The grand hall of the Imperial Castle was alive with the soft hum of conversation, the occasional rustle of silk, and the faint scent of floral incense that clung to the air. The afternoon sun streamed through the high-arched windows, casting long, golden beams across the polished floors.
Gina sat among the ladies-in-waiting, laughing at a jest Mirha had made, when the heavy doors of the entrance swung open.
A chill ran down her spine before she even saw the woman step in.
Misha Tiavan.
Draped in deep blue silk with golden embroidery, her posture was impeccable, her steps measured, and her expression—oh, it was warm, too warm. A slow, deliberate smile spread across her lips as she took in the opulence around her. To the untrained eye, she was the perfect image of grace, a woman of poise and maternal affection.
But Gina knew better.
Her hands curled into her lap as a wave of nausea swept over her.
"Mistress Tiavan," Kanha greeted first, stepping forward with her usual saccharine politeness. "What a pleasant surprise."
Gina's mother let out a soft, tinkling laugh, placing a delicate hand over her chest. "Oh, my dear, surely you must know—I simply couldn't wait for an invitation to my own daughter's wedding."
Gina's breath caught in her throat.
Wedding?
She barely had time to process the words before Misha turned to her, that same gentle, affectionate smile fixed in place.
"Gina, my love," she crooned, reaching out to cup her daughter's cheek. Her touch was light, but Gina could feel the weight of it, like iron shackles hidden beneath layers of silk. "You look radiant. The court life suits you well."
Gina swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing a smile. "Mother, I… I wasn't expecting you."
Misha gave a soft chuckle, shaking her head as if the idea was absurd. "Of course you weren't, my dear. I wanted to surprise you." She patted Gina's cheek once, then dropped her hand, folding it gracefully in front of her. "Surely you didn't think I would miss such an important time in your life?"
Kanha let out a quiet, satisfied hum beside them, clearly enjoying Gina's discomfort.
Gina schooled her expression. "Of course not, Mother," she said, her voice steady despite the icy grip of fear tightening around her ribs. "Shall we speak in private?"
Misha's eyes glimmered, her smile never faltering. "Yes, my dear," she said softly. "I think that would be wise."
As Gina led her mother away, she could feel the curious gazes of the other ladies following them.
She didn't need to turn around to know that Kanha was smiling.
She could already feel it.
The walk to Gina's chambers felt longer than it should have. Every step was a battle to keep her breathing even, to stop her hands from trembling at her sides. She could feel her mother's presence beside her, the warmth of her silken sleeve brushing against Gina's own, a silent reminder of how close she was—how inescapable.
The moment they entered her chambers, Gina turned to shut the door, her fingers lingering on the handle as if she could somehow lock out the past.
Behind her, Misha walked in leisurely, her eyes scanning the room, taking in every detail—the fine drapes, the carved furniture, the luxurious cushions. She let out a soft hum of approval.
"Impressive," she mused, trailing her fingers over the wooden surface of a vanity. "You've done well for yourself, haven't you?"
Gina straightened, folding her hands before her. "Mother, why are you really here?"
Misha turned, her delicate brows lifting in feigned surprise. "Why, Gina, must you always assume the worst of me?" She let out a light laugh, shaking her head. "I told you—I came to see you, to celebrate your blessed future."
"My future?" Gina echoed, wary.
Misha smiled. "With the Duke, of course."
Her stomach clenched. "Mother, I—"
A soft sigh interrupted her. "Gina," Misha said, her voice taking on that patient, too patient tone. "Do you know how fortunate you are? A Duke, cousin to the Emperor himself, is smitten with you. You are not a noble by birth, yet here you are, entertaining suitors of the highest standing. If only your father were alive to see this… he would be so proud."
Gina's jaw tightened. "The Duke and I are not engaged."
Misha tilted her head. "Not yet."
Silence stretched between them, and for the briefest moment, Gina entertained the idea of telling her mother the truth—that she had no intention of letting Rnzo claim her so easily, that she was not some prize to be handed over.
But she knew better.
Misha always had a way of twisting things, of making Gina feel like a foolish, ungrateful child.
Sure enough, Misha's lips parted in a quiet sigh, her expression shifting into something soft, something wounded. "I thought you would be happy," she murmured. "I thought, after everything I've done for you, you would at least consider my feelings."
Gina closed her eyes briefly. There it was—the guilt.
