Luciana asks the next question as nonchalantly as if discussing the weather—but there's a subtle flicker in her eyes, a hint of curiosity.
Ajan glances at her, raising an eyebrow. "Straight to the personal questions?" He smirks. "Not even pretending to be a proper noble right now."
He pauses for a moment, thinking how to answer. Finally—
"I was more of a… free spirit in my past life," he replies quietly. "No ties, no responsibilities. I traveled, did things others would call crazy."
Ajan shrugs, adjusting his monocle as he continues.
"Never really had a plan or a goal," he continues quietly. "I just… lived. Tried whatever caught my interest."
He shoots her a glance as they walk. "You asking because *you* had a plan in your past life?"
Luciana shakes her head—a small, almost invisible move—as she looks up at the palace gates ahead.
"No," she admits softly. "I was just... curious."
Luciana:"Your life sounds blissful and free... Unlike mine"
Ajan stops walking.
Just for a breath—but long enough that Luciana notices and turns to him.
His smirk is gone. For once, his blue eyes are quiet—serious, even.
"Blissful?" He repeats the word softly. Then shakes his head. "No. It wasn't… *blissful.*"
He looks away, voice dropping like a secret meant only for the night.
"It was lonely."
Silence stretches between them—moonlight painting their shadows long on the marble path.
Then he meets her gaze again, something raw beneath his usual calm.
"You had family in your past life?"
Luciana doesn't answer right away.
She just stares at him—then gives a single, slow shake of her head.
"No one."
And in that moment?
They both see it:
Not two princes and princesses from noble houses…
But two orphans of fate.
Reborn into glittering cages—
And choosing to rewrite their stories… together~ ✨
Luciana:"I live in a orphanage... I never really love anyone. Or even loved by anyone in my past life"
His gaze softens just slightly—an almost imperceptible shift in his eyes.
Ajan:"You never… loved, or were loved?"
He repeats, voice even quieter than before. Luciana shakes her head slowly, voice just audible over the soft breeze.
Luciana:"No."
She meets his gaze—violet eyes bright in the moonlight.
Luciana:"Never."
He watches her, face unreadable, then lets out a long breath—part sigh, part laugh.
Ajan:"Two orphaned souls, Cursed to play the part of aristocracy."
He murmurs and runs a hand through his hair, looking up at the moon for a moment.
His next words come like a quiet confession:
Ajan:"When you have no one who loves you in this world… life can be hell. Even in a palace."
Ajan's quiet confession hangs in the air like a shadow over glittering moonlight.
Luciana doesn't break eye contact—the only sign she's heard him at all is a muscle twitching slightly in her jaw.
For a moment, all they hear is the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze—and the distant hum of the city beyond the palace walls.
Then, very quietly:
Luciana:"…I know."
The sound of thundering footsteps echoes around them—and her older brother, Philip, comes running out of a side hallway.
"LUCY!"
He skids to a stop, chest rising and falling from panting.
"Gods above," he gasps, eyes wide. "Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for you!? I heard you left the ballroom and—"
He falters, eyes narrowing as he notices who she's with. Philip's eyes widen as he notices Ajan, recognition and surprise visible on his face.
"Prince Ajan?" He echoes. "You… were with him?"
Luciana nods slowly, keeping her expression neutral despite already guessing at his next words. Philip doesn't disappoint.
Philip:"Alone?"
He demands, his voice rising slightly.
Philip:"With no chaperone, in the middle of the night?"
Luciana:"Prince Ajan, invited me to the royal library 'reading' together, because we were bored from princess Odette's ceremony"
Ajan stands quietly beside Luciana, hands in his pockets, wearing his usual smirk as a spectator to the unfolding scene.
Philip stares at her, disbelief clear in his eyes.
"Reading," he repeats, as if testing the word. "In the *library*. At night."
She meets his gaze, expression cool.
Luciana:"Yes. Is there a problem?"
