The sun began to fall off the edge of the world as the night slowly took possession of the sky, like ink spilling into clear water. By the time we returned to the place where we had first stepped down from the carriage, the air had grown cooler, quieter — the city holding its breath between day and darkness.
"Numael and Isla, stay here with auntie and Lina. We're going to meet King Roswell," Vionette said to the knight—Numael—and Isla, her tone light but carrying the quiet weight of authority that did not need to shout.
The two of them froze, exchanging a glance. Surprise flickered across their faces like a passing shadow.
"Will you be okay, princess?" Isla asked, worry threading through her voice like a thin silver needle. Even in the dimming light, her concern was unmistakable.
"I can't let your majesty go alone in a foreign land," Numael declared, straightening as though bracing himself before a battlefield. His hand instinctively hovered near the hilt at his waist — not out of aggression, but habit. Protection was stitched into him like embroidery on a knight's crest.
Seeing this, Vionette let out a soft sigh — not annoyed, not dismissive, but fond. She shook her head gently before turning and pointing a single finger at me.
"Don't worry, this guy is here. I doubt you two can be compared."
...She is really confident in my power more than even me.
The evening wind passed between us, carrying faint scents of lantern oil and distant cooking fires. Numael and Isla both looked at me with identical expressions of doubt, as though they were measuring a blade that appeared too simple to cut.
Well, it was understandable.
Numael was one of the finest knights of Crimvane — a shield honed through blood and discipline — which was precisely why Vionette had chosen him for a low-man visit. And Isla, though a support class, was the personal doctor to both the princess and the former queen. Combined with Numael, the two were a fortress in motion.
Against that, I looked like… a guy who wandered in by accident.
Without knowing what to say — because, honestly, what do you say in moments like that? "Trust me, I punch good?" — I just gave a small smile.
I can't just punch the two to prove my strength, now can I?
Numael lowered his head briefly, thinking. When he raised it again, his expression had settled — not convinced, but resolved.
"Well… if the princess believes in him, I have no objections."
Turning toward Vionette, Isla nodded softly. "I won't object."
They probably wanted to believe in Vionette more than my strength.
Don't worry. I'll give you guys a good beating once we're at Crimvane.
After leaving Lina and the others in the carriage, we headed toward the castle.
…
Even though it was night, the city remained bright as day. Lanterns burned along every street, golden light reflecting off polished stone and lively storefronts. Laughter spilled from taverns. Music drifted from open windows. This capital did not sleep — it merely changed masks.
I glanced sideways at Vionette, who walked ahead with a rhythm in her steps that suggested she was enjoying this far too much.
"Why are we walking again? We can just go by carriage." I leaned my head closer to hers, lowering my voice.
She raised her left hand without looking at me and gently pushed my face away, as if moving aside an overly curious cat.
"Like I said, let's take our sweet little time~"
Sigh! Well, I can't convince her anyway.
"Then, why are we going to meet the king?" I asked, giving her a suspicious side-eye.
"Mmmm~ We're going to plant a little seed."
A seed?
Is it that mind control skill she has?
Wanting to be surprised when I saw it, I walked along with her without asking for the answer. Some games were more fun when you didn't peek at the ending.
"Then, I'll take my sweet little time enjoying the view too"
"Heheh~That's more like it"
---
The castle rose above the capital in radiant gold, its polished walls catching the last breath of sunlight as though the heavens themselves crowned it. White and crimson banners crowned its towering spires, fluttering like proud declarations against the darkening sky.
Below, immaculate gardens spread in perfect symmetry, marble paths winding between trimmed hedges, roses, and quiet fountains that whispered secrets to no one in particular. Everything was deliberate. Nothing accidental. Power loved symmetry.
In stark contrast, the great silver gate stood cold and imposing. Forged from thick steel and engraved with the royal sigil, its towering doors reflected light like a drawn blade. It was less a door and more a warning.
Four gatekeepers stood before it, evenly spaced and unmoving. Clad in polished armor trimmed with gold, spears held upright, they watched in silence — unblinking, unyielding. Like statues carved to guard the boundary between common breath and royal air.
A guard looked up as two figures approached the gate.
One had shining white hair and crimson piercing eyes — like frost touched by bloodlight. The other was her opposite — dark black hair and eyes with black sclera and purple irises, like a star swallowed by night. And yet, the two seemed far too relaxed, chatting as though strolling through a market rather than approaching a sovereign fortress.
The guard raised his hand, blocking their path.
"Stop! What business do you have here? This is the royal castle."
"Pardon me, I'm Vionette Crimvane, princess of the Crimvane Kingdom," Vionette answered, smiling with her crimson eyes — calm, unhurried.
Crimvane? That Crimvane from the north-central?
The guard's mind raced. He glanced at his companions. None of the other three spoke. Perhaps they had reached the same conclusion.
