Elaine Mythrandis had been playing this game for as long as she had been able to speak.
In the imperial palace, childhood was not a time of innocence but a battlefield draped in silk and gold. There were no carefree days—only strategies concealed within laughter, alliances forged over shared meals, and silent wars waged with a glance.
She had learned early.
At seven, when her eldest brother bribed her attendants to spy on her, all while gracing her with a brotherly smile.
At ten, when her mother ran gentle fingers through her hair and whispered, "If you do not carve your place in this world, the court will bury you in it."
At twelve, when her uncle, with all the false benevolence of a doting relative, attempted to trade her hand in marriage to secure his own power.
Elaine had survived them all.
Not because she was protected—she never had that luxury.
She endured because she learned to listen to the silences between words, to read the undercurrents of a room before she ever read a book. Because she mastered the art of smiling while unraveling the schemes set against her.
And today, for the first time, she made her move—not to defend, but to strike.
Lucas was meant to be her ally. Her proposal had been carefully crafted—subtle, poised, an offer of power rather than a plea.
On the surface, her influence in the Imperial Court was weak, nearly invisible. But only fools believed power was measured by what they could see.
Now, standing before Lucas, she no longer concealed her ambitions.
Yet the moment stretched unbearably long.
He neither spoke nor reacted. He simply… stood there.
Elaine's confidence wavered. Just slightly.
'Is he frozen because I proposed to him?'
She scrutinized him, narrowing her gaze. His stillness was unnatural. To her, he looked less like a man weighing his options and more like a stunned boy struggling to process the fact that the woman of his dreams had just confessed to him.
…Except that didn't make sense.
A more concerning thought crept in.
'Wait. Did he not even realize I was proposing?'
Doubt curled through her like a viper. Had she been too subtle? Had she miscalculated his intelligence?
Surely, Lucas—of all people—could grasp an offer so elegantly woven.
Her fingers twitched at the sheer absurdity of it.
'Could he truly be that dense?'
Lucas, oblivious to the offense rapidly forming in her mind, blinked. Slowly. Deliberately. A silent plea, as clear as day: 'Leave me alone'.
Elaine, however, saw something entirely different.
"I am listening."
Her smile brightened.
But then, another realization struck her.
'Why isn't he speaking? Is he playing hard to get? Is his pride wounded? Does he expect me to convince him further?'
She exhaled sharply. 'Hmph. How typical.'
Her resolve hardened. If it was reassurance he wanted, she would grant it.
Her smile softened, silver eyes gleaming with quiet certainty. 'Very well. If your pride needs soothing, I will indulge you. Since you will be my husband, after all.'
Lucas took an instinctive step back.
Something was wrong.
His gut twisted, his warrior instincts flaring to life as a cold sweat formed at the base of his neck.
'Why does she look at me like that?'
He had stood before Empyreans, faced creatures born from nightmares, yet nothing had ever unsettled him quite like the expression in her eyes.
Slowly, deliberately, he blinked again, this time with more force. His message was unmistakable—'Go away'.
Elaine, ever the strategist, misread him once more.
"I am waiting."
'Ah. He's testing me. Establishing his dominance before our partnership even begins. Reminding me of my place. How arrogant.'
Irritation flickered, but beneath it, something softer took root.
For all her pragmatism, for all her calculated ambition, Elaine was still seventeen. And Lucas was her first love.
Had he any inkling of the wild conclusions she was drawing, he might have choked on air.
And without hesitation, he would have ranked her as the second most dangerous being he must avoid—just after NOX.
'Okay, Elaine. You know the saying—fortune favors the bold. It's time to be bold.'
She steeled herself, gripping onto her resolve as determination flashed in her silver eyes. She steadied her breath and focused on the task at hand. The court was always watching, always waiting for the next move, and today, she would make her mark.
Lucas stood before her, still as a statue, unreadable as ever. But Elaine was done waiting.
She stepped forward, closing the distance between them.
Lucas instinctively stepped back.
That alone sent a ripple of shock through him.
He had faced Empyreans, stood against warlords, and never—never—had he backed away from anything. Yet here he was, retreating before a seventeen-year-old girl with too much ambition in her gaze.
