A hand touched her shoulder—
G6's eyes snapped open. Threat.
—and the world became sharp.
Before the last fog of sleep cleared, her body moved. Her fingers closed around the closest weapon—a hair stick—and its sharp end pressed against a soft throat.
Tina's pulse fluttered against the metal.
G6's hand had moved before her brain caught up. A beat of silence.
"My lady…?" Tina whispered, perfectly still.
Oh.
Shit.
Noblewomen don't sleep with improvised shivs.
With the grace of a burglar caught mid-crawl, G6 lowered the stick. "Bad dream," she muttered, her voice rough. A bad dream where I almost stabbed the maid. Totally normal.
Tina cleared her throat, adjusting her glasses with the composure of someone now mentally calculating hazard pay. "It is near noon, my lady." Also, you've lost your mind.
G6 sat rigid on the bed, replaying the last five seconds like a tragic blooper reel.
Tina sighed. "I'll fetch your tea." Extra sugar. For the shock. And possibly my future eulogy.
As the door shut, G6 stared at the hair stick. It seemed to judge her. You're a disgrace to the profession.
Second day in Fantasyland, and she'd already:
✓ Modified hair decor into a lethal weapon.
✓ Nearly turned her maid into a pincushion.
Reise's reputation was officially more fucked than it was before. All thanks to her.
❈.❈.❈
Tina set the tea tray down with silent precision, her eyes flicking to G6—now Lady Reise—who was slouched in her chair like a bored mercenary. The old Reise would have screamed about posture for an hour.
G6 poked at her teacup. "Why is it pink?"
"Rosehip, my lady. Your favorite."
"Tastes like potpourri died in here." G6 downed it in one gulp, like a shot of cheap whiskey. Tina's eyelid twitched.
Silence. Then—
"What's with the floral crime scene in the tub?" G6 jerked her thumb toward the bathroom, where a heap of crushed rose petals floated like evidence.
Tina's smile strained. "Your rose-petal bath, my lady. For your… complexion."
Inner Tina: She's overwhelmed. That's all. Not clinically insane.
G6 stared at the petals, then at her own soft, useless hands. "Right. Cancel that. From now on, no more flower funerals."
"Pardon?"
"I'm done with the petal shit. Next time, a bucket of water is fine. Or a hose."
Tina's soul left her body for a solid three seconds. A bucket? A hose? What in the holy skies had the Prince's neglect broken?
"Now, my la—" G6 pressed two fingers against Tina's mouth.
"Stop. 'My lady' this, 'my lady' that. Call me Reise."
Tina slowly peeled the fingers away, her expression a masterpiece of strained patience. "My lady," she said, her voice dangerously calm, "that is not how this works. The palace has eyes. One whisper of such… familiarity… and they will say the House of Worthon has lost all dignity. They will say you have gone truly mad."
She adjusted her glasses, the lenses flashing. "And while I am… adapting… to your new… vigor… I will not be the reason your house is shamed."
G6 opened her mouth, but Tina was already in motion.
"Now," Tina declared, marching to the wardrobe. "We are behind. The Queen's tea is in two hours. You are not dressed, nor bathed. We must present grace. Especially after your… seclusion." She flung the doors open.
A pastel explosion of silk, ruffles, and lace greeted them. One dress had what looked like an entire aviary stitched to the sleeve.
G6 stared, a cold dread seizing her assassin's heart. "You have got to be kidding me."
❈.❈.❈
G6 stood before the wardrobe, arms crossed. She pointed. "That one."
Tina ground her teeth. "That is a nightgown, my lady."
Huh. So what I sleep in is this fancy? Could wear it on a bad date. "Forget it. You're hopeless."
Tina seized a pink monstrosity. G6's face twisted in disgust. "I am not wearing a—"
Tina grabbed her and began undoing the nightgown ties.
G6's hand shot out, clamping around Tina's wrist. Stop, or I break it.
Tina went still. "Please… my lady."
G6's grip softened. She's just doing her job. Fine.
She stood there, limp as a doll.
Or so she thought.
"Loosen it, I can't breathe!" she gasped as Tina yanked the corset strings.
"Please don't move, then you can breathe."
"That's not how physics works!"
"My point exactly."
I swear. One chance. I'm going to burn this place.
❈.❈.❈
"Now, look at—" Tina stopped. G6's face was a mask of pure, agonized discomfort.
Tina sighed. "Just bear it a while, my lady. It will be worth it for His Highness's presence." She tried a hopeful smile.
It did not help. G6's expression soured further.
I want to disappear. Right now. Please, whatever god is listening.
"Your hair, my lady. A messy bun?" Tina reached for it.
G6 jerked back. The tattoo. No one could see it.
"Keep it down. I'm cold." Lame excuse.
