The Jade Vase——a name known to every noblewoman in the inner ring of Elfine——always filled its afternoons with soft light. The high-ceilinged interior drifted with a sweet fragrance of honey and flowers. On polished white stone tables sat rose-water chiffon cake and the establishment's prized Ashleyn black tea. Beyond the windows, early autumn winds scattered golden leaves across the middle ring's cobblestones. Milena Valentia sat in the heart of that peaceful afternoon, a perfect smile fixed to her face. "So, since the Bloom Festival——" The noblewoman across from her——Countess Charlotte Rudel's daughter, her pale pink dress almost blinding——leaned in conspiratorially. She swayed her lustrous golden hair, eyes darting left and right. Like a child unfolding a secret map. "His Highness the Second Prince has taken quite particular interest in the Duke's daughter Valentia, or so I've heard." For just a moment——truly just a moment——Milena's fingertips left the teacup's handle. (It's already spreading. Much faster than I calculated.) "My." Milena's tone never wavered. The curve of her lips held precisely the same angle. "Such an exaggerated story hardly applies to me——" "But I heard about what happened at the training grounds!" Amelie Foray, a viscount's daughter with deep green ribbons binding her hair, brightened as she picked at candied flower petals. "His Highness himself steadied your hand. How enviable!" Glancing around the table, every noblewoman's gaze had turned toward Milena——that particular look, a perfect blend of envy and admiration. A sight she'd grown accustomed to in high society, yet today it felt strangely heavy. (The rumors are spreading on their own. This is dangerous. When the heroine appears, I will certainly be marked as her enemy.) "It seems you ladies have let your imaginations run rather wild," Milena said gently, repositioning her cup. Her voice carried no edge, yet maintained clear distance. She began assembling words in her mind to redirect this conversation—— Then the bell above the tea house entrance chimed. A short, clear ring. Just that alone, and the air in the room changed. Conversation stopped. A hand reaching for a sweet froze mid-motion. Someone's cup touched its saucer with a small sound. Silver hair appeared in the afternoon light. Tall. Immaculate uniform. A rose-shaped earring swaying at his left ear. And——eyes of such cold blue, as though he'd never possessed emotion to begin with. Julius Vanders. The Second Prince. Every gaze in the room turned toward him in silence. The noblewomen straightened their spines, took up their fans, or flushed crimson. Every movement synchronized, like a well-trained choir. Milena felt something faintly creak within her. Julius swept the room with a single glance. His eyes moved slowly——and stopped. On Milena's table. More precisely. On Milena's face. He began walking. Without hesitation. Straight ahead. "Miss Valentia." His low voice fell into the honey-scented air. "We need to talk." Every noblewoman at the table held her breath. Only the sound of Charlotte returning her sweet to its plate seemed unnaturally loud. Milena rose without standing, answering while still smiling. "Your Highness, I'm currently in the midst of a tea gathering——" "It won't take long." He said it flatly. Not a flicker of expression. His hand extended beside Milena's chair. A silent command to stand. To refuse a prince's request in public——no matter how inconvenient——was a breach of etiquette. An unwritten law of high society. In a kingdom where the White Rose Oath still held sway, a single misstep in dealing with royalty could echo for years. Milena rose slowly. She offered the other noblewomen a soft bow. "Please excuse me for a moment." The door to the courtyard opened. Two figures disappeared through it, pursued by the ladies' unwavering gaze. --- The courtyard was quiet. Two wooden benches sat on stone pavement. A small space enclosed by rose hedges on all sides, positioned where the windows couldn't see. This courtyard was one reason the tea house was beloved by the inner ring's nobility——a rare place to speak without eyes watching. Autumn roses bloomed modestly. Deep crimson and white mingled together, their petal edges beginning to brown. The beauty of something ending, Milena thought. Then she felt faintly exasperated with herself for thinking such things in a moment like this. Julius turned to face her. Arms uncrossed. No sword. Yet standing there, he created a quiet pressure that tightened the very air. "Why do you fear me?" Blunt. No greeting, no preamble. "I'm not afraid," Milena answered. Immediately. Without hesitation. This was true——at least, on the surface. "Then why do you avoid speaking with me?" "I'm not avoiding anything, Your Highness." "In the library tower, when I approached. At the training grounds, when practice ended." Julius's words were matter-of-fact. Whether he lacked skill in conveying emotion or did so intentionally, Milena couldn't judge. But his meaning was clear——he'd been observing. Far more carefully than she'd realized. "Why won't you meet my eyes when you speak?" Milena looked directly into his blue gaze. (I'm looking. Right now, I'm looking. There's no excuse left.) "Your Highness deserves an appropriate distance." "I decide the distance." There it was again. He'd said the same thing before. (This person isn't bound by rules or customs at all. He decides for himself. Cold as he is, that's where his arrogance shows.) "Then," Julius said, stepping forward. Milena didn't retreat. To step back would be to admit——that she was