The carriage rocked gently as it rolled along the cobblestone road, heading toward the Imperial Palace. Outside, guards rode in silent formation, their polished armor catching the late-morning sun. Inside, Kaelen sat across from Aria, watching her more carefully than he let on.
"You're too quiet," he said, breaking the silence.
Aria shifted; eyes still fixed on the scenery passing by. "I'm thinking."
Kaelen leaned forward; his voice low. "Whoever it is, they didn't expect you to survive. That celebration was supposed to mark your introduction to the Empire. Instead, it nearly became your funeral."
She looked up at him then. "Do you think it's someone from the court?"
He hesitated, then shook his head. "No. If it were someone from the family, they wouldn't have made it that messy. Poison at a public event? That's desperation, not strategy."
Aria turned her gaze to the floor. Kaelen watched her a moment longer, then added gently, "Your mother wants answers. We all do."
As the gates of the Imperial Palace opened, a sudden whisper tickled the edge of Aria's mind.
[Y.G. WHISPER: You shouldn't be here. Too many eyes. Too much noise.]
She ignored him.
[Y.G.: Fine. Get yourself stabbed. Again.]
The war chamber was smaller than the throne room but no less imposing. Tall stained-glass windows filtered light over a long table of dark mahogany. Already seated were the heads of the Empire's great houses.
Duchess Selene Althaea, Aria's mother, stood at the head of the table, cloaked in black and silver. Her expression was unreadable, but her violet eyes pinned the gathered nobles like daggers.
To her left sat Crown Prince Liam, his posture straight, eyes wary. Next to him, the Duke of the North—Theodore, Selene's brother—twirled a wine glass with too much ease, though his stare flicked often to Aria.
Kaelen guided Aria to a seat beside him.
"Let's begin," Selene said.
"Any updates?" Emperor Caisson finally asked, voice heavy with authority. The father of Selene and grandfather to Aria, he commanded attention even in stillness.
"The poison," Theodore began, " A kind that's only been seen on the Southern Border."
Kaelen's jaw tightened. "The war with the Southern Border just ended. We purged every channel of infiltration. If someone's using their methods… they slipped past us."
A beat of silence passed.
Selene broke it. "Then they weren't after Aria."
Heads turned.
"I was meant to sit where she did," Selene said coolly. "She was never supposed to be in that seat during the celebration. If that poison was placed ahead of time…" She trailed off, eyes narrowing. "They were aiming for me."
Aria's heart skipped. She looked up at her mother. Selene didn't meet her eyes.
"As life of future heir of the duchy in danger," Selene continued, "I'll reopen the internal investigations myself. This wasn't random."
"I agree," said Caisson. "But there's something else. The aura Aria awakened… it hasn't been seen since the age of the First Mage."
"I've already contacted the Tower Master," Caisson added. "He'll arrive in the capital soon to verify the aura's origin."
The room fell quiet again. Heads nodded in cautious agreement.
Even after returning to the duchy, everything felt… wrong.
Too clean. Too polished. Too quiet.
The maids moved with practiced grace, their heads lowered, eyes avoiding hers as if she were royalty—or something far more dangerous. They never spoke unless spoken to. One tried to brush her hair in silence, hands trembling slightly.
The knights at the gates bowed too deeply, one even dropping to a knee.
In her past life, Aria had lived in a cramped apartment, grabbing convenience store meals after overtime shifts. Now? Her morning began with three maids waiting outside her door, trays of breakfast she couldn't pronounce, and a bath that could fit her old living room.
It was suffocating.
Even the walls seemed to whisper: You don't belong here.
But the strangest difference… was her parents.
Her mother, Selene—elegant, composed, and terrifying—never raised her voice. She didn't have to. One glance from those frostbitten eyes was enough to silence a room. She often watched Aria too long, too quietly, as if trying to solve a puzzle that shouldn't exist.
Then there was Kaelen.
Her father.
He was the opposite. All warmth and unspoken affection. He offered her his hand when they walked. He adjusted her cloak without comment. At dinner, he never stopped watching her—like she might disappear again if he blinked.
It was almost enough to make her forget—
[SYSTEM NOTICE: Don't trust anyone.]
Aria froze.
The translucent golden words hovered in the air like a ghost, glitching faintly at the edges.
[SYSTEM NOTICE: Even those who love you might be blind to your death.]
"Can you shut up for five minutes?" she muttered under her breath, earning a confused glance from a maid.
Then the letter came.
Dear Aria,
I heard the news. I'm so happy you're safe and well.
Do you remember the upcoming ball at Count Everen's estate?
If you're still unwell, please don't force yourself to attend.
Oh—and Icarus will be there too. It's been so long since we last saw him.
I hope we meet again soon. But your health comes first, always.
Take care and rest well.
Yours, Lily.
Aria sighed, folding the letter slowly.
Lily… one of the few people in this world who truly felt real. Sweet, gentle, and painfully loyal. Her childhood friend—and someone who, in the game, played a crucial role in several branching storylines.
And Icarus.
She didn't even want to think about him.
Her stomach twisted at the name. That black-haired golden boy who charmed the nobles with smiles and burned everything behind them.
But this ball—she remembered it. Vividly.
Wasn't this the one where everything started to unravel?
Where blood was spilled?
She tightened her grip on the letter. "Then I have to go."
But the moment passed. No warning. No sarcastic system messages. No floating text.
Just silence.
It made her uneasy.
Why aren't you stopping me this time, Y.G.?