Priscil stumbled back, jitters creeping within her like bugs crawling on her body. “How dare you threaten the blessed!”

  The onset of her sp was inevitable, but before it could even graze past Vivia's hair, Priscil's wrist twisted painfully until tears brimmed her eyes.

  “L-Lady Priscil!” The maids excimed in horror.

  “One sp was enough to teach me. Keep your hands away from my things and my face,” Vivia dismissed her hand with quite a violent force that opposed her dainty figure.

  “What’s the chaos here?” The Queen, Regina, accompanied by Sierra, entered the room at once, fbbergasted by the confrontation.

  Sierra studied her sister from head to toe. “Why do you look like you saw a ghost?”

  “Sister!” Priscil rushed towards her, reddened with humiliation. “Cirette acted so violently with me just now. She broke my arm!”

  “What?” Regina couldn't make any heads or tails of that accusation.

  Before they could further question her, Vivia pointed across the entire room. “This is the violent state Lady Priscil forced my chamber to go through.”

  Sierra asked, “Is that why you hurt her?”

  “No, she then went ahead and threw away my presents, which she had absolutely no right to touch.”

  “That’s why you hurt her.”

  “Very close, but still no. I was tempted, sister-in-w, but I held it in. My patience, however, snapped when she raised her hand to sp me. I wasn’t going to have that.”

  Regina’s eyes widened at that. “Is that true, Priscil?”

  “Your Majesty, only because Cirette was threatening me first! I simply wanted to have my chamber back. I-I might’ve touched her things without her permission, but I never threw them away like she’s insinuating!”

  “They were on the floor when I came in.”

  “They had fallen accidentally.”

  She smiled. “I understand the difference between an accident and an intention.”

  “That's not true!”

  Meanwhile, Leon left Erissa’s side and ran towards Sierra. He clutched her dress and looked up, fear in his misty eyes. “L-Lady Sierra, I’m scared…”

  Erissa was horrified. “Leon! Return to my side at once. You're getting more disrespectful day by day!”

  Sierra gracefully raised her palm, leaving Erissa to accept a hesitant silence. She knelt to Leon’s level and ruffled his head with a reassuring smile.

  “You don't have to be afraid.”

  He sniffled. “But she broke things here, and sh-she is screaming so loudly…C-Can she not talk softly like you, Lady Sierra?”

  Vivia choked at the btant humiliation masked in honeyed words.

  Priscil’s expression twisted. “You brat, how dare you-”

  “Enough, Priscil. This is not how you talk to a child,” she cast her a stern look.

  “But sister, Cirette dared question my intentions when she held impure intentions first by decring herself as the blessed at Rudaheim!”

  She threw an anxious gnce at Regina next. “Your Majesty, don't you think that this is too humiliating for me to bear? She stole my title and pce!”

  Regina said, “But that was a misunderstanding on the demons’ part, and I cannot bme them. Cirette was at Nethermoor at the time when the sun welcomed the town after twenty years. I can see why they put two and two together, but that doesn't mean that Cirette never crified it. Besides, the blessed are always born in one of the Great Three Families. There's no contention to that.”

  The royal pace still has some hope left, Vivia appreciated her wisdom.

  Priscil found herself tongue-tied. “B-But…How can that be possible, Your Majesty? The Harbinger of the Seasons is not a title for just anyone to steal. The blessed have to perform an excruciatingly difficult dance. Only the blessed can do it and nobody else. How can they have misunderstood her as me? Cirette can hardly dance in the first pce!”

  Vivia had to admit that painful truth. Cirette only knew the basics of noble dancing and didn't excel in it like other noble daughters did - one of the many things Rosrell found disappointing in his daughter - one who couldn't even dance like a refined princess.

  “I can dance.”

  Vivia contempted feigning ignorance about her talent, but dancing was her bread and butter and soul in her past life. She could deny everything else in the world but not the very ambition that defined her.

  Priscil snorted in response. “You can dance? You could hardly put two steps together in all the balls until now, so please speak some sense.”

  “I learned. You strive to become better when you ck somewhere, right? Oh, my apologies,” she jeered. “I don't think you’re familiar with the concept of self-improvement.”

  Her gaze darkened.

  Sierra blinked. “When did you learn to dance? Your dance master never revealed this to us.”

  “I’ve been practicing tirelessly everyday,” which wasn't a lie as far as her previous life was concerned. “I couldn't remain stagnant, not when I’m the princess and have immensely disappointed Mother and Father.”

  Regina took her hands in hers. “That's foolish to think, Cirette. You’ve never disappointed me. Yes, you might be a little rough around the edges, but that doesn't define your worth. You’re the best schor our realm could ever have!”

  Pride glimmered like pearls in her eyes. “You can study and understand tough subjects so well. You’re capable in politics too, only if…” she pursed her lips, “your father gave you a chance. But the Covenant recognized you! Isn't that why Sir Iorick invited you to become a full-fledged schor under his guidance?”

