[Ace's POV]
As we walked through the festival, side-by-side yet separated by a careful, unspoken distance, Ovelia remained quiet. Her wide eyes took in the spectacle—the glittering lanterns, the swirling dancers, the impossible variety of goods and foods—but her lips formed no requests. No demands. No expectations.
It was a stark contrast to other noblewomen I had observed, who would point and demand with the certainty of their station.
"I want that."
"Buy me this."
"Surely you can afford it, Your Highness."
The assumption of entitlement. The casual expectation that the world existed to serve them.
Ovelia asked for nothing.
I found myself offering anyway—a delicate silver bracelet here, a pair of earrings there, both from expensive boutiques and simple artisan carts. Her response was always the same: a soft, appreciative smile and a gentle shake of her head.
"Just seeing them is beautiful enough," she would say, her voice sincere.
