Chapter 111: Lance Loves Helping Others

On the third floor of the Card Maker's Association was a spacious atrium encircled by floor-to-ceiling windows. The abundance of natural light bathed the entire floor in a brilliant, airy brightness. A deep, ocean-blue carpet stretched across the center of the room, flanked by display cases showcasing a wide variety of goods, as well as service counters and meeting areas.

Lance and Hyperion had just stepped out from the stairwell. Their attention was immediately drawn to what was ahead. On this floor, which otherwise appeared sparsely populated, one spot stood out prominently: a meeting area furnished with comfortable, spacious sofas.

A young man with light blond hair sat there. Though dressed in ordinary attire, he was surrounded by several high-ranking officials of the Card Maker's Association, who clustered around him like stars circling the moon.

His demeanor, composed yet understated, only served to make him even more striking. Seated beside him was a young woman wearing the insignia of a Silver Certified card maker. Her long, dark hair shimmered with a violet luster under the sunlight. Although she, too, was dressed simply to match the young man, an air of innate nobility radiated from her. She was clearly a noblewoman who had taken great care with her appearance.

It was rare to see someone being received as such an honored guest by the Card Maker's Association. Those two clearly possessed statuses of great distinction.

Before Lance could even voice his thoughts, Hyperion had recognized the young man instantly. Her expression darkened. She grabbed the hem of Lance's coat, hurriedly preparing to turn and leave.

Unfortunately, because Lance and Hyperion were also quite conspicuous, they inadvertently caught the attention of the young man, who appeared both unassuming and extraordinary. He looked toward Hyperion and Lance at the stairwell with a hint of surprise.

"Hyperion? And... Lance?"

Then, a smile spread across his face as he quickly stood up and walked briskly toward them.

"Oh no... there's no escaping this..." Hyperion muttered under her breath, letting out a quiet sigh. "He's a good person, but also a walking headache..."

When she looked up again at the young man with light blond hair who was walking toward them, she wore a rather awkward smile. "Good morning, Your Highness Ainor."

Noticing Hyperion's subtle change in demeanor, Lance followed suit and greeted the young man as well. "Good morning, Your Highness."

Upon hearing Hyperion's greeting, Lance instantly realized that this young man was Princess Vivian's older brother, the one who might be a bit of a handful. However, this was the first time he had ever seen Hyperion so reluctant to run into someone.

"I never expected to run into you two at the Card Maker's Association." Ainor looked at the pair before him with a beaming, cheerful smile. He seemed to have completely forgotten about the girl waiting for him some distance away.

Lance remained silent, though he felt a bit puzzled. The prince didn't strike him as the sort of person who lacked social awareness, so what exactly was the issue here?

Looking afraid to even meet the prince's gaze, Hyperion lowered her head and mumbled, "I'm just accompanying my friend to look around the Card Maker's Association."

Ainor said with sincere enthusiasm, "I see! Let me show you around, then. I know this place just as well as any senior member!"

He was clearly someone who had no prejudices against Hyperion. Lance only felt more confused by this. Why did Hyperion look so awkward? However, he soon began to sense an intense, impossible-to-ignore gaze that was fixed directly on them.

He quickly glanced in a certain direction and noticed that the girl Ainor had left waiting on the sofa was staring intently at Hyperion. A palpable sense of defensive wariness drifted across the air between them.

Even though it was blatantly obvious to Lance that Ainor's attitude toward Hyperion was nothing more than that of an older brother's friendliness toward a younger sister, the girl clearly viewed things differently. She saw Hyperion as a major threat and was filled with both jealousy and vigilance.

After observing this for a moment, Lance finally began to understand Hyperion's hesitation. She wasn't actually afraid of the cheerful prince himself, but rather wanted to avoid any misunderstanding with that fiercely protective girl. The two of them appeared to know each other, and quite well at that.

