But Eli's eyes weren't on the mirror. They weren't on the palace maids fussing beyond the inner doors. Her gaze was turned downward… towards the small object in her hands.
She was holding a fox-shaped plushie, with a tilted crown on its head. The only link she had to the real world outside this simulation. Now it showed no sign of signal. Even the error messages it displayed earlier were gone, as if erased.
She held on to Arlo tighter resting it on her knees, her fingers were brushing along the amber-inlaid ears. The anger that burned in her only days ago toward the company had shifted now into desperate hope and despair.
"This stupid sim..… is it stuck or something?" she muttered. "Why aren't they contacting me? Are they even trying?"
She hadn't even noticed what her hands were doing until the soft tear of fabric made het flinch. She'd almost ripped off Arlo's ear's seam.
"God…" she breathed, staring at the tiny frayed seam. "I didn't mean to…"
"There has to be someone out there. A human rights activist, a technician or anyone who cares, right?" her voice trembled, as she talked to herself. "They can't just leave someone trapped like this!"
A thought which dreaded her, caught in her throat. What if they can't fix it?
"Shit…" she whispered, her breath hitching. "Am I going to be stuck here forever?"
She press her lips together until they hurt, then let out a shaky sigh. In the mirror, she saw a beautiful blonde girl with slumped shoulders. Even though she got used to that face, her face was still a stranger draped in silks, staring back at her with her own weary eyes.
Wow, it's been a full week trapped in this place without any update from the team. No override keys. No interface controls. And that damn error message is gone too, as if it never existed.
Her fingers twitched against Arlo's fur. She almost wanted to tear at the stitching again, just to see if the game would even let her. But instead, she squeeze it tighter, breathing out loud in frustration.
"What kind of customer service is this? Dreamsync was supposed to be a trustable company. This never happened. Or maybe it did, and they just never let it slip out in public."
She bit the inside of her cheek as the sting grounded her.
I can't even skip the time anymore. Every little unscripted royal bath and ceremonial routine, I'm forced to live it as though it matters. Like they're real.
She raked a hand through her sleeves, tugging it harder than she mean to. Her reflection in the darkened mirror looked pale, restless, like some doll dressed up prettily. She can't break sequence. She can't exit. She can't even fast-forward. Her eyes narrowed as she look down at the fox in her hands. It's false eyes caught the lantern glow as if mocking her.
"Tsk, Arlo… why are you doing this to me?" she whisper in a cracking voice. A long, hollow sigh escapes her again trembling on its way out. She blink rapidly, but the sting behind her eyes only deepened, sharp and unrelenting. A tear gathered on her eye, trembling on the verge of slipping free.
"I miss my home," she whispered. "The modern food, the tech. Even my stupid desk and takeout noodles." she said while swallowing hard, clutching Arlo closer, she pressed her forehead briefly against his crown. Her lips trembled as she forced the words out. "I'd be thankful if I could just… leave this code. Yup — right now I can only wait and be hopeful. Once I get out, I'm suing this company. Hold on until that time, Sera."
And then, a gentle knock came.
"Princess? It's time."
***
By now, the festival had found its rhythm; not chaotic, but collective. What moments ago had been scattered joy in every alley and square now seemed to flow toward one place. The main street, wide and lantern-lit, stretched from the palace gates to the river's ceremonial steps. The crowd knew it and they moved like leaves caught in the tide. They gathered, shoulder to shoulder like a wall of murmuring excitement in their shimmering festival garb.
Drayce stood amidst the gathered crowd. Hidden beneath a disguise, his false merchant's brooch catching just enough attention to pass as ordinary. The emperor of Vortalis said nothing. He blended like smoke into the press of bodies, as just another face in the joy filled occasion. He had entered enemy territory for a reason, to see the face behind the name he'd heard once days ago. A name that shouldn't have meant anything. And yet, here he was. A dragon, hiding in plain sight.
