Morning sunlight streamed through the glass dome of the Imperial Academy, scattering across marble floors like threads of gold. The air hummed with energy — laughter, gossip, and the soft clatter of polished boots against stone.
The Academy of Crowns, built at the heart of the continent, stood as neutral ground between all six kingdoms. It was both battlefield and sanctuary, where heirs were sharpened not by swords, but by knowledge and politics.
And today, all of that energy was directed toward one arrival.
"Lady Seraphina d'Altaire has returned."
"Didn't her engagement just break off with the Crown Prince?"
"How bold of her to appear so soon!"
A thousand whispers chased her shadow through the main corridor.
Seraphina walked with elegance that didn't bend beneath scrutiny. Her silver hair was braided loosely, her uniform immaculate — white with silver trimmings, bearing the Altaire crest, a frost-blue phoenix. She didn't smile, but she didn't frown either; her expression was calm, imperious, and utterly unreadable.
Wherever she walked, students instinctively stepped aside.
Beside her, Lucien, her twin, looked more amused than anything. His jacket hung slightly unbuttoned, the same silver hair tousled by the wind. His charm was effortless, dangerous in how easily it disarmed.
"Quite the welcome committee," he murmured, his voice low and rich. "I'm flattered they care this much."
"They don't," Seraphina replied evenly.
Lucien chuckled. "Still, it's nice to be adored — or feared. I take both."
The corridor widened into the grand stairway, where banners from each kingdom hung high above. The symbol of the Southern Kingdom — golden sun on crimson — fluttered near the center. Beneath it, a group of Southern nobles whispered as Seraphina passed.
One of them, Lord Damon, spoke too loudly. "Who allowed her back here? Has she no shame left?"
Lucien stopped. The air shifted.
Students froze as he turned slowly, a smile curving his lips — polite, deadly. "Pardon? I thought I heard a rat squeak."
Damon's throat bobbed. "I—I only meant—"
Lucien stepped close enough that his voice dropped to a whisper, but everyone still heard the steel beneath it. "Next time you feel like speaking my sister's name, wash your mouth first."
Seraphina didn't even glance at Damon as she continued walking. "Lucien, we're already late."
Lucien's smile sharpened. "You're lucky she's merciful."
As they walked on, murmurs erupted behind them — fear, awe, curiosity. The Altaire twins had always been infamous: brilliant, ruthless, and untouchable. But today, the rumors came alive.
---
Inside the Lecture Hall by the time the bell rang, the lecture hall was already packed. Dozens of nobles filled the circular room, books levitating over desks as magic energy shimmered in the air.
At the front, Professor Alden, an old scholar from the Dominion, tapped his staff. "Settle down, please. Today we'll be discussing the magical contracts that bind nations—"
But before he could continue, the heavy door opened.
And the room fell silent.
Crown Prince Adrian de Valmont walked in, his golden hair glinting under the crystal light. His uniform bore the crimson insignia of the Southern Kingdom — crisp, perfect, unwrinkled. Every movement screamed precision.
But beneath the polish, his expression carried a quiet gravity that hadn't been there before.
He met Seraphina's gaze across the hall.
The air thickened.
She didn't flinch.
He inclined his head — small, deliberate, respectful.
Gasps broke out. Even the professor hesitated before clearing his throat.
"Well," Alden muttered. "Let's begin, shall we?"
---
Adrian took his seat beside Lady Elara Fontaine, the heroine whose soft golden curls framed a face too pure for politics. She looked nervous — not because of him, but because of the tension flooding the room.
As the lecture resumed, Seraphina opened her book, though she wasn't reading. Her eyes lingered briefly on Adrian and Elara.
They whispered quietly to each other — not flirtatious, just sincere. It was the first time Seraphina had ever seen Adrian's expression soften like that.
Lucien leaned over. "Look at that," he murmured. "The golden prince is learning humility."
Seraphina turned a page. "Or pretending to."
He smirked. "Cynical as always. I like it."
---
In the courtyard by midday, the academy courtyard glimmered under sunlight. Cherry trees lined the path, petals drifting like snowflakes.
Seraphina stood beneath one, reading quietly. Students stole glances her way — admiration and fear blended into one.
Then came that familiar voice.
"Lady Seraphina."
