The carriage door shut behind them with a soft thud, and Count Rohan sank into his seat like a man who had aged twenty years in one afternoon. Aneria climbed in after him, humming like she hadn't just caused palace-level chaos.
The carriage began rolling toward their estate.
Count Rohan stared at her.
She stared at the window.
He continued staring.
She whistled.
Finally—
"Aneria," he said, voice trembling, "my sweet daughter… my precious child… my only hope… what did you do?"
Aneria blinked, eyes big, pure, and offensively innocent.
"Do?"
"Yes. DO. As in—action. Activity. Chaos. Disasters. Did you blow up the garden? Did you fall into the pond? Did you fight someone? Did you climb something?"
Aneria gasped lightly. "Father, please. I am a refined young lady."
"You insult my intelligence," he whispered.
She fixed him with wide, offended eyes.
"I only walked, admired flowers, and talked politely."
Count Rohan grabbed his chest dramatically.
"Aneria. When I turned around after speaking to Sir Darion, you were GONE. When I found you again, the Crown Prince was yelling, Kael looked ready to swear loyalty to you, and there were guards RUNNING!"
Aneria coughed politely into her hand. "Coincidence."
"Coin… coincidence?" he repeated hollowly.
"Yes."
Count Rohan slumped back. "Melissa is going to murder me with a spoon."
Aneria patted his knee in sympathy.
"There, there. You're still alive."
"That doesn't comfort me…"
The carriage jolted gently. Aneria swung her legs back and forth, unbothered.
After a long moment, Count Rohan asked carefully,
"Did you tease the Crown Prince?"
Aneria stared at him.
He stared at her.
She smiled sweetly.
"…Aneria."
She kept smiling.
"Aneria."
Silence.
"Aneria!"
Finally she sighed. "Maybe."
"WHY?! He is the future emperor!"
"He was loud," she said firmly.
Count Rohan covered his face. "Sofia save me…"
"And dramatic," she added.
"STOP TALKING!"
The carriage swayed as the horses trotted faster. Aneria leaned back with a satisfied sigh.
"Father, I behaved."
"You ran away, hid behind a tree, bullied royalty, traumatized an escort knight's son, and stole Kael's entire attention."
Aneria nodded proudly. "See? Normal day."
Count Rohan stared at her for a long moment.
"…I should have tied you to my belt."
Her eyes sparkled. "Hehe."
He gave up.
Completely.
By the time they reached the estate, Count Rohan was whispering to himself,
"I need tea… or wine… or both…"
Aneria gracefully hopped out of the carriage.
"I'm going to my room~"
"You are grounded!" he shouted behind her.
"You can't ground perfection!" she yelled back.
---
Princess of Chaos Writes Her Diary
Aneria locked her room, threw herself dramatically onto her bed, and grabbed her pale-pink diary — the one she always uses.
She opened it, dipped her quill, and began writing with the seriousness of a novelist.
---
Diary of Aneria Rohan — Day 123 of Being Gorgeous
Today I visited the palace to accompany Father. I was extremely bored, so I decided to observe the future male leads.
Prince Aldric:
Red hair like flames. Golden eyes like the sun. Very sparkly.
Very dramatic. Very loud. Acts like royalty even though he is five.
I told him he was loud. He almost combusted. It was funny.
Kael:
Black hair, green eyes. Pretty. Very pretty.
Held a wooden sword like a baby knight.
Quiet, polite, adorable. Looked at me like I handed him a star.
Possible weakness: compliments.
I may have teased the Prince.
I may have made Kael blush.
I may have caused small chaos.
But overall, I was elegant.
…Father disagrees.
---
She paused.
Her smile dimmed.
She flipped to a new page and wrote slower.
---
I wonder if Ian went to the Magic Tower…
He said he would think about it.
I hope he goes. I hope he becomes strong.
I hope I see him again.
---
A soft ache settled in her heart.
She closed the diary.
---
Meanwhile, Far Away… A Boy Walks Toward His Fate
The Magic Tower rose like a spear pointing at the sky—silver-blue stone glowing faintly with runes. Ian stood before its enormous gates, breath fogging in the chill air.
He lifted his small fist and knocked.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
WHOOSH.
The gates opened by themselves, magic swirling like mist.
An old man stepped out—tall, thin, draped in ancient robes. His hair was silver, his eyes deep blue like stars.
The Tower Master.
When he looked at Ian…
He froze.
Because inside this fragile-looking boy, mana twisted like a storm—dark, powerful, ancient.
"…Who sent you here?" the Master asked softly.
Ian lowered his gaze.
"A girl."
"A girl?"
He nodded. "She told me the Tower was… where I belonged."
The Master looked at him again.
This time more carefully.
And then he smiled—a slow, knowing smile.
"Come."
Ian blinked. "Come… inside?"
"Yes," the Master said. "From this moment, you are my disciple."
The boy's eyes widened, trembling. "R-Really?"
"You carry a power that does not appear in centuries," the Master murmured. "If left untrained, it will destroy you. But with guidance… you may become the strongest mage in Athriea."
Ian's heart pounded.
He stepped inside the Tower.
Magic hummed around him like a heartbeat.
---
Nightfall — The First Wish
Ian sat by the high arched window of his new room.
The moon hung low and bright, bathing the tower in silver light. Runes glowed softly across the walls.
He pressed his forehead against the cool glass.
"I hope…" he whispered, voice cracking slightly,
"…I see her again."
The night breeze curled through the window, brushing his hair softly—as if promising yes.
The stars shimmered.
The moon glowed.
And somewhere far away, a little girl with white hair was writing about missing him.
Two fates.
Two hearts.
Growing quietly toward each other.
The beginning had finally begun.
---