Shadow Slave: A Supreme Bond (Sunphis Wedding One-Shot)

Away from the lively and jubilant crowd, a group sat around an exquisitely adorned table. Fine food and vintage drinks were served, their rich aromas lingering in the air. Yet, despite the decadent feast before them, a heavy silence blanketed the table. The air was thick with an unspoken weight, and the faces of its occupants carried a quiet solemnity.

A pair of pristine obsidian eyes swept over them one by one, their gaze sharp yet unreadable. Finally, a voice, warm yet carrying an edge, broke the silence.

"So," Revel murmured, her pleasant tone belying the true intent behind her words. "What did you enjoy more, the food or the wine?"

"Definitely the food," Silent Stalker replied without hesitation. She carved into a succulent piece of roasted meat, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "The texture is exquisite. The flavor... far too rich to be from a mere fallen or corrupted yield." She took another bite, chewing slowly. "I wouldn't be surprised if Sovereign Sunless personally hunted great monstrosities for tonight's banquet."

"I agree," Lonesome Howl added, swirling the amber liquid in her crystalline glass. "Though the wine is in a league of its own. I can't imagine any vineyard on Earth producing such a fine vintage." She took a slow sip, savoring its delicate complexity. "What was this called again? Ember Nectar?"

"Forget the food and drink." Moonveil's voice carried an air of admiration. "The décor is what's truly breathtaking. The way the lights are arranged—pristine, warm, yet unobtrusive—enhancing the moonlight rather than competing against it. It creates an almost ethereal glow, as if the entire hall exists between reality and a dream." She exhaled softly, eyes alight with appreciation. "Sovereign Sunless must have insisted on holding the ceremony under the brightest full moon of the year for this very effect... It's nothing short of brilliant."

For a few minutes, idle conversation filled the space, but it was a mere distraction—a thin veil over the weight lingering in the air. One by one, the voices faded, and silence reclaimed its place. Though their lips curved into polite smiles, their gazes drifted, their minds burdened by thoughts left unsaid.

Until finally, an unwelcome voice cut through the stillness.

"Oh my."

A young woman approached, her steps light yet deliberate. Silken black hair cascaded over alabaster shoulders, and vermilion eyes gleamed with mirth. The pristine red fabric of her dress trailed elegantly behind her, flowing like liquid fire.

"I wasn't aware Clan Song had gone on strike." Morgan's lips curled into a teasing smile as she took in the group before her. "Or could it be..." Her voice turned playful, laced with mock concern. "None of you lovely ladies managed to find a single partner for the dance ceremony?"

Revel's expression darkened, a flicker of irritation crossing her face. "People like us spend our days on the battlefield," she said coolly. "Mere festivities hold no real significance to us."

Morgan's smile only widened as she slid into an empty seat, crossing one leg over the other with casual grace. "Ah, of course," she mused, feigning sympathy. "Or perhaps... it's not so much the battlefield as your behavioral challenges?" She tilted her head, her smirk sharp as a blade. "How tragic. The famed princess of Clan Song, blessed with unmatched beauty, yet too... barbaric to find a willing partner."

Lonesome Howl snorted. "You really do love the sound of your own voice, don't you?" She set down her glass with deliberate slowness, then dabbed the corner of her lips with a napkin before speaking again. "Let's be clear. If we wanted to dance, we need only ask. Most men would give up their very lives, let alone their hands, for the privilege."

Morgan let out a soft laugh, raising a hand to her lips as if to stifle her amusement. "Oh my," she purred. "That's certainly believable... for dear Revel and Moonveil. Perhaps even Silent Stalker to an extent." Her vermilion eyes gleamed mischievously. "But you, dear Howl? Are you sure you looked into the right mirror this morning?"

A barely concealed smirk tugged at Silent Stalker's lips, and Moonveil made a point of focusing on her drink, distancing herself from the exchange. Revel, however, tried to interject. "Morgan, that's—"

But before she could finish, Lonesome Howl slammed a hand against the table, rising to her feet with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

"You looking to start something?"

Morgan leaned back, utterly unfazed. "Now, now," she mused, her voice light, almost lilting. "Let's not do anything reckless, hmm?" She gestured subtly to the hall, where the grand celebration continued in full force. "It would be a shame if you caused a scene at the Sovereigns' wedding." She tilted her head, her smirk deepening. "Who knows what Soverign Sunless might do if someone were to ruin the most important day of his life?"

"We can always take this outside—"

"Let's all calm down," Revel interjected smoothly, her voice even yet carrying an unmistakable edge. She turned to Morgan, fixing her with a sharp stare. "Besides, you're in the same boat as us. So where do you get off talking like that?"

Morgan took a slow, deliberate sip from her drink before chuckling. "Why do you assume I'm in the same boat as you loners?"

Revel barely stopped herself from cursing. Her fingers curled slightly over the table's edge, but she forced her expression to remain neutral. "Why else would you be sitting here with us? Away from the dance floor, away from the celebration?"

Morgan set down her glass with a soft clink, her lips curling into an amused smirk. "Because you're an entertaining bunch for killing time."

"Oh?" Lonesome Howl drawled, leaning back in her seat. "Then pray tell... which unfortunate man are you waiting for while 'killing time'?"

Morgan only smiled, sipping at her drink in silence.