His golden gaze drifted over the balcony railings, the distant palace gates, the nobles corralled behind velvet ropes. He watched the guards align along the cobbled road, their armor polished, their stances proud. All of it passed before his golden eyes without interest.
Suddenly a blare of silver horns split the evening air. Their call rang sharp and high, cutting through the hum of conversations. The crowd hushed in a single, collective breath before erupting into cheers. The parade had begun.
From the palace gates, the first carriages emerged. Dark cedar gleamed beneath lanternlight, it's wheels trimmed with bronze and banners of moon-white and blue crowning their frames.
The royal couple came out first. The King and Queen, seated high in their open carriage, waved their hands with both practice and warmth. Their robes shimmered with threads of gold and azure, their crowns catching the lamplight as though the stars themselves bowed to them. Petals showered their path. Children shouted their names. From balconies, handfuls of colored dust burst into the air, painting the night in clouds of green.
Behind them came the carriage of Crown Prince Callisto. Tall, golden, his jaw proud, his smile as polished as his father's. Regal, unwavering, he carried himself like the future of the kingdom had already arrived. Beside him sat lady Mirabel, his betrothed. She looked every bit the part they had scripted for her: radiant, ethereal, veiled in jewels that shimmered like frost in moonlight. Together, they looked less like people and more like the living emblem of Elarion's pride.
The crowd roared for them. Cheers rolled down the main street like thunder, voices rising above the flutes and drums.
And still Drayce didn't care. His golden eyes passed over the royals as if they were actors on a stage he had seen a thousand times before. He barely looked interested, his face carried boredom. Until he heard the name he had been waiting for.
"Princess Elinessa of Elarion!"
The herald's voice rang like a silver bell over the crowd, and at once, the city seemed to come alive. Cheering swelled like a tide cresting the parade. Petals rained from balconies in cascades of crimson and ivory. Children shouted her name as though it were a prayer. Even the guards seemed to stand taller, shoulders squared with pride.
The darling of the kingdom.....
Drayce's posture shifted. His golden eyes snapped toward the sound, and for the first time that night, something sparked behind them. He straightened without realizing it, his shoulders turning slow and deliberate, as though pulled by a force older than curiosity.
His gaze found the next carriage. Softer in design, but no less radiant. Its sides were carved with floral sigils which looked like silk-made pale rose and blue moon, that meant to reflect the gentleness of the woman inside.
From the crowd, someone shouted, "Long live the princess!"
But just before he saw her, a memory surfaced within him which he encountered in passing. He recalled a voice, from weeks ago. It was of one of his soldiers, murmuring, half-dreaming near a fire under the shadow of the Vortalis tents.
"Her face's unspoiled… untouched by war or weather. Beautiful like the kind you see once in a life. I swear, commander… if she ever looked at me, I'd sell myself just to be near her."
Drayce had smirked at that time, dismissing it as poetic nonsense. Thinking it as frivolous words meant to charm the gullible.
But now, he stood there frozen, his world narrowing to a single point before him. Without realizing it, his breath caught as he waited for the moment that had haunted his every waking thought.
And then, she appeared. Princess Elinessa, she sat there with a quiet certainty that seemed to command the world without effort. She didn't wave like the others, nor did she smile too widely. Even in stillness, her posture was flawless, every line of her body poised with effortless grace. Yet it was more than her elegance that seized him; it was something impossible to define, impossible to measure that stole his breath, an intoxicating force, something Drayce couldn't fully understand.
Through his eyes, he drank in her skin, pale as the finest porcelain yet kissed with a subtle, living warmth, untouched by both sun and sorrow; the kind of complexion poets wrote about but claimed existed only in dreams. A delicate, almost imperceptible blush highlighted the curve of her cheeks, lending her a fragile, yet undeniable vitality. Her eyes were like pools of untouched emerald, deep and luminous, drawing him in with a dreamlike, hypnotic intensity.