There was no need to refuse. She had planned to dance with anyone who asked anyway. Baroness Karen, of course, took the glass from Robellia’s hand, as if anticipating her decision.

The order wasn’t important, was it? For a moment she hesitated. But as Robellia made up her mind and moved to place her fingertips on the man’s outstretched palm, a commotion near the entrance caught her attention.

“Please present your invitation first.” 

“You must meet the dress code to enter.” 

“Sir, you must at least surrender your weapon…” 

Could it be a late arrival? The voices of excited servants echoed, and Robellia’s eyes naturally turned to the commotion. The man standing before her spoke.

“There seems to be someone rather rude among the invited guests.”

While the stranger seemed unperturbed, Robellia was not so quick to dismiss the unusual situation. The murmurs around her grew louder. This was no casual gathering – this was a banquet in the Imperial Palace. Considering that the individual had made it past the gates and into the hall, her identity couldn’t have been in doubt.

Robellia took a small step forward, intending to get a closer look at what was going on. But then she saw Raves moving quickly towards the source of the disturbance. That made sense. No one in their right mind would cause a real disturbance at a banquet hosted by the Crown Prince. There was no reason for her, the princess, to intervene.

Just then, the music stopped. Robellia turned her gaze back to the man in front of her, who was completely unperturbed. He held out his hand again.

“Robellia─!”

At the unfamiliar voice calling her name, Robellia’s head snapped around. The man who had just danced with her was clenching his lower lip, clearly annoyed at losing her attention once again.

Robellia looked around, trying to find the one who had called her. The crowd that had gathered blocked her view, making it difficult to see anyone. The only ones in this world who would call her name so familiarly were her father and brother, but it was certainly not either of their voices.

Then a glimpse of silver hair flashed through the crowd. Impossible. It couldn’t be. It might have been a trick of the eye, and while silver hair was rare, it wasn’t exclusive to the Roxas family. Still, like someone under a spell, Robellia found herself moving hesitantly towards the entrance, as if drawn by an unseen force.

“Your Highness.”

Came the voice of the man who had asked her to dance, but his words couldn’t stop her.

Robellia’s steps quickened. Pushing through the crowd, almost running, she reached the entrance and saw Raves standing with his back to her.

“Brother…”

Robellia’s lips, hastily parted to inquire about the situation, failed to form words and slowly closed again. Instead, her violet eyes widened as if to check the reality before her. Blink. Blink. No matter how many times she closed and reopened her eyes, the scene remained the same.

When Raves saw Robellia approaching, she let out a long sigh. But for Robellia, who was already half-dazed, no sound reached her ears.

The tall man took off a shabby, cumbersome cloak and handed it to a servant. The bright lights illuminating the hall caught the shimmering silver hair on his head. A long sword, presumably his own, was now held by another servant.

No. I shouldn’t hope. Robellia felt as if her breath, even her heartbeat, had stopped. Her small feet, which had carried her here so eagerly, now retreated as if in retreat.

But the man, two spans taller than her, took a single step forward, closing the gap in an instant. He looked at her with a curious expression before the faintest of smiles lifted the corners of his mouth.

“Hello, Robellia.”

The greeting was so familiar, so natural, that Robellia found herself speechless. Beside her, Raves shook his head disapprovingly, clearly dissatisfied. Realising that his casual tone had been inappropriate, the man – Akan – quickly corrected himself, biting his lower lip.

“My apologies. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.”

Even as she stood before him, even as she saw his face and heard his voice, Robellia still couldn’t bring herself to believe it was real.

I must be dreaming as I stand here. I’ve dreamed this moment so many times, I must be imagining it again. Robellia blinked slowly, her body frozen.

Seeing her unwelcoming and distant behaviour, Akan, looking slightly nervous, rubbed the corner of his mouth, a small nervous gesture.

The delicate softness of his features had sharpened into a strikingly defined appearance, but it was impossible not to recognise him. Sight, sound, even the faintest scent were too vivid to dismiss as a dream. Robellia’s lips parted, trembling slightly.

“Akan…”

At last, Akan’s eyes curved into a warm smile. But Robellia’s face remained pale, as if she had seen a ghost rather than an old friend.

Akan held out his hand as if inviting her to dance, only to look down at his own dirty gloves and quickly pull them away. His shabby attire was far from befitting a guest at such a grand banquet.

Robellia stood frozen to the floor, watching the scene unfold. She was barely aware of the curious looks and murmurs from the crowd around her.

Why now? Why here? Just when she had finally decided to let go.

The vague promises of the past seemed meaningless now. And those promises had long since been broken. Instead of joy, resentment came to the fore.

“Why… now… here…”

Instead of answering, Akan swept his eyes around the room. The onlookers, who had been watching openly, quickly averted their eyes, though their ears remained alert to every word.

This time, Akan held out his bare hand to Robellia, his expression calm and unwavering.

“Your hand.”

Robellia clenched her fists. This was the moment she had dreamed of, but it had come just as she had carefully sealed her heart. She didn’t want to offer it so easily again, only to be hurt as she had been at twelve.

“No…”

“There are too many ears.”

Akan murmured, gesturing subtly with his eyes at the people around them. 

Only then did Robellia look around. Madam Suther glared at the crowd of onlookers, trying to disperse them, but they didn’t move. 

How could anyone leave such a fascinating scene? The star of the evening, the princess, and a scruffy, uninvited young man who had suddenly appeared – it was a spectacle too interesting to ignore.

Raves, looking exasperated, signalled to the orchestra. The musicians, who had been lazily playing a half-hearted tune, quickly changed to a proper dance tune.

“Please.”

Right. It wasn’t about the dance, it was just an excuse to talk. Her brother wouldn’t put much stock in a single dance with Akan Roxas.

After a long hesitation, Robellia finally placed her fingertips lightly on Akan’s palm. A gentle smile spread across his face as he gently guided her hand.

Akan led Robellia to the centre of the hall. It was the first dance of the evening for the princess, the star of the banquet. Everyone stepped back discreetly to clear the floor for her.

Robellia had so many questions. How had he been? More specifically, where had he been all this time, and what had he been doing? Her lips itched to ask, but when she met Akan’s lowered gaze, she found herself unable to speak, as if her tongue had turned to stone.

All those gruelling dance lessons had finally paid off. Despite the tempest inside her, Robellia’s feet moved fluidly to the rhythm of the music, at least fluidly enough to avoid arousing the suspicion of the onlookers.

As the dance spun them apart and then back together, Akan was the first to speak.

“That man earlier…”

“Hmm?”

“You weren’t planning to have your first dance with him, were you?”

So it really had been Akan who had called her name earlier. What baffled Robellia even more was the tone of his question – asked as if the answer was obvious. She raised her chin arrogantly and replied, 

“And what if I had?” 

What did it matter to him? Robellia’s reply was deliberately sharp, meant to annoy him. If she could make him feel even a fraction of the emotions she had endured all this time, it would be justified. 

But Akan didn’t react as she had expected. He didn’t frown or complain. Instead, he gave her a complicated smile – a bitter expression that made the viewer uncomfortable.