  When did this happen?

  The biggest and central Church - The Fourfold Covenant, was an important pce of worship in the Human Realm, one which Vivia knew only by word of mouth, mostly through her Master. But the memories of Cirette's visits there were like a fog to her. Nevertheless, warmth gushed in her chest with the gleam of pride in Regina’s eyes.

  That warm moment was shattered by Priscil, much to Vivia’s distaste. “No amount of learning can make you capable of imitating the blessed’s dance!”

  “I simply said I learned to dance well, I didn't say I could do the blessed’s dance.”

  What is this blessed’s dance anyway? Is it really so difficult?

  A rush of excitement surged into her chest. Every seemingly impossible challenge in the art form of dance was a droolworthy ambition for her. Only then could Vivia's dream of becoming the Maestro see the light of the day if she mastered as many unconventional dance forms as possible.

  But why did Master never mention this to me? A blessed’s dance sounds thrilling!

  “Dance well?” Priscil sneered. “You’re just lying through and through.”

  “I don't need to lie.”

  “Then prove it. The Festival of First Light will be held in six months’ time. Naturally, all nobles will dance. Let’s all see what you’ve ‘learned.’”

  The Festival of First Light, she thought.

  The only day when both realms came together to celebrate the end of the horrifying war of five hundred years ago, while also mourn for the departed souls who lost their lives. She had never gone to one because commoners usually never did.

  Vivia tilted her head. “Sure, but if I earn more praise and appuse than you, then you give up on eyeing my chamber and you’ll apologize to me.”

  She stiffened. “This is my chamber!”

  “Priscil, stop,” Sierra squinted her eyes. “Enough. You stayed in this chamber temporarily until Cirette’s return. Now that she’s back, it’s only natural for you to move out.”

  Two completely different sentiments flickered across their faces. An ugly sense of defeat for Priscil and an arched brow from Vivia.

  The number of sensible people is increasing.

  Sierra then gnced at Vivia and smiled. “As for Cirette, it’ll indeed be interesting to see you perform.”

  Regina cpped her hands once, delighted. “Indeed! I’d love to see Cirette dance too. Haha, I cannot wait for that day.”

  —

  Once left alone, Vivia finally allowed herself to colpse on the bed. Fatigue had seeped into her very bones, yet she forced herself to stand again, bitterly remembering how Priscil had cruelly thrown her presents. A streak of fury gleamed in her eyes seeing the faint cracks on the lilybell pot and across the mirror’s silver frame.

  “I’ll need to take them to an expert artisan who can fix this for me,” she sourly murmured under her breath.

  Releasing a sigh, her chin rested on the table as she gazed at the presents, transfixed with warmth. Her lips curved into a gentle smile, the memories of the Demon Realm invading her mind.

  “I wonder if Chef Andras is missing me. Or maybe he has already forgotten the pesky human who always teased him. Oh, that makes me wonder when he’ll confess to Azarael. She seems a little dense in such matters…” she coughed.

  She tickled the delicate lilybell petals with a smile. She then took out the glimmerpetal Zerath had given her on their way to Nethermoor, pcing it beside the lilybell’s pot. The smile at the corner of her lips tugged wider just a little more. Its graceful glow captivated her, just like Zerath's poise and calm. The chill of Nethermoor's eternal winter was unforgettable, but so was the warmth from his furry overcoats.

  Though barely a few days had passed since her return from the Demon Realm, the yearning for Zerath only continued to grow bigger and bigger like the universe expanding beyond the horizon.

  Her emerald eyes dimmed with mencholy. “I wish I could see your beautiful eyes again. They feel like I’m watching the sun…”

  How long would it take for them to meet again? Or was it even possible anymore? That fear clutched her heart like thorny vines. Simply sitting around and doing nothing wouldn't yield any results - a fact she was strongly aware of. The time to build the foundation of their retionship was only now. But that was easier said than done, and her confidence dwindled again seeing the treacherous path ahead of her.

  “Where should I even start…” Defeated, her head colpsed on the desk.

  “Teehee~”

  Vivia froze. Swallowing a hard gulp, her heart pounded and hammered like a storm upon remembering the simir ughter from before. With shaky breaths, her eyes scanned her room, but the only company was of her own just as it should be.

  “Who is it? Who ughed? Reveal yourself at once!”

  No response.

  “I know I heard it just now. You cannot fool me!”

  Greeted back with a pin drop silent room, Vivia decided to return to the cozy comfort of her bed for her mental peace.

  Maybe I’m really tired…

  “Teehee~”

  Not allowing herself to be fooled for the third time, she caught the culprit which left her baffled. Her cautious steps approached the table as she blinked at the lilybell flower.

  “...Was it you?”