We finished our meal in that luxurious restaurant, taking our time as we relaxed in the velvet seats. Between bites of dessert, we found ourselves casually talking about the exams—the battles, the strange other candidates, and the fact that, for the first time, we were surrounded by so many humans.
Zeshia, swirling her juice with a straw, pointed out, "We stick out like sore thumbs, don't we?"
I smirked faintly, resting my chin on my hand. "Makes you wonder if we're even human at all."
It was meant as a joke, but the moment the words left my mouth, a quiet settled between us. Both of us... thought about it. For just a second longer than we should have.
Because deep down, we really didn't know, did we?
Shaking off the strange moment, we paid the bill and stepped back into the capital streets. The day passed with more shopping—mostly necessities, though Zeshia, in typical Zeshia fashion, got distracted by anything shiny.
"You're spending too much," I warned as she skipped ahead, bags floating after her with light wind enchantments.
"What's the point of being loaded if you can't enjoy it?" she called back over her shoulder, winking.
I sighed, but the corners of my lips tugged upward anyway. I couldn't argue with her logic.
Eventually, evening draped over the capital in hues of gold and blue, and we decided it was time. Hailing a carriage—because walking across this sprawling city would have been insanity—we rode to the academy for the result announcements.
As the grand, towering structure of the academy came into view, I noticed something odd.
Zeshia was... quiet.
Too quiet.
I nudged her with my elbow. "Hey. What's with the silence?"
She blinked at me, flashing a smile that didn't quite reach her bright silver eyes. "What do you mean, my dear sister? I am perfectly fine."
I stared at her. Hard.
Zeshia only called me 'dear' when she was planning to set something—or someone—on fire.
A thread of worry twisted in my chest, but I didn't push it. Not yet.
We arrived at the academy grounds, where a huge crowd had already gathered in the wide, open field. Families, candidates, and nobles mingled together, excitement buzzing in the air. Floating magic boards were lined up at the front, displaying names in glowing letters.
Zeshia's eyes were locked on the boards, her hands fidgeting slightly by her sides. I finally understood.
She was worried.
Despite all her reckless bravado, Zeshia cared—maybe too much. She wanted this. She wanted to stand by my side, prove herself, find answers about us.
Protectiveness flared up in my chest.
Leaning in, I whispered, "If they're stupid enough not to pass you, I'll burn down the academy myself."
That made her laugh. A real one this time.
"Thanks, Zen," she said quietly.
As we pushed through the crowd, we spotted a familiar figure—Talia, standing tall, a smug smile on her face as usual. She waved lazily at us.
"Told you I'd ace it," she said before we could even ask.
We chatted a little, exchanging nervous jokes about the results. Then, it was time.
First, we found Talia's name—S-Class. No surprise there. She flipped her hair like it was obvious.
Then, mine—Zenith Binne: S-Class.
I nodded to myself, calm. It was expected. I had fought well, and my written and aptitude tests had been strong.
But when we looked for Zeshia's name... we couldn't find it.
A strange, sharp coldness crept into my bones.
We searched again. And again.
Nothing.
Finally, Talia—bolder than either of us—dragged over a passing assistant teacher, who seemed startled to be approached.
"Excuse me," Talia said, her tone suddenly sharp and regal in a way that made the teacher stiffen. "Where is Zeshia Binne's name?"
The teacher fumbled, clearly recognizing Talia's noble presence—even if she didn't know her exact status.
"She, um... she failed."
"What?" Talia's voice sharpened.
Even I stiffened, fists clenching. Failed? Impossible. Zeshia was reckless, yes—but she had demolished her opponent in the battle. Her written test was more than passable. Her aptitude test had been clean.
The teacher's face paled slightly under the weight of Talia's glare. She fidgeted, hesitating, looking around nervously as if searching for someone to save her.
"...There were... concerns," the teacher mumbled. "An irregularity."
My eyes narrowed dangerously.
An irregularity?
What kind of irregularity could possibly—
Before I could speak, Zeshia grabbed my wrist lightly, stopping me. She was smiling again—that too-sweet, too-calm smile that hid a blade underneath.
"It's fine, Zenith," she said.
But it wasn't fine.
"Like hell it's fine," I snapped, completely losing my composure.
Screw logic. Screw rationality.
Who cared about all that when my one and only precious sister stood there looking dejected and hurt?
My rage flared. I was already moving toward the teacher, ready to rip them apart, when a voice cut through the tension.
A professor approached, his aura heavy and powerful. From the way the other teachers straightened and the students backed away, it was obvious—he was influential.
I forced myself to breathe as he stopped before us.
"Can you explain why my sister didn't pass?" I asked, coldly, tightly controlling my voice.
The professor's lips curled into a thin, mocking smirk.
"Her fighting style was far too bloodthirsty. It was unethical. We cannot allow such behavior in our academy."
