Chapter 106: The Emergence of Candidates for the Throne

"Alright, everyone. Thank you for coming to this party. I hope you’re all in good spirits."

A voice rang out from the center of the hall, instantly drawing the attention of every guest present.

All eyes turned to Prime Minister Roswell, who was clearly acting as the host for the evening.

"Well then, let’s not waste any time. Please welcome His Majesty, Emperor Ragan!"

As soon as Roswell finished speaking, he stepped aside, making way for the emperor’s entrance.

From the side entrance—grander than even the main doors—Emperor Ragan emerged before the guests.

Tall and broad-shouldered, he wore a gleaming golden robe and a majestic crown atop his head.

With every step, he radiated authority and resolve, compelling the guests to instinctively bow their heads.

Upon reaching Prime Minister Roswell’s side, the guests placed their left hands over their chests and bowed in unison.

"Long life to you, Your Majesty!"

Their voices rose in unison, echoing even beyond the palace walls.

Ragan responded with a subtle nod and slowly raised both hands.

"Rise," he said calmly.

Everyone lifted their heads, eyes filled with reverence.

"Thank you all for attending my birthday celebration," Ragan began casually, though his tone carried unmistakable authority.

His gaze swept across the room before continuing, "I’m sure many of you are aware why this year’s celebration lacks its usual grandeur."

The hall fell silent—but the quiet was enough to show they understood.

Ragan nodded slowly, then added, "The succession process began over a week ago. I know many of you are still undecided—and I understand. That’s why this party is not just a celebration, but also an opportunity. Please use this evening to get to know the candidates. Hopefully, it will help you make your decision soon."

His words instantly shifted the atmosphere in the hall. Many guests took a deep breath, their expressions growing solemn.

From the beginning, they had suspected that this birthday celebration was merely a facade. The true purpose was clear now—to force them to reveal where their loyalties lay.

It seems His Majesty truly wishes to accelerate the succession.

That thought passed through everyone’s mind—including Nolan’s and Orlan’s.

The two exchanged glances, then shared a faint smile.

Historically, succession in the Empire took anywhere from two to three years.

But seeing how directly Ragan was involving himself this time, it was obvious to everyone—he wanted the process concluded much sooner.

Could it be that the old man is truly concerned about the Holy Empire of Valtanir’s growing interference?

Nolan murmured, his eyes narrowing slightly.

If there was one thing that could unsettle the emperor’s composure, it was the Holy Empire of Valtanir—an empire backed directly by the Singularity of Light.

"Alright, enough pleasantries," Ragan said with a nonchalant tone.

His voice snapped everyone out of their reverie, drawing their attention back at once.

"Let us welcome the candidates for the succession to the throne."

With that, Ragan turned his head toward the grand doors from which he had entered, a faint smile playing on his lips.

From behind the door, six figures began to emerge: Aldric, Cedric, Adalen, Zarak, Cassian, and Elina. Each exuded a distinct aura that immediately drew the attention of everyone in the room.

Yet among them, four figures stood out at once—Aldric, Cedric, Adalen, and Elina.

Aldric, tall and broad-shouldered like the emperor himself, wore a golden robe trimmed with elegant black.

His commanding presence and refined demeanor were so striking that many guests fell silent in awe at just a single glance.

In contrast, Cedric and Adalen appeared in robes of green and white—colors that seemed to perfectly match their personalities and temperaments.

Zarak and Cassian, on the other hand, wore robes of red and brown.

Although their outfits suited them well, they lacked the commanding charm needed to rival Aldric, Cedric, and Adalen, drawing only fleeting glances from the crowd.

And finally, Elina stepped forward with graceful poise, instantly captivating the entire hall. Her beauty was so breathtaking that for a brief moment, it seemed the whole room forgot to breathe.

She was tall, slender, and elegantly proportioned—her feminine silhouette radiated a natural, effortless grace.

The silver gown she wore featured an off-shoulder cut, revealing smooth, glistening white skin that seemed to shimmer in the moonlight pouring through the grand windows on either side of the hall.

Around her neck hung a delicate necklace adorned with a red gemstone—the final touch that elevated her allure.

Her snow-white hair was styled in a braided updo, projecting both softness and refinement, yet with an edge—like a beautifully sheathed sword.

Her violet eyes were calm and indifferent, and that very indifference was what made her most dangerously alluring.

Many young nobles found themselves entranced by her. Their eyes locked onto Elina’s face, unable to look away, while their hearts raced wildly out of control.

"Is that Princess Elina? My goodness... what a beauty! She looks like a goddess!"

A young lady from Novaria’s circle covered her mouth, unable to hide her awe.

"You’re right! Her face is so perfect—it doesn’t even seem real!" Another gasped, equally stunned.

Normally, women felt at least a trace of envy when faced with another’s beauty. It was instinct—natural, even—to want to be the center of attention wherever they went.

But in the presence of Elina’s flawless beauty, that instinct vanished completely. Not a trace of jealousy remained, as if the emotion had never existed in the first place.

It was unnatural, absurd—even contradictory to their very nature as women.

"Tsk! Her brother is already so handsome and charming, and now her twin sister looks like a goddess. If they weren’t siblings, I’d say they’d make a perfect couple," one of the young ladies remarked with a light chuckle.

But instead of laughter, her comment was met with uneasy stares—some even laced with disgust.

The young woman looked around, puzzled. "What? Why are you all looking at me like that? Did I say something wrong?"

No one replied. They simply shook their heads. Most of them were conservative women, and such an inappropriate joke clearly clashed with their values.

As the mood turned awkward, Novaria remained still, a distant look in her eyes.

"Elina is... really beautiful..."

The words slipped from her lips before she could stop them, startling even herself.

She was one of the few who had always disliked Elina—had even looked down on her.

Yet now, the very girl she once underestimated had become the center of everyone’s attention... and it stung. A bitter mix of resentment and envy churned in her chest.

First it was Rafine... and now Elina. How am I losing to women I can’t even stand?