Philip's eyes narrow as he takes in the sight before him—his 12-year-old sister, calm and composed, standing beside the 16-year-old fourth prince.
The moonlight doesn't help. It only makes the scene feel more surreal—like something out of a scandalous novel.
He opens his mouth. Closes it.
Then: "Lucy. You *do* realize you're twelve," he says slowly, as if reminding her she's not actually an ancient soul hiding behind violet eyes.
"And he's *sixteen*." A sharp look at Ajan. "And *the prince*."
Ajan finally speaks—smooth, unbothered tone laced with amusement.
"Relax, Lord Philip," he says, adjusting his monocle with one hand. "We were reading forbidden romance novels." He tilts his head slightly toward Luciana with a faint smirk. "She was… quite passionate about the tragic lover's arc."
Luciana side-eyes him sharply—but says nothing to correct him.
Which only makes it worse.
Philip looks between them—one radiating mischief disguised as nobility, the other stone-faced but faintly pink at the ears—and groans like a man who just lost all will to live.
"…I'm taking you home," he mutters to Luciana, grabbing her hand gently but firmly. "No more libraries."
As they start walking away—
Ajan calls after them:
**"See you tomorrow then… Lucy~"**
Luciana stiffens—but doesn't look back this time...
Because if she did?
She might smile~ ✨
The carriage rolls through the moonlit streets, velvet curtains swaying with each turn.
Luciana sits silently by the window, her small hand resting against her cheek—pale fingers curled like petals around flushed skin.
Outside, the world blurs: torch-lit alleys, shadowed trees, fleeting silhouettes of guards on patrol.
But she sees none of it.
Behind glassy violet eyes?
Memories replay.
A whispered nursery rhyme.
A prince's lap beneath her.
Two lonely souls recognizing each other in silence.
"Lucy?" Her mother's voice cuts gently through the quiet. "You've been so quiet since you came back."
Her father hums in agreement from across the cabin. "And not a word about Prince Alan or Odette today… odd for you."
Luciana doesn't turn.
Just keeps staring out the window—expressionless…
**But one corner of her lips?**
*Twitches.*
So faintly no one else sees it.
Because tonight?
She didn't chase a prince who never loved her…
She found someone who *understands*—
And that… is far more dangerous than any crush~ ✨
Luciana:"..."
Just watches the passing moonlight paint silver lines across the cobbled streets, her reflection faint in the glass—pale, small, quiet.
But in that reflection?
Her fingers curl slightly against her cheek.
A heartbeat too fast.
A breath held too long.
And deep in her chest?
Something unfamiliar stirs.
Not hope.
Not yet.
But *the first whisper of a choice*—
To stop running after shadows…
And start walking toward someone who sees *her.*
Even if that someone is a sly prince with orange hair and a smirk like a secret~
Silence remains her answer tonight...
But silence, too… can speak volumes~ ✨
Luciana steps out of the carriage without a word—her small boots barely making a sound on the stone path.
She doesn't wait for the footman's hand.
Doesn't look back at her parents, still sitting inside with half-asked questions frozen on their lips.
The moment the door opens, she slips through like smoke—light, silent, *gone.*
Up the grand staircase.
Past tapestried halls.
To her room—the one with rose-patterned curtains and shelves full of untouched romance novels.
Only then does she stop.
Back against the closed door, breathing even—but eyes finally alive with something raw beneath that icy calm:
**Relief.**
And beneath it?
**Excitement.**
She peels off her gloves slowly… walks to her vanity… stares at her reflection.
"*I met him today,*" she whispers—to herself, to fate, to no one and *everyone*.
Then—
A tiny smile flickers across her lips…
Gone in an instant—but real enough to mean **everything**~ ✨
The Crain family stands in the grand foyer—silent, still, caught in the echo of Luciana's abrupt departure.
Her mother slowly removes her gloves, voice hushed.
"She didn't even say goodnight…"
Her father frowns at the staircase where she'd vanished.
