SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 495: A Truth for Aubrelle

Gradually, the festivities started to dwindle after that.

Zafira left among the earliest, as quiet as always. She bid a proper farewell to Aubrelle first, then to everyone else, and departed with the same serene poise she brought to all things.

Following her, more of Aubrelle’s companions started to depart too. Cynthia rose with her typical grace, whereas Bartholomew lingered a bit more, seeming as though even a simple goodbye demanded he muster some bravery beforehand.

Vivienne lingered slightly longer than a few others, but not excessively. As she stood up at last, a subtle unease still hung about her every time Xavier glanced in her direction. That tension hadn’t existed at the evening’s beginning.

Slowly, the table cleared out.

Ultimately, just Trafalgar, Mayla, Aubrelle, and Rhosyn were left.

By that point, the restaurant had become far more hushed. Voices had lessened, footsteps were scarcer, and the staff had begun tidying nearby tables. The evening’s warmth lingered, yet it felt gentler now. The party had concluded. What followed seemed more intimate, more personal.

Aubrelle tilted her head a touch via Pipin’s vision and remarked, "They’ll be closing soon. We still have classes tomorrow."

Trafalgar gazed at her. "Can we go to Mayla’s house for a moment? There’s something I need to tell you."

Aubrelle hesitated briefly.

She’d already sensed the change in him. This wasn’t a offhand remark to postpone. Whatever it concerned carried real gravity.

Nevertheless, she nodded. "Of course."

Trafalgar nodded once.

The pleasant segment of the night had ended.

Now arrived the moment he’d resolved not to dodge anymore.

Shortly afterward, the quartet strolled through Velkaris’s northern district.

Even during those late hours, the capital refused to hush completely. Street lamps glowed steadily, carriages rumbled by occasionally, and folks navigated the darkness clad in lavish coats, tailored gowns, gleaming boots, and sparkling jewels that flashed with each head turn. Vendors shuttered late, aristocrats headed home from banquets, and attendants followed closely behind their lords. Various races mingled seamlessly along the avenues as usual. Velkaris never truly rested. It merely shifted its rhythm.

Trafalgar proceeded with Aubrelle and Mayla close beside him, Rhosyn trailing a short distance behind.

Before long, Trafalgar extended an arm and shrugged his shoulder gently. Next, his hand reached for his hair. He combed his fingers through it once and tsked softly to himself.

Mayla spotted it first. "What is it?"

"It’s longer than I like," Trafalgar replied. He pinched a lock between his fingers and eyed it with clear displeasure. "Can you cut it for me later? I don’t feel like going to class tomorrow looking like this."

Mayla gave a soft smile. "Of course. We can fix it once we’re back."

Next to him, Aubrelle turned her head slightly through Pipin’s sight. "It suits you like that too."

Trafalgar shot her a look. "It’s not bad. It just takes effort every morning. I’d rather have it shorter."

Mayla’s smile grew a tad warmer. "So that’s the real problem. Laziness."

"I prefer efficiency."

"That sounds nicer."

"It is nicer."

Aubrelle chuckled lightly at that, the sound blending seamlessly among them.

The exchange was straightforward, nearly everyday, the sort that arises effortlessly among those who’ve carved out space for each other in their routines. That quality made it feel oddly comforting and peculiar at once. For brief moments, they were merely four individuals wandering the night, chatting about haircuts, lessons, and the day ahead.

A few paces back, Rhosyn remained silent.

Her focus drifted back to Trafalgar and Aubrelle several times before moving forward again.

It would simplify everything once Aubrelle learned the truth.

She’d realized that days earlier. Interactions with Mayla went smoother since she grasped the enigmas encircling Trafalgar, the realities defying normal reasoning. Aubrelle lingered beyond that boundary. Not due to Trafalgar’s choice, but because the right time hadn’t arrived yet.

This evening, it finally had.

Rhosyn’s fingers clenched briefly at her side, then relaxed.

She genuinely hoped Aubrelle would handle it gracefully. She truly did. She admired her. She valued her significance to Trafalgar. By now, she’d witnessed plenty to recognize the girl’s strength.

Yet if she couldn’t bear the secret, if terror transformed her into a threat, then action would be necessary.

And should that arise, Rhosyn would handle it personally, sparing Trafalgar from soiling his own hands.

Soon, Mayla’s home loomed into view. Moments later, they entered.

The shift hit instantly. Velkaris’s clamor remained outdoors alongside the darkness, rolling carriages, far-off chatter, glowing lamps, and street bustle. Inside, all seemed more compact, more tranquil. Comfortingly familiar.

They removed their shoes one after another by the doorway.

Mayla spoke first upon entering. "Make yourselves comfortable."

Her straightforward tone shifted the atmosphere more than the surroundings. This wasn’t some eatery, gala, or temporary venue. It belonged to her. A haven where no one needed to fret over decorum or facades before settling in.

Trafalgar regarded her and stated, "Sorry. I know you wanted to talk to me."

Mayla glanced his way.

"We can talk while you cut it," he continued. "That should be fine."

A subtle smile crossed her lips. "That works for me."

He nodded briefly and ventured deeper in.

The space felt cozy, well-used, neat yet relaxed. Aubrelle and Rhosyn settled first as Pipin floated silently around before perching where he could view everyone. Mayla stepped away momentarily to fetch her tools, and upon her return, the area had slipped into a gentle hush born when the outer world ceased intruding.

Trafalgar sat down.

Mayla positioned herself behind him with easy assurance, her fingers sifting through his hair to assess lightly, gauging the length to trim prior to wielding the scissors.

No one uttered a word initially. The quiet wasn’t void. It carried the weight of anticipation for something momentous.

Aubrelle sensed it as well.

Via Pipin’s sight, her eyes shifted from Trafalgar to Mayla, then Rhosyn. Their expressions held something newly apparent to her—not from poor concealment, but because she hadn’t recognized the signs before. Tonight, it was unmistakable.

They were already aware.

Maybe not the full picture, but sufficient.

Sufficient to show that the impending revelation involved more than just her and Trafalgar. Mayla shared in it. Rhosyn as well. That awareness furrowed Aubrelle’s brow faintly, not quite pain, but honest bewilderment. For the first time, she brushed against a secret previously kept from her.

Then Trafalgar turned to her.

"Aubrelle," he said, voice subdued now. "There’s something I need to tell you."

And as Mayla’s hands rested gently in his hair with Rhosyn poised in quiet readiness, Aubrelle realized the forthcoming words would alter far beyond the night’s remainder.