The greatest obstacle Esmeralda faced that morning—
Was not politics.
Nor the duchy.
Nor Marcus.
Nor even Rael or Aziel.
It was her bed.
Sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, warming the room in a way that felt far too comforting, far too inviting, as though the world itself conspired to keep her exactly where she was—wrapped in quiet stillness, untouched by obligation.
Esmeralda did not move.
She lay on her side, one arm tucked beneath her head, the other loosely draped across the sheets, her gaze unfocused as she stared at nothing in particular.
"...I could simply not go," she murmured.
The thought lingered.
Tempting.
Dangerously so.
After everything she had done—the tea parties, the balls, Marcus, the duchy—was it truly unreasonable to want a single day of rest?
Her eyes flickered toward the small table beside her bed.
The list still remained.
Untouched.
Quick list for future life of luxury:
"Avoided public humiliation."
"Maintained family reputation."
"Prevented engagement—temporarily resolved. Awaiting heroine"
"Survived kidnapping and poisoning."
"Get cured from Lilac's disease.. pending"
"Prevent Marcus from turning his back on the duchy... pending."
"Attend engagement party.. Need to attend! Start of the main storyline."
She stared at the last line.
And sighed.
"... This is too much, too tiring for a damsel me."
It was not reluctance that finally forced her to rise.
It was memory.
The dress.
Her gaze sharpened slightly as she pushed herself upright, the lingering haze of laziness slowly giving way to something far more focused.
In the original story—
She had worn it.
An exquisite gown.
Elegant to the point of perfection, crafted with such precision that it drew attention without ever appearing excessive. It had suited her—perfectly, almost frustratingly so—as though it had been designed with her in mind.
Even now—
She could recall it clearly.
The way the fabric fell.
The subtle shimmer beneath candlelight.
The quiet authority it carried.
"...It is rather beautiful," she admitted softly.
And more importantly—
It was hers.
Her taste.
Her presence.
Her role.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, finally standing, the decision settling into place with quiet certainty.
"I'll wear the same one."
The thought should have been simple.
Final.
But it wasn't.
Because the dress was not the important part.
It had never been.
Her fingers curled slightly.
Because what mattered—
Was what came after.
Rael.
Her expression didn't change.
But her thoughts sharpened.
He would attend.
Of course he would.
And just as before—
He would grow tired.
Of the smiles.
Of the conversations.
Of the endless, carefully disguised expectations that followed him wherever he went.
He never liked that.
Esmeralda exhaled slowly.
Her arm shifted just slightly, allowing a thin line of light to slip through and catch in her eyes.
And then he meets her..
Amaria.
The name lingered.
Soft.
Unfamiliar.
And yet—
Too familiar.
She closed her eyes fully this time, letting the image settle into place.
A white dress.
Simple.
Unassuming.
Beautiful in a way that did not demand attention—and yet held it all the same.
Golden hair.
Blue eyes.
Clear.
Untouched.
That was how the story described her.
Because unlike everyone else—
Amaria wanted nothing.
No advantage.
No recognition.
No gain.
She spoke to Rael without hesitation.
Without calculation.
Without fear.
That was what made Rael curious of her—
Along with her innocence and beauty, was a personality Rael had never encountered before.
Or—
Esmeralda's brows drew faintly together—
Without showing it.
"...Will they eventually leave me alone once they meet?"
The question slipped out before she could stop it.
And once it was there—
It refused to leave.
Because it was too convenient.
Too perfect.
A meeting at the exact moment he chose to leave.
A conversation that lingered just enough to matter.
A presence that stood out in a room full of people trying too hard to be seen.
Esmeralda let out a soft breath.
"...It doesn't matter."
Not yet.
Because whether it would happen—
Or not—
The result had been the same.
Rael noticed her.
Remembered her.
And that—
Was enough to change everything.
Her fingers relaxed.
Her body sank further into the bed.
And yet—
Her mind remained awake.
Watching.
Thinking.
Waiting.
"...I'll see it for myself."
The words came quietly.
But with certainty.
Because this time—
She would be there.
Not as a piece of the story.
Not as someone moving along its path without question.
But as someone who knew.
Who watched.
Who understood.
Esmeralda shifted slightly, turning her head just enough for the sunlight to fall fully across her face, her expression softening into something almost peaceful.
"...Later," she murmured.
Because for now—
She would remain exactly where she was.
Still.
Unbothered.
Waiting.
And somewhere beneath that stillness—
The beginning of everything quietly approached.
Let's see if all my hard work will pay off.