Ajan smiles faintly—a quiet, almost imperceptible expression that speaks volumes.
Jake eyes him closely, noticing the change.
"You look happy."
Ajan takes a sip of tea, shrugging casually. "It's a nice day."
A beat.
"And I woke up on the right side of the bed."
Alan and Raphael glance over, catching the edge of the conversation.
Alan raises an eyebrow. "Your bed is round."
**"I stand by my statement." Ajan replies evenly—**
A little too evenly.
At the head of the table, King Ellen Rain Crane pauses mid-sip—his sharp eyes narrowing.
Queen Aina Grace Crane sets down her fork slowly, gaze soft but suspicious.
"Ellen," she murmurs under her breath. "Look at Ajan."
The king follows her gaze—and blinks.
His youngest son—*the one who never smiles unless scheming*—is… **fondly nostalgic?**
He leans slightly toward his wife.
"...Is he *radiating serenity?*"
Aina tilts her head. "No... worse."
A beat.
"He's *hopeful.*"
Alan and Raphael freeze mid-Odette-admiration.
Jake watches silently, sipping tea like a man who knows too much.
The queen whispers again: *"He hasn't looked like that since… well… ever."*
Then—softly, dangerously—the king mutters:
"Someone has caught his attention."
A pause thick as velvet descends over the royal breakfast table…
Until Odette finally speaks up cheerfully:
"Maybe he just really likes croissants?" ✨
But deep down?
Both monarchs know—
It's not pastries.
It's **a girl with violet eyes and quiet rebellion in her soul~**
And somewhere beyond these palace walls?
She's turning pages…
And rewriting destinies~ 📖💫
Ajan quietly rises from his seat, startling the table.
"Where are you going?" Alan asks pointedly.
"You didn't finish your croissant." Raphael adds with the solemnity of a man who has memorized a love poem dedicated to croissants.
Ajan just shrugs, grabbing his monocle. "I lost my appetite."
Then walks out without looking back.
For a moment, the royal family watches him leave with narrowed eyes.
Then Alan mutters to himself: "Something is off."
Odette:"I wonder... Is it because of 'Luciana Crain' from the duke's family?"
Odette speaks up suddenly, catching everyone off-guard.
Alan turns to her.
"What are you talking about?" he asks gruffly. "That girl is twelve—what possible interest could she hold for Ajan?"
But Odette just smiles faintly, glancing toward the door where Ajan vanished.
"Perhaps she's more than you think."
Raphael pauses mid-poem, glancing up with new interest.
Even the king and queen raise an eyebrow—then glance at each other meaningfully.
Alan scoffs. "You're being ridiculous."
Jake dramatically throws his napkin on the table, hand over his heart like a man who just witnessed tragedy.
"*Oh my god!*" he gasps. "Has our youngest brother turned into a *lolicon*!?"
Silence.
Then—Alan chokes.
Raphael drops his quill.
Even the king *coughs up tea.*
Queen Aina narrows her eyes at Jake: "Don't be absurd."
But Odette giggles into her sleeve, and the king mutters:
"If it's *that* Luciana… I'm more worried about *her* corrupting *him.*"
Jake smirks. "She's got that aura, doesn't she? Like a storm in silk."
Alan stands abruptly—face red.
"This is unacceptable! No underhanded noble girl will manipulate another royal!"
Raphael sighs dreamily:
"But… isn't forbidden love… so tragically beautiful~?"
Meanwhile—
Outside palace gates…
Luciana walks calmly down the path.
Book in hand.
Violet eyes alight with purpose.
Unaware that half the royal family is now having an emotional crisis…
And that **a certain orange-haired prince waits for her in the library—with two cups of tea already poured~**
One sip away from rewriting fate ✨
Back at the royal breakfast, Odette smothers her giggling.
Alan is pacing, face still flushed.
"How could Ajan even *think* about that girl?" he hisses. "She's *twelve*."
"And?" Jake drawls, sipping tea.
"And?" Alan repeats incredulously, throwing hands. "He's *sixteen*! Almost seventeen! It's *inappropriate!"*
Odette sets down her napkin with a soft *plink*—like the first note of a scandalous melody.
She stands, smoothing her dress with innocent grace.
"Let's go to the library and see~" she suggests, eyes sparkling with mischief usually unseen in the ever-polite heroine.
Alan freezes mid-rant. "You… what?"
Raphael gasps. "*The sacred reading hall?!* Where romance novels are kept?!"
Jake grins like a cat who just spotted cream. "Ohhh, this is gonna be good."
King Ellen clears his throat—then quietly rises from his seat.
"…I suddenly have an urgent inspection to conduct."