Her mother took a step closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Do you know how much I sacrificed to give you this life? To see you here, in the Imperial Castle, among nobility? Do you think that came easily?" Her fingers brushed Gina's cheek, deceptively gentle. "I worked so hard to make sure you would never struggle the way I did. And now you hesitate to secure your future?"
Gina swallowed, keeping her expression neutral. "I appreciate everything you've done for me, Mother."
Misha smiled again, pleased. "Then you understand why I came."
Gina nodded slowly. "Yes. You came to ensure I make the right choice."
Her mother's gaze held hers, the warmth in her expression never faltering. "You're such a smart girl." She patted Gina's cheek once more before stepping back. "I will not force you, my love. You are free to do as you wish."
Liar.
"Of course," Gina said instead, forcing a smile.
Misha beamed. "Good. Now, be a dear and have tea brought in, won't you? We have so much to catch up on."
Gina nodded and turned toward the door, each step feeling heavier than the last.
She knew her mother's game.
And now, more than ever, she knew she was running out of time.
Gina sat perfectly still, her back straight as a board, her hands resting in her lap, fingers pressing into the fabric of her dress. Across from her, Misha Tiavan sipped her tea with slow, deliberate grace, her gaze never straying from her daughter.
The room was suffocatingly quiet.
The air smelled of jasmine, honey, and something far too sweet—like the scent of fruit left too long in the sun.
Misha placed her cup down with a soft clink before smiling, though the expression never reached her eyes. "I was not going to wait for an invitation, you know."
Gina kept her gaze low, nodding slightly. She knew better than to speak unless absolutely necessary.
Misha sighed, tilting her head. "Oh, darling, don't be so stiff. I came all this way because I was excited."
Another nod.
Misha's fingers tapped against the porcelain of her teacup. "So?"
Gina hesitated. "So…?"
Misha's smile didn't falter, but something in her expression sharpened. "So, tell me about the men."
Gina's fingers curled slightly.
"I hear the Duke has been making quite the spectacle." Misha's voice remained light, almost playful, but Gina knew the steel beneath it.
She swallowed, choosing her words carefully. "He is… persistent."
Misha hummed. "And? Will you accept him?"
Gina's throat felt tight.
Misha exhaled, shaking her head as if disappointed already. "Gina."
Gina lifted her eyes but didn't speak.
Her mother leaned forward slightly, still smiling. "What have I always told you?"
There was no correct answer.
Gina's silence stretched.
Misha's hand shot out, fingers grasping Gina's chin—not hard, not enough to bruise, but just enough pressure to make a point. "A man like that doesn't chase a woman forever."
Gina held her breath, forcing herself not to flinch.
Misha released her just as quickly, sitting back with a sigh, smoothing the fabric of her dress. "You will not embarrass me, Gina."
A pause.
A long, heavy pause.
Then, softer—too soft: "Do you understand?"
Gina exhaled through her nose. "Yes, Mother."
Misha's smile returned, bright and blinding. "Good girl."
She reached for her tea again, as if nothing had happened. As if she hadn't just made it clear that Gina had no choice.
And Gina, ever silent, ever obedient, simply sat there, her stomach twisting into knots.
There was no reasoning with Misha. There never had been.
Mirha watched as Gina pushed her food around her plate for the third time that evening, the spoon barely lifting past the rim of her bowl. The dining hall bustled with the usual soft chatter of the ladies-in-waiting, but Gina sat stiff and silent, her shoulders tense, her eyes distant.
Mirha's heart clenched.
Ever since Misha Tiavan had arrived, Gina had been different. It wasn't obvious—anyone else might have thought nothing had changed—but Mirha noticed. She always noticed.
Gina wasn't as talkative, her usual witty remarks now replaced by carefully measured words. She didn't linger in the gardens or enjoy long conversations anymore. And the worst part? She wasn't eating.
Mirha glanced at the untouched rice and simmered vegetables in Gina's bowl before speaking gently. "You should eat."
Gina blinked as if she'd forgotten the food was there. "I will."
But she didn't.
Mirha hesitated, then leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. "Gina… is something wrong?"
Gina straightened. "Of course not."
Mirha frowned. "Are you sure?"
A pause. Then Gina exhaled through her nose and gave her a small smile—forced, practiced. "Mirha, don't worry so much."
Mirha did worry. She worried because she had seen the way Gina tensed when Misha spoke, the way her mother's saccharine words carried an edge no one else seemed to hear. She worried because Gina never argued with her mother, never voiced her own thoughts in Misha's presence.
