[ The Teleportation Chamber, Moonstone Palace
January 7, 1015 — Evening ]
Their footsteps echoed in the cold stone corridor leading to the palace's inner core. Here, the air felt heavier, permeated by invisible mana residue that pressed against the chest.
Rion walked ahead, his white robe fluttering softly in rhythm with his firm steps. Behind him, Revan followed in silence, like a loyal shadow clinging to its owner. There had been no conversation since they left the study. All instructions had been given, all scenarios laid out.
They arrived before a towering black iron gate, carved with ancient runes that glowed a faint purple. Two guards in full armor immediately bowed respectfully, opening the door without question.
In the center of the circular room, a giant magic circle was inscribed on the marble floor. Large mana crystals were embedded around it, humming softly, waiting to be activated.
Rion stopped right at the edge of the magic circle. He turned, looking at his cousin one last time before departing.
"Remember, Revan." Rion's voice broke the silence, his tone low yet sharp. "Don't let them see a crack. If Edward or Hideon asks, say I am undergoing a closed meditation to enhance my light affinity. A cliché excuse that those religious idiots will immediately believe."
"I will." Revan replied briefly.
Without a flowery farewell, Rion stepped into the circle. He raised his hand, channeling a bit of his golden mana into the air. Instantly, the runes on the floor blazed brightly. A dazzling light began to envelope the Prince's body.
In the blink of an eye, Rion's figure vanished. Only particles of light slowly faded away in the empty air.
Silence returned to the room.
Revan still stood in his spot, staring at the empty point where his cousin had just been. He didn't move immediately. His flat expression slowly softened, not becoming warm, but rather becoming more... weary.
He let out a long sigh, as if he had just released a heavy burden from his shoulders, only to immediately shoulder another, heavier one.
"To be a shadow, huh?" Revan murmured softly, his voice echoing off the stone walls.
He walked up to one of the room's pillars, leaning his back against it while folding his arms. His eyes gazed into the distance, staring at the dark stone ceiling.
Many people thought being Revan von Silverlake was a miserable position. The son of a fallen Archduke, living in the shadow of a genius cousin, serving as a deputy who could only obey. People often looked at him with pity, or sometimes, disdain.
They were wrong, Revan thought.
He knew his position. He knew his capacity.
Rion was the sun. Bright, burning, and blinding. But a sun that was too hot would incinerate everything near it if there was no atmosphere to protect it. That sun needed a filter. That sun needed gravity to keep it from exploding uncontrollably.
"This world is unfair, that's true." Revan whispered to the void. "My father died for this empire, and Rion... he was born with everything but hates everything."
Revan raised his hand, looking at his own clean palm—a hand that often had to get dirty to clear the way for Rion.
He wasn't envious. Envy was a child's emotion. Envy belonged to those who didn't understand how the world worked.
Since entering his teenage years, Revan had learned one thing: The Moonstone Empire was bigger than one person. Bigger than Rion, bigger than himself. If Rion was destined to be the Emperor who brought Moonstone to its peak of glory—even if through cruel means—then Revan would be the foundation supporting him.
He didn't need applause. He didn't need to be worshipped as the Savior. He was content to be Revan, the administrator, the balancer.
"You can play your romance drama, Rion." Revan said, straightening up. He adjusted his slightly crooked coat collar. His gaze returned to sharp and cold. "While you're gone, I'll make sure your throne isn't eaten away by the termites at the Academy."
With steady steps, Revan turned and left the teleportation chamber. There were no complaints, no drama. Just a duty to be fulfilled for his homeland.
---
[ The Marquess Estrella Residence, Eastern Territory—Night ]
In a spacious room dominated by peach and gold colors, the strong scent of roses wafted from aromatherapy candles lit in every corner. Silk curtains hung down, covering the large windows, creating an intimate and secluded atmosphere.
On the king-size bed piled with goose feather pillows, a girl was tossing and turning restlessly. Her long legs kicked the air, while her face was buried in a thick, black leather-bound book.
Sylvia von Estrella.
The only daughter of the Marquess Estrella had beautiful honey-brown hair, now slightly messy due to her antics. Her ruby irises sparkled with enthusiasm, quickly scanning the lines of text on the novel's pages.
The book's title was clearly printed in gold ink on the cover: The Villain's Obsession: Chains of the Night.
"...and the Dark Duke gripped the princess's chin, staring at her with eyes that promised destruction and pleasure. Did you think you could run from me? he whispered, his voice hoarse and dangerous. I will burn this entire kingdom just to find you, and when I do, I will lock you away in a tower where only I am allowed to see you..."
"KYAAAA!"
Sylvia let out a muffled shriek, burying her face into the pillow. She bit her lower lip, holding back a wide smile inappropriate for a noble Lady.
"This! This is what I'm looking for!" she mumbled excitedly, lifting the book again. "Possessive! Crazy! And a little toxic! Ugh, why are men in the real world so boring?"
