The banquet had ended hours ago, but the aftertaste lingered—sweet for some, bitter for others.
Salira sat in the cold, gleaming carriage as it pulled up to the Hasrima estate. The moment she stepped out, she was met not with silence, but with booming laughter.
Her father, Marquis Hasrima, stood near the front steps surrounded by several noblemen, all dressed in deep velvets and arrogance.
"Salira, my daughter…" he bellowed, raising his glass. "You agreeing to marry Adam is the first ever good thing you've done in your entire miserable life!"
Laughter echoed around them.
"Finally, you understand! Alpher is Flora's. He always has been. He never looked at you, not once," he said with a grin as if he'd just given her a compliment.
One nobleman chuckled nastily. "Well, well. Two trash in one bin! At least now the Empire will have less to clean up."
More laughter followed.
But Salira stood still.
Her crimson gown rustled softly in the night breeze, her expression unreadable, her smile faint but sharp.
With measured steps, she walked toward them—unshaken, back straight, chin high. And then, in a voice as cold as winter silk, she spoke:
"With all due respect, Father… it's Prince Adam. Not 'Adam.' Let's not forget our manners just because we've found an audience."
The laughter died instantly.
The nobleman who had mocked her shifted uncomfortably, but Salira turned to him next, her smile untouched.
"And as for trash and bins…" she said sweetly, "are you perhaps talking about yourself?"
Gasps rippled through the group.
Salira didn't flinch. "Because if you are… then it's not just two, is it?" Her gaze swept across them all like a blade. "It's a lot."
Silence.
Then she stepped back, letting her final words settle like dust on silk.
"As for me and Prince Adam…" she tilted her head, her eyes gleaming like emerald fire, "we're not trash. We're two puzzle pieces—the ones at the very end of a masterpiece. The ones you need to complete the picture."
She gave one last bitter-sweet smile, the kind that stayed long after it vanished.
"And the most important ones are always misunderstood… until the end."
And with that, she walked away, not sparing them a second glance.
Let them whisper.
Let them stew.
Because this time, she was rewriting the story.