Chapter 106: Prelude to the ball III

Chapter 106: Chapter 106: Prelude to the ball III

The usually quiet corridors of Smith Residence were unusually lively that evening.

Doors stood open throughout the men’s residence as students moved from room to room, exchanging compliments, borrowing cufflinks, and making last-minute adjustments before the evening’s festivities.

Laughter echoed through the hallways.

Someone called from farther down the corridor asking if anyone had seen his gloves.

Another student leaned halfway out of his room to borrow a tie.

Two roommates argued over whose hair looked worse before both dissolved into laughter.

For most students...

The Founders’ Ball came only once each academic year.

Even those who ordinarily paid little attention to formal attire found themselves making an effort tonight.

Inside one of the larger private suites assigned to fourth-year students...

Damian Blackwood stood patiently while the final adjustments were made to his evening attire.

His roommate had departed nearly twenty minutes earlier, leaving the suite unusually quiet despite the bustle echoing beyond the door.

The Blackwood family’s stylists had arrived from the estate earlier that afternoon, temporarily transforming the sitting room into a dressing area.

Unlike the lengthy preparations often expected of the ladies...

Theirs had been remarkably straightforward.

One stylist smoothed the sleeves of Damian’s tailored black formal coat before stepping back.

Silver embroidery traced the cuffs and collar with understated elegance.

Beneath the coat rested a charcoal waistcoat over a crisp white shirt, finished with a dark silk cravat.

The attire was refined.

Elegant.

Entirely fitting for the heir to House Blackwood.

"My lord."

Another stylist approached carrying a polished velvet tray.

Several accessories rested neatly upon it.

Three pairs of cufflinks.

Three pocket squares.

Each arranged according to a different color palette.

"As requested," the stylist said politely.

"The emerald selection."

Damian glanced over them.

The emerald silk caught the warm light from the suite’s chandelier, its deep green remarkably understated against the black fabric.

For a brief moment...

A memory surfaced.

While reviewing lecture notes for his exams, Damian had received a call from the Blackwood household’s head stylist.

"My lord, is there a particular color theme you would prefer for this year’s Founders’ Ball?"

He had answered almost absentmindedly.

"...Emerald."

"Very good, my lord."

The conversation had ended there.

He hadn’t given it another thought.

The memory faded.

Damian lowered his gaze to the tray once more.

The deep emerald silk caught the warm glow of the chandelier, its rich color understated against the polished silver.

After only a brief glance, he gave a small nod.

"Those will do."

"Very good, my lord."

The stylist carefully fastened the emerald cufflinks around his wrists before another folded the matching emerald silk pocket square neatly into the breast pocket of his coat.

With practiced precision, the folds were adjusted until only a refined hint of emerald remained visible.

The senior stylist stepped back.

"Excellent."

"The color complements you perfectly."

Damian offered only a polite nod as another stylist brushed an invisible speck of lint from his sleeve.

He didn’t think about the color again.

--

A firm knock sounded at the suite door.

"Come in."

The door swung open without hesitation.

Julian leaned comfortably against the frame, already dressed in a deep burgundy evening coat that somehow managed to look both impeccably tailored and unmistakably Julian.

"There you are."

"I was beginning to think your stylists had decided to keep you."

Damian smiled.

"I believe they’ve finished."

Julian looked him over from head to toe before giving an approving nod.

"Hm."

"Not bad."

"Not bad?" Damian echoed.

"I’ve seen better."

"You haven’t."

"I haven’t."

The two shared a quiet laugh.

Another voice came from the corridor.

"If the fashion review is over..."

Adrian appeared beside Julian, fastening one of his gloves.

His own attire reflected the same restrained elegance that seemed to define him.

"We should leave."

Julian sighed dramatically.

"You always interrupt at the worst possible moment."

"I’ve found it’s usually the best possible moment."

Damian picked up his gloves from the nearby table.

"I’ll agree with Adrian."

One of the stylists opened the suite door for them.

"Have a pleasant evening, my lord."

"Thank you."

Damian inclined his head before stepping into the corridor with Julian and Adrian.

--

Smith Residence buzzed with conversation as fourth-year students made their way toward the staircases.

Every gentleman was dressed to the nines.

Tailored evening coats, polished shoes, family crests, and impeccably chosen accessories reflected the work of some of the finest stylists in the country.

As Damian walked past, several familiar faces greeted him.

"Looking sharp, Blackwood."

"Evening."

Another classmate looked him over and gave an approving nod.

"House Blackwood never misses."

Damian smiled.

"I’ll pass the compliment along."

Someone farther down the corridor spotted him.

"Hey, Blackwood!"

Damian glanced over.

"Save me a dance!"

A chorus of laughter followed before anyone could react.

Julian called back without missing a beat.

"Get in line."

"You wish."

"I do, actually."

More laughter broke out.

Damian merely shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips as they continued walking.

The teasing followed them all the way to the staircase, mixed with casual greetings and well wishes for the evening.

Outside, the September air carried the first hint of autumn.

Lanterns illuminated the stone paths leading toward the Grand Assembly Hall, where streams of elegantly dressed students were already making their way.

The three joined the crowd.

For a while, they simply walked.

Then Julian looked toward the brightly lit hall ahead.

"Last one."

Damian followed his gaze.

"...Yeah."

Adrian slipped his hands into his coat pockets.

"Doesn’t feel like four years."

"It doesn’t," Damian agreed.

A moment passed.

Then Julian clicked his tongue.

"You know..."

"I always figured I’d be walking into our last Founders’ Ball with a gorgeous date."

He looked at Damian.

"Instead I’m stuck with you."

Damian smirked.

"Try lowering your standards."

"I did."

Julian gestured between Damian and Adrian.

"This is the result."

Even Adrian let out a quiet laugh.

They continued toward the Grand Assembly Hall, the glow of its towering windows growing brighter with every step.

Their final Founders’ Ball awaited.

--

Tbc