The evening was shaping up to be a complete disaster, though I had to admit, part of it was my own doing. Alira, clearly upset by my earlier interference, was giving both Isla and me a wide berth. She stuck close to her friends, co-workers, and even Jasper, her former betrothed, of all people. It stung, though I couldn’t entirely blame her.

Meanwhile, the king was holding court in his own way, regaling everyone with tales of his glory days as an adventurer. I didn’t mind at first, some of the stories were genuinely entertaining, but the forced laughter every time he paused for effect grew tiresome quickly.

“There were more than a hundred troglodytes, all standing between us and the exit!” the king proclaimed with gusto, his voice booming across the hall.

“A hundred should be no match for you, Your Highness,” someone chimed in obligingly from the crowd. I barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

“They were just the diversion,” the king continued dramatically. “From behind us came a manticore!” He paused, letting the tension build as his audience collectively held their breath. “I charged at the beast, blinding it with a beam of light from my shield. With its eyes useless, I drove my blade into...”

I couldn’t stop myself from tuning out. My gaze wandered back to Alira, catching her looking in my direction. But the moment our eyes met, she turned away sharply. I sighed, dragging my attention back to the king’s tale.

To be fair, it wasn’t all bad. The food was excellent, and so far, I’d managed to avoid upsetting anyone. Well, anyone new. Alira didn’t count, she’d been mad at me long before we arrived. Even the king's son avoided me, which I found worthy of praise to the departed gods.

The evening offered a variety of entertainment, designed to dazzle and distract from the political undercurrents humming just below the surface. Graceful dancers twirled across the floor, while musicians filled the hall with melodies that were more modern than what I initially anticipated.

Songs followed that seem to revolve around classic tales of unrequited love and grand adventures. The grand finale, however, was a small but masterfully performed theatrical play. A very "greek-like tragedy" with the gods interfering in the lives of mortals; at least I couldn't complain about being unrealistic.

Just as I began mentally lamenting the predictability of feasts like this, where no meaningful decisions were made, only appearances maintained, the tone of the room shifted. Conversations dulled, voices lowered, and the air became charged with something unspoken. Maybe, I thought, the posturing was over and the real deals were about to begin.

Isla slipped her arm through mine, steering me gently to the side. Her expression was calm, but her voice dropped to match the hushed tones around us.

“I’ve spoken with my people. It’s done. This will mark the beginning of a new alliance, one that will strengthen both our people.”

“They’re not exactly my people,” I replied, unable to suppress the tinge of detachment in my voice. “But good to know.”

“Unfortunately, urgency is the name of the game.” Her gaze flicked briefly toward Alira, her meaning clear. “We leave tomorrow evening. So…” she paused, her tone light but insistent, “don’t wait too long to patch things up.”

Isla was right, but before I could act on my thoughts of apologizing, the king appeared surprisingly alone.

“We didn’t get a chance to talk tonight,” he began, his tone unusually casual.

“Well, you’re a busy man,” I replied, masking my curiosity with a light shrug.

He chuckled, a surprisingly warm sound. “The stories, yes. Perhaps I went a bit overboard with them.” Then his expression shifted, his demeanor sharpening. “But I wanted to thank you. From what I hear, you’re the reason the elves even came to the table. And we didn’t have to give up much for this alliance, thanks to your agreement to their... mission.”

“Yes,” I admitted, choosing my words carefully. “We leave tomorrow night.” I hesitated but added, “Alliances are crucial in times like these, so it was my pleasure.” A little humility never hurt, after all.

He waved off my modesty with a casual flick of his hand. “You don’t get to be an effective king without rewarding those who deserve it.” His voice dropped slightly, and he stepped closer, his eyes locking onto mine. “I can’t offer you anything publicly, you understand, the ‘offworlder’ situation. But unofficially, I owe you one.”

For the first time, I saw something genuine in him, a glimpse of the man behind the title. Maybe I’d misjudged him. “Thank you,” I said simply, unsure what else to offer.

As soon as he stepped away, the court flocked back to him, their laughter and conversation enveloping him like a well-worn cloak. Yet, as he seamlessly shifted back into his role, I couldn’t shake the thought that it was a mask, and beneath it, he might actually be capable. Perhaps this kingdom had a fighting chance after all.

Not wanting to give anyone else a chance to corner me, I made my way toward Alira. She was deep in conversation with a man who looked like he walked straight out of a spy novel, the grizzled veteran type, his short hair perfectly combed, his posture radiating authority.

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“Hey, sorry if I’m interrupting anything,” I said, directing my words toward Alira. She greeted me with a sharp glare that screamed yes, you are, but her companion’s reaction was entirely different, he seemed almost pleased.

“You must be Tiberius,” he said warmly, extending a hand. “I’m Reynfred.”

So, this is the guy in charge, I thought, shaking his hand. “The boss, I gather?”

His smile widened. “That would be me.”

I leaned in slightly, offering a small grin. “I always pictured spy types avoiding functions like this. You know, observing from the shadows, plotting and all that.”

Reynfred chuckled. “Alira did mention you’ve got quite the imagination,” he replied smoothly. Then, with a glance back at her, he added, “Just think about it,” before stepping away and leaving us alone.

'Think about what?' I wondered, glancing at Alira, who still looked like she’d rather be anywhere else than talking to me. This wasn’t exactly off to a great start.

The silence stretched for a few seconds before she broke it. “If you came just to stare at me, I have better things to do.” Her tone was sharp, and she started to turn away.

“Wait,” I blurted. She paused, barely, and I scrambled for words. “I know what I did was... unfair,” I said, the word sticking in my throat as if even my subconscious knew it didn’t quite cover it.

