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HARPER SERENITY AGE 17. SERENA'S OLDER BROTHER. DURING HIS TIME AT DALINCOUR.

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TEN YEARS AGO
The crisp air of Dalincour carried the scent of autumn leaves and ambition — heavy, restless, and sweetly suffocating. The academy grounds stretched before us, golden light spilling across ivy-wrapped buildings that had stood for centuries. Their shadows felt older than us — older than anything we could ever hope to change.
I walked beside Harper Serenity, his laughter echoing against the cobblestone path. He was always a step ahead — light, careless, almost radiant. The kind of person who seemed untouched by the weight of inheritance or duty.
"Oh, Eiser!" he greeted, his voice brimming with energy as he clapped my shoulder. "I saw today's paper! The Grayan family bought the Selters Bank, didn't they?"
The words struck like a pebble in still water — small, yet rippling through every fragile layer of calm I had built.
The Grayan family.
My family.
"It seems so," I replied evenly, though the knot in my chest tightened. The sunlight might have warmed the air, but it could never thaw the cold truth of our futures.
Harper grinned. "That's incredible! Your family never misses, huh? I heard the Selters deal was in motion for years. Must feel great to finally get it."
I looked at him — his golden hair catching the light, his expression open and unguarded — and I wondered how he managed to carry his name without letting it crush him.
"Wasn't that something your family has been working on for years?" I asked quietly.
He nodded, his smile unfaltering. "Yeah, we were interested once. But I guess your family outplayed us. The Grayans always win, right?"
His tone was teasing, not bitter. That was Harper — even in defeat, he found warmth.
But victory meant nothing when it was handed down by bloodlines rather than earned by desire.
"After all," I murmured, "it's inevitable for construction companies and banks to be closely linked. My father and brother handle those matters. I… hardly take part."
Harper blinked, surprised, then laughed softly. "Oh, really? You're just like me, then."
That startled me — not the similarity, but how lightly he spoke of it, as though rejecting power was the most natural thing in the world.
"Why aren't you interested?" I asked, more curious than I intended.
He looked away, watching the fading sunlight on the horizon. "When news like that breaks, everyone assumes we cheated our way to the top. They don't see the people behind the name. Just the corruption, the rumors."
His smile faltered, briefly revealing something fragile beneath. Then, as if catching himself, he straightened and beamed again. "I just want to travel, Eiser. To run my own little agency. To go somewhere no Serenity or Grayan has ever gone. The world's too wide for just inheritance and ledgers, don't you think?"
I looked at him, really looked — the glint of wonder in his eyes, the ease in his laughter — and for a fleeting moment, I believed we could both escape the fates we were born into.
"You were a good friend, Harper," I said quietly. "A genuine one."
He tilted his head. "Was?"
I smiled faintly. "Are," I corrected. But even then, part of me knew our friendship existed on borrowed time.
So I confessed something that wasn't meant to change anything — but in hindsight, it changed everything.
"My little sister… she's the real heir. She's the one driving the acquisitions, not me."
He looked surprised. "Really? I didn't know you had a sister like that."
I chuckled faintly. "Most people don't. She's quiet. Observant. Much more suited for the Grayan legacy than I ever will be."
He smiled knowingly. "Then I'll have to meet her someday."
I didn't know that someday would rewrite our fates.
---
PRESENT
The memory dissolved into the present like ink bleeding into water — soft at first, then staining everything.
The Grayan estate's grand hall stood silent, vast enough for echoes to feel like ghosts. The chandeliers above hung like frozen stars, dimmed by the absence of warmth. Every corner of the room whispered with dust and loss.
Ten years.
Ten years since that afternoon at Dalincour. Since laughter was easy. Since I believed promises could survive family empires.
Now, I stood where power was the only language, and sincerity was a liability. The marble beneath my feet felt colder than the grave of my youth.
My voice broke the silence. "I'm sorry, Harper…"
The words barely escaped my throat — a confession meant for a friend long lost to distance, duty, and deathly politics.
"I don't think I can keep my promise."
The promise to remain human. To be different from them. To stay true to myself — and perhaps to the friendship we once had.
The acquisition of Selters Bank had been more than a business move. It had been a declaration of war — the first domino in a series of betrayals, each one pushing us further from the people we once were.
I clenched my fists. The boy who once looked for warmth in friendship was gone, stripped away by necessity.
Now, only the heir remained — the cold, ruthless Grayan scion expected to conquer, not care.
My voice was low, resolute, a blade drawn from old sorrow.
