Aether City – Skyglass Tower, 7:45 PM
(Where the drinks are enchanted, and so are the egos.)
Charity galas in Aether City weren't really about charity.
They were about power, clothes and who could wear the most ridiculous aura shimmer while pretending they weren't in a competition. If someone raised money for starving orphans along the way, that was just a convenient footnote.
The one tonight was hosted at Skyglass Tower, the highest building in the Upper City, complete with floating balconies, anti-fall barriers and a glittering view of the skyline that screamed, "We're rich and you're not."
And me? I was walking in like I owned the place.
Because I did.
Well—not Skyglass Tower itself.
But the penthouse?
The one my ex-fiancée Rhea Valestra thought still belonged to her?
Oh yeah.
I bought it, paid in full. Three days ago.
Changed the locks.
Replaced the ugly gold drapes with obsidian silk.
Left her a welcome note signed:
—Management, aka the Villain You Cancelled
The Arrival
I stepped out of the enchanted limo with the kind of swagger you can't fake A Black suit with a subtle crimson stitching at the cuffs that only glowed when the light hit just right. Hair styled with Wind-Type Freeze™ Hold. Mana cologne so potent it probably violated two Guild health codes.
Behind me, K1NG buzzed softly through my contact lens.
K1NG: Sir, your suit is reading at 94% effectiveness. Charm stat boosted. Sass level… dangerously high.
"Perfect," I said under my breath.
The paparazzi started snapping the moment I stepped onto the glass bridge. They didn't recognize me but they would soon.
That's how it always starts, a flicker of confusion then realization.
After that, regret.
Inside the Gala
The ballroom was everything you'd expect: high ceilings enchanted to mimic a twilight sky, soft orchestral music that shifted to match your aura, floating trays of drinks that refilled themselves when you made prolonged eye contact.
All around me: nobles, CEOs, influencers, micro-celebrity mages with six-digit follower counts and self-renewing lip gloss. Magic was everywhere, in the hovering lights, ice sculptures that whispered compliments and dresses that shimmered with mood-based runes.
I walked past a pair of rich spellcasters mid-flirt.
One paused, then did a double take.
"Is that…?"
"No way. Dante Vale's dead."
"That's definitely Dante Vale."
"He looks expensive."
Yes. Yes, I do.
The Petty Unveiling
Rhea stood across the room like the star of her own personal fantasy drama: draped in moonlight silk, hair in a loose updo like she just woke up flawless. Her aura shimmered the way it always did when she knew people were watching.
She laughed at something the Hero—Elios Fenbright—just whispered.
Of course he was here too.
He always was, like a bad sequel.
I took a slow sip of my drink and casually walked toward them, perfectly timed to intercept as they turned.
Her eyes met mine.
She froze.
Not like pause freeze.
Like someone-just-saw-the-ghost-of-the-man-they-left-for-dead freeze.
"Dante?"
One word. Soft. Unsure. Coated in fake surprise.
I smiled—one of those calm, polite CEO smiles with just a sprinkle of "I remember everything you did to me, you bootleg Barbie."
"Good evening," I said. "Long time, no livestreamed public betrayal."
The Awkward Reunion
Elios, ever the Hero™️, recovered faster.
He extended a hand like we were old rivals in a fencing club.
"Dante. Didn't know you made it out of the Dead Zone alive."
"You're not the only thing that survived on luck and good PR," I replied, shaking his hand.
His smile twitched.
Rhea blinked. "You… you look different."
"I moisturize now," I said. "And I stopped dating people who sell their souls for social clout."
There was a long, delicious silence.
Then, I leaned just slightly closer.
"Oh," I added. "By the way—your apartment's locks might not work tomorrow."
Her expression cracked. "What?"
"Nothing," I said sweetly. "Enjoy the gala."
Two Hours Later
Rhea stormed up the elevator in full diva mode, makeup still perfect, heels clicking like she was challenging the marble floor to a duel.
She reached her door.
Pressed her thumb against the enchanted pad.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
"Open," she hissed. "Override—Rhea Valestra, Level 3 access."
Access denied. This unit is now property of Ashvale Enterprises.
She froze.
Behind the door, music began playing. Smooth jazz, definitely petty.
Then the door opened.
And I stood there.
Wearing a robe while holding a glass of wine. A cat perched on my shoulder like I was auditioning for "Villain of the Year."
"Hi," I said. "Funny seeing you here. Oh wait. This was your place, right?"
Her jaw dropped. "You… you BOUGHT it?!"
"Technically," I said, sipping, "I bought the entire top floor. But yes, this specific unit? Yours. Well—mine now."
"I still live here!"
"And I still remember being dumped via group DM," I said. "We all have things to move past."
The Final Blow
She stared at me like she was waiting for the punchline. Like this was a prank show, and any second I'd start laughing and hand her back the keys.
Instead, I handed her a letter.
Dear Ms. Valestra,
As of this evening, your lease has been absorbed by Ashvale Holdings™.
Please remove all non-magical belongings by sundown tomorrow.
Anything left behind will be auctioned to fund a support group for canceled ex-fiancés.
Warm regards,
D. Vale
"Have a good night, Rhea," I said gently. "Elevator music's been upgraded. Plays 'Karma' now."
And with that, I shut the door.
Behind it, the cat meowed.
I raised my glass to him.
"To the glow-up," I said.
He purred in agreement.