The next evening, the banquet was held in one of the grandest ballrooms, bathed in radiant light. The crowd was double the size of the previous night, meaning the liquor flowed even more abundantly.
Lavish decorations and exquisite food filled the hall, but one peculiar thing stood out: the space felt like it was divided into two distinct sections, each with its own aura.
On one side, the Princess's faction stood gracefully, sipping drinks and dining with an air of elegance. The atmosphere was serene, filled with comfort and poise. On the other side, Duke Nabal's faction indulged in hearty drinking and feasting, their energy starkly contrasting the calm elegance of the other side.
Dylan's eyes wandered over the gathering, and soon, he spotted Hubris, still wrapped in bandages from his recent injuries. He was flanked by two women in revealing attire, clearly enjoying the attention. He was surrounded by the same group of friends Dylan had seen before, all questioning him about the recent rumors. Hubris dismissed them angrily, claiming they were nothing but baseless gossip.
'So that's how he's covering it up,' Dylan thought, his gaze shifting to King Derek, who was seated nearby. His presence here seemed to explain the appearance of the Princess's faction—guests who hadn't been present at the last gathering.
Dylan's eyes searched for Lyra, remembering how she had promised to join later with her sister and Aunt Katherine. His focus sharpened as he heard a familiar laugh. Turning toward the sound, his breath caught when he saw Lyra, radiant and stunning.
She wasn't wearing her usual nose chain but instead had a delicate headpiece that complemented her white dress, laced with gold. The simple yet elegant design enhanced the flow of the dress, which hugged her figure perfectly. Unlike the other guests, dressed in elaborate gowns with sparkling jewels, Lyra's understated beauty stood out.
But despite recognizing her, Dylan couldn't bring himself to smile. His attention was immediately drawn to the man standing next to her—an unfamiliar face that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Dylan felt a pang of jealousy. He couldn't recall anyone like him being a part of Lyra's life recently.
Xavier leaned closer and whispered, "Oh, looks like Princess Lyra is here."
Dylan barely registered the words, his clenched fists betraying the turmoil inside him. His thoughts drifted to earlier that evening when he had once again questioned Xavier about the letter.
Earlier, just before the party began, Dylan asked once more, "You made sure Solon delivers the letter directly to Frank when Lyra sends it, right?"
"Definitely, Your Highness."
"And Frank is aware?"
"Rest assured, everything is taken care of."
Dylan hesitated. "I know... I just..."
Xavier smirked knowingly. "Are you anxious that Her Highness Lyra might forget about you?"
Dylan didn't deny it, causing Xavier to raise an eyebrow in surprise. He had never seen Dylan so vulnerable before.
"Your Highness," Xavier asked, "Did you not speak with her about this?"
"I did, but..." Dylan trailed off, running his fingers through his hair.
Xavier, sensing the tension, asked, "What is it, Your Highness?"
"It's nothing," Dylan sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I was just trying to convince myself that everything was fine. But I'm anxious. How can I not be? It's Lyra. She always gets in my head."
Xavier, observing his friend's turmoil, thought to himself, Seldom do you know that you're equally on Princess Lyra's mind.
Earlier, before breakfast, Lyra had asked Xavier for advice on what to give Dylan as a parting gift. She seemed torn between options and sought his counsel.
"I'm certain His Highness will appreciate anything you give him," Xavier reassured her.
"I want it to be special," Lyra replied anxiously, her fingers nervously fidgeting.
"Perhaps something handmade?"
"I thought about it, but there's no time. Are there any customs from Helios regarding this?"
Xavier thought for a moment. "There's a tradition where a girl cuts a piece of fabric from her clothes and ties it around the man's wrist or arm, as a sign of good luck, peace, and love."
Lyra shook her head. "It's just a parting gift. But what's his favorite color?"
"Green."
Lyra smiled, a sense of relief washing over her. "Got it. Thank you so much for your help!"
Flashback ends.
