I AM A MAGE BUT WITH MILF SYSTEM

“By the way,” she said, glancing up at him with a mischievous smile, “you can call me Alina.”

Julian turned his head slightly to meet her gaze, his own eyes glinting with appreciation.

“Alina…” he repeated slowly. “What a fine name,” he added with a smirk. “Just like you.”

Alina flushed but didn’t shy away. If anything, she walked even closer, her hips brushing his lightly as they moved.

As they neared the table, all eyes shifted toward them—some curious, others wary. Alina beamed brightly, her energy drawing the attention of everyone instantly.

“Hey everyone!” She chirped, her voice cheerful and full of charm. “Meet my new friend. He’s a noble from a nearby viscounty. He’ll be joining us.”

There was a moment of silence as the group sized Julian up. Arya’s gaze lingered a second longer than the others, her expression unreadable.

Vigg looked unimpressed but polite. A few of the noble boys exchanged glances, but it was the girls—especially the one beside Arya—who leaned in with interest.

Julian smiled confidently, bowing slightly at the waist. “A pleasure to be among such distinguished company,” he said smoothly.

Alina gestured to each person at the table. “This is Aryl and Vigg, the marquis’s children,” she said. “And that’s Liora, Nessa, Calen, and Torr—some of my closest friends.”

Vigg gave a nod, his posture straight. “Welcome,” he said coolly, his tone formal but distant.

Clearly, he wasn’t used to strangers suddenly showing up, especially escorted by someone like Aliina—whose boldness always seemed to surprise even those who knew her well.

Aryl, however, tilted her head slightly. Her gaze stayed fixed on Julian, studying him like a puzzle with too many missing pieces.

“A noble from a nearby viscounty, hmm?” she murmured. “You carry yourself like someone more… seasoned.”

Julian’s lips curved, amused by her observation. “Seasons come and go, my lady. But perhaps this one has just begun.”

A small ripple of laughter broke among the group—mostly from the girls.

Alina took the seat beside Julian, leaning slightly toward him. “He’s not just charming,” she said playfully. “He’s interesting. Isn’t that right?”

Julian raised an eyebrow, glancing at her. “You flatter me too much, Alina. But I’ll do my best to keep up with your expectations.”

Nessa giggled, clearly intrigued, while the boys exchanged another round of silent looks. Calen crossed his arms and studied Julian but said nothing. Torr, more relaxed, simply poured himself a drink and leaned back.

Meanwhile, Julian’s eyes lingered on Aryl. Raven-dark hair, piercing dark eyes. Her face was smooth, carrying a cold beauty that didn’t try to charm but still demanded attention.

She wasn’t wearing a smile, and that made her all the more alluring.

Julian leaned back slightly, his gaze unashamed as he studied her. Then, with a faint smirk playing on his lips, he spoke:

“Hm… Lady Aryl,” he said. “If you wore black lipstick, I believe you would have that perfect gothic touch. Mysterious, cold, and absolutely striking. You already have the eyes and the aura for it.”

The table grew quiet for a second. A few eyebrows were raised.

Aryl blinked, surprise crossing her expression. It wasn’t often people spoke to her like that—boldly, without hesitation. Her lips twitched, almost amused.

“Gothic, huh?” She murmured, tilting her head. “I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Julian met her gaze. “You should. Not everyone can pull it off. But you? You’d redefine the look.”

Alina, still clinging to his arm, pouted slightly but said nothing—her eyes darting between Julian and Aryl with a mixture of curiosity and playful annoyance.

Vigg, however, had his fists clenched under the table, the smile on his face a little too stiff. His eyes hadn’t left Julian since he arrived—especially not since Alina introduced him and Aryl’s attention shifted.

Julian’s casual charm, his confident smile, the way Aryl seemed just a bit too intrigued—it all fucked with him.

He watched as Aryl’s lips curled ever so slightly at Julian’s comment. That tiny reaction lit a fire in Vigg’s chest.

Why is she smiling like that? She never looks at anyone like that.

Julian might have come off as just another noble brat, but something about him set Vigg on edge. It wasn’t just jealousy—it was possessiveness. He had always thought Aryl’s smiles were only his to enjoy.

And now some stranger was pulling them out with ease.

“Hmm, Julian, right?” Vigg spoke, his voice tight and edged with barely hidden hostility.

“Since you’re just from a viscounty, maybe learn to hold your tongue when speaking with someone from a higher house. A handsome face like yours might lose all its allure without a tongue, don’t you think?”

The words dropped like a blade on the table. Conversations died mid-sentence. All eyes locked onto the sudden tension.

Alina’s cheerful expression faded. Her brows knit together, and she placed a protective hand on Julian’s arm.

“Vigg!” she snapped, her voice unusually sharp. “That was uncalled for.”

She turned toward Julian, her expression softening as she leaned closer. “Ignore him. He’s just a little too used to everyone kissing his boots.”

Julian simply smiled, calm and unfazed, though a glint of amusement passed through his eyes.

Aryl, however, had enough. Her eyes settled on her brother. “That’s enough, Vigg.” Her voice was soft, but there was weight behind it.

“He was just making conversation. If you can’t handle a few words, maybe you’re the one who should hold your tongue.”

Vigg turned to her, mouth slightly parted in disbelief, but he didn’t respond.

Aryl then looked at Julian and offered a small smile. “Don’t mind him. He’s always been… possessive.”

“It’s okay, Lady Aryl,” Julian said with a calm smile, his voice smooth as ever. “I’m used to things like this happening.”

His tone was polite, even pleasant—but Aryl wasn’t fooled. A strange chill crept down her spine as her eyes lingered on him. The way he held his smile… it was too calm, too practiced.

And then she noticed it—just barely—a faint tremor in his fingers as they rested on the edge of the table.

He was angry.

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