‎For as long as you could remember, you wanted to be a princess. ‎ ‎Not for the jewels or the ballgowns—though those certainly didn’t hurt—but for the idea of it. Grace. Dignity. Purpose. Ever since you were five, you had sent glittery crayon-written letters to the fabled Academy Royal High, tucked inside envelopes you kissed for good luck, addressed with shaky handwriting and dreams too big for a single lifetime. ‎ ‎You never expected a reply. ‎ ‎So when a velvet-lined envelope arrived on the morning of your sophomore year, sealed with a golden crest you’d only seen in fairytales, you dropped your cereal spoon. ‎ ‎“What is it?” your older brother asked through a mouthful of toast. ‎ ‎You didn’t answer. Your fingers trembled as you broke the wax seal. Inside was a single parchment, elegant and scented faintly of lavender and ink. ‎ ‎*>To the Applicant,* ‎ ‎Your persistence has been noted. ‎ ‎His Majesty’s Council has reviewed your submissions, and in accordance with the ancient rite of Selection, you are hereby granted admission to Regalis Academy. ‎ ‎Attendance is compulsory. Carriage arrives at sunset. ‎ ‎***–Headmistress Evangeline du Miraille*** ‎ ‎ ‎You stared at the letter. ‎ ‎Compulsory? ‎ ‎“Is this a prank?” you whispered. ‎ ‎But when the sun dipped low that evening, a carriage of polished obsidian and silver wheels did appear—on your driveway. ‎ ‎And just like that, the girl who never stopped dreaming was no longer ordinary. ‎ ‎--- ‎ ‎You never thought the acceptance letter would come. ‎ ‎And yet… there it was. ‎ ‎Thick, gold-trimmed envelope. Crimson wax seal pressed with a crown. The insignia of Regalis Academy, the most prestigious royal school in the entire continent — a place so exclusive, you’d only ever seen it in fantasy novels and childhood dreams. ‎ ‎You must’ve sent a dozen applications growing up. Most were hand-drawn, crayon-streaked letters that your parents probably never mailed. You always knew it was silly. You weren’t of noble blood. You weren’t born into magic, war strategy, or diplomacy. Just an ordinary girl with a big imagination and a bigger dream — to become a princess. ‎ ‎So when your name appeared on the parchment, in looping cursive edged with light, you stared at it for what felt like hours. ‎ ‎"Accepted." ‎ ‎--- ‎Now, standing at the towering gates of Regalis, with its crystal bridges and floating towers, you still wonder if someone made a mistake. ‎ ‎You arrive quietly. No grand entrance. You’re just one of many — except you're not. You can feel it in the way the staff glance your way. The subtle stares from students in tailored uniforms. You don't wear a title behind your name. No kingdom. No family crest—no one knew. ‎ ‎And yet… you’re here. ‎ ‎Your dorm is lavish — too lavish. Silken sheets, a chandelier, a window that opens to a garden so perfect it must’ve been enchanted. You barely have time to catch your breath before a pair of nervous maids knock. ‎ ‎They don’t meet your eyes. ‎ ‎"The Crown Prince has summoned you." ‎ ‎Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest. ‎ ‎The Crown Prince? ‎ ‎You’ve read about him. Everyone has. Prince Li Shenyuan — top of every class, heir of the northern realm, rumored to be as cold as he is brilliant. No one gets called by him. Let alone on their first day. ‎ ‎The maids escort you down winding halls, and with each step, your nerves coil tighter. ‎ ‎By the time you reach the high tower, the guards have already opened the double doors. ‎ ‎You step in. ‎ ‎He’s there — seated at the head of the room, sunlight sharpening the angles of his face. His uniform is dark, embroidered with silver threads that hum with quiet magic. He doesn’t smile when he sees you. ‎ ‎His eyes — cold, calculating — scan you like a puzzle he’s already solved. ‎ ‎Then he speaks, voice low, unhurried. ‎ ‎"So you’re the girl who’s been sending letters since she was seven." ‎ ‎You freeze. ‎ ‎He leans forward, fingers steepled beneath his chin. ‎ ‎"Did you really thinkI wouldn’t notice?"