Chaos Girl Rewrites the Script novel Chapter 271

"So this is the legendary Ravenshire heir. He really is spectacular."

Most of the young heiresses flushed deeply, stealing careful, wide-eyed glances at him.

"Is he even real? He's so handsome."

Caspian smiled warmly, clapping Alaric on the shoulder before introducing him to the table of esteemed elders and family heads.

Preston sat next to Graham in the inner circle. The moment Alaric approached, Preston stood up, his demeanor perfectly polished as he extended a hand. "Welcome home, Alaric."

Alaric glanced at Preston's outstretched hand, hesitating for a fraction of a second before briefly clasping his fingertips.

"Thank you."

A flicker of darkness passed through Preston's eyes, but he kept his smile pinned in place as he sat back down.

It wasn't just the lovestruck teenagers; even the seasoned socialite mothers couldn't help but be moved by the sight of him.

Which of them didn't have a daughter? Which of them didn't desperately want a son-in-law of this caliber? But the mothers could only sigh in resignation. Everyone knew the rules of the game. The men sitting at that center table represented the absolute pinnacle of the country's wealth and power. Alaric's status placed him untouchably high—a moon hanging far beyond their reach.

Mina and Sophia were lingering in the crowd. Watching Alaric bask in the center of the universe, Sophia couldn't hold back her awe. "That face is literally a masterpiece sculpted by the gods, isn't it? My brother is probably choking on his own rage right now."

Mina had zero interest in Alaric. She stood on her tiptoes, scanning the crowd dismissively. "This is nothing. You clearly haven't seen what real beauty looks like."

Sophia scoffed. "You think there's someone better looking than Alaric Ravenshire? What is he, some kind of mythical creature?"

Just as the words left her mouth, a figure stepped through the entrance, catching the ambient light perfectly and drawing every eye in the room.

Mina's breath hitched, her eyes turning glassy. "He absolutely is," she murmured.

The kind that devoured souls.

Cyril walked slightly behind Dorian, yet it felt as though the universe had carved out a single, blinding spotlight just for him.

Also dressed in a sharp black suit, Cyril wore a crisp white shirt beneath it. There was no distinct line between boy and man in his features—he simply existed on his own breathtaking wavelength. Just by standing there, he effortlessly stole back every ounce of attention Alaric had claimed moments before.

"Who is that?"

Hushed, frantic whispers rippled through the crowd.

"The one walking behind Mr. Ravenshire... could it be..."

Victoria had been laughing and chatting easily with the other socialites, holding a delicate glass of wine. The moment she saw Dorian personally escorting Cyril into the hall, her smile twisted into something jagged and vicious. Her hand trembled so violently that red wine splashed over the rim, staining the pristine floor.

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