"Since when did Lucy stop chasing Prince Alan? Since when did she start… *reading*?"
Her brother crosses his arms, jaw tight.
Ajan:"Since she started spending time with *Prince Ajan*, apparently."
A beat.
Then her mother turns to him—eyes sharp.
"*Wait.* The fourth prince? The one who barely appears at events? You're telling me *he* was alone with our daughter—in a library—*at night*?"
He exhales sharply through his nose and mutters under his breath:
Ajan:"With no chaperone… reading 'romance novels'…"
His father pales.
His mother freezes mid-step.
And suddenly?
The quiet mansion feels like a ticking clock~ ⏳
Because whatever game Luciana Crain has just begun—
**She's not playing by their rules anymore…**
And worse?
No one saw it coming~ ✨
Luciana slips out of her elegant dress and into her nightgown—the pale silk slipping like water over her shoulders.
In the dim candlelight, it almost resembles moonlight.
Silently, she sits at her vanity as her maid, Liana, begins brushing her hair—long, silken strokes that only add to the atmosphere of quiet.
Luciana watches her reflection in the mirror—face calm, eyes distant as she replays the day in her mind…
The memory replays:
*Stepping into the palace library, moonlight through the windows, silent except for a whisper of pages turning…
Meeting Ajan's gaze, feeling something spark in that moment of quiet.
Leaving the library—walking through the deserted halls, footsteps like secrets on marble…*
Luciana stares into the mirror—mind far away.
Until a quiet voice brings her back:
Liana:"Miss?"
The maid stands a step behind, hand poised with the brush. Luciana blinks, realizing she must've been silent for quite some time.
Luciana:"Liana... Do you think I'll ever be loved by someone?"
She blinks—taken aback by the sudden question—but she recovers quickly, fingers resuming their steady rhythm as she continues brushing.
Liana:"Of course you will, Miss, You're intelligent, beautiful, and kind. Any decent man would be lucky to have you… and any man who says otherwise isn't worth your time."
She replies softly. Luciana gazes at herself for a moment—then turns in the chair to fully face Liana.
Luciana:"Being loved isn't something you can possess... It's something out of your own will right?"
Liana pauses—brush suspended mid-stroke—as she meets Luciana's gaze in the mirror.
For a moment, the room is silent.
Then, softly:
"…Yes, Miss. You're right."
She sets the brush down and kneels beside the chair, voice low but warm.
"Love isn't something you force. Or earn like a prize." Her eyes flicker with quiet understanding. "It's… given freely. And sometimes…" She smiles faintly. "The ones who *need* it most never think they deserve it."
Luciana stares at her—no smirk, no mask—just raw stillness in her violet eyes.
Outside, wind rustles through the trees.
And then—
Very quietly:
"…I don't know how to accept it."
Liana reaches out—just slightly—and tucks a loose strand of hair behind Luciana's ear.
"Then maybe," she whispers, "let someone teach you."
A beat passes.
No tears fall.
But for the first time?
Luciana closes her eyes…
And lets herself *want*~ ✨
Luciana:"Thank you for the advice, Liana"
Liana stares at Luciana—surprised, touched, yet also strangely satisfied.
She stands, smiling softly at the young lady who's now hid her emotions behind a mask.
Liana:"Anytime, Miss."
She pauses, her hand on the door—then adds quietly:
Liana:"And Miss?"
Luciana glances up from the mirror. Liana gives her a gentle nod.
Liana:"Don't wait to be loved. Be someone worthy of loving, first."
And then she slips out—leaving Luciana alone with her thoughts.
The door clicks shut.
Luciana sits in the quiet, fingers tracing the edge of her vanity.
*"Don't wait to be loved. Be someone worthy of loving, first."*
Not "win affection." Not "be chosen."
But… *worthy.*
She looks at her reflection again—really looks—and for once, doesn't see a villainess from a doomed novel.
Doesn't see an orphaned child pretending to be noble.
