As Bella, Amélie, and Johnson reached the gathering area, the crowd had already packed tightly beneath the wide balcony from which the royal family was expected to appear. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, whispers rising like faint smoke above the nobles' heads.
Bella andAmélie continued forward with measured steps toward their designated spot, while Johnson clung to Amélie's dress from time to time, observing everyone with pure, childlike curiosity.
In a fleeting moment, two women passed beside them, speaking in low voices-though not low enough to escape Bella's ears.
The first said,
"The Queen… she seems very kind. Almost too kind. As if she's trying to prove something."
The second replied with a tone of disdain wrapped in a manufactured smile,
"She's only trying to prevent what happened in the past from happening again. But… no one has that kind of charisma for no reason. The question is-will it last? Or will she one day bow to the future Crown Prince's wife? If such a woman even exists."
Bella stopped walking.
Not an obvious stop-just a small freeze in the movement of her foot, as if a word had lodged itself in her mind like a nail.
The future Crown Prince's wife.
The voices continued, but the words blurred into noise.
She replayed the sentence… weighed it… turned it over inside her already restless thoughts.
She looked down at the ground for a second, as though trying to absorb what was never meant to be said aloud in public.
"Bella?"
Amélie called out, turning back when she noticed Bella had stopped.
The sound of her name snapped Bella back to reality. She blinked quickly, shook her head slightly, and forced her feet to move again.
"Coming," she said briefly, then caught up with Amélie as if nothing had happened.
Inside her, however, the words kept buzzing-relentlessly.
Bella and Amélie took their places among the aligned rows of nobles, all heads tilted upward toward the royal balcony, awaiting the annual moment of appearance. The air was heavy with tense murmurs, strong perfumes, and the kind of social pretense Bella knew far better than she wished.
Amélie sighed with obvious boredom and said with bitter sarcasm,
"I've memorized the script word for word. The royal family appears… people applaud… the king gives a short speech… one noble faints from nerves… the queen smiles… curtain closes. I could reenact the whole thing in my sleep."
Bella chuckled lightly at the comment, but the laughter faded quickly, as if another mind had switched on inside her head. She fell silent for a moment, staring into the empty space before her without truly seeing it.
Then she suddenly turned to Amélie and asked in a low but serious voice,
"Amélie… if you were a queen… would you bow to someone? Even if your rank was higher than everyone else's?"
Amélie didn't hesitate-not even for a second. The answer seemed to rise from her heart rather than her mind.
"I wouldn't bow to anyone," she said calmly, without the slightest hint of performance.
"But if it ever happened… it would be to someone whose status was higher here."
She placed her hand over her chest.
"Not higher in bloodlines. Not in palaces."
Then she tilted her head slightly, studying Bella with curiosity.
"Why? Where did that question come from?"
Bella's gaze darted sideways, as if dodging a spotlight aimed straight at her. She fixed her eyes on the royal balcony and replied neutrally,
"Nothing… just a passing thought. Don't mind it."
Amélie raised an eyebrow, ready to ask another question-but Bella cut her off immediately, whispering,
"Quiet… the show is about to begin."
Amélie exhaled audibly, then shifted her gaze toward the balcony, counting silently until the official music began. Little Johnson, resting in her arms, stared at the balcony with wide eyes-understanding nothing, caring about nothing.
The simple delight of a child in a complicated world.
The royal family emerged onto the balcony in a carefully rehearsed order, one the kingdom knew as well as its national anthem.
First came King Philip I, standing with the steady confidence of a man who knows all eyes are on him. His blond hair was slicked back, his sharp violet eyes calm yet piercing, his features strong and composed. Tall, with a well-built frame, he wore a noble purple ensemble accented with gold.
Beside him stood Queen Elaine, elegant as always, her serene smile lending the space a sense of dignity. Her soft pink-blond hair was styled neatly into a rounded bun shaped like a rose. Her green, gently drooping eyes gave her a tender, tranquil presence. She wore a light blue noblewoman's gown adorned with touches of red, yellow, and green.
Behind them appeared the five princesses, young and impeccably dressed, each carrying a different blend of the queen's beauty and the king's sternness.
