The door opened with a soft creak.
Gilmon turned his head instinctively, and his heart skipped a beat.
His breath hitched.
No way...
Standing in the doorway.
Serene, composed, and untouched by time, was her.
"F-Francesca…?"
His voice came out barely above a whisper.
She stepped in gracefully, her white dress flowing with each quiet step. No makeup. No jewelry. Just her. The same calming presence… the same gentle air that silenced every room she walked into—not with force, but with awe.
The same woman who hadn't aged a day since their youth.
Still looking like that beautiful young lady from the noble school, while the rest of them grew old, scarred, and bitter.
The one everyone thought would become queen…
The one Edmund chased relentlessly back then when he was still the Crown Prince…
But she rejected it all.
She rejected the royal court.
She rejected the crown.
She chose Garius instead.
