All My Summons Become Divine Girls

The Patriarch stepped away from the crowded center of the ballroom, taking a crystal glass of wine from a passing servant.

He didn’t take a sip right away, just gripping the thin stem of the glass while his dark eyes stared into the red liquid. The polite smiles and easy laughter of the nobles around him felt completely suffocating.

’The King played me perfectly,’ he thought, feeling a tight knot of anger twisting in his chest. ’He forced me to either acknowledge the boy or look like a fool in front of the entire court.’

Before he could calm his racing thoughts, hurried footsteps approached from his left side.

"Father," a sharp voice called out.

He looked over and saw his eldest son, the same representative who had been standing beside Kenny during the council meeting, marching straight toward him. The younger man’s face was flushed red with anger and panic.

"What were you thinking?" his son whispered harshly, stopping right next to him and keeping his voice down so the nearby nobles wouldn’t hear.

"Why did you push the King like that in front of everyone? I know it is Hajin, but causing a scene like that makes us look incredibly unstable."

The Patriarch didn’t answer immediately, taking a slow sip of his wine while he looked at his son with flat, unimpressed eyes.

"And besides," his son continued, his voice shaking slightly while he glanced back toward the grand staircase. "Was that really him? The pathetic, no-mana failure we threw out? Because the Hajin standing up there feels like someone completely different. He is a registered ranker and now he has the King’s personal backing."

The son ran a hand through his hair, looking completely lost.

"How did he even survive out there?" he asked, turning back to his father. "And how did he get so strong?"

The Patriarch let out a quiet, tired exhale, feeling his annoyance spike at his son’s panicked rambling.

"You are so incredibly slow to catch on," he said, his voice dropping into a cold whisper that made his son flinch. "His current strength doesn’t matter, and neither does how he survived."

His son blinked, opening his mouth to argue, but the Patriarch cut him off.

"What matters is the timing," he continued, leaning slightly closer. "When I saw him walk into the throne room with the Princess that day, I immediately contacted the assassin Great Family. The contract has already been paid for."

His son’s eyes widened in sudden realization, "You hired assassins?"

"Of course I did," the Patriarch replied, gripping his glass tighter. "I ordered them to eliminate him quietly before he could cause any problems for us. It was the logical move, but I did not expect the King to publicly claim him as a royal sponsee tonight."

His son still looked confused, "But isn’t that a good thing? If the assassins kill him now, the problem goes away permanently. We won’t have to worry about him exposing us."

The Patriarch closed his eyes for a second, wondering how his heir could be this politically blind.

"Think about it for more than one second," he said, opening his eyes and glaring at him. "Hajin is now the King’s official, public sponsee. If the King’s chosen talent is murdered right after being announced, it will make the Crown look weak and completely incompetent."

He took another sip of wine to wet his dry throat.

"And if the Crown looks weak, the Great Houses suffer," he explained, watching his son’s face slowly turn pale as the reality of the situation finally sank in. "Our authority is tied directly to the throne’s stability. A blow to the King’s reputation is a blow to all of us."

His son swallowed hard, looking back toward the crowd.

"It gets worse," the Patriarch added, his voice turning even colder. "Because of the scene I just made questioning his worth in front of the entire court, who do you think everyone will immediately suspect when he turns up dead?"

"Us," his son whispered, his hands starting to shake.

"Exactly," the Patriarch said, turning his gaze back to the ballroom where nobles were still gossiping about the event. "We just handed the King a perfect excuse to investigate the Flint family. If they tie the assassins back to us, it will be treason."

He didn’t want to admit it, but he had walked right into a massive trap and locked the door behind himself.

Before his son could reply, the younger man’s eyes flicked past his shoulder. His expression instantly shifted from fear to pure confusion.

"Uriel?" The son whispered.

The Patriarch frowned, turning his head to follow his son’s gaze.

Across the ballroom, his youngest daughter was pushing her way through the crowd. Her face was stained with tears and her eyes were completely red. She looked entirely reckless, walking in a direct line straight toward where Hajin was standing with the Princess.

Several nobles were already turning their heads, watching the crying girl with growing interest.

"We have a problem," his son said, a new wave of panic hitting his voice.

"Dammit," the Patriarch hissed, realizing exactly what was about to happen. "What is she thinking? Go get her, right now!"

His son immediately stepped forward, but the distance across the crowded ballroom was too far.

"Hajin, you jerk!" Uriel shouted.

The orchestra faltered and stopped. The entire ballroom went dead silent in less than a second, every single noble freezing in place as their attention snapped toward the crying girl.

Hajin, who was standing quietly next to Didi, stopped talking mid-sentence.

He turned his head slowly, finding his sister standing a few feet away. She glared at him with red, swollen eyes and took a deep breath, preparing to speak again in front of the silent court.

’Crap,’ he thought, feeling a cold sweat break out on his forehead.

"Juna," he said quietly, not taking his eyes off Uriel.

"How could you do this to your-" Uriel started to scream, pointing an accusatory finger at him but she didn’t get to finish the sentence as Juna moved instantly.

Before Uriel could form another word, Juna appeared right behind her, clamping a hand firmly over Uriel’s mouth.

"Mmph?!" Uriel squeaked, her eyes going wide with shock.

Juna wrapped her other arm around Uriel’s waist, picking the struggling girl up off the floor and carrying her directly toward Hajin.

"Done, Master," Juna replied calmly, ignoring the fact that she was currently carrying a struggling noble across the ballroom.

Hajin let out a long breath, wiping the sweat from his forehead while Uriel kept kicking her legs in the air, trying to break free from Juna’s grip.

"Is that your little sister?" Didi asked, stepping a little closer with an amused smile on her face.

"Unfortunately," he muttered, watching Juna casually readjust her grip on the struggling girl.

Didi let out a quiet, genuine laugh, finding the entire chaotic display incredibly funny.

"It’s not funny," he said, giving Didi a flat look. "If she had actually finished that sentence, this would have been an absolute disaster."

The entire ballroom watched the strange scene unfold with complete confusion. They had expected a dramatic confrontation, but what they got instead was Juna aggressively carrying a crying noble away.

Slowly, the tension in the room began to break. The orchestra awkwardly started playing again, and the nobles turned back to their conversations, dismissing the outburst as just another piece of strange drama.

Across the room, the Patriarch’s son let out a massive exhale, leaning against a marble pillar as the relief washed over him.

If Uriel had exposed their connection to Hajin in front of everyone, the Flint family would have been ruined.

"That was too close," his son whispered, pressing a hand against his chest.

But his relief didn’t last long.

He noticed a sudden change in the atmosphere near the entrance. The casual chatter of the nearby nobles dropped into excited, nervous whispers.

"They’re actually here," a duke muttered, stepping out of the way.

"All three of them at the same time?" another noble whispered, his voice laced with clear anxiety.

The son turned his head, his eyes widening slightly as he followed the crowd’s gaze toward the entrance.

The top three major houses of the kingdom had just arrived.