I stiffened.
Sure, Zeshia's style was aggressive—but disqualification for winning too harshly? That made no sense.
And then, as I looked at the man closer, it clicked.
I recognized him.
The sneering face. The arrogance.
He was the father of the noble boy Zeshia had defeated.
Of course.
Madam Binne had warned us before: corruption was rampant in noble society. But seeing it firsthand like this—this blatant—it burned.
He was punishing Zeshia because his precious son had lost.
How dare he.
Talia, standing stiff beside us, tried to reason with him. So did I. We threw logic, evidence, even calm pleading at him. But he only sneered wider, clearly enjoying his power.
"Children," he said in a syrupy, mocking tone, "should not contradict their elders."
I saw Talia's jaw clench. Under her breath, she whispered to me, "He's a Marquis. High up the ladder. I can't openly challenge him... it could cause a cold war between the Marquis families and the Imperial House."
I bit down hard on my anger.
We were trapped.
Zeshia stood next to me, silent, her silver eyes darkening by the second.
I was seconds away from doing something—something really, really bad—when another voice echoed across the field:
"Oh? What's this? Corruption, is it?"
The voice was smooth, sharp, laced with amusement and disdain.
Heads turned. Whispers broke out.
The crowd parted almost instinctively as a woman strolled toward us, her presence so commanding that even the arrogant Marquis paled slightly.
The moment my eyes fell on her, I froze.
My heart stuttered in my chest.
Zeshia's hand gripped mine tightly.
Because the woman approaching...
She looked exactly like Madam Binne.
She walked in, knights flanking her, their polished armor gleaming under the late sun.
The woman looked exactly like Madam Binne—only... a little more mature.
Her presence was overwhelming. She wore a half-armored gown, blending elegance and steel so flawlessly that she screamed authority with every step.
Everyone in the area immediately straightened, even the arrogant Marquis who'd been mocking us moments ago.
Talia, wide-eyed, stepped forward and respectfully called,
"Auntie."
The Marquis, now visibly sweating, dipped his head and addressed her as,
"Your Grace."
Zeshia and I exchanged a look, stunned speechless.
Auntie?
Your Grace?
The respect pouring off everyone around her... this woman wasn't just a noble. She was powerful.
Zeshia, ever blunt, blurted out, "Who are you?"
The woman let out a soft chuckle, a sound far more familiar than it should've been.
"My name," she said smoothly, her voice carrying easily across the stunned crowd, "is Novine von Vermilion. Duchess of the Southern Region."
Duchess.
The title hit like a hammer.
The Marquis, still trying to save face, plastered on a fake, sweet smile.
"And may I ask why the Duchess herself has graced us with her presence?" he said in a sickly polite voice, practically groveling.
Duchess Novine returned his smile with one just as fake—only hers oozed dominance.
"I came for my niece," she said lightly, almost teasingly.
Everyone's eyes turned to Talia immediately.
It made sense, right? Talia was a princess.
"For me?" Talia blinked in surprise.
But Novine simply shook her head, a glint of amusement in her eyes.
"No, not you," she said, before pointing directly at me and Zeshia.
"For them."
The world tilted.
Wait... what?!
Zeshia and I stared at her, wide-eyed.
What was happening? Why us?
And then it clicked.
Madam Binne...
She once told us, in one of her rare, quiet moments, that she had a twin sister living in the capital. A sister she hadn't seen in years.
This woman—this Duchess—
Was her twin.
I connected the dots rapidly, my mind racing.
Madam Binne, the woman who raised us, who lived quietly in the outskirts...
Was the twin sister of the Duchess of the South.
Which meant—
Madam Binne was not just a high noble.
She was royalty.
A sister to the current King.
Zeshia and I exchanged another wide-eyed look.
"Wait—you're Madam Binne's sister?!"
Zeshia and I both blurted out in disbelief.
The Duchess — no, Novine — chuckled warmly, amused by our reaction.
"Oh, you call her Binne, huh?" she said, a fond smile briefly crossing her lips. "Well, her real name is Banncia de Fiore. My twin sister... and the younger sister of His Majesty, the Emperor."
We froze.
The world tilted again.
Not only was Madam Binne a high noble —
She was royal blood.
I felt Zeshia stiffen beside me, just as stunned.
We were impressed. No, more than that — awestruck.
Duchess Novine continued, her voice taking on a lighter, teasing tone,
"That stubborn sister of mine sent me a letter, you know. She mentioned her two adopted daughters were enrolling here and asked me to... keep an eye on you."
She glanced between Zeshia and me, a glint of amusement and something... proud flickering in her sharp eyes.
"But to think..."
Her expression shifted, her voice cold and cutting like sharpened steel,
"...that a mere Marquis would dare tamper with my niece's results."