Sylvia placed the book on her chest, staring up at the chamber's ceiling painted with images of little angels. Her mind drifted to the figure of her fiancé.
Rion von Moonstone.
"Hah..." Sylvia let out a long sigh, this time a sigh of disappointment.
Rion was handsome. Extremely handsome. Probably the most handsome man on the continent of Lunaris. But goodness, he was boring.
Sylvia remembered their childhood. Back then, Rion was a sweet, obedient boy who always smiled politely. A child who never dared to break the rules. The perfect Good Boy.
It was Sylvia who was mischievous.
Once, when they were seven, Sylvia dragged Rion to sneak into the palace's back apple orchard.
"Come on, Rion, climb! The guard is asleep!"
"But Sylvia, that's stealing..."
"Just one fruit! Come on, don't be a scaredy-cat!"
And little Rion, with a frightened face, finally complied. They laughed together when they were chased by the guard dog. It was the liveliest moment Sylvia had ever seen from Rion.
But then, adolescence came. Rion was sent to intensive palace training, and Sylvia was taught how to be a graceful lady. They grew up, and their masks became thicker.
Now? Rion was the perfect man. The holy prince, polite, with smooth speech, and his smile... ugh, that angelic smile that made Sylvia want to vomit rainbows.
"He's too good." Sylvia complained to the teddy bear beside her. "If I marry him, my life will be so flat. Good morning, my Wife. Did you sleep well, my Wife?. No passion! No drama! I need someone who looks at me as if he wants to eat me alive!"
Ironically, Sylvia herself couldn't show her true nature either. In the eyes of the world, Sylvia von Estrella was an elegant, intelligent girl, a bit of a bookworm (history books, she claimed), and very polite.
"My Lady?"
A knock on the door made Sylvia jump in surprise. With trained, lightning-fast speed, she snatched her dark romance novel, slipped it under a pile of pillows, and grabbed a thick book titled Agrarian History of the Moonstone Empire, Chapter 4 which she had prepared as a cover.
She smoothed her hair, sat up straight on the edge of the bed, and put on a calm expression.
"Enter."
The door opened. An elderly maid entered, bowing. "Lady Sylvia, the Marquess calls for you in the main drawing room. His Royal Highness Prince Rion has just arrived."
Sylvia's heart pounded. He finally came.
"Thank you, Auntie. Tell him I will be down shortly."
After the maid left, Sylvia looked back at the mirror. She took a deep breath, changing her facial expression.
Her previously wild and fantasy-filled gaze vanished, replaced by a soft, slightly shy look. Her wide smile transformed into a polite, restrained curve.
"Alright, Sylvia." she whispered to her reflection. "Time to meet your Angel Prince. Be the sweet fiancée. Don't let him know you were just reading a scene where a Duke ties his partner to the bed."
---
The Main Drawing Room
The atmosphere in the Estrella residence's main drawing room felt stiff, although the room was warmly decorated. The fireplace was lit, casting an orange glow on the expensive mahogany furniture.
Rion sat on one of the single sofas, his back perfectly straight. Across from him sat Marquess Albert von Estrella—a middle-aged man with a thin, well-groomed, curled mustache and cunning eyes—and his wife, Marchioness Eleanor in a tight velvet gown, staring at Rion with great admiration.
"We are truly honored that His Royal Highness could spare the time amidst Academy duties," Marquess Albert opened the conversation, pouring tea into Rion's cup. "I hope the teleportation journey wasn't too tiring?"
Rion smiled. His legendary smile. "Not at all, Marquess. The desire to clear up misunderstandings gave me extra energy."
"Ah, of course. That rumor." Marchioness Eleanor fanned herself with a feather fan. "Truly dreadful. People nowadays just love to invent stories. How could our holy Prince have a secret affair with a rival country's princess? It's preposterous!"
"Exactly, Madam." Rion answered smoothly. Though in his heart, he was imagining the most efficient way to set that feather fan on fire.
"But..." Marquess Albert set down his teapot. His eyes sharpened. "Rumors are poison, Your Highness. And the antidote is not just denial, but concrete action. This marriage... must be concluded soon."
"I agree." Rion cut in quickly. He didn't want to linger on pleasantries. "That's why I am here. To finalize the date."
Just then, the drawing room door opened.
"Forgive my delay, Father, Mother... Your Highness."
Rion turned his head.
There, stood Sylvia von Estrella.
The girl wore a modest, long pale-blue dress, covered up to the neck. Her honey-brown hair was styled in a perfect chignon—an elegant low bun with a few strands intentionally left to fall softly along the sides of her face, giving an impression of grace but not stiffness. She approached with small, measured steps, her head slightly bowed.
"Sylvia." Rion greeted, standing up and taking her hand. He kissed the back of her hand—a cold, polite touch of skin. "You look well."
Sylvia lifted her face. Her ruby eyes met Rion's golden ones.
