"Her Imperial Majesty, the Brightest Sun of the Archaum Empire, Crown Princess Hiraya Archaumbault!"
The massive doors groaned open with ceremonial weight, a deep, echoing sound that seemed to vibrate through her bones.
And Silver—no, today she was Hiraya—stepped forward.
The first thing that met her was light.
The grand ballroom shimmered beneath an ocean of chandeliers, each crystal droplet scattering brilliance across marble floors, silken curtains, and towering golden pillars.
The place looked less like a room and more like a jewel box built to hold gods. The air itself shimmered with warmth and perfume, heavy with the scent of lilies and wine.
For a moment, the brightness was blinding. It reminded her of the fluorescent lights of the corporate building she once worked in—only this time, instead of late-night deadlines and the hum of copy machines, there were nobles, music, and eyes. So many eyes.
