After Florian's talk with Athena and Scarlett, the two princesses immediately descended into chaos.
Scarlett was already barking orders—her maids scrambling in every direction, gathering outfits, traveling gear, accessories, even snacks for the road—while she shouted over them about color palettes and matching cloaks.
Athena's maids, upon seeing the commotion, joined in without hesitation.
Within seconds, the quiet corner of the palace had transformed into a whirlwind of fabric and excited squeals.
Florian could only watch, amused.
Scarlett was…Scarlett.
And Athena, though gentler, somehow matched her now.
So he left them to it, slipping away with a faint smile.
And surprisingly—he felt better.
Lighter.
Almost…warm.
Still, as he crossed the halls, Scarlett's earlier words lingered behind his ribs like a splinter.
He wanted to dismiss them.
To brush them off as naïve, romantic nonsense.
But the more he tried, the deeper they sank.
