[ January 7, 1015 — Noon
Prince Rion's Private Study, Moonstone Palace ]
Silence. There was only the faint scraping sound of a silver knife slicing through fruit peel.
Rion von Moonstone sat behind a large ebony desk cluttered with stacks of territorial administration parchment. However, his focus was not on ink or seals, but on a single green apple in his hand.
He peeled it with terrifying precision. The apple skin came off in one long, unbroken ribbon, revealing the pale flesh beneath. Without rushing, he divided the apple into four symmetrical pieces, discarded the seeds, and then speared one slice with the knife's tip.
He lifted the piece to his mouth, chewing slowly. Sweet, yet with a lingering sourness.
Knock. Knock.
Rion stopped chewing. He swallowed the fruit forcefully, disrupting the rhythm of his calm. His golden irises flashed sharply toward the tightly closed mahogany door.
"Enter."
Click.
The door opened without excessive noise. A young man stepped inside, then closed the door behind him with the heel of his boot—a disrespectful gesture, yet executed with strange grace.
Revan von Silverlake.
His nearly white silver hair fell straight, framing his face, reflecting the midday sun with a cold sheen. It was the hallmark of the Silverlake family—a legacy from his father, the Archduke who was killed by the Northern Grand Duke fifteen years ago.
However, what set Revan apart from the other family members were his eyes. A pair of peanut-brown irises stared at Rion. The color was warm, contrasting sharply with his stoic, flat expression. Deceptive eyes; they looked gentle, yet held the sharpness of a master observer.
"Rion.." Revan greeted flatly.
Rion snorted, setting his knife back onto the silver plate with a sharp clink. He leaned back into his plush chair, giving his cousin a lazy look.
"I don't recall inviting you into my study, Revan. Shouldn't you be back at Ostrivien Academy, pretending to be the model student?"
Revan ignored the sarcasm. He pulled up a wooden chair in front of Rion's desk, sat down uninvited, and crossed one leg over the other.
"Visiting a cousin who is sick doesn't require a formal invitation," Revan replied calmly. His eyes swept over the untouched stack of letters on Rion's desk. "Besides, I bring news from Ostrivien Academy. Something that might make your extended vacation feel less enjoyable."
"Say it." Rion gestured with his hand, picking up the second apple slice. "I'm listening."
Revan leaned forward slightly. His expression turned serious.
"It concerns attendance. January 3rd was the deadline for the winter break. Most students have returned."
"Hideon?" Rion asked, naming the Sunstone Faction Leader.
"Returned right on time. As did Edward von Heartstone. Even Princess Lyanna von Skystone, who is usually busy with trade affairs, returned yesterday, the 5th."
Rion chewed slowly. "So, all the faction leaders have gathered back in that viper pit. Except for me."
"Except for you," Revan confirmed. "And one other person."
Rion raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
"Seraphina von Heartstone."
Rion's hand froze in mid-air. The apple slice, about to enter his mouth, was suspended.
"Seraphina?" Rion repeated. "Edward's deputy?"
"Correct. She has not returned up to this moment." Revan stared straight into Rion's golden eyes. "Your and Seraphina's simultaneous absence, without a clear official reason, has sparked wild rumors among the students."
Rion laughed softly, a dry, hollow sound. "Let me guess. Their pea-brains think the Ice Princess and I are...?"
"Dating. Or worse, eloping."
"Bastards!" Rion cursed under his breath. He threw his apple slice back onto the plate. His appetite vanished instantly. "I haven't even exchanged ten sentences with her in five years at the academy. Who spread this trash?"
"I tracked the source—a Caste C student, Grade 8—paid by someone from the Sunstone Faction. I have already handled the student and issued a warning to both male and female students not to discuss it further," Revan answered efficiently. "But the rumor has spread like wildfire, Rion. And that fire is burning in the wrong direction."
Rion massaged his throbbing temples. This was bad. Very bad. His plan was to build the image of the sacred, untouchable Chosen Hero. A rumor of a romantic scandal, especially with a princess from a rival empire, would taint that mask.
And even worse...
"Estrella," Rion hissed.
Revan nodded. He reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a thick envelope sealed with crimson wax. The emblem of a Thorned Rose—the crest of the Marquess Estrella family.
"The courier just arrived ten minutes ago. This is top priority."
Rion snatched the letter. He broke the wax seal roughly and unfolded the paper. His eyes quickly scanned the elegant, yet venomous handwriting.
> To His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Rion von Moonstone,
> Your correspondence has been received with great joy. The Estrella family eagerly anticipates your visit.
> However, certain rumors have reached our attention—rumors of a distressing nature concerning Your Highness and a certain princess of Heartstone. While I am certain these are baseless fabrications spread by envious tongues, my daughter Sylvia has expressed a desire to address this matter directly.
> Therefore, we propose moving our meeting forward. If Your Highness is available, we would be honored to receive you tomorrow, the 8th of January, at our estate.
> We trust this will provide an opportunity to dispel any misunderstandings and proceed with our joyous union.
> With deepest respect,
> Marquess Albert von Estrella
>
Rion crushed the paper until it was wrinkled.
"Damn it," he growled. "This old man's politeness truly makes me want to vomit. He's essentially saying: 'I know the gossip, come tomorrow and explain yourself or this engagement is off.'"
