Pastries were the best way to befriend Lady Ignarion. Noblewomen around our age often talked endlessly about pastry shops and bakeries scattered across Bresdan.

  Judging by how most girls of our age spoke, I suspected it wasn’t the pastries themselves they loved. But the image of buying from such refined and reputable places.

  I had no way of knowing if Lady Ignarion shared their obsession. Still, I decided to be cautious rather than bold and choose the best pastry shop in Bresdan. That turned out to be harder than I thought. Everyone had their own opinion.

  The gate guard at the University swore by the one in the Old Plaza.

  “Lauren’s Cake Shop is a family business, been around for more than a hundred years. They never changed their recipe and that’s what makes it the best.”

  The second recommendation wasn’t directed at me. I happened overheard it during class. A group of noble ladies chatted idly about a bakery called Misala’s Pastries.

  “You heard of Misala’s Pastries?”

  “That one by the park? Of course. Everyone has. I’ve heard amazing things about their cookies.”

  And the last suggestion came from the old gardener, who happened to overhear my earlier conversation with the guard.

  “My lady, if you’d permit me to offer my opinion?”

  I nodded.

  “I have a friend who works for House Hugel. She says Count Hugel starts every morning with bread from Bluen Bakery.”

  That caught my attention. If even the local ruler ate there, could there be a better endorsement?

  I kept all three places in mind. By the next weekend, I set out to visit each one.

  The first stop on my list was the farthest. Lauren’s Cake Shop was tucked away in the Old Plaza. As expected, the area was teeming with people. I sighed and joined the stream of foot traffic weaving through large alleyways until I reached a quieter street. Though still crowded, there was enough space to move comfortably.

  Shops lined both sides of the road, marked by hanging metal or wooden signs. Some signs were quite clever. One had a metal bird flapping its wings endlessly. Others stuck to a classic approach, using hand-painted signs in warm, welcoming colors.

  Lauren’s Cake Shop wasn’t flashy. A weathered wooden sign swung from a metal brace out front, its age concealed by layers of varnish. The storefront was lined with glass, offering a clear view of the cakes and bread inside.

  I pushed the door open, and a seashell wind chime rang gently above me. Inside, the shop reminded me of a winter cabin with its warm, cozy, and soft around the edges. While the scent of fresh bread wrapped around me like a blanket.

  There were only a few patrons browsing when I entered the bakery. Most of them maids in white uniforms. The guard hadn’t exaggerated. This place clearly had a long-standing reputation.

  I bought a small cake and a set of their famed two-baked honey biscuits. They had a golden brown hue and a rough texture, thanks to the visible bits of almond and hazelnut. I tried one immediately. It was soft and chewy, with a mellow sweetness that lingered pleasantly on my tongue.

  Next, I headed to Misala’s Pastries. The one recommended by the noble ladies. It sat near the park, which meant climbing my way back uphill toward the University. Thankfully, I found a quicker path this time, taking the alleyway stairs woven into Bresdan’s layout. I still felt a bit winded, but nothing close to how drained I’d been last time.

  Misala’s Pastries looked luxurious—elegant marble and gold accents, with wide windows to flaunt its carefully crafted display. The store was packed with patrons, many of whom were my classmates. I offered a faint smile as I passed by them and made my way inside.

  I bought the first pastry I saw, some sort of almond tart. After that I left as quickly as I could. For some reason, their presence made the place feel less comfortable. As if my purpose there was being watched or judged.

  The final stop was Bluen Bakery, the one the gardener had mentioned. If Count Hugel truly favored it, then perhaps this was the place I was looking for.

  Bluen Bakery was located in the New Plaza. Bresdan had two major plazas: the Old Plaza nestled in the lower city, and the New Plaza perched on a hill. The latter had been built alongside the University, clearly intended for the nobility’s children.

  I’d visited this place often with Griffin. Sometimes we’d try a new restaurant he’d heard about. Other times, we simply came to breathe and escape the pressure of school.

  Bluen Bakery stood at one of the corners of the New Plaza. Despite it being a weekend, the area wasn’t as crowded as its older counterpart.

  The bakery itself blended modern flair with old-world charm. Its wide glass windows revealed a warm interior filled with baked goods: cakes, fruit tarts, chocolate-soaked pretzels, donuts dusted in sugar. Everything sat neatly in wicker baskets with name tags pinned beside them.

  “Good morning, dear customer!”

  The cheerful greeting came from behind the counter. Two other staff members were helping customers, but one of them spared me a kind smile as I stepped further inside.

  I smiled. “Greetings.”