Her piercing gaze snapped toward the Marquis, who immediately stiffened, his face draining of color under the Duchess's glare.
"If you think you can sabotage the family of the Imperial House without consequences," she said in a tone dripping with venomous calm,
"You must be dumber than you look."
The field around us seemed to grow heavier under her pressure.
The Marquis visibly trembled, sweat beading at his forehead.
Zeshia, standing at my side, smirked like she was loving every second of this.
And honestly?
So was I.
We stood there, quietly — but very obviously — enjoying the sight of our newfound aunt absolutely obliterating the Marquis with words sharper than any blade.
Even Talia looked like she was fighting back a smirk.
By the time Duchess Novine was finished, the Marquis was trembling, pale, and humiliated in front of dozens of witnesses.
And then came the final blow.
For daring to tamper with the admission of the daughters of royalty, and for insulting the dignity of the Imperial House, the Marquis was promptly stripped of his position and fired on the spot.
Zeshia looked like she might burst into applause.
I couldn't even blame her — I was close to it myself.
After the chaos settled, Aunt Novine — she told us to call her that — invited us to join her for a chat.
Talia tagged along as well, practically skipping beside us as we exited the academy grounds.
Soon, we found ourselves at a quiet, elegant little café.
It looked completely deserted.
I raised an eyebrow at the empty place, but Aunt Novine just smiled and said casually,
"Relax. I booked the place."
...Of course she did.
We settled into a luxurious corner booth, plush chairs sinking under us as we finally relaxed after the intense day.
And then Aunt Novine began to explain.
"You see," she said, sipping her tea with elegance, "there were three of us siblings."
She held up three fingers, ticking them off one by one.
"First was Velzura Di Fiore — our elder brother. He's the current Emperor."
We nodded, listening carefully.
"Second was me — Novine von Vermilion, the now-Duchess of the Southern Region," she said with a slight, proud tilt of her chin.
"And finally," she said, a fond, amused smile crossing her lips, "the youngest — your dear Madam Binne. Or rather, Banncia De Fiore."
Zeshia and I sat straighter, feeling the weight of her words.
"Banncia was always... different," she said, the fondness in her voice deepening.
"While Velzura and I climbed the ladders of the Empire — one becoming Emperor, the other becoming a Duchess — Banncia never cared for politics, power, or status. She always wanted freedom."
Aunt Novine paused, swirling her tea.
"So, when our brother ascended the throne and I took my title, she... left. With our permission, of course. She gave up her official status as a Princess, founded her own merchant organization — Phoenix Hell — and decided to live her life however she pleased."
She looked at us kindly.
"And judging by the two of you, I'd say she made a fine decision."
I couldn't help the small, rare smile tugging at my lips.
Zeshia, on the other hand, looked like she was glowing with pride.
Our Madam Binne... no, Lady Banncia De Fiore...
She hadn't abandoned her family — she'd chosen a different kind of greatness.
As we sat there, still a little stunned by everything, Aunt Novine continued speaking in her elegant, composed way.
"Even though you two aren't blood-related to my sister Banncia," she said, setting down her teacup with a soft clink, "you are still her daughters. She adopted you with her own will, and that makes you my nieces."
Zeshia, who had been holding herself together until now, practically bounced in her seat.
"So if our adopted mother is royalty... does that make us royalty too?!"
Aunt Novine chuckled, amused at Zeshia's sparkling eyes.
"Yes," she confirmed, smiling. "Banncia may have retired from public life, but officially, on record, she is still a Princess of the Empire. Which means — so are you two."
I blinked.
Even with all my calm and control, I could feel the excitement bubbling inside me.
I mean, come on — no matter how stoic I acted, I was still only sixteen!
Aunt Novine leaned forward slightly, her voice warm.
"You have every right to use the name De Fiore if you wish," she said. "And you have the right to call yourselves Princesses."
Zeshia and I stared at each other, the realization hitting us fully — and then both of us broke into rare, huge smiles.
Just when I thought it couldn't get more overwhelming, Talia spoke up, her voice high with excitement.
"Wait, wait — if you're my aunt... and they're Aunt Banncia's adopted daughters... doesn't that make us cousins?!"
We all blinked in surprise for a second, and then Aunt Novine laughed lightly.
"Yes, Talia. That's exactly what it means."
Zeshia let out a dramatic squeal, while I just let out a soft laugh.
Talia beamed and leaned closer across the table.
"So not just friends — we're family now!" she said brightly.
The excitement bubbled around the table like a warm, sweet atmosphere.
At Aunt Novine's signal, the café staff brought in plates of colorful, luxurious desserts — cakes, pastries, and all kinds of sweet treats.
As we dug in, chatting happily, it felt... nice.
For once, Zeshia and I, who had grown up slightly apart from human society, belonged somewhere.
We weren't just strangers anymore.
We had a family — and it was far grander than we had ever imagined.