In the grand palace of the Crystal Empire, a figure of unmistakable noble bearing moved through the corridors, his simple commoner’s garb contrasting sharply with his presence. Ronald Crystal, the Emperor himself, adjusted the cloak over his shoulders as his footsteps echoed faintly against the marble floor. A soft draft stirred the banners hanging along the hall, the faint scent of polished wood and wax filling the air.

  “Jerry. Wilson.”

  The maid hurried forward, her eyes widening as she caught sight of the Emperor’s attire. She froze mid-step, a shiver running through her.

  “Y-Your Majesty… I—I beg your forgiveness, but why… why are you dressed like this?”

  Wilson, head of the Royal Guards, arrived just then. His brows lifted, and he straightened instinctively, a faint flicker of surprise crossing his eyes.

  He said nothing, simply falling into step behind the Emperor, while his gaze briefly caught the gleam of a golden crest on the wall — a subtle reminder of the Empire’s reach.

  Ronald said nothing for a moment, the faint rustle of his cloak filling the silence. Then he spoke, his voice calm and precise: “We are leaving the palace.”

  Jerry stiffened, her fingers tightening on the folds of her apron. Wilson’s posture remained rigid, but his eyes darted briefly to the empty hall, alert.

  A pause lingered, heavy with authority, before Ronald added one name:

  “James Vale.”

  No further explanation followed — nor was one required.

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  The palace itself seemed to hold its breath.

  Far from the palace and its silent authority, the warm scent of baked bread and firewood filled James’ home.

  Floretta moved quietly, her hands busy with familiar work, the wooden floor creaking softly beneath her feet.

  A gentle breeze drifted in through the open window, rustling the curtains and carrying faint laughter — Anna’s — across the room. The sound of a bird tapping against the window frame mingled with the faint rustle of leaves outside, adding to the quiet domestic rhythm.

  At the door, a man appeared. His bearing alone seemed to fill the small entryway with quiet authority.

  “Who are you? How can I help you?”

  Floretta asked, her voice cautious, fingers clutching the hem of her apron.

  Pointing a finger toward James, Ronald’s lips curved in a faint, teasing smile. “A friend of his.”

  Floretta hesitated for a moment, then stepped aside. “Please… come in.”

  Ronald entered, and James remained still, his gaze fixed on Ronald.

  The guards shifted, exchanging subtle glances, unsure how to behave, though neither betrayed it openly. Wilson’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly as his eyes scanned the room, noting a map of distant territories hung near the fireplace. Jerry’s eyes flickered to the decorations

  — small emblems of Empire authority scattered across the shelves — awe and curiosity mixed in her expression.

  James finally spoke, his voice steady: “He is my childhood friend.”

  Then James looked directly at Ronald. “Your Majesty… why are you here?”

  Ronald leaned slightly forward, ruffling Anna’s hair with a playful smile. Anna wriggled, her tiny feet brushing against the rug, causing a soft flutter of her dress. Her giggles echoed softly around the room.

  Floretta froze, eyes wide, as James used the title. “Your Majesty… what—?” she stammered.

  Ronald chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Oh, my apologies. I didn’t introduce myself. I am Ronald Crystal, the Emperor of the Crystal Empire.”