Finally came the Crown Prince-a handsome young man, tall in stature, with long golden hair falling straight down his back in a display of strict discipline. His cold, luminous violet eyes gave him a striking presence. He wore a white noble uniform trimmed with gold, accentuating his athletic, well-proportioned build and granting him a quiet authority that needed no explanation. On his shoulders rested a practiced calm-one everyone knew was learned rather than natural.
The Queen Mother-the grandmother-also appeared, her steps slow but steady, accompanied by other members of the royal family, nodding and wearing those official smiles that seemed more fixed than the stones of the palace itself.
The king raised his hand, and silence fell.
He began his brief speech:
"We welcome you all… we wish you a distinguished day… and always remember that service to the nation begins with sincere intention…"
The usual phrases, repeated every year-but Bella wasn't truly listening.
She was staring, yes… looking… but thinking.
Her inner voice commented with clear sarcasm:
"Man… wrap it up. If you knew how much I've hated lines since childhood… I used to escape school queues, and now I'm forced into ceremonial ones. Same thing-just more expensive clothes. Life has a very annoying sense of repetition."
She blinked slowly, trying not to show her boredom, while internally she was writing an entire book of satire.
The king finally finished his speech, and with the last word, applause rose like waves.
Everyone clapped. Bella joined in with minimal enthusiasm, as she always did.
The royal family offered their closing smiles, then slowly withdrew back into the balcony.
The moment they disappeared, the gathering dissolved as if someone had unlocked a massive latch.
The nobles scattered immediately: Some headed toward the palace halls.
Some moved toward the gardens.
Some remained where they were, simply to be seen.
As for Bella… She assessed the scene with a critical eye, preparing herself for the next stage of her long day.
Amélie adjusted Johnson on her arm before turning to Bella and speaking softly,
"Bella… I need your help. I want to look for my aunt. I don't know where she disappeared to."
Bella lifted an eyebrow slightly, then let out an honest sigh that expressed the boredom of an entire purposeless day.
"At least you have a mission. I have nothing to do except wander aimlessly… or run from endless social conversations."
Amélie smiled, as if she had found the perfect opening.
"All right then-come with me. Consider it an escape."
Bella nodded in agreement without hesitation.
"Accepted. Let's start before one of the nobles grabs me and asks for my opinion on fiscal policy."
Amélie laughed lightly. Bella and Amélie exchanged a quick glance and were about to move off to search for Johnson's aunt when a voice called out from behind them:
"Bella!"
They both turned at once.
Madame Claire de Leclaire was approaching them with graceful steps, waving as though greeting two girls who had just returned from a long journey. Her beauty was the kind that betrayed no age at all: coal-black hair cascading over her shoulders, flawless pale skin, and striking, icy-blue eyes that gleamed like polished crystal. Her deep blue gown looked as though it had been tailored for a woman born to be noble.
The moment she reached them, she pulled Bella into a sudden, tight embrace. Bella choked briefly from the force before lifting a hand and patting her mother's back in gentle surrender. The difference in height was obvious-Claire's head barely reached Bella's neck-but her energy more than made up for it.
Claire stepped back, holding her daughter's cheeks as if she hadn't seen her in months, and said with pure theatrical flair:
"Even if I saw you yesterday, that does not mean you're allowed to abandon your poor mother to get lost in the crowds. I was just about to launch a royal search party for you."
Bella exhaled slowly, fully aware that her mother was exaggerating-but, as always, she let her finish the performance. She replied kindly,
"That's exactly why we were about to look for you. Amélie was going to help me too… right, Amélie?"
Amélie nodded immediately-enthusiastically but a little too deliberately-and said quickly,
"Of course. We were… searching… very seriously."
But little Johnson, cradled in Amélie's arms, burst into childish laughter and announced loudly, with confident certainty,
"She's lying."
Bella's smile froze.
Amélie's eyes widened.
A public silence-two full seconds.
Claire? Completely unfazed. Not even one percent affected.
She bent down toward the child with a warm smile and said,
"And who is this sweetheart? Is he from your family, Amélie?"
Amélie looked like she was standing before a supreme court. She answered, trying to keep herself together,
"This is… Johnson. My cousin's son."
