Prelude

Spring had already come, with flowers blooming all around. Although the weather had not fully warmed, many hardy blossoms in Cervantes City were already unfurling their leaves and opening their buds, gradually displaying their enchanting beauty. Unfortunately, such vibrant signs of life and warmth had not managed to lift the cold spell lingering over the Lacklison household—this was already Lilian’s fifteenth day of confinement. The family’s punishment for her actions had been announced five days ago; since the Aubrion family and Teresa herself had not pressed charges, the penalty was not severe. Some of her privileges as the legitimate daughter were rescinded, and her freedom was restricted in part.

Superficially, the loss seemed slight, but Lilian knew well she had made the family’s blacklist. Unless she found a way to redeem herself, she would soon face being ostracized—becoming the family’s laughingstock, her parents and siblings inevitably affected as well.

The gravity of the consequences had finally tamed Lilian—she was more well-behaved than ever before, her days reduced to a monotonous routine of “school and home,” life growing dull and lonely.

☆☆☆

Nans sat gracefully on a leather sofa, her posture serene and poised. Though her head was bowed as if reading, her eyes discreetly swept the room with measured glances. This was the Lacklison family’s small parlor, used for informal guests; she was here today to see Lilian. Though she had always known the Lacklisons were among Cervantes City’s oldest noble families, prosperous for generations, it was not until she actually entered the house that she truly understood what “aristocracy” meant.

Today marked her first formal visit to the Lacklison residence. Despite her longstanding friendship with Lilian, her friend rarely hosted guests at home. Had it not been for Lilian’s recent confinement, Nans doubted she would have set foot here for a long time.

Lost in thought, she was interrupted by a maid who entered and, after speaking briefly, led her towards Lilian’s chambers.

“Lilian, it’s been so long!” Nans greeted her warmly, embracing her as soon as they met.

“Nans…” Seeing her good friend, Lilian felt a wave of grievance rise within her. But she quickly suppressed it, replacing it with a smile as she continued, “I heard you went home recently. Why are you back already? Didn’t you stay a few more days?”

“It was nothing important,” Nans replied with a smile. “I finished my errands at home and returned right away. I brought back some special tea from my hometown—it has a unique flavor. I was thinking of inviting everyone for a tea-tasting soon. You must come and support me.”

“Who else will be there?” Lilian asked with interest.

Nans counted on her fingers and named a dozen people. As Lilian listened, her smile faded, her expression stiffened, and then her lips drooped and her gaze lowered, showing clear displeasure. Seeing this, Nans faltered, uncertain whether to ask what was wrong, afraid of upsetting her.

Lilian soon realized her own reaction and, feeling a bit embarrassed, explained, “If you’re planning a tea party in the next few days, it might not be the right time. In five days, the Duchess of Therstane will arrive in Cervantes. The city government is throwing her a grand welcome, and many people have been invited. Everyone’s busy preparing their outfits—no one’s in the mood for new tea right now. Tea keeps well; why not wait until after the Duchess departs?”

“The Duchess of Therstane!” Nans exclaimed in awe, her eyes wide with admiration. “Heavens, you’re so lucky! To actually see her in person… it’s just… incredible!”

Lilian, seeing Nans’s eyes alight with excitement and adoration, softened and said, “If you’re interested, you can join us. My brother and I both have invitations, and the invitation allows for a partner. I’ll ask my brother to take you in with us.”

“Oh, Lilian, you’re truly an angel!” Nans threw her arms around Lilian, practically bouncing with joy, her cheeks flushed. After all, who in the Empire hadn’t heard of the Duchess’s nobility and kindness? To be in the same room with such a distinguished and gentle person—it was no wonder Nans was so elated.

Once their excitement settled, the two girls spent hours discussing what to wear and how to style themselves for the ball, until a middle-aged maid discreetly indicated that it was time. In the past, Lilian would have scolded such an interruption, but this time she obediently ended the conversation and took on the role of gracious hostess.

Nans left Lilian’s room deep in thought, following the maid through the corridors towards the main entrance. Rounding a corner, she nearly collided with Avys Lacklison, dressed in riding attire. The smart cut of his clothes lent a rugged edge to his usual refinement, making him even more striking.

Nans curtsied. Avys returned a half-bow, then asked casually, “Here to see Lilian?”

“Yes.” Nans’s smile was sweet and tinged with shyness. “I was away at home for a while and only returned to Cervantes yesterday. I finally had time today to visit Lilian.”

Avys nodded calmly, stepping aside to let her pass, displaying perfect gentlemanly manners. Nans thanked him and continued on, her mind preoccupied with her upcoming attire and the chance to stand out—completely unaware that as she walked away, Avys watched her with a gaze deep and unreadable. The usual gentle smile on his face was absent, replaced by an expression cold and distant—nothing like the “Son of Sunshine” he was known as.

☆☆☆

Beautiful and rare cold-gold had been hammered into the thinnest of sheets, delicate enough that a mere breath could lift it. A brush, finer than a strand of hair, was tracing slow, intricate patterns across the metal. One by one, magical runes appeared, and as each was completed, the ink vanished, the symbols sinking into the gold, forming faint, exquisite patterns visible only in sunlight.

There were but twelve runes, yet for Teresa, it was a tremendous effort. By the seventh, her forehead was beaded with sweat; by the tenth, her hand had begun to tremble uncontrollably, refusing to obey her will. The last two runes she managed only by instinct, her mind almost blank—a precaution she had anticipated, which was why she’d saved the simplest symbols for last.

As the twelfth rune was completed, the gold sheet suddenly curled in on itself, folding and compressing, the runes stacking and pressing together. In moments, it had compacted into a coin, lying quietly on the table, a cold metallic glint playing across its surface.