I slipped out of bed and pulled on a velvet robe, its soft fabric brushing against my skin as I stepped into the dimly lit hallway. Night had already fallen, casting long shadows that danced beneath the flickering torchlights. The silence of the palace should have been calming… but my mind was anything but still.
I needed to get out — to breathe, to distract myself from the strange memory that had taken over my dream, from Ciel's touch still lingering on my skin.
I wandered aimlessly through the corridors until something caught my eye — movement. Not the usual quiet of nighttime guards, but staff rushing around with an urgency that didn't match the late hour.
Everywhere I turned, servants were bustling about. Crimson velvet drapes were being hung across tall columns, gold and ivory candleholders lined the walls, and long silk banners bearing the royal sigil swayed as they were lifted into place. The faint scent of fresh roses and citrus polish hung in the air.
The palace was being transformed.
What's going on?
I turned a corner and spotted Jason at the base of the staircase, speaking to a servant who was struggling with a gilded mirror frame twice her size.
"Jason," I called, approaching him. "What is happening? Why are they decorating everything?"
He turned toward me with a polite bow, his usual smirk toned down to something more formal.
"Your Majesty," he said, "preparations are underway for the Welcome Banquet. It's being held tomorrow."
I blinked, confused. "Tomorrow? But I thought it was going to be held later in the month."
Jason nodded once, hands behind his back. "That was the plan. But His Majesty ordered it to be moved forward."
"Why?"
A slight pause.
Jason gave a neutral smile. "He didn't say, Your Majesty. Only that it was important to celebrate… sooner rather than later."
Sooner rather than later?
I didn't like that.
The air suddenly felt colder, or maybe it was just my nerves acting up again. Something about the timing felt off — too rushed, too sudden. And the way everyone moved, like they were trying to cover something up with silks and flowers, didn't help.
"Do you know who will be attending?" I asked.
Jason hesitated. "Nobles, of course. And a few foreign guests who arrived this morning."
Foreign guests?
"I wasn't told."
Jason offered a careful smile. "His Majesty said he would speak with you himself."
Of course he did.
I gave a short nod and turned away, leaving Jason behind as I moved further down the decorated hallway. My bare feet were silent against the polished floors, but my thoughts were loud.
Why was Ciel hiding something again? Why did this banquet feel less like a celebration and more like a performance?
And why did I feel like I was the one being watched?
"Do you know where Ciel is?" I asked.
"He's in his study, Your Majesty," Jason replied.
"Where exactly?"
"Don't worry," he said with a slight bow. "I'll take you there."
I followed him quietly through the winding corridors of the castle. The halls glimmered with faint candlelight and shimmered drapery, but my heart was restless.
We stopped at a tall black door with silver carvings of roses and thorns along the frame. Jason knocked twice.
"It's me, Your Majesty," he said.
"Come in," Ciel's voice answered, deep and steady from inside.
Jason opened the door, stepping aside for me to enter.
It was the first time I'd ever been inside his study.
The air was warm, scented faintly with old parchment and sandalwood. The walls were lined with obsidian-black bookshelves filled with ancient texts and glowing silver tomes. A crystal chandelier shaped like a crown hung from the high ceiling, casting soft shadows on the polished black marble floors. Dark velvet curtains framed tall windows, and behind his ornate silver-trimmed desk stood Ciel — striking, calm, and utterly unreadable.
"Her Majesty is here," Jason said before stepping out and closing the door behind us with a soft click.
Ciel looked up, and when his eyes met mine, he immediately stood.
"Clara," he said, crossing the room toward me. "Is something wrong, my love?"
I hesitated for a moment before speaking, my voice steady but quiet.
"I just wanted to ask… why did you move the banquet forward?"
He paused, then slowly reached out and brushed his fingers against mine.
"Well, my love," he began, voice as smooth as velvet, "after what happened at the Blue Moon Festival… I decided it would be dangerous to delay."
His tone darkened slightly, but his hand stayed gentle. "The longer we waited, the more opportunities our enemies would have to strike again — or worse… try to take you away from me."
A chill ran through me.
"So you're doing this… to keep me safe?"
"Yes." His silver eyes shimmered with something I couldn't quite place — fear? Possessiveness? Guilt?
