As the ceremony begins, the spotlight of attention turns to the stage.
The head butler steps forward, his voice echoing across the hall:
"Honored guests and noble attendees, we are gathered here today to honor the young master of house Crain on this milestone of becoming a man."
Philip stands straight, eyes forward, trying to maintain a dignified expression—ignoring that flutter in his chest when he sees Luciana in the crowd, holding the book.
Then the butler continues:
"Come forth, Master Philip."
A hush falls over the grand hall as Crain's eldest son takes the stage, dressed in black and purple.
The Crain family is one of the oldest and most respected families in the kingdom—and everyone in the room knows the importance of this ceremony.
From the corner nearest to the stage, the fourth prince stands with his parents, his mind still racing with thoughts of the silver-wrapped book.
He looks up, expecting to watch the usual speeches... but instead finds Luciana standing nearby, staring thoughtfully toward the stage as if lost in thought herself.
Luciana stands silently, her gaze fixed on the stage as Philip takes his place—
Her own heartbeat echoes in her ears, but her expression remains calm and enigmatic, like a cat waiting patiently before a pounce.
She glances at Philip—just once, for a brief moment, then looks back to the stage.
The ceremony continues around her, nobles clapping politely, lords and ladies murmuring to each other.
But her focus remains on the scene before her... and the silver-wrapped volume in her hands.
As the ceremony ends, nobles and noble kids quickly surround Philip, showering him with enthusiastic praises and handing over gifts.
Lords and ladies pat him on the back, congratulating him on "finally growing up" and hoping "one day he can live up to his parents' names."
A few noble boys clap his shoulder, slapping him with words like "You're actually starting to look halfway decent these days."
And a group of female nobles flutter around him, giggling and trying to catch his attention:
"Master Philip, you look handsome today..."
Luciana weaves around the crowd—once, twice—trying to reach her brother.
But every time she steps forward, another noble blocks her path with a bow or a ribbon-wrapped gift.
Laughter swells.
Philip's smiling now—stiff but polite—and completely unaware that *she's* trying to get through.
And then...
The invisible cat ears on Luciana's head twitch once...
Then slowly droop low beneath her curls~
Her tail?
It curls in at the tip—small and defeated~ 🖤
She hesitates.
For the first time since she picked up a quill...
She wonders if maybe—
This was too much.
Too public. Too silly. Too *soft.*
Then—
A warm hand lands gently on her shoulder.
Liana stands beside her, calm and steady as always, wearing that knowing smile of hers:
**"Miss,"** she whispers softly, **"a story this important doesn't need the spotlight... it just needs one moment."**
Luciana blinks up at her—
And Liana winks:
**"He'll see you. He always does."**
Just then—
Philip turns his head slightly above the crowd...
And his eyes find hers across the room~ ✨
Even surrounded by nobles and noise?
He sees *her.*
Sees the silver-wrapped book in her hands.
Sees how quiet she stands amidst all this chaos.
Sees how everyone else is loud with praise...
But only *one person* wrote him into existence twice~
His voice cuts through politely:
**"Excuse me."**
He steps back from the group—one firm motion—and pushes gently through until he stands before Luciana alone~
Silence forms around them like ink spreading on water...
Then he says, voice lower now—just for her:
**"...You said you had something for me?"**
🐾📘💫❤️
Luciana's imaginary cat ears and tail perk up at his question—
Just for a heartbeat, just for a moment—
Her hands had just begun to lift the wrapped gift toward him when—
*CRAW!*
A crow swoops in from nowhere, snatching the gift out of her hands with a sharp caw~
A collective gasp from the room.
Shock.
Silence.
Every eye *staring* at the scene.
Luciana blinks.
Her entire body *freezes*—
Then the sound of feathers rustling.
She turns her head...
...and finds the crow perched on the railing, holding the silver-wrapped book in its beak
Philips' face reddens, anger flashing in his eyes.
He snaps at the crow, voice sharp:
"What are you doing? Give it back!"
The crow cocks its head to one side—almost teasing—and ruffles its wings, holding the book just out of reach.
Philip's fists clench at his sides.
Seeing Luciana still and quiet—her usual sharp composure shattered, her invisible cat ears flat against her head, tail curled tightly inward like a wound spring—
It *pisses him off.*
Not just at the crow.
But at this whole stupid moment—how she'd waited, how she'd walked through the crowd alone while others drowned him in noise...
And now *this*?
A filthy bird stealing what she gave?
He grits his teeth, jaw tight as steel—
Then without another word?
