Chapter 108 THE ONLY ONE I SEE

Chapter 108 THE ONLY ONE I SEE
Xyra walked over to the closet and began filtering through the dresses. Every single one was stunning. Now came the hard part, which is choosing one. It was much easier said than done, especially since dresses were entirely outside of her comfort zone. Fashion was definitely not her forte.

"How about this one?" Magnus asked, holding up a beautiful ice-blue gown. It had long sleeves and flared out past the waist. It looked like something meant for a royal princess, and Xyra certainly didn't see herself that way.

"Why that one?" she asked.

He offered a quick smile. "Because I like it," he replied. "I want to see you wear it."

She scowled and turned her back to him. "That's not a real enough reason," she muttered crossly. "And I can pick my own clothes, thank you very much."

"Fair enough," he said, grabbing a few garments of his own as he headed for the door. "I'm going to try these on. Pick something out while I'm gone, alright?"

He left a moment later, leaving her alone in the quiet room with a closet full of elegant dresses. Her eyes drifted over the rack, eventually landing on the dress Magnus had pointed out. It really was indeed a beautiful dress, but something so elegant felt wrong for her. She wasn't a princess or a noble. Her family had been dirt poor; she had grown up with nothing. I hate being around nobles, she thought bitterly. I’ll never fit in.

Despite the hesitation, she pulled the dress from the rack to look at it closely. The longer she stared, the more she actually liked it. Even if wearing it would feed Magnus's already massive ego, she decided to give it a chance. It couldn't hurt to just try it on, she thought. Who knows? Maybe it will look alright.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the castle was alive with energy. Guests poured through the gates, all being guided toward the grand ballroom. The room was packed with elite guests dressed in their finest formal wear. The men wore regal cloaks and tailored coats that screamed nobility — which most of them were. The women glided around in long, form-fitting gowns that swept the floor.

It truly felt like a gathering of the most powerful and important people on the continent. A few might have even traveled across the ocean from distant lands, though it was unlikely; this one was small, and news rarely traveled far enough to attract other travelers coming from far places. Still, the local crowd filled the room perfectly. The center of the floor was kept clear for dancing, while an orchestra played soft background music off to the side. For now, guests simply mingled, sipping drinks and nibbling on light appetizers.

Magnus stood at the top of the grand staircase overlooking the entrance. He had chosen to enter through the main upper doors rather than the side hallways, figuring a grand entrance suited the occasion. He was used to events like this, but he was still caught off guard when people started glancing his way and whispering. Hearing the name Coleman echo through the crowd, he wondered how word had spread so fast.

"Welcome, Magnus," said Christian, stepping up to the young sorcerer with a smile. He was dressed in sharp white, blue, and black attire that mirrored the style of the other guests. With his deep blue cloak, crisp white shirt, and polished black belt, he looked every bit the powerful and important man he was.

"Hello," Magnus replied, eyes narrowing slightly. "Did you happen to tell everyone I was coming?"

"Well..." Christian rubbed the back of his neck nervously, flinching slightly under Magnus's glare. He raised his hands defensively. "I just thought people had a right to know a Coleman would be in attendance. It’s not every day they get to meet someone from your family."

"So you're using my name to hype up your party?"

"You don't mind too much, do you?"

"I suppose not," Magnus sighed. He hated being treated differently just because of his lineage. While his family name opened doors for him, tonight was supposed to be a break from his heavy journey. At least people might leave me alone... or they’ll crowd me even more. Man, I hope they give me some space.

He scanned the crowd below, searching for his companion. He couldn't spot her anywhere in the sea of well-dressed nobles. Then it hit him... he might not even recognize her. Xyra the thief and Xyra in a gown were two completely different people. He smiled to himself, eager to see the transformation or what she would look like. Depending on her mood, he planned to tease her with compliments. If she was in a good mood, he’d definitely push her buttons a little. This is going to be fun.

Finally, his eyes landed on her. Xyra was standing alone against the far wall. Magnus's smile widened when he realized she had actually chosen the ice-blue dress. She looked absolutely radiant... like an angel. In his eyes, not even a real princess could match her grace. But his amusement quickly faded when he noticed her expression. She was watching the crowd with a heavy, downcast gaze. Even from across the room, her sadness was obvious. Looks like I need to fix that.

