Previously
Determined to help Caesar transition to human life, Irenia uses the dagger from Giovinetta to cut her own injured leg, offering her blood to the starving Prince. Caesar, driven by instinct, drinks from her leg and then licks her palm, eventually calming down and regaining his senses.
I had never attended a ball myself, yet I knew what had to be done. Perhaps it was because Giovinetta had spoken endlessly of her debut into high society. I had heard it so many times that her stories had become etched into my own memory, helping me picture the contours of the ballroom. Then, without warning, her words surfaced in my mind.
“So many gentlemen asked me to dance.”
The way she spoke those words, lost in a reverie, remained as clear in my thoughts as if it were yesterday. At the same time, a surge of dread and shame welled up inside me. Dancing was an integral part of such affairs; naturally, dancing before everyone would be an absolute necessity. I looked down silently at my legs. With these crippled limbs, walking straight was an ordeal in itself, let alone dancing.
How could I dance? I could never manage such a thing. And as I considered it once more, I realized the obstacle ran far deeper than a mere physical defect, for I was nothing like Caesar. I was far too weak to endure it.
“What should I do…?”
My throat grew parched. Dancing… Ever since my leg was ruined, I had never even entertained the thought of it. Had I ever learned to dance? Yes, I had some lessons long ago, but that was in a distant past.
Memories of older days suddenly rushed back, back to when I first entered the Flores estate. Those were the days after I lost Annariza and found myself homeless on the streets—bitter, solitary days. There was so little an orphan could do. I sold flowers in the streets to paupers, lovers, and children of wealthy families just to scrounge for a bite to eat.
I used to wake before dawn to wash in the square's fountain and comb my hair, then head up the mountains to pick blooms, assemble them into small bouquets, and sell them. There were countless children like me in the streets. More often than not, they succumbed to grievous illnesses and were carted off to the poorhouse.
I knew that keeping up appearances was vital. I always wore thin frocks and worn leather shoes, which made me look wretched enough to elicit pity.
Then, on a harsh winter day, one of the Flores family servants approached me and asked:
“What is your name?”
“Irenia, sir. Would you like to buy a flower?”
The servant laughed, his mustache twitching with a scoffing, disdainful sneer.
“You are the daughter of Cosimo Flores, aren't you?”
He claimed I was descended from the greatest wizard in history, of the illustrious Flores family—one of the three founding houses of the empire.
“Am I truly of the Flores family?”
I had never known that Annariza had once worked in their mansion, nor had I ever imagined that the blood of the Flores line ran through my veins.
Then, out of nowhere, as I reflected on those wretched days, a bitter, self-deprecating smile touched my lips. Only with time did I come to realize that the trembling I had felt was born of perpetual starvation, for I never had enough to eat back then.
Days drifted past, and after endless, rigid formalities, I stepped into the Flores mansion. It felt as though I had become a princess out of a fairy tale.
I no longer feared cold or hunger, and I had a roof over my head. I believed my suffering was finally over. The first time I laid eyes on the Duchess, I was captivated; she was the embodiment of everything I had ever dreamed of—a graceful, gracious lady.
Her emerald-green eyes and pale blonde hair reminded me of Annariza. A strange sense of familiarity drew me to her, as if I had discovered someone like myself.
“Greetings, Madam.”
When I stepped forward, she looked down at my face and spat in disdain:
“You look just like that worthless mother of yours.”
It should have been expected. Duchess Celestina loathed me, the living proof of an illicit affair… Yet, in spite of it all, she enrolled me in a private academy to be schooled in etiquette, which came as an utter surprise to me.
“You were born in the gutter and carry the habits of a beggar. I must remake you entirely.”
Confused as I was, I felt immensely grateful just to have been taken in. I fancied that the Duke and his wife considered me their daughter and cared for me. I could not have been more mistaken.
They set about molding me into a ‘princess’ or a ‘lady’ of the Flores household. Yet, naturally, darker intentions lay behind their efforts.
As time passed, I was instructed in court etiquette, rhetoric, history, foreign tongues, and the arts. What I failed to see was that all of it was merely part of a greater scheme to groom me for marriage to the Prince.
Then, during an incident, my leg was shattered, leaving me unable to dance or engage in any physical pursuit.
Even then, I never imagined I would be entangled in circumstances like these, nor that I would ever have to dance before a crowd of onlookers.
“Ren?”
Caesar’s voice broke the silence as I froze. His eyes were wide with questions.
“It’s nothing, nothing at all.”
I tried to soothe him, speaking with forced assurance even as my heart churned with dread and heartache.
Hoping to ease his worry, I pressed down gently with the hand caressing his head. There was something in the soft texture of his hair and the comforting warmth seeping through my fingertips that offered me a sliver of solace.
“Not yet…”
Three months remained until the banquet. By that point, I knew that dancing was hardly the only obstacle ahead. There were far too many hurdles… so fretting over the very last one was entirely pointless.
“For now… everything will be fine.”
My reassurances carried no genuine conviction. An ache continued to swell within my chest, suffocating me like a heavy stone pressed against my heart. Even so, I forced a lighthearted tone.
A solution had to exist, surely. I simply had not figured out what it was yet.
“Hey, Caesar.”
“Yes?”
“Shall we go get something to eat?”
I had been cooped up in the room for several days, so it was only natural that hunger had begun to gnaw at me. Caesar studied me for a heartbeat before nodding briskly.
Having sat on the floor for so long, standing up proved difficult. Just as I tried to gently push against my legs to rise, hands slid beneath my arms and hoisted me into the air. Caesar had scooped me up.
“Ah!”
A cry escaped my lips before I could catch myself, loud enough to carry through the door.
“Is something amiss?”
The guards stationed outside knocked on the door, calling out. I had no idea how to answer them, and as he lifted me higher into the air, my panic only mounted. Another sharp gasp slipped out.
I gasped because Caesar had lifted me clean into the air, holding me aloft in both hands. All at once, my view shot up so high that dizziness washed over me, as though I were about to lose my balance.
“Put me down, please!”
Even when I was a child, no one had ever lifted me like this. Not even Annariza. It was true I was small and frail, but this was absurd. It was as though he were handling a heavy bundle.
Thinking something had happened to me, the guards rushed closer, the metallic clatter of their armor ringing out as their footsteps neared.
“Are you unhurt, Your Highness?”
“Yes… I am fine.”
Despite my response, they pushed inside regardless, ushering Mercedes in ahead of them.
“Your Highness?”
FADE OUT