The room appeared lavish: walls veined with light-fiber channels, a floating crystal chandelier suspended from the ceiling, and a smart-fiber carpet that shifted texture with each step.
To Helia, it was nothing more than a well-polished cage.
She sat before the mirror, unpinning her hair. With each graceful movement, her fingers traced barely perceptible runes through the air — a silence ward, a cloaking barrier, a backup escape glyph.
The mirror reflected her calm, elegant face — and her eyes, trained to betray nothing.
Elsewhere in the Security Core, Cael Thorne stood in front of a hovering display of surveillance feeds. With a flick of his fingers, he enlarged the image of her room frame by frame.
"She's either undergone elite-level training… or she's hiding something," he muttered.
"Or both," his AI assistant VERA responded softly, voice smooth as falling rain.
That night, the Starlight Kingdom's delegation attended the Federation's official welcoming banquet.
Under the arched dome of steel and glass, artificial lights shimmered across polished floors, silver clinked against crystal, and hollow laughter echoed like distant thunder. Helia walked in draped in a silver-white gown, drawing more than a few glances. But her gaze remained still, elegant, and composed.
Cael stood not far away in his deep-blue ceremonial uniform, gold insignia gleaming under the lights. Though he was the central figure of the event, his eyes were drawn again and again to the girl who stood apart from the crowd.
A group of young Federation women soon approached.
One blonde girl narrowed her eyes with a perfect smile. "I hear nobles in the Starlight Kingdom have ancient magic bloodlines. That must be… quaint, no?"
Another chimed in, "Yes, though magic's pretty much folklore here. Compared to that, our quantum-spirit implantation tech might seem a little… advanced?"
Their words were dripping with polished condescension.
Helia's expression didn't flicker. She tilted her head slightly and answered with a voice like cool moonlight:
"Indeed. True traditions are those that withstand time. As for your technology… well, it might make for a fine museum exhibit in five years."
Her tone was soft, almost indifferent — yet it cut cleaner than any blade.
The girls' expressions stiffened. But constrained by decorum, they offered stiff chuckles before excusing themselves.
From across the hall, Cael had been halfway through stepping forward to intervene. Seeing Helia's effortless composure, he paused — and smiled, slightly. Something unfamiliar stirred in his chest: a mix of admiration, curiosity… and a sliver of reluctant approval.
When the banquet ended, he didn't leave immediately.
Instead, he caught up with her as she walked toward the outer hallway.
"Still adjusting?" he asked casually, eyes scanning her profile.
Helia glanced at him. "The environment's controlled, efficient… You've built an impressive surveillance state."
He chuckled, not denying it. Then, after a beat, he gestured toward the glass bridge ahead. "Fancy a walk? I'll show you the real heart of the capital."
They walked across a skybridge high above the city. Below, light rails streaked through the darkness like comets, and high-rises gleamed like fallen stars.
Suddenly, Helia stopped.
Not far ahead, a small gray-and-white cat limped across the street corner, one hind leg shaking.
Cael frowned. "That shouldn't be possible. All stray animals were tagged and integrated years ago."
Helia knelt down beside the creature. A soft white glow bloomed in her palm — gentle magic weaving through the air. Slowly, the cat's wound began to close.
The feline lifted its head, weakly rubbing its cheek against her hand.
Something flickered in her expression. A softness — brief, faint, but unmistakably real.
Cael watched, then said quietly:
"You're not someone who lives only for the mission… are you?"
Helia rose slowly. Her expression had returned to calm, but there was a cold edge in her eyes.
She looked at him and gave a thin, almost mocking smile.
"Or maybe you're just too scared to admit… you like people who have warmth."
She turned and walked away, her silver gown billowing behind her like drifting cloud.
Cael stood there, then let out a low laugh.
But Helia… Helia was no longer smiling.
She was standing in a long, endless corridor bathed in white light. Her hands clutched a sealed envelope — she didn't know where it came from.
Ahead, a tall woman stood in front of a slowly closing steel door. The figure was blurred, but Helia recognized her instinctively: the older "sister" from her past, always kind, always brave.
She tried to call out, but her voice was gone.
"Kindness is a luxury," the woman said softly.
The door slid shut. A string of unintelligible code appeared on its surface — a fate she could never decrypt.
She looked down.
A bloodstained medal lay at her feet, cracked in half.
Shadowy, faceless figures began to gather. They whispered, closed in, pressed down — and though Helia clamped her hands over her ears, she still heard that woman's voice one more time:
"You did the right thing… But they won't see it that way."
Helia jolted awake.
The city outside was slowly waking. Cool dawn light leaked through the glass.
She sat on the edge of the bed, damp with sweat.
Her gaze dropped to her palm — as if she could still feel the jagged edge of that broken medal from her dream.
She whispered:
"I wasn't wrong."
Her voice was steady. But somewhere beneath it… something wavered.