Over by the orchestra, Xyra leaned against the wall, feeling smaller by the second. Everyone around her seemed amazing. They came from wealthy, powerful, and prestigious families. The longer she watched them, the more out of place she felt. This world wasn't built for someone like her. She wasn't high class; she was a thief who had grown up in the dirt. If these people discovered the truth, they would look down on her instantly. Even now, most guests ignored her, giving her occasional strange looks as if trying to figure out which noble family she belonged to.

The thoughts weighed heavily on her, and a wave of anxiety washed over her. She wished she could disappear. The only reason she was here was for Magnus. This was his world, after all. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he belonged to one of the highest, purest noble bloodlines on the continent. This lavish lifestyle was what he was born into. I don't belong here, she thought. These people are just like him. I'm absolutely outclassed here.

She let out a soft sigh, sinking deeper into her misery. Compared to Magnus, she felt invisible. Compared to these noblewomen, she felt like a total fraud. She might be wearing a beautiful dress, but inside, she felt like an ordinary peasant playing dress-up. Great job, Xyra, she chided herself. Not only do you fall for a man who is secretly Albus, but he’s a noble one too. I’ll never be enough. I just don't compare.

"Excuse me," a smooth voice interrupted.

Xyra blinked and looked up right into Magnus's eyes. It was the first time she had seen him all evening, and she had to admit his outfit suited him perfectly. He wore a sleek black cloak without a hood, paired with a muted grayish-blue shirt and dark navy trim. He was infuriatingly handsome, the kind of person who could look good in rags.

He offered her a brilliant, slightly smug smile, clearly catching her admiring him. Before she could speak, he elegantly extended his hand. Xyra stared at his open palm, confused.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice carrying a trace of bitterness.

His smile only softened. He wanted nothing more than to chase away the sadness he had seen on her face.

"Come on, Xyra," he murmured, his tone dropping to a gentle, persuasive whisper. He was using that charming cadence again, trying to sway her. The annoying part was that it was working. "I'm asking for a dance. Do you accept it?"

"But..."

"Please don't turn me down," he said, his expression suddenly turning serious. His eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that suggested this meant far more to him than a simple dance. Rather than overthinking what he meant, Xyra decided she didn't want to disappoint him. Slowly, she reached out and placed her hand in his. He closed his fingers around hers, his bright smile returning.

With true noble grace, he led her straight toward the center of the ballroom, ignoring the whispering crowd. He knew what people were saying, and he couldn't care less. Out of all the eligible noblewomen in the room, Xyra was the only one he wanted to dance with. Let them gossip about how the last Coleman heir should choose a lady of high status; none of it mattered to him. The woman beside him was more beautiful and unique than any high-born lady in existence.

They reached the middle of the crowded floor. Magnus stopped, keeping one hand clasped with hers while resting the other gently on her waist. Xyra placed her hand on his shoulder, a nervous but genuine smile breaking through her anxiety.

"I'm really not good at this," she warned him quietly.

"Then just let me lead," he whispered back.

He moved into the step, guiding her seamlessly across the floor. To his surprise, she followed his rhythm perfectly without a single misstep. Despite her warning, she was a natural. While other women usually grew stiff or nervous during a formal dance, Xyra kept her eyes locked on his, entirely focused. Magnus smiled warmly, twirling her slightly and catching the sound of her soft laughter. It was a beautiful sound.

As they fell into the easy rhythm of the music, Magnus's mind began to drift back to a conversation he’d had with Darren. After a recent incident, the hunter had questioned him with sudden, intense seriousness: "Do you love her?"

Magnus hadn't answered right away, completely thrown off by the blunt question. But looking at her now — standing so close, hands intertwined, eyes locked — the answer was clearer than ever. There wasn't a single doubt left in his heart.

Over the last few months, the stubborn thief had woven her way into his life. She had become his closest confidant, a loyal companion who never abandoned him. Whenever he needed her, she was there without complaint. When he had been at his absolute lowest, she was the one who pulled him through. She held his deepest secrets, too; she was the only outsider who knew his real name. The best part was that she didn't fear his power. To her, he wasn't a legendary entity or a terrifying sorcerer. He was just Magnus, and that was the version of himself he loved the most.