He **lunges.**
Up the marble railing in one swift motion—ignoring shouts of "Master Philip!" and "Careful!"
His hand reaches high as feathers flutter wildly—
And with one bold snatch...
**The book is back in his grip.**
The crow caws in outrage and flaps away into the dusk sky~
Philip lands lightly on both feet... breathing hard.
He turns.
Luciana hasn't moved. Still staring down.
So he walks straight to her—steps firm—and holds out the silver-wrapped book between them.
His voice is low. Rough with something deeper than anger:
**"You wrote Vol. 2 for me."**
A beat.
Then softer:
**"No one else gets that."**
She finally looks up.
Eyes wide. Quiet storm behind them~
And Philip?
For once—he doesn't make a joke.
Doesn't roll his eyes or mutter about sentimentality~ ✨
Instead?
He lifts the book slightly... presses it gently into her hands again...
Then murmurs so only *she* hears:
> **"Next time... let me open it myself."**
Liana wipes a tear from her eye~ 🐾📖💖
Because some gifts aren't just wrapped in silver...
They're sealed with **love written twice over~** 🌙🖤📘💫
For a heartbeat—
the world stops.
Then Luciana steps forward.
No words.
No quill.
No clever lines hidden in prose~
Just silence... and the soft rustle of fabric as she wraps her arms around him.
Philip freezes—entire body stiff with shock, eyes wide like he's been struck by lightning.
But Luciana doesn't pull away.
She holds on~
Tightly. Quietly. *Fiercely.*
As if writing something only their hearts can read~ 💫
And slowly...
So slowly...
Philip's hands rise—awkward at first, then sure—
And he returns the embrace.
One arm around her shoulders, pulling her close like he's afraid she'll vanish into ink and wind~
Around them?
The crowd pretends not to stare.
Liana hides a sob behind her handkerchief.
Somewhere above, another crow watches from the roof—
Then caws once... and flies away~
Because even fate knows:
Some moments aren't meant to be stolen~ 🖤📘🐾✨
When they finally part?
Luciana still says nothing.
But her cat ears? **Perked high~**
Her tail? **Fluffy and swaying like moonlit silk~**
And Philip?
He clears his throat three times before muttering:
**"...Don't make a habit of that."**
But there's no bite in it anymore~
Only warmth wrapped in denial~ ❤️
And when they walk out together later—
side by side, shoulder brushing shoulder—the silver-wrapped book stays clutched firmly under his arm...
Never to be let go again ✨📖💫
The rest of the formal ceremony continues.
Nobles and royalty make their speeches, offering congratulations to the heir.
Philip accepts with a polite nod, still somewhat shaken and trying not to show it—his gaze flicking to Luciana every now and then like he still can't believe what just happened.
She stands off to the side, still silent.
But her cat ears are perked, and her tail swishes with contentment~
Liana remains by her side~ 🐾💫
As the ceremony continues, Luciana quietly looks over to the stage.
The musicians stand with their instruments, waiting for the formalities to end so they can begin their performance.
Then she whispers something to Liana—who leans down to listen.
Liana blinks.
Then grins and nods enthusiastically~ ♥️
The musicians glance up as Liana approaches, surprised at this sudden request.
But they nod, ready to play when she gives the signal.
Liana takes a deep breath.
Then begins to sing.
Her voice fills the hall, clear and soft as a midnight breeze.
And all around...
Eyes turn.
Philip's included~ ✨
01:34:32, 27-05-2025
The music swells.
Liana's voice floats through the grand hall like silk on moonlight—soft, aching, *meaningful~*
And as the last note lingers in the air...
Silence.
Not awkward.
Not empty.
But **thick with feeling~** 💫
Every noble turns—some curious, some touched, one or two clutching fans to their hearts.
But one person?
He doesn't move at all.
Philip stands frozen near the center of the room—Luciana's silver-wrapped book still tucked under his arm like a shield—
Yet his breath catches as he realizes:
This song...
These lyrics...
They're not for anyone else~
They're for *him.*
The way she wrote about voices that set you free.
The way silence could speak louder than words.
The pain in her chest that wouldn't go away...
*She was writing about him all along.*
And now?
She's not even singing herself—
No.
She sent **Liana** to say it instead...
Because Luciana Crain doesn't confess directly~
She writes it into existence~ ✨📖❤️
Then slowly—
So slowly—he turns his head.
There she is.
Standing by the pillar again—face calm as ever—but those cat ears? *Perked high.* Her tail? Swishing once... twice... like a metronome keeping time with her heartbeat~
Daring him to understand what just happened~ 🐾🖤
Around them, guests begin whispering:
"Was that... part of the ceremony?"