She looked up. Adrian stood a few paces away, formal as ever, but his eyes no longer held arrogance. There was… sincerity there.
Lucien, seated on the edge of a fountain nearby, arched a brow. "Ah, the prince himself. Should I fetch an audience or will this apology be private?"
Adrian didn't rise to the bait. "Private, if possible."
Seraphina closed her book. "Lucien."
Her twin sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. But if he offends you again, I'm cutting off his hand."
When he was gone, Adrian exhaled. "You have an interesting brother."
"Interesting isn't the word," she replied.
He gave a faint, rueful smile. "I wanted to apologize. Not formally, not as a prince — but as a man who wronged you."
Seraphina's tone was cool. "You already did, when you bowed in class."
"That wasn't enough," he said. "Not for me."
He met her eyes directly. "I believed myself righteous when I defended Elara. But I was proud. Blinded. You didn't deserve public humiliation."
Seraphina studied him. "And what changed?"
Adrian hesitated, then spoke softly. "You did. You accepted the annulment with dignity — more than I did. I saw that, and I realized who the real fool was."
For a moment, silence stretched between them, broken only by falling petals.
Finally, Seraphina said, "Then learn from it, Your Highness. Don't speak righteousness if you don't understand the cost of it."
He nodded slowly. "I will. And… I'd like to earn your trust again. As an ally, if not a friend."
Her lips curved faintly — the ghost of a smile. "Allies are useful. Friends are dangerous."
"Then I'll start with being useful," he said, and for the first time, there was warmth in his voice.
Before she could answer, a voice called, "Your Highness!"
Elara approached, holding several scrolls to her chest. "The professor asked me to deliver these—oh." She paused, glancing at Seraphina, unsure.
"Lady Altaire."
Seraphina smiled faintly. "Lady Fontaine."
Elara hesitated. "I… wanted to say I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean to cause trouble between you two."
"You didn't," Seraphina said simply. "Your kindness isn't at fault. Just learn when not to offer it."
Elara nodded earnestly. "I will. Thank you."
As Elara and Adrian walked away, Seraphina watched them quietly. They didn't look like the enemies she remembered from the otome story. They looked like people fumbling toward growth.
Lucien returned, tossing an apple in his hand. "You're too forgiving."
"I'm strategic," she replied.
He bit into the apple. "Same thing, different flavor."
---
That evening at the rooptop, the academy glittered under starlight. The city below pulsed with magic lights, and the sound of laughter drifted from dormitories.
Seraphina sat on the edge of the rooftop, hair dancing in the breeze. Lucien leaned beside her, eyes reflecting the city's glow.
"So," he said lazily. "The ex-fiancé wants to be your friend. How tragic."
Seraphina smiled slightly. "He's learning. I don't hate him for it."
"Disappointing. I was hoping for some revenge arcs."
"Those are boring," she said. "This is more fun — watching people struggle to change."
Lucien laughed. "You're terrifying."
"Thank you."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while. Then Lucien's gaze dropped toward the academy courtyard where a new figure crossed the grounds — a girl dressed in black and blue robes, short hair fluttering as she walked with quiet purpose.
Seraphina followed his gaze. "Who's that?"
"New transfer," Lucien said. "From the Western Isles, I think. Supposedly a genius swordswoman. Looks interesting."
Seraphina hummed. "Interesting, indeed."
Her eyes lingered — not in curiosity, but something subtler. A spark.
Lucien noticed and smirked. "Careful, sister. That look of yours means trouble."
"Maybe," she said softly. "Maybe not."
---
Later that night.
In another wing of the academy, Adrian stood before the window of his dorm room. The moonlight spilled across his desk, illuminating a sealed letter — one addressed to the Southern King.
He hadn't sent it yet.
Elara's voice echoed faintly in his memory. "You can't undo the past, Your Highness, but you can do better moving forward."
And Seraphina's words — calm, sharp, unrelenting — struck deeper than any sword.
He exhaled, sat down, and began to write again — not as a prince, but as a man trying to become worthy of his crown.
---
Back on the rooftop, the twins remained under the stars.
Lucien stretched. "Think we'll survive another semester without burning the academy down?"
Seraphina's lips curved. "No promises."
The bell tower chimed, marking midnight.
Beneath it, the Academy of Crowns slept — unaware that the villains of the story had already begun to rewrite it.