[To my dear Cedric,

Ern has eaten all the fig jam you gave me. I meant to save it to savor it little by little while thinking of you but that fool Ernst Hardy couldn’t resist.

The Mirabel Palace garden, where we once sat together, is still the same. The air has turned slightly cooler, yet Mother’s beloved silver asters remain as beautiful as ever, just like your eyes that day.

I’m surrounded by kind people, as always. And yet… I can’t quite hide this quiet loneliness.

You were here for barely half a month, Cedric, but your absence feels far greater than the time you spent with us.

There was no jam left to eat while thinking of you, and that made me sad, but the scent lingering in the empty jar is still sweet and strong. Before it fades completely, I send you this letter, praying to the goddess that we might meet again.

If you can, please send a reply, even a short one. I will treasure it dearly.

With all the longing in my heart,
Anita Hardyde.]

··· ✦ ···

A servant stood nervously before his superior.

The chief attendant of the Crown Prince’s palace had not slept properly for days due to the sudden tragedy, and he pressed his fingers against his brow and motioned for the servant to speak.

“Your Excellency, Princess Callithea of Hardyde has sent a letter addressed to His Highness the Crown Prince. Shall I deliver it to him?”

The servant hesitated, holding out the envelope. The letter shimmered faintly with a golden hue and felt as soft as silk to the touch. In the centre of the seal was the emblem of the Goddess Asteria: a radiant sun and the sword of her guardian.

“What? And you think this is the time to bring that up?”

“But, sir, it bears the Hardyde imperial seal. We can’t simply destroy it… nor can we safely deliver it to His Majesty.”

Yet within the Palace of Laxion, and especially in the Crown Prince’s residence, that sacred emblem was something that should never be seen.

Fully aware of the danger, the attendant swallowed his anger and gave a low command.

“Just keep it somewhere out of sight. There’s no need to destroy it, nor to tell anyone.”

Relieved not to be scolded further, the servant bowed deeply and hurried away. The chief attendant’s gaze lingered briefly on the departing letter, then he sighed and clicked his tongue.

‘The girl can’t possibly understand…’

It was a letter that nobody wanted.

The noble young girl’s heartfelt words, full of excitement and affection, were consigned to a forgotten pile of documents in the dusty corner of the Crown Prince’s study.

There was no reply.

··· ✦ ···

The sky was impossibly clear, as if announcing a blessed day. Pretty clouds floated in the blue sky and the young leaves of the trees below shimmered in the sunlight.

The weather was almost too perfect. It was hard to believe that only a month earlier, light snow had fallen. The day was mild, and a gentle breeze rippled through the silks and ribbons hanging everywhere, softly swaying the rare early roses adorning the palace.

The palace itself was a spectacle, draped in blossom and banners, but the hall in which the ceremony was to be held outshone it all, dazzling even the most world-weary noble.

Dozens of magnificent chandeliers gleamed above, their intricate craftsmanship reflecting the soft light of countless candles that bathed the hall in a warm, golden glow.

The marble pillars and walls were adorned with gold leaf, and the vaulted ceiling was painted with such vivid artistry that the figures in the mural seemed ready to step out of it.

At the center of it all stood the goddess of beauty, veiled in silver and smiling at the handsome youth she had chosen. His rose-colored cheeks and faintly blushing smile were shrouded in mystery and allure.

However, it was not the painting that drew every gaze that day, but the couple standing at the front of the grand hall: the bride and groom who would become one.

They were a sight fit for the gods themselves. Wearing white silk and lace, the bride embodied the divine grace of her homeland. Princess Anita of Callithea looked radiant, her beauty both dazzling and serene. Beneath her diamond-studded veil, her pale platinum hair shone, and beneath that were features so delicate that they could have been carved by the heavens themselves. Whenever she lifted her long lashes to reveal the soft blue of her eyes, the guests fell utterly silent, as if enchanted.

Yet the groom standing before her was no less striking. He possessed a beauty that drew every woman’s gaze: refined, graceful, and coldly elegant. Beneath his jet-black hair, his silver eyes gleamed with quiet sharpness and held a depth that compelled one to look again.

Dressed in a dark ceremonial coat adorned with gold epaulettes, a blue satin cord and a diamond cravat, he stood in perfect contrast to the radiant bride: black and white; dusk and dawn; harmony through difference.

‘Cedric…’

Perhaps because she had once again found herself captivated by her future husband, Anita, who had travelled for three long months from her distant homeland, kept glancing up at him. Hidden beneath the veil, her face was flushed pink.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Her heart thundered in her ears like a drum. Although no one else could see it, she was trembling slightly; caught between the thrill of seeing Cedric again and the nervous awe of becoming his wife.

‘…Thank goodness for the proxy wedding. Otherwise, I might have embarrassed myself completely.’