Claire reached out and gently brushed a hand through his hair. He let out a small giggle, utterly unconcerned with the social explosion he had just caused.
Bella, meanwhile, looked up at the sky for a moment, as if checking whether fate was doing this on purpose.
Claire remained bent toward Johnson, showering him with that regal kindness that made any child feel like the most important person in Versailles. The boy laughed again, blissfully unaware that seconds earlier he had detonated a minor social bomb.
As for Bella… she stared at him darkly-a look that clearly said: You owe me an apology, small creature.
In response, Amélie shot Bella a silent look like a slap: Please. He's a child. Let him survive until at least five.
That delicate moment shattered when a calm, confident male voice spoke from behind them:
"At last-I've found you, runaway princess of the palace."
All three turned at once.
Monsieur Edmond de Montmorency-Bella's father-was approaching with the steady stride of a man who knew exactly the impact of his presence. In his forties, yes-but the kind that made people wonder why other humans were even allowed to exist when someone like him walked among them.
His black hair was slicked back, save for two stubborn strands falling onto his forehead like a signature detail. His dark blue eyes, behind elegant glasses, carried a dangerous charm. A perfectly tailored black suit, and an athletic build that didn't need to show off-because the fabric did the talking.
He pulled Bella into a strong embrace that made her raise her eyebrows in surprise.
"Dad… you're crushing me."
"That's because my daughter enjoys escaping from her elderly parents," he said gently, though real reproach lingered beneath the warmth.
Bella lifted her head to look at him-he was slightly taller than her-and he added with a sideways smile,
"If you were just a bit taller, you might've thought twice before leaving us in the crowd."
At that moment, Amélie launched into a sharp internal monologue:
Elderly? Elderly? If anyone looked at the three of you for more than three seconds, they'd think you were siblings in your twenties-and Bella the spoiled youngest one. How did all this beauty gather in one family? Who allowed this kind of genetics? And Bella-what is she, an upgraded version? A third edition?
Little Johnson, meanwhile, stared up at Edmond with genuine awe, then said with devastating innocence,
"You're… taller than your daughter!"
Claire laughed.
Amélie laughed.
Bella released the kind of sigh that comes right before an explosion.
As for her father, he patted the boy's head and said proudly,
"And that makes me very proud."
Just like that… the miniature family drama expanded naturally.
The small drama continued to grow its roots around them, while nobles moved in the background like part of a massive, ever-shifting backdrop.
Claire stood beside her husband, wearing a soft smile.
"Now that we've found our runaway daughter… what's the plan?"
Bella lifted her hand casually, as if declaring a calculated surrender.
"Amélie is looking for her aunt on behalf of this sharp-tongued child. And I'm… a volunteer in the rescue operation."
Her mother laughed lightly, then turned to Amélie.
"So you're in charge."
Amélie offered a tense smile, trying to look composed while Johnson cheerfully swung his little leg over her arm.
As things settled, Edmond stepped forward and placed a gentle, fatherly hand on Bella's back.
"All right… we won't delay you any longer. Just-"
He looked directly at Bella, seriousness softened by affection.
"Don't disappear into the crowd again. Understood?"
Bella replied with a half-smile.
"I'll try. No promises."
He nodded, as if he had expected exactly that answer, then turned to Claire.
"We'll let them continue their heroic mission."
Before leaving, Claire bent toward Johnson one last time and patted his cheek.
"If Bella says anything unpleasant to you… tell me immediately."
Here, Bella let out a faint protest.
"Mom… he's not a tiny informant."
But Johnson blinked once and said, with absolute confidence,
"I will tell you immediately."
Amélie nearly dropped the child laughing.
Bella covered her face.
"Oh God… this child is a walking disaster."
Claire and Edmond departed surrounded by the naturally polished aura of royal charm they carried so effortlessly, leaving behind a mix of awkward silence and suppressed laughter.
Bella and Amélie stood there for a single second, processing what had just happened. Then Bella brushed off her shoulders and said,
"All right. Let's find your aunt before someone comes back and decides to give us another lecture."
Amélie laughed and added as she walked beside her,
"And after that… if we don't find her… maybe the three of us disappear."
Bella replied instantly,
"Agreed. At least this escape would finally have a purpose these days."
