After enduring the imperial handmaidens from the moment she woke, Riersha had been scrubbed and primped until she practically gleamed.
She stood awkwardly in an elaborate dress layered with lace upon lace.
All this discomfort just for breakfast.
…I’m already exhausted.
Was this what the imperial family lived every single day?
“Now then, shall we go, Miss Riersha? The Young Duke of Arachrene will be waiting for you outside.”
“Okay!”
Riersha answered brightly. The sheer relief of being freed from the handmaidens’ hands brought a smile to her face without her even trying.
Just then, one of the handmaidens who had been tidying up hurried over.
“Pardon me for a moment. Your ribbon is sitting slightly crooked.”
“Huh?”
“His Majesty is quite particular about such things.”
The handmaiden stepped closer and straightened the ribbon tied beneath Riersha’s chin.
Riersha glanced briefly at the ribbon in the mirror.
To notice something this small — a bow knot that most people would never even register.
She was beginning to understand a little about the Emperor’s nature.
He seemed to be the type of person who noticed, with sharp precision, the very things an ordinary person would overlook entirely.
“There, all done. If you leave now, you won’t be late. What a relief.”
“Pink you.”
“…Not at all.”
The handmaiden quickly smoothed her expression, though for just a moment she had looked flustered by Riersha’s words.
“Sona, I’m heading out now, ’kay.”
“Yes, Miss Riersha.”
Sona smiled warmly and saw her off all the way to the bedroom door.
The moment Riersha stepped out into the hallway, she called for Pernoa.
“Appa!”
Pernoa, dressed in a formal uniform every bit as resplendent as Riersha’s own outfit, turned his head at the sound of her voice. He lifted her up into his arms with practiced ease.
“Are we eating bweakfast with the Emperor?”
“That’s right.”
“…Is it just His Majesty?”
“Most likely.”
The Emperor was a man who kept even his own wife at arm’s length, so that seemed the more probable arrangement.
And besides…
Pernoa glanced back toward the handmaidens still lingering inside Riersha’s room.
The moment word had spread that the Emperor had extended a breakfast invitation, those handmaidens had come flooding in. That alone suggested Karla, at least, had not been invited.
Whoever had offered up this residence and assigned handmaidens to Riersha and Pernoa — that would be the Empress.
Not a single moment to let one’s guard down.
Every word exchanged in these halls would make its way back to the Empress’s ears without fail.
Pernoa gave a quiet, dry smile and deliberately let fall words he knew would rankle Karla.
“His Majesty said he has something rather important to discuss. …I imagine that means those who weren’t invited have no need to know of it.”
“I see.”
Riersha nodded as if she understood.
Whatever important conversation was to take place, she couldn’t help but wonder whether she truly belonged in that room at all.
Meanwhile, through the narrowing gap of the closing door, she caught a glimpse of the handmaidens freezing mid-motion, straining to catch every word.
Pernoa smiled to himself and walked at an unhurried pace toward the dining hall.
Once the corridor had grown quiet enough that no one seemed near, his expression turned grave.
“When we arrive at the meal, do not show any sign of familiarity with Isierd. Not for a moment, Riersha.”
“Why can’t I?”
“You cannot trust a single person within this palace. Not if they treat you kindly. Not if you believe you’ve found an ally. You never know when someone might become your enemy.”
“…But that sounds really lonely.”
Riersha’s face crumpled.
Pernoa’s words were so cold that her fingertips flinched as she listened.
Every person needs someone to lean on.
And yet the imperial palace was a place where there was no one to lean on — and where leaning was itself forbidden.
“For those born within these walls, that is simply the way things are, Riersha.”
“…”
“Siblings gambling their lives against each other for the throne. Doing whatever it takes — by any means necessary — to claim that seat.”
All of it was ordinary here.
Those who lived outside these walls could never truly understand.
Pernoa’s voice came quietly, stripped of its usual warmth.
“Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
“…Yes. I undewstand.”
Without realizing it, Riersha tightened her grip on Pernoa’s shoulder.
She had thought this would be nothing more than a few days’ stay before they returned home.
That wasn’t it at all.