Queen Aina follows without hesitation:
"My king, I'll accompany you to ensure you don't 'inspect' yourself into another nap."
But they both head in the *exact same direction.* 📚
Alan turns frantically between them:
"This isn't surveillance! This is invasion of privacy! He'll be furious!"
Raphael clutches his chest:
"Yet love thrives in shadows… shall we witness fate unfold~?"
And so—
Like nobles turned spies (or more accurately—**a sister complex trio plus one traitor brother**)—
They creep toward the royal library…
Only one thing certain:
When Luciana walks through that door…
She won't just meet Ajan.
**She'll walk straight into an audience of silently judging royalty hiding behind bookshelves~**
Fate's next chapter?
It's about to get *very,* very awkward ✨📖💥
The royal family crouches behind towering bookshelves like conspirators in a farce—Alan scowling, Odette peeking with barely-contained delight, Raphael sighing dramatically at the "tension of forbidden observation," and Jake trying not to laugh.
And there—
In a sunlit nook of the royal library,
Ajan sits across from Luciana.
Two teacups between them.
A romance novel open in her hands.
His smirk? Sharp, lazy… *fond.*
She doesn't look up as she turns a page.
"Staring is rude," she says flatly—without lifting her eyes.
Ajan sips his tea. "I wasn't staring."
"You were."
"I was admiring your focus." He tilts his head. "You're reading *The Moonflower* again?"
Luciana finally glances up—violet eyes sharp, calm. "I'm analyzing narrative structure."
"Of course you are." He smirks wider. "Tell me then—what's the tragedy of the Moonflower?"
She closes the book slowly.
"The heroine realizes too late that love isn't about possession… but acceptance." Her gaze flicks to him. "Too bad most princes don't understand that."
Silence hangs in the air—charged, soft…
Then Ajan leans forward just slightly:
**"Maybe this prince does."**
Behind them—
Alan *chokes on air.*
Raphael clutches his chest: *"They're already so deep into courtship!!!?"*
Odette muffles a giggle behind her hand—and whispers:
"They're adorable~"
Jake grins into his sleeve:
"Plot twist: She's leading him by the nose and he doesn't even know it."
But in that quiet nook?
Where sunlight spills like honey across pages and porcelain,
Luciana doesn't smile...
But her fingers?
They curl gently around her teacup—
As if holding something warm for the first time~ ✨
Luciana:"I'm surprised your parents didn't get you a fiance- Because your a prince"
Ajan tilts his head, studying her.
"Oh, they've tried," he murmurs, sipping his tea coolly. "But their choices weren't to my… preference."
Luciana:"Let me guess—rich, high status, and willing to bend to royal pressure."
She turns a page, almost bored—though a tiny smile twitches at the corner of her mouth.
Ajan's smirk deepens:
"You make them sound like tools."
"Aren't they?"
He raises an eyebrow. "You speak bluntly."
Luciana:"Isn't it natural for the royal family to get their children engaged for personal benefits, than love?"
Ajan leans back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other—eyes glinting with quiet fire.
"Natural?" he echoes, voice low. "Yes. Expected? Absolutely."
He sets his teacup down with a soft *clink*.
"But ever since I was seven, I made one rule to myself:
**I would never marry a puppet."**
Luciana finally looks up—book pausing mid-turn.
Ajan stares right at her, unflinching.
"The crown can demand heirs. It can demand alliances. But it cannot force me to hand my future to someone who bows before titles and not truth."
His voice drops—almost playful again—but beneath it?
Steel.
"And if they push? I'll just… disappear into the library more often~"
He glances pointedly at her book—the one she's been pretending to read for ten minutes without turning the page.
Luciana blinks once… then turns it quickly—and *almost* hides her smile behind silk-bound romance fiction~
Behind them—
Odette covers her mouth in awe: *"So poetic!"*
Alan is twitching: "That's not poetry—that's *rebellion!*"
Jake whispers into a handkerchief: "I'm so proud."
And high above on their silent shelves,
The royal parents exchange a look—
Then Queen Aina sighs:
**"We've lost him."**
King Ellen nods slowly:
**"To a twelve-year-old with better taste than any noblewoman."**
Silence returns…
As sunlight wraps around two figures too calm for their age—
One reading love stories like lessons…
The other sipping tea like victory~
📖✨
Ajan chuckles, leaning back casually.
"For the sake of bloodlines and alliances, yes." He agrees. "Royalty is about duty first, personal happiness second."
Luciana glances up from her book—violet eyes almost *mocking.*
"Then I pity any royals who love."
Ajan tilts his head, amused by her candid tone.
"Love is a dangerous word for nobles."
