Summon the Modern Lady!

============================

"What does your homeland look like?"

"Do you have powers or knowledge to offer us?"

"How are we even communicating? Is your language magical?"

"Can we trust you? Will your people come looking for you?"

The questions came in waves, crashing over Cheska relentlessly. Each inquiry was sharper and louder than the last, slicing through her nerves.

She stole a glance at the people bombarding her.

These weren't ordinary citizens— they were supposed to be the most refined and composed individuals in the kingdom. Nobles, merchants, and scholars who ruled their domains with grace and tact.

Yet here they were, huddled together like frenzied reporters chasing the scoop of the century.

Manners? Nonexistent.

Self-control? Thrown out the window.

The air was thick with desperation and unspoken fears, and Cheska's patience was wearing thin.

King Villiam had made his announcement earlier, addressing the summons as an unfortunate mistake. For a brief moment, the truth had quieted the crowd.

But only briefly.

Thirty minutes later, the "awarding ceremony" for the summoned guests had barely scratched the surface—only two of the ten recipients had been acknowledged. Meanwhile, the nobles couldn't contain their curiosity any longer, breaking away from their seats to swarm the summoned guests like moths to a flame.

Cheska scanned the room.

Amaranthe, to her left, was weathering her storm with unnerving calm. Though bombarded with questions, she didn't openly glare but maintained an icy composure. Her piercing stare silenced the louder questioners, forcing them to approach her one at a time.

She was a fortress.

Nearby, Ayessa and Emette worked together seamlessly, deflecting questions with charm and efficiency. Their synchronized responses turned what could've been chaos into manageable dialogue. 

It was a great sight to see them match.

Even Kayer, surrounded by his own curious circle, commanded a level of respect that kept the questioning subdued. Perhaps it was his crown prince status—or his intimidating presence—but his group kept their volume in check.

And then there was Cheska.

She had smiled. That one, fatal smile during her entry.

Now, everyone assumed she was approachable, kind, willing.

And she was nice, but that was the issue.

"Our homeland doesn't have magic nor any means of summoning or teleporting to another world," she answered as calmly as she could. "Thus, it's impossible for them to invade here."

Another question followed.

And another.

And another.

Her polite responses invited even more inquiries, her answers fueling their insatiable curiosity.

"Where exactly is your world located?"

"What are your people's weapons like?"

"Do you have gods? Are they powerful?"

One by one.

Then in bundles.

God, help me. 

She tried her best, but the flood of questions began to pile up, tightening around her like an invisible noose.

Cheska could feel her composure slipping as memories of her corporate life rushed in—coordinating chaotic book signings, fighting for concert tickets against rabid fans, battling publishers over deadlines.

In her world, Editor Cheska Reyes was not known for her kindness.

She was known for being ruthless.

The queen recruiter for conventions, capable of spotting potential talent from a mere glance at a synopsis.

She had thrived under pressure.

But since she had started off kindly in this world, it felt awkward to be her usual snarky self.

Her jaw tightened as she forced another smile. Her thoughts raced.

They'll drive me insane. I'll snap. I'll scream. They're really so nois—

"Shit."

The curse slipped out.

Everyone seemed to pause.

The silence lingered like a storm about to break.

Cheska sighed audibly, her polite facade completely gone. Sharp blue eyes scanned the stunned crowd, and her voice, now firm and commanding, rang out clearly.

"Calm down, ladies and gentlemen. If you won't conduct yourselves properly, I will walk away. Decide amongst yourselves— I'll only answer five more questions."

The crowd was stunned into stillness. A few visibly bristled, offended by her bluntness.

Whispers rippled through the gathering, but before anyone could voice their discontent, a group of scholars jumped at the opportunity.

"Five? That's reasonable—let's prioritize!" one of them urged, trying to rally cooperation.

Panic rippled across the group as nobles and merchants alike scrambled to decide which questions were most important. Cheska stood still, her arms crossed, her face carefully neutral as they argued among themselves.

Her reprieve lasted thirty blissfully calm minutes.

When the final question was asked and answered, Cheska exhaled, her lips curling into a faint, victorious smile. She clapped her hands together lightly, drawing the group's attention once more.

"Wow, we've finished all the answers for today. I'll enjoy the banquet now, okay?"

Before anyone could stop her, she turned on her heel and strode away, leaving them to mutter amongst themselves.

Her gaze darted around the expansive hall.

Spotting an open patio door leading to a quiet balcony, she began weaving through the crowd, skillfully avoiding attention. Ducking behind pillars and skirting around tables, Cheska moved swiftly, eager to escape the relentless atmosphere.

Finally, she reached the area. But as she reached the door, a voice called out behind her.

"Excuse me, miss."

Cheska turned sharply, her guard immediately up.

A young man with jet-black hair and an easy smile stood there, his demeanor relaxed and friendly.

At first, she thought he was just another inquisitive noble trying to strike up a conversation. But something about his approach made her uneasy.

"Good evening," he greeted smoothly, bowing slightly. "You looked like you could use some company."

Cheska's lips pressed into a thin line.