Xavier glanced at Dylan and then back at Lyra, his thoughts lingering on the unspoken connection between them. He doesn't know that she's deeply in love with him, and she doesn't know that he's been in love with her for so long that even his favorite color is the color of her eyes.
Meanwhile, Dylan, who had been watching Lyra talk to the man who seemed to be unexpectedly making her laugh, was about to approach her when Astrid and Katherine approached him.
It had been many years since Dylan had last met Katherine, sister of King Derek. The last time they saw each other, he was a junior boy, hiding from the adults with Lyra, and Katherine would help them escape. She had played with them, taught them archery, and told them bedtime horror stories. Even though it had been around 10 years since he last saw her, she hadn't changed much except for her hair, which she had tied up in a bun.
"Oh my! You've grown so much," Katherine remarked with a smile.
"I wish I could say the same to you, but you haven't changed at all. How come you still look the same after all these years?" Dylan replied, grinning.
"Thank you for the compliment. But I must say, I feel more mature. You used to be shorter than me, but now look at you, all grown up! How have you been?" Katherine asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
They caught up, exchanging stories about their lives, but throughout their conversation, Dylan couldn't help but glance at Lyra every few seconds. Katherine, ever observant, noticed this and chuckled.
"Looks like you're still the same. Just like back then, your eyes are only focused on Lyra," she teased.
Xavier and Astrid both chuckled, and Dylan's ears turned red.
"Err... that's not it... I was just..." Dylan stammered, unsure of how to explain himself.
Before he could continue, Katherine noticed Lyra with the man next to her. She raised an eyebrow and said, "Isn't that Marquis Herson's eldest son? How come he's with Lyra? It's strange, especially since the Marquis family is close with Medea."
"It's unusual, but not entirely out of place. The Marquis have always treated us warmly," Astrid explained.
"Is that so?" Katherine asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, Lyra used to have a crush on him, actually. He's the kingdom's finest painter, and she admires his work. They often talk at these kinds of parties when we were isolated," Astrid continued.
Dylan flinched at the information. He had never heard of this before. He had been so out of touch with Lyra's life that this new revelation made him uneasy.
"Then why aren't you going to talk to her yet?" Katherine asked with a mischievous smile.
Before Dylan could respond, Katherine, Astrid, and Xavier all stared at him, waiting for him to make a move.
Clearing his throat and avoiding their gazes, Dylan looked up and saw the man and Lyra walking in separate directions.
"Excuse me for a moment," Dylan muttered, then swiftly left to follow Lyra.
Katherine sighed, watching him go. "Young kids in love, how sweet."
Meanwhile, Dylan was about to approach Lyra when he saw her enter a woman's parlor room. He decided to wait outside.
The parlor was at the beginning of a hallway that led south, with glass French doors opening to a balcony. Another hallway facing east ran nearby.
As Dylan stood near the balcony doors in the hallway facing east, he saw the same man from before, who had been with Lyra, enter the balcony with two of his friends. They seemed to be there to smoke.
At that moment, Katherine approached him and asked, "Where is Lyra?"
Dylan motioned silently toward the parlor and then asked, "Aren't you going to enjoy the party?"
"I don't enjoy these kinds of parties anymore," Katherine replied with a shrug. "I used to, but not anymore. I came here because Lyra asked me to, and I wanted to see you. I'm not a noble anymore."
As they talked, the voices of the men on the balcony reached them.
"Hey, what were you doing talking with that crown princess for so long?" one of the men asked, laughing.
"Yeah, man, it was pretty surprising," another one chimed in.
"It was just normal chit-chat," the first man replied.
"Then are you planning to court her now?" another voice asked.
"I think she has a slight crush on you, right?" the first voice teased.
"Well, I mean, if I'm being blunt, she's not that pretty. She's just basic. If I could, I'd prefer the elder princess or Lady Karen, but I have no choice but to flatter her with stupid lies because she's the crown princess," one of the men said dismissively.
"Tell me about it. Just because she wears matching dresses and hairstyles with the elder princess doesn't mean she'll end up being beautiful like her," another voice chimed in.
"She's not that bad, is she?" another man asked, but his words were less convincing.
"Nah, she's attractive, more than half of the kingdom, but not really the one, you know?" the first man said dismissively.
The others laughed, unaware that Dylan and Katherine were standing nearby, hearing every word.
Dylan's fists tightened, and Katherine's jaw clenched. They were both furious.
Dylan was about to storm forward and confront them when he saw Lyra from the other side of the balcony doors, eavesdropping on the same conversation.
'Did she overhear everything?' Dylan thought, his mind racing.
Katherine noticed this too and advised, "You go after her. I'll handle these three."
Dylan nodded, his heart heavy, and rushed after Lyra, who was walking back toward the grand hall.
Inside, the three men continued their conversation, oblivious to the storm that had just brewed.
"Still hurry up. You need to make a lasting impression and don't forget our promise. You'll introduce me to the elder princess later, right?"
"Shall I introduce you to her instead?" Katherine's voice rang out fiercely as she entered the room, glaring at the men.
Moments later, all three men were on their knees, begging Katherine for mercy and to save their families from their own foolishness.
Meanwhile, Dylan caught up with Lyra but found that she wasn't in the ballroom. He searched around, growing increasingly anxious, until he spotted Astrid.
"Astrid, do you know where Lyra is?" he asked, his voice tinged with worry.
Astrid scanned the room briefly before replying, "I think she went to the library."
"Library?" Dylan asked, his eyes widening.
"Yes, she often goes there when the parties get too boring for her. It's nearby. Just go—"
Astrid explained the way to Dylan, chuckling nervously, "If you don't find her at the library, try the opposite direction and turns."
"Thank you," Dylan said gratefully, before rushing off to find her.
Dylan followed the guide, his steps leading him to the expected destination, though it was far from ideal. Trusting his instinct, he veered off the path and found his way through the neglected ancient garden, which appeared abandoned for years. After navigating its dense, overgrown foliage, he spotted a faint light nearby and made his way toward it. There, nestled against the backdrop of the castle, stood the small, three-story cottage—an unexpected sanctuary. It was a library that King Derek had built especially for Lyra.
From the outside, it appeared simple and unassuming, but inside, it was a fully furnished house—complete with seating areas, a bedroom, a kitchen, a dining room, a piano room, terraces, and a vast study, all surrounded by shelves of books. It was, without a doubt, a remarkable piece of art. Dylan paused, lost in memories of the days when they used to play in the garden, back when it had been well-kept. His gaze shifted toward the balcony, and there, standing with a calm yet distant expression, was Lyra. She hadn't noticed him yet.
Dylan entered the house quietly and made his way toward her. The library, unlike the rest of the castle, had remained unchanged over the years. Even Princess's palace had been renovated by Lady Medea, but this place, with all its books and memories, was preserved just as it had been.
He ascended the staircase and stepped out onto the balcony. Lyra, startled by the sound of his footsteps, turned to face him.
"Oh lord, why do you always frighten me like this?" she exclaimed.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to," Dylan replied, trying to suppress a smile.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I followed you. I wanted to talk to you."
"Why?"
"Just because." Dylan grinned as he positioned himself beside her, resting his elbows on the balcony railing.
"You shouldn't be out here. The farewell party was for you."
"Yes, but you were over here. I wanted to spend more time with you."
Lyra blushed at his words, a soft pink coloring her cheeks. Dylan, though outwardly unaffected, couldn't hide the slight flush in his ears. He noticed her silence and, sensing her flustered state, added, "You really look beautiful today. Like an angel. Or perhaps a fairy, glowing as bright as the sun."
"…thank you," she murmured, looking away, feeling the warmth spread across her skin. In the soft glow of the moonlight and flickering candles, she wondered if he could see the flush that had taken over her face.
Dylan leaned against the railing, resting his hand on his cheek as he spoke again. "Don't listen to what anyone says. You're perfect as you are. Those bastards are blind if they can't appreciate your beauty."