And so the trio-Bella, Amélie, and sharp-tongued Johnson-continued deeper into the corridors of Versailles, ready for the next round of noble adventures… or social disasters.
---
One Hour Later
In the private guest bedroom of Bella and Amory
Bella's room in the Palace of Versailles felt like a natural extension of the palace itself-a vast canvas painted in five royal colors: light blue reminiscent of a summer sky, red hinting at power, gold that unapologetically declared wealth, white to balance it all, and a touch of lavender that softened the entire scene.
Bella pushed the door open and stepped inside, barely standing on her feet. Her steps were so heavy they suggested she had just returned from a battlefield-not from a ridiculous search mission. The moment she spotted the bed, she threw herself onto it without hesitation, as if surrendering her soul to a final savior.
Amory lifted his head from his laptop at the exact same moment. He was seated at the small table near the window, dressed simply yet elegantly-a shirt with the top button undone and dark trousers that made him look like he was either heading to an important meeting… or just sitting in the room. Because this man simply didn't know how to look "ordinary."
He looked at her with an expression that was half concern, half amusement.
"What happened to you?"
"You look like you ran through the entire palace."
Bella replied in a muffled voice, her face buried in the bed:
"We were looking for Amélie's aunt… to return Johnson to her. I swear, Amory-Versailles is huge. Huge enough to swallow you whole while you're walking."
Amory closed the laptop slowly, as if preparing for a strategic discussion.
"And… Did you finally find the aunt?"
Bella lifted one hand weakly into the air, then let it fall back onto the bed.
"Yes. After Amélie suddenly remembered… that she has her aunt's number. She called her.
Turns out the aunt was very close. Close enough to be funny."
Two seconds of silence passed.
Then Amory raised an eyebrow-the unmistakable signal that a sarcastic comment was on its way.
"So… you spent all that time walking around the palace… when you could've called her from the beginning?"
Bella didn't move. She only slowly turned one eye toward him and let out a fake, rough laugh-the kind that screams: I don't have the energy to argue, but I know you're right.
She said tiredly:
"Yes, Mr. Genius… that's exactly what happened."
Amory chuckled quietly, enjoying the situation more than he probably should have. Then he looked at her with a mix of kindness and obvious amusement.
"Well… at least you got a free workout today."
Bella replied without lifting her head:
"If 'workout' means I won't be able to move tomorrow-then yes. I got one."
She buried her face deeper into the silk pillow and muttered:
"I'm not built for this life… the kind where I have to run between people and gardens."
Amory approached quietly and sat on the edge of the bed beside her, lightly touching her head as if comforting a grumpy cat.
"Relax… you're in the room now. And I won't let anyone drag you into another mission today."
Bella let out a sound that resembled suffocated satisfaction.
"Great… finally someone who understands."
And she gave in completely, with zero intention of moving, as if the bed had swallowed her whole.
Elsewhere in the Palace
Queen Elaine's Bedroom
In Queen Elaine's bedroom, the Queen sat before her vanity mirror, brushing her long hair-a blend of soft blonde and pink-while the morning light streamed gently over each strand. The royal colors filling the room-white, light green, and gold-gave the space a calm, radiant elegance.
Her daughter, Princess Camille-the third in line among the older children-paced back and forth with visible tension, talking nonstop about the gathering she described as "ridiculous," an annual tradition she absolutely despised. Every step pressed harder on her nerves; she was forced to face a crowd that could reach up to 240 people, all under the watchful eyes of her mother and the rigid framework of palace formality.
Queen Elaine sighed slowly, listening to her daughter's anxiety. Then she straightened and looked at her with gentle eyes. She approached her without haste, calling softly:
"Camille…"
Camille stopped walking, her gaze dropping to the floor, a hint of sadness and confusion in her eyes. She hadn't expected her mother to embrace her with such tenderness. The Queen placed one hand on her daughter's shoulder and the other gently on her face, saying softly:
"As long as I'm with you, there's no reason to be afraid. I'll try to put an end to this ridiculous tradition… or at the very least, make it more bearable this year."
She stepped back slightly but didn't release her hold on Camille's hands, reassuring her:
"It's alright if you stay by my side this year as well. What matters is that you're comfortable. And through this experience, you'll learn how to deal with difficult people-even if they carry noble blood."
