After some hours, the main ball began. High and medium-ranked seniors glided proudly onto the dance floor, each leading their partners with grace and elegance. The music swelled, chandeliers glittered above, and laughter mixed with the rhythm of the violins.
Arya stood apart from it all, leaning quietly on the balcony railing, her heart restless.
"Will Ryu ever come back?" she sighed, worry tugging at her chest.
During those long hours he was gone, Arya had wandered aimlessly through the massive palace halls to pass the time. At one point, she nearly got lost in the maze of golden corridors. If not for the faint sound of music guiding her back to the ballroom, she might have drifted too far.
"Arya, will you dance with me?"
The voice behind her startled her. She turned.
"Elijah?! What are you doing here? Where's your partner?" she asked quickly, trying not to sound too eager, her eyes darting around the hall.
He chuckled, stepping closer. "Woah, one question at a time. I know you missed me." His hand tilted her chin upward with his finger, and Arya felt her cheeks flush crimson.
"As for my partner… Lucy? I have no idea where she ran off to." He stuffed his hands into his pockets casually.
Arya's lips curved into the faintest smile. "Then… sure. We can dance."
But just before their hands touched, Arya froze. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a girl with dirty-blonde hair striding toward them, a glass of punch in her hands.
"Eli… who's this?" Lucy asked, her brows knotted, her tone sharp.
Elijah blinked. "Lucy, you're back?" His voice carried a trace of disappointment.
"You're not answering me." Her stare cut into him.
"Right." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Lucy, meet my former bestie—Arya. Arya, this is my fiancée, Lucy."
The word hit her like a stone to the chest.
Fiancée?
Arya's head throbbed. Elijah… getting married? But worse than that—he had called her his former bestie.
"I'm sorry, Arya. We'll have that dance… another time." He forced a small smile, taking the glass from Lucy's hands as she pulled him away.
"Yeah… maybe," Arya whispered, but her voice cracked.
She couldn't take it. She was in love with Elijah.
Her legs carried her upstairs almost without thought. On the upper balcony, she sank into a shadowed corner, hugging her knees tightly against her chest.
Her heart replayed memories—days long past when Elijah had been her only friend. He had defended her when others mocked her, shared food when she went hungry, shielded her from cruelty. He had been her safe place. And though she hadn't understood the word love as a child, she had known she felt something strong for him. Even when he was adopted and disappeared from her world, she had never been angry—only hopeful. She believed one day, he would come back. And now that he had, he was promised to someone else.
Next time… I'll make myself clear, she thought bitterly.
Her stomach growled, dragging her back to reality. Ryu had vanished far too long. She decided not to wait anymore.
Quietly, she descended to the banquet table. Varieties of appetizers gleamed under the golden lights, but she hardly noticed. Three maids passed by, each carrying one of the triplets, fast asleep in their arms. Distracted, Arya absentmindedly grabbed the first pastry her hand touched—a soft, steaming pineapple bun.
Without thinking, she carried it back upstairs, retreating once more into the shadows of the balcony.
---
Meanwhile, in another chamber separate from the ballroom, Ryu sat stiffly beside his father. The crown prince was half-listening to discussions of politics, border disputes, and military conquest. It was the kind of talk he expected—but also the kind he loathed.
His gaze shifted to his friends across the table. Both Daven and Xavier looked even more bored than he was. Their glazed expressions nearly made him laugh, and a smirk tugged at his lips. Well, serves them right. I dragged them here on purpose.
Daven's father was the king's chief regent and adviser. Xavier's father, a war general, had married a foreign princess. The three older men had been inseparable since youth, so naturally, their sons were bound together as well.
A butler entered with a bow. "Your Majesty, esteemed generals… if I may." He placed a tray of steaming buns on the table. A line of maids followed, setting down plates of other desserts. After bowing again, they departed.
"It's about time," Xavier muttered, immediately stacking buns onto his plate. "I was starving."
The aroma filled the room, and even Ryu couldn't resist.
"Yum. Pineapple flavored," Xavier announced with his mouth full.
"We've got taste buds too, idiot. No need to tell us," Daven muttered.
Xavier rolled his eyes, cheeks puffed with food, unable to reply properly.
Ryu chuckled at their antics, then bit into a bun himself. The flavor was sweet, warm, and almost intoxicating. But then—his eyes flew open.
Pineapple.
His heart dropped. Arya!
He shot to his feet so suddenly the table shook. "Father, generals, forgive me—I must excuse myself." He didn't wait for permission. He bolted from the room, his cloak snapping behind him.
"Lucky brat," Xavier mumbled, chewing. "Wish I could escape too."
"I wonder what's so urgent," Daven muttered under his breath.
Ryu stormed into the ballroom, his thoughts spiraling.
How could I forget? He raked a hand through his white hair, frustration clawing at him. What crazy thing is she doing now?
Elijah's warning echoed in his mind. "Whenever she eats pineapple, she… well, she has the urge to do things. Crazy things. I almost got kissed once… not that I minded."
The music was deafening, the laughter suffocating. His patience thinned as he searched the crowded hall, his chest tight.
"Where are you, Arya?" he muttered, weaving through the crowd.
Finally, he pushed through the doors and stepped onto the balcony, desperate for air.
And then—his eyes froze.
There, half-hidden in the shadows, Arya stood with her back against the wall… her lips dangerously close to someone else's.