❈.❈.❈

This place is huge. Of course it is.

G6 walked through endless halls toward the garden, the stone cold under her thin soles. "How much longer? These heels are a tactical liability," she grumbled, hiking up her skirts.

"Lady Reise, a lady does not hike her gown."

If this exhausting woman saw my old wardrobe, she would probably die of a heart attack.

"We are here." Tina nodded toward a distant gazebo.

G6's stomach tightened. Nerves? No. Adrenaline dump. Standard.

She took a slow, controlled breath, releasing the tension.

In the gazebo:

Earl, son of the Second Pillar (Nocturne), Earth Magic.

Keith, son of the Third Pillar (De Lune), Water Magic.

Eliza, the "Blessing of Prosperity" commoner.

And the man in the stunning black suit—Prince Dio. Fire. Her fiancé.

The gazebo fell silent as she arrived.

Pink silk gleamed like a warning. Her steps were measured, quiet. Her grey eyes swept the scene—assessment, not awe.

Prince Dio's polite smile stiffened. Since when did Reise walk like that?

G6 stopped at the bottom step, as if hitting a wall.

Eliza looked down, her face a mask of polite curiosity laced with condescension.

Three men. All in black. Who is the prince?

Her fingers twitched for a missing gun.

In the book, Dio was "stunning in black with fire in his eyes."

They are all in black! Is this a funeral or a fashion statement? Do nobles spontaneously combust?

Crest pins. Tina said they always wear them. She squinted. How the hell am I supposed to know each family crest?

Fine. The most arrogant one is usually in charge. Gamble.

Her eyes landed on the man beside Eliza. Bingo.

A full minute of silence stretched, thick and awkward.

Then it was over. She lifted her chin and ascended as if nothing had happened.

She smiled. It was a cold, sharp thing. "Sorry. I was prioritizing," she said, her tone arrogantly flat.

The two men—Earl and Keith—snickered. Prince Dio remained unmoved, but his eyes tracked her.

Keith and Earl, whispering:

Keith: "Ten gold says she flips the table in three…"

Earl (sipping tea): "Two. She has been pent up."

G6 scanned the seats. She walked past the empty chair beside Prince Dio and took the one opposite him, next to Earl.

Record scratch.

Prince Dio's teacup halted. Keith's water droplet, which he had been idly floating, plopped into his lap. Eliza looked almost… disappointed.

What are they staring at? Do not drag me into your soap opera.

Oh. Desserts. Tina did not feed me breakfast. Is this a starvation tactic?

She pointed at the cupcake in front of Keith. "You. Hand that over."

Keith blinked. He looked at the cupcake, at G6, at Prince Dio. A slow, familiar smirk spread across his face. He picked it up, dangling it. "Reise, darling. Is that how you greet someone after three years? Forget your place? Or just saving your energy for your real purpose here? Swooning? Fainting?" He glanced at Earl. "The vital work of the strongest pillar."

He is starting. My hand wants a trigger.

G6's eyes locked onto his. No flicker. "My purpose is that cupcake," she stated, voice devoid of heat. "The magic word is 'now.'"

Silence. The taunt died in the air.

Earl snorted, disguising it as a cough. Keith's grin widened. New game.

He placed the cupcake before her. "By all means. Would not want to interfere."

G6 took it and bit in—a huge, ungraceful bite. Pink frosting smudged her cheek.

Earl reached over with a napkin. G6 slapped his hand away, not looking at him. "Keep your hands to yourself. Not everything pretty is meant to be touched." Her tone was a warning. Final.

The silence returned, heavier.

Keith, ever the instigator, leaned in. "By the way, Reise… notice the lady sitting beside your fiancé? Miss Eliza. The one with the lost magic." He gestured like a ringmaster.

G6 finally looked at them. Prince Dio watched her, eyes empty. Eliza offered a strained, fearful smile.

"Yo. I am Reise," G6 said, wiping frosting from her cheek.

Eliza flinched. "Y-yo…?" she whispered, utterly lost.

Prince Dio's cup lowered slowly. His bored eyes were now sharp, focused.

Keith pounced. "Are you not going to ask what a commoner is doing here? Or why she is so close to your beloved?" He smirked. "I would have thought you would be… jealous."

