Diamond Moon. (Johan X North)

Tiger had long accepted that North would always take forever to get ready. It was just one of those things—like the way he could talk for hours without pause or how he could charm anyone he set his sights on.

Still, as he stood at the base of the grand staircase, arms crossed, foot tapping against the marble floor, even he had to admit North had outdone himself tonight.

When North finally appeared, descending the stairs with practiced ease, Tiger took in his appearance with a more careful eye.

There was something different about him. Not drastic, not obvious—but something had shifted.

North had always been beautiful, but tonight, he carried himself with an effortless grace, an undeniable presence. His ensemble was stunning—a deep sapphire-blue coat lined with silver embroidery, paired with a perfectly tailored waistcoat and, of course, a corset that cinched his waist just enough to make a statement.

Tiger nearly snorted aloud. He'd noticed North subtly incorporating more royal colors into his wardrobe lately—rich blues and silvers, deeper, more regal tones. The implication was clear.

He's already preparing for his future.

Tiger wasn't sure whether to laugh or to be mildly impressed.

For people like them—rich but titleless, rubbing shoulders with nobility while never truly being one of them—the thought of actual royalty had always been distant. Out of reach.

And yet, here was North, gracefully stepping toward him, his very presence demanding attention.

Tiger shook his head as he extended his arm. "You'll be insufferable once you get that crown on your head."

North grinned, slipping his arm through Tiger's as they made their way to the carriage. "And you'll love every second of it."

The ride was lively, as always. North was in a playful mood, tapping his fingers against the leather seats as he chattered about the event, the guest list, and, most importantly, his outfit.

"I still don't understand how you breathe in those things," Tiger remarked, nudging North's waist pointedly.

North gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his corseted midsection. "Beauty requires sacrifice, dear cousin. I wouldn't expect you to understand."

Tiger rolled his eyes but smirked nonetheless.

They arrived soon after, pulling up to the grand Pruk estate. The sheer scale of it was impressive—tall stone walls, pristine courtyards, and the unmistakable air of military discipline woven into its design.

Tiger had spent a brief period as a marine when he was younger—an extenuating, brutal year of training—but one that had left him with valuable connections.

At the entrance, a tall man stood waiting.

Dark hair, sharp onyx eyes, his stance firm but welcoming. A smile crossed his face as he spotted them.

"Lord Tiger," Marine Zee greeted, extending a hand. "A pleasure to have you here."

Tiger clasped his hand with familiarity, nodding.

Before Zee could continue, another man approached—taller by just a centimeter, his rich brown hair styled to perfection, his skin glowing under the lantern light. He moved with an easy, confident grace, settling effortlessly beside Zee.

"They're waiting for you inside," the man said, his voice smooth, refined.

North, standing beside Tiger, visibly perked up.