Hyperion cast a look at Lance that seemed to say she was on the verge of tears. She trusted that he understood the conundrum now. The truth was, Prince Ainor simply treated her like a younger sister because of his close friendship with her father, Duke Michael. Whenever he saw her, he was just as affectionate toward her as he was with his own sister, Vivian.

Unfortunately, in the eyes of that purple-haired noblewoman, who held Ainor in high regard but had never received such affectionate treatment from him, Hyperion appeared to be a major threat.

Prince Ainor proposed hosting the two of them and did so while casually leaving that purple-haired noblewoman behind. It was a move typical of the prince's incredibly straightforward nature, but Hyperion didn't dare respond to the offer at all!

Seeing the pitiful look on her face, Lance sympathized with her and decided to help out his good friend.

Lance looked earnestly at the prince. He neither accepted nor declined the offer immediately, choosing instead to express his gratitude first, "Thank you for your kind offer, Your Highness."

As long as he could draw the prince's attention to himself, the noble girl with dark purple hair would stop viewing Hyperion with hostility, thereby sparing her from that pressure.

Sure enough, the moment Lance responded, Ainor's eyes lit up with a brilliant gleam.

"Lance, I've long wanted to ask for your advice on matters of art, but I heard you were busy lately, so I didn't want to disturb you." Although this was the first time the prince had spoken to Lance, he displayed a sincerity akin to a kindred spirit finding a true friend, as if he had a thousand things he wanted to discuss at length with him.

Lance smiled with a touch of wry amusement as he said, "I have long admired you, Your Highness. Her Highness Princess Vivian has spoken of you as well."

He certainly wasn't going to turn down the chance to befriend such an approachable prince. Compared to his sister Vivian, the prince seemed completely devoid of arrogance.

Ainor was immediately intrigued by Lance's response. "Oh? And what did my sister Vivian say about me?"

Lance replied with his signature tact and social grace, "She thinks you are very kind and a reliable older brother worthy of respect."

Although Vivian hadn't used those exact words, Lance felt the sentiment was close enough. Besides, he needed to keep the prince's attention focused on himself to help Hyperion.

"Is that so?" A bright smile crossed Ainor's face as soon as he heard that. After all, comments made behind his back and heard through a third party tended to be the honest truth.

"It's easy to tell. She's always singing your praises." Lance had added that to delight the prince even more, and he noticed that Hyperion had finally let out a sigh of relief. It turned out her anxiety really had been caused by the purple-haired girl.

Their relationship certainly wasn't bad. On the contrary, Hyperion had likely been looked after by the purple-haired girl in the past, which explained why she cared so deeply about her.

Ainor even went so far as to drape his arm over Lance's shoulder as he probed for details, "What else did Vivian say?"

He struck up a conversation with Lance as if they were old friends. Apparently he had long admired Lance, and when he discovered that they were so compatible, he simply couldn't stop talking once he got started.

However, for some reason, after chatting a bit more, Lance felt that the sour, intense gaze directed at him hadn't just persisted—it had actually grown stronger!

It was only then that Lance realized something. Once he had drawn Ainor's attention, the purple-haired girl had indeed stopped staring at Hyperion. But he hadn't expected that Prince Ainor would immediately hit it off with him, striking up a "brotherly" rapport. That brief surge of goodwill, built in less than a minute, eclipsed years of effort on the purple-haired girl's part.

The result? He had drawn all her jealousy onto himself!

Lance quickly contemplated this. An idea was evidently brewing in his mind. The corners of his mouth curled upward in a faint, knowing smile. Beside him, Hyperion, who had just breathed a sigh of relief, suddenly sensed that something bad was about to happen.

She hurriedly cast a pleading look toward the purple-haired girl. Stop staring at Lance—please! Just stop staring at him! He's the kind of upstanding young man who loves to help others achieve their happiness and can't stand seeing people in trouble. If you keep staring at him, he's going to go out of his way to do a "good deed" again!