TFCF 12📃

Chapter 12

As she lay dying, Aila saw her life flash before her eyes, slowly, hazily, like a dim lantern passing through mist.

“Kkhhh—ahhh…!”

The flood of memories carried with it not comfort, but a searing shame that boiled all the way up to the crown of her head.

She buried her face in both hands, struggling to calm her ragged breath.

It’s fine. It’s fine. Haa… it hasn’t happened yet.

Fanning herself with her palms, Aila forcibly pushed her thoughts toward the crown prince.

That bastard. Just standing there like a stunned idiot, doing nothing. Letting himself be used by a demon… No—no! My friends were victims! He wasn’t a victim—he knew!

Her chest tightened as the memory returned. That night still felt unreal, as if it hadn’t truly happened at all. And yet, she remembered the faint glow of golden hair in the darkness, and violet eyes that had met hers.

Had I ever even met him before that night?

No. By the time Aila debuted in society, the crown prince had already withdrawn from public life. Rumors said he suffered from some kind of mental affliction.

The truth was, Aila had never cared enough to notice. Her attention had only turned to him once Selena became the Crown Princess Consort.

A knight’s daughter, chosen as consort. An impossible, shocking appointment. And yet, one by one, even her fiercest detractors fell under her spell, becoming loyal followers.

The prince himself? A shadow, hidden beneath her radiance.

Roland A. Robatti.

The empire’s sole legitimate heir, born of the Empress herself. His mother had died giving birth to him—some whispered that he had been cut from her womb, killing her in the process.

From that moment on, the throne’s seat of Empress remained vacant. Without maternal kin to support him, Roland was left alone, though he had no rivals either. He had neither brothers to contest him, nor uncles with a strong enough claim.

So even back then, he was attending the Sage’s Lessons… and appearing at social events. But when did he forge that contract with the demon? Could it already have begun? No—he hadn’t even met Selena yet, right?

If Selena had not yet appeared, then perhaps Roland was still untainted.

But why? Why would an imperial prince ever need to bind himself to a demon? What could he possibly desire so desperately that he’d gamble his soul?

And then—Aila froze.

Wait. Didn’t the demon call him by another name? Al-Sariel… That—could that be his true name?

Only three beings could know a royal’s true name:

• The Sage of the Forest, who bestowed it.

• The bearer themselves.

• Their soul-bonded partner.

Not even one’s parents were permitted to know it. The royal bloodline concealed their true names as a bulwark against curses. They revealed only the initial, hidden within their middle name.

The custom spread among noble houses too, though the Solarlune dukes laughed it off, boasting:

“We need no such safeguards. The spirits themselves shield us.”

So the Crown Prince’s true name is Al-Sariel…? No. No, that’s useless knowledge. Forget it, forget it. Unless I plan to curse him, what good is it?

Still… another thought struck her like ice: Could it be Selena learned his true name—seduced it out of him—and forced the contract upon him?

Aila clenched her fists. She refused to think of Roland. Instead, she dragged her mind toward Selena Camea.

The one both Sada and Luca had fallen hopelessly for. The unrivaled queen of the social seas, casting her net wide and devouring whomever she pleased.

Not a woman. A demon.

She had been no noble heiress, but the daughter of a minor knightly family. Yet when she first appeared at court in shabby hand-me-down dresses, she had captured everyone.

Silver hair like moonlight. Eyes like pink glass, soft and inviting as a rabbit’s.

On her very first night at the ball, proposals flooded in, too many to count.

It hadn’t mattered whether they were men or women. Selena consumed them all.

Just remembering her made Aila’s shoulders curl inward. Rage and fear trembled together in her chest.

I want to ruin her. Gods above, from the bottom of my heart—I want to destroy her. I want to burn her net to ash and set every last one of her fish free.

After long thought, she drew her conclusion.

Selena had not yet entered the stage. Roland had not yet been bound.

Then the answer is simple. Before Selena appears… I’ll become his friend.

If she built a foundation of trust, then when the time came, perhaps—perhaps—Roland might listen when she warned him: Stay away from Selena.

And if that spared even one life, that was more than enough.

For the man who killed me… that’s already more grace than he deserves. His true name? Forget it. Forget everything.

And with that, Aila forced Roland from her mind.

The Fish Decoration

The Bellwood Forest, lying close to the capital, was crown land. Though parts of it were strictly forbidden, the surrounding area had become a playground of opulent noble villas. Springs of sparkling mineral water made it a coveted summer retreat—where chilled streams and luxury hot baths existed side by side.

People fondly called it “The Droplets.” During summer, society itself migrated there, abandoning the imperial palace for forest mansions.

And it was here that the Sage’s Lessons were to be held. Aila would stay at her family’s Solarlune estate nearby.

This is my first time here.

She had rarely left the Moonlit Manor before her coming-of-age. Even their own villa at the Droplets was new to her eyes.

Light woods, airy curtains, wicker furniture, lush greenery—everything was foreign and enchanting.

In the salon, a glass-like bowl of shimmering blue scales caught her gaze.

“It is said to be the shed scales of a water spirit,” Lady Poppy explained with a smile. “A charm to shield this house from flood.”

Indeed, it glowed with a mystical light, unlike any ordinary glass.

Now that summer had waned, the place was quiet, nearly deserted. Aila found the stillness soothing. That night, she fell asleep touching the curved wicker frame of her strange bed, marveling at its craft.

The next morning, Lady Poppy dressed her carefully—not merely as a boy, but in clever disguises: skirt-like trousers, a jacket with delicate embellishments, even a small hairpin glinting at her short locks.

Thus armed, Aila set out for the Bellwood.

All right. Friends, friends!

She breathed deep, straightened her back, and marched into the forest.

Golden sunlight streamed through oaks and beeches, dappling the fallen leaves beneath her feet. A large wooden table waited in the clearing.

Several children had already gathered. But the prince himself was not yet among them. He would surely arrive last, to receive their bows.

Strange… why do their faces seem so familiar?

And then it struck her.

These are the Crown Princess Consort’s closest companions… her “personal guard.”

Her own mocking name for them—the prized fish in Selena’s net. And here they all were, seated before her.

So this is the chosen circle. Perfect. If I befriend them first, then warn them all later… let’s see how you like that, you wretched demon.

Aila stepped forward with a bright smile.

“Good day. I am Aila Solarlune. I look forward to our lessons together.”

A girl rose to greet her—a charming figure with soft beige curls and a gentle smile.

“Welcome, Lady Aila. I am Perotti L. Rangval. I heard you cut your hair due to a fever. Are you recovered now?”

The Rangval estate lay close to Solarlune, and evidently word had traveled. Aila returned the smile.

“Thank you for your concern, Lady Perotti. I am fully recovered, and glad to be here with all of you.”

One by one, the others introduced themselves—

• Phil Oseun, heir to a southern marquis.

• Carlos C. Essek, second son of the central duke, and cousin to the prince.

• Odgerel Khun, son of an eastern count.

Aila swallowed.

Every one of them… from families of immense power.

And finally—

Through the sunlit trees, Roland Robatti emerged.

The Crown Prince had arrived.