  “Are you looking for something specific, or would you like my suggestion?”

  “That’s kind of you, but I already have a list. I’ll take a dozen glazed donuts and those pretzels, please.”

  “Okay, I’ll pack them up.”

  I moved to the counter and waited as the staff arranged everything neatly into a thin white box, tying it closed with a ribbon.

  Once I’d bought everything I needed, I returned to the University. It was around ten in the morning when I arrived. I spent the last hours of my morning searching for Lady Ignarion.

  As I strolled around the University, A rumor came to my mind, something about her hiding among the buildings currently under restoration. I followed the paved path toward the glass garden, where those ruins stood nestled beneath growing vines and careful scaffolding.

  And there she was.

  Lady Ignarion walked toward me with a distant expression. She wore the standard brown and white uniform of the University, her red hair braided over one shoulder.

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  She flinched upon noticing me. But the moment recognition settled on her face, her posture relaxed.

  “Lady Goldhain. G-greetings,” she said, wary and unsure.

  “I didn’t expect to find you here, Lady Ignarion,” I replied with a gentle smile. “I was planning to visit the glass garden and enjoy the pastries I bought. Would you like to join me?”

  She agreed—though I knew she had little choice. With my higher status, refusing me outright would’ve been considered rude.

  She smiled politely. “I hope my presence won’t be a bother.”

  The glass garden shimmered in the morning light. Sunlight streamed through colored panes, casting a warm glow that made the building look almost enchanted. The scent of flowers and fresh dew greeted us as we stepped inside. We found a table near the fountain and sat in silence.

  I placed the boxes on the marble surface and cleared my throat.

  “I bought quite a few. Do you like pastries, Lady Ignarion?”

  Her gaze fell on the spread of cakes, biscuits, donuts, and pretzels. Surprise flickered in her eyes, but just as I thought I might finally be making a good impression, her expression hardened. She was guarded once again.

  “Thank you, Lady Goldhain. I’ll try some,” she said, tone polite but distant.

  She chose one of the honey biscuits. I picked up a pretzel and bit into it slowly.

  Last night, as I planned my quiet escape to this garden, I’d remembered what had happened to her.

  Lady Ignarion had once tried to flee Bresdan Royal University by detonating a smoke bomb inside the school. It caused chaos enough for her to slip away from the bullies who tormented her daily. She got expelled after being trialed in the Academy Tribunal. And that scandal destroyed her reputation and tarnished her family’s name.

  What happened after that was unclear. Her father died, and his brother assumed control over their territories. Rumors claimed she’d been confined to her room, hidden from public view. They said she wasn’t even allowed to attend her father’s funeral. Years later, she hanged herself... six years after she escaped the University.

  It seemed the abuse never stopped. Not even after she left these walls behind.

  Helping others had never been in my nature. After everything I’d endured, I’d decided to put myself first. Sacrificing myself for others had only led to my ruin. That was a mistake I would never repeat.

  And yet… a part of me wondered. If I stayed close to her, maybe I could lessen the damage to her name. Crows preferred larger carcasses over small ones, after all.

  I leaned forward. “Lady Ignarion, may I call you by your name? Lady Olivia?”

  She blinked, startled. “If that pleases you, my lady.”

  “Then in return, please feel free to call me Lady Morgana or just Morg.”

  Her eyes widened. The stained glass threw sunlight across her face, making her look softer, almost younger.

  “I wouldn’t dare! Everyone knows you're to be the crown princess.”

  I rolled my eyes. “That’s old news. I doubt the Imperial Family wants anything to do with me,” I muttered, though I knew Griffin wouldn’t let go of that idea so easily.

  In the days that followed, Olivia and I continued to meet in the glass garden. Sometimes we simply talked. Other times, she asked about our subjects, and I was more than willing to teach her.

  Once, she brought me a book, something on Golden Runes. She’d noticed I enjoyed reading about them and thought I might like it. She never asked why. My status as a newly Awakened was still a well-kept secret.

  The hours of reading helped me level up a skill.

  At first, my intentions were selfish. I approached her for my own benefit. But as time passed, something shifted.

  I didn’t want Olivia to suffer. I didn’t want her to meet a tragic end. Just like I did. I wanted her to live beautifully.

  But being seen with Olivia wasn’t without consequence. The bullying stopped, yes, but I knew how these people worked. The moment you tried to rise, they’d pull you back down harder. That knowledge lingered at the edge of every moment.

  I couldn’t help but stay on guard.