"…But I can't be as nice to your sister as I was to you."
The air seemed to shift, heavy with unspoken truths. Somewhere in that darkness, I could almost see Harper's grin, that easy charm that once disarmed the walls around me.
But he wasn't here anymore.
And his sister — the last living piece of him — stood on the opposite side of this chessboard, bearing his name, his defiance, and perhaps, his vengeance.
The friend who once saw the boy in me was gone.
And in his place stood Eiser Grayan, the heir — the villain in a story written by bloodlines, where kindness was weakness, and every promise carried a price.
---
The memory of the past continued to unfold — a bright scene painted over a canvas of current regret.
The sunlight of that day filtered through the academy's tall windows, soft and golden, wrapping Harper and me in the glow of youth and possibility. The laughter of students echoed faintly in the distance, but between us, there was something quieter — the fragile honesty of two boys who hadn't yet learned how to lie with their smiles.
When everyone else was making assumptions about me, you were one of the few people who treated me normally.
You never spoke to "Eiser Grayan," heir to an empire. You spoke to me. You never acted like the Grayan name was a weapon or a burden, just a fact.
I appreciated that — more than you knew.
Harper grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Of course, I want to do well in school and be a brother she can be proud of. I want to be someone she can rely on whenever she's in trouble."
There was a fondness in his tone when he spoke her name — Serena. It softened him in ways I rarely saw.
Then his expression twisted with mock frustration. "But I'm always in second place, thanks to someone!"
He shot me a playful glare, and I laughed — rare, genuine.
He was right. I'd always been at the top of the class, but Harper never resented it. His envy was light-hearted, without venom. That was who he was — someone who could live in another's shadow and still see the light.
"She can't wait to start at Dalincour," he continued, "because she thinks I'm having such fun here. She's already declared she'll be top of her class." He shook his head, smiling. "She has no idea how hard that is…"
For a fleeting second, I imagined her — the sister he spoke of so fondly. Determined. Bright-eyed. Someone who wanted to follow her brother's path but carve her own name into it.
Then the tone shifted — subtly, but enough for me to feel the chill return.
Harper's smile faded. "But Eiser… you can't totally exclude yourself from your family's business, can you?"
I hesitated, my gaze wandering toward the horizon beyond the academy gates — where the world of our parents waited like a storm.
"Don't you have to manage some of it, even with your brother around?" he pressed. "The Grayan family empire is… enormous."
My answer was measured, but my heart already knew the truth.
"...Probably."
Harper's shoes scraped against the stone path as he turned to face me, his expression unexpectedly serious. The late sun caught in his hair, and for a moment, he looked older — as though he already foresaw that our fates would diverge.
"Since we were lucky enough to become friends here," he said, lifting his notebook slightly before lowering it again, "promise me something."
I raised an eyebrow, half amused. "A promise?"
"Promise you'll be a good business partner." His grin widened as he took a bold step forward, arm outstretched. "When my little sister becomes the head of Serenity!"
There was laughter in his tone, but conviction in his eyes.
He held out his hand — open, unguarded, unknowing. "Try to be a loyal and friendly one, alright? Hehe."
That was the first and last thing you ever asked of me, Harper.
I remember how I looked at that hand — how the sun caught the lines of his palm, how trust radiated from something so simple.
Back then, I was hesitant to take your hand.
Not because I doubted you. But because I already knew — the moment we crossed into adulthood, our names would become walls instead of bridges.
The Grayan and Serenity empires were bound to clash. Our fathers would smile in public and sharpen knives in private. Our siblings would inherit rival thrones.
And Serena — your beloved sister — would one day look at me with the same eyes you once did, but not with friendship. With fury.
Even then, some part of me knew. I could feel the fracture waiting, invisible but inevitable.
Yet still, I took your hand.
Warm. Steady. Trusting.
It was a promise I had no right to make.
---
The Present
Now, ten years later, I look down at the empty space where that hand once was.
No warmth. No laughter. Only the echo of a promise turned to ash.
The empire you dreamed of escaping devoured you first, Harper. And I… I became everything you swore I wouldn't be.
I can still hear your voice — that easy laughter, that unshakable faith in good intentions — as if the past were mocking me through memory.
But time is cruel. The boy who made that promise is gone.
And in his place stands a man who can no longer afford sincerity.
The weight of the Grayan name presses down on me like a chain of iron. There's no space for hesitation anymore, no room for friendship in a world ruled by profit and power.
So I whisper into the dark — the confession you'll never hear:
"I'm sorry, Harper. I broke our promise. Not out of choice… but survival."
