The shrill ringing of a silver bell tore through Rosearia’s sleep.
She groaned, rolled violently across the grand bed, seized a silk pillow, and crushed it over her face.
The bell continued.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
Rosearia slowly lowered the pillow.
Someone was about to die.
Then she remembered the fragile, harmless girl she was pretending to be.
Unfortunately, murder would ruin the performance.
With a murderous sigh, she sat up.
Her jade-green hair spilled wildly over her shoulders, and her dark-red eyes locked onto the trembling maid standing beside the chamber doors.
"Good morning, my Lady," the maid squeaked, quickly curtsying beneath Rosearia’s sharp, unblinking gaze. "You are needed in the main parlor. Your tailors have arrived, but first, we must prepare you for the day. My name is Melody."
Rosearia stared at the girl. She was deeply annoyed at having her rare, peaceful sleep shattered, but throwing a tantrum didn’t fit the fragile, sweet persona she was projecting to the fortress.
Softening her expression instantly, Rosearia offered a gentle, tired smile that made her look like an innocent painting. "Such a lovely name," she murmured softly.
Melody’s cheeks flushed a bright pink. "T-Thank you, my Lady! If I may... let us begin. The Lords deeply dislike being kept waiting."
"Alright."
Rosearia swung her legs out of bed and allowed Melody to guide her into the luxurious adjacent bathhouse. The warm, rose-scented water swallowed her body, soothing her aching core as Melody carefully lathered and washed her long, vibrant locks.
"You have such exquisite hair, my Lady," Melody gushed softly, her hands working gently through the tresses. "It is exceptionally rare to see someone with green hair. So unique... so magical."
Rosearia kept her eyes closed, leaning her head back against the marble edge. Her mind was racing far ahead of the bathwater. Tonight, she was stepping straight into the royal castle with Crown Prince Adrian. But she couldn’t just sit idly in the fortress until dark. She needed to take control of her own investigation.
Suddenly, a name surfaced in her mind.
Vesper.
Rosearia frowned.
Why did that name suddenly come to mind?
Then her eyes widened.
Oh.
The witch with the All-Knowing Sense.
For some reason, something about Vesper felt strangely familiar, like someone she had known closely in her past life.
If she knew me then, she may know what happened to me.
"That’s it", Rosearia realized, her pulse quickening beneath her calm facade. "If I am going to unlock the rest of my forgotten past, I have to start by seeking out the people who hold the realm’s secrets."
After a short while, Melody helped her dry off and get dressed. Rosearia stood in front of the full-length mirror, inspecting her reflection. She wore a simple, elegant day dress, leaving her long jade hair to flow freely down her back — just the way she preferred it.
"My Lady," Melody called gently, gesturing toward the double doors. "Let us head downstairs."
When Rosearia stepped down the grand staircase, her breath caught in her throat.
The vast sitting room had been completely transformed. Racks upon racks of ethereal silk, shimmering velvet, gold-embroidered corsets, and jewel-encrusted gowns filled the room — stretching so far it looked as though the tailors had cleared out the entire royal market of the empire.
Standing near the displays was Anthony, the fortress butler, overseeing a dozen trembling apprentice tailors led by a sharp-dressed master tailor wearing a gold-rimmed monocle over one eye.
Sitting on the plush couches were Aldric and Adrian.
Aldric looked up first. The moment his golden dragon eyes locked onto her, a slow, appreciative smirk spread across his lips. "You look utterly ravishing, Rose," he drawled, his smoky voice carrying across the quiet room.
Adrian rose from his seat, looking strikingly relaxed, a rare, handsome warmth touching his features. He stepped toward her, his icy-blue eyes tracing every inch of her face.
"Do you like what you see?" Adrian asked softly.
Rosearia glanced around the room, letting out a breathless, quiet laugh. "I do... but it feels as though you purchased the entire empire’s wardrobe just for me."
Adrian chuckled — a low, deep sound that vibrated in his chest. "This is merely the tip of the iceberg of what I can give you, Rose."
Rosearia lowered her head, giving a modest, graceful bow. "I am deeply flattered, Your Highness."
For the next hour, Rosearia engaged in the delicate theater of picking her evening gown. She deliberately rejected the overly flashy, ostentatious dresses — the ones covered in loud gold plating that looked like the Princess of Suncrest’s style — and instead selected a breathtaking, midnight-black gown embroidered with silver frost-roses that hugged her waist and flowed down like starlight.
Once the tailors bowed out, Rosearia clasped her hands nervously in front of her dress.
"Adrian... Aldric," she began, making her voice sound hesitant. "I would like to step out into the lower market for a little while before the ball. I need a few personal items."
Adrian’s warm expression vanished instantly, his eyebrows knitting together in a protective, possessive scowl. "No. The capital is crawling with imperial scouts preparing for the banquet. It isn’t safe for you."
"I won’t be alone," Rosearia pleaded gently, turning her wide, innocent eyes toward the maid. "Melody will accompany me."
Aldric laughed. "You’re worried about her safety?"
Adrian glared at him.
"Adrian, that maid could kill three imperial guards before finishing her tea."
Melody smiled sweetly. "Four, Your Grace."
Aldric’s grin widened. "See?"
Adrian looked between Rosearia’s hopeful expression and the bowing maid. He released a heavy sigh, giving a single nod. "Two hours. If you are not back by then, I will hunt you down."
Under the guise of shopping for cosmetics, Rosearia expertly led Melody straight into the shadow alleyways of the black market, stopping right before the ruined, soot-stained doorway of the subterranean apothecary.