He smirks faintly, swirling his tea.
"Especially princes. We're supposed to be untouchable—superior even—like perfect, flawless statues of nobility… not human enough to have emotions."
Luciana shrugs, her gaze back on the book.
"Sounds empty. Not *living*. "
Ajan watches her a few moments—then asks—
"Do you believe in love?"
Luciana:"I'm not sure... You already know that I never love anyone. Or experience being loved myself"
Ajan's smirk softens—almost disappears.
For a heartbeat, the prince is gone.
And just a boy remains.
He leans forward slightly, voice quieter now—gentle, but firm.
"Then let me be the first."
Luciana's hand stills on her teacup.
Her eyes don't lift from the page—but it doesn't matter.
She *hears* it.
Not a flirtation.
Not a prince's playful tease.
But a promise.
**"Let someone love you… even if you don't know how to love back yet."**
Silence stretches—warm, fragile—
Until Odette behind the bookshelf lets out an accidental *squee* and immediately claps both hands over her mouth.
Alan whirls on her in silent horror: *"You're going to ruin everything!"*
Jake wipes fake tears with his sleeve: "My baby brother… giving relationship advice~"
But back at the table—
Luciana finally turns another page.
Fingers steady.
Cheeks faintly pink.
And though she says nothing…
She doesn't deny it either~ ✨
Because maybe?
Just maybe…
This isn't about destiny or rebellion anymore…
It's about **two broken souls choosing each other—in silence first… then in whispers… then one day, out loud~** 🌸
Luciana:"You're going to get arrested for saying that a kind of thing to 12-year-old girl..."
Ajan's smirk returns.
"I'm the youngest royal prince who reads romance novels and hides in the library," he says dryly, tipping the teacup to his lips. "Being *arrested* would be the least scandalous thing I've done this week."
Luciana shoots him a sideways look.
"You'd be fine."
Ajan chuckles. "Have that little faith in me?"
"You're a prince," she states plainly. "You wouldn't actually be punished."
He tilts his head, amused.
"You sound almost envious~"
The royal family are still hiding behind shelves, watching the scene unfold—listening to every quiet word, every soft laugh, every subtle glance.
And the longer they watch…
The more the realization sinks in:
**These two are actually getting along.**
Alan looks mildly horrified.
Raphael blinks, stunned.
Odette stares at them as if watching a romantic daydream.
And Jake just grins.
Even the king & queen share a look.
Ajan and Luciana are still talking, their voices low and warm—almost private—as they discuss love and status and books.
And the royal family is *fascinated.*
They know Ajan has a reputation as a spoiled prince who rarely smiles or speaks without mockery…
But like this…
Calm. Relaxed.
Almost tender.
They've *never* seen him this way.
The prince who's never shown the slightest interest in romance…
Is actually enjoying the quiet company of a young girl.
Outside the library, the sun dips lower toward the horizon.
It casts long shadows across the hallway, and slowly… golden light fades into evening blue.
The royal family is still watching from behind the bookshelves, completely unnoticed.
Alan is trying not to look outraged.
Raphael is still dazed from witnessing romance at its finest.
Jake is stifling a series of snickers.
And Ajan and Luciana?
They're still talking, their voices a quiet harmony.
As if… it's just the two of them in the world.
Luciana stands—graceful, composed—her arms cradling a stack of romance novels like forbidden treasures.
She doesn't look at the royal family hiding behind the shelves.
No, she *glances*—just once—at the trembling book spines and shadowy feet poking out from behind *"Advanced Etiquette for Noble Houses Vol. III."*
A faint smirk touches her lips.
"Take care of your family," she says aloud—voice smooth as silk, eyes glinting with knowing amusement.
Then she walks toward the door…
And just before stepping out—
**"Try not to suffocate in there."**
Silence.
Then—
Alan *chokes.*
Raphael gasps: "SHE KNEW?!"
Jake bursts into laughter: "Oh my god—you've been exposed!"
The king and queen step out slowly—one dignified, one flustered—as Odette giggles helplessly into her sleeve.
Ajan?
He just leans back in his chair… chuckling softly as he finishes his tea.
**"She's too sharp for us all."**
And outside?
Sunset paints the palace path gold…
As Luciana walks home—not with a prince's hand,
But with a quiet promise humming beneath her ribs~
📘✨
Because tomorrow?
She'll return.
Not for books…
But for **him~**
Alan straightens his coat with forced dignity—trying to regain control of his crumbling royal composure.
"She knew we were here the whole time?!" he snaps, voice cracking slightly. "That—that *insolent* little—"
Jake cuts in, still grinning:
"'Insolent'? Brother, she just outmaneuvered three princes, a heroine, and two monarchs with *one sentence.* Call her whatever you want… but don't call her stupid."