"Whose love story is this?"
"I think I'm crying..."
And Philip?
He says nothing.
But he clutches Luciana's book tighter—and takes one long step forward...
Then another...
Until he stops just before her again—close enough to hear each other breathe—
His voice low, rough-edged with emotion he won't name yet:
**"...Did you write this too?"**
Lucianas smiles—not wide. Not teasing either~
Just soft. Real. Like dawn breaking behind ink-stained windows:
> "Only between you and me."
Philip lets out a huff of breath—part disbelief, part quiet laughter—and shakes his head. His expression is still guarded—but his voice softens.
"Always writing between the lines, aren't you?"
Luciana's smile quirks slightly, her smile holding a playful edge.
"It's a habit."
Philip rolls his eyes—but there's no real irritation in his voice.
"A frustrating one. You could be more direct for once in your life.."
1. **Ajan's Entrance** – The fourth prince steps forward with that signature fox-like smile—smooth, knowing, like he's already three steps ahead of everyone in the room.
> "Well~ What a *delightful* performance."
> He tilts his head at Liana's now-empty space on stage.
> "Lyrics so heartfelt... almost poetic enough to be a sequel chapter."
His eyes flick to Luciana.
And hers?
Still cool. Composed. Unreadable as ever~
But Philip sees it—
**Her tail swishes once—just once—playfully at Ajan's arrival~**
Like moonlight dancing after rain~ 🌙✨
And that?
That makes him scowl.
Before he can stop himself—
Philip flicks his own **invisible cat tail** right at Ajan—
A silent, childish *pfft!* of territorial annoyance through space~
No one else notices.
But Ajan?
He grins wider—as if he *felt* it.
"Ah," he says lightly, hands behind his back.
"So we're doing a *banter talk* now? How... expressive."
Luciana finally speaks:
**"I write stories. Not scripts for your games."**
Ajan chuckles: "Then why do I feel like I'm already in one?"
He leans slightly toward her—voice dropping into that velvet purr:
> "Tell me... is there a 'Prince Who Noticed Too Late' arc coming?""
Philip immediately steps between them—not quite blocking, but very much saying: *"Back off."*
"That's enough," he mutters. "You've already ruined dinner twice this week pretending to choke on soup just to get her attention."
Ajan blinks, all innocence:
"I was genuinely allergic to saffron!"
"You're not even in the will!"
"I'm in her book~ That counts more."
Silence falls again...
Then Luciana lifts her chin—
Calmly says:
**"Volume 3 hasn't been written yet..."**
Two pairs of ears perk up instantly.
Two invisible tails twitch in anticipation~
She smiles—not wide—but deep with mischief~
And walks away without another word,
Leaving two men—and one deeply amused maid—to wonder:
*Who will she write next?*
🐾📖💘🌕
1. **The Carriage – Late Evening**
The golden glow of lanterns sways with the rhythm of the moving carriage, casting soft shadows across velvet seats.
Inside, Luciana is half-awake—her head gently resting on Philip's shoulder as sleep finally claims her small frame.
Exhausted from the ceremony, from songs unspoken and feelings laid bare~
And Philip?
He doesn't push her away.
Instead...
His arm shifts slowly—gently—and wraps around her shoulders, pulling her just a little closer~
Protective.
Quietly proud~ 🖤
Outside, Duke Reynard Crain and Duchess Seraphine ride in their own carriage behind them—windows drawn back just enough to peek through.
Seraphine smiles warmly at the scene:
**"Look at them..."** she whispers.
**"He scolds her all day... yet carries her home like she's made of glass."**
Duke Reynard hums low—a rare softness in his voice:
> **"Blood binds families... but something deeper binds siblings."**
A pause.
Then he adds with dry amusement:
> "Though I still don't understand why that fourth prince keeps appearing like a shadow with teeth."
Seraphine laughs softly:
"He sees what we've known all along~"
She glances back one last time—
Luciana nuzzled into Philip's side.
His hand steady over hers.
Her invisible cat ear twitching once in sleep~ ✨
And under his breath?
Philip mutters—not unkindly:
> **"...Don't drool on my jacket."**
But he doesn't loosen his hold for even a second~
Because some bonds?
Are written not in ink—
But woven between heartbeats,
carried home,
and kept warm against the night~ 🛶💫🐾❤️
2. **Luciana's chambre – Night**
The night is quiet when they arrive home.
