UNMEI: Pantheon's Game-Chapter 127: Ceremony

A sudden knock rattled Dune's door. He groaned, dragging himself up and cracking it open. Atlas stood there, one brow raised high.

"Why aren't you getting ready?" Atlas asked flatly.

Dune blinked at him, still half-asleep as he got back into his bed. "Ready? For what?"

Atlas's face twitched. "Richard's ceremony. You forgot? He personally invited you."

Dune's eyes widened. "It's already today?!"

Atlas's face fell into his palm. "No. Tomorrow, but get ready, we are taking a dance lesson."

Dune groaned and flopped back onto the bed. "Go without me..."

But before he could settle in, Atlas grabbed the edge of the blanket and yanked him off the bed in one sharp pull. Dune hit the floor with a thud.

"There's no way," Atlas said, voice firm. "I don't know anyone there either. Cassius told me to go by myself and stand with Lady Ceresey, to protect her if anything happens or anyone disrespects her. You have to come, Dune."

Dune let out a long, miserable sigh. "Alright, alright..." He stood up, already reaching for his standard academy clothes.

Atlas caught his wrist. "You're not going like that."

"What? Why not? They're clean."

Atlas sighed and pointed to the corner where he had brought something folded neatly.

"Because it's a ceremony, not a street fight. Wear this."

He unfurled the outfit, a white, elegant uniform with a long jacket, golden ornaments lining the cuffs and collar, and a fine emblem embroidered on the chest. It gleamed under the light like something noble families wore.

Dune stared at it like it was some foreign creature. "You're turning me into a butterfly."

Atlas chuckled, a rare sound. "Just put it on, butterfly."

Grumbling, Dune changed into the clothes. They fit well, too well, honestly, and he glanced at the mirror. His hair was still a mess, sticking out in every direction.

Atlas crossed his arms. "Fix your hair. You look like you slept for years." With another sigh, Dune wet his hands and roughly pushed his hair down until it looked halfway decent.

Finally, the two stepped out into the hall, their footsteps echoing lightly. Atlas adjusted his own collar and looked at Dune seriously.

When they arrived, Atlas grabbed his shoulder and spun him toward a massive manor that looked like it had been carved from moonlight and marble. "I'm dropping you off. Someone will teach you. Don't embarrass me."

Before Dune could protest, the doors opened with an elegant groan. A butler nodded once, and Atlas was already gone, vanishing like mist. The silence of the manor swallowed Dune whole.

Then she appeared.

A girl, his age, maybe a little older, stood at the top of the staircase. She had long silver-black hair braided neatly down her back and pale grey eyes that shimmered like frozen lakes. Dune knew her, she was his classmate, Elena Evernight.

Dune opened his mouth to greet her, but she only stared, expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she turned and pointed down the hall.

"...Right," Dune muttered. "I guess that's the way."

He followed her through echoing corridors, past chandeliers and mirrored walls, until they entered a grand ballroom. It looked untouched by time, golden trim, velvet curtains, and polished floors that reflected the glow of a thousand candles.

She stepped to the center, then faced him. Still silent.

"So..." Dune scratched his head. "Are you the teacher?"

She nodded once. Then, to his surprise, she simply raised her hand, palm up, offering it to him like he was supposed to know what to do.

"I... uh, alright," Dune mumbled, placing his hand in hers.

The music began, distant and soft, as if the house itself played it.

For the first twenty minutes, Dune was a disaster.

He stepped on her foot. Twice. He spun the wrong way. He tried to lead, then forgot which foot to move. But she didn't speak. Not once.

Only gently pushed or tugged his hand, or gave him the slightest nod or shake of her head. Her patience was unnerving.

But then, something changed.

By the second hour, he stopped thinking and started feeling it. The rhythm. The movement. It became a flow, like Nebastep, but without explosions. His steps synced with hers, and for a moment, it felt like floating.

Elena Evernight, stoic and silent for the entire evening, looked stunned. Her wide eyes blinked, her mouth slightly parted as if words almost escaped. Dune couldn't help but grin.

"You didn't think I'd pick it up that fast, did you? Come on, say it!"

She shook her head slowly, with a sigh.

When the music faded at last, she let go of his hand and pointed to the door.

