"Did you really forget our engagement?"
Her voice came soft, barely above a whisper, like it was afraid of disturbing the stillness between us.
I let the silence stretch for a few more seconds, the kind of pause that felt heavier with every breath. Then I spoke. "Yeah… I did."
A dry chuckle slipped from her lips—bitter, tired. She kept her eyes on the distant stars, as if the night sky could give her the answer I couldn't.
"I don't blame you," she said at last. "Over the years, I've come to hate it too."
'So the signs were always there, huh?'
Cassius—the original one, the moron—probably never noticed. Or maybe he did… and just chose to ignore them. Classic.
I shifted slightly, leaning on the railing beside her, letting the cool stone bite into my palms.
"Oh, but I'm not surprised," I said. "Neither of us had a say in it."
She offered a subtle smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "That's the reason why I hate it," she murmured. "We didn't get to choose… I didn't get to choose."
I smiled too, just a little. "So, what changed then? Or maybe… what do you want to change?"
Her gaze didn't leave the sky. She spoke slowly, like every word was being dug out of a memory she hadn't touched in a while.
"I guess… I want to be free."
The answer was simple, but it struck with clarity. I didn't hesitate. "Wanna break off the engagement?"
She laughed—lightly, mockingly. Not at me, but at the absurdity of it. "If only it were that easy, Cassius. But you know it's not. Our families would never allow it."
'Oh. So that's how it is.'
She wants freedom, sure. But without the cost. Without the fire. She wants to play nice with the chains still on her wrists.
'So you want me to be the good little cuck for you, stand by like a loyal dog while you chase whatever your heart desires.'
Yeah, Fuck No. No thanks, girly.
I turned my head skyward, letting the moonlight bathe my face. "We can make it happen, you know. If we try hard enough."
For the first time, she looked at me. Really looked. Her crimson eyes met mine, searching for something—maybe doubt, maybe truth. "If you say so."
She still didn't believe me. Or maybe she didn't believe in herself. Either way, she was wrong.
'Fortunate for her, this Cassius isn't the same fool she used to know.' And beyond that, let's be honest—she wasn't even my type. None of the heroines were.
The game dev clearly had a short-stack fetish; every single one of them barely reached my lips, with "seductively crafted" bodies that probably broke a few design laws of nature.
But me? I liked tall women. Strong, graceful, with a bit of bite. Not the overly sweet, overly caring types that wanted to fix everything with a smile and a hug.
I met her gaze, holding it just long enough to leave an impression. "I guess this Academy… is your chance, then. Your opportunity to prove yourself."
She nodded quietly. "Yeah. You're right."
Her voice dipped lower, but there was steel behind it. "And I won't waste it."
I turned around, letting my back rest against the railing. The wind tousled my hair slightly as I looked ahead into the dim corridor. "Just don't think getting stronger will be enough to earn your freedom."
Her brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"
I didn't look at her when I answered. "You're too kind, Amelia. Too giving. People will use that—will use you—just because you're easy to lean on."
There was a pause, and then I added, more quietly, "You've changed. But you're still naive."
Truthfully? That was a lie. A calculated jab, more based on Art's earlier words than anything I'd seen for myself. 'Remember the little girl who followed us around.'
If she used to be like that, then yeah—she probably depended on others. Clung to them.
'Like a parasite.'
But who was I to judge?
I frowned as the thought hit me. 'Am I really any better?'
I'd been so eager to criticize her, but wasn't I doing the same thing? Hiding behind Mia's existence to justify my presence, my decisions, even my anger? She was my shield. My excuse.
'Am I just leeching off her too?'
The hypocrisy curled inside me like smoke, bitter and cloying. A low, self-deprecating chuckle slipped from my lips. I didn't say anything more. There was nothing else to add.
Without looking back, I began walking down the corridor, my footsteps echoing softly through the stone halls.
Hoping, at the very least, to find a way out of this maze of a castle.
...
After what felt like an eternity of wandering through identical corridors, bumping into the occasional statue or wall like some lost aristocratic ghost, I finally accepted the truth.
There was no exit.
Not unless I made one.
With a sigh, I glanced down from the balcony I'd somehow ended up on. The fall wasn't that bad. Just a few meters. Give or take… maybe ten.