  I was on my way to submit an assignment to one of my teachers when Griffin suddenly appeared in the hallway. I froze, tempted to turn around. But if I did, I might miss the deadline.

  I stepped forward, trying to ignore him. But the closer I got, the louder my heart pounded. I hated how much power he still held over me. How fear and hatred tangled together every time I saw him.

  "Greetings to His Highness, the Prince."

  "Morgana."

  I lifted my head and forced a smile. “Do you need something from me, Your Highness?”

  "You already know what I need. To speak with you,” he said, clearly irritated.

  I flinched at his tone. “Didn’t I already make myself clear? I said I never wanted to see you again. Please respect that.”

  Griffin scoffed. “Respect? You keep calling me ‘Your Highness’, so if I order you to speak with me, will you obey? Since I’m above you?”

  I looked him in the eye, steadying my breath. He didn’t understand. Of course he didn’t. I wasn’t doing this to be cruel. I was doing this because I knew what the future held for us. If we followed the same path again, if we let ourselves fall into the same roles, we would destroy each other.

  “I would rather kill myself than obey you.” My voice didn’t tremble. “I hope that makes things clear.”

  Griffin’s eyes glistened. Tears clung to his lashes as he stared at me, silent and pleading.

  And for a moment, just one moment, my resolve wavered. What if I could change our future? What if I could fix the things that broke us? What if I came back not to run, but to make it right. To give us the ending we never had?

  But I shut my eyes and buried the thought.

  I could choose that path. But I wouldn’t. I didn’t want to be an empress trapped in golden chains, dressed and fed like royalty but no freer than a prisoner.

  “Please don’t speak to me again.” I bowed, turned my back on him, and walked away.

  After submitting my assignment, I lingered in the faculty office, pretending to seek counsel. I stayed there for nearly half an hour, just to make sure I wouldn’t run into Griffin on the way to the Glass Garden.

  Olivia had invited me to share some bread she’d baked herself. She’d taken up baking recently. Something to keep her mind off things, I assumed. On my way there, I passed a group of giggling girls. Their white uniforms were stained with dirt.

  How unlady-like.

  The garden was empty, but something was off. The plants looked trampled, the flowers bent and torn, as if a storm had passed through.

  A wave of unease crept over me.

  “Olivia!” I called, glancing around the garden.

  No answer.

  I called her name three more times, and was just about to head out when I heard a wailing sound, faint but unmistakable. I froze, listening closely, then followed the sound. The further I walked, the more damaged the plants became. Soil was scattered everywhere, like someone had clawed through it in desperation.

  The sound led me to the forested part of the garden. There, lying on the ground, was Olivia.

  Her eyes were half-lidded, her face bruised, her tangled hair matted with dirt.

  “Olivia!” I rushed to her side, hands trembling with fear and rage. “What happened to you?”

  “Lady Morgana…” she whispered, wincing.

  “Don’t talk. I’ll help you up. We’re going to the infirmary.”

  Tears glistened in her eyes as she tried to sit. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and slowly helped her stand.

  “Who did this to you?” I asked, voice low and tight.

  But she shook her head, lips pressed into a firm line.

  We moved slowly through the garden. The sun had dipped low, dyeing the sky in shades of blood-red. Olivia hissed in pain, breath hitching with each step.

  “I want to leave this place,” she said softly.

  I glanced at her. Tears streamed down her cheeks like falling rain. My anger surged again, hotter this time, deeper.

  “Who did this to you?” I asked again, more firmly now.

  “You’ll only make it worse for me,” she snapped, then quickly added, “I didn’t mean to shout. It’s just... I want to go home. I want to be done with this place.”

  I saw a stone bench and gently helped Olivia sit down. I took a seat beside her.

  We sat bathed in the red light of the setting sun. The wind brushed against our ears, whistling through the silence like a warning.

  My heart raced, not with anger, but with realization. This might be my only chance. She had openly voiced her desire to leave the University.

  But as the thought settled, guilt coiled inside me. How despicable of me to think of using her pain for my own plan. Was I really any better than those who hurt her?

  "I also want to leave this place," I said, my voice quieter than before, "to get as far away as possible..."

  "To the Crown Prince?" Olivia asked. "I heard a rumor that you two stopped speaking."

  I nodded, pressing my hands into the folds of my skirt. “He’s part of the reason.”

  Silence returned, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The sky faded from crimson to deep violet, and stars emerged like distant torches along a mountain ridge.

  Then Olivia spoke, her voice trembling but resolute. "My lady... what if I had a way for us to escape this place. Would you help me?"

  My breath caught.

  “I’m listening,” I said.