Everest had a dream.
He dreamt of a castle—England, and he was a prince. In that dream he had just woken from a nightmare. The morning was blinding, painting his world in a million shades of gold.
His gaze finally pierced the veil of light, revealing a tastefully decorated room drowned in rich colors. Beside him—right by his bed—stood an unnecessarily large wardrobe of polished oak, and ahead of him sat an equally exquisite desk to match.
To his right stretched a wall of shelves, books arranged almost obsessively by color. A tall standing mirror waited before the shelves, catching the golden morning like a portal made of glass.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed—nearly tripping on the mountain of books scattered across the marble floor. Grimacing, he paused, tied his hair into a bun, then made his way toward the mirror.
When he reached it, he was greeted by a beautiful young man with flawless alabaster skin and deep, hypnotic golden eyes. An easygoing smile curved on that reflection's lips, though the eyes peered too sharply, too knowingly. The silky black robe he wore revealed nothing powerful—just slender limbs and a gentle figure.
He fell into thought before muttering to himself:
"Well… it is that day after all."
A genuine smile crept onto his face. Humming softly, he strolled to the wardrobe and pulled out his favourite outfit—yet another silky black robe from the countless hanging neatly inside. Then, with the casual majesty of someone used to elegance, he exited the room.
---
He dreamt again.
This time he was in a different part of the castle—the ballroom. Everything was gold: relics, furniture, chandeliers. The walls and floors were a bold crimson, like living velvet. The place was crowded with nobles dressed similarly in red, all buzzing with anticipation.
Then it came: the thunderous boom of colossal gates swinging open, followed by an avalanche of cheers.
"Princess Lisselotte Alexander Terissa III has arrived from her studies abroad!"
"Glory!"
"Glory!"
"Glory to the empire!"
"Glory to His Majesty!"
"Glory to the palace!"
"The princess has returned!"
Something tugged the hem of his robe.
Who dares—
He stopped himself as he looked down and recognized one of his foster sisters: tall, athletic, generous figure, with jet black hair and piercing sapphire eyes. She wore the standard crimson gown of imperial ladies.
Dorothy Alexander Terissa.
"Yooo, Everest—uhhh, so when are you doing it?" she whispered.
His brows dropped.
"Doing what?"
"Walking up the stairs, taking her hand—you know, all the lovey-dovey drama stuff."
He chuckled.
"You watch too much dramas."
She puffed her cheeks dramatically.
"Maybe you don't watch enough of them."
He shot her a smug smile. "Fine then. Besides, I'm sure it'll give her a pleasant surprise."
As he cut through the crowd—many of whom gave him heated stares for being the only one not in red—he reached a long staircase with a plush red carpet. At the top, a massive golden gate waited shut. As he climbed, the gates opened slowly, flooding the hall with blinding light and framing his silhouette.
Another silhouette emerged.
A lady's silhouette.
She descended gracefully in an elegant straight-laced gown, her curvaceous figure outlined by the light. Step by step, she moved like a descending angel while he ascended to meet her.
When they reached each other, the illusion only strengthened.
Golden hair cascading like liquid gold.
Sapphire eyes sparkling like cut gems.
A smile so breathtaking it felt sculpted.
He returned the smile and extended his hand.
"Welcome back, Lady Lisselotte."
She took his hand, lips parting.
"Thanks for having me."
---
He dreamt once more.
They had danced. They had eaten with the family and guests. The festivities had ended, and the night belonged only to them.
The balcony outside his room glowed beneath a sky littered with stars. The air was cool, soft against their skin. They sat side by side on a luxurious bench, leaning on one another in comfortable silence.
They were both in simpler clothes now—though Everest hardly changed. Another silky black robe for him; a soft red evening gown for her.
Out of courtesy, he said, "I missed you."
She leaned in and whispered, warm breath on his ear, "Me too."
He flinched, turning to scold her—only to find her face inches from his. Every immaculate detail was suddenly intimate: her gem-bright eyes, flushed cheeks, even the tremble of her lips.
He yelped and scooted away, but she simply followed him, closing the distance. He attempted to stand—but she wrapped him in a tight embrace, pulling him right into her chest. His strength evaporated under the sheer sensory overwhelm.
Oh heavens… is this how I die? I don't want to die…
She finally released him after nearly a minute.
He pushed back his loose hair, scowled, and snapped, "W-What's with you today!?"
She only stared at him... then burst into a melodic, sweet laugh. She laughed until she could barely breathe.
He joined her.
Their laughter carried years of buried emotions: sometimes joyful, sometimes lonely, sometimes scared. Mostly scared—scared of what was coming, even though neither knew exactly what that "coming" was.
It was a moment that felt like a lifetime.
Eventually the laughter died. Their stomachs hurt, their eyes watered, and their faces were suspended in unreadable expressions.
They turned to each other slowly, and at the same time said:
"I am going to Stellar High."