The hallway leading to the main hall was dimly lit, with only the moonlight streaming in through tall, arched windows to illuminate the way.
Princess Elara Von Velden adjusted the hem of her long, crimson gown as she walked, her posture as regal as her lineage demanded.
She was returning from the restroom to the grand after-party that was being held for the first-year students at Ravenwood Academy.
As she turned a corner, her sharp senses picked up the faintest sound of footsteps behind her.
In an instant, her instincts took over.
Without a second thought, Elara spun around, grabbed the arm of the shadowy figure behind her, and slammed him to the ground with surprising strength.
Her knee pressed into the man's back as she wrenched his arm behind him.
Her free hand gripping the back of his head and forcing his face against the cold marble floor.
"Why are you following me?"
She hissed, her voice low and dangerous.
The moonlight filtering through the window caught the fiery strands of her red hair, making her seem almost otherworldly.
Her crimson eyes glared down at the man, filled with malice.
The middle-aged man groaned under her grip, wincing as his cheek scraped against the polished floor.
"Your Highness, please—wait! I'm not your enemy!"
He choked out, raising a hand in surrender.
Elara pressed harder, her grip unwavering.
"I don't trust the words of someone sneaking around in the shadows."
She said coldly.
"Speak quickly, or I'll have the guards deal with you."
"I'm Professor Caelan Draemyr," the man gasped.
"You might remember me...as Instructor Alric Draemyr from your swordsmanship lessons when you were a child."
Elara froze for a moment, her grip loosening just enough for the man to take a deep breath.
The name rang a bell, but not in a way that evoked fond memories.
Alric Draemyr—the brother of the man who was beheaded at the imperial palace.
Her tension rose at the thought, and she pushed him harder into the floor.
"Y-your brother killed my brother."
Professor Draemyr remained silent for a moment, his face still pressed against the floor.
Then, with measured calm, he said.
"And yet, here I stand before you, Princess Elara.
Not as a man of the past, but as a professor here at Ravenwood Academy, ready to serve its students—including you."
Elara's grip slackened slightly, her mind racing.
She studied his face, now turned toward her as much as her hold allowed.
His expression was calm, respectful even, though there was a faint glint in his dark eyes that she didn't trust.
"Why are you really here?"
She demanded.
The professor slowly shifted, and Elara let him up, though she didn't let her guard down.
Caelan placed a hand on his chest, bowing slightly in deference.
"Your Highness, I merely heard that you came this way and thought it would be appropriate to welcome you to Ravenwood personally.
It is an honor to have a member of the royal family among the students."
Elara's lips thinned.
"Save your formalities...
You could have greeted me at the party like everyone else."
Caelan smirked faintly, his hand still over his chest.
"Forgive me for my lack of propriety, Princess.
I simply wanted to express, in private, that whatever has transpired in the past does not need to dictate our interactions here at the academy.
Though it seemed... reasonable given the context..."
The guard explained hastily.
"Caelan appeared to be following her through the east corridor of the hall.
The Princess likely felt threatened and acted accordingly.
However, I should note that Caelan did not show any signs of hostility or aggression toward her.
If anything, he seemed calm during the exchange."
Leo tapped his chin thoughtfully.
"Calm, you say? That doesn't quite fit his usual antics.
And my dear sister—ever the fiery one, isn't she?
Always acting first and thinking later."
The guard remained silent, waiting for the prince's response.
"Interesting."
Leo muttered to himself, then directed his attention back to the guard.
"Continue updating me on both of them.
I want to know everything—where he goes, who he meets, and especially if he crosses paths with my sister again.
If there's even a whisper of danger, I expect you to act swiftly."
The guard bowed his head.
"Understood, Your Highness."
As the guard withdrew, Leo leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands together.
His crimson eyes gleamed with an unreadable intensity as he considered the implications of the interaction.
"Caelan, Caelan, Caelan..."
He mused under his breath, a wry smile curving his lips.
"What game are you playing this time?
Whatever it is, I'll make sure you don't step out of line."
He sighed, picking up his wineglass again.
The rich liquid swirled gently, mirroring the turbulence of his thoughts
Despite his relaxed posture, Leo's mind raced with strategies and contingencies.
Though he trusted his sister's strength and fiery temperament, the fact that Caelan had been near her at all left a sour taste in his mouth.
Caelan was an enigma—a wildcard whose motivations were difficult to discern.
That made him dangerous, and Leo couldn't afford to let someone like that wander unchecked near his family.
The soft clink of crystal glasses echoed in the lavish banquet hall as Leopold sipped his wine leisurely.
Yet his sharp ears caught the sudden rise in commotion.
A loud, indignant voice cut through the ambient noise.
"Is there something wrong with your eyes?"
Leopold arched a curious brow and turned his gaze toward the source of the disturbance.
His crimson eyes sparkled with intrigue as he observed the scene unfolding near the refreshment table.
Elara, her elegant gown soaked in deep red wine.
The shattered remains of a glass glittered at her feet like fallen stars.
Opposite her, equally drenched and clearly fuming, stood Noah Ashbourne.
His wet hair clung to his forehead, his tailored suit now stained with the same wine.
His piercing gaze locked onto Elara, his expression a mixture of disdain and barely restrained fury.
The room fell silent as all eyes turned to the spectacle, tension thick in the air.
Seated at a distance, Leopold couldn't help but smile.
His gloved hand moved gracefully, placing his half-empty glass on the table beside him.
Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he rested his white-gloved hand against his cheek, the epitome of relaxed amusement.