Alan whirls on Ajan.
"And you! You're encouraging this?! A twelve-year-old girl walks into your life and suddenly you're quoting romance novels like a lovestruck poet?!"
Ajan doesn't flinch. Just sets down his empty teacup with deliberate calm.
"She reads better than you write sonnets," he says flatly. "And she doesn't force-feed me metaphors about roses."
Raphael clutches his chest in mock agony.
Odette giggles again—then quietly murmurs:
"I think they're perfect for each other~"
Alan looks around wildly at them all—the traitors! The enablers!
"This isn't over!" he declares. "I'll speak to the Duke! There will be consequences!"
But as he storms out…
The king sighs:
"Let her come back tomorrow."
Queen Aina smiles softly:
"For the first time… our youngest son looked *happy.*"
And deep down?
Even Alan knows—
He's not stopping fate.
He's just late to witness it~ ✨
Alan storms out of the palace into the evening air—
And almost *skids* to a halt as he *sees* it:
A young girl walking to her waiting carriage.
Her steps are quiet, her demeanor calm.
And in her arms?
Romance manuscripts.
Alan grits his teeth.
He marches forward—determined.
But she senses his approach without even looking back.
She turns to face him, expression calm.
Waiting.
Luciana thought: *"Ugh. It's the siscon male lead—plotting already?"*
But her face?
Perfectly neutral.
A royal mask of polite disinterest.
She adjusts her grip on the romance novels—*The Moonflower* still peeking out from the stack—and tilts her head just slightly.
"Yes, *Your Highness?*" she asks, voice sweet but edged with sugar-sharp venom he might not catch…
But she *knows* he will.
Alan flinches ever so slightly at that tone.
He clears his throat, straightening his coat like armor.
"You've been spending a great deal of time… in my brother's library," he begins sternly.
Luciana blinks slowly.
"Are libraries forbidden to duke's daughters now?"
"No—but certain influences are." He narrows his eyes. "Ajan is a prince. He has duties. A future."
She sighs—softly, almost *bored.*
"And I'm just a child playing with books?"
Her violet eyes lift to meet his—
**Cold, knowing, unshaken**—
"Tell me... Crown Prince Alan..." She smiles faintly—"when was the last time you saw him laugh?"
Silence.
The wind stirs between them—the kind that precedes defeat or surrender.
Alan doesn't answer.
Because deep down?
He remembers...
Ajan used to smile at nothing and laugh like it hurt...
And then one day—he didn't anymore...
Until today…
Until **her** arrival~**
So Luciana steps into her carriage with quiet grace—and leans forward just once:
"Don't worry…" she murmurs through the open window as it pulls away~
"I won't steal your brother…"
Pause~✨
Then:
"I'll make him walk away on his own."
And Alan?
Stands frozen in moonlit silence…
As fate rides off into night~
📖💘
Luciana watches the moonlight rise as the carriage draws away from the palace, her hand gently caressing her cheek like a stolen secret in the night.
The moon is almost full tonight—almost golden in all its glory, casting long shadows through the carriage window. She can hear the rhythmic clops of the horses hooves, and the soft murmur of guards outside as they escort the small convoy.
Luciana stares out into the night—eyes glimmering in the silvery shadows—wondering if he's somewhere out there doing the same.
While in the royal palace, Ajan lounges on his balcony, one arm draped over the marble railing, chin resting lazily on his knuckles.
The moon hangs high—full, golden, *watching.*
Just like her.
He smirks to himself—softly, just for the night.
"Still thinking about you," he murmurs into the breeze. "Hope that counts as treason."
Behind him, candlelight flickers in the empty room.
His tea sits cold.
The romance novel Luciana left behind?
Open-faced on his desk.
*"Chapter Twelve: The Prince Who Smiled Only Once."*
And there… beneath it?
A single note in Ajan's sharp script:
**"I'll see you tomorrow."**
Not a confession.
Not a declaration.
But a promise whispered to stars and silence~
As if the universe might deliver it—
Right into her hands by morning~ ✨🌙
Luciana disembarks from the carriage with the romance novels cradled in her arms like a precious treasure. She gazes up at her family's mansion with a stoic expression—not quite blank, but carefully neutral.
The guards exchange whispers.
The maids glance at her with curiosity and surprise.
Luciana simply adjusts her grip on the books and strides inside—her thoughts flickering with the promise of tomorrow~ ✨
Once inside the Duke's mansion, Luciana makes a beeline for the library with her arms still filled with romance novels.