She turned back, her eyes narrowing. “You’re lucky I have to keep my voice down,” she muttered, her frustration clear. Then, louder, “Unfair? Unbelievable is more like it.”

“I get it,” I said quickly, holding my hands up. “Use whatever adjective you want to describe my behavior, but please, just let me explain my side.”

“Oh, let me guess,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You don’t want to see me hurt. Well, tough luck. I already got hurt. But at least it was my decision.” Her voice rose slightly, anger building with each word. “Stop pretending this is about me and admit it’s about you.”

Her words hit hard because they weren’t wrong. “Maybe it’s both?” I said quietly.

That seemed to take some of the edge off her anger. She folded her arms, waiting.

I took a breath and pushed forward. “Look, we’re up against a possible demi-god. I’ve got an escape spell if things go sideways. You don’t. Let me be the one to figure out how dangerous they really are. I won’t pull anything like this again in the future, promise”.

“I’ll think about it. Too bad...” Alira started, but her words were cut short by a woman approaching us. She looked to be in her thirties, with hair so pale it was nearly white, shimmering even in the dim light.

“The party’s over,” the woman announced briskly, directing her words to Alira. “We just received some sensitive documents from the elves as part of the new alliance.” She hesitated for a moment, then turned her sharp gaze toward me.

“So, you’re the perfect boyfriend. Well, at least until tonight,” she added with a derisive smirk.

Ouch. That was direct. I managed a polite smile, keeping my tone light. “Happens to the best of us,” I said with a small shrug, deflecting the jab.

She tilted her head, not missing a beat. “Just a quick tip, seeing as you’re from another world: nothing says ‘I’m sorry’ like a diamond-enchanted necklace.”

Alira sighed audibly, cutting off whatever reply I might have conjured. “Ignore Lyrelle,” she said, clearly exasperated. “She and I have... very different ideas about how to handle these things.”

“Nice to meet you,” Lyrelle added with a sly smile as she and Alira disappeared out of the room, leaving me standing there, wondering if I’d just been given advice or a warning, or both.

I didn’t stick around long after that. With no clear purpose and Alira busy, I found myself wandering the streets. Home didn’t feel like an option, so I let my feet carry me aimlessly. Some fresh air and time to think couldn’t hurt, right?

As night settled over the city, the shops began to close, their shutters drawn as the streets emptied. The once bustling marketplace quieted, the rare passerby becoming a shadow in the fading light. Turning a corner, my gaze landed on a jewelry shop. Its polished display glimmered like a pocket of starlight, diamonds and gemstones perfectly arranged to dazzle.

Lyrelle’s words nagged at me. Mocking, sure, but it stuck. Apologies weren’t exactly my strength. And as I stared into that display, it hit me—I’d never given Alira anything. Not one gift.

She had, though. Over the past year, she’d given me plenty, starting with the shoes on the very first day we met. And here I was, realizing I hadn’t even tried to match that effort.

Buying one was an option, sure, but I had a better idea. After all, why waste time turning lead into gold when charcoal into diamond was so much easier? well, at least in theory.

Resolute, I headed back to the house. Mast was in his study, engrossed in some thrilling paperwork.

“Hey,” I called, leaning against the doorframe. “You wouldn’t happen to have some charcoal lying around, would you?”

He looked up, eyebrows raised. “Charcoal? What for?”

“Just a little... experiment,” I said, smiling faintly.

“Another one? Sure, How much do you need?” he said with a smile.

“Just a few pieces will do,” I replied.

With the materials in hand, I put some distance between myself and the villa. High temperatures and confined spaces didn’t mix well. I quickly found my way to the remote shack on the outskirts of the city.

Confidence surged as I prepared. My explosive blast spell was perfect for creating the intense pressure required to compress the carbon. All it needed was heat.

I picked the smallest piece of charcoal and began compressing it slowly with my Mana Shield. With my other hand, I cast a basic fire spell, normally used to light fires, but kept the small jet of plasma focused on the charcoal.

Reaching the necessary temperature wasn’t a concern; the real challenge was generating enough pressure. I didn’t remember the exact value required, and even if I did, it wasn’t like I could measure it. Still, I felt confident. Even though my Intelligence stat still read “Calculating,” I was more powerful than ever. During the fight with the god, I’d pushed my Time spell far longer than I thought possible, and now, months later, I could sustain it even further. At least it made some sense why it was still recalculating.

After a few minutes of applying intense heat and pressure, I released the spells. Unfortunately, all I had to show for my efforts was some very hot dust. I wracked my memory and vaguely recalled that the process normally took about a week. Definitely a setback, but magic could fill in the gaps where time couldn’t.

I tried again with a slightly larger piece of charcoal. Compressing it into a glowing sphere, I focused on restructuring the atomic layers into the crystalline pattern of a diamond. Slowly, I sensed a shift in the material, a subtle change that eventually stopped. Further attempts to alter it didn’t work, so I assumed the process was complete.

This time, when I released the spells, the mass didn’t crumble. After letting it cool and rinsing it off, I held up a rough diamond, about the size of a pea. It had a yellowish tint, was irregular in shape, and clearly full of impurities, but it was a diamond. I almost jumped with joy. After the gold fiasco, it was good to see a project actually work.

Not satisfied, I decided to go bigger. Using more charcoal, I first removed the air to minimize impurities. Then I applied heat, pressure, and focused intensely. Hours passed before I felt the transformation was complete.

The result was stunning: a nearly flawless, brilliant white diamond the size of a golf ball.

Of course, I’d get a brilliant idea like this right before I had to leave. Typical.