The silence in the grand study of House Amberhart had settled once more. A gentle ticking echoed from an antique clock mounted above the fireplace, as the golden flames danced in solemn rhythm to thoughts that weighed heavy in Amelia Amberhart's mind. The ornate ceiling, carved in elegant baroque patterns, reflected the flickers of light from the hearth below, painting restless shadows across the red and ivory carpet.
Amelia's eyes, golden and commanding, slowly swept across the room as if awakening from a trance. Her posture was still poised and dignified—one leg crossed over the other, chin slightly raised, her fingers intertwined atop the armrest of the crimson-velvet chair. But within her gaze, something lingered. Not fear. Not doubt. Calculation.
The memory of Naoko Roche's silver stare still shimmered in her mind like a shard of moonlight in a battlefield of fire.
"…Naoko Roche… You truly are a force untouched by reverence," she muttered to herself, her voice smooth but laced with something bitter.
Then, with a gentle flick of her fingers, a soft chime echoed in the halls outside.
A moment passed.
The heavy mahogany door creaked open.
And there stood her daughter—Rina Amberhart.
She stepped into the room with a quiet grace, the soft clack of her polished heels echoing against the marble floor. Her hair, a magnificent blaze of crimson and gold, fell in waves around her shoulders like a burning river frozen in time. Her eyes—once brilliant golden mirrors of curiosity and joy—were now dulled, lifeless suns caught in a long eclipse.
Her fire had not been extinguished, but buried.
Amelia watched her daughter for a long, unreadable moment. The resemblance between them was undeniable: both beautiful, poised, elegant. But while Amelia wore pride and power like a crown, Rina wore sorrow like a veil.
"You called for me, Mother?" Rina asked quietly, her voice as smooth as silk, yet hollow.
Amelia let out a soft sigh—not of disappointment, but perhaps something close to regret. Or at least, what regret might feel like in someone trained to avoid it.
"Yes," Amelia replied, standing from her chair and walking slowly toward the tall window that framed the vast Amberhart estate. Outside, the sun was setting behind the hills, casting the horizon in molten orange.
She did not turn to face her daughter.
"Tomorrow," Amelia said, her tone as steady and formal as ever, "you will accompany me to the Roche estate."
Rina blinked. Her posture stiffened slightly, but her face remained still—calm as a porcelain mask.
"To the Roche estate…" she repeated, as if the words tasted foreign.
Amelia turned, her crimson gown flowing behind her like a tongue of fire. She faced her daughter now, eyes narrowed slightly.
"You will meet your future husband," she said. "And your mother-in-law… Naoko Roche."
Rina stared at her mother, as if waiting for the joke to end.
But Amelia was not one for jokes.
"I see," Rina finally whispered. Her voice cracked—not loudly, but just enough to betray her humanity beneath all the layers of training, expectations, and duty.
A silence stretched between them. Amelia did not flinch. Rina did not move.
The flames in the hearth crackled, as if bearing witness to a sentence being passed.
"Is this… truly decided?" Rina asked, her voice softer now. "Without asking me?"
Amelia stepped forward, her heels echoing with authority.
"You are an Amberhart," she said, her voice cold but not cruel. "And this engagement is no mere affair of emotion. It is an alliance. One that has the potential to change the course of our future."
She walked past Rina now, gently brushing a hand over her daughter's arm in a motion that was not affection—but habit.
"You will be wedded to the heir of the Roche bloodline, and you will do so with pride."
"But they're isolated," Rina whispered, her brows furrowing. "The Roche family doesn't concern themselves with politics. Why now?"
Amelia paused.
"Because even stars that hide behind clouds have gravity," she said. "Naoko Roche is a force that even gods tremble to acknowledge. And her son... is no ordinary man."
She looked over her shoulder.
"And neither are you."
Rina remained still, but her chest rose and fell with a quiet defiance. Her mind swam with memories—dreams she once had, people she once loved, the idea of freedom. All now being reshaped into something else—something predetermined.
A tear threatened to escape her eye, but she blinked it back with the last ember of dignity she clung to.
"…Will I be happy?" she asked, not to her mother—but to the room itself.
Amelia turned to her fully now, her golden eyes softening just slightly.
"You will be powerful," she said.
Then she walked past Rina, heading toward the corridor. Her voice drifted behind her like smoke.
"Be ready by dawn."
And just like that, the silence reclaimed the room. Rina stood alone in the middle of the study, bathed in the golden twilight filtering through the tall windows. Her crimson hair caught the light like fire given shape—yet her heart felt like ice.
She clenched her fists slowly, her golden eyes lowering to the marble beneath her feet.
The heir to fire was being handed to the moon.
And tomorrow… she would meet the woman called Naoko Roche.