"Your Highness, it’s ti for your entrance."
"Just a mont."
At the call, Anna steadied herself and lifted her gaze to the mirror.
Heavier makeup than usual.
An elaborate dress layered with embroidery and jewels.
Accessories that looked beautiful—but felt suffocating.
Everything about it irritated her.
"...Sigh."
While adjusting the gloves at her wrists, Anna let out a quiet breath.
What am I even doing?
There was too much unfinished business.
Bane still hadn’t been captured.
Several suspicious groups were continuing to move in the shadows throughout the capital.
The aftermath of the riot hadn’t settled, no matter what the official reports claid.
And yet—
Here she was, preparing to attend a banquet as if nothing were wrong.
She understood the significance, of course. Today’s party was held in celebration of His Majesty’s birthday. A symbolic event ant to reassure the Empire that everything was under control.
But still... couldn’t it have been postponed? Even just a few days?
"We’re ready, Your Highness."
Anna straightened at the head maid’s voice.
"...Very well."
The mont she gave her answer, the doors to the banquet hall slowly swung open.
"The glory of the Empire, the great heir to the Imperial Family—Lady Anna Blackwood is now entering!"
Beautiful music had been playing monts before.
But the instant her na was announced, the sound vanished completely.
Silence swept through the hall.
Then—
Hundreds of gazes turned toward her all at once.
Admiration.
Jealousy.
Curiosity.
Barely concealed desire.
Anna felt them like a physical weight pressing against her skin.
She kept her expression calm, her posture perfect, and stepped forward.
One step.
Then another.
Her heels echoed softly against the marble floor as she walked toward the center of the hall, each movent precise and graceful—exactly as she had been taught since childhood.
A princess does not falter under scrutiny.
As she advanced, nobles parted naturally to make way for her. So bowed deeply.
Others offered practiced smiles, their eyes calculating.
She returned their gestures with a polite nod, never lingering too long on any one face.
They’re watching for weakness, she thought. Or reassurance.
Probably both.
When she reached the center of the hall, the music slowly resud, softer than before, as if careful not to overpower her presence.
Anna paused briefly, then turned with practiced elegance, allowing everyone a clear view.
A man stepped forward, cutting off her path.
"It’s been a while, Your Highness. You’re as beautiful as ever."
He wore a gentle smile, his dark blue hair neatly combed, his posture refined in a way that scread noble upbringing. Anna recognized him imdiately.
Bernir.
The na surfaced from the depths of her mory without effort. The eldest son of a prestigious northern noble house—one that prided itself on loyalty, strength, and ambition.
"...Thank you for the complint," Anna replied, her voice smooth and polite.
Outwardly, Bernir appeared courteous, even charming. But Anna caught it—the brief, careless flick of his gaze as it traveled over her, lingering far too long.
It was subtle. Practiced.
But she knew that look all too well.
Eyes clouded with desire.
Not affection. Not admiration.
Possession.
To him, she wasn’t a person. She was a prize. A stepping stone. A beautiful ornant that ca with a crown attached.
If he could claim her, he could reach for the throne itself.
Disgust twisted in her stomach.
Being subjected to that kind of gaze again—after so long—made bile rise in her throat. It was suffocating, sticky, as if invisible hands were crawling over her skin.
This was precisely why she had fled to the Academy.
Here, she was supposed to be free. Free from calculated smiles, from marriage proposals disguised as courtesy, from n who looked at her and saw nothing but political value wrapped in silk and flesh.
She forced her lips into a practiced smile, hiding her revulsion behind flawless composure.
Then, unexpectedly, soone else ca to mind.
Louis.
His face surfaced without effort, clear and untainted. The way he spoke to her without ulterior motives. The way his gaze never lingered where it shouldn’t. The way he treated her not as royalty, not as a symbol—but simply as Anna.
When she was with Louis...
She didn’t feel dirty.
She didn’t feel like an object being appraised.
She could breathe.
The thought softened sothing tight in her chest, and for a brief mont, the noise of the world around her faded.
Compared to the suffocating stares and honeyed words of n like Bernir, Louis felt like a quiet place—steady, honest, and real.
But.....
The only person who had ever looked at her without seeing the Imperial Princess first—
but simply Anna.
They hadn’t even been in the sa year at the Academy, yet whenever she was with him, she felt at ease. With him, she didn’t need to asure every word or posture herself behind flawless etiquette. She didn’t need to carry the weight of her title.
She could just exist.
Not as royalty.
Not as a symbol.
But as a person.
I wonder where he is now...
The thought surfaced quietly, uninvited.
When she was with him, she didn’t have to endure the constant gazes—those eyes filled with reverence, fear, or expectation. She wouldn’t have needed to wear these stiff, suffocating clothes either, layers upon layers ant to remind everyone who she was supposed to be.
Lost in that mory, the present mont began to feel unbearably dull.
Then—
"Louis...?"
The na slipped from her lips before she even realized it.
Through the tall window of the corridor, she caught a glimpse of a passing silhouette. Just for a second. But it was enough.
That profile—sharp yet familiar.
And that steel helt.
She would never forget it.
Her heart skipped.
"We’re holding a party at our estate next month, and we’d be honored if you—Your Highness?"
Bernir’s voice trailed off mid-sentence.
Anna didn’t respond.
She rose from her seat abruptly, chair scraping softly against the floor, and moved as if drawn by an invisible thread.
Ignoring Bernir’s confused expression, ignoring the attendants who called out to her, she stepped into the hallway and turned the corner where the figure had vanished.
Her pace quickened.
It can’t be...
And yet—
Her chest tightened with a feeling she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in a long ti. Hope.
She reached the end of the corridor and stopped, breath slightly uneven, eyes scanning the passing students and knights.
The crowd flowed on as if nothing had happened.
No steel helt.
No familiar silhouette.
Just people.
For a mont, she stood there in silence, her fingers slowly curling into her sleeve.
"...I must be imagining things," she whispered.
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