Cassie wiped her hands on her apron as she leaned back against the stone wall outside the scullery. The palace had grown more familiar over the past weeks, its routines carved into her like grooves in stone. Waking before dawn, moving through the maze of halls, bowing her head at the right moments.

Yet she remained vigilant, watching and listening. The nobles’ whispers carried more weight than the endless gossip of the servants, and she had learned to pick out patterns in the noise.

Crown Prince Theodoric, with his cold authority, remained at the center of every interaction. The younger prince, quieter but no less calculated, seemed to linger at the edges of the court’s power games, and Lady Seraphina’s temper continued to ripple through the palace like an unstable current.

These dynamics felt natural at first. But as the days passed, Cassie found herself unsettled by their familiarity. It was as though she had seen this all before—somewhere she couldn’t quite place.

Her unease grew sharper as she overheard a conversation between two maids one evening while folding linens.

“It’s just like a story,” one of them said with a dreamy sigh. “The cold Crown Prince, the jealous fiancée, the ambitious younger brother—it’s like something out of a fairytale.”

The other maid scoffed, tossing a pillow onto the pile. “Fairytale? It’s more like a drama. Have you seen how they fight? If anyone’s getting a happy ending, it won’t be her.”

The words struck a chord Cassie couldn’t ignore, echoing in her mind long after the maids had left the room.

The memory surfaced unbidden that night as Cassie lay on her narrow bunk, staring at the cracked plaster of the ceiling. Evelyn’s voice returned, clear and sharp, dragging her back to a moment she had tried to bury.

It had been a rare quiet night on the battlefield. Their squad was hunkered down in the ruins of a collapsed building, waiting for orders. Evelyn had leaned back against a wall, her rifle balanced on her lap, her expression oddly light for someone surrounded by death.

“You ever play an otome game?” she had asked, her tone as casual as though she were talking about the weather.

Cassie had frowned, not bothering to look at her. “No.”

“You should.” Evelyn’s grin widened, her teeth flashing white against the grime on her face. “They’re ridiculous, but they’re great. It’s always the same: some plucky girl gets caught in a web of court politics, falls for one of the handsome idiots around her, and somehow makes it out alive.”

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Cassie rolled her eyes. “Sounds useless.”

“You say that now, but it’s fun.” Evelyn’s voice turned wistful. “There’s always a cold prince. You know, the brooding type who can’t express his feelings. And a younger brother, charming but secretly ruthless. And of course, the jealous fiancée who makes everything worse.” She gestured dramatically, as if conjuring the characters from thin air.

Cassie had dismissed it then, brushing off the conversation as one of Evelyn’s many distractions. But now, lying in the suffocating stillness of the dormitory, her words felt like a warning.

The next day, Cassie moved through her tasks with a newfound sense of unease. The more she observed, the more the pieces clicked into place.

She remembered Evelyn’s description—the cold prince, the ambitious brother, the jealous fiancée—and saw their echoes in the palace’s daily life. Crown Prince Theodoric, with his piercing gaze and unyielding demeanor, fit the archetype perfectly.

His fiancée, Lady Esther, burned with a sharp intensity, her beauty offset by the whispers of her temper. And the younger prince—Cassie had seen heard of him in passing, his quiet demeanor hiding a watchfulness that felt calculated.

It was almost too perfect.

Cassie’s suspicions deepened as she listened to the maids chatter throughout the day. Near the laundry room, she caught snippets of a conversation about the Crown Prince’s latest meeting.

“He barely spoke to her,” one maid whispered, shaking out a sheet. “She was furious. She even threw one of those gilded candlesticks in her room.”

“Can you blame her?” another replied. “Everyone’s watching. If they’re not united at the ball, it’ll be a disaster.”

Cassie froze, her hands stilling on the pile of linens.

The ball. Evelyn had mentioned a pivotal event in the otome game she’d described—a grand ball where alliances shifted, where the heroine debuted and the younger prince began to make his move.

Later, in the grand dining hall, she overheard more whispers as two senior maids polished silverware.

“Everything has to be perfect for the ball,” one of them said. “The Crown Prince and Lady Esther’s first formal appearance together—it’ll set the tone for the whole season.”

“And the younger prince?” the other asked, her voice lowered.

“Quiet as always,” the first replied, her lips curling into a knowing smile. “But I wouldn’t count him out. He’s been meeting with some of the southern nobles, you know.”

Cassie’s chest tightened. The pieces were falling into place, the picture growing clearer with every overheard word.

By the time the sun set, casting long shadows across the palace grounds, Cassie’s mind was racing. She scrubbed the floor of a lesser-used corridor, the repetitive motion doing little to calm the storm of thoughts.

“So this is your perfect world, traitor,” she muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible over the scrape of the brush against stone.

Her knuckles whitened as she tightened her grip on the brush, the weight of her realization pressing down on her. Evelyn’s fantasy—her foolish obsession with otome games—was mirrored in the palace with eerie precision.

Cassie exhaled sharply, her movements growing slower as she let the thought settle. If this was a game, it was one she had no intention of playing.

But the world around her didn’t care about her intentions.