My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Damon didn't even get a chance to respond to the Duke before Evangeline stepped in.

"Father… we are very tired. I'm sure we can regale you with our adventures after we've rested…"

Duke Cassian's golden eyes flicked to her. She was clearly anxious, her voice composed but tight.

He gave a small nod.

"Very well then… Jarvis, show them to their quarters."

The butler bowed in reply. Several maids fell in line behind him without a word.

Damon glanced sideways at Evangeline.

She was hiding something.

'What's she hiding…?'

He considered sending his shadow to investigate, but quickly dismissed the thought. This place was teeming with powerhouses. Too many unknowns. He didn't even dare extend his shadow perception.

He tried using Appraisal—

Only to be met with rows of question marks.

They're all ranked higher than me… great.

But the worst part?

It was the butler, Jarvis.

There was no aura, no hostility—

And yet Damon instinctively felt it.

A dangerous man.

'Ducal households are no joke… No wonder no one wants to cross them.'

—

Not long after, Damon found himself in a massive room—alone. It was luxurious, absurdly so, with towering glass windows, velvet drapes, and polished wood furniture that looked older than most kingdoms. Six maids were stationed nearby. A pair of knights too.

He was free to move.

But it still felt like a cage.

Every direction he looked made escape feel impossible.

Every hallway—another trap.

He needed intel.

Despite the risks, he sent out a shade—keeping it low, thin, and subtle. Something small. Just enough to breathe.

It slithered along the floor, slipping into the cracks of the stone, under doors, through the crevices of the castle.

He followed its senses, watching, listening.

The shade slid beneath the hem of a maid's dress—just in time to hear a conversation.

"Annette, who do you think that young man is?" a younger maid whispered. "He got an entire wing to himself… not just any wing that wing."

The older one sighed. "Shut up before you get yourself in trouble. One displeased lord and your head will fly."

"But Annette… he's really handsome…"

Damon, watching through the shadow, almost felt flattered.

Annette stopped in her tracks, casting a stern glance over her shoulder.

"Ishka… You're still new here. If I were you, I'd shut my mouth and keep my head out of the clouds."

Ishka pouted slightly. "Right. I understand… I'm sorry."

Annette sighed, finally relaxing after leaving the wing.

"He's almost as imposing as His Grace…"

That made Ishka giggle.

"I thought so too… They look great together. Eye candy…"

Annette slapped the back of her head. "Shut up, you idiot. We've got prep work for the ball. Stop gossiping before someone overhears."

Damon's brow rose.

A ball…?

His shadow shifted away from the maids, gliding along the lavish corridor and slipping under door after door.

But after a while… he got lost.

The palace looked the same from every direction. Elegant, yes—but frustratingly identical.

Eventually, he found himself near a more secluded section of the estate.

It was in the same wing as he was; he could tell by how close the shade was.

There, he hit something unexpected.

A barrier.

"Huh… runes."

They weren't meant to block people.

But they stopped specters.

Detection-based enchantments.

"Guess I'll call it a day."

He retreated. The shade glided back, slipping under guards' noses, occasionally hitching rides in the shadows of a moving maid.

He'd seen enough.

His friends weren't anywhere nearby.

They'd been sent to another wing—far from his.

"Am I getting… special treatment?"

He didn't know if it was discrimination or something else. But what struck him most was how the maids and knights in his wing walked like they were stepping through a lion's den.

Like he was the lion….or maybe someone else was.

And that constant feeling of being watched—

He lay down on the bed, eyes on the ceiling.

'Ducal households really are something else… we only just arrived, and they're already planning a ball.'

He thought about Lilith.

If he ever got dragged into one of these noble events, it would've been because she forced him to.

Still—

'Maybe this is a good opportunity… If I can make some connections in noble society, I might get closer to the temple's power. Influence is key.'

Brightwater would likely only invite nobles from their region—vassals and lords under their banner.

And as a guest of the Duke, Damon would be shown some level of respect.

Hopefully, it's not one of those 'invite the commoner to humiliate him' kind of deals…

He sat up.

Shadows shifted.

He sensed movement—maids approaching. Multiple footsteps.

Then a knock.

He turned his head.

The door opened.

A small army of maids entered, their arms stacked with fine clothing. Outfits of every color and style imaginable.

One of them bowed.

"His Excellency, the Duke, has invited you to dine with the family. We are here to assist you in getting dressed."

She lifted her head, voice clear and practiced.

"I am Annette. I will be the maid serving you henceforth."

Damon blinked.

"…Okay."

And that was all it took.

As soon as he said it, they began.

It was overwhelming. He tried to protest, but when he did, they looked at him like he'd sentenced them to death.

He couldn't bring himself to argue again.

In the end, they dressed him like a noble—refined and princely. They tried to remove the cloth covering the Pale Crown, but he refused, even when they pleaded.

So they compromised.

They gave him an outfit with a regal hood—just enough to cover the crown, yet still look proper.

When it was over, he barely recognized himself.

Annette led the way out.

The moment they left his wing, she visibly relaxed—as though a weight had been lifted from her back.

Strange… the feeling of being watched was gone.

—

They arrived in a grand room.

Ornate carvings, stained-glass windows, and a long, polished dining table flanked with gold-trimmed chairs.

Only one person sat there.

Evangeline.

She wore a peach dress. Elegant. Her hair was tied to the side with a golden accessory. For a moment, Damon forgot she was the same girl who had was always bickering with him.

He smiled and walked over, giving a mock bow.

"My lady, you look absolutely beautiful today."

She gave him a look.

This guy really had guts.

She stood and curtsied in return.

"Thank you, Lord Grey…"

Then she leaned toward him and whispered through a clenched smile—

"Not now, you bastard…"

Damon smirked, amused, as a maid guided him to a seat—

at the far end of the table, beside a large, empty throne-like chair.

He noticed Evangeline fidgeting.

So much for trying to lighten the mood…

Soon, the others began to arrive—Xander, Sylvia, Leona, Matia.

Then came the Duke and Duchess.

The Duke took his place at the head of the table, the Duchess beside him. Evangeline sat at his right hand.

The table remained untouched.

They were clearly waiting for someone.

And then—

A presence entered.

The room shifted.

Everyone stood—including the Duke himself.

Damon, caught off guard, was a second too slow. But he rose anyway.

The Grand Duke had arrived.

He walked with quiet authority, golden hair slicked back, eyes sharp. An old monster dressed in nobility.

He stopped beside Damon, giving him a brief glance.

Then he sat.

Right next to Damon.

The only person sitting beside him.

Damon sat down slowly after.

'Ahhh. I knew I had a bad feeling…'