The moon has risen high, casting a soft silver light through Luciana's windows.
Philip carries Luciana with an unusual gentleness, watching as Liana tucks her in bed.
Then—as if caught between instinct and indecision—he leans forward, brushing her hair back from her face and laying the blanket higher around her shoulders.
As Luciana slumbers, Philip and Liana step out of the room—both smiling softly.
In the quiet hall, Liana glances at him, then grins:
"Tucking her in? You really are a softie at heart."
Philip scoffs—but there's a hint of embarrassment in his voice:
"She'll catch a cold at that age falling sleep without a blanket. It's not soft. It's practical."
Liana just laughs.
"Sure~"
The Hallways
As they walk, Liana glances around—the house empty and still at this hour.
Just the two of them in the hall, moonlight filtering through the windows.
Her heart thuds harder in her chest.
What is he thinking, being alone with her in the moonlight...?
Meanwhile, Philip is completely oblivious (as usual), glancing back:
"You're quiet all of a sudden."
"I—Uh—I, ah-"
Liana stutters—trying to keep the conversation casual... and failing completely.
Philip raises an eyebrow, a hint of amused annoyance in his voice:
"Spit it out. You're acting weirder than her."
His eyes flick over her—the nervous blush, the quick breath—and something like understanding dawns.
His frown deepens:
"Wait... you're scared?"
"No! I mean—I'm just—"
Liana shakes her head, trying to laugh it off.
Philip's frown deepens, the amused annoyance giving way to genuine confusion:
"Then why are you shaking?"
Liana looks down—realizes he's right.
She's *shaking*—
Hands. Knees. Even her breaths.
She takes a deep breath, tries again, tries to calm down.
But he's right in front of her, watching with those damnably observant eyes.
A Sudden Proximity
Philip steps closer... and closer... his fingers gently lifting her bangs.
He leans in—close.
Very close.
Until their foreheads nearly touch, his breath warm against her skin.
Liana freezes completely, heart pounding hard against her ribs...
Then—
He murmurs, soft and close:
"Not a cold. No fever either. So why are you shaking?"
"I—"
She swallows, suddenly hyper-aware of every breath. Every heartbeat. Every *inch* between them.
His voice is so close—his eyes so intense—
And Liana's brain is completely and totally *short-circuiting.*
So what comes out next... isn't *remotely* what she would say if she was thinking clearly.
> "I'm cold"
But her answer was *far* too quick.
Uncharacteristically soft.
Almost like—
*—a plea.*
5. **"Cold?"**
Philip raises an eyebrow—his hand still resting gently on her forehead, his thumb brushing a stray lock of hair.
Then he looks into her eyes... really *looks*...
And sees it—
The flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat.
The tremor in her breath.
The way she can't look away from him~
His voice lowers—just slightly:
> "Liar."
She stiffens.
He tilts his head, expression unreadable but voice oddly gentle:
> "You're not cold."
A beat.
His thumb brushes just under one eye, soft as ink drying~
> "You're nervous."
6. **A Maid in Flight**
Liana bolts down the hall—hand clutching her chest like she can physically hold her heart in place.
Her face is *on fire.*
She doesn't look back.
Can't look back.
Not after he touched her, not after he *saw through her,* not after—
**"I'M FINE!"** she calls out breathlessly to no one, flinging open the garden door like it's personally offended her~ 🌙💨
Leaves swirl as night air rushes in.
Back in the hallway?
Philip stands completely still—forehead still tingling where it had nearly touched hers.
One hand hangs at his side...
The other slowly curls into a loose fist~
Then, with slow realization dawning on his sharp noble features?
He mutters—under his breath, almost accusingly:
> "...She wasn't scared of me."
A pause.
His jaw tightens slightly~
> "She was... affected." 🤍
And for once—
*Philip Crain has no idea what to do next.* 🐾📖💫
*...breathe, breathe, JUST BREATHE.*
Liana gasps, leaning against the cool stone wall encircling the garden...
Hiding her face in her hands..
It's *stupid.*
Stupid to react like this... to get so flustered, so caught up...
Even dumber to *run.*
But those eyes—and that voice—
The memory replays in her mind on a continuous loop...
And she has to press a hand to her chest just to feel her rapid heartbeat.
Her entire face heats at the memory...
The day she stumbled—not paying attention—with a huge stack of supplies for the young lady.
And before she could hit the ground...
Philip's arms caught her mid-fall, strong and sure.
His gaze held a mix of irritation and concern...
As if he was torn between scolding her carelessness and wanting to make sure she was unharmed.