"That's it huh?" Dune said, brushing sweat off his forehead.

She didn't respond, just gave him a soft look, one that said good enough, and turned away, her silhouette vanishing between the pillars like a passing dream.

What's wrong with her? She didn't even say a word.

Dune stepped outside, the cool air hitting his face. Atlas was waiting against a tree, smirking. "So? Learn anything?"

Dune nodded, adjusting his collar like he'd been born with noble blood. "Yes, but it's still a three hours of my life wasted, if i die in the trial,

it's your fault."

"So you can dance," Atlas said. "Choose a partner at ceremony and just repeat what you learned, use this to get closer to someone Dune, you will need allies here."

"I have to leave now, going to the Ceresey estate first. I'll meet you at Richard Amellia's estate tomorrow, understood?"

Dune nodded, though doubt flickered across his face. As Atlas turned and walked away, Dune stood there, feeling strangely out of place in the fancy uniform.

[ Next day ]

Dune stood in front of the academy ready to go, his thoughts were interrupted when Mindya came stomping down the hall, hands stuffed in her pockets, her wild hair bouncing with every step. She caught sight of Dune standing stiff in his white and gold uniform and stopped dead in her tracks.

She stared. Then her face scrunched up.

"...Pfft—"

Dune already knew what was coming.

She burst out laughing, loud and sharp. "What the hell happened to you?!" she cackled. "You look so flat and funny!"

Dune sighed, already regretting calling out to her. "Mindya, shut up."

But she just kept going, circling him like he was some strange beast. "White coat... shiny gold stuff... wow, Dune. Didn't know you turned into a pretty boy whent I wasn't lookin'."

He groaned, rubbing his temples. "I have to go to a ceremony, alright? Just leave it."

Mindya finally stopped in front of him, grinning from ear to ear. Then her eyes narrowed.

"...But your hair, ugh. What's with that? You flattened it down so much, you look almost bald."

Before Dune could react, she reached out and ruffled his hair hard, messing it up until it stuck out again in all directions.

"There. That's better," she declared, stepping back to inspect her work. "Now you look like you. Crazy, stupid, and kinda dangerous. Not some killer."

Dune blinked, feeling his head. His hair was a mess again, but, honestly, it did feel more natural.

Mindya crossed her arms. "Quit standin' here lookin' like you're gonna puke. Just go already. Who cares if you mess up? Hit someone if they annoy you."

Her words, rough as they were, made something steady click in his chest.

"...Yeah right, but what are you gonna do?" Dune muttered.

Mindya gave him a toothy grin. "'i'll just stay in my room, alone... while you go and eat delicious food at parties, not fair, but it's not like i can do anything about it right... Now go before you miss it dummy."

Dune huffed out a breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. Then, without another word, he finally headed out toward the estate, steps a little firmer now.

Dune arrived at the gates of the Amellia mansion, and for a moment, he just stood there, staring.

It wasn't a mansion, it was a castle. Tall gray walls stretched around the estate like the borders of a small kingdom. Beyond them, gardens bloomed, filled with soft lights and carefully trimmed trees. People in fine clothes wandered through the paths, their laughter and soft voices floating in the evening air.

Dune exhaled slowly, tightening his fists once before stepping through.

Atlas was waiting for him near the entrance, already dressed in his formal wear, black and purple, clean and sharp, his hair was almost same as Dune's, he looked like he belonged here.

Next to him stood a tall young woman with short black hair, her blue eyes calm but sharp as they glanced at Dune. She wore a black dress embroidered with silver patterns, cut between to reveal her long legs, light yet regal.

Atlas spotted Dune and raised his hand. "You're late," he muttered under his breath before straightening up. He gestured to the woman beside him. "Dune, this is Lady Sylvie Ceresey. Daughter of the Ceresey house."

Dune swallowed and remembered what Cadogan, the teachers, and even Cassius had drilled into him over and over: When dealing with higher-ups, you move differently. You speak carefully. You bow when you must. And never forget where you stand.

He stepped forward, lowering his head slightly and gently taking Lady Evelyne's hand. "An honor to meet you, Lady Ceresey."

