Freya got off the carriage and walked toward the dormitory.
Just as she reached the bottom of the stairs, a figure pounced on her.
It was Lyra.
She was clutching the now stone-cold snack paper bag, her crimson eyes red with tears, looking like a puppy abandoned by its owner.
“Boss!”
She grabbed Freya’s arm tightly.
“You’re back!”
Freya looked down at her.
She looked at her reddened eyes and the small wolf fang peeking out due to her excitement.
She saw the face that was practically screaming, *’I missed you so much.’*
Freya was silent for a moment.
Then, she reached out and gently ruffled that fuzzy head.
“Yes. I’m back.”
Lyra rubbed against her hand before looking up to examine her intently.
“Are you okay? Did that Emperor bully you?”
Freya shook her head.
“No.”
Lyra let out a sigh of relief.
Then, she suddenly remembered something and shoved the snack paper bag into Freya’s arms.
“This is for you!
I bought it this morning, so it’s cold now…
But it’s still edible!”
Freya looked down at the paper bag.
She fell silent.
Then, she let out a soft laugh.
The smile was very faint—so faint it was almost invisible.
But Lyra saw it.
She froze for a second, then grinned widely, her eyes curving into two crescents.
“Boss smiled!”
Freya withdrew her smile and turned to head upstairs.
“No, I didn’t.”
“You did! I saw it!”
“You saw wrong.”
“I didn’t see wrong! Boss, you smiled!”
Their voices gradually faded, disappearing at the end of the stairs.
—
In the distance, behind a window of the classroom building, someone withdrew their gaze.
Serar stood by the window, his long ice-blue hair fluttering gently in the breeze.
His deep blue eyes were filled with an indescribable emotion.
He gazed at the closed dormitory door, the corners of his lips curving slightly.
“So it really is her,” he whispered.
His voice was very soft, light as a falling leaf.
“This time, I will not miss out again.”
Deep within the Imperial Palace, by the window of the Queen’s Palace, the afternoon sunlight filtered through the thin gauze curtains.
It spread a soft, warm hue across the floor.
Vanessa sat at her vanity, her posture elegant and relaxed.
She kept her head lowered, focused on using a small brush to dip into deep red nail polish.
She applied it to her perfectly manicured nails, bit by bit.
Her movements were slow and meticulous, as if she were completing a delicate piece of art.
The air was filled with the faint, distinct scent of nail polish mixed with her usual incense.
It created a languid and luxurious atmosphere.
“Your Highness.”
A maid’s voice came from outside the door, soft and respectful.
Vanessa’s hand did not stop; she remained focused on her task.
“His Majesty summons you.”
The small brush paused for a fraction of a second.
The Queen’s brow furrowed slightly before smoothing out again.
She looked up at her reflection in the mirror.
A hint of confusion surfaced on her well-maintained face.
At this time?
She set down the small brush and picked up a soft silk cloth, gently wiping away the excess polish from her fingertips.
“I understand.”
Her voice was calm as usual.
But deep within her blue eyes, there was a nearly imperceptible ripple of unease.
The Emperor rarely summoned her at this hour.
Especially since she had just met with Freya today.
A faint sense of anxiety quietly crept into her heart.
—
The doors to the Main Palace slowly closed behind her.
Vanessa stood in the center of the hall, looking at the man seated high upon the throne.
Cyrus Caste.
The ruler of the Caste Dynasty, her husband, and Ross’s father.
He sat there, his short golden hair combed impeccably.
His red eyes were looking down at her from above like a sleeping lion.
Even without making a move, he exerted an invisible pressure.
Vanessa performed a slight bow, her posture elegant and standard.
“Your Majesty.”
She did not rush to speak, simply standing there quietly, waiting.
Cyrus watched her.
He watched her for a long time.
His gaze was heavy, carrying an immense weight.
“Today—”
He finally spoke, his voice deep and commanding.
“You summoned Freya Christo Dale.”
It was not a question.
It was a statement.
Vanessa’s heart sank slightly.
But her face remained unchanged, still wearing that gentle and appropriate smile.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
She admitted it frankly.
Cyrus’s fingers lightly tapped the armrest of the throne.
Thump.
Thump.
The sound echoed through the empty hall, dull and oppressive.
“Why?”
His voice remained low, but Vanessa’s ears caught a hint of something—an anomaly—beneath that deep tone.
Vanessa tilted her head up slightly to meet his gaze.
“I simply wanted to chat with the young girl from House Dale.”
Her voice was soft and natural.
“After all, her mother is an old acquaintance of mine.
She has been enrolled for so long, yet I haven’t had the chance to speak with her properly.”
She paused, the smile on her lips deepening slightly.
“I happened to be free today, so I sent someone to invite her for a visit.
To drink some tea and chat; it was nothing more.”
Cyrus did not speak.
He only looked at her.
Inside those red eyes, something was churning.
Silence.