"I know it seems sudden," he added, "but I had to take control of the situation before anyone else did."
Anyone else. His words echoed in my mind. I looked up at him, searching his expression for more — something unspoken.
"Clara," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, "you are the reason I breathe. I won't let anyone touch you. Not again."
My throat tightened. Part of me wanted to believe him, to fall into his arms and trust his warmth. But another part — the part that kept remembering fragmented dreams, strange flashes of the past — couldn't help but wonder...
What exactly is he protecting me from?
I took a breath and gave him a soft smile.
"Okay… I understand."
He looked relieved. But I wasn't done.
"Can I stay here for a bit?" I asked. "I'm a little tired."
His silver eyes widened slightly in surprise, then softened into a warm smile.
"Of course, why not?" he said gently. "You can sit on the couch."
He walked over and guided me there with his hand on the small of my back. I sat down slowly, keeping my expression calm and sweet.
"If you need anything, tell me, my love. Once I finish this last part of my work, I'll take you back to our room myself," he said, bending down to kiss my forehead before returning to his desk.
I watched him for a moment, then slowly laid down on the velvet-lined couch.
But the truth was… I wasn't tired at all.
I just needed to stay. To observe.
To memorize every corner of this room — from the arrangement of the books, to the locked drawers in his desk, to the little trinkets scattered across the silver shelves.
There has to be something in here.
This study felt important. Private. A place that might hold secrets he hadn't told me — about the world, the castle, or maybe even… me.
I shut my eyes, not to sleep, but to think.
When I come back here again, I'll know where to start looking.
I kept my eyes shut for a while, pretending to nap. But every now and then, I opened them just slightly — just enough to scan the room.
One glance at a time, I slowly began to memorize everything: the layout of the shelves, the cabinet in the corner, the drawers behind his desk, the folders carefully organized by color and label.
Then I saw it.
Ciel stood from his desk, stretching slightly, and dropped a final stack of documents into the large black cabinet. He closed it firmly... then pulled out a small set of golden keys from his inner robe. With a click, he locked the cabinet, and calmly tucked the keys back into his robe pocket.
Aha. I thought, hiding my smile.
Finally, something useful.
I quickly shut my eyes again as I heard his footsteps approach.
"Clara?" his voice was soft, right by me.
"Mmm?" I responded, pretending to wake.
"Let's go," he said gently, and reached for my hand.
"Okay," I murmured, standing up slowly. He held my hand firmly and walked me toward the door.
"Did you have a nice nap?" he asked as he locked the study door with the same set of keys.
"Yes," I answered, keeping my expression soft.
But inside, I was buzzing with excitement.
I had found something. A place where he kept secrets — and now, I just needed those keys.
"I know the banquet might feel sudden," Ciel said as we walked through the quiet halls, his voice warm. "But don't worry, it will only last a few hours. And… who knows, it might help bring back more of your memories."
He smiled at me, and I smiled back sweetly.
"Okay," I said, nodding in agreement — while my mind was still spinning around one thing.
The key.
We entered the bedroom and I quickly slipped under the covers, trying to avoid his gaze.
"I'm going to sleep now," I said, forcing a yawn as I turned to face the wall.
"Alright, my love," he said softly, and I felt his lips brush my forehead in a goodnight kiss.
I remained still, silently plotting ways to get that key from his robe.
But then—
"Ouch," I heard him mutter.
I turned my head to see him rubbing the back of his head, frowning.
"What's under this pillow?" he asked, reaching down.
Panic shot through me.
No. No. No.
That book.
I'd completely forgotten.
The one Lila had given me.
"Wait, no!" I yelped, but it was too late — his hand was already under the pillow.
He pulled it out slowly, brow raised, as he held it just out of my reach.
"What's this," he said with a smirk, "that's got my wife so worked up?"
He turned it over, curious.
I held my breath.
And then — he saw it.
Boldly written across the front:
THE ARTS OF SEDUCTION
My soul left my body.
I lunged for the book, but he held it higher, one hand blocking me easily while his other gripped the spine.
I could see his face now — unreadable, still, eyes flickering from the cover to me.
I wanted the ground to open and swallow me whole.
He looked at me slowly.
And smirked.