The morning in Leaf Dukedom started with chaos—not of war, but of hearts.
"Sion!" Sara's voice echoed through the hallway, filled with mischief and mockery. "You didn't even call me for breakfast? What kind of fiancé does that?" She crossed her arms, lips curling into a playful smirk as she entered the dining hall.
Janet sat at the long table, silently sipping her tea, eyes sharp. "He probably forgot again. Like he forgot something very important coming up in two days."
Sion looked between the two of them like a general surrounded on all sides. "I didn't forget! I was just… preparing something."
"Liar," both said in unison.
Raphael watched from the corner, arms folded, whispering to herself, "Even I can't save you from this battlefield, Sion. The war of love is far crueler."
Just as he was about to respond, the rumble of carriage wheels echoed outside. A golden carriage adorned with the royal crest stopped at the gates. Servants scrambled to open the doors as a figure stepped out, her presence regal, her aura commanding.
Katherine had arrived.
With slow, deliberate steps, she approached the entrance. Dressed in an elegant yet simple royal blue dress, she radiated confidence. "Sion," she said warmly, wrapping her arms around him. "It's been far too long. I came to help with Janet's birthday… and maybe keep certain people from hogging you."
Sara narrowed her eyes. "How kind of you, Your Highness."
Janet raised a brow, sipping her tea again. "Let me guess, you're staying too?"
"Of course," Katherine replied sweetly. "Sion has enough room for all of us."
Sion groaned inwardly, muttering, "I should've stayed in the forest."
As the ladies exchanged polite, yet sharpened words, a knock on the door interrupted them. One of Sion's agents handed him a sealed note. The spy leaned in and whispered, "Sir, there's been a strange disturbance at the outer gate. No trace left. Just… silence."
Sion pocketed the message without reaction. "Handle it quietly," he ordered, not wanting to ruin the mood.
Meanwhile, in the shadows of the outer wall, a black-robed figure crouched over the corpse of a guard. The man's throat had been slit so cleanly, no blood spilled. The figure chuckled quietly.
"Sion Ragnar… Let's see how long you can protect what you cherish."
Back inside, Janet happily detailed the plans for her upcoming birthday. "Father is organizing a grand celebration. Nobles from all over are attending—even the royal family. You'll be the center of attention, Sion."
"I thought it was your birthday," he teased.
"Oh, it is," she replied with a playful grin. "But let's be honest—everyone's curious about you."
Katherine added, "Perhaps the next ruler isn't born into a crown... but forged by will."
Janet smiled, while Sara just hummed, "Or stolen by charm."
Later that evening, as nobles began arriving early under the pretense of politeness, Sion retreated to his study for a moment's peace. A letter lay on his desk—no seal, no name.
He opened it.
"The crown you refuse is the reason you'll bleed."
Sion crumpled the letter, eyes burning with quiet intensity.
Outside, on a rooftop high above, the assassin watched him through magical lenses.
"One step closer," he whispered. "Soon, your legend will meet its end."