The ball was getting closer and closer.
Even from within the manor, the pressure of it could already be felt. Preparations were happening elsewhere, at the Rainbow Palace, but its influence still reached them.
Conversations shifted, gossip was high, schedules tightened, and everything seemed to revolve around that one upcoming event.
And finally, Amethiel’s family stopped pestering him.
Mostly because of the undeniable fact that Amethiel had managed to manipulate them by crying and throwing a tantrum.
That memory lingered in the back of his mind, not unpleasant, but not something he lingered on either.
’Effective,’ he thought simply.
And also, after that day, Amethiel made it a point to show himself to his brothers and his father at least once a day.
Just enough.
Just long enough for them to see him, to reassure them, to keep them satisfied.
Then he would leave again.
So now, everything was at peace.
At least on the surface.
Also, everything with Kree was progressing fully.
It was starting to understand more, respond more appropriately, behave in ways that felt less... instinctive and more deliberate.
It watched him more carefully now.
Reacted faster.
Learned quicker.
To the point that it was actually starting to get repetitive.
And a little too predictable.
And because of that, it was starting to get a little boring for Amethiel.
Which was why he had begun paying attention to his other existing pets again. Not out of interest, but out of maintenance.
A responsibility he had neglected for far too long.
"Kree, today, as you can see, we’re in a different room."
Amethiel’s voice echoed lightly across the large, empty ballroom.
They stood in the manor’s grand ballroom, wide and polished, the high ceilings making even the smallest sound carry.
Light filtered in through the tall windows, casting soft reflections across the floor.
The room was empty.
Since it was only him and the creature.
He had initially asked his brothers if they wanted to watch.
An attempt to make it seem like he was being more open, more cooperative.
A little more like a normal being, instead of a genius.
But Amethiel already knew they wouldn’t come.
They were busy today.
Very busy.
Of course, they had appreciated the gesture.
They always did appreciate any signs of humans in Amethiel.
Not knowing he had played them again.
’Having me as a brother must be so exhausting,’ Amethiel thought, the hint of sarcasm curling quietly in his mind as he looked up at Kree.
Kree stood in the middle of the ballroom, still and towering, its gaze fixed entirely on him.
It was watching.
Waiting for its master.
"I am going to teach you the best way to show refinement, intelligence, and class in high society."
Amethiel slowly extended his hand toward Kree without a thought.
And Kree... flinched.
It was small.
But it was there.
A subtle recoil, a slight hesitation in its movement, like something instinctive had taken over for just a second.
’Oh?’
Amethiel’s lips curved slightly, a smirk forming almost immediately.
’From being clingy... to flinching just by holding out my hand?’
That shift.
That reaction.
It fed something in him.
A quiet, satisfied kind of pride.
That was a massive ego boost to Amethiel, who was still, more or less, angry for what the monster had done to him.
And now—
Now it was learning.
Amethiel let his hand linger in the air for a moment longer before slowly lowering it, his gaze still fixed on Kree, studying that reaction, replaying it in his mind.
’Good.’
He didn’t rush past it. He let it settle, let it sink into him, the way Kree had flinched. The way it hesitated.
Then, just as easily, he let it go.
He turned slightly, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve as if nothing of importance had just happened. Like that moment hadn’t meant anything at all.
"We’ll be moving on from basic commands today," he said, his tone returning to that calm, instructive cadence he always used on Kree. "You’ve learned enough to follow. Now, you will learn how to present yourself."
Kree didn’t respond.
But then again, when did it respond to anything besides what Amethiel had taught it?
It didn’t question.
Didn’t interrupt.
It only existed within the limits Amethiel gave it.
Amethiel glanced at it once, briefly. "I am going to teach you how to dance."
He let the words sit in the air, as if that alone should be enough.
"Dancing is a conversation of nobles during the ball," he continued, walking past Kree, his footsteps echoing softly across the polished floor. "It is not just movement. It shows intention." His voice remained steady, almost detached. "And as I’ve said, it shows class."
He turned back toward Kree.
"You will learn it."
"O...kay?"
The word came out uneven. Careful. Like Kree was placing it exactly where it was supposed to go.
Amethiel smiled.
A small one.