A long, drawn-out silence.
Then—
***BANG!***
Cyrus’s palm slammed heavily onto the armrest of the throne.
The sound was like a crack of thunder exploding in the hall.
Vanessa’s body stiffened slightly.
She looked at the Emperor.
She looked at the fury that was now undisguised on his majestic face.
“FOOLISH!”
His voice rose, carrying an uncontrollable rage.
“What are you doing, seeking her out at a time like this!”
The Queen’s brows knitted together.
She looked at the Emperor, her blue eyes filled with confusion.
“Your Majesty…”
Her voice remained steady, but it held a hint of testing.
“I do not understand…”
“You don’t understand?”
Cyrus stood up and descended from the throne.
His steps were not fast, but each one carried an invisible pressure.
He stopped 3 steps in front of the Queen.
Those red eyes stared straight at her.
“You think I don’t know what you’re thinking?”
His voice dropped, yet it was more terrifying than his previous roar.
“You think I can’t see what you’re planning?”
Vanessa’s expression shifted slightly.
However, she still stood tall.
“Your Majesty—”
Her voice was still gentle.
“I only wanted to…”
“To what?”
Cyrus interrupted her.
“To test her?
To see if she’s the ‘suitable daughter-in-law’ you imagined?
Or—”
He paused, his gaze as sharp as a blade.
“To pave the way for Ross?”
Vanessa’s lips moved slightly, but no words came out.
Cyrus looked at her expression and let out a cold sneer.
“You keep everything from me.”
He said.
“You think I don’t know about your private dealings with that transfer student—
Irina, was it?
Vanessa’s pupils contracted slightly.
“You think I don’t know who’s backing her Mutual Aid Society?”
The Queen’s fingers slowly tightened.
“You think I don’t know you called Freya here today to test her attitude toward Irina?
And while you were at it—”
He paused, a cold smile appearing on his lips.
“To put a little pressure on her?”
Vanessa fell silent.
She knew that any defense would be futile at this point.
Since the Emperor had spoken so plainly, it meant he had far more evidence than she had imagined.
But she still didn’t understand.
She didn’t understand why he was so furious.
“Your Majesty—”
She began, her voice still steady.
“Everything I do is for Ross, for House Caste.
Freya Christo Dale was born into a noble family and possesses extraordinary talent; she is the most suitable candidate for Crown Princess.
I only wanted…”
“Wanted what?”
Cyrus interrupted her again.
“Wanted her to be obedient?
Wanted her to follow your arrangements?
Wanted her to become a stepping stone for Ross to ascend the throne?”
Vanessa pressed her lips together tightly.
Cyrus looked at her, complex emotions swirling in his red eyes.
“You have no idea—”
His voice suddenly dropped, as if he were talking to himself.
“Who she is.”
Vanessa was stunned.
She looked at Cyrus.
She saw an expression on his face that she had never seen before—
It wasn’t anger, and it wasn’t authority. It was something deeper and more complex.
It looked like wariness.
Or perhaps—reverence?
“Your Majesty…”
Her voice trembled slightly.
“What do you… mean by that?”
Cyrus did not answer.
He simply turned around and walked back toward the throne.
After a few steps, he suddenly stopped.
He did not look back.
“Don’t touch her again.”
His voice came from ahead, deep and commanding.
“This is my final warning to you.”
Vanessa stood frozen, watching his retreating figure.
Enormous waves were crashing through her heart.
The words the Emperor had just spoken—
“You have no idea who she is.”
Who was she?
Freya Christo Dale was just a teenage girl; who else could she be?
But the Emperor’s expression, his warning, and his unprecedented attitude…
Vanessa suddenly felt a chill run up her spine.
She recalled Freya’s performance in the Main Palace today.
That calm gaze, those airtight answers, and those words that seemed innocent but were full of thorns.
And that final smile.
That smile—
Vanessa closed her eyes.
That smile and the Emperor’s expression just now were inexplicably similar.
They both had that kind of look that hid something.
—
A deathly silence fell over the hall.
Cyrus sat back down on the throne and closed his eyes, looking utterly exhausted.
Vanessa remained where she stood, motionless.
After a long while, she spoke, her voice as raspy as sandpaper.
“Your Majesty…”
Cyrus did not open his eyes.
“Leave.”
Vanessa opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but ultimately swallowed her words.
She bowed slightly, turned, and walked toward the door.
As she reached the door, Cyrus’s voice suddenly came from behind her.
“Remember my words.”
Vanessa’s footsteps faltered.
“Don’t touch her again.”
The doors closed behind her.
Vanessa stood outside the doors, looking at the light-filled window at the end of the corridor.
The sunlight was lovely and warm.
But her heart was as cold as ice.
—
Inside Moonlight Hall, Vanessa sat alone at her vanity.
The bottle of nail polish in front of her was still open, its faint scent lingering in the air.
However, she no longer had the heart to continue painting.