The Silver Palace of the Princess.
Its official name was Tiase Palace, but everyone preferred its nickname—because its walls gleamed like cool moonlight, as though brushed in liquid silver.
The Crown Princess’s residence was in an uproar from early morning.
All because of Olivia Madeleine—the Prince’s fiancée—whose silver hair shone just like the palace itself.
"*Ahem, ahem, ahem!*"
Baroness Sophron, sitting beside me, kept coughing more and more loudly.
I smiled at her—a mix of confusion and faint annoyance.
"Do I look like I’ve been crying?"
"Pardon?"
"It’s Wednesday, isn’t it?"
The day I always met Leopold.
Baroness Sophron seemed to remember as well and picked up a small hand mirror.
I checked my reflection and dabbed at the corners of my eyes.
"You look more... tired than tearful, Your Highness."
"Please prepare my makeup."
She nodded and left the room.
As the door clicked shut, I exhaled the breath I’d been holding.
My fingertips—forced to stay still for so long—trembled slightly.
At least... Madeleine isn’t directly mentioned in the rumors.
It was absurd how I could still worry about the family’s honor.
I let my mouth twitch into a weak parody of a smile.
No one had come after me when I left the Duke’s house last night.
No—did my family even know I’d gone?
Truthfully, I’d even been seen off this morning.
A self-mocking curve tugged at my lips.
I remembered Hannah, waving enthusiastically at dawn, saying she hoped we could meet again.
And the Grand Duke, standing before the tall windows on the second floor, watching.
His figure had shimmered in my vision as the carriage pulled away.
He’d told me I could stay as long as I wanted.
But I couldn’t do that.
Even today, if there had been a Vikander crest on that carriage, the Grand Duke would’ve been dragged into scandal with me.
Whatever else I had become—I would not bring trouble to my benefactor.
Madeleine is still clear in how I repay my debts...
Without meaning to, my thoughts turned back to Madeleine.
The family I’d longed for. And the place I couldn’t return to anymore.
"...I’m glad I had here."
I murmured and looked out the window.
Under the high sun, Tiase Palace shimmered in silver.
From the day I’d been engaged at nine years old, I’d known this palace would someday be mine.
I’d always thought I would walk in proudly as Crown Princess.
Instead, I’d arrived as if chased.
I ran my fingers through my hair—a long-standing habit.
Silver strands slipped between my fingers, reminding me again of Madeleine. Of Ethella, who’d fainted.
Even after shouting those horrible things, Ethella had still looked shocked.
She’d always been frail and sickly.
Whenever she fell ill, I would sneak in and hold her hand—away from Father’s and Conrad’s eyes.
I should’ve told her then. Told her everything.
If I had, maybe I wouldn’t be here, wondering if I’d ever get to hold her hand again.
Would she have believed me, even then?
The question rolled in my chest, and my eyes widened as realization dawned.
I wasn’t disappointed this time.
This was resignation.
Every time my family pushed me away, I’d felt sadness and hurt—and a desperate wish to still be with them.
That wish—the thing that had driven me for fourteen years—was fading.
I swallowed hard as the belated understanding settled in.
My green eyes fluttered, suddenly afraid.
---
Suddenly, a maid walking far off caught my eye.
Among the many maids, what stood out was the teapot she carried.
"Baroness Sophron."
"Yes, Princess."
The Baroness approached.
"That maid is carrying my teapot."
The teapot—embossed with green flowers—had been imported from the Kingdom of Gershwin, famed for its ceramics.
It was my favorite teapot in the palace.
There were only two sets like it in the entire Empire. One was on the table before me.
And the other... was over there.
It wasn’t even a day scheduled for cleaning.
I opened my mouth to ask where they were taking it, but Baroness Sophron looked mortified.
"Well, that is—"
Anxiety stabbed through me.
I stood abruptly.
The Baroness grabbed my hand:
"Y-Your Highness! Where are you going?"
"I’ll check for myself."
The Baroness’s palm was slick with sweat.
Seeing her stricken face, my unease hardened into certainty.
"I’m going, Baroness."