My gaze lifts to the door — the one I know she'll walk through soon.
Serena Serenity.
The sister you cherished.
The woman who inherited your fire.
The one who now stands on the opposite side of every war.
I exhale slowly. My words fall cold and final, like a verdict passed upon my own soul.
"…But I can't be as kind to your sister as I was to you."
The sweet memory of Harper's friendship evaporated, leaving behind only the bitter tang of the present — metallic, suffocating, and cold.
The air in the room was heavy with silence, the kind that swallows every heartbeat. Dust floated like dying stars in the dim light seeping through the half-drawn curtains. Somewhere, beyond the heavy walls, the city still pulsed with life — but in here, time was a noose tightening around both our throats.
I had told Harper, years ago, that my family would turn their backs on his sister whenever they wished to.
It was the Grayan way — loyalty when convenient, cruelty when necessary.
But I had believed — foolishly, naively — that I had kept our promise in my own way.
Ever since I took over Serenity, I had shielded her company from the wolves. I had guided, controlled, and protected — under the illusion of partnership. I thought it counted for something.
Up until now.
Now, I stood over her — the woman I was supposed to be a loyal and friendly partner to — with a gun in my hand.
The barrel gleamed faintly under the pale light, trembling ever so slightly between guilt and duty.
Serena Serenity.
The last living fragment of the boy who once called me his best friend.
The scene was steeped in a dark, terrifying intimacy — one that felt almost sacrilegious. The world had narrowed to the two of us: predator and prey, heir and heiress, promise and betrayal.
> I hope you're not too disappointed, Harper, I thought, my voice echoing soundlessly in the hollow of my mind.
This is all for... for what?
Power?
Survival?
Or a desperate attempt to prove I hadn't failed you completely?
Serena lay on the bed, her back against the headboard, posture rigid despite the exhaustion clouding her features.
Her emerald necklace caught the faint glint of light — the only thing defiant enough to shimmer in this suffocating darkness.
She had tried to stay awake. I could see the effort in her eyes, in the tremor of her hand clutching the sheet. She had been waiting — for the blow, for the judgment, for me.
Her lips moved, faintly trembling. I can't believe I even crawled into bed. Why did he have to see me like this?
Her thoughts were written clearly across her expression — a mixture of shame and rage, framed by the cruel reality of her position.
I looked down at her, at the fierce little princess who refused to bow.
Even cornered, even threatened, she held her dignity like a blade.
"You're the one who gave me an impossible amount to get through in a short space of time to begin with," she said finally, her voice rough with fatigue, yet laced with venom. "Do you think I'm some kind of magician? We're not in a fairy tale, Mr. Grayan."
The mockery in her tone was brittle, but it was there — the last line of defense from a woman stripped of everything else.
I didn't flinch. My tone was cold, mechanical — the voice of a man who'd forgotten how to be human.
"Then you shouldn't have been sleeping. It's your attitude that's the problem."
The pistol didn't waver. But my pulse did.
Because she reminded me — painfully — of Harper.
The same eyes, that same fire when cornered.
The Serenity fire that burned even when everything else fell to ash.
Serena's composure cracked. She let out a ragged, frustrated sigh — the sound of a woman reaching her breaking point.
"I can't stand this anymore!"
Her words tore through the air, raw and trembling.
Then she looked at me — directly, piercingly — her pupils sharp and glistening with fury.
"If you're going to kill me, then kill me now!" she shouted, voice rising, trembling but unbroken. "Stop pretending like you're giving me a chance!"
Her hands loosened their grip on the sheets and she lifted her chin, exposing her throat to the inevitable.
Her defiance was reckless. Terrifying. Beautiful.
The steel pressed against her temple, cold and absolute.
And still, she didn't flinch.
In that silence — the one between her heartbeat and mine — the world fell away.
It was just us, and the echo of a promise I'd made ten years ago.
A promise I'd already broken the moment I aimed the gun at her.
> Be a loyal and friendly partner, alright?
Promise me that, Eiser.
Harper's voice whispered in the back of my mind, cruelly gentle.
My finger hovered over the trigger.
My breath came slow, uneven.
This was what the Grayan heir had become.
Not a protector. Not a partner.
Just another man too far gone to remember the warmth of his own humanity.
The silence stretched — long enough to taste the regret bleeding into it.
And though the gun never fired, something inside me already had.
The words left her mouth like broken glass, each one cutting the distance between us a little shorter.