Inner Tina, from the stairs: He said the J-word. Brace.

All eyes on G6. This was the moment. The old Reise would have shattered.

G6 finished her bite. She wiped her fingers with efficient, clean strokes. She looked at Keith, then Eliza, then Prince Dio.

"Jealous?" she repeated, cool as glass. "Of what, exactly?"

Keith blinked. "Her… proximity to your fiancé?"

G6's gaze swept over Prince Dio—a quick, dismissive assessment. She looked back at Keith as if he were stupid. "If a title and a pretty face were enough to steal him, he would have been stolen a hundred times. He is a prince. It is his job to have options."

She took a slow sip of tea, holding the cup with an unconscious, innate grace that clashed with her words. "Policing his seat is a waste of energy. If he wants to be stolen…" She shrugged, a minute, elegant movement. "…let him. It just proves his poor taste. Saves me future annoyance."

Atomic silence.

Earl's biscuit slipped and shattered on his plate.

Keith's mouth hung open.

Eliza looked poleaxed.

Prince Dio stared. The sheer, brutal logic of it. The cold pragmatism. It was not love or hatred. It was a challenge. An assessment. She had called him an annoyance and a man of poor taste, and made it sound reasonable.

His lips parted. No sound.

Nailed it. Dominance established. Also, this tea tastes like lawn clippings.

Inner Tina, mentally shredding her resignation letter: …She has a point.

Keith whispered, awed. "Earl. My entire purse. She just called the King's son a future annoyance to his face."

Earl was scribbling on a napkin. "Subject demonstrates radical shift in value assessment. Hypothesis: possession by a hyper-logical entity."

G6 ignored them. Her eyes fell on the teapot. A delicate, ugly thing. She picked it up, not by the handle, but by its body, testing its weight.

Inner Tina: No. Do not—

"This is a terrible design," G6 announced to the gazebo. "Center of gravity is wrong. One clumsy servant and it tips. Probably on me." She looked at Tina. "Tell them to get a new one. Lower. Wider base. Function over form. Save the servant their head."

She set it down with a soft clink that echoed.

Prince Dio's voice was rough. "Reise… what has gotten into you?"

G6 met his eyes. Her gaze was empty. Calm. Like the sky before a storm.

"Fuck of—" she began, and reached for a scone.

"Ahem!" Tina cleared her throat.

"I mean, clarity?" G6 finished.

The gazebo was frozen. A painting of shock with a pink-clad enigma at its heart.

Prince Dio could not look away. The silence she left was thick, heavy. For the first time in a decade, he was the one watching, waiting for a glance that never came.

He watched her hands—steady as a surgeon's. He watched her assess the pastries, the air itself, with a killer's calm. The old Reise was fire. This was obsidian.

G6 did not grant him a look. She finished her scone, wiped her fingers with surgical precision, and stood.

"The tea was subpar. And this is boring," she stated. A verdict, not an insult. "Tina. We are leaving."

"Leaving? You have barely been here for over ten minutes," Earl said.

"Yes, this tea party arranged by Her Majesty is for us dwellers of the West Villa to get along," Keith added.

G6 shot them a cold glare. "Then tell Her Majesty I have no time to waste on pleasantries. I would rather count all the greens in this garden than waste my time with you all." She said and walked away.

Without a backward glance, the Wicked Rose turned her back on the Prince.

They were all too stunned to say a word.

G6 had just declared that the plants and trees in this garden were more valuable than them.

In short, they were insignificant.

A stunned servant, frozen by her exit, flinched. The teapot—the "terrible design"—slipped.

It shattered on the gazebo floor.

The sound broke the spell.

In the chaos, G6 did not startle. She paused, glanced at the mess, then back at Prince Dio.

Her look held no blame. No pity. Just cold, silent validation.

I told you so.

Prince Dio remained, staring at her empty chair. The silence, the scent of spilled tea, and the first spark of obsessive fascination were all she left behind.

From the hedges, a scullery maid turned and fled. The news would spread faster than the china shards were swept:

The Wicked Rose did not scream. She did not cry. She predicted the future and left the Prince in her dust.

(2/2)

—To Be Continued…—