Alexia lunged, her sword slicing through the air.
Lucius met her attack with ease, his movements fluid as he parried.
Frustrated, she shifted tactics, swinging a sharp kick at his face.
He didn't dodge.
Instead, he caught her leg effortlessly and swept her off balance.
Alexia barely had time to register her fall before a strong grip yanked her forward—straight into Lucius's embrace.
Their breaths mingled, both flushed and covered in sweat.
She grimaced. "Gross."
Lucius only tightened his hold. "Delicious."
Alexia, too busy wriggling free, didn't catch the whispered word.
"Can I go now? I need a shower."
Lucius tilted his head. "Can I join you?"
She recoiled. "Of course not!"
He sighed, as if put upon. "Well, then, that's my answer."
Alexia groaned, pushing at his chest. "Lucius, let me go!"
But the smirk on his lips said it all—this wasn't about winning anymore.
Alexia kept shifting in his arms, oblivious.
Lucius' golden eyes darkened as he watched her, her damp hair sticking to her flushed face, breaths shallow from exertion. His fingers unconsciously traced along her back, slow and deliberate.
His breathing hitched. Subtly, almost imperceptibly, it quickened.
His grip tightened.
His gaze locked onto her—intense, unblinking. His tongue flicked out, wetting his lips as if in thought.
Then—she scratched him.
Right across the neck.
Lucius blinked.
And just like that, his grip loosened. Alexia tumbled to the ground with a startled yelp.
Lucius exhaled sharply, schooling his expression back into something eerily calm. He turned to face her, golden eyes unreadable.
"...Sister. I have something to do. I'll visit you later."
A short bow, a fleeting glance—then he strode away, his movements controlled, but his pace? Slightly rushed.
The door clicked shut behind him.
A beat of silence.
Then—
[ Host? ]
"Hmm?"
[ ...Pray. ]
***
Lucius lay on his bed, still damp from his third shower.
The memory of the training match refused to fade, replaying in his mind with disturbing clarity. His fingers twitched. His jaw clenched.
His body still felt…off.
He exhaled sharply, rolling onto his side, golden eyes narrowing at the tiny traitor curled up near his pillow.
"Inferno," he muttered. "Do you understand?"
The small black cat stretched lazily before turning his back on Lucius, tail flicking dismissively.
"Meow."
Lucius scowled. Even his cat had abandoned him.
A hesitant voice broke the silence.
"Your Majesty, do you need assistance?"
Lucius sighed, glancing at the young maid standing nervously by the door. Her cheeks were flushed, her hands neatly folded in front of her.
He paused. Then, slowly, his expression brightened.
"Can I ask you something?"
The maid stiffened, clearly caught off guard. It wasn't every day the Crown Prince—this Crown Prince—asked for advice.
"O-of course, Your Majesty. I'll do my best," she said with a quick curtsy.
Lucius tilted his head, golden eyes locked onto her with unsettling focus.
"What does it mean when being around someone makes you feel…hot?" His fingers pressed against his flushed cheeks as he mulled over his words. "Like you want to do something to them—something that feels... sinful."
The maid's face exploded into red.
Lucius continued, unbothered. "Is it normal? Do people live like this?"
The maid, now visibly shaking, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"W-well, Your Highness... you might be in love," she stammered.
Lucius blinked. "Love?"
"Yes!" she squeaked. "The kind of love where you—where you might want to start a family with someone!"
Silence.
Lucius sat perfectly still. Processing.
Then—
"...I see," he said, voice neutral, but his fingers twitched against the silk sheets.
Another beat of silence.
Then, very quietly—
"...I need another shower."
The maid hesitated, then, gathering her courage, stepped forward.
"Your Highness, if... I can help you."
Lucius blinked. Help?
His brows furrowed. But I don't want to start a family with her...
Still, he quickly smoothed his expression, forcing a warm smile that clashed with the heat rising to his face.
"I appreciate the offer," he said, voice calm—just before he abruptly stood. "But I must... cleanse myself."
Then he turned and bolted.
"Urgently."
***
Alexia sat on her bed, arms crossed.
Her room was quiet. It was almost never quiet.
She frowned, deep in thought.
"...I think there's something wrong with Lucius," she muttered.
[ Host, you are the next genius of the century. ]
"Hermes, I'm being serious."
[And I'm being logical, Host.]
Alexia huffed. "First, he dropped me—which he hasn't done in a while!" She held up one finger, pacing.
[Host, have you ever been in a relationship?]
She ignored that. Irrelevant.
"He was clearly panicked." She raised a second finger.
[Host, your brother will fully become an adult this year.]
She barely registered the comment, too deep in thought. "And he was way too formal. Even for him!" A third finger went up, followed by an exaggerated hand gesture.
[Host, have you ever wanted to be with someone?]
Alexia stopped.
"...No."
A beat.
"I know."
Another beat.
"...No. Why?"
[Host. What was that?]
She frowned, hands on her hips. "I'm answering your questions. Duh."
