The banquet hall of Maria Fortress was deliberately fashioned into a façade of false splendor.
The enormous crystal chandelier refracted a cold, piercing light, casting a dazzling glow upon the gilded reliefs and the crimson carpet.
Melodious court music flowed through the air, yet it could not mask the suffocating tension and oppression that seeped into every corner.
The nobles of the Empire and the Kingdom moved between the dance floor and the long tables like carefully painted masks.
They clinked their glasses with practiced smiles, speaking grandiloquent toasts that praised the hard-won “peace.”
However, at the brief moment their eyes met, it felt as if invisible blades were clashing in the air.
In the eyes of the Imperial nobles lay the restraint of victors and the scheming for the future; in the eyes of the Kingdom’s nobles, there burned the fire of humiliation, the sorrow for their lost homeland, and the deep-seated hatred for the “traitor” before them —
Every veiled accusation pointed toward the figure who had just stepped into the hall.
Eileen Raven.
When Eileen appeared at the entrance wearing the dazzling, almost burdensome ice-blue gown Fredrika had prepared for her, a brief and subtle silence fell over the hall.
Countless gazes instantly converged on her.
The Imperial nobles’ reaction was warm and enthusiastic.
Several richly attired counts and generals immediately approached, faces beaming with ‘sincere’ admiration.
“Miss Eileen! Your deeds are nothing short of legendary! The pride of the Kingdom!”
“The Savior of the Nation! Truly deserved! Your sacrifice has brought peace to both nations!”
“His Majesty has a keen eye! Miss Eileen, we look forward to your presence in the Imperial Capital!”
Amid the flattery was an unmistakable undertone of political investment.
Eileen wore a courteous, polite smile and nodded slightly, responding with the briefest words.
Her gaze was calm and unruffled, like two bottomless golden lakes, reflecting the eager faces before her but stirring scarcely a ripple.
She had long seen through the calculations behind these smiles.
On the Kingdom’s side, however, there was a cold, distant vacuum.
They huddled together from afar, their eyes filled with fear, hatred, or disdain, aimed sharply at Eileen.
Their whispered words hissed like venomous snakes, clearly audible:
“Traitor…”
“She brought the iron hoofs of the Empire…”
“Savior of the Nation? A joke! The shame of the Kingdom!”
“Nothing but Fredrika’s plaything…”
Eileen’s eyes swept over those familiar and unfamiliar Kingdom faces—those who once might have praised her, now only harboring hatred.
Within her, the anger, grievances, and pain that once roiled like a storm had now sunk like stones cast into the deep sea, stirring only the faintest, nearly imperceptible ripples before settling into silence.
She even felt a trace of absurd amusement.
It no longer mattered. She silently told herself. Let them live in the hatred and lies they have woven.
She was no longer the girl who could be wounded by the gaze of others.
“Hmph, a bunch of shortsighted and hypocritical pitiable fools.”
A slightly hoarse, mocking voice sounded.
Imperial Chancellor Otto, holding a wine glass, strode over to Eileen’s side, his hawk-like eyes sweeping disdainfully over the Kingdom nobles without concealment.
“They only see their immediate humiliation, blind to the tens of thousands of lives you saved from destruction with your own sacrifice. Miss Eileen, your sacrifice is wasted on these ignorant fools.”
Eileen turned to look at the iron-fisted old chancellor.
Her golden eyes held no anger, no gratitude for understanding, only a kind of almost pitying indifference.
“Whether it is worthy or not is not for them, nor for you to judge, Chancellor.”
Her voice was calm as still water.
“I did what I believed was right. The results, and others’ judgments of me, mean nothing.”
Otto paused, scrutinizing Eileen’s tranquil face.
In those eyes lay a weariness and insight far beyond her years.
The sarcasm on his face faded, and for a rare moment, genuine respect appeared as he nodded slightly.
“Miss, your nobility is admirable. It is I who misspoke.”
He saw in Eileen a detached aura—complete disregard for worldly praise and slander.
Eileen’s gaze instinctively searched the crowd for Fredrika’s figure, hoping to end this hypocritical exchange.
But her eyes unintentionally met a pair of eyes filled with overwhelming complexity.
Veil.
She wore a crisp Kingdom military uniform, a golden sash hanging from her chest, though the uniform seemed somewhat empty, making her frame appear even more slender.
The once spirited Crown Princess now bore an undeniable exhaustion on her face, the shadows under her eyes stark even under the hall’s bright lights.
She clearly hadn’t expected to meet Eileen’s gaze so suddenly and froze instantly.
Eileen’s heart clenched sharply, almost instinctively wanting to look away.
But it was already too late.
Veil seemed to have made a decision, took a deep breath, pushed through the crowd, and walked directly toward Eileen.
Her steps still carried the firmness of a soldier, but the trembling fingers betrayed the turmoil within.
She stopped before Eileen, ignoring Chancellor Otto’s probing glance and the sudden eerie silence that fell around them.
She extended her white-gloved hand toward Eileen.
Her voice carried a subtle hoarseness and a plea, clearly heard by Eileen:
“Eileen… for our last dance before parting… will you dance with me?”
The air seemed to freeze.
All eyes were fixed on the two of them.
The Kingdom nobles’ eyes reflected shock and confusion, while the Imperial nobles watched with amused anticipation.
Eileen looked at the outstretched hand, and into Veil’s eyes filled with an almost humble plea.
Her heart was a turmoil of emotions.
The public humiliation of her broken engagement, the trigger for the Kingdom’s downfall, and the carefully buried past grievances had not disappeared—only buried deep within.
A dance? In such a hypocritical setting, with someone who had deeply hurt her?
Separated by vast distances in the future, perhaps never to meet again…
This last farewell dance seemed to carry some kind of fateful meaning.
Just as Eileen hesitated, a voice like burning flame forcefully cut through:
“Eileen!”
Empress Fredrika, as if commanding the entire scene like a queen, parted the crowd and approached.
She wore an even more splendid and dazzling crimson gown, her scarlet eyes like burning gems locked firmly on Eileen.
She too extended her hand gracefully, a victorious smile on her face, her voice intimate and impossible to refuse:
“My ‘Savior of the Nation,’ shouldn’t the first dance belong to me?”
Suddenly, Eileen found herself caught between two powerful forces pulling her in opposite directions.
To her left was the haggard former love, reaching out with eyes full of complicated farewell and plea;
To her right was the passionate new sovereign, extending her hand with eyes of absolute control and declaration.
The entire banquet hall fell into a pin-drop silence.
Every gaze became an invisible pressure crushing down on Eileen.
As she felt suffocated and unsure of what to choose, a gentle yet resolute voice flowed forth like a clear spring: