The next morning broke with the soft glow of early sunlight spilling through the colossal windows of Seventeen's suite in Downtown Zodiac. The golden rays stretched across the polished floors, casting long shadows that seemed to dance in rhythm with the city below, already waking from its slumber. From her vantage point, Seventeen could see the streets filling with the usual bustle—shoppers hurrying along the sidewalks, diplomats deep in conversation, military personnel moving with purpose. It was a world of purpose and precision, a city where appearances were everything and the webs of power were spun with the finest threads of lies and manipulation. It was a world Seventeen had come to know intimately, a world she could navigate like the back of her hand.
Serena D'Angelo was back in her rightful place, her persona slipping back over her like a second skin. The kind, welcoming smile was in place, the gentle, measured gestures that spoke of understanding and compassion, the eyes that shone with a warmth so convincing it could make even the coldest hearts open up. Serena was a healer, pure and simple—everything Seventeen needed her to be for now. The healer from Loveliar, a woman of quiet grace and endless patience, was ready to face another day.
As she moved about the room, slipping into her daily armor—a crisp, pristine white coat that had become synonymous with her role—Seventeen allowed herself a moment of quiet reflection. Her mind drifted back to the previous night, to the gala that had served as the first step in her delicate, carefully constructed game. The evening had been a success, no doubt about it. It had given her the opportunity to begin the slow, subtle process of infiltrating the lives of the six heirs, planting seeds that would grow into something much more powerful in time. But the gala was just the beginning. The real work had only just begun.
Now, it was time to build upon those seeds, to strengthen the connections she had started, to manipulate and maneuver with finesse. Seventeen knew that in order to succeed, she needed to play the long game, weaving her way deeper into the lives of the heirs while maintaining the perfect façade of Serena.
The six were no fools. They were all heirs to powerful families, born into leadership and responsibility. Their status, their connections, their wealth—all were formidable, built upon generations of influence. But even the most powerful individuals had their weaknesses. Humans, after all, were driven by desires and vulnerabilities. And Seventeen's job was simple: find those weaknesses, exploit them, and ensure that by the time the six realized what was happening, it would be far too late to stop her.
Her schedule for the day was packed, leaving little room for distraction. She had rounds at the hospital in the morning, followed by meetings with the medical staff in the afternoon. She was expected at another event that evening with the six heirs—an exclusive gathering that would bring together the most influential figures of the capital. It was a rare opportunity, one she intended to make the most of. Every second counted. Every word spoken, every glance shared, every gesture made would serve to further her agenda. And she knew it wouldn't be long before the six began to see her as a fixture in their lives—a trusted ally, a confidante. And when that trust had fully bloomed, she would strike.
She had been playing the role of Serena for months now, carefully building this delicate web around the six, and she was patient. She knew that the real rewards wouldn't come immediately. There was still much work to be done before she could harvest the fruits of the seeds she had sown.
But for now, the plan was simple: stay focused, keep her distance from certain individuals, and maintain her role as Serena with impeccable precision. The game would continue, but Seventeen knew better than to take unnecessary risks.
There were, of course, certain people who could throw everything into disarray. The thought of encountering Samantha Vaughn sent a cold shiver running down her spine. Just the possibility of crossing paths with the woman, even by accident, felt like an invitation to chaos. The bond between them had always been a complicated one—familiar yet dangerous. A clash of interests that was difficult to predict, and when their paths had crossed in the past, it had always ended in tension. Their history was a web of unfinished business, and Seventeen could not afford any complications at this juncture. She would need to avoid Samantha at all costs. The encounter, should it happen, would be dangerous, filled with all the unspoken, unresolved tension of their past.
Then there was Corvos Nightshade, the heir of Scorpion. He was a trained secret agent, his skills in espionage and covert operations rivaling those of the most seasoned professionals. He was, without a doubt, the most dangerous of all the heirs in terms of what he could uncover about her. But there was one thing that made him even more perilous: his photographic memory. His ability to see through disguises, to recall the tiniest detail with perfect clarity, was a threat that couldn't be underestimated. If he ever saw through her façade—if he ever connected the dots between Serena and Seventeen—it would be game over.
Thankfully, Corvos was something of a loner. He had always preferred the shadows, avoiding social gatherings and public events whenever possible. He was a master of blending into the background, and he had no interest in the politics of the twelve districts. This, Seventeen had learned through her own observations, was his greatest flaw. He had no desire for influence or recognition, which made him predictable in a way. It was a small comfort for Seventeen, a calculated risk she would have to rely on. If she could avoid him—if he didn't take a special interest in her—it would keep her safe.
But in this world, nothing was guaranteed. Everything was a calculated leap of faith. And for now, avoiding both Samantha and Corvos was the best Seventeen could do.
She took a deep breath, pushing aside the lingering unease that always followed thoughts of these two particular individuals. There was no time for hesitation. The plan was in motion, and every detail needed to be executed perfectly. The day awaited her, and the evening with the six would be another important step forward. Every word spoken, every glance exchanged, every gesture—would move her closer to her goal.
As she left the comfort of her suite and stepped out into the bustling heart of Downtown Zodiac, Seventeen felt the weight of the city's pulse around her. The rhythm of power, of secrets and lies, was something she had mastered long ago. And today, like every day, she would play her part in this vast, intricate game.
※※※
As Seventeen moved through the grand halls of the hospital, her posture relaxed and her expression soft, she exuded an air of effortless charm. Every step she took was calculated, yet appeared entirely natural, as if she belonged here—because for the moment, she did. The staff greeted her with warm smiles, their voices light with familiarity, and she reciprocated each gesture with practiced warmth. Serena D'Angelo was a name that had quickly become well-known within the hospital's walls, a bubbly and gifted new doctor from Loveliar. No one suspected the truth. No one knew Seventeen Whitlock—the daughter of Ophiuchus, the child of prophecy who was destined to tear down everything these people held dear.
But they would. Eventually.
Her rounds passed uneventfully, as expected. She moved from one patient's room to the next, her hands steady as she administered care, her voice soothing as she reassured them. The hospital was an environment that demanded focus, but it was a routine Seventeen had mastered long ago. She had learned how to perform the role of the compassionate, skilled healer with precision, playing the part of Serena effortlessly. Every smile, every touch, every word was a carefully constructed piece of the puzzle she was building—slowly but steadily. Theirs was a world built on appearances, on masks, and Seventeen had become a master of her disguise.
But even in these quiet, mundane moments, Seventeen's mind was always calculating, always searching for the next step in her intricate game. Her eyes would flick to the next patient's chart, her thoughts momentarily fixated on their condition, but beneath that surface was always the edge of her focus on the bigger picture. She was building relationships, not just for the sake of being liked, but for what those relationships would yield. Every interaction was a piece of the puzzle that would eventually form the picture of her success.
It wasn't until the afternoon that the first real opportunity of the day presented itself. The steady hum of the hospital's activity continued around her, but Seventeen had long since grown used to the noise. As she reviewed a patient's chart, absorbed in the details, a voice called out to her from behind.
"Dr. D'Angelo?"
Seventeen turned, her eyes momentarily narrowing in recognition. Standing in the doorway of the wing was Claus Villarreal, his golden hair catching the light in such a way that it almost seemed to halo around his head, making him appear almost too perfect—a prince, indeed.
[Of course, it's him.] Seventeen couldn't help but think. Claus had been circling her ever since the gala, his interest in Serena both obvious and unmistakable. His admiration was an open book, and Seventeen had no qualms about using that to her advantage. He was easy to predict—easy to manipulate—and she could already feel the opportunity he presented.
"Prince Villarreal," she greeted, her voice lilting with a hint of amusement, as though his presence was a pleasant surprise. Her smile was warm, disarming, and a touch playful, carefully crafted to keep him intrigued. "What brings you to the hospital today? Feeling unwell?"
Claus chuckled, his charming smile slipping onto his face as he leaned slightly into the doorway. He was, as always, effortlessly graceful, though there was a faint blush to his cheeks that didn't escape Seventeen's notice. His attraction was palpable, even if he tried to mask it with his polished politeness.
"Not at all. I was hoping to see you," he said smoothly, his voice rich with a sweetness that hinted at something more beneath the surface. "Thought I'd check in and see how you're settling into the city."
Seventeen tilted her head slightly, a gesture of feigned surprise mixed with delight. She allowed herself to soften for just a moment, her expression warm as if she truly appreciated the concern. "That's very kind of you! It's been a bit overwhelming, to be honest. Downtown Zodiac is... larger than I imagined."
"It can be a lot," Claus agreed, his tone lowering, as if sharing a secret with her, though they both knew it was anything but. His eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint, the kind that suggested he enjoyed the attention he was getting from her. "If you ever need someone to show you around, I'd be happy to. There's a lot more to the city than what you've seen so far."
Seventeen's lips quirked into a soft smile, allowing a gentle laugh to escape her. She knew exactly where this was going. "Of course there is," she replied, her voice smooth, letting just a hint of intrigue color her words. She leaned ever so slightly toward him, as if considering his offer with more sincerity than she felt. "I might take you up on that, Your Highness. Though I'm not sure how much time I'll have—this job keeps me quite busy."
Claus nodded, his smile widening as he stepped closer, though still respectful of her personal space. He was nothing if not persistent, and his desire to impress her was becoming more apparent with every word. "Then we'll have to find a way to make time," he said, his voice hopeful. His gaze lingered just a moment too long, and Seventeen could see the way he was already picturing a future where they spent more time together—more time with her.
"Maybe this weekend?" he suggested, his eyes lighting up with hope.
Seventeen allowed a moment of hesitation to stretch between them, just long enough to make him believe she was seriously considering it. But her expression softened, the slight tension of her pause melting into something warmer, more accessible. "That sounds lovely," she said, her voice deliberate and light, as though she were granting him something precious. "But I'll have to see how things go at the hospital. There's always someone in need of care, you know."
Claus's face faltered slightly, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes before he masked it with a polite smile. He was not used to hearing "no," especially not from someone as charming and kind as Serena. But Seventeen could see that he was still hooked, still invested. That's exactly what she wanted.
"I understand," he said, his voice softening, as if conceding the point, though his hope didn't entirely dissipate. "But if you do find time, I'd love to show you the gardens at the palace. It's a quick stop by Imperious, just a little tour. They're... well, you'll see."
Seventeen gave him another warm smile, just enough affection to keep him hooked but not enough to make him think he had won her over completely. "I'll let you know," she said, her voice a mixture of promise and evasion.
He lingered for a few more minutes, chatting idly about his duties as prince and the upcoming events in the capital, but Seventeen's attention was already half elsewhere. She listened politely, offering the occasional comment, but her mind was already turning toward the other players in this intricate game. Claus was easy—too easy, in fact. He was a stepping stone, a means to an end. But the others, the real power brokers, would require more finesse, more careful manipulation.
She knew she had time. For now, Claus was a pleasant distraction, one that she could weave into her plans with ease. But it was the others—the ones who weren't as eager to play her game—that would truly test her skill.
※※※
The evening event was set to be more formal than the gala—a diplomatic dinner hosted by the monarchs of Imperious. The grand ballroom, with its towering windows and opulent decor, was a far cry from the casual affair that had marked the previous night. This gathering was an occasion steeped in politics, a celebration of unity in the archipelago. And of course, the six heirs would be in attendance, along with several key political figures from across the various districts. It was the perfect opportunity for Seventeen to continue her work: to observe, to influence, to nudge the heirs closer to her ultimate goal.
She had already made sure to confirm the absence of the representatives from Twinscott and, more crucially, the heir of Scorpion. The former was expected, given the district's current political unrest after the tragic death of their firstborn heir, but the latter was more concerning. Corvos Nightshade's absence from the event meant one less potential complication, but she couldn't entirely discount the idea that his presence could have posed a challenge—his ability to see through disguises with his photographic memory made him a dangerous adversary. But tonight, she could breathe easier knowing he wouldn't be around.
As the director of the hospital had requested, Seventeen confirmed her presence, dressed to impress as Serena D'Angelo, a role she had perfected over the months. She was a healer, a doctor—a far cry from the true identity she held beneath the surface. Serena's face, warm and open, was on full display as she entered the grand dining hall.
Her energy was infectious, a ray of brightness that seemed to fill every corner of the space. She greeted the guests with a wide, genuine smile, laughing effortlessly, engaging in lighthearted conversation with everyone she met. To anyone watching, she was nothing more than a charming, carefree doctor from Loveliar. A far cry from the cold, calculating Seventeen Whitlock.
But beneath the surface, Seventeen was fully present, her mind razor-sharp. She watched every person in the room with acute attention, her gaze flicking from one heir to the next. Each movement, every exchange of words, every shift in body language was a data point to be analyzed, a clue to the complex puzzle she was slowly assembling.
Draco, ever enigmatic, sat at the far end of the table, his expression inscrutable. He was a force to be reckoned with—one that Seventeen couldn't quite pin down. There had been undeniable attraction between them during the dance at the gala, an electric charge that had crackled between their bodies. But afterward, Draco had pulled back, retreating behind his walls of mystery. He was unpredictable, which frustrated Seventeen. But that frustration only fueled her determination.
["I'll figure you out soon enough, Draco."] She thought, her eyes briefly meeting his across the room before he quickly turned his attention elsewhere. He wasn't going to be an easy target. But she liked a challenge.
Next, her gaze shifted to Amelia and Sablina. The two women sat side by side, exchanging quiet glances and small, knowing smiles that spoke volumes. Their connection was palpable—too obvious for anyone to miss. Seventeen could see the subtle tension between the trio, the unresolved love triangle involving Hunter. Amelia, ever the social butterfly, had a way of charming both Sablina and Hunter, dividing her time between them in the most careful way. But it was clear to Seventeen that she had started giving a little more of herself to Sablina, while Sablina and Hunter seemed to be falling for her with every passing moment.
It was a delicate situation, one that could easily be exploited with the right push. Seventeen could already see the cracks in the dynamic—where once there had been unity, now there was division, uncertainty, and hidden desires. It was a game that needed careful handling, but Seventeen was well-versed in reading people. She knew exactly what buttons to press, when to hold back, and when to let things unfold on their own.
As the dinner progressed, Seventeen maintained her lively, engaging facade, effortlessly moving from one conversation to the next. She never let the warmth of her smile slip, never let her true intentions show. Her focus, however, was solely on the six heirs, and the other political figures present were little more than background noise. They didn't interest her—not yet, anyway. They weren't her goal, and she refused to waste time on them.
The rulers, especially the heads of Imperious and Whiteland, had long been part of the intricate political games that Seventeen had to play, but now, they were merely obstacles in her path. Their time had come and gone, and now it was time for the heirs to step into their roles as the new faces of power in the archipelago. Seventeen could see the underlying motivations of the rulers—their desire to maintain unity between the heirs, to keep them close and bonded to each other. But where once there had been harmony between them, the death of the heiress of Twinscott had irrevocably changed things.
Seventeen's mind wandered for a moment, reflecting on the tragedy that had rocked the archipelago. The death of the Twinscott heir, the firstborn of their line, had sent shockwaves through the entire political system. The district had refused to adopt or appoint a new heir, leaving them in a dangerous limbo. With no heir to represent them, Twinscott had become a wildcard in the ongoing power struggle. The absence of their heir had left a void that no one seemed able to fill, and now, the once united front of the six heirs was crumbling, each of them retreating into private circles and forming their own alliances.
The prophecy—her prophecy—had been the binding force that had kept them together, united under a single cause. But with the loss of Twinscott's heir, the delicate balance had begun to tip, and Seventeen could feel the tension in the air. The heirs were more divided now than ever before, their unity shattered by the death of one of their own.
But that, too, could be turned to her advantage.
Seventeen's lips curved into a faint smile as she glanced once more at the heirs, her thoughts already turning toward the next step in her plan. She wasn't here to observe for long. She wasn't here just to play the part of Serena D'Angelo, the bright-eyed doctor who everyone adored. No, she was here to push them, to manipulate them, to tear down the fragile threads of unity that still remained. The time had come to make her move.
And she would. When the moment was right.
By the time dessert was served, Seventeen had gathered everything she needed—small insights, subtle cues, little pieces of information that would help guide her next moves. The evening had been a success. The heirs had unwittingly revealed more than they realized, and she had managed to weave her web just a little bit tighter. It had been a night of subtle manipulation, of testing boundaries, of reading between the lines. And now, as she sat back in her seat, the soft clink of silverware and the murmur of conversation filling the space, Seventeen was already mentally planning her next steps.
But just as she was about to take a breath and begin running through her options, something unexpected happened.
Draco spoke.
"Serena," he said, his voice low yet clear, commanding enough to pull the attention of the entire table in an instant. Seventeen turned toward him, her smile remaining in place, but her heart skipped a beat. It was rare for Draco to address her directly in front of others—his aloofness, his quiet intensity, had always made him stand apart from the rest. And yet, here he was, calling her out, pulling her into the spotlight.
"Yes, Prince de Lavissaye?" she replied, her tone light, playful even. She made sure to keep the mirth in her voice, but inside, she felt the first stirrings of caution.
Draco may not wear a crown like Claus, but his bloodline ran through the royal family of Imperious, and in every way that mattered, he was a prince. A prince who didn't flaunt his title like Claus did, but whose power was undeniable. He had a quiet presence, one that seemed to see everything and reveal nothing.
"I was wondering," Draco continued, his eyes never leaving hers, his voice steady and composed, "what brought you to Downtown Zodiac? You've mentioned your work, but... why now? Why this city?"
It was a simple question—on the surface, anyway. But Seventeen could feel the weight behind it, the way he was carefully probing for answers, trying to see if there was more to her story than she had let on. It wasn't just curiosity—it was suspicion, masked by a veneer of casual interest.
Seventeen didn't flinch.
"Oh, it's nothing too exciting," she said, offering a soft laugh that she knew would make her seem approachable. Her blue eyes twinkled with just the right amount of humor, the perfect balance of innocence and charm. "I've always wanted to work in a place where I could make a real difference. The hospitals here are the best in the archipelago, and when the opportunity arose, I couldn't resist. It's a dream come true, really."
Her words were smooth, rehearsed, and every bit as convincing as they needed to be. She could see Draco's expression remain unreadable, his gaze still locked on hers, as if searching for a crack in her facade. The silence that followed felt heavier than it should have, a tension that hummed between them.
Draco's gaze lingered on her for just a fraction longer than necessary, his eyes narrowing imperceptibly. It was a small thing, but Seventeen noticed it all the same. She could feel his suspicion—he wasn't convinced by her story. Not yet.
["You're not convinced,"] she thought, her mind whirring as she maintained the warmth in her expression, the openness in her tone. ["But you won't find anything. Not yet."]
The conversation shifted then, as the other guests, perhaps sensing the subtle tension, began to pick up the slack. But Seventeen could feel it—Draco was watching her more closely now, his attention focused entirely on her. She could feel the weight of his gaze following her every move, a silent challenge that had suddenly taken root between them.
The rest of the dinner passed without incident, but there was a shift in the air. The lightness, the easy camaraderie that had filled the room earlier, now felt charged. Seventeen's mind never stopped working. She could feel Draco's growing suspicion like a thorn lodged in her side—irritating, nagging, but something she would have to manage carefully. He was becoming a problem, and Seventeen didn't like problems. She liked solutions.
As the night wound down and the guests began to filter out, Seventeen kept her smile in place, offering polite farewells to each of the heirs with the same practiced warmth she had shown all evening. Her words were soft, casual, yet there was an undercurrent of something else in the way she spoke, in the way she carried herself. Even as she said goodbye to Draco, his eyes lingering on her one final time, she knew something had shifted between them. The balance had tipped, and she could feel it in her bones.
When she finally returned to her apartment in Downtown Zodiac, alone and away from the prying eyes of the dinner party, the mask slipped.
The door clicked shut behind her, the soft click of the lock a signal that she was finally free of her performance. Her smile faded, the warmth in her eyes cooling into something more calculated, more methodical. The bubbly, carefree persona of Serena D'Angelo disappeared, replaced by the cold, precise mind of Seventeen Whitlock. The transformation was effortless, as natural as shedding a skin she no longer needed.
Draco was a problem. A puzzle she needed to solve.
["You're suspicious and a pain in the ass,"] she thought as she walked to her desk, her fingers brushing over the papers laid out before her. Her lips curled into a small smile, the thrill of the game already beginning to take over her senses. ["But you won't catch me. Not yet."]
Seventeen sat down at the desk, pulling out her journal and her notes on the evening's events. She began to review every moment, every interaction, replaying Draco's words in her mind, the subtle nuances of his expressions, the way he had lingered on her when the others were distracted. He was far from foolproof—he didn't know nearly as much as he thought he did. But he was observant, and that made him dangerous.
The game was becoming more interesting. She could feel the thrill building inside her, the rush of the challenge. Draco had put himself on her radar, and now it was time to turn the tables. He was becoming a key piece in her plans, and Seventeen knew that, in time, she would find a way to use him.
But first, she would have to outwit him. That, of course, would take time. Patience.
And in the end, Seventeen Whitlock always had time.
She was ready to win.