Camille smiled faintly, a small laugh finally escaping her, then she wrapped her arms around her mother in a warm embrace, feeling comfort and peace.
She said gratefully:
"Thank you, Mom."
Her mother replied warmly:
"I'm with you in every way, my dear."
Time Skip
As sunset approached, the Palace of Versailles appeared drenched in golden light spilling across every corner. The fading rays reflected off the ornate facades, marble columns, and tall windows, creating a breathtaking royal glow. The surrounding gardens shimmered as light danced across fountains and stone paths, like a living work of art.
Inside, the corridors buzzed with movement and life. Groups of nobles moved between rooms, each dressed in elegant attire tailored for the lavish event ahead. Women wore long, ornate gowns adorned with lace and sparkling jewels, while men donned classic formal suits-some in velvet shirts or jackets embroidered with golden threads, emphasizing their social standing.
At the same time, servants moved quietly and professionally, clad in pristine uniforms reflecting discipline and order. They carried trays of fine drinks, arranged tables with precision, and prepared to deliver impeccable service-ensuring the satisfaction of the wealthy elite who had gathered that evening for entertainment, networking, and subtle displays of power.
Every movement, every smile, every glance in this place was calculated.
The atmosphere was a blend of refinement and rigidity, laced with a subtle tension; for while the palace gleamed with color and light, everyone knew this night was not merely a celebration, but a social performance-one that demanded caution and intelligence from all who took part.
Bella walked among the guests with confident strides, wearing a regal evening gown in icy silver. The mermaid silhouette traced her figure with effortless grace. Sheer tulle, dusted with crystal shimmer, caught the light with every movement, as though the dress itself were stealing illumination from every corner of the hall.
The structured corset bodice added disciplined elegance, while the long, open cape-style sleeves that cascaded to the floor introduced a breathtaking dramatic flair. The gown's long circular train flowed behind her like a cloud of light, turning every step into a slow, deliberate, royal motion.
White diamond jewelry adorned Bella, sparkling from every angle. Her hair was tied in a simple bun, with loose strands falling softly to frame her features and enhance her femininity. Her makeup was minimal-focused only on a pale pink lipstick-giving her a natural glow that stood radiant beneath the ballroom lights.
At her side walked Amori, dressed in a formal suit matching the shade of Bella's gown. His neatly styled side-parted hair lent him an air of authority and poise. The masculine diamond watch on his wrist was more than an accessory-it was a statement of value and luxury, each movement reflecting quiet confidence and composed control amid the sea of nobles and lights.
Eyes followed them with every step-not only because of Bella's striking beauty, but because of the royal harmony between them. It was as if every detail-from the gown to the subtle smile-had been designed to tell a story of power, beauty, and unmatched refinement.
Bella and Amori walked side by side in perfect sync, each holding the other's arm. Bella's free hand carried a pale gray clutch, as soft in color as morning snow. To an onlooker, they might have seemed like the ideal couple, sharing light laughter-but the truth was more complex. Their shared smiles were not born of romance, but of sharp, silent sarcasm exchanged between them, unnoticed by everyone else.
A woman passed by wearing an excessively glittering dress, her makeup so heavy it nearly glowed in the dim light. Bella shot Amori a quick glance and whispered, "She looks like a disco ball that lost its coordinates… from another planet."
Amori replied with a restrained smile, "Or at least a disco ball that escaped a disco party unworthy of her shine."
They exchanged discreet looks before turning toward a group of nobles-among them a bald man whose head gleamed under the lights so intensely it made the chandeliers look shy. Bella murmured, "His head has become a polished steel plate… should I ask for his autograph?"
Amori chuckled softly. "If I were a professional bowler, I'd probably mistake him for the real ball."
The subtle mockery continued: a woman walking in an exaggerated manner, as if she had drafted her steps on paper before executing them; a large man speaking so loudly each word felt like a miniature earthquake. Each time, they exchanged glances, whispered lightly, and laughed under their breath-sharing a private language the entire world understood, except the nobles standing before them.
This wasn't mere humor.