Elaine, oblivious to his inner turmoil, extended her hand toward him.
"T-To tell you the truth…" she began, her voice betraying the slightest tremor. A rare crack in her usual poise. "I have always liked you since childhood."
A soft flush crept onto her cheeks, her embarrassment visible even as she pressed on, unwavering.
The words hung in the air like a thunderclap before a storm. The courtyard fell into a stunned, breathless silence.
Then—chaos.
Gasps echoed. Murmurs spread like wildfire.
Some students clutched their chests, as if physically struck by the weight of what they had just heard. A few unfortunate souls even collapsed, unable to endure the sheer audacity of the moment.
A princess—the untouchable, calculating Elaine Mythrandis—had just proposed.
Not to a prince. Not to the heir of a prestigious noble house.
But to Lucas.
A man with no known lineage. No powerful name. No courtly influence.
A nobody
Whispers rose like wildfire, spreading through the crowd with frantic urgency.
"This… This can't be real."
"The princess likes him?"
"She's proposing to a commoner? Does she even know his lineage?"
The reactions varied. Some were purely emotional—students overcome with disbelief, jealousy simmering in their veins as they watched the princess choose someone entirely outside the aristocratic sphere.
But others—the ones who mattered—were already calculating.
The noble heirs were absent, as expected. Heirs to the great houses did not waste their time in these common social gatherings. But their lackeys, their eyes and ears, had been stationed here for a reason.
Spies.
Some reported directly to their clans. Others served the princes. And some followed the whispers of unseen powers lurking within the Imperial Court.
Elaine Mythrandis was always under watch. Every move she made was scrutinized. Every word, dissected.
And now?
Now, she had declared something that could shift the game entirely.
A young man from the Thornwood lineage, though only a lesser branch member, narrowed his eyes. He had trained under his family's tacticians since childhood, learning restraint, patience, and the art of silent maneuvering. Unlike the rabble of lesser nobles who would act in impulse, he knew better.
His hand flicked subtly, signaling to his attendant.
"Find out everything there is to know about him," he murmured under his breath. His tone held no emotion—only cold efficiency. "If he truly has no background, then he is a dangerous unknown. And unknowns in the Imperial Court do not last long."
A shadow at his side bowed slightly and slipped away without a word.
Across the courtyard, another figure—an operative of the Imperial Court—tapped his fingers against his sleeve, considering.
Elaine was not foolish. That was the greatest concern.
If she had made such a public declaration, she must have calculated something.
Had she discovered something about this young man that no one else had?
Or was this a deliberate move to bait a reaction?
No answer was obvious, so the only course of action was to dig deeper.
In the far corners of the courtyard, less patient figures exchanged glances.
Restraint and patience were qualities drilled into the true noble heirs—but not all present here had that level of discipline. Some were merely the lackeys of greater lords, granted authority only to carry out orders.
And orders could be interpreted.
Low, unspoken agreements formed between certain factions.
If Lucas was a nobody, he would not survive this.
Power in the Imperial Court was a delicate thing. Elaine Mythrandis had spent her entire life weaving her influence through careful manipulation, slowly gathering threads of power where none seemed to exist.
If she had chosen Lucas, then either he was more than he appeared to be—or he had to be removed before he could become something more.
Not all who listened to the whispers of the court wished for patience.
Not all intended to wait for answers.
Murderous intent flickered in the air, barely restrained, unseen to the oblivious commoners still whispering in shock.
Lucas, who had been silently observing, let out a weary sigh. He could already tell he was being dragged into an exasperating situation. Did this woman truly not grasp his subtle rejection?
How could she be so brazen when he had shown nothing but indifference, not even bothering to acknowledge her once?
It dawned on him then—Elaine might genuinely be a fool. Perhaps she had never witnessed a proper rejection before. After all, within the palace, refusals were rare; everything was handled in whispers and secrecy, hidden beneath layers of etiquette.
Locking eyes with Elaine, Lucas finally spoke with unsettling calm. "Are you done?"
Elaine stiffened, caught off guard by the utter lack of emotion in his tone. A flush of embarrassment crept over her as realization struck—she may have overstepped.