In the inner palace of the Kremlin—on the second floor of the main palace complex where the royal family resided—gauzy curtains hung down, half-concealing the sky beyond the windows. A long corridor connected to a staircase at the far end, adorned with portraits of former Tsars. At the highest point hung the image of Ivan IV, the stern and dignified founder of the Tsardom. His portrait faced the golden morning sunlight slanting through the corridor, the crimson rays painting his expression even more imposing.
There were whispers.
"Is he here yet?"
"Not yet—"
"Isn't the Godfather a bit late today... Oh no, do you think he overslept?"
"You think everyone's as lazy as you, Maria? The Godfather must be working tirelessly for the Empire. So young, yet so incredible..."
"Hmph, I didn't oversleep! It was clearly Anna who overslept this morning!"
"I did not!"
...
Such lively chatter echoed across the corridor from the grand hall. The crisp, bird-like voices belonged to girls waiting eagerly. Though their appearances were similar, each face bore distinct features and expressions of anticipation.
They were the three imperial princesses. Excluding the eldest daughter, Olga Nikolaevna, who had already come of age, Tsar Nicholas II's three younger daughters were all gathered here today:
Eighteen-year-old Tatiana Nikolaevna, seventeen-year-old Maria Nikolaevna, and sixteen-year-old Anastasia Nikolaevna.
Maria and Anastasia both had beautiful silver hair inherited from their mother, Empress Alexandra. Maria's shade, however, was a little duller, like silver dusted with ash. Tatiana, the Empire's second princess, had inherited her father's black hair—sleek and smooth like a curtain of twilight.
Tatiana had long envied her sisters' silver locks. In the religion of the Tsardom, silver symbolized purity and sanctity—the color of wind and snow.
Still, compared to their eldest sister, Tatiana considered herself fortunate.
After all...
"I heard that Elder Sister Olga has always regretted not receiving instruction from Lord Lucan. She even wrote to us from St. Petersburg expressing her envy!"
Tatiana said proudly.
"Well, if you ask me, Tatiana, you're already eighteen—you shouldn't need a tutor or Godfather anymore," Maria replied bluntly, giving her sister no face at all.
Tatiana glared.
Anastasia, sitting quietly in the hall with her legs crossed, said nothing. Half a year older now, she had matured into an even more graceful figure. With her face bowed, half-hidden beneath cascading silver hair, her beauty resembled a snow fairy—delicate and sorrowful.
She sighed.
Tatiana and Maria heard it and paused their bickering, turning toward her.
"Anna, what's wrong?" Maria asked curiously. "Aren't you happy Godfather is coming?"
"Could it be... you've grown tired of him?" Tatiana added, puzzled.
"I'm just a little frustrated," Anastasia lifted her face. Beneath the white gown, her graceful form shifted slightly. "Why do I have to receive instruction with you two? I've already been by his side for two years."
Tatiana and Maria: "..."
Was this a humblebrag? This was definitely a humblebrag!
Should've ignored her!
The two princesses glared while the youngest royal smiled with a sly, teasing glint.
Of course she was proud!
But truly, she also felt conflicted.
Just then, footsteps echoed from the hall outside.
Godfather had arrived!
Tatiana and Maria immediately composed themselves and took their seats. Anastasia adjusted her long sleeves modestly, but her pale blue eyes sparkled with mischief—as if already plotting her next prank.
...
Lucan crossed the steps and hallway, casting a brief glance at the portraits of the former Tsars on the wall. In his thick black priest's robes, he seemed to meld with the shadows of the emperors, his gaze lingering momentarily on Ivan IV's stern expression.
The so-called "Thunder Tsar"—the first to officially crown himself Emperor in Russian history—looked as fearsome as expected.
But this wasn't Lucan's first time stepping into this secluded inner sanctum of the Kremlin.
Half a year ago, after leaving the library and assuming his post as the Empire's First Minister, Alexandra had personally invited him to become the private tutor—spiritual and intellectual—of her still-underage daughters.
Back then, only Olga had come of age.
Tatiana was still six months short.
Thinking of the trio of lively princesses, Lucan's lips curved involuntarily. Spending his days with lovely girls was far more enjoyable than facing the lifeless old faces of the council ministers.
He stepped into the grand chamber. Sunlight from the windows filled the space with golden clarity. Crystal chandeliers bloomed like flowers from the vaulted ceiling. Gold-trimmed walls supported ornate columns, while the extinguished fireplace bore ancient carvings. Long tables lined the walls, red carpet covered the floor, and the princesses rose with trailing gowns to greet him.
Their cheerful voices rang out once more.
Lucan couldn't help but feel like he'd walked into a kindergarten.
He coughed lightly.
"Please be seated, Your Highnesses," he said, waving a hand.
[You begin your lesson as usual.]
[But the truth is, these nearly-of-age imperial princesses don't need instruction. Alexandra simply wanted to build rapport with you—and you, in turn, are happy to solidify your current position.]
[You act modest and composed. You ignore the multiple flirtatious attempts made during class.]
[You tell yourself your heart is as solid as diamond...]
[Yeah, right.]
[You're only keeping the bloodline pure, preserving the integrity of the mystical system.]
[In a way, you're 'waiting for the right price.']
[A man seen as a saint inside and out has an easier time achieving his goals.]
[That's how you see it. Your purpose has always been clear.]
[At the end of the lesson, you politely decline their invitation and take your leave.]
"Lord Lucan is still as saintly as ever..." Maria murmured as she watched his figure vanish into the hallway. She thought of how many times she had subtly invited him to her private chamber for 'tutoring'—all ignored.
She sighed. No wonder all those noble girls outside the palace fail, one after another...
"Shameless," Tatiana grumbled.
"I'm just freely pursuing love!" Maria huffed, flicking her silver hair. "Besides, your hints weren't any subtler."
"I genuinely want to study," Tatiana replied with a straight face.
"Sure, I believe you. Heh." Maria's smirk was full of sarcasm.
Tatiana was about to snap back when she suddenly paused.
"Wait... where's Anna?"
Maria blinked.
"I think... she followed him?"
The two sisters exchanged glances—and gasped.
Who knew what would happen with just the two of them alone?
Wait!
"Could it be that His Holiness's restraint is all for Anna?" Maria asked, jealousy creeping into her voice.
Tatiana found herself a bit envious too.
They both grit their teeth.
"Unforgivable," they muttered in unison.