"So the Second Prince won’t be attending the ball this year? Isn’t attendance mandatory for the royal family?"

"The Second Prince’s absence is one thing, but Count Leon Bening also chose not to attend this year’s event. He hasn’t missed a single New Year’s Ball until now."

"They’ve both sent representatives in their place, but what’s the point if they’re not here themselves?"

"Word is that the Second Prince is unwell, and the count stayed back to look after him."

The nobles in attendance could not hide their unease. The representatives sent in place of the prince and count were silent throughout the ball, merely observing the nobles dancing and socializing, without engaging in conversation. They accepted greetings with a mere wave, refusing to approach anyone directly.

"What could be happening…?"

The shrewder nobles sensed that a significant upheaval was imminent in the royal palace. They only hoped that whatever storm was brewing would spare this ballroom tonight, choosing to keep a low profile.

"Still, with His Majesty present, it’s unlikely they’d do anything drastic."

"Be cautious nonetheless. One word from them could determine our fates, as we well know."

While some nobles worried for their necks, others saw it as an opportune moment. Those who had lost favor under Leon Bening’s rule took this chance to approach the king’s inner circle. With the count and the prince absent, it was the perfect time for them to switch allegiances.

"People are truly fickle creatures," Princess Michelle murmured. Louis could only nod in agreement. As she said, people were opportunistic. The smile she wore when greeting the nobles faded.

"And because of that fickleness, we can use them," said a deep voice as a tall man approached the First Prince and Princess. Bowing slightly, Count Ray Agon, a powerful noble from the east, joined their conversation.

"And if their fickle nature serves us, we should not hesitate to exploit it, no matter how distasteful it may seem. That’s the role of a true leader."

Count Agon’s presence, with his silver-streaked, ash-colored hair pulled back, carried an air of authority that caused the surrounding nobles to drift away from the prince and princess.

Michelle let out a relieved sigh and greeted the count.

"Thank you for coming all the way from the east, Count. Did you come straight from seeing His Majesty?"

The count laughed heartily.

"Yes, and he was in high spirits. My attendants had the harder time traveling than I did, Your Highness."

Count Agon’s presence added a new pressure on the nobles. Though not as powerful as Leon Bening’s faction, he held considerable influence and was a staunch supporter of the First Princess, a fact the nobles could not ignore.

"You’ve sent excellent people to us, Count. Thanks to them, we made it through the martial tournament unscathed."

"I may be an old fool, but those who serve me are dedicated. They can fully realize their potential in the service of one as wise as you, Your Highness."

Laughing, Count Agon’s gaze drifted toward Marion, who diligently kept the nobles at bay from the princess.

"Still, I was surprised when Marion offered to serve as your aide."

Michelle smiled, shaking her head as if to dismiss his concern.

"Marion has been an immense help. There’s no need to worry about her."

Count Agon raised an eyebrow, stroking his bearded chin with a nod.

"She worked hard while with us, and I am grateful for your care of her."

"She has the kind of personality that draws affection wherever she goes."

Count Agon’s previously worried expression softened.

"Your Highness, you seem troubled," he said to Prince Louis, who let out a weary sigh.

"How could I not be troubled, Count? This tournament is only the beginning of the tribulations yet to come."

"Are you concerned about the Second Prince, Your Highness?" Count Agon’s tone was firm, almost scolding.

"It would be a lie to say otherwise. I still can’t fully think of Kyle as an enemy."

The count opened his mouth to say more, but Michelle intervened, halting him. He blinked, realizing his slip and bowing his head.

"Forgive me. I spoke too hastily in my old age."

"How could I misunderstand your loyalty, Count? It’s my own weakness at fault."

Louis’s eyes glistened under the chandelier light as Michelle held his hand. He sighed, squeezing her hand.

"It will be alright."

Nervousness filled the air, as delicate as champagne spilling over the edge of a tilted glass. While the chandeliers cast a warm glow, lengthening shadows crept from behind, hinting at an impending storm.

"Michelle, if I…"

"Please, don’t say any more."

Louis exhaled a long sigh, meeting his sister’s gaze. The secret they shared with the king was a ticking time bomb, gradually tightening its hold around their necks.

"Let’s not speak of ‘what if,’ please."