"It must be Rivalen," Silent Stalker mused. "He's the most handsome and valiant knight in Valor."

Revel frowned, pondering for a moment. "Doesn't seem like Morgan's type." She tapped her fingers against the table absently. "Actually... I can't think of a single man Morgan would be interested in."

Lonesome Howl smirked. "Maybe she wooed some rich old bastard for money. Valor's not exactly in a position to compete with Song like it used to be."

"But who would even be rich enough to make a real difference?" Silent Stalker countered. "Nowadays, a Saint's worth is measured by their contributions to humanity's development. And no one even comes close to Beastmaster in that regard."

"Exactly," Lonesome Howl said with a scowl. "There's no one. This bitch is just playing games, acting like she's somehow better than us when, in reality, she's as alone as a lone cactus in a desert."

Morgan merely shrugged, unbothered by the taunt. "You'll see."

And as if on cue, a voice rang out behind them.

"There you are."

The four Song Saints turned in unison.

A man approached with effortless grace, the moonlight casting a halo around him. His ivory skin was smooth and unmarred, his auburn hair catching in the breeze like liquid fire. Under the glow of the full moon, his mesmerizing green eyes gleamed, their depths unreadable yet tantalizing. The ethereal beauty of his face, already striking, seemed almost unreal in that moment.

Revel froze, her breath catching in her throat. Silent Stalker blinked, her jaw slightly slackened. Lonesome Howl, for the first time in the night, looked genuinely caught off guard, nearly jumping from her seat before forcefully composing herself. Moonveil, the ever-composed, simply smiled and blinked languidly, as if utterly unaffected—though the slight shift in her posture betrayed her.

Kai approached with measured steps, his expression composed but subtly wary as he took in the gathering before him.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Saints of Clan Song."

Kai's voice was smooth and composed, carrying an undercurrent of effortless charm. He met each of their gazes in turn, offering a respectful nod. "I hope you're enjoying the night."

"S-Saint Nightingale?"

Silent Stalker was the first to find her voice, though it wavered slightly. Her sharp eyes narrowed in realization. "Don't tell me you're—"

"The pleasure is ours, Saint Nightingale," Revel swiftly interjected, regaining her composure. "We're impressed by the scale of the preparations. It is truly an honor to be part of this celebration."

Kai smiled, but before he could reply, Lonesome Howl leaned forward, her expression intent.

"Forgive my rudeness, Saint Nightingale, but..." she hesitated, then continued in the most composed tone she could muster, "why is someone like you not dancing? Do you not have a partner?"

Silent Stalker elbowed her discreetly, a silent plea for subtlety. But before Lonesome Howl could respond, Kai answered with a casual shrug.

"Oh, that's because my partner is right here."

He turned to Morgan.

"I just came to pick her up."

Then, with practiced grace, he extended his hand and bowed slightly. "Are you ready, m'lady?"

Morgan sighed theatrically, shaking her head. "Why are you acting so formal with me?"

Kai chuckled. "It just seemed fitting for the occasion."

Morgan's lips curled into a smirk as she placed her hand in his and rose from her seat. "That may be so, but I am not one to be swayed by such things. Kindly refrain from unnecessary pleasantries, Saint Nightingale."

Kai laughed softly. "Who's the one being formal now?"

Behind them, the four Saints watched in varying states of shock.

"Morgan and Saint Nightingale... how?"

"It does make sense. Nightingale was a celebrity even before he became a Saint. If anyone could rival Beastmaster in wealth and fame, it's him."

"But how did she make him comply? He's a close friend to both Sovereign Sunless and Nephis. She couldn't have threatened him without risking their wrath."

"Maybe she has dirt on him? They were acquainted before he ascended."

"I doubt he'd be foolish enough to give her blackmail material. And Morgan wouldn't risk angering the Sovereigns either way."

"Then what—"

"Does that mean Saint Nightingale is genuinely interested in her?"

"We're looking at it wrong. There's nothing to suggest they're more than mere friends. Morgan is just trying to trick us into—"

Before Lonesome Howl could finish her sentence, Morgan smirked and reached for Kai's suit, her fingers hooking onto the fabric in a way that sent a very clear message.

Kai barely had time to react. "Huh? Morgan, not in front of—"

She cut him off with action, pulling him close until their bodies pressed together. Then, with fluid ease, her arms coiled around his neck. One hand slipped into his hair, her fingers tangling against his scalp as she drew him in. Their lips met.

For a moment, Kai instinctively tried to pull away. But when he realized she wasn't stopping, he hesitated—then, finally, surrendered.

The kiss lingered. A breath too long.

When Morgan finally let go, both of them exhaled sharply, their breaths uneven.

Kai blinked. "What... was that?" His voice was laced with confusion rather than fluster.

Morgan tilted her head, her vermilion eyes gleaming with amusement. She cast a quick glance at the stunned expressions behind them, then turned back to him with a sly grin.

"Oh, nothing," she purred. "Just a reward for your wonderful performance on stage."

Kai let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Alright, enough distractions." He took her hand in his, his grip firm yet gentle. "We shouldn't waste more time."

Morgan glanced over her shoulder, catching the last remnants of disbelief lingering in the Clan Song Saints' eyes. She smirked.

Then, with effortless elegance, she and Kai strode toward the dance floor—leaving behind nothing but shocked faces, parted lips, and flustered stares.