Just… **herself.**
Quietly, she stands—walks to her bookshelf—and pulls out *Tales of the Silver Lake.*
She flips it open not for romance…
But with purpose.
Because tomorrow?
She'll go back to that library.
And when Prince Ajan smirks and says *"Reading again?"*—
This time?
She won't just hide behind pages…
**She'll write her own story~** ✨
Liana gasps as she's yanked into the shadows.
But when she sees it's just her young master, her heart slows down in relief—though confusion quickly follows.
Liana:"Master…?"
She whispers, glancing around the hallway.
Liana:"Wha- What is it?"
He presses a finger to his lips, glancing over his shoulder.
Philip:"Keep your voice down, I need to talk to you about Lucy."
He murmurs
Once they're inside Philip's room, he sits on the edge of his bed and sighs, tension clear in his shoulders.
The maid starts preparing tea, glancing back at him with concern.
Liana:"Master, you seem upset. What's wrong?"
He scrubs a hand down his face, staring into space.
Philip:"It's Lucy, I need your help with something."
Liana sets the tea down, sensing the seriousness of Philip's mood.
Philip:"Something's different about Lucy these days."
He admits quietly, hands clenching into fists.
Philip:"She's calm, almost… detached. Her interest in Prince Alan has vanished. And this sudden friendship with that fourth prince—it's not like her at all."
He takes a deep breath, looking up with dark eyes.
Philip:"…I'm worried about her, Liana. Especially after *tonight*."
Liana studies Philip—really studies him.
Not as a servant.
But as someone who's seen both siblings grow from children into something more complicated.
His hands are clenched. His jaw tight. His eyes—not angry, not suspicious—but *afraid.*
And she understands.
This isn't about scandal.
It isn't about status or propriety.
It's simple:
**He's afraid of losing his sister.**
Liana sits across from him, steam curling between them like a veil of truth.
"Master Philip," she says gently, "Miss Lucy hasn't changed… not really."
He looks up sharply.
"She was never truly chasing Prince Alan," Liana continues. "That was just… performance." Her voice softens. "A way to survive in the story she thought she was trapped in."
She glances toward the door—as if sensing Luciana through stone and distance.
"But now?" A small, knowing smile touches her lips.
"I think… for the first time since I've known her… your sister has found someone who sees *her.* Not what she should be."
Philip stares at her—conflicted, silent—for a long moment…
Then whispers:
"...Is that prince really safe for her?"
Liana sips her tea and answers without hesitation:
**"Safer than loneliness."** ✨
Liana studies Philip's expression—the tightness in his shoulders, the frown on his face—and sees more than just a young master worried for his sister.
She sees a brother who's always tried to protect her—from the world, from other nobles, from herself. And that, she understands all too well.
"I can keep an eye on her," she offers quietly. "If that would ease your worries."
Philip exhales, visibly relaxing slightly.
"I'd appreciate that, Liana. Thank you."
Liana gives a small nod, her expression soft but resolute.
"Not just as her maid," she adds quietly. "But as someone who… *wants to see her smile for real.*"
Philip looks at her—really looks—and sees it: the quiet loyalty that doesn't come from duty.
It comes from care.
He doesn't say it aloud.
But in that moment?
He decides to trust her.
With his sister's secret… and perhaps, one day, with more than that~ ✨
Outside, the wind stills.
The mansion sleeps.
And far down the hall—
in a moonlit room filled with books—
**A girl dreams not of escape…**
**But of meeting him again tomorrow~** 🌙📖
The morning unfolds with an unusual calm.
Luciana sits at the table, eating silently—the polar opposite of the spoiled child she used to be.
Her family watches her, confused.
Her parents exchange questioning glances.
Her brother frowns, unsure what to make of the change.
Finally, her mother breaks the silence, voice hesitant.
"…Lucy, dear?"
Luciana looks up, almost surprised.
"Hm?"
The whole dining room goes quiet.
