The Leonhart mansion had always been quiet.
Not peaceful—there was too much power, too many sharp edges hidden behind noble smiles for that—but orderly. Predictable. The kind of place where footsteps echoed in familiar rhythms and nothing truly unexpected happened.
That afternoon, however, the air felt… different.
As I descended the wide staircase toward the main hall, I could sense it. Servants moved more briskly than usual, whispering behind gloved hands. A pair of knights stood straighter near the entrance, their expressions carefully neutral.
A guest of status had arrived.
No, I corrected myself inwardly.
A plot device has arrived.
I stopped at the landing, resting my hand lightly on the railing.
"Calm down," I muttered under my breath. "You're acting like you're about to face a dragon."
A dragon would honestly be easier. At least dragons didn't come pre-loaded with emotional baggage, political ties, and future romantic entanglements with the male lead.
I resumed walking.
The closer I got to the main hall, the clearer the sounds became—soft conversation, the rustle of fabric, the faint clink of porcelain. When I stepped through the archway, the scene unfolded exactly as I remembered from the novel.
The Duke stood near the center of the hall, tall and imposing, hands clasped behind his back. Beside him was the Duchess, Melisa von Leonhart, elegant as ever, her smile warm but measured.
And standing across from them—
Viola Val Valeris.
For a moment, I forgot to breathe.
She was exactly as I had written her.
Long chestnut hair cascaded down her back in gentle waves, tied loosely with a pale ribbon. Her posture was graceful, refined by noble upbringing, yet not stiff. She wore a light blue dress adorned with subtle silver embroidery, simple enough to suggest modesty, yet tailored perfectly to her figure.
Then she turned.
Her eyes met mine.
And my heart skipped in a way I absolutely did not approve of.
Viola's eyes were a soft violet—clear, intelligent, and sharp when focused. They widened slightly when she saw me, then narrowed just as quickly.
There it was.
Annoyance.
"…Rias," she said.
Just my name. No honorific. No warmth.
I bowed slightly, as etiquette demanded. "Lady Viola. Welcome to the Leonhart estate."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "You didn't need to be so formal. We've known each other for years."
That stung more than I expected.
"I thought it appropriate," I replied evenly.
The Duke glanced between us, clearly sensing the tension, but chose not to comment.
"Viola," he said, "you must be tired from your journey. Please, make yourself comfortable."
She inclined her head politely. "Thank you, Duke Reinard."
Her manners were flawless.
Her gaze returned to me, less so.
The Duchess smiled gently. "Rias, why don't you escort her to the sitting room? Tea has already been prepared."
"…Of course," I said.
Viola hesitated for half a second, then nodded. "Very well."
And just like that, I was alone with one of the most dangerous girls in the story.
*****
We walked side by side through the corridor, the silence stretching awkwardly between us.
"So," Viola said finally, breaking it. "I heard you've been… busy."
I glanced at her. "Busy?"
"Training," she clarified. "The servants are quite talkative."
I chuckled weakly. "I didn't realize I was that interesting."
"You weren't," she replied bluntly. "That's why it stood out."
…Ouch.
"I see," I said. "I suppose I've changed."
She stopped walking.
I took two more steps before realizing and turned back to face her.
Viola studied me openly now, eyes scanning my posture, my expression, the way I stood.
"You have," she said slowly. "You look… thinner. And your eyes."
"My eyes?"
"They're different," she said. "You don't look lost anymore."
If only she knew how lost I actually was.
"That's a strange thing to notice," I said carefully.
She scoffed softly. "I've known you since we were children, Rias. I notice things."
That was the problem.
We resumed walking, and soon reached the sitting room. Sunlight streamed in through tall windows, illuminating the tea set arranged neatly on the table.
I gestured toward a chair. "Please."
She sat gracefully, folding her hands in her lap. I took the seat across from her, maintaining a respectful distance.
Tea was poured. Cups clinked softly.
For a while, we drank in silence.
Then Viola spoke again.
"You're going to the academy," she said. It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
"With me."
"Yes."
Her fingers tightened slightly around the teacup. "You know what people will say."
"I can imagine."
"They'll compare us," she continued. "They always do. The talented count's daughter and the… unremarkable duke's son."
I winced inwardly but kept my expression neutral.
"That doesn't bother me," I said.
She laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. "Of course it doesn't. You've always been good at enduring."
I met her gaze. "Viola."
She stiffened slightly at the way I said her name.
"I won't pretend I don't understand your frustration," I said calmly. "But I won't hold you back."
Her eyes flickered.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," I continued, choosing my words carefully, "that you should live the way you want to. I have no intention of interfering."
She stared at me, clearly caught off guard.
"…That's new," she said.
"So I've been told."
She leaned back slightly, studying me again. "You're not angry."
"About what?"
"About me," she said quietly. "About the engagement."
I shook my head. "It was never something either of us chose."
Her gaze softened for just a fraction of a second before she looked away.
"…You've really changed," she murmured.
Good, I thought. Keep thinking that.
*****
Later that evening, after Viola was shown to her guest quarters, I returned to my room.
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, exhaling slowly.
"That," I said aloud, "went better than expected."
And worse.
Better, because I hadn't offended her.
Worse, because I could feel the plot threads tightening.
Viola Val Valeris wasn't hostile—but she was curious now.
And curiosity was dangerous.
I walked to the window and looked out at the darkening sky.
Two weeks.
A weeks until the academy.
A weeks until Aurelius de Solaria would step onto the stage.
"I need to be careful," I whispered.
Because the girl I had just spoken to—
She wasn't just my fiancée.
She was a future heroine.
And if I wasn't careful—
I wouldn't just be erased.
I'd be crushed beneath the weight of the story I had written myself.