SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 493: Little Celebration [I]

Trafalgar found himself positioned between Aubrelle and Mayla.

Aubrelle occupied one side, Pipin lounging close by while her cane stood within easy grasp whenever needed. Mayla took the other side, clearly more relaxed now that all had settled in. The table allowed talks to flow freely without crowding, yet stayed compact enough to keep things intimate. This setup highlighted the stark contrast immediately.

It bore no resemblance to the wedding whatsoever.

No rigid ranks of nobles feigned cordiality. Those present chatted purely from desire. They burst into laughter over genuinely hilarious moments. They feasted to relish the evening, not to merely survive it.

Trafalgar remained silent initially, his gaze scanning the surrounding faces.

Most visages were strangers. Aubrelle’s companions, individuals she clearly knew intimately since words flowed effortlessly from her. This drew his focus above all. Aubrelle spoke with a gentle tone he recognized, though rarely amid such a gathering. Tonight, she appeared unburdened. More authentically herself than the wedding had ever permitted.

’Good to see her unwind a bit.’

After all the turmoil, she merited at least one night free from feeling like a mere deal disguised as ritual.

Mayla spotted his quiet demeanor eventually and shot him a look. "You’re doing that thing again."

Trafalgar tilted toward her. "What thing?"

"The one where you sit like you’re assessing everyone in the room."

A subtle twitch lifted the edge of his mouth. "Maybe I am."

Mayla grinned. "Try acting normal for one night."

Before his reply could form, Aubrelle angled her face their way via Pipin’s vision. "She has a point."

Trafalgar eyed her. "So you two ganged up on me right as we sat."

"It’s not an attack," Aubrelle replied, a soft amusement threading her tone. "It’s concern."

"That sounds worse."

Mayla chuckled lightly, and Aubrelle’s lips even quirked upward.

That’s when Cynthia chose to join in.

"I truly never foresaw you becoming like this, Trafalgar."

Trafalgar directed his gaze her way. "Like what? Unique?"

Cynthia held his stare briefly, then exhaled softly via her nostrils. "That’s one way to phrase it. We all recognized your outrageous talent. Anyone observant could tell. But this..." She waved her hand vaguely, as if recent happenings could condense into the motion. "This goes beyond. Genius is one level. Whatever you’ve become is entirely separate."

Next to her, Bartholomew fiddled with his round glasses and bobbed his head in fervent accord.

Cynthia caught the gesture and pressed on, "You outpaced every first-year in raw power. Now, it’d be odd if you weren’t some freak outlier." Her yellow eyes lingered on him. "Still, we’ll watch if you actually complete the year right."

Trafalgar’s mouth corner twitched again. "So that’s your real worry."

"It ought to worry you as well."

Cutting off further exchange, Trafalgar faced Bartholomew. "Barth, I need a favor."

Bartholomew blinked rapidly. "A-a favor?"

Trafalgar grabbed his hand swiftly, preventing any retreat into his seat. "You’ve got to assist me."

Bartholomew froze instantly, rattled by the touch. His expression shifted so abruptly that Xavier peered over curiously. For an instant, it seemed he might collapse inwardly, but he rallied with effort and nodded.

"L-leave it to m-me."

Trafalgar let go and reclined. "Perfect. You’re my hero, Barth. Chaos left no room for other tasks. Now I can unwind slightly and tackle the backlog."

Xavier eyed him skeptically. "Relax? You?"

Trafalgar lifted his glass. "Yes. Seems they’ll allow me academy peace for once. Likely their scheme to avoid another disaster."

Xavier perked up at once. "That benefits me too. More sparring sessions."

"Indeed." Trafalgar glanced over. "You mentioned at the Council. Wanted to demonstrate something."

Xavier’s smile emerged faintly. "I still do."

Trafalgar studied him briefly. "A new Echo?"

Xavier’s grin broadened teasingly. "Not spoiling it. You’ll witness soon enough."

Trafalgar huffed softly. "So you’ll drag it out annoyingly."

"Naturally."

Zafira, silent till now, sipped her beverage and remarked, "He’s earned that privilege this time."

Cynthia shot her a look, then Xavier. "You must feel immensely proud."

"I do," Xavier admitted boldly.

Next, Trafalgar turned to Vivienne.

"Incidentally, proper introduction: this is Vivienne. She joins the academy with us next year."

This drew every eye at the table to her.

Vivienne, quieter than others so far, raised her gaze to meet multiple stares. She composed herself steadily, though a hint of uncertainty lingered in her posture, like she hadn’t claimed her place fully yet.

Cynthia acted first.

She stretched her hand over confidently. "Nice to meet you, Vivi. Cynthia here." A subtle smile played. "Fresh faces help when surrounded by this lot. Otherwise, things get stale fast."

Vivienne blinked at the directness, then clasped and responded. "Nice to meet you too."

Cynthia’s gaze appraised her momentarily, assessing without hostility.

Nearby, Bartholomew stiffened noticeably.

He tweaked his round glasses, eyed Vivienne, averted, then peeked again, mustering nerve for words but faltering silently each attempt.

Cynthia spotted it quick. "This is my brother, Bartholomew," she interjected, rescuing him. "Shy as evident, but totally safe."

Bartholomew flushed deeply. "C-Cynthia..."

Vivienne pivoted to him fully, her lingering unease easing. She offered a soft, reassuring smile designed to comfort without spotlighting.

"Nice to meet you too, Bartholomew."

That prompted him to straighten, face crimson.

"Y-yes. You t-too."

Opposite, Xavier had fallen oddly mute.

Trafalgar picked up on it right away.

His glances kept returning. He hung on Vivienne’s every word with unusual intensity absent from others. His features altered whenever she glanced near.

Trafalgar observed a beat more, then stated calmly, "Xavier, your drool’s about to drip on the table."

Xavier snapped to action.

He swiped his sleeve at his mouth corner preemptively. Realization hit too late. Vivienne watched. Cynthia hushed. Bartholomew gawked. Zafira’s attention shifted.

Xavier stiffened.

Then his cheeks burned.

Trafalgar’s lips curved slyly.

"Don’t lie to me, Trafalgar," Xavier countered, dignity crumbling. "Nothing was there."

Laughter erupted across the table.

Cynthia started it. Mayla followed. Aubrelle’s mouth softened beside Trafalgar, Bartholomew emitted a stifled squeak.

Vivienne eyed Xavier once more, then dropped her gaze, hiding a subtle unintended smile.

The table’s cozy vibe intensified thereafter, and for the first time upon arrival, she blended seamlessly into the circle.