I took a bite of the bread Tessa had shoved into my hands, chewing slowly as the conversation around me continued in its usual absurdity. The rule had granted me a temporary reprieve—ten minutes of peace before my lap and my sanity were inevitably thrown back into the gladiatorial arena of noble affections.
I should have been relieved.
I should have been relaxing.
But that feeling—that strange, off-kilter sensation that had been creeping at the edges of my thoughts for weeks—was still there.
Lingering.
Subtle, but persistent.
Like something just beyond my field of vision wasn't quite right.
The city was bustling as usual, the café lively with the murmur of customers and the rhythmic clinking of cups and silverware. Outside, the streets were filled with nobles and merchants, students from the academy weaving through the crowd, their voices bright, carefree.
Too carefree.
Too normal.
I tried to ignore it. Tried to convince myself I was overthinking again.
But my instincts—both my own and whatever remnants of the original Sera Vandren still clung to me—were screaming otherwise.
I glanced at Camille. She had noticed it too.
She wasn't acting any differently—her posture still relaxed, her expression calm—but there was a sharpness to her gaze as she watched the passing people from the corner of her eye, as if she was scanning for something.
Diana, for all her usual theatrics, was sitting too still.
Lillian had been the first to notice something was strange. She hadn't mentioned it outright, but I had caught the small flickers of her gaze—measuring, calculating.
Even Tessa, in all her exhaustion, was gripping her cup just a little too tightly.
Only Claire remained unaffected, happily munching away on a plate of pastries, completely unaware of the underlying tension.
I swallowed, setting my bread down.
"You feel it too," I said quietly.
Camille didn't react at first. Then, after a brief pause, she nodded. "Yes."
Diana, resting her chin on her palm, let out a soft hum. "It's subtle, but undeniable. The atmosphere has changed."
Lillian finally spoke. "The city is too calm."
Claire blinked, mid-bite. "Huh?"
Tessa exhaled, finally setting her tea down. "It's hard to explain, but… it feels wrong. Like something's being hidden."
Claire frowned, finally paying attention. "Hidden?"
Lillian nodded. "There's no tension. No concern. No talk of the North Gate."
That was it. That was what had been bothering me.
The silence.
Even if the academy had been carefully monitoring the flow of information, the nobles in the city should have been whispering about it. There should have been rumors. Speculation. Worry.
Instead?
Nothing.
Claire slowly set her fork down. "Wait… now that you mention it, yeah. Shouldn't we be hearing something? Anything?"
Diana smirked slightly, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Perhaps they simply don't wish to concern the public."
Camille, ever practical, said, "Or someone is making sure they don't."
I exhaled slowly, my fingers tightening around the edge of the table. "My parents haven't written anything about it, either."
That made them all go silent.
Diana studied me, her gaze sharp. "Nothing at all?"
I shook my head. "Not a single letter since the last update."
Tessa cursed under her breath.
Lillian's lips pressed together, her fingers curling slightly against the table.
Camille finally turned fully toward me. "That's not normal."
I let out a humorless laugh. "No. It's really not."
Diana leaned back in her chair, exhaling dramatically. "So. The academy isn't speaking about it. The nobles aren't whispering. And even the highest-ranked officials at the front lines aren't sending reports back."
Claire, finally understanding the weight of it all, muttered, "That's really bad, isn't it?"
No one answered.
Because we all knew the answer.
Yes.
It was really, really bad.
The North Gate was one of the kingdom's strongest defenses. If something was wrong there, it could mean a full-scale disaster.
And the fact that no one was talking about it meant one of two things:
Either nothing was wrong at all.
Or—
It was so catastrophic that no one could afford to let the truth spread.
I swallowed, trying to push down the rising feeling of dread. "We need to find out what's going on."
Lillian nodded, her expression unreadable. "Agreed."
Diana smirked. "I do love a good mystery."
Camille glanced out the window again. "We should be careful."
Tessa sighed. "Do we even have a way to investigate?"
I was about to answer, but before I could—
A loud commotion erupted outside.
The café fell silent.
All at once, we turned toward the windows, eyes locking onto the source of the disturbance.
