After the etiquette officer left, Helya sat alone by the window, her gaze falling on the elegantly boxed gown resting quietly on the side table. It was silver-white, the fabric light as mist, dotted with shimmering points of starlight. Every cut was precise and restrained—neither ostentatious nor modest.
It was the standard formal attire for nobles of the Technological Kingdom, yet Helya had never worn anything that felt so… "real."
She glanced down at her hand. Her fingertips were slightly cold. Not from nerves, but from unease. It was just a banquet. She had attended countless state functions in the Magic Kingdom, even interrogations where she held the upper hand. But this time was different.
This time, she would be meeting the family of her "fiancé."
Snow had begun to fall outside. It was the coldest week of the year in the Technological Kingdom, known as the "Light Snow Festival"—a symbol of purity and reunion. She had read about it in the archives: the holiday commemorated a brief era of peace between the two kingdoms centuries ago.
How ironic. That peace had long been shredded by politics and war, and now she—an infiltrator—was being paraded as a symbol of harmony, stepping into the Cael family estate.
"It's time to go," her AI assistant gently reminded her.
She stood up, inhaled deeply, and began preparing. The dress wrapped around her with an almost magical fluidity. She tied her hair, fastened the fine earrings, and gave herself one final look in the mirror. The reflection was poised and serene, a perfect noblewoman. But she knew the truth—that behind those eyes hid a different world.
The transport hovered to a stop outside. Cael was already waiting, dressed in his formal military uniform, polished and impeccable. As she stepped out, his gaze lingered for a second, as if he wanted to say something—then simply said, "Let's go."
The ride was quiet. They sat behind the frosted glass, watching the snow-covered streets drift past. Finally, as they neared the upper districts, Helya broke the silence.
"Does your family know I'm coming?"
Cael turned slightly. "My mother personally approved the menu."
"And your father?"
"He only cares about national security." A pause. His voice softened a bit. "But you don't need to worry about them."
She nodded but said no more.
The estate sat atop one of the city's inner hills—a classic structure of old-tech nobility, austere and stately. Rows of mechanical guards stood at the gate, and every entrance was secured by facial and genetic scans.
As she stepped into that space of polished lights and curated elegance, her eyes briefly met those of a dignified middle-aged woman. The look was measured, not hostile.
That was Cael's mother.
"Welcome, Helya," the woman said with a graceful smile. "It's been too long since we had someone young in this household."
"Thank you for the invitation," Helya replied, curtsying just the right amount.
Cael remained at her side, his eyes sweeping the room with quiet vigilance. He knew this banquet wasn't just about his mother's curiosity—it could just as easily be a testing ground for whispers, for watching eyes and subtle probes.
After dinner, music swelled softly in the hall. Guests gathered in the dance area. Cael turned to her and extended his hand.
"Would you dance with me?"
She looked at him for a moment, then placed her hand gently in his.
And in that brief, unguarded instant, she understood: some roles cannot be evaded—and maybe, just maybe, they shouldn't be.