Chapter : 641

Laxmi sat cross-legged on the large living room rug. She tossed a tiny orange spark of fire between her fingers. She laughed a loud, happy laugh.

"You look like a fancy waiter, Ken!" Laxmi joked. She pointed at his bow tie. "If you carry a silver tray, people will definitely ask you for drinks. You can serve us punch at the party."

"I am not serving anyone," Ken pouted. He crossed his arms over his chest. "I am a professional slacker. Serving drinks requires walking. Walking in these tight pants is a massive hazard. If I bend my knees, these pants will rip in half. It will be a total fashion disaster."

Sayma sat at the long wooden dining table. She pushed her thick glasses up the bridge of her nose. She looked at Ken from head to toe. She held her neat notebook. She clicked her pen.

"The tailoring is mathematically perfect, Ken," Sayma noted politely. She offered a calm smile. "The fabric is designed for formal posture. It forces you to stand up straight. Your usual slouching habit is why the clothes feel restrictive. Just keep your back straight."

"Standing up straight burns too many calories," Ken argued casually. He tried to slouch again. The stiff jacket instantly dug into his underarms. He groaned and stood up straight. "This is a massive violation of my personal lifestyle. I am being forced into an unnatural shape."

Zinia stood near the large glass window. The strong earth mage cracked her knuckles. She chuckled a deep, booming chuckle. "You look fine, kid. You actually look like a proper gentleman for once. Just do not spill any food on that white shirt."

"That is an impossible request, Zinia," Ken stated flawlessly. He uncrossed his arms. "I am going to a party with a giant buffet table. Spilling food is an absolute certainty. I am a magnet for crumbs."

Luna lay flat on the long wooden bench against the wall. The lightning user rubbed her sleepy eyes. A knitted blanket covered her shoulders. She let out a massive, dramatic yawn.

"Fancy clothes are the worst," Luna mumbled lazily. She closed her eyes again. "They do not stretch. You cannot curl up into a ball. I hate formal dresses. They are too itchy. I just want to wear my pajamas to the gala."

"I agree with Luna," Ken cheered. He pointed a finger at the sleeping girl. "Luna understands true logic. Pajamas are the ultimate form of clothing. We should all wear sweatpants tonight. The other nobles will be jealous of our supreme comfort."

Ira stood perfectly still by the doorway. Her pale face showed zero emotion. She wore a pristine, dark blue formal dress. She stared blankly at Ken.

"Statistically speaking, wearing sleepwear to a premier diplomatic event results in immediate social ostracization," Ira stated in her robotic, deadpan voice. "It reduces our political credibility by ninety-nine percent. The tuxedo is a mandatory social requirement."

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"Social requirements are a scam," Ken mumbled. He buried his hands toward his pants pockets.

He tried to slide his hands into the pockets. His hands stopped halfway down. The pockets on the tuxedo pants were shallow. They were stitched tightly to the sides.

Ken gasped. His sleepy dark eyes widened in pure, unfiltered panic. He looked down at his hips. He pulled his hands out. He tried to shove them into the pockets again. The pockets refused to open any further.

"No," Ken whispered in sheer horror. He looked up at Naomi. "No. This cannot be real. This is an nightmare."

Naomi tilted her head. She looked slightly confused. "What is wrong now, Ken?"

"The pockets!" Ken yelled loudly. He waved his hands frantically at his pants. "The pockets are fake! They are just tiny slits! I cannot fit my hands inside them! How am I supposed to carry my snacks?!"

Risa sat on the floor near Laxmi. The sweet pink-haired healer hugged her stuffed teddy bear tightly. She giggled a soft, musical giggle. She wore a beautiful, light pink formal dress. "You can carry your snacks in a little bag, Ken. I have a small purse you can borrow."

"I do not want a purse, Risa!" Ken complained playfully. He grabbed his own hair in fake distress. "I need deep pockets! If a bad guy attacks us at the party, I need to reach into my pocket and pull out a potato chip to distract him! Potato chips are my primary defensive tools! This tuxedo leaves me unarmed!"

Naomi burst into a bright, genuine laugh. She gently grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands away from his hair. She smoothed his lapels one more time. Her green eyes shone with warm affection.

"You do not need to carry snacks tonight, slacker," Naomi said. "The 1st Prince is hosting a massive banquet. There will be huge tables filled with free food. You can eat as much as you want. You do not need to smuggle potato chips in your pants."

"You can never trust a rich guy's buffet," Ken reasoned lazily. He lowered his arms. "The food is always too small. They serve tiny crackers with weird green paste on them. They serve cheese cut into little triangles. I need massive portions. I need a whole pizza."

"There will not be pizza," Sayma corrected politely. "It is a highly sophisticated gala. They will serve roasted meats, delicate pastries, and imported fruit."

"Pastries?" Ken asked. His dark eyes lit up just a tiny bit. "Will there be chocolate cake?"

"There will be an entire table dedicated to desserts," Princess Iris answered smoothly.

The violet-eyed royal walked out of the strategy room. Princess Iris looked breathtaking. She wore a stunning, flowing silver evening gown. The fabric shimmered like moonlight on a quiet ocean. Her silver hair fell perfectly over her shoulders. She did not carry her rapier today. She looked like a true, confident ruler.

Ken looked at the Princess. He sagged his shoulders, instantly forgetting the stiff jacket.

"Okay," Ken conceded happily. "If there is a massive chocolate cake, I will tolerate this itchy collar. But I am claiming a plate immediately. I will guard the dessert table with my life."

Princess Iris smiled a gentle, graceful smile. She walked into the center of the living room. She looked at her chaotic, wonderful team. They all wore their formal attire. Laxmi wore a vibrant orange dress. Zinia wore a tailored dark green suit. Naomi wore a sleek, fierce red dress. Sayma wore an elegant blue gown.

They looked different from their usual combat-ready selves. They looked polished and refined.

But the mood in the room felt a little sad to Ken. He liked their usual, days. He liked lounging on the sofa in his sweatpants. He liked eating instant noodles while Laxmi tossed fireballs and Naomi cooked lunch.