It was a quiet performance of sharp wit-playing with the surface of noble society without leaving a trace. Their laughter was discreet, deep, and rooted in a world entirely their own, surrounded by layers of performative elegance.
"I think tonight will be easier than I expected…" Bella whispered.
"As long as the audience remains unaware… yes," Amori replied with a secretive smile, their arms still linked as they continued walking through the lights and muted laughter-appearing as the most elegant couple in the room… and the most mischievous at the same time.
As Bella and Amori moved gracefully forward, hands intertwined, they passed a small circle of noblewomen standing together, exchanging delicate whispers. Once the couple had moved a short distance away, the conversation grew more candid.
"Did you see her look?" one of them said, touching her necklace softly, as if measuring Bella's effect on the room.
"Everything she wears looks perfect on her… even the simplest details," another added, her tone a mix of admiration and envy.
One woman smiled calmly, almost sternly. "What did we expect? She's held the title of the most beautiful girl in the world since she was young-and kept first place for nine consecutive years, ever since she entered the spotlight in 2010 at the age of seventeen."
Another sighed thoughtfully. "Before her, the title would sometimes shift-one winner or two. But since Bella appeared, no one else has claimed first place."
The third smiled coolly, offering an honest admission. "To be fair… she deserves it. Truly. Every single year."
As the women continued exchanging admiration and envy, Bella and Amori walked on in silent smiles, completely unaware of the whispered discussions behind their backs-while the palace lights shimmered upon them, as though affirming the natural grandeur Bella carried effortlessly.
In one of the grand dining halls of the Palace of Versailles, where long tables stretched beneath crystal chandeliers, the nobles sat in precisely assigned places befitting royal protocol. The murmurs of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the soft live music created a layer of luxury that felt almost tangible.
Amori stepped forward with practiced elegance and pulled out Bella's chair with the precision of a man who knew exactly how to perform his role before an audience. She sat gracefully, and he took his seat beside her.
As soon as Bella settled in, her eyes began scanning the rows, searching for a familiar face. Amori noticed instantly-like a husband attuned to every subtle movement.
"What are you looking for?" he asked quietly, taking a small sip from his glass.
"I'm looking for Amélie," Bella replied, still surveying the room.
"I want her to sit with us."
Amori raised an eyebrow with mock irritation.
"Lovely. I was trying to ignore the idea that Lucien might steal you away-now I also have to worry about Amélie stealing you from me."
Bella turned to him slowly, wearing that sarcastic smile that clearly said my dear, don't exaggerate, then laughed softly.
In the next moment, Bella finally spotted Amélie, who seemed lost among the seats, scanning the hall for an empty place. Bella raised her hand and called out clearly,
"Amélie! Over here!"
Amélie turned immediately, clear relief washing over her face when she spotted the empty seats beside Bella. She approached quickly, pulled out the chair next to her, and sat down.
Amélie was wearing a red off-the-shoulder evening gown-bright enough to make her look like a small spark amid a sea of muted colors. Her hair was tied into a sleek ponytail, with loose strands framing her face, and her gold jewelry shimmered with every movement.
The red lipstick was the perfect finishing touch to her carefully chosen look.
She settled into her seat, smiled at Bella, then glanced at Amori as if double-checking: "I hope I didn't steal someone's seat."
Amori replied with mock seriousness, his tone friendly enough to make it obvious he was joking: "No-just nearly stole my wife. Other than that, everything's fine."
Bella laughed and lightly nudged his elbow beneath the table as the three of them officially eased into the rhythm of the elegant evening.
The time after dinner felt like a period of royal breathing space. Soft music drifted through the corridors, and the nobles spread out across the grand halls-some sampling small desserts, others pretending to enjoy conversation while secretly evaluating everyone else's outfits.
The palace balcony overlooking the garden was the perfect escape from the noise inside. The night air was cool, carrying the scent of roses and the steady murmur of the fountains. Golden light reflecting from the palace walls made the entire scene feel like it belonged in an old painting.
Amélie stood between Bella and Amori, as if she were the balance point between two completely different personalities.
She rested her forearms on the metal railing, leaning slightly forward as she watched a group of nobles strolling through the garden in their heavy formalwear. Every step they took looked unnecessarily exhausting.
