Noon came and the sun began its slow descent, painting the sky like a diamond that had lost its spark. Lysandra's mind was already racing, planning how to prevent the tragedy she knew might come—and her brother's scrambling numbers and dates. She was the type who always stayed indoors, except for important meetings as the royal princess.
A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.
"Come in," she said.
The door opened, and a young woman stepped in, dressed in maid clothing. Four years older than Lysandra, she was the same maid who had informed her about Serene's presence.
Seems it's time for the welcome party for the prince… She swallowed. This time, I will stay far from him.
The maid began to dress her in the royal attire: a blue gown that hugged her figure perfectly, highlighting the pale elegance of her face. Lysandra, known for her beauty, was captivating to all who looked. When they were done, she caught her reflection in the mirror. She still looked like a porcelain doll.
With a steadying breath, she stepped toward the party hall.
As she entered, the hall hushed. "The princess has arrived!" the announcer called. Everyone bowed. Lysandra returned a smile—not her real smile, but one worn for duty. The whispers followed her like a tide.
"The princess's beauty is truly captivating."
She moved among the nobles, listening politely, replying with measured words. In her mind, she noted the familiar details she had known from before. This time, I will change some things.
After a while, she excused herself, dragging her exhausted body to her seat. She let her gaze drift over the crowd and thought, Wow… being a princess is not for the weak.
Lost in thought, she did not notice the familiar presence beside her.
"Little sis," a voice said.
She looked up. Kyler. Her brother.
"Are you not pleased to see your big brother?" he asked, smiling.
Lysandra's body tensed. She turned to him coldly. "Kyler, you're surrounded by people. Did you expect me to drag you out of there?"
He laughed lightly, touching his chest as if wounded. "Little sis… hasn't changed. Always indifferent, always cold to big bro."
Inside, Lysandra's heart raced. She was shaking and sweating, though no one could see it. Her plan was simple: stay distant. Protect her brother from the fate that had claimed his life once before. If she remained far, there would be no one to blame when the inevitable happened.
So, she made an excuse and left the hall, slipping quietly through the corridors. The corridors felt unusually quiet, almost too quiet, sending a shiver down her spine. The weight of her thoughts pressed down on her like a storm cloud.
Later, she returned to her chambers and collapsed onto her bed, utterly exhausted. Sleep claimed her almost immediately, carrying her into dreams of a life she longed for—a life where her brother was safe, where she could live freely, where mistakes could be undone.
Morning light spilled through the curtains, gentle and golden. Lysandra stirred, blinking at the warmth, and a small, hopeful smile curved her lips. Maybe today will be okay, she whispered. My brother won't die… I've had someone examine all his food and drink. I've prepared this time.
A soft knock at the door startled her.
"Your Highness?" It was her maid, stepping inside. Her expression was conflicted, uneasy, and a flicker of fear shone in her eyes.
"What is it?" Lysandra asked, her chest tightening.
The maid hesitated, then said in a low, trembling voice, "Your Highness… I… I heard a troubling rumor. The prince… he couldn't wake up."
Lysandra's blood ran cold. Her hand shot to her chest, her voice slicing through the room.
"What!" she shouted, eyes wide, heart pounding like a war drum.
The room seemed to tilt, her morning hope crumbling. Fate… had already begun to move.