"Good job, you used the word correctly."
It wasn’t warmth.
Not quite.
But it was still praise.
And despite how often Amethiel punished Kree, he still understood the importance of that. Of giving something back when it was earned.
’Reinforcement works better than fear alone,’ he thought, though there was a faint edge of amusement behind it.
Amethiel moved closer to Kree, his steps measured, his attention already shifting back into that focused, almost clinical state.
"Watch," he said.
But before he moved, his eyes sharpened slightly.
"And before I forget, if you show any signs of being unruly..." his voice dropped, quieter now, but carrying something far heavier, far colder, "I will punish you."
The words landed immediately.
Kree stilled completely.
There was no hesitation this time.
No confusion.
It was understood that.
It was one of the few words Kree had learned quickly. Faster than anything else.
Punishment.
Amethiel saw it in the subtle tension of its body. In the way, its shoulders locked just slightly. In the way its tail, which usually moved without thought, went completely still.
’This is good. This is very good.’
The thought came with quiet satisfaction.
Because this meant Kree was becoming exactly what he wanted it to be.
’Okay, we should really start before my brothers suddenly decide to show up.’
The thought passed quickly through Amethiel’s mind, sharp and practical.
He didn’t want interruptions.
Not now. Not when things were finally progressing the way he wanted.
Without another word, Amethiel stepped even closer to Kree.
He adjusted his posture first. Straightened his back. Lifted his chin slightly.
There was a subtle shift in him, almost immediate, like he had stepped into a role he knew by heart.
Then he raised one hand, the other hovering where a partner’s would be, and took a step.
He moved as if someone was there with him, as if there was an invisible partner in his grasp.
His steps were precise, practiced, each turn smooth.
His hand shifted as if guiding, his body angling with intention, every movement deliberate.
There was no hesitation in him.
No awkwardness.
Only refinement.
’All those lessons paid off even though I never planned to dance with anyone, even to save a life.’
And as he moved, he began to hum softly.
A tune that filled the empty ballroom just enough to guide the rhythm, the sound echoing faintly against the high ceilings, wrapping around the silence instead of breaking it.
Kree watched.
Focused entirely on him.
Amethiel didn’t look at him.
Not once.
He simply continued, completing the sequence before stopping, letting the silence settle again, like the end of something that should have been applauded.
Then he turned his head slightly. "Now you."
There was no encouragement in his voice.
Only expectation.
Kree moved.
At first, it was slow. Almost hesitant. Its large frame shifted awkwardly as it tried to mirror what it had seen, its limbs moving with too much force, too little control.
It didn’t know how to hold itself yet, didn’t understand how to carry its own size.
Its tail dragged slightly behind it, throwing off its balance.
It took a step.
Then another.
And then it nearly stumbled.
Its body tilted forward, one foot catching too late, its tail swinging sharply to compensate, the movement clumsy and unrefined.
Amethiel’s eyes flicked to it for a brief second.
’Clumsy,’ he thought, unimpressed.
Kree looked up at him, its expression uncertain, almost fragile in a way that didn’t match its form. "M-Master..."
"Keep going."
The command was immediate.
Kree didn’t argue.
It corrected its stance, forcing its body upright again, steadying itself before trying once more.
This time, slower.
More careful.
It lifted its arm again, mimicking the exact position Amethiel had shown. Its posture shifted, straighter now, less uncontrolled.
Its movements were still rough, but there was something else there now.
There was focus.
It stepped again.
And this time, it didn’t stumble.
It tripped and fell completely, face-first, on the floor.
The sound echoed louder than it should have.
"Agh..." Kree groaned, its voice low, strained from the impact.
But Amethiel didn’t react.
Not immediately.
He just stood there, looking down at it, his expression unreadable.
"It seems you have a hard time on your own," Amethiel says, hovering above Kree, his shadow falling over it as it slowly lifts its head to look at him.
"M-Master..." it whimpered.
There was fear in it.
It was afraid it was about to get punished.
And Amethiel almost wanted to punish Kree, just for the fun of it.
But that would be counterproductive.
Instead, Amethiel sighs.
"Get up. If you can’t learn by copying, I can at least try to teach you by being your partner."