His words struck a chord in Lyra, reminding her of the cruel words she'd overheard earlier. Though hurtful, she had grown used to them over the years. What troubled her most, however, was the thought of tomorrow—the day Dylan would leave. The thought made her heart ache. Ever since he arrived, she had begun to feel things she thought she had long since buried. She didn't want everything to return to "normal," because that normal was nothing like what she had now. She wanted this moment to be her new reality.
Lost in her thoughts, she suddenly felt self-conscious. Did he overhear the conversation? She cursed herself mentally for her embarrassment.
"…did you hear?"
"Hear what?" Dylan asked, feigning ignorance.
"Don't lie. I know you overheard Sir Fabian."
He narrowed his eyes at her sharp remark. "So, that's the bastard's name?"
"Don't call him like that," Lyra retorted.
Dylan, taken aback by her defense, felt a pang in his chest. Before he could question her actions, she continued, explaining.
"Don't misunderstand. It's not that I'm defending him. I just don't want you to tarnish your reputation by speaking like that."
Dylan's expression softened, a small smile forming on his lips. "Oh. I'm honored. Thank you for caring about me. But right now, it's just you and me here. And as I've told you before, I can only be not like a gentleman when I'm with you."
Lyra looked at him, wondering if he was being sarcastic, but when their eyes met, she saw sincerity in his gaze. It made her heart skip a beat. She quickly pushed the thought aside.
"What was it you wanted to ask me?"
"Hmm?" Dylan responded, breaking her train of thought.
"How much do you know about your father's sickness?" Lyra inquired, her voice softer.
Lyra's eyes flickered. "So, you found out the truth."
"It's hard not to."
"Then how much do you know?"
"Just that it was poison. And that Sir Javis may be behind it. He's the main suspect, for now."
"Uncle Javis? What? How? Why? No. Absolutely not. They are trying to frame my uncle!"
"I suspected as much," Dylan replied calmly. "Could it be that Lady Medea is behind it?"
Lyra nodded slowly. "I found the man who supplied the poison, but no one knew what it was. I sent someone to contact him, but they were found dead along with the man. What's worse is that the backup team I sent as secret guards is also missing. I haven't heard from them."
"Do you need help?"
"Thank you, but I trust my team. I'm sure something happened to them, but they'll contact me soon. Perhaps I should go investigate myself."
"No." Dylan grabbed her hand, his tone firm. "It's dangerous. You can't rush into a situation without understanding it first."
"I understand that, but my men must be in danger. I can't just leave them like this. If something happens to them, it'll be my responsibility."
"I admire your heart, taking such good care of your people. But you also need to take care of yourself. Don't forget that," Dylan urged. "As for your team, maybe it's better to hire local mercenaries from the area where they went missing. They may be able to guide you better. And contact one of the private guilds."
"…I did contact the guild, but you're right. I should hire mercenaries. Thank you for the suggestion."
"It's my pleasure," Dylan said, his voice softening. "Just promise me you'll be careful, okay? I don't want you getting hurt."
His hand gently caressed her hair as he continued to hold her hand. Lyra didn't pull away. Instead, she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, "Why?"
"Because I'm worried about you," Dylan answered, his expression sincere. "And I'll be even more worried after I leave tomorrow."
He sighed. "I really wish I could stay with you longer. I wanted to be with you."
Lyra's heart raced, but she couldn't bring herself to understand what his words meant. Her face flushed, and a storm of conflicting thoughts filled her mind. She had learned to avoid expectations, especially when things seemed too good to be true. Yet, a small part of her couldn't help but wonder: Could it really be what she thought it was?
"Why?" she asked again, her voice trembling slightly.
Chuckling softly, Dylan added, "You sound like a broken record, asking the same thing over and over."
"I just want to know. Is it wrong of me to ask?"
"No, not at all. If you really want to know, then it's because you're precious to me, Lyra."