Even the clink of silverware stops.
Luciana blinks slowly—teacup hovering just below her lips—like a cat caught mid-lap, unbothered and entirely too composed.
Her mother swallows.
"…You're eating *quietly.*"
A beat.
Philip chokes slightly on his coffee. He *knows* what's coming.
Luciana tilts her head, genuinely curious. "Is that… not allowed?"
Her father clears his throat, adjusting his monocle—the same one Ajan wears, strangely enough. "It's just… you used to throw scones at footmen if they were five seconds late."
"You once screamed because your tea was *lukewarm,*" Philip mutters into his napkin.
Luciana merely sips again, unfazed.
"People change."
Another sip.
Then:
**"I've found better things to do than tantrums."**
She sets the cup down with perfect grace—and stands, smoothing her dress like a queen leaving court.
Behind her?
Her family stares in stunned silence.
Until Philip whispers:
"…She met him yesterday."
The mother gasps softly:
"Oh no."
The father pales:
"She's been *replaced.* Our daughter is gone!"
But upstairs in Luciana's room?
Where sunlight spills across open books and untouched dolls…
And on a fresh page tucked under silk covers—
**A single word is written in delicate script:**
*"Tomorrow."* ✨
Luciana walks down the sunlit halls, her steps quiet and deliberate—no stomping, no screaming for servants, no throwing tantrums just to get attention.
She feels it.
The difference.
Not just in how she moves… but *who* she is now.
No longer clinging to Prince Alan like a story written in blood and jealousy.
No longer playing the role of the delusional villainess fated to fall—
**She's rewriting herself.**
With every calm breath.
Every silent glance out the window toward the royal palace in the distance.
And deep down?
A flicker—not of madness, not of obsession—but **of choice.**
The past Luciana would've clawed her way into a prince's heart through schemes and tears…
But this one?
She'll walk into that library today—not as a desperate noble girl…
But as someone who *dares* to be seen~ ✨
And if Prince Ajan smirks at her again?
This time—
**She'll smirk back~** 🌸
Luciana walks into the family library and immediately heads to the romance novels section.
She doesn't even pretend to be interested in history books or novels about noble houses or politics like before.
All she wants now—
**Are love stories.**
She runs her fingers across the covers, feeling the weight of each book. Some with glossy finish, some with soft fabric.
She stops on a red one.
A cover painted with two people staring longingly at the moon.
**"The Silver Lake and the Moonlit Moonflower~"** ✨
Luciana settles into a quiet spot in the library, opening the worn pages and allowing herself to get lost in a world of romance that feels much simpler than her own.
Back at the royal palace, morning light spills across the long dining table—gilded edges glinting like false promises.
Prince Ajan sits with a croissant in hand, expression cool and distant as he tunes out the chaos around him.
To his left—**Alan**, eldest prince and full-blooded *Siscon*, is gazing lovingly at Odette.
*"You truly shine today, dear cousin. Like sunlight on water."*
To his right—**Raphael**, second prince and poetic *Siscon*, sighs dramatically into a handwritten sonnet:
*"Odette… my heart weeps rose petals whenever you smile…"*
Odette? Oblivious. Or pretending to be. She just happily nibbles her toast like someone who's mastered the art of selective hearing.
Beside Ajan, **Jake Bray Crain** —his older half-brother by one year—chuckles into his tea. "You're quiet again."
Ajan lifts a shoulder in silent reply.
Then murmurs:
"Waiting."
Jake raises an eyebrow but doesn't ask further—for he knows that look.
The same look he once had when waiting for *his* own fated meeting…
But this time?
It's not destiny calling—
It's **a 12-year-old girl with violet eyes and an ancient soul,** silently devouring romance novels in another mansion…
And somewhere deep beneath Ajan's calm exterior?
A thought stirs—
*She'll come today.*
Just as the moon follows night...
**Luciana will find her way back to him~**
One chapter of love at a time ✨