[Host, I give up.]
Alexia flopped onto her bed with a sigh.
"Whatever. I'll just wait for him to come find me."
Her gaze drifted to the balcony, where the setting sun painted the sky in warm hues.
"He always does."
***
Alexia sat stiffly as yet another maid fussed over her hair.
"He's not coming," she muttered flatly, allowing herself to be used as a human doll.
On normal days, she could slip by unnoticed. But today? No such luck.
One maid styled her hair, another adjusted her dress, one polished her shoes to a blinding shine, and two worked on her nails with near-military precision. A delicate brush swept across her face, dusting her skin with just the right amount of color.
And, of course, she'd already been soaked in a luxurious scented bath for two whole hours. The massage had been nice, but the aftermath?
She sighed.
[Host will finally look like a proper princess.]
Alexia rolled her eyes.
" Your highness, you'll ruin the makeup with all this scowling." A maid commented, torturing an innocent handkerchief.
" Yes your highness, All the nobles from over the land are here for your birthday banquet. The least you can do is make a proper impression."
" And your highness, has a wide range of quality princes for possible suitors."
Alexia acted like she couldn't hear them, she was dead to the world.
" Princess Alexia, what head piece would like?" A maid asked, bringing a tray of expensive ornaments.
"Princess Alexia, which headpiece would you like?" a maid asked, presenting a tray of exquisite ornaments.
Alexia said nothing. Her gaze drifted past the shimmering crowns and jeweled combs, settling on a humble ruby tiara resting on her dressing table—overlooked, forgotten.
She pointed at it.
The maids followed her gesture, then collectively gasped.
"Your Highness!" they protested, scandalized.
Alexia remained unimpressed. "Between you and me, who's the master?" Her tone was calm, but firm. "I choose. You advise—not object."
A few maids blushed, looking suitably chastised, but she didn't waver.
The others returned to their duties as one maid reluctantly retrieved the tiara.
"Polish it and leave it for me," Alexia instructed, then turned away, already done with the discussion.
After what felt like an eternity, the maids finally stepped back, admiring their work. Alexia just sat there, numb.
"Princess Alexia, all that's left is your dress!" one chirped excitedly.
Alexia exhaled slowly. "Please leave."
The room went silent.
"Huh?" A few maids exchanged glances, as if they'd misheard her.
"Your Highness?"
"You did a wonderful job," Alexia said, finally standing. Relief seeped into her voice. "But I need a moment."
They hesitated—clearly torn between duty and common sense—before offering quick curtsies and slipping out.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Alexia sighed and made her way to the balcony.
The evening glow of Dawn City stretched before her, lights flickering to life, carriages rolling through the streets, laughter and music weaving through the air.
She leaned against the railing.
"I wonder what Mina and Michael are doing," she murmured.
A pause.
"I wonder what Mother's doing."
Her fingers curled against the cool metal.
"I wonder what... big brother's doing."
She exhaled, leaning forward.
"What am I doing?"
[ Being dramatic in your innerwear, Host. ]
Alexia blinked—then let out a small laugh.
"I guess I am."
She rested her head on the railing, watching the sky shift from gold to violet.
"Hermes... what do you think happened? He's not in his room, and he's suspiciously missing."
[ Why do you care so much, Host? ]
Alexia turned away from the sunset.
"Because... usually, he's the only one who celebrates my birthday with me." Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant. "Not strangers. Not people who despise me in secret."
She bit her lip. "I'm worried."
A beat of silence.
Then—
[ Host, you should probably find him. You don't have much time. ]
Her brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"
[ You have to leave at midnight. ]
Alexia stiffened. "Why?"
[ Fate, Host. We are ruled by fate. ]
"I'm not," Alexia shot back, storming into her room.
"I won't." Her voice wavered.
"I don't believe in the power of an inexistent goddess," she forced out, grabbing the ruby-red tiara. With stiff, deliberate movements, she shoved it onto her head.
Her breath came fast as she stared at her reflection.
Slowly, hesitantly, she raised a hand to the mirror.
Then she sighed.
"...Really?"
[ Host can't avoid fate. But she can shape destiny. ]
Alexia blinked. Inhaled. Exhaled.
"Okay."
She turned to her wardrobe.
Her fingers brushed past silks and velvets before stopping on it. The dress from the ancient temple.
"Happy birthday, Princess. Seventeen will look good on you."
The memory flickered.
"Princess?"
She shook her head.
Without hesitation, she pulled it on and walked out of the room, head held high.
Silence.
Then—
A rustle from beneath the bed.
Dust swirled in the air as a disheveled figure crawled out, coughing.
Lucius.
Dragging a hand through his tousled hair, he muttered, "I need help."
He pushed himself up, swaying slightly. Then he laughed—soft, almost breathless—as he took in the now-empty room.
"...Sister."
His knees hit the bed. He collapsed onto it.
A quiet chuckle. A whisper.
"What have you done to me?"
And then, as if nothing in the world was wrong—
"Happy birthday, Lex."