Rion's gold hair was neatly swept back with a few front strands allowed to fall naturally, framing his face—a style that looked elegant yet not rigid. Under the crystal chandelier light, his hair shimmered softly, adding to the holy impression that always clung to him.
Oh my goodness, he's shining. Truly like an angel illustration in a children's fairy tale book. Too dazzling. Too perfect. Boring. In Sylvia's mind.
Look at that gaze. Empty, innocent, and naive. She must spend her time reading love poems or embroidering handkerchiefs. Troublesome. In Rion's mind.
"You look well, too, Rion." Sylvia answered softly. "It's been a long time since last summer break."
"Please sit, dear," Marquess Albert patted the sofa next to him.
They sat down again. An awkward silence ensued before Rion decided to play the nostalgia card—a standard tactic to break the ice.
"Seeing the garden outside just now." Rion said, pointing toward the dark window, "reminds me of our childhood. Do you remember the apple orchard behind the old palace?"
Sylvia flinched slightly. Of course she remembered. It was her most exciting childhood memory, especially considering little Rion's innocent face, ugh.
"Of course." Sylvia smiled, this time a little more genuine. "I recall how... worried you were then. You were so afraid we'd be caught."
"I was a rule-abiding child," Rion chuckled softly. "And you were... a true adventurer, Sylvia. You were the one who forced me to climb that tree."
"I merely wanted the reddest apple, Your Highness," Sylvia countered subtly, though in her heart she was screaming: I wanted to see you break the rules, dummy! Be mischievous again!
"Well, childhood is beautiful." Marquess Albert cut in, impatient. "But now you are adults. And as adults, we speak of the future."
The Marquess's face became serious.
"The wedding will take place the day after tomorrow." the Marquess stated firmly. "Not in a usual chapel, but in the Sanctum Rosaria."
Rion raised his eyebrows. "Your family's Ancient Rose Temple? I thought that place was closed to outsiders."
"You are no longer an outsider," the Marquess replied. "That place is hidden, protected by our family's ancient magic. No church spies, no other nobles. Just us, and the blood oath that binds."
Perfect, Rion thought. The fewer who know, the better.
"And..." the Marquess added, looking at his daughter. "Sylvia has agreed. She wants an intimate wedding. And a sacred one."
Sylvia nodded gently, her face flushing. In truth, Sylvia's reason for agreeing to marry in a dark, ancient place like Sanctum Rosaria was because it felt gothic and resembled the setting of her favorite horror-romance novels. Marrying at an old stone altar surrounded by rose thorns? That was so aesthetic.
"If that is Sylvia's wish." Rion looked at his fiancée with a 'loving' gaze. "Then I will comply."
"Excellent!" The Marquess clapped his hands. "Then, rest. The west wing guest chamber has been prepared for Your Highness."
---
Guest Chamber Balcony, West Wing
Midnight
Rion couldn't sleep. He stood on his room's balcony, letting the cold night wind strike his face. His sleep robe billowed softly.
From here, he could see the vast, dark expanse of the Estrella family rose garden. Sharp thorns seemed to gleam under the moonlight.
"Two days from now..." Rion murmured.
The day after tomorrow, he would be bound. A ring, a vow, and a wife.
His initial plan was to make Sylvia a compliant puppet. But seeing the girl earlier—so calm, so polite, so ordinary—Rion felt the task would be too easy. And because it was too easy, it irritated him.
He saw no challenge in Sylvia's eyes. He only saw the obedience of a noblewoman educated to be a beautiful ornament beside her husband.
"Boring." Rion hissed. "At least Seraphina has fangs. This girl? She's just a sweet little rabbit."
Suddenly, Rion's sharp eyes caught movement on the opposite balcony—about ten meters from where he stood. Sylvia's chamber balcony.
The girl was there too. Wearing a long white nightgown. She was staring at the moon.
For a moment, Rion thought about greeting her. Playing the role of the romantic fiancé.
But then, he saw something strange.
Sylvia stretched her arms out toward the moon, then made a gripping motion in the air, as if wanting to crush the moon in her hands. Her facial expression... smiling? No, it was more like a smirk. A strange little smirk, as if she were contemplating an evil plan.
But a second later, Sylvia lowered her head, looking like the melancholic girl who was struggling again.
What was that? Rion frowned. Maybe just my imagination.
Across the way, Sylvia didn't realize she was being watched. She had just been imagining a scene where the novel's Heroine kidnaps the Prince and locks him in a dungeon.
"Ah, Rion..." Sylvia whispered to the wind, a sound that Rion couldn't possibly hear. "I hope after we're married, you'll show your true colors. Stop being the angel, and be the devil for me. Just once."
Two people stood under the same moon, separated by physical distance and a wide gulf of misunderstanding.
Rion, the Devil pretending to be the Angel.
Sylvia, the Wild one pretending to be the Lamb.
In two days, at the Sanctum Rosaria altar, their destinies would be locked. And this household game full of lies would begin.