The marriage between Anita and Cedric represented more than just a personal union. It was the fulfilment of an ancient pact — a political alliance between Callithea and Laxion. To symbolize this union, Anita had already held a ceremonial wedding in her homeland without the groom.

Nevertheless, she was still nervous. She was grateful for the rehearsal that had prepared her for this moment.

‘Cedric seems so composed. Not like me at all. But then… he always was.’

Hiding her trembling fingers beneath her lace gloves, Anita stole another sidelong glance at Cedric. In contrast, Cedric appeared utterly unshaken: his posture was steady and his expression calm.

Then, as if he had sensed her gaze, he looked back at her and smiled faintly.

‘Ah…’

Anita lowered her head, hiding beneath the lace of her veil. She was worried that her flushed cheeks might be visible. Noticing her shyness, Cedric averted his gaze with quiet tact, letting his eyes drift elsewhere. Yet, for the briefest of moments, a glint touched his face, cold as forged steel and as sharp as a silvered blade.

“With this, Cedric Fion and Anita Hardyde are hereby…”

The priest’s solemn voice echoed through the grand hall. The long, gilded, sacred ceremony was finally drawing to a close.

As the declaration ended, Anita found herself clenching her hands tightly without realising it. Perhaps noticing the excitement on the young bride’s face, the priest paused for a moment, his lips curving faintly.

In that brief silence, she could feel every pair of eyes on her. Anita bit her lower lip, unable to look up at Cedric.

“…are bound in marriage before the Goddess.”

The priest’s words were final and absolute, like a decree. For a moment, Anita could neither breathe nor move. She was frozen to the spot, as though her entire being had been bound by invisible threads.

Before she could gather her thoughts, Cedric stepped forward without hesitation. Reaching out, he gently cradled her face in his hands.

‘Ah…’

His touch against her skin was unexpectedly warm. Her eyes widened in surprise and her breath caught.

Cedric was unfazed by her reaction, however, and slowly and deliberately lowered his head towards hers.

Finally, in front of everyone who had gathered, the two of them sealed their vows with a kiss.

Applause thundered through the hall, mingling with cheers of delight. Petals rained down like snow, filling the air with fragrance.

Despite her nerves, the bride was radiant, and the groom was poised and gentle as he guided her. The scene was so beautiful and dreamlike that one could almost wish to never wake from it.

Yet the bride, rigid as marble, felt no warmth, only a chill. In that kiss, which should have been hot and sweet, she instead felt the cold, thin touch of a crystal glass filled with ice. A faint tremor ran through her shoulders.

··· ✦ ···

The union between Laxion and Callithea was an alliance sealed in both word and blood.

The Emperor of Callithea, the bride’s elder brother, sent his cousin, Count Yuz, to represent him at the wedding. He greeted the groom and entrusted his beloved sister to his care, presenting him with a sword inlaid with sixty-four gemstones.

In return, the Emperor of Laxion gave the bride a magnificent necklace featuring a pink diamond surrounded by rubies and pearls to bless their future.

“In all my lifetime, I shall never again witness a day as joyous as this. To the bride and groom! To Laxion and Callithea!”

Nobles from every corner of the two empires raised their glasses in celebration. Delighted by the harmony of the occasion, the Laxion Emperor announced that the festivities would continue for fifteen days.

Servants hurried to and fro, carrying delicacies from both nations. Sumptuous dishes were followed by an endless parade of sweets and confectionery that dazzled the eyes and tempted the palate. Beyond the banquet tables, musicians played and couples in vibrant attire held hands and danced to the lilting rhythm.

Even amid the laughter and music, decorum was maintained, and the atmosphere remained refined yet warm — providing the perfect setting in which to honor the union of the noble pair.

But even moments of celebration must yield to change.

By the time the moon began its descent, whispers began to ripple through the hall. Although the banquet had been planned to last until dawn, discreet glances and hushed conversations suggested that something — or someone — was missing.

“His Highness the Crown Prince has vanished without a trace. Not even his shadow remains. It’s safe to assume he’s no longer here.”

“And the bride left her seat long ago. She must be running quite late, then.”

What did it mean that the newlyweds were absent from their own celebration? The nobles’ whispers grew bolder behind their fluttering fans.

“I saw the new princess trembling like a wet fledgling earlier. I wonder how she’ll fare tonight. Having come all the way from Callithea, of all places, she must know little of such pleasures.”

“Ah, but have you not heard? They say that Callithean women may appear demure, but their skills rival those of the women of old Rassus Isle. Some even claim that it was that very indulgence that led their kingdom to ruin. Who’s to say the princess herself isn’t—”

“Ahem! That’s quite enough. You’d do well to keep your mouth shut. This concerns the Crown Prince himself.”

The laughter died down, but the smirks remained. Behind the glitter of the chandeliers, rumour and curiosity intertwined like a quiet, poisonous waltz.