No matter how he looked at it, the two figures didn't resemble royals at all. Their clothes were high-quality, yes — but not ceremonial. Not extravagant. And the woman claiming to be a princess had come with only one companion — and he looked more like a friend than an escort.
Normally, any noble or royal would arrive with an appointment, an entourage, and a carriage full of armored proof.
The guard couldn't accept it.
"Don't try to pose yourselves as nobles. Do not resist and go away."
Another guard, clearly short-tempered, stepped forward.
"Do you have an appointment?" the first guard asked, sweat beginning to gather beneath his helmet. He did not want to die over a misunderstanding.
"Uhh… no?" Vionette answered, tilting her head slightly in confusion — as if she genuinely hadn't considered the concept.
"Hey! Last chance. Go away or be executed for your crimes!" the short-tempered guard shouted.
The guards resumed their rigid positions as if the conversation had ended.
Vionette and Noa looked at each other with identical expressions of disappointment.
"…"
"…"
"Hey baldy, I'm serious. I want to talk to the king," Vionette shouted back, clearly annoyed. Pride flickered beneath her playful tone — a reminder that beneath the silk, there was steel.
To everyone's surprise, the reply did not come from the guards.
"Please calm down, your majesty, Queen Vionette. I apologize in place of these fools."
The voice came from beyond the gate — calm, refined, edged with quiet authority.
All present turned toward it.
The old butler stood tall and thin, posture perfectly straight in a tailored black tailcoat. A neatly groomed white moustache framed his stern expression, and his silver hair was combed cleanly back. Gloved hands rested with deliberate elegance.
"Cornelius! How you doing, old man? And call me princess."
Her carefree tone clashed almost comically with his dignified aura.
"I am pleased to see you have grown well," Cornelius replied, maintaining composure before his gaze shifted toward the man beside her. "…and this is?"
Before Noa could answer, Vionette wrapped both arms around his right arm, leaning slightly into me.
"Oh, this? This is my partner, Noa."
"Yo!" Noa greeted with a wave and easy smile.
For a brief instant, something flickered behind Cornelius' composed exterior — surprise, perhaps. The princess he remembered had not been so openly affectionate, nor so relaxed in posture. Yet whatever thoughts stirred within him were buried beneath discipline.
"Now then, please follow me to the Royal Garden until I notify His Majesty."
Behind them, the four guards stood frozen.
"Q-queen?"
"She said she's the princess though—"
"Who is that man then?"
Though high-ranking knights, they had never imagined addressing royalty so casually — let alone threatening one.
Vionette paused, turning back with a soft smile.
"Don't look like you guys are going to get executed. It's fine. I mean, it's a sudden visit after all."
She tapped the short-tempered guard lightly on the back before walking past.
The guards exchanged stunned looks.
"She is so kind for a royal…"
"This is the first—"
"That man is so lucky—"
"Shhh! He must be royalty too!"
They were wrong.
She spared them because she was in a good mood. Because tonight was adventure. She chose not to stain her amusement with blood.
Kindness, sometimes, was just convenience dressed nicely.
…
"Please wait here while I inform His Majesty," Cornelius said, gesturing gracefully toward the Royal Garden.
The Royal Garden stood at the heart of the palace grounds — a white marble structure open on all sides, crowned with a domed roof trimmed in gold. Slender pillars framed the space while sheer silk curtains swayed gently in the night breeze.
Symmetry ruled the surrounding gardens — trimmed hedges, blooming roses, quiet fountains whose soft trickle filled the air like restrained applause — beautiful, exposed, and carefully guarded without seeming so.
Diplomacy always smiled while sharpening knives.
After Cornelius left, Vionette and Noa entered and sat.
Three marble chairs were arranged evenly around a circular table — a silent declaration of equality between Vionette, Roswell, and even Noa. Cornelius must have assumed Noa was someone of weight.
Little did he know.
The table was dressed in fine linen, set with polished porcelain and crystal glasses that caught the lanternlight. Trays held sliced fruits, delicate pastries, honey-glazed tarts. A silver pot of tea released soft, fragrant steam into the air.
Vionette crossed her left leg elegantly, adopting a flawless noble posture as if flipping a switch. Princess mode: activated.
She took a small bite. The crust gave a faint crisp before sweetness melted on her tongue.
"Mmm~ This is good."
She placed one hand on her cheek, eyes closing briefly in exaggerated delight.
"I know, right?" Noa replied, already halfway through a pastry.
As the two indulged in the refreshments, a slow, cold wind moved through the garden.
It wasn't natural.
It felt deliberate.
The curtains stirred. The fountain's rhythm seemed to falter for half a breath.
As the wind faded, a faint, knowing smirk touched Vionette's lips — subtle and deliberate. The smile of someone who had already seen the board, the pieces, and the inevitable checkmate.
As if she had already planted the seed.
And now, she was simply waiting for it to bloom.
"Let's get started then"