Louis struggled, then nodded. Defeat brings anger, but a fragile victory stirs anxiety. He forced himself to ignore the voices whispering in his mind. The end of the ball was approaching, and Louis glanced over at his father seated at the banquet table.

Father, a man as enigmatic as their enemy, Leon Bening. Neither Louis nor Michelle could truly read the king, though they had never spoken this out loud.

"Does His Majesty wish for us to be divided?"

Michelle quietly asked Count Agon.

"Only His Majesty knows his true intentions."

No one could say whether the king’s maneuvers were to secure his throne, reset the succession line, or merely cover up past missteps, blind to anything but his own path forward.

No one knew for certain.

"Would you like to dance?"

The tournament’s runner-up, Theodora Bening, stared absently at the noble who had offered his hand. He stood awkwardly, his hand still extended, oblivious to the fact that Theodora hadn’t even registered his presence.

To most nobles, Theodora was one of the most difficult people to approach at the ball. As the daughter of Leon Bening and captain of the Crow Knights under the Second Prince, her allegiance was firmly established. Anyone daring to show personal interest would only court disaster.

Not merely a flower on a cliff but a blazing flame, her allure was captivating. Yet moths were drawn to the flame, heedless of their inevitable fate.

"My lady?"

The noble, who addressed her with an unusual formality, shook his head in frustration when Theodora remained unresponsive. One by one, those who had initially attempted to approach her grew weary and gave up.

"How can someone sit so still?"

"Perhaps losing the tournament affected her. Truly a paragon of knighthood."

Admiration, rather than criticism, flowed freely. The ladies regarded her not with envy, but with trepidation.

Theodora paid no attention to the nobles. Her mind was sifting through the remnants of a whirlwind that had recently subsided.

The final match felt like a fleeting dream. Maxime was alive. She wasn’t sure if he had been searching for her. After all, she was the one at fault.

But he lived. Whatever curse her father had used to ruin him no longer affected him. She sighed, taking a sip of champagne.

Our time won’t come again, will it?

Her gaze drifted to those surrounding Maxime. Christine Watson, who had been by his side long before Theodora even joined the Crow Knights. And the First Guard knights. Surrounded by them, Maxime wore a ring on his fourth finger set with a blue gem.

The timid girl who had once been his fiancée was now a captivating lady, dancing with him, drawing all eyes in the ballroom.

He seemed happy. Theodora watched Maxime conversing, smiling reluctantly. If she had never met him, if Leon Bening’s schemes had not ensnared him, would he have lived peacefully like this?

She wanted to approach him, to talk about their tangled past.

But not now.

Theodora couldn’t push past the tangled thread of their history. She had no place among those who now shared Maxime’s laughter. It felt like watching a play from the audience. I want to blame you, but I can’t.

She set her glass down. She didn’t want to drink or get drunk, as alcohol only brought back memories of that isolated place. She recalled how he had walked away from her, leaving her weeping by the door.

Why had she acted that way back then?

A sudden flush warmed her face. After the king’s departure, the nobles began leaving one by one. She had hoped to exchange a few words with Maxime tonight, but no opportunity arose.

There was still time.

Reassuring herself, she left the ballroom, ignoring the lingering glances of nobles. Theodora wrapped herself in her coat. Though there was no breeze, the chill tonight was the coldest of the season. She shivered slightly, walking through the garden behind the ballroom.

"It’s a bit brisk," she murmured.

Only an hour remained until midnight on New Year’s Eve. The city was lively, excited for the upcoming fireworks. In contrast, the garden was deserted.

She sat on a bench beside an unremarkable tree with drooping branches. This beautiful dress didn’t suit her, she thought, lifting her hem—a blue gown adorned with dark accents, chosen with help from Rione to show Maxime. Smiling bitterly, she touched the fabric.

"I wanted to show you."

She had wanted to ask teasingly if he liked it, as she would have in the past. She already knew his answer but wanted to hear it from him again.

"This is almost funny."

She closed her eyes, the earthy scent of soil carried on the light breeze. The alcohol buzz faded, and she exhaled deeply. She didn’t plan to stay and watch the fireworks. Rising, she opened her eyes—and froze.

A man dressed in black evening wear with golden embroidery stood before her. Bathed in moonlight, his golden eyes met hers, and his auburn hair swayed gently in the breeze.

"Hello," he said.

Unconsciously, Theodora’s lips curved into a faint smile as she replied.

"Hello."