They Hated Me in My First Life, But Now I Have the Love System
Chapter 162 - 162 Display

Chapter 162: Display Chapter 162: Display And then there was the fact that she had been adopted at six.

That was all he had, her dance, her adoption.

Nothing else.

Their faces weren’t even that similar, though he knew better than to rely on that.

A woman’s face could change countless times before she even reached adulthood.

A DNA test.

That was an option.

But wasn’t that going too far for something he wasn’t even sure of?

And besides, he couldn’t do it without her permission.

Arthur exhaled sharply and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

He needed more proof.

And he was going to get it!

But Arthur’s mind refused to rest.

His thoughts drifted back to when Nnenna danced on stage, how confident she looked, how effortlessly she moved.

His heart had nearly leaped out of his chest watching her.

She danced exactly like his best friend had.

Back then, as a child, she would perform in front of them without hesitation, eager for their praises.

She was never shy, never uncertain.

Was he losing his mind?

Maybe he was just projecting, seeing what he wanted to see.

Then again… He would see her again tomorrow.

He would observe her more.

By the end of this grand ball, he should have his answer.

With that final thought, he exhaled, forcing himself to shut his eyes.

It took a while, but eventually, sleep came.

In Carl’s room.

He leaned back against the headboard of his bed, arms crossed, his usual playful smirk nowhere in sight.

Arthur’s words replayed in his mind.

What exactly was he thinking?

There was no way, no way, Arthur, of all people, was developing feelings for a sixteen year old girl.

My own little sister?

Carl scoffed under his breath.

He must be joking.

He exhaled sharply, tapping his fingers against his arm.

‘I’ll watch how this plays out over the next few days… and if necessary, I’ll put an end to whatever this is before it gets out of hand.’ — Across the palace, in Somto’s room, the atmosphere was tense.

He stood by the window, arms folded, staring out into the night.

The ball had barely begun, yet a storm was already brewing.

He had to act.

Pulling out a sleek black phone, he dialed a number.

The call was answered on the very first ring.

“General,” Somto spoke, his voice calm but firm.

A deep voice responded from the other end, “The wind is picking up.” Somto’s eyes darkened.

“Handle it.” “Yes, sir.” The line went dead.

The next morning, the palace was alive with anticipation.

Everyone woke up early, knowing that today was one of the most important days of the Grand Ball.

There was no room for slacking.

Dressed in their finest riding clothes and protective gear, the participants gathered at the training grounds, their horses groomed to perfection.

Unlike the previous day, where laughter and smiles had filled the air, today carried a different energy.

The tension was thick.

Yesterday had been for show, diplomatic, polite, all about appearances.

But today?

Today was a battle.

Everyone had something to prove.

With two of the most powerful princes watching, Arthur and Carl, no one wanted to appear weak.

Kingdoms that sought alliances or recognition were determined to showcase their strength.

There were smiles, yes, but they were forced.

Behind every handshake and nod was an unspoken promise, I will not lose to you.

The competition was about to begin.

The first activity was a royal display of horses.

No one expected to win against Roxurun, as their horses were renowned across the lands.

However, that did not stop the other kingdoms from showcasing their finest breeds.

The first kingdom to present was Lionara.

Excitement buzzed through the crowd as they turned their attention to the track’s entrance, expecting the first prince to appear.

After all, it was tradition for the highest ranking male heir to present the kingdom’s horses.

But when the rider emerged, the audience was stunned.

It wasn’t the first prince.

It was Princess Ebere.

Gasps and murmurs filled the air.

She rode a magnificent golden stallion, its coat gleaming like molten sunlight beneath the morning rays.

Its muscles flexed powerfully with every step, its mane and tail flowing like liquid silk.

The beast was strong, regal, and undeniably of the finest royal bloodline.

But as breathtaking as the horse was, it was the rider who stole the show.

Ebere sat atop the stallion with effortless grace, her back straight, head held high, exuding absolute confidence.

She wore a fitted royal riding outfit, embroidered with the insignia of Lionara.

The sleek fabric hugged her slender frame, emphasizing both her authority and striking beauty.

She rode not with mere skill but with the intent to captivate.

Every movement was deliberate, controlled, an unmistakable display of dominance.

The way she held the reins, the slight smirk on her lips, the sharp glint in her eyes, this was more than just a presentation.

This was a statement.

The audience whispered among themselves.

“Wasn’t the first prince supposed to be the one showcasing the royal horses?” “After what happened yesterday, she must be trying to reclaim her reputation.” “Well… she certainly knows how to turn heads.” No one dared question her openly.

But one thing was clear, Ebere was determined to remind everyone that she was still the most honored princess of Lionara.

And with the way she carried herself, Queen Chioma felt she just might succeed.

Things were going according to plan.

The next kingdom to present was Haran.

Unlike Lionara, which prided itself on grace and tradition, Haran was known for its strength and resilience.

Their horses were just as noble, but bred for endurance and power rather than mere beauty.

As the gates opened, a towering black stallion emerged, its coat as dark as the night sky, absorbing the sunlight rather than reflecting it.

Its muscles rippled beneath its sleek hide, each step exuding raw strength and discipline.

The horse moved with a controlled power, its hooves striking the ground with precision, a testament to its rigorous training.

CREATORS’ THOUGHTS JedidiahBeaufoy Your gift is the motivation for my creation.

Give me more motivation!