Tina just nodded, guiding her to the vanity. As she brushed, G6's mind raced.
This is Chapter 2 territory. Meeting Eliza. The two other nobles—Earl and Keith. They'll be there to watch the drama. Prince Dio will ignore Reise for the commoner.
Three high-ranked heirs live here after graduation. Reise's two older brothers have been here five years. I'm just the "uncultured dog" here for marriage.
"You are ready, Lady Reise." Tina had braided her hair into a deceptively simple, elegant fall.
G6 sighed. Not nervous. Tactical. She had no memories, only the book's script.
This isn't a tea party. It's a live-fire exercise.
She stepped out of her room for the first time.
A servant girl, head down, barreled around the corner and slammed right into her.
G6 didn't stagger. The girl bounced off and hit the floor, a basket of fruit scattering.
Horrified silence. The hallway froze, waiting for the storm—the screaming, the slap.
G6 looked down. The girl trembled.
"Are you hurt?" G6's voice was flat. A damage assessment.
The girl just stared.
G6 extended a hand. A blunt, efficient gesture. "Get up. The floor's dirty."
Trembling, the girl took it. G6 pulled her to her feet.
"I'd help pick those up, but I couldn't care for more." G6 stated, then walked away.
The servant stood, stunned. Not afraid. Bewildered. The Wicked Rose had… helped? And then stated indifference?
Down the hall, two scullery maids exchanged a wide-eyed look. The rumor mill would spin wild by lunch.
Tina watched, a fleeting, real smile touching her lips before she wiped it clean.
At the back of Tina's mind—-this change… it might not be a disaster.
❈.❈.❈
This place is huge. Of course it is.
G6 walked through endless halls toward the garden, the stone cold under her thin soles. "How much longer? These heels are a tactical liability," she grumbled, hiking up her skirts.
"Lady Reise, a lady does not hike her gown."
Tina would have a stroke if she saw my old wardrobe.
"We are here." Tina nodded toward a distant gazebo.
G6's stomach tightened. Nerves? No. Adrenaline dump. Standard.
She took a slow, controlled breath, releasing the tension.
In the gazebo:
Earl, son of the Second Pillar (Nocturne), Earth Magic. Keith, son of the Third Pillar (De Lune), Water Magic. Eliza, the "Blessing of Prosperity" commoner. And the man in the stunning black suit—Prince Dio. Fire. Her fiancé.
The gazebo fell silent as she arrived.
Pink silk gleamed like a warning. Her steps were measured, quiet. Her grey eyes swept the scene—assessment, not awe.
Prince Dio's polite smile stiffened. Since when did Reise walk like that?
G6 stopped at the bottom step, as if hitting a wall.
Eliza looked down, face a mask of polite curiosity laced with condescension.
Three men. All in black. Who's the prince?
Her fingers twitched for a missing gun.
In the book, Dio was "stunning in black with fire in his eyes."
They're all in black! Is this a funeral or a fashion statement? Do nobles spontaneously combust?
Crest pins. Tina said they always wear them. She squinted. How the hell am I supposed to know each family crest?
Fine. The most arrogant one is usually in charge. Gamble.
Her eyes landed on the man beside Eliza. Bingo.
A full minute of silence stretched, thick and awkward.
Then it was over. She lifted her chin and ascended as if nothing happened.
She smiled. It was a cold, sharp thing. "Sorry. I was prioritizing," she said, her tone arrogantly flat.
The two men—Earl and Keith—snickered. Prince Dio remained unmoved, but his eyes tracked her.
Keith and Earl, whispering:
Keith: "Ten gold says she flips the table in three…"
Earl (sipping tea): "Two. She's been pent up."
G6 scanned the seats. She walked past the empty chair beside Prince Dio and took the one opposite him, next to Earl.
Record scratch.
Prince Dio's teacup halted. Keith's water droplet, which he'd been idly floating, plopped into his lap. Eliza looked almost… disappointed.
What are they staring at? Don't drag me into your soap opera.
Oh, desserts. Tina didn't feed me breakfast. Is this a starvation tactic?
She pointed at the cupcake in front of Keith. "You. Hand that over."
Keith blinked. He looked at the cupcake, at G6, at Prince Dio. A slow, familiar smirk spread across his face. He picked it up, dangling it. "Reise, darling. Is that how you greet someone after three years? Forget your place? Or just saving your energy for your real purpose here? Swooning? Fainting?" He glanced at Earl. "The vital work of the strongest pillar."
He's starting. My hand wants a trigger.
G6's eyes locked onto his. No flicker. "My purpose is that cupcake," she stated, voice devoid of heat. "The magic word is 'now.'"
Silence. The taunt died in the air.
Earl snorted, disguising it as a cough. Keith's grin widened. New game.