And now, Gina looked exhausted.
"Since your mother arrived, you've barely been eating," Mirha said softly. "You haven't been yourself."
Gina's smile faltered for just a second before she straightened her posture, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. "I'm fine."
Mirha didn't believe her.
A heavy silence hung between them until Gina finally sighed and set down her spoon. "I suppose I just haven't had much of an appetite."
"Or maybe it's because your mother is here," Mirha said before she could stop herself.
Gina's expression remained unreadable. "You're imagining things."
"I don't think I am." Mirha reached for her hand, hesitant but firm. "Gina, you can talk to me."
For a fleeting moment, something in Gina's eyes softened—something vulnerable, something weary. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by that same detached poise.
"There's nothing to talk about," she said smoothly, withdrawing her hand. "Really, Mirha. Don't worry."
Mirha didn't push further, but as Gina returned to moving her food around without taking a bite, the unease in her chest only grew.
Would Gina really be able to keep up this act forever?
Or would she eventually break?
The study doors swung open, and Emperor Arvin stepped inside, his presence as composed as ever. The faint scent of travel clung to him, a reminder that his visits to the Imperial Castle were becoming less frequent.
Rnzo barely glanced up from the document he was scanning. "You look worse than usual."
Arvin let out a tired exhale as he shrugged off his coat. "Long ride."
"And whose fault is that?" Rnzo smirked, motioning toward the bottle of wine on the desk. "You decided to exile yourself in Malaka."
Arvin ignored the jab, pouring himself a drink instead. "Nailah's condition. I can't leave her alone for long."
For once, Rnzo didn't tease. He simply nodded, acknowledging the weight of Arvin's words. "How is she?"
"She's well," Arvin said, his voice softer now. "But she prefers Malaka over the Imperial Castle—less pressure, fewer eyes watching her every move. So I stay."
Rnzo leaned back in his chair, studying him. "And yet, you came today."
Arvin took a sip of his drink before answering. "I had business to attend to. Figured I'd check in while I was here."
Rnzo's smirk returned. "Convenient timing, then."
Arvin raised a brow. "For what?"
Rnzo's smirk widened. "The match, of course."
Arvin frowned. "What match?"
"You mean you haven't heard?" Rnzo feigned surprise. "I thought word of my plans traveled faster."
Arvin's patience thinned. "Rnzo."
Rnzo chuckled, finally setting the document aside. "I'm playing a match against Gina."
Arvin stared at him, waiting for him to continue. When Rnzo didn't, Arvin exhaled sharply. "And why exactly are you playing a match against Gina?"
Rnzo's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Because she challenged me."
Arvin wasn't convinced. "And why would she do that?"
Rnzo tilted his head slightly, as if debating whether to share the truth. Then, with a smirk, he admitted, "Because I gave her no other way out."
Arvin set down his glass with a quiet clink. "You're playing games again."
Rnzo's smirk didn't fade. "Always."
Arvin shook his head, rubbing his temple. "You don't take anything seriously, do you?"
"Oh, I take this very seriously." Rnzo leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. "She thinks she can outrun me. I'm simply proving she can't."
Arvin exhaled slowly, considering his cousin carefully. "And if she wins?"
"She won't."
Arvin didn't look convinced. "And if she does?"
For a moment, Rnzo's smirk faltered—just slightly—but it was enough. He hadn't truly considered that possibility.
Then, as if shaking the thought away, he chuckled. "Then I suppose I'll have to rethink my approach."
Arvin sighed, standing up. "Just don't turn this into a mess."
"No promises."
Arvin gave him a dry look before heading toward the door. "I'll be watching."
Rnzo grinned. "I'd be offended if you didn't."
As Arvin left the study, he couldn't shake the feeling that this match meant more than Rnzo was letting on. And something told him—whether Rnzo won or lost—things wouldn't be the same afterward
Gina sat in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection but seeing nothing at all. Her hands rested in her lap, fingers lightly interlocked, but her heart was anything but steady. The past few days had been exhausting, and with her mother lingering like a storm cloud over her, there had been no room to breathe.
Now, as she finally managed a quiet moment, a knock at the door shattered the illusion of peace.
"My lady." A servant bowed as he stepped inside. "Duke Rnzo has arrived. He is waiting for you."
Her stomach tightened. She had known this moment was coming—she had even agreed to it—but hearing the words out loud made it feel far too real.