"Tomorrow?" Revan confirmed.
"Tomorrow. The 8th." Rion threw the letter onto the desk. "I have to leave tonight. The teleportation portal to Estrella territory requires three hours of energy preparation."
Rion stood, walking toward the large window behind his desk. He stared out at the vast palace gardens, trying to cool his head.
"Sylvia von Estrella..." Rion muttered. "She's not the big problem—I'm honestly sure she doesn't care about this garbage rumor. It's just her troublesome father."
"At least it gives you a chance to silence the rumor," Revan said calmly. "If you show up there and formalize the engagement date, the rumor about Seraphina will die on its own."
Rion laughed, a dry, short sound. "Formalize? You forget, Revan, this is a secret marriage." Rion shook his head slowly, his expression full of disgust. "Only certain people in the two families know about this. The old goat really wants me to submit to love."
Revan leaned forward slightly, processing the new information. "Oh."
Rion ignored the brief response, returning to his efficient mode. He turned, staring at his right hand. "And you, Revan. I need you back at the Academy immediately after I leave."
"Of course."
"Without me there, the Moonstone Faction is like a lion without a head. Hideon will surely try to pressure our members. Lyanna might stay quiet, but she's cunning. And Edward... that man is unpredictable." Rion stared sharply into his cousin's peanut-brown eyes. "Hold them off. Don't let our faction look weak. Just one week. Once I sort out Sylvia and drag her to the Academy, I'll return."
Revan offered a faint smile—a rare and slightly wry smile.
"One week holding off three major factions alone? You're giving me a heavy task, Cousin."
"You are the Vice-Leader of the Moonstone Faction. You are the son of Arcduke Silverlake. Your blood is cold, Revan. Use it."
"Cold is not enough to lead, Rion," Revan countered softly. "They respect me because I'm competent, true. But they don't follow me. Not the way they follow you."
"What do you mean?"
"You have the face of a protagonist," Revan said honestly. He pointed at Rion's face. "Gold hair, gold eyes, the angelic smile. You are a symbol. I? I am merely a silver shadow standing behind the light."
Rion was silent for a moment. He knew Revan was right. This world was shallow; people worshiped symbols. And Rion had built that symbol perfectly.
"Then make them fear the shadow," Rion said coldly. "Do what I cannot do while wearing my angel mask. Be my dirty hand, Revan."
Revan nodded obediently. There was no protest. He stood, smoothing his coat. "I will prepare your departure."
Before Revan reached the door, he paused for a moment and turned without fully facing him.
"Oh, Rion. Your personal maid... Elisa, isn't it?"
Rion's body tensed. "Why do you ask?"
"No specific reason," Revan replied flatly. "It's just... her name reminds me of Aunt Felisha. Your mother."
Bang!
Rion slammed his fist on the desk. "Get out, Revan."
Rion's voice was low, trembling with suppressed fury. Mentioning his mother's name was the greatest taboo in this room.
Revan didn't react to the outburst. He just smirked, then stepped out. The door closed with a soft click, leaving Rion alone in the suffocating silence.
Rion closed his eyes, steadying his ragged breath.
Mother...
The image of his mother's smiling face, then her pale face in the coffin, spun in his head. The pain was still the same, even after all these years.
He stumbled toward the window, trying to find another view to distract his mind.
His eyes caught movement in the garden below.
There, among the white rose bushes, two figures were sitting on a garden bench.
A woman with light brown hair loosely tied back, and a blonde boy about twelve years old.
Elisa. And Rakesh.
Rion clutched the window curtain until the silk fabric crumpled.
He saw Rakesh laugh—a crisp, innocent laugh, a sound Rion never possessed. The boy held a woven garland of wildflowers in his hands. Carefully, like holding a royal crown, Rakesh placed the floral wreath on Elisa's head.
Elisa started slightly, then laughed.
Rion was frozen.
From this distance, he could see it. That smile.
Elisa's smile blossomed genuinely, her eyes narrowing into crescents. There was no fear like when the woman was alone with him in the bedroom. No tears. No trembling.
Just pure happiness.
Elisa looked... beautiful. Truly beautiful.
"Hmph," Rion hissed, yet he didn't move away from the window.
Look at them. Two discarded people, Rion thought cynically. The low-ranking maid and the unlucky prince. A perfect match.
Rion tried to convince himself he was disgusted. That he hated Rakesh for having killed their mother at birth. That he only considered Elisa a plaything for his lust.
But his chest felt tight.
A hot feeling spread in his stomach. Not anger. Not lust.
It was envy.
An envy that burned and hurt.
He wanted that smile.
He wanted Elisa to smile at him like that. Not at his pathetic little brother.
"She's mine," Rion whispered to the cold window glass. "Her body, her pain... and her smile should be, too."
Rion turned his back to the window, unable to watch any longer. His heart churned between hatred for Rakesh and a strange longing for warmth that he couldn't reach.
Tomorrow, he would go to Estrella. He would put on his angel mask again, smile falsely at Sylvia, and play the role of the perfect Prospective Husband.
But here, in this room, Rion von Moonstone was just a boy, fragile from being neglected by his father, and having lost his only source of warmth.