PROLOGUE:

Drayce stood amidst the gathered crowd. Hidden beneath a disguise, the Emperor of Vortalis said nothing. He blended like smoke into the press of bodies, just another face in the joy filled occasion. He had entered enemy territory for one reason, to see the face behind the name he’d heard once days ago. A name that shouldn't have meant anything. And yet, here he was. An emperor, hiding in plain sight. He barely looked at the gilded carriages rolling past.
Until he heard the name he’d been waiting for.

“Princess Elinessa of Elarion!”

The cheers rose like a tide cresting the palace walls. Petals rained from balconies. Children shouted her name. Even the guards seemed to stand taller.

The darling of the kingdom…

His golden eyes snapped toward the sound, a quiet spark catching somewhere behind them. His posture straightened without thought, and his shoulders turned, slow and deliberate, as if pulled by a force older than curiosity.

His gaze found the next carriage softer in design, but no less radiant. Its sides were carved with floral sigils, its silks pale rose and moonlight blue, meant to reflect the gentleness of the woman inside it. But just before he caught sight of her, a memory re-surfaced which he encountered in passing. A voice, from weeks ago. One of his soldiers, murmuring near a fire under the shadow of the Vortalis tents.

“Her face’s was so unspoiled, untouched by war or weather. Beautiful like the kind you see once in a life. I swear, Commander… if she looked at me, I’d sell myself just to be near her.”

At the time, he’d smirked at the poetic nonsense. But now, whatever smile had curled his lips earlier was gone. Whatever sharp thoughts had prowled his mind… fell silent. For a breathless moment, he even forgot who he was. He forgot the crowd, the place where he was now, his mission. His title and even his empire. He didn’t realize he was moving until his boots brushed through flower petals. Unknowingly or perhaps unwilling to resist he followed the convoy. Or rather… he followed her. His eyes locked not on the carriage, not on the guards but on her face alone, as if he was trying to memorize every angle of something he never expected to see.

His world narrowed for that moment. And everything outside the curve of her cheek and the turn of her gaze… ceased to exist.

                                                                         *************************************

People always say stories were humanity's greatest invention. Nah. I’d argue stories were humanity’s first obsession.

Back when we were still poking mammoths with sticks, some guy was already scratching little thunder gods into cave walls and dramatically narrating it to his confused tribe. scrolls and books, and we devoured them. Within those pages gods fell, kingdoms rose, lovers bled. Every fantasy of humankind lived and breathed between ink and parchment.

And somehow, we followed every step, with nothing but the turn of a page. Later books became screens. Screens became portals..… and finally? Well, finally the line between watching a story and living inside one blurred into nothing at all.

We grew hungry for more. We wanted more. So we made it possible.

DreamSync Limited

The most advanced narrative immersion tech on the market today.

Yeah, in my time, you don't just read stories. You step into them. You pay the obscene premium, pass the psyche test, sign a two-hundred-page waiver that basically says “if you get emotionally wrecked inside your favorite fairytale, that’s on you” and voilà. You’re inserted into the narrative, living and breathing as one of its characters.

And of course, most people, what do they do? They make a beeline for the leads. They go straight for the Main Characters. Of course they do. The tall, brooding hero with the tragic backstory. Or the flirty one with too many buttons undone. The emotionally unavailable bastard everyone swears they’ll “fix.” The sweet, golden protagonist who radiates sunlight and conveniently has abs. Or, in the female lead category: the goddess-tier beauty with endless knowledge and the wardrobe budget of a small kingdom. Everyone wants their dream romance.

But me? I couldn't choose between them.

I loved both the male lead and the heroine; not in a weird love triangle way, but in a “please, you two idiots, be happy forever, adopt cats, and dance in flower fields until you’re eighty” kind of way.

So instead of opting for the predictable romantic route, I went for something else. Something better.

I chose to become a witness. A side character in my absolute favorite novel. A quiet presence in the backdrop of the love story I’d adored since I was sixteen. And so, I became Princess Elinessa Aurel; the soft-spoken royal little sister of our male lead. A presence barely relevant in the story. A gentle extra in the story I'd adored since I read the novel:

"Petals of the Crown."

I knew that story like my own heartbeat. A fluffy, heartwarming romance full of slow-burn ache and ballgown sparkle. Every chapter etched into my skull. Every dumb little misunderstanding. Every awkward flirt, accidental touch, jealous glare, dramatic run through the rain; I had cried over it, laughed over it, highlighted passages like they were scripture. Basically, I ate that stuff up. 

It was my comfort novel. My obsession and my first literary love.

I had just graduated university, still high off coffee, thesis madness, and the looming dread of entering the real world as an adult. Before entering into the busy world again I rewarded myself with this experience for which I worked part time desperately, saving each and every penny and poured it all into this.

One last madness before...… whatever nine-to-five grind life is.

Here I was, fully immersed. Months of living inside the world of Petals of the Crown.

Well, technically, only a day had passed in the real world. Time flows differently when you're jacked into a narrative core; don't ask me how, I signed the waiver and skimmed the science.

But here’s the important part; We were finally at the end. The drama was done. Our protagonists the prince and the heroine had chosen each other.

Crown Prince Callisto Aurel is emotionally attuned, storm-eyed, and the human embodiment of a sigh ....... finally stopped brooding long enough to confess. And Lady Mirabel Ravel, sweet and sunshiny with flower braids and eyes like honey tea, had said yes like she'd been waiting her whole damn life for it right there, under the lit lanterns at the Moonlit Bloom Festival.

Gods know how many chapters of longing glances and tragic misunderstandings it had taken. But one night of lanterns and trembling hands sealed it. Canon achieved.

And me?

I was standing ten feet away in a pastel gown, completely third-wheeling like a deranged court jester at the climax of my favorite slow-burn romance.

"Oh my god, they're doing it," I squealed.

“They’re actually—he’s—oh, oh my god.”

And then, like the mature, emotionally stable adult that I am: I giggled, hysterically. Like a royal idiot. Like a fan watching her fanfic leads get together in full cinematic HD.

"Princess, compose yourself," someone hissed behind me. But no. I was too far gone. My soul had departed my body and ascended to fiction heaven.

I was witnessing the literal climax of my favorite romance. And Callisto was reaching for Mirabel's hand like it was made of starlight and Mirabel was looking at him like her world had finally clicked into place.

I straight up had to turn around and scream silently into my sleeve. I may or may not have muttered, “this is better than any fanfic roleplay,” out loud. Which, in this world, makes no sense. But you know what? It was worth it.

And then there was Commander Luke Dreva. The tragic silver-haired war god who had spent an entire novel being heartbreak on legs. The second Main Lead, rival knight had stepped down with honor, just two chapters earlier, bless his sad, sharp-edged soul. I remember that scene. Gods, I remember every part of it.

He hadn’t begged. He hadn’t cried. He simply handed his feelings over like a farewell sword. “May your heart rest where it’s always belonged,” he’d said, giving her that tiny, devastating smile. The kind that meant he was dying inside but would let her go, for her happiness.

And I?

I dissolved into a useless puddle behind a curtain and choked on a grape. Literally, a maid had to pat my back while I gasped "he deserves better!" And this story is almost over. Their wedding robes were already in the embroidery phase.

Only one scene remained: The First Kiss. The final emotional climax before the epilogue.