She sighed. "Tell me-what kind of mind eats a full dinner, then five minutes later grabs dessert, and then goes back for meat again? That's not a human. That's a dragon."
Bella chuckled lightly, her head tilted back as she gazed at the night sky. Her arms were stretched along the railing too, officially declaring that she was done with social etiquette for the day while giving her back a break.
She replied with dry sarcasm: "I'm pretty sure one of them went back to the table just to reassure himself he paid his stomach taxes properly. Gotta collect the full portion."
Amori, meanwhile, leaned against a side pillar, lazily scrolling on his phone with no real interest. He lifted his head slowly and said in a deadpan yet amused tone: "I saw one guy eating meat and chocolate at the same time. I don't know which chapter of horror that belongs to, but I'm sure his stomach is about to submit a resignation."
Amélie snapped her head toward him. "I swear, I saw that too! I almost took a picture, but it felt… ethically inhumane."
Bella muttered, sounding like she was running on her last ounce of social energy: "Inhumane? Amélie… putting chocolate on beef is a war crime in at least sixteen countries."
Amélie burst into loud laughter, drawing the attention of two men at the far end of the balcony. She raised a hand in polite apology, then leaned toward Bella and whispered: "Wait-did you see the woman in the purple dress? The one with hair like a cotton ball?"
Bella's lips curled into a tired smile as she waved her hand weakly. "Don't tell me she was eating too."
"She was eating, walking, and yelling at her daughter. All at the same time."
Amori raised an eyebrow, lowering his phone slightly. "This isn't a party. It's a traveling circus."
Bella turned toward her husband with amused coolness. "And you're standing here acting like a front-desk employee-staring at your phone and dropping poison-level jokes."
Amori slipped the phone into his pocket. "I'm conserving my energy. The moment someone tries to start a political discussion with me, I'm gone."
Amélie laughed, lightly slapping the railing. "Imagine a noble walks up and says, 'Sir Amori, what do you think of the budget-' And you just run off like a cartoon character."
Amori pointed at her with one finger. "I do not run. Retreat is not cowardice-it's dignity. And there's no shame in trying to save yourself. What do you want, for me to stay until I die? Am I insane?"
Bella slowly nodded, as if confirming he truly said that. "So if a noble approaches you right now?"
"I'll run." He leaned further back to prove his point.
Amélie sighed, brushing her hair back. "Honestly… if you two weren't here, I'd have collapsed. The party is nice-but 240 people?"
Bella replied, tired yet amused: "I feel like if we just collected the sound of their breathing, we'd have a brand-new national anthem."
Amori looked down at the crowd below and said confidently: "This wasn't a party. This was an endurance test. Anyone who survives deserves a medal."
Bella turned to both of them, her eyes sparkling with exhaustion and laughter: "But at least… It's nice out here. Cool air. And no one asking me about European trade."
Amélie lifted her face to the sky. "You're right."
A short silence settled between them-the good kind-where each of them took a real break from all the royal pretension.
Then Amélie broke it, raising one eyebrow. "So… which one of you is ready to go back in?"
Bella gasped dramatically. "Go back? Why? Haven't we finished today's punishment?"
Amori said, pulling his phone out again: "I'll go in only if you promise no one asks me about tax reform."
Bella replied, "Set a realistic goal, Amori."
The laughter they shared was light, genuine, and filled with that rare, comforting feeling of stealing a small moment of freedom inside a palace that felt endlessly large.
Amélie chatted with them a little longer, then lightly ran her tongue over her dry lips and said calmly: "Oh… I'm thirsty. I'll go get something to drink."
Before she could move, Amori lifted his head and said in a practical tone, like he was issuing a government decree: "I'll come with you. I need something to eat. Standing for an hour without appetizers is a clear violation of human rights."
Amélie laughed softly, while Bella shook her head in amused disbelief.
Amori tucked his phone away and looked directly at Bella. "And you? Coming with us, or staying?"
Bella shrugged lightly, resting one hand against the marble pillar. "No… I'll stay a bit. It's quiet and comfortable here. You two go-and bring me a cold juice. And appetizers, please."
Amélie smiled. "Deal. Stay here-we'll be back with everything."