For some reason, her instincts flared. His words were polite, but his presence felt off. Casually glancing past him, she noticed a table of unfamiliar faces watching them intently.

She took a step back, her voice firm. "I appreciate the gesture, but I'd prefer to be alone."

The man's smile faltered slightly, and he raised his voice, his tone taking on an edge. "Oh, come now. It's just conversation. Surely you wouldn't deny me that?"

Cheska stiffened. The volume of his voice was enough to draw glances, but when she looked around, she realized something unsettling: she didn't recognize anyone nearby.

The massive ballroom's structure divided the space into three circular areas, with tables lining the edges. Her usual group wasn't in sight.

The man took a step closer, his hand reaching out. Cheska's reflexes kicked in, and she slapped his hand away, her tone sharp.

"I told you to stop. This fucker..." Her frustration, already worn thin by the evening, boiled over. "Are you deaf?"

The man's face twisted in anger.

"You wench!"

He raised his hand as if to retaliate, and Cheska instinctively moved, her own fist ready to meet his.

But before either could strike, a firm hand intercepted them both.

Cheska's gaze snapped to the newcomer.

A tall man in a dark blue outfit that perfectly matched his midnight-blue hair stood between them. His face was partially obscured by a pristine white mask, but his piercing honey-colored eyes gleamed coldly through the openings.

The young man who had been harassing her visibly flinched at the sight of the masked stranger. "M-Master Arenied…" he stammered, quickly lowering his arm.

The masked man—Riverus Arenied—tilted his head slightly, his tone calm yet laced with authority. "How is your business faring these days, Sir Ariel?"

His voice was smooth, but the pitch felt slightly off—lower than expected, as if it didn't quite match the fluid cadence of his words.

The harasser fumbled for words, his demeanor immediately shifting to one of deference. "T-Thanks to your potions, everything is going well. Truly, I owe you my success."

He offered a nervous smile and quickly excused himself, retreating into the crowd.

Cheska watched him disappear, her shoulders relaxing slightly. She turned to Riverus, who had just released her wrist.

For a heartbeat, neither spoke.

The cool night breeze brushed past them, teasing strands of Cheska's hair and the edges of Riverus's midnight-blue coat. His honey-colored eyes gleamed behind the mask, catching the faint glow of moonlight.

"Thank you," she said softly, her voice a careful blend of caution and gratitude.

He tilted his head, his expression inscrutable behind the white mask. "You seemed perfectly capable of handling him yourself," he said, the faintest hint of amusement lacing his tone.

Cheska crossed her arms, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "And yet, you stepped in anyway."

Riverus chuckled, the sound low and unhurried. "Yes, but had I not, my lady, you might have resolved the matter with a punch. While effective, that would've complicated matters. You'd likely find yourself summoned to court before dawn."

Cheska studied him, her guard still up as she stepped outside the balcony, leaning on the railing. "Well he deserved it."

Riverus met her eyes, his expression unreadable behind the mask. "Yes," he said, his voice soft but firm. "He did."

"And you are?"

The masked man chuckled again, this time more softly, as if humored by her question. Instead of answering, he turned his attention to the moonlit view beyond the balcony.

"Enjoy the rest of your evening, Lady Cheska." he murmured, his voice smooth and distant, as if he were speaking to the night itself.

Before she could press him further, he strode away, disappearing back into the crowd.

Cheska let out a soft breath, uncrossing her arms as she stared at the door that had closed behind him.

"Weird guy," she muttered, half to herself. "I thought he'd be some frail old man, but turns out he's… what? My age?"

The name echoed in her mind— the one she'd heard earlier.

Master Arenied.

Her lips pouted in thought. The great alchemist she'd heard about.

That had to be him, right?

Kayer and Amaranthe had spoken of him before, their mentions brief but always laced with intrigue.

His name was Riverus Arenied.

Even if she wasn't sure, she can check him out later. Ayessa mentioned the ranking of awardees and the masked alchemist was third from the last.

Cheska's gaze shifted, drawn by a glimmer in the corner of her vision.

On the flat railing was a single bottle of white wine and two glasses. One was empty, with faint traces of use, while the other stood untouched, its crystal surface catching the light in delicate refractions.

Curiosity pulled her closer.

Cheska glanced around the balcony, ensuring she was alone. Satisfied, she reached for the untouched glass, inspecting it with care.

No strange odors, no signs of tampering. Still, she wiped the rim with the hem of her dress before pouring herself a drink.

Should I? The question lingered, faint and fleeting. Then, a grin curved her lips.

Why not? It's a new world anyway.

The wine was crisp, the flavor light and delicate, with a faint floral undertone that lingered on her tongue. It wasn't overly strong, but it carried an elegance she couldn't quite place.

By her third sip, Cheska paused, savoring the aftertaste before setting the glass back down. A soft sigh escaped her.

"Better not overdo it," she murmured, leaning against the railing once more.

Her gaze drifted to the moonlit expanse beyond, but her thoughts lingered on the masked man who had disappeared into the crowd.

A faint smile tugged at her lips.

"Master Arenied," she mused quietly, glancing at the half-empty glass. "Whoever you are, you have excellent taste in wine."