My heart hammered, but my voice remained unnervingly calm.
Even I couldn’t feel the full reality of what was happening yet.
But looking at the Baroness’s trembling eyes, I began to understand.
If I go now, I won’t even have the luxury of hoping for Leopold anymore.
Why do all the terrible things come at once?
I wanted to ask someone.
But I already knew the answer had to come from me.
"I heard the Princess came into the Crown Prince’s palace."
A woman’s complaining voice drifted to me.
I stopped without realizing it.
It was Maria Ethel’s voice.
"So they say."
Leopold’s voice, sounding faintly displeased.
Then Maria’s charming laugh—light and happy.
So different from my own ragged breathing.
They’re drinking tea... in the flower garden.
Just five minutes from my table, using my favorite teapot, in my part of the palace.
This was absurd.
Tiase Palace had been assigned to me.
No matter what Leopold thought, this was unfair.
I clenched my teeth and stepped forward.
"Remember, Leopold?"
The moment Maria Ethel said his name, I froze.
As his fiancée, I’d never even called him that.
Yet the servants nearby said nothing—as if this were all completely normal.
Even his aide, Count Hodges, stayed quiet.
Maria flicked her hair.
Leopold caught a handful of her golden strands and pressed a kiss to them.
It was a mercy I couldn’t see his face.
If those bright blue eyes—always clouded with annoyance when looking at me—had turned that gentle on Maria... I might have broken entirely.
"You once said this palace looked just like me. On days like this—when the sunset hits—it glows as brilliantly as my blonde hair. Just like now."
That was stupid.
This was the Silver Palace. My Silver Palace.
I wanted to protest—to tell her she was wrong.
But as I looked around at the sunset-drenched palace, at Maria, at Leopold, and beyond them—the Empress’s palace glowing gold—I felt my heart drop.
The palace I believed resembled me—where has it gone?
My lips trembled.
This had to be a dream.
Maybe I was still sleeping in the Grand Duke’s mansion, wrapped in those improbably soft blankets.
Maria’s voice cut that hope apart:
"I love being here with Your Highness every Wednesday. It really makes me feel like your fiancée."
My heart lurched.
Had Leopold—who always claimed to be too busy—been breaking promises to me just to sit here with Maria?
"If the Princess came here, it’d be hard to meet like this, right?"
She stretched the question out, savoring it.
Something rose in my chest—raw and shaking.
Instinct screamed at me to turn around and run.
But Leopold spoke before I could move:
"No chance."
He denied it firmly—and then chuckled.
My favorite sound from him.
It was followed by words that twisted like a knife:
"The Princess knows her place. She’d never cause you any trouble. I guarantee it."
Everything I’d been barely holding together crashed like a wave over me.
Every hope I’d nurtured—
My family, who I’d thought might turn back toward me one day.
My fiancé, whose love I’d longed for.
All of it shattered.
I smiled before I realized it.
The same brittle smile I’d worn at my debutante ball.
That day, I’d smiled because I thought I’d explode in tears otherwise.
I had whispered to myself, back then too:
Stupid Olivia. Stupid Olivia. Don’t cry.
Everything I’d hoped for was collapsing now like a sandcastle under a black tide.
The end of my unrequited love was uglier than I had ever imagined.
I pressed my palms to my face.
Even as I tried to breathe the way Mother had taught me, pain surged through me.
Nothing is going to be all right. Mother was wrong.
Even if I do my best—some things will never happen.
As that truth settled, a dense, inescapable misery wrapped around me.
I really have nowhere to go now.
---
As I smiled faintly at the thought, I heard hurried footsteps approaching.
My body stiffened.
The compartment we’d lived in was gone—but I still didn’t know if that drunk brute of a landlord walked these streets.
An unexpected fear gripped me.
Someone... please help me. Just this once.
Instinctively, I remembered the debutante ball—when I’d first silently begged anyone to help me.
That prayer had gone unanswered.
This time will be the same. No one will help me.
I’d gotten used to giving up.
I bit my lip and begged at least for the footsteps to pass me by.