Beast Gacha System: All Mine-Chapter 203: Surfacing Disgrace

The noblewomen pressed closer, their earlier reserve melted entirely by the warmth of Lady Sees’s chaotic storytelling. A duchess from the southern principalities leaned in, her eyes sparkling with barely contained curiosity.

"My Lady, you must tell us. What was your third husband like? The one who gifted you this magnificent dress?"

Lady Sees’s red lips curved into a smile that was equal parts fondness and mischief. "Oh, he is—" She paused, tilting her head as if considering her words carefully. "He is like a hot summer storm. Fierce. Unpredictable. Absolutely terrifying if you catch him on the wrong day."

A delicate laugh. "But when he calms, he wraps around you like warm sunlight, and you forget why you were ever afraid."

A young beast lady, her ears red, twitching with interest, gasped. "That sounds romantic."

"It is," Lady Sees agreed, her voice softening. "Exhausting, mmm... overstimulating... but romantic."

Laughter rippled through the group. A matronly wolf noblewoman shook her head, grinning. "Exhausting! My dear, you have a way with words."

"I have a way with living," Lady Sees corrected playfully. "The words just follow along, trying to keep up."

More laughter. The group had grown now, not just women, but men too, drawn by the sound of genuine amusement rather than the polished, calculated laughter of political gatherings.

Even some of the sterner lords had drifted closer, pretending to examine the refreshments while their ears did unmistakable work.

"And the marks?" another woman asked, gesturing delicately toward the dark red lines visible on Cecilia’s arm. "You said they were from your first true husband?"

Lady Sees’s fingers traced the marks again, her expression softening into something tender. "Mm. He was an artist, you see. He saw me, all broken and caged, and decided I was worth the effort of restoration." She smiled, wistful. "Every line is a promise he kept."

A reverent silence fell, broken only by a soft sigh from one of the more romantic young ladies.

Then Lady Sees clapped her hands lightly, the chains at her wrists chiming. "But enough of my ancient history! Tell me about you, all of you. I’ve been monopolizing the conversation like a greedy child with a sweetcake."

The group laughed, the tension breaking, and for a glorious, ridiculous moment, the banquet hall felt less like a political battlefield and more like a gathering of old friends sharing stories over wine.

No one noticed the time passed, but it was in the middle of a spirited debate about the proper way to wear desert jewelry that Cecilia felt it, a small weight against her hip.

She looked down.

Rinne was leaning against her, his small face pressed into her shoulder. His eyes were half-closed, his tail drooping behind him, and as she watched, a tiny, unconscious yawn escaped him.

Cecilia’s heart melted.

She reached him, her hand finding the top of his head, fingers threading gently through his hair. He leaned into the touch like a cat seeking warmth.

"Baby," she murmured, her voice soft. "How about you go and rest? You’ve worked hard today."

Rinne’s eyes flew open. "Noooo..." The word escaped him before he could stop it, a whine, unconscious. His hands clutched her fingers. He wanted to stay. He wanted to be here, with her, in the light and warmth and laughter.

Then he realized what he had done.

A blush exploded across his cheeks, vivid. His ears flattened against his head. His hands released her as if burned.

"Y-yes, Lord Mother..." The words were small, embarrassed, but obedient.

He turned and walked away, his small shoulders squared with the effort of maintaining dignity. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

Cecilia watched him go.

He rubbed his eyes as he walked. Such a good boy. Such a good boy, trying so hard to be brave and grown-up when he was still so small.

She watched until he disappeared into the crowd.

And then she realized.

Arkai had been gone for a long time.

The warmth in her chest cooled, replaced by a thin thread of worry. Whatever had called him away was taking longer than a simple emergency should. Longer than a quick word with Borak, a brief check on some matter.

She scanned the room, finding one of Arkai’s aides, a young wolf with sharp eyes and an eager demeanor, standing near the refreshment table.

She glided over to him, her chains whispering.

"I need you to do something for me," she said softly.

The aide blushed, straightened immediately. "Of course, Luna."

"Host for me. Encourage people to dance, to enjoy themselves. Keep the mood light." She smiled. "Can you do that?"

"Yes, Luna. Absolutely."

"And if anyone asks where I’ve gone..." She paused, her red lips curving. "Tell them I’m worried about Rinne. A mother’s heart, you understand."

The aide nodded, understanding perfectly. "Of course, my Lady. I’ll handle everything."

Cecilia squeezed his arm briefly and then she slipped away, moving through the crowd, heading not toward the children’s quarters, but toward wherever Arkai had disappeared.

The worry in her chest grew with every step.

And more than a pair of eyes watched her.

Cecilia felt them as she moved through the crowd. The subtle weight of observation, the flicker of movement in peripheral vision.

But that was okay. This was Arkai’s domain. His men were everywhere. No one would dare follow her inside uninvited. No one would investigate too closely. The Wolf King’s privacy was absolute, and his wolves enforced it with deadly efficiency.

She moved quickly, her chains whispering against the stone floors, her veil catching the dim light of the corridor sconces.

Where could Arkai be? Where could an emergency serious enough to pull him from his own wedding announcement have occurred?

Her mind raced through possibilities. It might not be Eastiel or Oathran. If something had happened to one of them, if the news was truly urgent, she would have been summoned from the banquet hall. Arkai would not have left her ignorant.

Could it be Arzhen? Had the Tiger Prince finally returned, bold enough to show his face here? Or Elara—Anton’s wife?

THUD—"UGH!"

Cecilia froze.

The sound was unmistakable. Flesh against flesh. A punch, heavy and brutal, followed by a groaning exhale. It came from ahead, through an arched doorway that opened onto the inner courtyard.

She moved toward it, her steps silent.

Through the doorway, she saw them.

Arkai stood in the moonlit courtyard, his posture radiating cold, absolute fury. One hand grasped a man by the collar, lifting him effortlessly. The other fist rose and fell, rose and fell, connecting with the man’s face in a rhythm as relentless as a heartbeat.

Over and over and over.

The man’s head snapped back with each impact, blood spraying, but Arkai did not stop. His face was not the warm, gentle expression he wore with her. It was cold. Wrathful.

But he hadn’t transformed. He remained in human form, his wolf restrained behind walls of iron discipline. Or perhaps... too restrained. Exploding inward.

Arkai threw the man away.

He crumpled towards the ground, but before he could fall, Arkai’s wolves were there, Borak among them, catching him, hauling him upright, holding him by both arms. The man sagged between them, his face a ruin of blood and swelling.

"You have no right calling him your son." Arkai’s voice was cold, absolute. "He is Rinne Dawnoro. My son."

The beaten man lifted his head. Through the blood and the swelling, through the ruin of his features, he smiled. A sneer. A mocking, terrible thing.

"I see now."

His voice was a wet rasp, thick with blood.

"You’re saying... Rinne is not my son, but yours... Arkai Dawnoro." A wet chuckle bubbled up from his throat. "Then... did you fuck his mom too? Your... sister, Sienna?"

The courtyard went silent.

"Is that why he’s your son?"