shaken in this moment. "Prove it." "Prove what, Your Highness?" "That you're not afraid." The rose hedge swayed in the wind. A single petal fell to the stone pavement. Deep crimson. A petal at the end of its bloom. Milena maintained her smile. Her expression was flawless. (Calculate. Calculate. How do I answer to get through this with minimal damage? Without provoking him, but without deepening the connection——) Then Julius's right hand moved. He took her right hand. It was cold. Stone-cold fingers transmitted their touch across her hand's back. But the grip was certain, assuming no escape, holding her as though it were the most natural thing. Milena's thoughts went white for a moment. (This is——it's like an event CG from the game. In the courtyard, before the roses, hand in hand. It's like that scene.) "Dance with me at the next Harvest Rose Ball." His words took the form of a command. Not a question. Not a suggestion. "If you don't fear me, you can do that much." His blue eyes looked directly at her. Unreadable. Yet beneath that gaze, something warm seemed to lurk, and Milena felt a strange sensation. (I can't refuse. If I refuse, it will seem suspicious. Like I showed weakness. But if I dance, then at the Harvest Rose Ball——the kingdom's grandest stage——my connection to His Highness becomes public. When the heroine appears, I'll certainly be positioned as her enemy. But——I have no reason to refuse.) The dilemma turned within her chest. The coldness of Julius's hand gradually seeped into her palm. As the initial shock faded, she noticed faint warmth beneath that coldness. (It's warm. Slightly.) Milena thought this. Then immediately felt deeply confused that she'd noticed it at all. "It would be my honor, Your Highness." Her voice was perfectly calm. Her smile didn't waver. Julius's lips moved slightly. Too small to call a smile. Just the straight line of his mouth tracing a faint arc. That alone, yet something in Milena's chest suddenly, quietly rippled. "I'm looking forward to it." Julius released her hand. He turned on his heel toward the courtyard door. His back was composed, showing no hesitation. He opened the door and disappeared into the tea house without looking back. Milena couldn't move for a while. She looked at her right hand. The warmth of his touch had faded, but it still seemed to linger somewhere. Another petal fell. --- When Milena returned to the tea house, every noblewoman nearly leaped to her feet——though none actually did, their eyes held all the momentum of standing. "What were you discussing!" "His Highness had such a gentle expression! I saw from the window——he was smiling, actually smiling!" "We simply spoke for a moment," Milena said, returning to her seat with a soft laugh. She picked up her teacup. The tea had gone lukewarm. "His Highness is quite the gentleman." She put nothing into the words. Not the ball. Not his hand taking hers. While gently deflecting the noblewomen's questions, Milena smoothly shifted the conversation toward the season's fashionable gowns. Twenty years of social experience——or rather, mere years since her transmigration——proved its worth in moments like this. The tea gathering continued for another hour. Harmoniously. Peacefully. As though nothing had happened. Milena smiled throughout, offered perfectly timed responses, and never said more than necessary. --- She boarded the carriage as dusk approached. The "Flower Ring Street" of the middle ring flowed past her window. The perfumery "Moonlit Droplet," the tailor "Silk Thread Aria," evening shoppers in their crowds. The same Elfine dusk as always. Milena rested her cheek against the window, watching the scenery without truly seeing it. (My plan has gone wrong again.) The Harvest Rose Ball——held every October first, one of the kingdom's two great events. It functioned as the stage for engagement announcements, the most political night of the year. Dancing with Julius there would publicly declare the connection between House Valentia and the Second Prince before the Five Flower Council's watching eyes. The White Rose Oath——noblewomen of ducal rank and above must secure a marriage approved by the crown before eighteen, or lose their territorial rights——had less than a year remaining. If her closeness to Julius coincided with that deadline, what would it look like from outside? (Before the heroine appears, I'll be established as her enemy. That, above all, I must avoid.) The words she told herself lined up properly. The logic was sound. Yet the sensation in her right hand wouldn't fade. Milena clenched her fist. That coldness. And the faint warmth beneath it. Crushing it. Making it disappear. (I mustn't let emotion move me. This is calculation. At the ball, I'll dance with proper courtesy, and that will be the end of it.) She repeated it silently. But——the moment Julius's lips had moved kept returning. That expression too faint to call a smile. Whether it was his true feeling or her own projection, Milena couldn't determine. That expression didn't exist in her game knowledge. The reason the Second Prince route was rated so difficult——the reason it was called "the deepest story"——she thought she understood it slightly now. (Solitude is fine. It's safer that way. Emotion only interferes with calculation. Maintaining distance is the only path to avoiding destruction.) The carriage advanced across the inner ring's cobblestones. Only a little further to the Valentia ducal mansion. Milena closed her eyes. In the darkness, only the image of a deep crimson petal falling to stone repeated, appearing and disappearing.