In an instant, Kione, Corvin, and Emilia reacted on instinct.
All three leapt forward, forming a shield in front of Margaret, their eyes sharp and alert.

Corvin raised his hand, magic energy swirling at his palm.
Kione and Emilia had already gripped the hilts of their weapons, ready to strike.

But Margaret stood still.
Her wide eyes were fixed on the shimmering key floating before her.

That afternoon, Margaret and her friends were escorted deep into the royal palace of Alanticia — a place where only members of the royal family were ever permitted to tread.

Contrary to the brilliance and beauty of the outer city, the inner palace was solemn, ancient… and carried an eerie stillness that weighed on every step they took.

After the bloodline verification at noon had confirmed the results, they were led to meet the Queen.

In a sealed chamber, Queen Alanthea of Alanticia sat motionless, like a statue carved from marble.
Her face no longer bore the calm dignity she was known for — it was pale, trembling, and filled with something between shock and fear.

Her eyes were locked on the Sea Key hanging around Margaret’s neck.

In a whisper barely audible, the Queen murmured to herself:

“Impossible… that key disappeared sixteen years ago…”

No one dared to speak.
The silence was so heavy that the sound of their own hearts seemed deafening.

Finally, the Queen rose from her seat, her deep gaze fixed on Margaret.
When she spoke, her voice trembled — yet carried a resolute certainty.

“You… are Princess Margaret del Alanticia — the only daughter of King Elrias and Queen Luria.
They were my elder sister and brother-in-law.”

The entire room froze.

Margaret’s mind went blank.
All sound faded from the world — only those words echoed endlessly inside her.

“Princess Margaret… del Alanticia…?”

She — the orphan girl who had grown up in an academy, believing she was abandoned —
was now being told she was a princess?

“Why… why was I in an orphanage? Why did no one come for me?” she whispered.

The Queen did not answer immediately.
She walked slowly toward a chest in the corner of the room, opened it, and lifted out a small wooden box wrapped in deep-blue velvet, sealed with ancient runes.

“Because… no one knew you were still alive,” the Queen said quietly.
“Sixteen years ago, someone invoked a forbidden spell — summoning dark wraiths immune even to holy power.
Your parents… sacrificed themselves that day.
This is the last fragment of the sealing ward left behind. I’ve kept it ever since — though it’s but a tiny piece.”

She placed the box on the table and gently slid it toward Margaret.

Inside lay:

• A piece of silk embroidered with the royal crest of Alanticia.

• A faded letter, the handwriting weak and trembling yet still legible.

• And a small portrait — a young couple holding an infant in their arms.

The woman in the picture had the same eyes as Margaret.

Her hands trembled.
She couldn’t speak.
The pieces… had finally fallen into place.

Even Kione and Emilia stood frozen in disbelief.

A quiet sigh broke the stillness — from Corvin, who had been leaning silently against the wall the whole time.

“Either way… it’s already too late,” he said, his calm tone barely hiding the weight in his voice.

The Queen didn’t argue.
She only gazed at Margaret, her eyes heavy with guilt and sorrow.

Later, the four were escorted to the guest quarters.

That night, in her room, Margaret sat by the desk, her hand resting on the old portrait.

Corvin spoke softly from across the room.

“You should try to get some rest.”

Emilia rose with a sigh.

“I’ll return to the estate tomorrow and tell my parents everything.
This… isn’t something we can keep secret anymore.”

Kione paused at the doorway, his expression thoughtful.

“I’ve got business back home too.
You’re the Duke’s foster son, right, Corvin? Then… stay here with her.”

And with that, he left — leaving Corvin and Margaret alone under the dim glow of the moonlight.