For a long moment I said nothing. The pistol hung loose at my side, still heavy, still aimed somewhere near her, but the heat had gone out of my hands.
Her face was pale from exhaustion, eyes wide and fever-bright, but the defiance there was unmistakable.
Serena Serenity, even cornered, refused to bow.
I should have laughed. Instead, the sound that came out was closer to a sigh. "You always did talk like your brother," I murmured, half to myself.
Her hand was still outstretched, trembling, daring me.
Between us hung a new promise, darker than the one I'd broken ten years ago.
"You think I want to betray you?" I asked quietly. "You think that's all this is?"
The question wasn't for her, not really. It was for the ghost standing between us — Harper's ghost, still waiting for an answer that would never come.
She didn't flinch. "If it isn't, then prove it."
The gun felt suddenly absurd, like an instrument from another life. I lowered it just enough for her to see, but not enough to call it surrender. "Careful what you wish for," I said. "Once you ask me to play your game, there's no pretending either of us is innocent."
A brittle silence followed. Her breathing steadied; mine didn't. The storm outside the tall windows cracked faintly, and for a second the flash of lightning drew the line of her jaw, the glint of her necklace, the stubborn pride that refused to die.
Two legacies stared at each other across a gulf of ruined promises — the Serenity fire and the Grayan ice.
And somewhere in that fragile stillness, the rules of the next war were written, wordless but certain.

The cold glint of the revolver still lingered in my eyes, even after he lowered it. The weight of it had branded itself into my skin, into my mind. I could still feel the ghost of its steel pressed against my temple — a memory that wouldn't fade, no matter how far he stepped back.
When I threw my challenge at him, his expression faltered — just a flicker, but enough for me to breathe. For once, Eiser Grayan looked uncertain. It was fleeting, like a storm cloud catching sunlight before swallowing it again, but I saw it. I knew I had struck something inside him.
His silence filled the room after that — heavier than the gun, heavier than the air. He turned toward the window, the dawn spilling across his figure like light refusing to touch him. His shadow stretched long and sharp, like the truth he always hid behind.
When he spoke, his voice wasn't raised. It didn't need to be.
> "We'll work towards our goals… and when we reach them,"
his eyes met mine again — blue, cold, and eternal,
"we'll point a gun at each other."
It wasn't a truce. It was a curse. A promise soaked in blood and inevitability.
Then came the sound — the CLUNK, CLUNK — each bullet falling from the revolver to the rug like tiny fragments of a doomed future. They glimmered faintly near my feet, a mockery of mercy. He had disarmed the gun, but not the threat.
When he placed it into my hand, the steel still held his warmth. My fingers trembled, but I didn't look away.
> "If you fail to do your part…"
he leaned in close — so close I could see the pulse at his throat, steady and unflinching.
"…and turn around later than I do, then you'll be the one to die. Do you understand?"
I understood all too well. It wasn't a warning — it was an order dressed as an oath. A chain disguised as choice.
I stared at the gun, my reflection fractured in the polished surface. "If you're the first to turn around and shoot me…" I said, my voice steady though my insides burned, "…I'll readily die for you."
His gaze didn't soften, not even for a moment. He simply stepped back — one, two measured strides — retreating into his self-made abyss.
He thought he had won. And maybe, in some cruel way, he had. But I wasn't done.
I wouldn't let him walk away with all the control, not this time.
My body screamed in protest as I pushed off the bed. The pain was sharp, but the desperation sharper. The gun — his gun — was cold in my hand as I reached for him. My fingers caught his sleeve, clutching it with everything I had left.
He froze. Slowly, his head turned, his expression unreadable.
My voice came out quieter than I intended, but every word was laced with demand.
> "Let me ask you one thing…"
His name was a bitter taste on my tongue.
> "What was the deal you made with Grandma… four years ago?"
The air between us stilled.
His eyes flickered — not with anger this time, but something far more dangerous. Something he was trying not to show.
And for the first time since he pressed that gun to my head…
I felt the faintest hint of fear — not mine, but his.
The echo of his footsteps still lingered in the hall long after he was gone, each one hammering the reality into me — that Eiser Grayan had walked away again, dragging my unanswered question into the shadows with him.
"What was the deal you made with Grandma, four years ago?"
The silence that followed had been worse than the threat of his gun. Because silence from him wasn't ignorance — it was deliberate. Calculated. It was a way of saying: You don't deserve to know yet.
Now, sitting on the edge of the bed, the morning light felt almost mocking. The faint CHIRP CHIRP of the birds outside cut through the stillness, sharp and bright — too alive for the aftermath of what had happened.