Were it not for the restraint of those still clinging to decorum, several of the guests, emboldened by drink and curiosity, would have gone too far. Some of the gossiping nobles, sensing the disapproving looks of the royalists, sobered up quickly and fell silent.

Even so, though words were silenced, thoughts were not. Those who had warned others to mind their tongues found themselves secretly wondering about the newlyweds and what their wedding night might bring. Beneath that quiet, unspoken fascination, the night deepened.

··· ✦ ···

“Oh, goddess…”

Sitting on the edge of a grand bed and bathed in flickering candlelight, Anita clutched at her negligée and found herself whispering an unconscious prayer.

She had only ever learnt the things written in books and whispered in hushed lessons, and now she felt that this meagre knowledge was woefully insufficient. The gossamer-thin nightdress she wore clung shamelessly to her body.

‘How am I supposed to stand before Cedric dressed like this?’

The weight of her anxiety far outweighed the feather-light garment pressing against her skin. Anita ran her fingers over the fine lace — a fabric so costly and refined that it seemed almost invisible — and, overcome with nerves, she rose abruptly to her feet.

But when she caught sight of her reflection in the soft golden light, her body outlined even more clearly, she startled herself and sank back down again, her heart fluttering wildly.

Marchioness Giron of Callithea, who had once taught young noblewomen about the ways of men and women, had given the same advice time and again: ‘Lie still, and everything will go smoothly.’

She had whispered that all Anita needed to do was follow the Crown Prince’s lead. She had explained in mortifying detail where a man’s hands might wander and how a woman ought to react.

At the time, even hearing about such things was unbearable. But tonight, those whispered lessons were no longer just theory.

Anita’s palms grew damp as she clung tighter to the hem of her thin nightdress.

‘It’s a strong wine,’ she reminded herself, stealing a glance toward the two goblets prepared on the side table. ‘If we share it, the tension will ease. Don’t be nervous. If I get too tense, I might make a mistake.’

Her chest rose and fell unevenly as she pressed a trembling hand over her heart and forced herself to breathe slowly. Beneath her calm exterior, fear lurked, but so did anticipation. After all, tonight was the night she had been waiting for.

‘Cedric…’

It wasn’t hard to picture him; she had done so countless times before. A shy, almost wistful, smile touched her lips as she recalled the man she had dreamed of marrying. How could she not feel happy? To be with the man she admired and see their imagined future made real — what woman wouldn’t?

Still, worry crept in behind the joy like a shadow.

‘Why did Cedric look so cold earlier? Was it because of me, or because of Callithea? Or does he already love someone else? I heard rumors about a duchess’s daughter he’s quite close to…’

Anita balled her hand into a fist. The memory of his distant gaze during the ceremony stung. But she quickly shook her head and whispered under her breath, as though scolding herself.

‘No, stop it! Don’t think such foolish things. Even if he does have someone, I can’t let it show. I came here for Callithea and my people. My own happiness and feelings are secondary.’

She had barely managed to calm down when her ears pricked up and she heard something unusual.

A sound.

Her body stiffened. It did not come from the bedchamber itself, but from the adjoining sitting room — a private antechamber intended for the couple’s use.

‘What was that?’

When she realized this, her heart lurched. It was time. The moment she had both feared and anticipated had arrived.

But before she could fully process the mixture of dread and anticipation, Anita frowned. Something was wrong.

She could hear several pairs of footsteps, not just one.

‘No… too many.’

The footsteps grew louder, bold and unhurried. Whoever they were, they were making no effort to hide their presence.

‘Three? No… more than that.’

Her breath caught in her throat. Instinct took over before reason could. Anita slipped under the bedcovers and pulled the blankets up to her chin. There was no time to pull the canopy curtains down — the bed was too exposed. She curled up tightly beneath the sheets and forced herself to stay still.

Then—

Clatter.

The door handle turned.

This happened just after she had slipped beneath the covers.

Without so much as a knock, the bedchamber door burst open. The heavy oak double doors swung wide with a deafening crash.

Light from the corridor spilled into the dim room, cutting a long, narrow path across the floor straight to the bed at its center.

Anita’s breath caught. Her eyes flew wide as she stared towards the intruders, her pulse roaring in her ears.

Then she saw a face.

She knew the place all too well because she had pictured it countless times. Yet she had not seen it with her own eyes in over five years. The only person who should have been allowed in this room tonight was Cedric.

Her heart lurched painfully. The man she had been waiting for, filled with trembling anticipation, had finally arrived. She should have felt joy. Relief.

Instead, however, cold terror seeped through her veins.

Anita pulled the blanket up over her throat and up to her face, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

Something was terribly wrong. Terribly wrong.

The man standing before her was not alone.

On this night that was supposed to be sacred and secret, when no one else should have crossed the threshold, there were five shadows in the doorway..