Inside the Princess's Manor, a lone figure sat beside a stone table concealed behind a curtain of hanging branches. The courtyard was quiet and peaceful, filled with the soft rustling of leaves and the occasional ripple of water from a nearby fountain. Nothing about the serene scene suggested that its occupant was the same princess who had shamelessly bargained with her own face in the middle of a crowded street earlier that day.
Callista Moonstone rested one hand against the arm of her wheelchair while holding a porcelain teacup in the other. Thin wisps of steam rose from the tea and disappeared into the cool air.
The playful expression she had worn before was nowhere to be seen.
Neither was the shameless smile that had left Zion wondering whether the imperial family possessed any concept of dignity at all.
Callista's natural demeanor had returned.
She looked calm and elegant, with a sharpness hidden beneath her composed features that made her seem almost untouchably noble. Even the faint gentleness surrounding her was different now. It no longer felt soft or harmless. There was something deeper beneath it, like perfectly still water concealing a depth that could not easily be measured.
After taking a slow sip of tea, Callista lowered the cup.
"Alder."
The guard standing several steps behind her immediately straightened.
"Yes, Young Dame."
Callista's dark eyes settled on the surface of her tea.
"Did you discover who he is?"
A faint trace of amusement appeared in her eyes as she asked.
It had been a long time since someone had managed to make her laugh so genuinely.
And even more unusual was the fact that the person who had done it was so interesting.
Alder's expression became somewhat complicated.
"Young Dame..." he began carefully. "That young master's identity is somewhat special."
One of Callista's eyebrows lifted.
"How special?"
Alder hesitated for a moment before answering.
"He is the neglected young master of House Phoenix."
He paused briefly.
"Zion Phoenix."
The name lingered in the quiet courtyard.
"Zion..."
Callista repeated it softly as she leaned back against her wheelchair.
Then a quiet chuckle escaped her.
"So it really was that Zion. No wonder Vanessa looked as though she had swallowed a fly when she saw him."
The memory clearly amused her.
Alder coughed lightly before continuing.
"As for the people Vanessa sent to follow him afterward..." The corners of his mouth twitched. "Young Master Zion knocked both Gilbert and Edmund unconscious, took their money pouches, and then wrote something on them."
Even Alder, who normally maintained a composed demeanor, struggled to hide his amusement.
Callista noticed immediately.
"Oh?"
There was curiosity in her voice now.
"What did he write?"
Alder straightened, attempting to regain his usual seriousness. Unfortunately, the faint twitch at the corner of his lips betrayed him.
"Prince Damien's backside is extremely white," he recited. "And his husband's backside is even whiter."
Callista froze.
The next instant, she nearly spat out her tea.
She quickly covered her mouth, but it did little to hide the laughter that escaped. Her shoulders trembled, and even her usually composed eyes widened for a moment.
That insult was vicious.
It wasn't merely an attack on Damien's dignity. The wording itself was enough to create a far more scandalous interpretation, implying that Damien had a male lover and that this supposed husband had somehow been exposed to others.
Among the nobility, such a rumor would spread extraordinarily quickly.
A single sentence could become a scandal before the person being discussed even had the chance to defend himself.
Callista finally lowered her teacup, though amusement still lingered in her expression.
"He truly is..." She considered her words for a moment before smiling. "A remarkable treasure."
Alder eventually managed to suppress his laughter.
His expression, however, soon became serious.
"Young Dame, Prince Damien has grown increasingly hostile toward you lately. What happened today has already crossed the line." His hands slowly tightened behind his back. "Should we finally take action?"
The atmosphere of the courtyard subtly changed.
The breeze continued moving through the branches, and the leaves continued to rustle, but a faint killing intent quietly emerged from Alder.
Callista noticed it immediately.
"No."
Her answer was calm and immediate.
Alder frowned.
Frustration was visible in his eyes.
The woman sitting before him had once possessed the kind of brilliance and talent that should have allowed her to stand openly above countless others. Yet she was now forced to remain in a wheelchair, allowing shallow-minded members of the imperial family to humiliate her again and again while everyone treated her as though she were powerless.
Alder found it difficult to accept.
"Young Dame," he said, his voice tightening, "how can we continue allowing a petty prince like Damien to suppress you? We can remove him quietly. Nobody would ever discover the truth."
Callista simply shook her head.
"You cannot act rashly."
Her voice remained as steady as before.
"Not now. Any sudden movement could expose us."
Alder's jaw tightened.
"But they continue insulting you..."
"This identity means nothing to me, Alder."
Callista interrupted him with a casual wave of her hand.
"If Vanessa or Damien dies today, another fool will simply take their place tomorrow. There is little point in constantly crushing ants."
Her gaze slowly descended toward her legs, hidden beneath the folds of her golden robes.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
A gentle breeze carried the faint fragrance of flowers through the courtyard. Somewhere beyond the trees, water continued trickling from the stone fountain.
Callista eventually exhaled softly.
"Besides..." she said, her voice quiet, "people who stand too high beneath the sunlight often forget how dangerous the shadows can be."
Alder lowered his head.
He understood what she meant.
His Young Dame had endured far more humiliation than anyone should have been forced to tolerate, yet she had never complained about it.
Not once.
She had never allowed resentment to control her, either.
That composure sometimes frightened even those who had remained loyal to her for years.
Callista, however, had already moved on from the subject.
"Any news from Dwaine?"
Alder shook his head.
"Not yet, Young Dame."
A trace of frustration appeared on his face.
If not for the incident several years ago, Callista's legs would never have become crippled, and her cultivation would never have been forcibly sealed. They would never have been forced to hide their true strength behind the appearance of a powerless princess.
Yet Callista herself seemed remarkably unconcerned by the situation.
She understood that everything had its proper time.
Her enemies might laugh today.
They might humiliate her today.
They might believe they had already defeated her.
That did not mean the matter was over.
Eventually, every insult would be repaid.
Just not today.
When that day finally arrived, however, those who currently laughed the loudest might find themselves wishing they had never been born into this world.