Only now did she understand just how dangerous a place she had come to live in.
A place where countless people gathered, each with their own interests — a place where anything could happen at any time.
That was the imperial palace.
And those born of imperial blood had no choice but to live there for the rest of their lives.
Because it was home.
…Even so, that must be so terribly lonely and hard.
To trust nothing around you. To spend every moment in doubt, and then in doubt again.
Riersha suddenly thought she understood why Pernoa was saying all of this.
“…Appa, you want me to keep my distance from Isierd, don’t you. Because you’re worried I’ll get hurt.”
“Yes. He told me himself that would never happen.”
So the two of them had already spoken — and something had passed between them.
Riersha’s eyes went wide at the thought of what Isierd must have said.
“…Did Isierd really say that?”
“He did.”
Pernoa gave a single nod.
And while that answer hadn’t entirely pleased him, part of him found it difficult to dislike.
“Welcome, Young Duke Arachrene. And the Young Lady of Arachrene.”
When they arrived at the dining hall, a handmaiden stepped forward with a graceful bow.
“His Majesty is waiting.”
Pernoa set Riersha lightly down from his arms.
Riersha looked toward the dining hall and her eyes went round.
There, at the table—
Isierd?
Isierd was already seated.
“How good of you to come despite the sudden invitation — Pernoa, and… Miss Riersha.”
Calius Declair, who had been watching Riersha with an unreadable expression as she stared at Isierd in surprise, was the first to speak.
“I thought Isierd might feel uncomfortable surrounded by adults, so I invited Miss Riersha as well. It seems I was right to do so.”
The eyes of Calius Declair — cool, pale blue behind the face of an indulgent father — glinted with sharp calculation.
Pernoa murmured softly beneath his breath, as though he had expected precisely this. “So it begins.”
He bowed to Calius with the full grace of ceremony, drawing a careful, deliberate line.
“I am grateful that Your Majesty extended this invitation to my child as well. I hope this occasion will bring her a measure of ease during our time here.”
“Ha, children make fast friends, don’t they? Sit, sit.”
As Calius Declair gestured them toward their seats, Pernoa smiled pleasantly.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
And so the strangest of breakfasts began.
⁂
CRASH—!!
Adrian, unable to contain his fury, began hurling everything within reach.
The morning had already brought the news that the Emperor had sent someone to Isierd’s residence — and now this.
“He’s having breakfast with that bastard and the Young Duke of Arachrene?!”
Adrian gasped for breath, grinding his teeth.
Everything had turned on its head in the span of a single morning.
I already hate that I have to call him brother!
He could feel the nobles measuring him against Isierd, weighing them on a scale.
The humiliation of it was unbearable.
The very men who had spent years fawning over him, showering him with flattery—
BANG—!
As Adrian began smashing everything in sight, a handmaiden who hadn’t dared enter the room pressed herself against the doorframe, pale with fright.
“P-please, calm yourself, Your Highness the Crown Prince…”
“How am I supposed to calm down?! My mother wasn’t invited to that table either!”
It was obvious. His father was making a move to cast both him and his mother aside.
“…Has there been any word from Her Majesty yet?”
“No, Your Highness. Nothing yet.”
“…Understood.”
How much longer would they be trapped inside this palace, unable to move?
Adrian stared down at the shattered mirror scattered across the floor. Every mirror in the room had already been broken.
Because he could not bear to look at himself.
What had begun as a fleeting change in color — one that faded and returned — had grown longer with each passing occurrence, each episode more frequent than the last.
And in the fragments of those shattered mirrors, the reflection of Adrian showed—
White hair, drained to the root, spreading in uneven patches across his head.
“If this keeps going… if I’m really cast out of the palace, what will I do? The moment Father discovers I’m not his blood…”
He would want him dead.
Adrian swallowed the most terrifying words he knew back down into his throat.
He needed someone. Not his mother — someone who could stand absolutely, unconditionally by his side.
It was then.
“If that’s what you need, I might be able to help.”
A voice came from within the room — a room that should have held no one.
“Hello, Your Highness. We meet again. Oh — though perhaps you were too young back then to remember me.”