Atlas raised his eyebrow while she smiled faintly. "Likewise, Dune. But you don't have to be so formal, we're almost same age after all." Her voice was graceful, but there was an edge to it, the same edge Dune noticed in most people from noble houses.

Atlas gave him a small nod, as if to say good enough, then turned. "Let's head in before more people arrive."

they showed guards the invitation letters, then they stepped inside. Dune couldn't help but let his eyes wander. The entrance hall opened into a massive space that looked more like a royal hall than someone's home. Three wide staircases rose ahead, each splitting off in different directions, left, right, and center, leading deeper into the estate.

Below them, the main floor stretched wide, filled with round tables, elegant chairs, and groups of people standing and chatting with glasses in their hands.

The smell of rich, exotic food floated through the air, roasted meats, spiced fruits, sweet pastries stacked in silver trays. Dune's stomach growled before he could stop it.

As they moved through the hall, Dune let his gaze flick over the faces he passed. Students, nobles, high officials, and then he spotted them.

The Rodeny family.

They stood together near one of the tall windows, dressed in matching colors, deep reds and black, like living embers. Their hair, varying shades of red, made them easy to spot even among the crowd.

They didn't mingle like the others, they stood apart, watching, their presence heavy enough to make nearby guests keep their distance.

Dune's chest ttightened. He forced his eyes away, and that's when it happened.

Someone bumped into him from the side.

He turned, and froze, It was Ned. His brother.

But not the Ned he remembered.

The boy who stood in front of him now wore a dark red uniform with black accents, sharp and tailored. His hair, once messy and plain, was now combed back neatly, the color deeper and more striking. But it was the eyes that hit Dune the hardest, they were sharper now, colder, like steel that had been hammered and reforged.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, almost like they'd rehearsed it, they both gave a small, stiff bow, the kind nobles did at events like this.

But Dune's thoughts were anything but calm. Ned... what happened to you? His heart ached seeing the change. His brother looked older. Harder. Like he'd been forced to grow too fast.

But then, Ned broke the silence. He smiled. "Don't look at me like that, brother. I'm not dead yet."

Dune blinked, and then, despite himself, he laughed. A small, breathless sound.

Ned stepped in and placed his hand on Dune's shoulder, pulling him close. "I'm doing alright. So stop worrying about me all the time."

Dune's throat tightened. "Yeah... you look a lot different. I just hope everything goes well for you. That's all."

Ned pulled back and smirked. "Tch. Yes I'm different now, I won't ever repeat past mistakes, so you can stop worrying about me, Dune."

Dune shook his head, a smile lingering on his lips. For the first time since he stepped into this place, some of the weight lifted off his shoulders.

Ned eventually gave Dune one last pat on the shoulder before stepping back, his face slipping into that sharper, more formal look again. Without another word, he turned and walked off toward the Rodenys, slipping back into their tight circle like he belonged there.

Dune stood there for a second longer, watching his brother's back disappear into the sea of red and black. His chest felt tight, but he took a deep breath and started moving again.

As he weaved through the crowd, a waiter in a black uniform appeared out of nowhere, balancing a silver tray piled with tiny snacks.

"Please, sir," the man insisted, practically shoving a small plate into Dune's hands.

Dune blinked down at it, little fish eggs on a round, thin cracker. What is this called?

"It's caviar sir! The man answered.

Sighing, Dune popped the thing into his mouth. The salty burst hit his tongue hard, and he winced a little. Yeah... that's definitely not for me.

He quickly set the empty plate on the nearest table and kept walking, eager to get away from the fancy trays before they handed him something even stranger.

His eyes wandered as he moved, over the clusters of nobles laughing lightly, heads tilted back just enough to show off their perfect teeth. Over students in polished uniforms, trying too hard to look like they belonged. Over old men and women in heavy jewelry, whispering behind their fans and glasses.

Everyone's chatting like they've known each other for years... Dune thought, his steps slowing. Like this is their world and I'm just passing through.

His gaze flicked up to the high ceiling, the golden chandeliers glowing softly above.

Then the thought hit him, Richard Amellia had told him this was supposed to be a birthday celebration for his daughter, Ana.

That's what the invitation also said. That's why he was here, dressed up and walking carefully like Cadogan taught him.

But... something felt off.

Dune looked around again. If this is Ana's birthday... then where is she?