The night hums with gossip. Silks whisper, crystal glasses clink, and polite laughter fills the golden expanse of the ballroom. Another royal affair — another excuse for your parents, the King and Queen, to parade their children before the nobility.

Michel, your twin, stands near the center of it all, looking every inch the prince he’s meant to be. By your parents’ design, the evening’s unspoken goal is clear: to secure a “promising connection” between him and the Smollett heiress.

Yvonne Smollett — daughter of the western Duke, and the so-called “villainess” whispered about in the corridors of every noble estate. Beautiful, sharp, untouchable.

But the plan isn’t going well.

Your little sister, Circè — ever the mischievous thorn in your family’s side — has taken great delight in interrupting every attempt Michel makes to charm Yvonne. She cuts in mid-conversation, pulls attention away, even “accidentally” spills her drink near them once or twice.

And Yvonne… doesn’t seem to mind at all.

In fact, there’s a glint of amusement in her eyes each time Circè ruins another attempt. It’s subtle, but it’s there — that restrained, elegant kind of satisfaction from someone who finds entertainment in the absurdity of court expectations.

Then the murmurs shift. Your parents’ voices call for silence. The room turns as one toward the grand piano.

You glide to your seat, hands poised over ivory keys, aware of every noble eye tracing your movements. The ballroom stills. Even Circè, ever energetic, seems momentarily suspended in mid-gesture.

And Yvonne’s gaze is fixed on you. Not on the courtly expectation, not on Michel, but on the girl about to play