A group of officials, clad in royal insignia, had gathered in the middle of the street, their faces tight with urgency. They were speaking in hushed, tense tones, but even from here, I could see the unmistakable crest of the North Gate pinned to their cloaks.
My heart stopped.
Claire whispered, "…Sera?"
I stood immediately.
I didn't know what was happening.
But I knew one thing.
It was finally happening.
The slow dread that had been creeping in for weeks, the **unease, the quiet fear, the silence that had stretched on for too long—**it had all shattered in an instant.
Without thinking, I ran.
The sound of my chair scraping against the floor barely registered as I dashed out of the café, my heart hammering in my chest. The cold air hit my skin as I pushed through the bustling street, weaving through startled pedestrians, ignoring the calls behind me.
I didn't stop until I reached the group of royal guards in the middle of the road, their urgent whispers cutting off the moment I arrived.
"Excuse me! What's happening? Do you know?" I asked, breathless.
One of the guards, a man clad in the insignia of the North Gate, turned to me with a sharp, startled expression. His hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his sword, but when his eyes landed on my face, his brows lifted in recognition.
"Lady Vandren?" His voice held surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"That's not the point!" I snapped, my pulse racing. "Just answer my question!"
Footsteps pounded behind me, and I heard Camille's voice cut through the tension. "Sera!"
The guard hesitated for a second, but then his expression hardened.
"They've arrived," he said grimly. "The monsters. They've infiltrated the North Gate. And the South—just near the countryside—"
My blood ran cold.
"What?!"
Claire's voice, shaken, came from beside me. I turned just in time to see the piece of bread she had been holding fall from her hands, hitting the ground with a dull thud.
"The South?" Her voice was barely a whisper. "Countryside?"
Then her entire body tensed.
"That's where my family lives."
The words hit like a shockwave.
Claire didn't wait.
She turned and ran.
"Claire! Wait!" I called out, reaching for her, but she was already bolting down the street, shoving past people with reckless desperation.
"I'll take care of her," Tessa said firmly, already moving.
Her hand barely brushed against my shoulder in passing, as if to ground me for just a second, before she took off after Claire.
I stood there, frozen, my mind reeling.
This was really happening.
This wasn't just an abstract thought, a looming fear on the horizon. This was real. This was now.
Behind me, Diana exhaled slowly, her voice eerily composed, but I could hear the sharp edge beneath it. "...So it's finally here."
Her hands clenched into fists. "My father..."
The guard closest to her stiffened. His expression shifted when his eyes landed on her face.
"Princess Aurora?"
Lillian, standing beside me, gave a small, polite nod. "Hello."
Her voice was calm, but there was something heavy in the way she spoke, something deliberate. She wasn't just acknowledging his presence—she was announcing something.
The guard straightened immediately, bowing his head slightly.
"I just received a message telling me to return at once due to an emergency," she continued, her tone cool and unreadable. "It seems the situation is as bad as we feared."
Her fingers brushed against mine for the briefest second, a light squeeze that barely registered, but the message was clear.
It's going to be fine.
Then she was gone, turning swiftly on her heel, stepping away from us with the same grace she always carried. But this time, it felt different.
This wasn't Lillian Aurora, the composed noble who entertained lighthearted banter in cafés.
This was Princess Aurora, heir to the throne.
The guards parted immediately for her. No hesitation, no questions.
Camille and I stood in the middle of it all, the weight of everything sinking in too fast, too heavy.
The lead guard turned back to us. "I don't think you two should follow," he said, voice measured. "The situation is far too dangerous."
A part of me understood.
This wasn't like the training exercises at the facility. It wasn't another trial or strategy game at the academy.
This was a real battlefield.
A real invasion.
A real war.
But another part of me—**the part that had fought tooth and nail to survive in this world, the part that had felt the growing unease twisting in my chest for weeks—**refused to accept being left behind.
I lifted my chin. "And if I told you we're going anyway?"
The guard sighed. "Then I suppose I don't have a choice."
Camille, standing beside me, finally spoke.
"Then let's not waste time."
She was calm. Composed. But her ice-blue eyes had darkened.