My fingers brushed against the pillow where the revolver lay hidden — cold, heavy, empty. The weight of it still felt like a secret between us, like a contract neither of us had signed but were already bound by.
The knock startled me.
> KNOCK KNOCK.
"Lady Serena, it's Sui."
Her voice was soft, warm — painfully normal.
"Come in," I said, pulling the covers over my lap and forcing my expression into something resembling calm.
Sui entered with her usual grace, her smile gentle. "Oh, it's early… but you're already awake."
If only she knew. If only she could see the bruised thoughts still crawling under my skin.
I gave a weak stretch, pretending to yawn. "Eiser said he's going to the hotel early today. And… I'm going with him."
"Certainly, Lady Serena." Her tone was bright, dutiful. "I came early to help you get ready. Why don't we have a bath first?"
"Alright," I murmured. "Ugh… I'm sleepy."
I wasn't. My body was exhausted, but my mind hadn't stopped spinning since he walked out that door. Every word from last night replayed like a curse. We'll point a gun at each other.
Sui moved quietly, preparing the bath. When she turned back, her eyes fell to my ankle — the bandages peeking from beneath the nightgown. "You should wear comfortable shoes today since you're going out," she said gently.
Her words were simple, caring even. But after last night, nothing sounded innocent anymore. Every phrase felt like a message I wasn't meant to understand yet.
Eiser's voice echoed in my head — calm, possessive, unyielding.
> "I know your ankle still hurts."
Of course he knew. He knew everything. Every pain, every hesitation, every crack in my defenses — and he used them all.
I forced a smile for Sui's sake. "I'm fine. It's bearable now."
She nodded, unaware of the storm beneath my tone.
As the door closed behind her, I let my hand drift back under the pillow, wrapping around the revolver once more. Cold. Silent. Waiting.
Somewhere behind all his manipulations and careful cruelty, there was something he wasn't saying — something about that deal with his grandmother.
And until I uncovered it, I wasn't going to let him win.
Not by control.
Not by fear.
Not even by love.
Steam curled gently above the bathwater, the scent of lavender drifting through the air as I tried to steady my thoughts. My aide's voice broke through the calm surface of my silence.
> "By the way, Lady Serena," she began carefully, wringing a towel between her hands, "about the hotel anniversary event… There's not much time left. Are you sure you're going to be okay?"
Her words reminded me of the stack of schedules, proposals, and contracts waiting on my desk. The same desk Eiser had buried me under last night before… everything.
I dipped the sponge into the warm water, scrubbing at my arm with a determination that bordered on defiance. "Well, it won't be easy since it's my first time…" My voice softened briefly, then hardened again. "But I think I can do it. No—I'll succeed no matter what."
My aide smiled, clearly heartened by my tone. "Oh, my! I'm excited to see you so eager to start working. I'll do my best to assist you."
Her faith in me was almost disarming. For a moment, I let it wash over me like the bathwater—briefly soothing, deceptively warm. "Sure," I said, returning a small smile. But my expression faltered. "Still… I don't understand why he suddenly wants me to handle so much. He never really discusses these things. He just… tells me."
The words came out sharper than I meant. I could hear the quiet ache beneath them.
My aide's tone softened. "Well, maybe he wants you to take on a more important role for the hotel. So you both can make decisions together… as the co-owners."
Co-owners.
The phrase lingered. I let out a small laugh—half amusement, half disbelief. "Maybe."
But deep down, I knew better. It wasn't about partnership. It was about control dressed as trust.
Later, when I emerged from the bathroom, the sunlight was already spilling through the heavy curtains. My hair was still damp, and the scent of rosewater clung faintly to my skin. Sui—ever efficient—helped with the finishing touches to my outfit.
When I caught my reflection in the mirror, I saw a faint curve at the corner of my lips. A smile. Small, almost imperceptible, but real. It's bearable now, I thought quietly.
From outside the door came a low murmur.
> "Did she just… smile?"
It was fedrick's voice—steady, composed, but carrying a hint of disbelief.
> "She's in a surprisingly good mood this morning. I heard a gunshot at the annex last night… and she was extremely irritable when she got back."
His words sent a chill down my spine. So he had known. He always knew.
Before I could respond, he stepped inside. His presence filled the room immediately—sharp, controlled, magnetic. I didn't turn to face him, but I could feel his gaze trace over me.
Then, quietly, he moved closer. The distance between us shrank until his breath brushed against the back of my neck. His hand found my shoulder, and he pulled me just slightly toward him.