Telling Melody to guard the entrance, Rosearia slipped inside the quiet, herb-scented shop.
Behind the counter sat Vesper, blowing a plume of violet smoke into the air. The High Witch didn’t look surprised to see her; in fact, her dark eyes gleamed with razor-sharp delight.
"Well, well," Vesper drawled, leaning over her counter. "The Cursed Rose herself. Slipping away from your possessive leash so soon?"
Rosearia dropped her sweet, helpless victim act instantly. Her posture straightened, her eyes turning cold, calculating, and lethal.
"Long time no see, Vesper." She stepped closer. "You have the All-Knowing Sense. So don’t waste my time. Tell me about my bloodline. Who sealed my memories of my past life — and why?"
Vesper chuckled, clearly amused by the terrifying shift in Rosearia’s demeanor. "Ah." Her lips curled into a wicked smile. "So the cursed rose has thorns after all. Now I like you more."
"They didn’t seal your memories simply to hide your power, Rosearia," Vesper continued, her gaze darkening. "They sealed you because they intended to use you."
"Blood magic", Rosearia thought grimly, her fists clenching at her sides.
Vesper’s eyes suddenly softened as she studied Rosearia’s face. The sarcastic, guarded edge in the High Witch’s voice melted away, replaced by an unmistakable warmth and a faint flicker of recognition. She stepped out from behind the counter, her long silks trailing behind her as she approached Rosearia, stopping just inches away.
"You really don’t remember me, do you?" Vesper murmured softly.
Rosearia frowned, her defensive stance holding firm. "Should I?"
Vesper raised a hand, her thumb gently brushing against the silver pendant hanging at Rosearia’s collarbone. "In our past life, before you were executed and before the empire bound your soul, we weren’t just ordinary strangers or allies, Rosearia. You were my closest confidante. My sister in all but blood. We fought the Heavenly Court’s corruption side by side."
A strange, phantom warmth bloomed in Rosearia’s chest at those words. A fleeting image flashed through her mind — a candlelit sanctuary, two women laughing over a shared spellbook, and a blood-oath bound by shared rebellion.
"We were allies," Rosearia whispered, her eyes widening slightly as the memory fragment snapped into place.
"We were more than allies — "We were more than allies," Vesper corrected, a fierce smile touching her lips. "We were partners."
Rosearia’s gaze sharpened.
Vesper stepped closer.
Her eyes gleamed.
"You had my back once, Rosearia."
A pause.
"Now, I have yours."
Rosearia’s lips curved into a sharp, dark smirk. "I wouldn’t have it any other way. Tell me what I need to watch for tonight."
Vesper’s expression suddenly became unreadable.
"Rosearia... have you ever heard of the Devourer?"
The smile vanished from Rosearia’s face.
"The Devourer?"
Vesper nodded slowly. "It is older than the Celestial Realm. Older than the gods who claim to rule it." She lowered her voice. "Something has been moving beneath the Empire for centuries. Feeding on magic. Feeding on souls. Feeding on the remnants of ancient bloodlines."
Rosearia’s eyes narrowed. "And you think it’s controlling the Empire?"
"I think the Empire is being prepared for something."
"For what?"
Vesper stared directly into her eyes.
"A feast."
A cold silence settled between them.
Rosearia’s fingers tightened. "What does that have to do with me?"
Vesper’s gaze fell to the hidden mark beneath her collar. "That..." She whispered. "...is what I’ve been trying to find out." Her expression hardened. "Because the last time the Devourer awakened, an entire kingdom disappeared."
A pause.
"And the only person who survived was you."
Night swallowed the imperial capital, leaving only the palace lights burning against the darkness.
Outside the towering, golden gates of the Royal Palace, hundreds of grand carriages lined the cobblestone streets, filled with high-ranking nobles, foreign diplomats, and powerful coven leaders arriving for the grand imperial banquet.
The palace grand hall was blindingly radiant — lit by thousands of floating crystal chandeliers, filled with music, flowing wine, and arrogant chatter.
At the center of the high dais sat the Imperial Family, alongside the Princess of the Suncrest Empire, who wore a towering gold crown and an arrogant, expectant smirk, waiting for her betrothed to arrive.
Suddenly, the grand double doors of the ballroom were slammed open by the imperial guards.
The brass trumpets blared, and the herald’s voice boomed across the silent, breathless room:
"Announcing His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Adrian of the Imperial Realm... accompanied by his personal guest!"
A collective gasp echoed across the grand hall.
Adrian stepped into the light, dressed in a sweeping black-and-gold imperial mantle, his icy-blue eyes radiating absolute, crushing authority. But he wasn’t walking alone.
Firmly wrapped around his arm was Rosearia.
She wore the sweeping midnight-black gown silvered with frost-roses, her jade hair cascading like silk over her bare shoulders, looking so ethereal and dangerously breathtaking that every noble in the room froze in shock. Beside them walked Duke Aldric, his golden eyes scanning the stunned crowd with a victorious, predatory smirk.
From the high dais, Princess Hazel’s wine glass shattered in her hand, her face turning pale with pure fury.
Hazel stared at Rosearia. Then at Adrian’s hand wrapped possessively around her arm. Her nails dug into her palm.
He had brought her here deliberately to humiliate her in front of the whole court.
Beneath her long lashes, Rosearia looked up and then saw someone she never expected to see.
Jacinta.
"I’m back", she thought, her lips curving into a soft, innocent smile that masked the cold, murderous vengeance burning in her chest. "Let the game begin."