"Ah, screw it."
With the grace of a pigeon being hit mid-air, I jumped.
I landed with a solid THUD, face-first into a bed of very unwelcoming grass, right in front of the castle's grand entrance.
My knees protested, and I was pretty sure my spine filed for early retirement.
Groaning, I rolled over and stared up at the night sky. "That's it. Next time, I'm bringing a map… or a rope."
Of course, it didn't hurt. But falling face first was annoying and definitely not cool.
Dusting off my suit with unnecessary flair—because why not keep appearances—I turned on my heel and walked back through the castle gates.
The inside had transformed completely.
Where earlier there had been chatter, music, and laughter, now there was only eerie silence.Servants moved quietly, cleaning up remnants of the night: empty glasses, half-eaten meals, crumpled napkins—civilization's aftermath.
And standing by the side, like a brooding vampire abandoned at prom, was none other than Art.
He noticed me the moment I stepped in. His footsteps were slow, deliberate—each one a performance.
"Took you long enough, Traitor," he declared, voice full of mock gravitas.
I quirked a brow, unbothered. "Did you say that to everyone?"
He shook his head solemnly. "Nope. You're my best friend. Your betrayal hurt the most. That's why you get the drama."
'Melodramatic bastard.'
I crossed my arms, eyes scanning the now-quiet hall. "Is everyone gone already?"
"Yeah," he said with an exaggerated nod. "Even your father."
My heart jumped into my throat. "What?! When?!"
Art gave me a slow, infuriating smirk. "Yep. Came looking for you. Couldn't find you. Thought you were off doing something important, so he left."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why do I feel some extremely malicious intent behind that phrasing?"
He raised both hands, the very image of innocence. "I didn't do anything."
I snorted. "Yeah, right. You probably told him I ran off to elope or something."
He looked away, suspiciously quiet.
"I knew it!"
He grinned. "Hey, don't blame me if your dad has a wild imagination."
"How am I supposed to go back now?" I asked, more annoyed than panicked.
He nodded, oh-so-helpfully. "Don't worry, you can always walk home. It's just a modest 2000 kilometers. Through three monster zones."
I raised a fist in slow, dramatic motion. This time, not in a mock threat.
He stepped back, arms up like I was holding him at gunpoint. "Wait! I was joking! Chill!"
I advanced slowly, each step as ominous as I could make it. "Go on. Do your little pranks. I dare you. No—I double dare you."
He tilted his head, looking far too entertained. "Now you're just encouraging me."
My hand 'accidentally' slipped onto his head. A satisfying bonk echoed in the hall as I delivered swift, poetic justice.
"Ow!" He rubbed the growing bump on his head with a wince. "That actually hurt!"
"Good," I said, arms crossed.
Still nursing his skull, Art stretched out a hand. "[Creation—Portal]!"
A brilliant ripple of blue light shimmered into existence between us, swirling and crackling with magical energy. A translucent portal flickered open, like a watery mirror suspended mid-air.
He puffed out his cheeks and pouted. "There. Your royal escape, sire. Go on."
I stared at him, then at the portal. My annoyance faded.
I stepped forward—and hugged him.
Art stiffened at first, but then relaxed. His usual cocky grin slipped away, and for just a second, there was something raw in his eyes.
"It was good seeing you again, Art," I said, voice low. "Let's meet again at the Academy. I'll be waiting."
He pushed me back gently, eyes twinkling with that strange mix of sarcasm and sincerity. "Ugh, don't get all emotional on me now. You'll make me cry, jerk."
I gave him a casual salute and a lazy grin. "Bye."
And with that, I stepped into the portal.
My room greeted me like a long-lost friend. Quiet, dim, perfectly mundane.
The portal closed behind me with a soft whoosh, and the stillness returned.
I didn't even bother changing out of my suit. Just kicked off my boots and collapsed backward onto my bed.
It wasn't physical exhaustion that took me down. No, it was the mental toll—the endless conversations, fake smiles, dodging backstories, pretending to be someone I wasn't.
'God, I hate socializing.'
Staring up at the ceiling, I let out a long, tired sigh.
"…How do people do this every day?"
No one answered. Just the peaceful silence of my room.
And for now, that was more than enough.