Amori made a reassuring gesture, as if to say "consider it done, then added with serious sarcasm: "Just don't get into trouble while we're gone."
Bella laughed softly, waving them off. "Go already-you two are the real disasters here. I'm not the one anyone should worry about."
Amélie clapped, laughing. "Did you hear that? That's an officially documented insult."
Amori replied, "We'll return it later," wearing that small, fully confident smile.
Then the two of them walked off together, their footsteps gradually fading into the inner corridor-Amélie animatedly debating which juice to choose, while Amori interrupted, insisting she absolutely not pick something he called 'insomnia-flavored juice'.
Bella remained alone on the balcony. The air brushed against her hair, and silence flowed slowly around her, as if the place had finally reclaimed its calm heartbeat.
The balcony had grown quieter after Amélie and Amori left, as though even the wind was holding its breath. Bella leaned against the metal pillar, her shoulders relaxed, hands resting at her sides. She watched their steps fading down the corridor back inside, then smiled faintly before tilting her head toward the sky.
The night was as candid as always: sparkling stars, a shy half-moon, and a cold breeze brushing her nearly makeup-free skin. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, letting the calm seep into her chest. Loose strands of hair escaped her bun, moving lightly, delicate touches from the wind.
She opened her eyes slowly, shifting her gaze to the vast garden below. The paved paths gleamed with the palace lights, and nobles moved in small groups here and there-laughter, hushed conversations, footsteps audible in the distance.
But suddenly, something caught her eye.
Two men.
They stood under the shadow of a massive tree at the edge of the walkway, unnervingly close to each other, sending a clear message: we are not here to exchange pleasantries.
The first was tall and thin, shoulders slightly slouched, as if used to carrying more than his share of weight. The second was broader, standing with unusual steadiness, his head lowered but eyes darting quickly, scanning every corner.
They weren't speaking audibly. Their lips moved fast, and tension radiated from every small gesture: raised brows, tightened mouths, a fleeting glance over the shoulder. With her experience-or rather, her sharp instincts-Bella immediately recognized that this wasn't just another boring social discussion.
She stared a few seconds longer than necessary, until she felt that one of them sensed her gaze; the broader man straightened suddenly, turning his head slightly, as if sniffing the air for the watcher.
Bella didn't move. She leaned slightly forward, her hand sliding along the edge of the pillar, adjusting her posture at the smallest degree.
Yet her eyes followed them.
And for a brief, brief moment… their gazes met.
The tall man lifted his eyes toward the balcony, and upon realizing she was watching, pretended to look elsewhere-but it was clear he knew her-or at least knew he shouldn't be seen.
Bella narrowed her eyes lightly. No fear. No tension. Just cold, confident curiosity.
The wind brushed past again, its chill making her fingertips tingle slightly, but her mind remained steady: this was not ordinary chatter. Nor just two men trying to escape the party's noise.
Something was happening.
And that something had chosen the very wrong moment to appear in front of Bella Leclair.
She finally turned her head away from the men, as if deciding-efficiently, ruthlessly-that they didn't deserve more than the few seconds she had granted. Then she bent gracefully to pick up her bag at her feet on the marble balcony floor.
Her slender fingers opened the bag gently; the faint metallic click of the clasp mingled with the whisper of the wind. She pulled her phone out without haste, as if announcing to herself that matters had now moved to a more serious level.
She straightened. Her shoulders rose with confidence, her spine returned to its natural, regal posture.
With a subtle gesture, she opened the screen, then moved her finger rapidly and deliberately through the contact list. She didn't search for an app. She didn't search for a message. Straight to the calls section.
She knew exactly who she wanted.
She paused for a short psychological beat-not a minute in time, but the moment before making a decision that could open a new door of events. Then she pressed the name.
She lifted the phone to her ear.
Standing firm.
Her gaze was neutral… controlled to a frightening degree.
The line rang once. Twice. Three times…
Finally:
"Hello?"
The voice was male, low, calm-but failed to hide a subtle undertone of greeting.
Only then did a small smile appear on Bella's lips.
Not a friendly smile. Not a delicate, pretty one.
A mocking, confident smile, the kind that knows what it wants… and knows exactly what it saw moments ago.
To be continued…