She slips into the library and settles onto a cozy sofa, sinking into its soft cushions like a content cat.
The hours pass like whispers.
Sunlight spills in, then wanes into night.
And the entire time, Luciana simply reads—her eyes scanning each page with quiet focus as if searching for something…
Or someone~ ✨
After hours of engrossing herself in the romance novels, a thought flickers in the back of Luciana's mind.
**"Should I write my own?"**
The idea feels surreal—an echo of the stories she reads, but also... something different, something *personal.*
She glances around at the library—full of tales from others' imaginations—then sets the novels aside, picking up a fresh quill and parchment.
Maybe... just maybe, she can breathe fire into her own dreams.
As the quill touches parchment, she starts crafting a tale of her own.
It's a story of a sly fox-like thief—a roguish, charming figure who becomes inexplicably drawn to a village girl with a feisty catlike demeanor.
The story unfolds as the thief sneaks into the village under the moonlight to steal a rare jewel…
Only to be confronted by a girl with flashing eyes and a fiery spirit. ✨
As she imagines the fox-like thief sneaking into the village on a moonlit night, her quill moves across the page faster—bringing the story to life with every stroke of ink.
The thief moves stealthily—a silhouette in shadow—through the silent streets of the sleeping village.
And then… she sees her.
The village girl, standing in the garden, surrounded by the soft glow of a single lantern.
She turns—like a cat with its hackles raised—and locks eyes with the startled thief.
As the story unfolds, Luciana writes of quiet moments between them—like the thief bringing moonlit flowers to her doorstep without a name.
Or how he lingers on rooftops just to hear her sing before bed.
The girl, stubborn as ever, never calls him by name either.
Just *"Fox."*
And he? Calls her *"Cat."*
No titles. No ranks. Just two souls dancing at the edge of fate~
Luciana pauses—quill hovering over parchment—as a small, unguarded smile tugs at her lips.
Outside… wind brushes through the trees like hushed laughter.
And somewhere deep down?
She knows this isn't *just* fiction~ ✨
Because if she writes it…
Maybe—just maybe—
**She'll make it real~** 🌙📖🐾
The soft knock came first—then Liana's voice, gentle but insistent.
"Miss Luciana? Dinner is ready."
Luciana blinks—startled from her world of fox thieves and moonlit rooftops.
She glances down at the half-written page.
*"Fox watches Cat sleep from the window… again. He tells himself it's for surveillance.
We both know it's not."*
A beat.
Then she quickly rolls the parchment, tucks it into a hidden drawer beneath her desk—one lined with silk and secrets—and dusts off her hands like nothing happened.
"Coming," she calls, voice calm as ever.
But as she stands?
She touches the edge of the drawer just once…
And whispers—
**"Tomorrow."**
Then walks out with perfect poise—the dutiful daughter, quiet noble girl…
No one would guess what burns beneath:
Not rage. Not delusion.
But **a story waiting to be lived~** ✨📖
Dinner unfolds in hushed elegance—silver clinking, soup spoons stirring, candlelight flickering across porcelain.
Luciana eats quietly. Calm. Composed.
Not a word about Crown Prince Alan.
No praise. No criticism. No dramatic sighs about "his devotion to Odette" like she used to spout from her delusional villainess past.
Just… silence.
Her father, Duke Reynard Crain, glances up—soup spoon paused mid-air.
Her mother, Lady Seraphine, watches with narrowed eyes and polite concern.
And Philip?
Ah—**Philip**, her older brother by three years…
He leans back in his chair ever so slightly—dark eyes sharp as daggers beneath his noble facade—and sips his wine like a man who *knows too much*.
Servants talk. Gossip spreads. And he'd heard it all:
*"The little miss went to the royal library…"*
*"Spent hours alone with Fourth Prince Ajan…"*
*"Came back with romance novels and a smile she didn't mean to wear."*
He clears his throat suddenly—softly—as if starting casual conversation:
"So… Luciana."
She looks up calmly. "Yes?"
"You seem… different today."
A beat.
The parents freeze subtly—their ears perking under lace and jewels.
Luciana blinks once. Then tilts her head—innocently curious? Or dangerously aware?
"I've been reading," she says simply. "It's broadening my perspective."
Philip narrows his eyes just slightly—
Then smirks into his goblet:
"And which book changed you so much?"
She meets his gaze without flinching—
And answers with quiet fire:
**"One that hasn't been written yet."**
Silence falls again...
But this time?
It's not peaceful anymore~
It's the calm before the storm~ 📖💥✨
Because while they all watch her…
They don't know one thing:
The girl who once played the fool?
Has already rewritten **herself~**