Ron stood there smiling, as if he had known Karina would come.
She waved at him from afar, and he answered with a warm smile that melted what remained of the ice between them.
Karina felt a strange warmth in her chest and tears gathering in her eyes.
Two full years had passed since she last saw him,
yet he looked different today—more mature, calmer—but his eyes still held that same familiar gleam.
Grandmother Osana noticed her granddaughter's gaze and the small hands waving with joy.
She leaned close and whispered gently in her ear,
"If you wish to speak with him, go on, my dear. We'll wait here… don't take too long."
The moment Karina heard those words, she ran toward Ron lightly, like a sparrow in flight.
She laughed with excitement, her golden hair fluttering behind her with every step.
When she reached him, she shook his hand eagerly, her face glowing with a wide smile.
Ron spoke as he returned her smile.
"How have you been, Rina? It's been such a long time."
"I'm fine!" she replied, still holding his hands. "I came with my grandmother and my cousin for a little walk."
Ron looked toward where Osana stood smiling from afar, then turned back to Karina with a gentle tone.
"Then you shouldn't keep them waiting, right?"
Karina nodded lightly. "I'll tell you later when we can meet again… but for now, I have to go."
Ron smiled and nodded in agreement, then bid her farewell with a calm, warm voice.
---
Afterward, Karina walked through the streets watching children play and laugh.
She smiled at them, thinking of the vast difference between their simple, free lives
and the lives of noble children trapped behind tall walls like prisoners.
She arrived with Osana and Sina at the large orphanage where the poor lived.
The place was simple yet clean, filled with the sound of children's laughter echoing through its halls.
Osana spoke kindly with the orphanage director and offered a generous donation to improve their conditions,
bringing tears of gratitude to the woman's eyes.
Then Karina and Sina began distributing the pastries they had baked.
The scent of warm dough filled the air, drawing the children toward them in delight.
"Thank you! We missed having sweets!" one of them said cheerfully.
Karina laughed as she handed him another piece,
but deep inside, she knew some of those pastries hid a dangerous secret.
Sina had made her own batch, mixing in a drug to harm people—
planning to blame Elena afterward so she would seem cruel and heartless.
It only took minutes before some people began to feel dizzy and cough.
A man pressed his hand to his head. "I feel lightheaded… what is this?"
Whispers spread, fear filled their faces.
Osana panicked, shouting for help immediately,
and ordered a doctor to be brought, paying his fee from her own purse.
The doctor arrived quickly and examined everyone carefully.
After a short while, he announced, "No need to worry. It isn't poisoning… perhaps just a mild reaction."
Osana sighed in relief, while Karina looked toward Sina and saw fear in her cousin's eyes.
Sina was shocked, not understanding how her plan had failed.
She didn't know that Karina had changed something in the pastries beforehand.
---
Everyone returned to the mansion in heavy silence.
In the hall, Osana looked at Sina and asked calmly but firmly,
"Who baked the pastries, Sina?"
Sina stammered, trembling.
"My mother… she made them… but she's innocent, Grandmother, please forgive her."
Osana approached her gently, patting her head. "Don't be afraid… we won't do anything."
Then she turned to Karina, walked toward her slowly, lifted her chin softly,
and whispered a single word that carried a hidden meaning.
"Devious…"
Karina froze. "Huh? What did you say?"
Osana chuckled lightly without answering, then left the hall heading to Theobald's office.
---
That evening, Theobald summoned Elena to his study.
She entered nervously, barely able to speak.
He stood by the window, his voice deep and angry.
"What did you put in my mother's dish that day? Tell me the truth and don't waste my time."
Elena's voice trembled. "I did nothing, my lord. Perhaps a maid… or someone—"
He interrupted sternly, "Don't cast suspicion on our servants. They've been with us for twenty years."
She stepped back, frightened. "Then why does your daughter doubt me?"
He turned toward her, anger blazing in his eyes.
"Are you saying my daughter lies?"
"N-no, I didn't mean that!" she stammered.
"Enough!" His voice thundered through the room.
"You'll stay in your quarters for a month. If I hear you mention my daughter again,
I'll take it as a personal insult. My daughter is part of me—I understand her as I understand myself."
Elena dared not reply. She bowed in fear and left the room escorted by guards.
---
A few days later, a royal invitation arrived for the fourteenth birthday celebration of the second prince.
The ball was grand and magnificent, and relations between the Ferchy family and the Imperial family were excellent.
In the vast hall, the emperor spoke with Theobald about matters of state,
while Karina sat beside Osana among the noble ladies discussing fashion and marriages.
Bored, Karina leaned toward her grandmother and whispered,
"I'll go for a short walk."
Osana nodded, and Karina quietly left the hall.
She walked through the long corridors until she reached a wide balcony overlooking the palace gardens.
Only then did she realize she wasn't in the main Imperial Palace,
but in the private palace of the second prince himself.
She lifted her gaze and saw, across the courtyard, the Empress's Palace—closed and utterly dark.
Its windows were veiled with heavy curtains, and the air around it was still,
as if time itself had forgotten the place.
It looked like a stone phantom from the past, a nightmare that still breathed behind its walls.
The second prince's palace was a strange blend of old and new,
as though time had hesitated between two centuries.
From the outside it looked grim, its tall walls dusted with the gray of forgotten wars,
but the interior told another story—light streamed through high windows onto polished marble,
and portraits of calm-faced people hung on the walls, their eyes not truly meeting anyone's gaze.
Karina walked through the halls with hesitant steps, tracing the carvings on the pillars,
breathing in the scent of history. She whispered to herself as she examined the ornate designs,
"Isn't this the Empress's style?"
She had heard much about that distinct taste—
a blend of Eastern simplicity and European elegance—and here it was before her eyes.
The inner garden was strangely silent. No birdsong, no flowing water,
only a cool breeze stirring the leaves as if whispering the secrets of the place.
Even the servants passing by moved quietly, as if afraid to disturb the lingering spirit of the Empress.
When Karina asked one of them about the back garden,
the woman replied in a hushed, reverent voice,
"It's called the Empress's Garden."
She spoke the name as though invoking something sacred.
Karina descended into the back garden and found herself before a breathtaking sight.
The flowers were not mere plants but living paintings of color—
violets swaying with white roses, jasmine climbing the stone walls with grace.
Everything was arranged with extraordinary care,
as if an artist's hand still tended it long after her departure.
Karina bent slightly, touching a violet petal with her fingertip and smiling softly.
"How beautiful you are," she whispered, as though speaking to their spirits.
She hesitated to pick any of them, sensing this place was no ordinary garden.
These flowers seemed to belong to a memory—
to a woman who had once embodied beauty and strength.
Turning to a nearby maid, she asked timidly,
"May I take some of these flowers?"
The maid smiled respectfully. "Of course, Your Grace."
But Karina didn't reach out. She feared the flowers would wither once removed,
as though the Empress's spirit still guarded them here.
Suddenly, the silence broke—slow footsteps echoed from the stone corridor behind her.
Each step carried a steady rhythm, confident and strangely familiar.
She froze, her heartbeat pounding in her chest.
Before she could turn, a deep voice pierced the quiet,
a sound that felt like melancholy music.
"Who told you not to take the flowers?"
The air itself seemed to still. She turned slowly.
He stood there—half in light, half in shadow.
His gray eyes observed her calmly,
and his blond hair gleamed beneath the evening light.
He smiled faintly and spoke in a quiet tone,
as though delivering a celestial decree.
"I give you permission… even if you take them all."
That single line was enough to unsettle her heart.
Something in the air shifted,
and Karina knew that this meeting, in the Empress's Garden,
would not be an ordinary one.