He placed the cupcake before her. "By all means. Wouldn't want to interfere."
G6 took it and bit in—a huge, ungraceful bite. Pink frosting smudged her cheek.
Earl reached over with a napkin. G6 slapped his hand away, not looking at him. "Keep your hands to yourself. Not everything pretty is meant to be touched." Her tone was a warning. Final.
The silence returned, heavier.
Keith, ever the instigator, leaned in. "By the way, Reise… notice the lady sitting beside your fiancé? Miss Eliza. The one with the lost magic." He gestured like a ringmaster.
G6 finally looked at them. Prince Dio watched her, eyes empty. Eliza offered a strained, fearful smile.
"Yo. I'm Reise," G6 said, wiping frosting from her cheek.
Eliza flinched. "Y-yo…?" she whispered, utterly lost.
Prince Dio's cup lowered slowly. His bored eyes were now sharp, focused.
Keith pounced. "Aren't you going to ask what a commoner is doing here? Or why she's so close to your beloved?" He smirked. "I'd have thought you'd be… jealous."
Inner Tina, from the stairs: He said the J-word. Brace.
All eyes on G6. This was the moment. The old Reise would have shattered.
G6 finished her bite. She wiped her fingers with efficient, clean strokes. She looked at Keith, then Eliza, then Prince Dio.
"Jealous?" she repeated, cool as glass. "Of what, exactly?"
Keith blinked. "Her… proximity to your fiancé?"
G6's gaze swept over Prince Dio—a quick, dismissive assessment. She looked back at Keith as if he were stupid. "If a title and a pretty face were enough to steal him, he'd have been stolen a hundred times. He's a prince. It's his job to have options."
She took a slow sip of tea, holding the cup with an unconscious, innate grace that clashed with her words. "Policing his seat is a waste of energy. If he wants to be stolen…" She shrugged, a minute, elegant movement. "…let him. It just proves his poor taste. Saves me future annoyance."
Atomic silence.
Earl's biscuit slipped and shattered on his plate.
Keith's mouth hung open.
Eliza looked poleaxed.
Prince Dio stared. The sheer, brutal logic of it. The cold pragmatism. It wasn't love or hatred. It was a challenge. An assessment. She'd called him an annoyance and a man of poor taste, and made it sound reasonable.
His lips parted. No sound.
Nailed it. Dominance established. Also, this tea tastes like lawn clippings.
Inner Tina, mentally shredding her resignation letter: …She has a point.
Keith whispered, awed "Earl. My entire purse. She just called the King's son a future annoyance to his face."
Earl was scribbling on a napkin. "Subject demonstrates radical shift in value assessment. Hypothesis: possession by a hyper-logical entity."
G6 ignored them. Her eyes fell on the teapot. A delicate, ugly thing. She picked it up, not by the handle, but by its body, testing its weight.
Inner Tina: No. Don't—
"This is a terrible design," G6 announced to the gazebo. "Center of gravity is wrong. One clumsy servant and it tips. Probably on me." She looked at Tina. "Tell them to get a new one. Lower. Wider base. Function over form. Save the servant their head."
She set it down with a soft clink that echoed.
Prince Dio's voice was rough. "Reise… what has gotten into you?"
G6 met his eyes. Her gaze was empty. Calm. Like the sky before a storm.
"Fuck of—," she said. And reached for a scone.
"Ahem!" Tina cleared her throat.
"I mean, clarity?" G6.
The gazebo was frozen. A painting of shock with a pink-clad enigma at its heart.
Prince Dio couldn't look away. The silence she left was thick, heavy. For the first time in a decade, he was the one watching, waiting for a glance that never came.
He watched her hands—steady as a surgeon's. He watched her assess the pastries, the air itself, with a killer's calm. The old Reise was fire. This was obsidian.
G6 did not grant him a look. She finished her scone, wiped her fingers with surgical precision, and stood.
"The tea was subpar. Boring," she stated. A verdict, not an insult. "Tina. We're leaving."
Without a backward glance, the Wicked Rose turned her back on the Prince.
A stunned servant, frozen by her exit, flinched. The teapot—the "terrible design"—slipped.
It shattered on the gazebo floor.
The sound broke the spell.
In the chaos, G6 didn't startle. She paused, glanced at the mess, then back at Prince Dio.
Her look held no blame. No pity. Just cold, silent validation.
I told you so.
Prince Dio remained, staring at her empty chair. The silence, the scent of spilled tea, and the first spark of obsessive fascination were all she left behind.
From the hedges, a scullery maid turned and fled. The news would spread faster than the china shards were swept:
The Wicked Rose did not scream. She did not cry. She predicted the future and left the Prince in her dust.
—To Be Continued…—