Now, technically and literally, Princess Elinessa was never supposed to be present for that part of the story.

The kiss had been carefully scripted to unfold in the Central Garden, tucked at the far edge of the capital. Just past midnight, when the last threads of consciousness unraveled from the city and only the glow of the lamps remained to guard the silence. The scene is supposed to bloom into something private, tender, and breathtakingly romantic. A moment designed for two characters alone. Off-limits to background extras like me.

But listen;

I’ve been here since the early chapters, practically carrying this romance on my delicate shoulders.

I’ve delivered their secret letters, smuggled chocolates from the royal kitchens, arranged those “unexpected” tea encounters, and given out more unsolicited love advice than I have in my entire real-world existence. So if anyone deserved a front-row ticket to the kiss? No doubt, it should be me. Absolutely me.

I deserve this.

And besides… do you know how much money I forked out for this whole immersive experience? A truly idiotic amount. At this point, every ounce of drama, every blush they’re all receipts I intend to cash in. So yes, I was going to squeeze every last drop of emotion out of this system, even if it meant a little… curious exploration.

Which is why I was currently standing in the middle of my father’s study, hands clasped dramatically to my chest like I was auditioning for Most Tragic Daughter in a Fantasy Courtroom.

“Please, Mother,” I begged. “Just one little peek. I promise I won’t say a word. I’ll hide behind the rose hedge and breathe like a feather. I’ll be so quiet they’ll mistake me for decorative landscaping.”

I clasped my hands tighter and leaned in with my most dutiful smile.
“Mother, I promise. I’ll complete every task you gave me tomorrow. I will double the embroidery practice, just… please, let me watch tonight.”

The Queen of this kingdom, sovereign and mother of far too many headaches, gave me a stare that could have frozen lava mid-flow. Not just a mother’s disapproving look, but the kind of are you planning to dishonor three generations of ancestors glare that could peel paint off the walls.

“Elinessa,” she said slowly, “the Central Garden is at the far edge of the capital. That is not a place for a young lady to ride to in the middle of the night, and certainly not for a… peek. You would do best to give your brother some privacy.”

When her frown only deepened, I turned toward the other parent in the room; my father, the king, who sat at the center of his desk surrounded by towers of documents and ink stains of diplomacy.

“Father,” I pleaded, stepping closer, “please ask Mother to give me permission. Just this once.”

The king paused, his quill hovering. He glanced at me, then at the queen, before chuckling softly.

“My queen,” he said, in his voice gentle, “let our princess go and have her fun. Children are meant to do odd things.”

The queen’s eyes snapped to him, sharp enough to cut stone.
“She is not a child anymore,” she replied stone cold. The glare she leveled at him could have reduced lesser men to ashes.

The king coughed, lowered his gaze, and promptly returned to his paperwork as though he had never opened his mouth.

Ah, men are afraid of there wives no matter where. But I was undeterred. I again shifted my attention towards my mother. This was a boss battle, and I had a secret weapon: The Ultimate Daughter Combo. Big watery eyes along with soft voice. Elbow tilt of desperation. And for the finishing blow; the slight head tilt, also known as Pure Guilt Manipulation, Level 99. I was deep in full-blown NPC persuasion mode.

Her silence lasted through at least three of my most theatrical sighs before she finally, grudgingly, relented.

“Fine,” she said. “Take a few royal guards and your maids. You are not to be seen, not to disturb them, and if anything even resembles impropriety—”

 "I'm already gone!" hugging her and kissing her hand before she could finish talking. My silk skirts swished as I practically skipped out of the chamber. Through the door, I heard the queen’s voice call after me: "ELI! Do not run and come back safely, do not create trouble for your brother," or something along those lines.

Mission Accepted: Emotionally Appropriate Royal Witness

The kiss was happening tonight. And I was not going to miss it. No matter what.

                                    -----------------------------

The heavy doors closed behind me with a sweep of velvet and a ripple of excited chatter from my maids echoing down the corridor.

Inside, the king did not lift his gaze from the battlefield of documents spread across his desk, their golden seals glittering in the lamplight. But the corner of his mouth curved, betraying amusement.

“Let her go,” he murmured, still scribbling something in sharp, precise strokes. “She’s young and full of energy. Let her feel life even if it’s through someone else’s love story.”

The queen lingered by the tall windows, framed by curtains that billowed like restless shadows. Beyond the glass, the city shimmered under the dying light, carriages gathering at the gates in tiny sparks of gold. Her hands were folded, but not at ease. Her profile was carved from worry.

“I’m not worried about her,” she said after a pause.

The king’s quill stilled. He lifted his eyes, his brows knitting. “Then what troubles you, My Queen?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Only kept her gaze on the far edge of the city, where the horizon bled from gold into bruised blue.

“The witch,” she whispered finally.

He blinked. “The old one? The one from—wait. Did you summon her?” he asked, his brow furrowing further.

The queen’s face, when she turned, was unreadable. “Has Vaelira ever come when summoned?”

“…No,” the king admitted, frowning. “She goes where she pleases. Always has.”

A quiet breath escaped the queen, half laugh and half sigh, heavy with resignation.

“She said she will be here tonight,” the queen replied. “No reason given. But her prophecies…” She faltered. “…They always come true. And they are never kind.”

And the chamber dimmed with the coming night, as though the walls themselves were bracing for ill tidings.

The queen turned back toward the window. The king glanced down, only to see his ink blotting into a dark pool across his signature. He sighed—

And then they froze. Mid-motion in their mid-thought. As if someone had hit pause on their very existence.

The queen’s breath halted halfway through her chest. Her eyes remained wide, unblinking, fixed on nothing. And the king’s hand hovered in the air, quill trembling, but never falling.

They both remained statues. Not merely still, but emptied, as if someone had pressed pause on their very existence. Their gazes were open yet vacant, glassy like dolls abandoned on a dusty stage, waiting for the next line of code.

A suffocating stillness swallowed the royal study. But it didn’t last long. Somewhere in the palace or perhaps far outside it, a static pulse crackled through the air. Soft at first, barely noticeable. Like an old radio tuning into something it was never meant to catch.

zzzzzt—kkkz—*zzzzKKT—kkkrrrk

“—how this story ends—”

*zzzzKKT—kkkrrrk*zzzzKKT—kkkrrrk

“—neither the queen knows—”

“—nor the princess.”

The sound deepened, twisting into something mechanical, glitching, like a voice that had been shattered and was now clawing its way into a world it was never meant to enter.

“—This is not the ending… they were promised.—”

The words fractured, layered in dozens of tones, young and old, human and not. The castle itself seemed to shudder. Somewhere far above, the moon blinked—once, twice—as though the sky itself had developed a glitch.

“—The rules have changed.—”

zzzzKKT—kkkrrrk—zzzzKKT—kkkrrrk zzzzKKT—kkkrrrk—zzzzKKT—

“—A new path is being carved.—”

“—This tale… is no longer theirs.—”

And then, everything became silenced.