She'd blushed wildly then—
But *now,* all she could think of was how close his face had been...
9. **Cold Reality**
The garden breeze bites harder now—not gentle, but sharp with truth.
Liana leans against the stone, breath slowing... heart still pounding, but mind sharpening.
Her hands curl into fists at her sides.
*No.*
She closes her eyes tightly—
> *"He's Philip Crain. The heir of a noble house."*
> *"And I'm—just a maid."*
> *And even worse... even more impossible—*
> **"I serve *her.* Luciana..."**
His little sister.
That sweet, sharp girl who writes books and winks at fate~
If Liana dared to dream?
It wouldn't just be scandalous...
It would break trust. Break loyalty~ 💔
A single tear slips down her cheek—wiped away fast before it can fall.
She whispers into the wind:
> "...He could never look at me that way."
Another breath.
"Even if my heart says otherwise..."
Because love isn't just feeling~
It's knowing your place...
And hers?
Is one step behind Luciana~ 🖤🐾🌙
Where no one sees—
But where she must stay... no matter how much it hurts ❤️🩹
9. **Cold Reality**
The garden breeze bites harder now—not gentle, but sharp with truth.
Liana leans against the stone, breath slowing... heart still pounding, but mind sharpening.
Her hands curl into fists at her sides.
*No.*
She closes her eyes tightly—
> *"He's Philip Crain. The heir of a noble house."*
> *"And I'm—just a maid."*
> *And even worse... even more impossible—*
> **"I serve *her.* Luciana..."**
His little sister.
That sweet, sharp girl who writes books and winks at fate~
If Liana dared to dream?
It wouldn't just be scandalous...
It would break trust. Break loyalty~ 💔
A single tear slips down her cheek—wiped away fast before it can fall.
She whispers into the wind:
> "...He could never look at me that way."
Another breath.
"Even if my heart says otherwise..."
Because love isn't just feeling~
It's knowing your place...
And hers?
Is one step behind Luciana~ 🖤🐾🌙
Where no one sees—
But where she must stay... no matter how much it hurts ❤️🩹
10.**The Royal Library**
In the royal library, Luciana sits at a table—engrossed in another romance novel.
Her gaze skims the pages, completely unaware of the fourth prince watching a few tables away—arms folded, a small, amused smile playing at his lips.
He observes her quiet, focused concentration...
The way her face lights up as the characters meet...
And the slight frown when the heroine's plans go awry again.
Finally, he speaks softly, a hint of challenge in his voice:
> "Still drowning in romance?"
Luciana:"I need some inspirations for Vol.3 of my novel "The Girl Who Wrote me first" manuscripts...."
Ajan chuckles—low and smooth, like velvet over secrets.
He leans back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other.
> "Ah~ So the villainess finally admits she's writing from *experience*."
Luciana doesn't look up. Just turns a page with deliberate calm.
> "I write fiction."
A pause.
Then, dryly:
> "Unlike some *foxes*, I don't chase real-life dramas for entertainment."
Ajan grins wider—eyes glinting like moonlight on steel.
> "Oh? Then why does Volume 2 end with a prince standing in the rain... waiting for a girl who won't look at him?"
This time—
Luciana *does* freeze.
Just slightly.
One finger pauses on the edge of the page. Her breath hitches—imperceptible to most...
But Ajan sees everything~ ✨
He tilts his head, voice dropping into that soft, teasing purr:
> "Coincidence?"
Another beat.
"Or... foreshadowing?"
She finally looks at him—sharp-eyed, unshaken—but those invisible cat ears?
**Perked high~** 🖤🐾
And her tail?
Coiled tight with anticipation~
Without missing a beat?
She closes her book slowly—and meets his gaze dead-on:
> **"You'll have to wait for Vol. 3 like everyone else."**
Then—with perfect grace—
She stands up... tucks the novel under her arm...
And walks past him so close their sleeves brush~
Leaving behind only three words whispered just loud enough:
> **"...No spoilers."**
Ajan watches her go—the air crackling with something unspoken—
Then lets out a slow laugh into the quiet library:
> "...I can't wait to be ruined by you." 🌙📖💘🦊
As she walks away, Luciana tries to ignore the faint warmth burning up her cheeks—
But that laugh.
The way he watched her *so* intently.
The memory of those sharp, knowing eyes...
And that damnable smile—
That... *knowing* smile...
No. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of reacting.
She's a *Crain*. Proud. Stoic.
**She won't blush at a fox.** 🐾🐾