After a few quiet seconds passed, all three—Silas, Victoria, and Maria—were now seated in the secluded corner of the library. The table, partially shielded by towering bookshelves and nestled against the wall, offered an illusion of privacy.
Maria, still visibly flustered from earlier, kept her gaze low, eyes fixed on the stack of books before her. Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of a page, though she wasn't reading—just trying to center herself.
Across from her, Victoria remained poised, her back straight as ever, legs crossed at the ankles. Her crimson eyes stayed locked on Silas, gaze intense, unwavering. She sat close, too close for comfort—clearly intentional.
Silas, meanwhile, leaned slightly back in his chair, his arms crossed casually, though the way his fingers tapped rhythmically against his forearm betrayed the underlying tension. Their proximity to each other made the air between them feel electric.
Victoria gave him a quick side-eye, her pupils narrowing slightly as her gaze traveled across his face, searching for the slightest twitch—anything to confirm her suspicions.
Silas returned the glance with his own sidelong look, cool and unbothered, eyes half-lidded with feigned boredom. They studied each other silently, the beginnings of a psychological chess match. A game of cat and mouse was beginning—neither of them quite sure who was which.
"So… where's the prince…?" Silas spoke first, his voice casual but deliberately placed. He aimed to pivot the tension away from himself—redirect the hunt before she sank her claws in.
Victoria didn't break eye contact. She waited a beat before responding, her tone clipped but calm.
"He had other errands to attend to."
Her posture didn't shift, but her gaze did—a slight narrowing, a quiet calculation.
"Quite usual for such an important figure," she added, the words cold but polite, her eyes never leaving Silas's face, watching, measuring, probing for any slip in his composure.
Maria spoke up then, her tone airy, but her eyes revealed a flicker of disappointment at the news. Her smile faltered just slightly at the edges, like a portrait with a crack running through the paint.
"Oh… that's unfortunate news…"
At this point in the game, Maria should already have a budding interest in the prince, which explained the subtle sag in her voice—an emotional dip masked under practiced politeness.
"Anyways… since the silence has been broken,"
She continued, placing her hands neatly on the table as she looked between them, clearly attempting to ease the odd atmosphere. "Do you two know each other…?"
Silas spoke first. He shifted in his seat, angling his body slightly toward the tall window beside him, the golden light brushing his features as he stared outside. He didn't acknowledge Victoria's hardened stare—pretending it didn't pierce the side of his head like a dagger.
"We met back at the gate when we first arrived…"
He paused, tapping a finger lazily against the table.
"But that's pretty much it."
Victoria's brow rose, a small arch of elegant suspicion. The memory of that moment replayed in her mind—how he'd known her name, the way he looked at her like they weren't strangers at all. Her crimson eyes sharpened.
"You called me by my name when we met at the gate. Not only that, you looked at me as if you already knew me…"
Silas's lips curled into a grin, one corner twitching upward.
Finally—a question he could answer without breaking stride.
Looks like she slipped.
Time to escape this little trap.
He thought to himself, smug satisfaction flickering behind his eyes before he spoke.
"Well… you're quite popular after all. Only daughter of the Phoenix family and all that," he said smoothly, reclining a bit further into his chair with mock innocence.
"Of course I'd know you."
Victoria's eyes trembled. The explanation was entirely plausible—and frustratingly airtight. Doubt began to sneak into her confidence. Her eyes darted briefly to Maria, then back to Silas, as her inner conviction wavered.
"That might work on dumb heroines, but it won't work on me—and it still doesn't explain what you did earlier!"
Her voice cracked—still quiet, but now carrying an edge of panic. There was something in her tone that hadn't been there before. Her mask of noble precision faltered.
For a moment, it wasn't Victoria speaking—but Suzuki, the person behind the heroine's mask. The girl who remembered Earth.
Maria watched them closely now, visibly more intrigued. Her head tilted slightly, golden eyes flicking between the two like she was following a tennis match.
"Did earlier…? What did Marcus do that got you so panicked?"
She asked, her voice dipped in innocent curiosity, like the classic dense heroine of a romance novel. Her wide eyes were round with naive intrigue, her expression guileless.
Silas met Victoria's stare head-on, a glint of challenge in his gaze now. He knew she couldn't say it—not outright. Not here. Not in front of Maria.
They were both anomalies in this world—enigma meeting enigma—and exposing that truth to a native would break the illusion. Stir chaos they weren't ready to face.
Checkmate, Suzuki.