The moment hung suspended, wordless. Then—
KISS.
The warmth of his lips pressed against the skin just below my shoulder. Not tender, not cruel—just claiming.
I didn't resist. I simply let out a small breath and whispered, "Okay."
A fragile peace, temporary and uncertain, lingered between us.
When he finally stepped back, preparing to leave, I gathered the strength to offer him something like normalcy.
"Have a nice trip," he said softly.
He paused at the door. The morning light caught in his eyes—calm, unreadable, almost human. Then he nodded once and was gone, leaving the faint ghost of that touch behind, and me standing in the quiet aftermath… pretending that my heart wasn't trembling beneath my calm.
The engine's hum was a steady, indifferent heartbeat beneath my thoughts. Outside, the city blurred into a smear of gray and gold; inside, the car felt like a small, moving capsule of the world Eiser wanted me to accept — polished, arranged, inevitable. I curled my gloved fingers around the seam of my skirt and let my face settle into the cool mask I'd practiced for months.
He sat across from me like a statue carved from winter: composed, flawless, watching. Every so often his gaze drifted to my profile, measuring me as if cataloguing the ways I might disappoint him next. I met that look with a deliberate calm. If he wanted to parse me, let him. I had a ledger of my own to balance.
"You told me to wait for a chance to betray you," I said, voice low enough for only him to hear. The sentence was a stone I had been polishing for a long time, and now I finally threw it with aim.
He didn't answer immediately; he simply watched me, pupils dark and unreadable. The silence filled the car like fog. Then, when he did speak, his words were casual, almost amused. "Do what you must," he said. "Just don't get in the way of what I've planned." There was a threat wrapped around the courtesy of it, but it was the shortest sentence I'd heard from him that felt like a promise and not a threat.
A dangerous little smile tugged at my lips. "I plan to," I replied. "But you should know — I'm not going to play the martyr for you. If this comes down to blood, I'll choose the timing." My words were not bravado; they were a map. He could stab at me later and say I'd provoked him, but I would be ready to answer, to expose whatever rot made him so thirsty for control.
Under the cap, my mind raced through the edges of the plan I'd been building in secret. Raul's sparse notes. The ledger entries that didn't match the invoices. A stray name that kept cropping up near payments: Grayan Holdings — Operational Trust. Grandma's initials tucked into a coded clause in a contract I'd once skimmed and dismissed. Four years ago. Four years that had changed the axis of my life. If I could follow the money, the signatures, the whispers, I might find the bargain he'd refused to name.
Eiser's hand rested on the seat between us, close enough that if I wanted to, I could curl my fingers into his and feel the chill. I did not. Instead I adjusted the glove at my wrist, the small deliberate motion disguising the tremor at my pulse. The car slowed as we neared the hotel — its façade rising like a stage set, banners announcing the anniversary fluttering in the wind. Staff in neat uniforms moved like chess pieces, oblivious to the queens and kings who would pass them by.
He watched me as we stepped out, the glare of the sun catching his jawline. For a breath I saw something like calculation soften into something else — maybe curiosity, maybe a small, reluctant respect. Or perhaps it was simply the way men like him looked at anyone who dared to keep a secret.
"Remember," he murmured as we entered the hotel's grand lobby, "we point the gun at each other when the time comes." The sentence hovered between us like a promise and a threat, and then he was already moving: poised, precise, the architect of the day's performance.
I walked after him, but my mind was already three steps ahead: the program I'd need to intercept, the person I'd have to corner between speeches, the document I would need to produce in front of the whole room to make the deal's roots show like a raw bruise. The anniversary would be a celebration on the surface — but I intended to make it a reckoning.
Outside, the banners flapped like outward smiles. Inside, the ballroom waited like a mouth ready to open.
VROOM....
I don't know where the destiny ends up with ...

chapter 13 end
Story Art Ina
Tip's
YOU CAN START ATTENDING DALINCOUR ROYAL ACADEMY ANY TIME BETWEEN THE AGES OF 15 AND 18. EISER, HARPER, AND LOVIS MET EACH OTHER WHEN THEY ENTERED AT THE AGE OF 17, AND SERENA ENTERED AS SOON AS SHE TURNED 15. IF ONE WAS TO ENTER AT THE AGE OF 18, THEY WOULD GRADUATE AFTER THEY CAME OF AGE (AT 19), SO THE ACADEMY LET PEOPLE ENTER AT 18 ONLY UNDER SPECIAL CIRCUMSTANCES.