The porcelain teapot shattered into pieces. The maid responsible trembled, her eyes wide with fear as they darted to the red-haired noblewoman seated across from her. The noblewoman, watching the scene in silence, made no immediate reaction. With a slight gesture, the maid was quietly escorted away by the butler. Hestia, unfazed, turned to her superior and calmly said, "Your Majesty, it’s just a minor disturbance. There's no need to punish her." Her superior raised his sharp, dangerous gaze. “Know your place, Hestia.” His Majesty lowered his head once more to continue enjoying his tea.

Gulping down the saliva to ease her adrenaline and those thumping palpitations, Hestia took a sip of her favourite blend, her gaze drifting over the guests gathered around her. She sat at a round marble table, perfectly centred in the heart of the Imperial garden. Across from her sat her superior. It was the emperor himself, Leonardo Karius Afanas, the feared tyrant of Balthazar, his sharp eyes observing her every move. To her left sat Arius Allen Shian, the chancellor of Balthazar, and to her right, Helen De Shiki, the fearsome and monstrous duchess of the North.

This was no ordinary meeting.  This was the usual private gathering of the empire’s most powerful figures—the four pillars of Balthazar—held just before the emperor’s birthday. Though the atmosphere seemed casual, the gathering served a dual purpose: it was a time for both leisure and the discreet discussion of personal and state affairs. Here, in the emperor's garden, the shadows of secrets and conspiracies were often brought into the light, no matter how dark and hidden they were.

The imperial garden in summer buzzes with life—sunlight filters through towering trees, casting soft shadows on cobblestone paths. The air is filled with the sweet scent of jasmine, citrus, and fresh herbs. Fountains bubble gently, their mist cooling the warm breeze, while vibrant flowers bloom in every corner. But now, even this beautiful iridescence of the garden could not dissipate the heaviness that was felt by everyone due to the presence of His Majesty, The Great Leonardo Karius Afanas.

 The atmosphere grew tense after the servant’s mishap, amplifying the unease among the remaining entourage. With a single tap of Leonardo’s royal staff, the entire group of ‘outsiders’ was swiftly expelled from the garden. The emperor had no patience for distractions—he demanded absolute order in his presence.

"Thank you for keeping the magical barrier so stable, Hestia." Leonardo’s voice was cold, his eyes sharp and predatory. He made no effort to conceal the hatred simmering beneath the surface. His words were a hollow formality, spoken only for the sake of appearance. Everyone could feel the tension, as if he were struggling to suppress a sneer, biting back the venom that lingered just behind his lips.

"The pleasure is all mine, sire," Hestia replied calmly, her voice steady despite the weight of his gaze. "It is my duty as the Witch of Balthazar." She focused intently on the cup in her hands, avoiding his piercing red eyes, glowing like bloodstained rubies. Meeting his stare would only provoke a silent battle neither wanted to start, yet neither would back down from. 

"Exactly why you were entrusted with this great responsibility by our majesty," Arius interjected, his voice light in a desperate attempt to dissolve the tension. His emerald green eyes silently pleaded with Helen, who returned his gaze with a strained, helpless look. She dared not interfere—caught between the Emperor Maker and the Emperor himself. Both nobles were locked in a silent, bitter clash, and no words would ease the cold, suffocating weight that hung in the air.

"Arius, cease your meddling." Leonardo's voice cut through like a blade, the finality in his tone unmistakable.

"Apologies, Your Imperial Majesty," Arius replied, the words a hollow echo, as if the pit of dread in his stomach had opened deeper still, swallowing any hope of peace. The room remained thick with unspoken tension, a chill that gnawed at the bones, leaving everyone in its grip paralyzed with unease. Whether they were to bask in the brilliant weather or succumb to the weight of their anxiety, they could not say.

“Hestia, if you ever feel the curse starting to take effect, don’t hesitate to inform me," Leonardo's voice shifted to a sickeningly saccharine tone, laced with venomous mockery. "I’ll need to find you the perfect husband to birth your executioner." His words dripped with derision, a clear and deliberate insult not just to Hestia, but to her entire house. Yet, she remained silent, swallowing the injustice,  as though it were a bitter pill, with practised grace. She knew better than to challenge him—if anything, she was expected to be grateful that the emperor showed even this twisted form of concern for her doomed lineage. She exhaled softly, resigned to endure his habitual cruelty, silently counting down the days until it might end—though she needn’t wait much longer.