She nodded, composing herself. "Where is he?"
"The courtyard, my lady. The match is ready to begin."
There was no turning back now.
With a final glance at her reflection—at the woman who was about to walk into a game she hadn't meant to play—Gina straightened her shoulders.
"Let's not keep him waiting."
As she stepped out of her chambers, the weight of what was coming settled onto her shoulders. No matter the outcome, she knew one thing for certain—everything was about to change.
The courtyard was buzzing with quiet anticipation. A table had been placed in the center, adorned with an elegant chessboard, its polished black and white pieces waiting to be moved. The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the space, the shadows of the garden flickering like silent spectators.
Gina stepped forward, her expression composed despite the storm raging inside her. Rnzo was already there, lounging in his chair with an ease that was entirely his own, a confident smirk playing at his lips. His sharp eyes lifted as she approached, filled with amusement, but beneath that, there was something more—something unreadable.
"You took your time," he mused, watching as she settled into the seat opposite him.
She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze evenly. "I see no reason to rush when victory is inevitable."
Rnzo chuckled, leaning forward. "Bold words, Gina. Let's see if you can back them up."
A servant stepped forward, setting a small hourglass beside the board. With a nod from Arvin—who stood nearby, curious about this entire arrangement—the game began.
Gina had played against many skilled opponents before, but Rnzo was unlike them. He was aggressive yet composed, making each move with the confidence of someone who never doubted the outcome.
For the first few turns, she held her ground, anticipating his strategies and countering them. But then he shifted—his strategy became unpredictable, forcing her into defensive play.
The game ended swiftly after that.
"Checkmate." Rnzo sat back, his smirk deepening as he tilted his head. "You were good, but not good enough."
Gina inhaled slowly, her fingers lingering on the fallen king. She expected him to gloat, but instead, there was a flicker of genuine admiration in his expression.
"You play differently than I expected," he admitted.
She met his gaze, determination burning in her eyes. "Let's play again."
This time, Gina didn't just defend—she attacked.
Rnzo's brows lifted slightly as she set an aggressive pace, disrupting his rhythm. He adjusted, but she was relentless, forcing him into a corner he couldn't escape from.
When she moved her knight into position, she didn't even have to say it—he saw the inevitable.
Rnzo exhaled sharply, then let out a low chuckle. "You're full of surprises."
She merely tilted her head. "One more round, Duke."
The third game was the most intense yet. Every move was deliberate, calculated, a battle of minds unfolding in complete silence.
Gina could feel victory within her grasp—one more move, and it would be over.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother.
Misha Tiavan stood with her hands neatly folded, but her face betrayed her true feelings. The pleasant facade had cracked, revealing something dark, something terrifyingly real. Gina was surprised to see that she had no care for anyone who saw her like that...No this time Misha would lose it and Gina knew if that were to happen, Noone can save her....
There was no approval in her gaze. Only cold warning, slowly Gina's mind and body started to weaken, she should just end it. Yes if Rnzo won it would stop all this drama.
Gina's fingers hovered over her queen. One move. Just one move.
Then, slowly, she reached for a different piece instead.
The moment she placed it down, Rnzo stilled. His sharp eyes flickered up to her face, instantly recognizing what she had done.
She had thrown the game.
Rnzo didn't say a word as he made his move. "Checkmate."
A murmur rippled through the audience, but Gina barely heard it. Her pulse roared in her ears, her stomach tightening painfully, her heartbeat was too loud it was painful.
Then, Rnzo leaned back, turning his attention away from the board.
His gaze landed directly on Misha, who had resumed her mask of pleasantries. He smiled, but there was a knowing edge to it.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Misha," he said smoothly. "I assume you must be Gina's mother?"
Misha's brows lifted, and she placed a hand over her chest in feigned surprise. "Oh? You know of me? I'm honoured your grace ."
Rnzo inclined his head. "Of course. After all, I am her fiancé."
Silence.
Gina's breath caught in her throat. Misha's expression shifted, her eyes widening in delighted surprise. The mask slipped back into place, this time with a genuine glow of satisfaction.
"Well," she breathed, clasping her hands together. "How wonderful! I had been waiting for an engagement announcement, and here you are, giving me the best news of all."
Gina felt the walls closing in around her. Her vision swayed, and before she could even think, her body gave in to the overwhelming weight of it all.
The last thing she saw was Rnzo rising from his seat coming towards her