"It won’t be much of a hassle as long as the killer bears the blood of Cecile Von," Helen muttered under her breath, her violet bangs veiling one side of her face. Irritation flickered in her eyes, betraying her calm for the melodramatic facade that surrounded her. The entire gathering felt like a farce—nothing more than a hollow performance, with each of them playing their part. Marionettes, all of them, moving mechanically to the same lifeless script. The charade agitated her, and it was clear her patience was wearing dangerously thin. Yet Helen would rather endure the stifling tension and humiliation than succumb to the consequences of her own folly.

"Your cousin appears to be an ideal match," the raven-haired emperor remarked, his voice laced with feigned concern that barely masked his true intentions—to eradicate the Von lineage. A faint, sinister grin tugged at his lips, his canines gleaming subtly as he relished Hestia's restrained reaction. With a tilt of his head and a sadistic glint in his eyes, he savoured the discomfort he inflicted, knowing well the implications of his words. Incestuous alliances were not uncommon among the elite, and he had no qualms about tarnishing Hestia's reputation with his decrees. At his upcoming birthday ball, he planned to orchestrate her marriage to her supposed cousin, a move intended to consolidate their noble status. Little did he know, this cousin was not of blood relation but a sworn adversary of Hestia in the realm of magic, unwittingly exacerbating Hestia's already fraught mood.

"I fail to comprehend why anyone would curse Cecile simply because she didn't reciprocate their affections," Arius interjected with a groan, attempting to pivot the conversation and position himself as a solver of mysteries, even though he knew the underlying motives all too well. Despite the palpable risk of incurring the emperor's wrath and the looming threat of repercussions, he persisted in his efforts to inject levity. Helen shot him a pointed look, silently urging him to halt his reckless banter, but Arius forged ahead, determined to divert Leonardo's attention. The emperor, his gaze half-lidded and inscrutable, calmly sipped his Pu Erh tea, watching Arius's antics with quiet amusement. Eventually relenting to the diversion, Leonardo allowed the conversation to drift, though the underlying tension in the room remained thick and unresolved, each participant acutely aware of the delicate balance teetering on the edge of discord.

"The individual is quite cunning, you know?" Hestia's voice carried a mixture of frustration and resignation. "He proposed a condition: if a descendant of Cecile Von could locate and eliminate his own descendant, the curse haunting our family would vanish in an instant. Yet, the truth is, we have no knowledge of who placed this curse upon us. Cecile left no trace of them in our records. For generations, we've been searching in vain..."

She bit her lower lip, her blue eyes shimmering with tears held back by sheer will. Hestia leaned on Arius for support, hoping to shield him from becoming the guillotine's next victim. Her demeanour remained composed, though her words rang true. A faint smirk lifted the corners of Leonardo's mouth, partly concealed behind his cup. The Duke and Marchioness duo before him could easily stage an enthralling drama for the masses, should they choose.

"I understand the torment of descending into madness with age, Hestia..." Arius interjected solemnly, his brow furrowed with genuine concern. Playing the role of the empathetic friend came naturally to him—it was survival, after all. Pity and Power were their currency, necessary to prolong their lives in the court's treacherous environment. Leonardo set his cup down with a deliberate clink against the saucer, closing his eyes momentarily to savour the summer breeze.

"Your Majesty…" Hestia met the tyrant's gaze unwaveringly, her long red hair swaying in the wind, lending her a distant yet resolute air. "I believe I've found a lead. I think I've located the descendant... You know why I aligned with you, fueled your rebellion, and helped you seize the throne." She sighed softly, unwilling to dampen his mood on the eve of his twenty-fifth birthday, and weary from the curse beginning to take its toll. Helen, scrunching her face in feigned disgust, played her role in this melodramatic narrative with practiced ease. Despite being labeled a northern bumpkin by some, she remained steadfast in her loyalty to herself and her principles.

"Very well. Commence your hunt today. No delays will be tolerated," the tyrant decreed, releasing them from the oppressive atmosphere of breakfast tea. With a polite dismissal, he ensured Hestia received a personal invitation to a private dinner—an occasion more ominous than any mere date. His hand lightly patted her shoulder, a gesture masking the underlying demand for compliance. His eyes betrayed no mercy, their gaze unyielding and domineering.

"Yes, Your Imperial Highness," Hestia replied with a curtsey, glancing at the other two pillars who had already departed using magical means of travel.

A sense of impending conflict and intrigue hung in the air, leaving unspoken challenges and dominance to linger behind. Hestia gripped the letter in her hand, suppressing her urge to tear it down in pieces, and using it as a means to channel her anger and humiliation that she faced today.