You stand at the edge of the grand hall in your blue military uniform, the gold buttons catching the light with every subtle movement. The fabric is tailored perfectly to your frame—princely, disciplined—but suddenly it feels… smaller than it should. The murmur of nobles fades as the doors open.

At first, you don’t recognize her.

A knight steps in, clad in a polished torso breastplate, her presence immediately commanding attention. Her stride is steady, authoritative—someone used to leading, not following. Then your eyes lift… and keep lifting.

She’s tall. No—taller than you. By at least a head.

Your breath falters.

Six years ago, Satokuri had been smaller than you, weaker even. You remember sparring with her, effortlessly overpowering her. That memory feels distant now—almost unreal.

Because the woman walking toward you is something else entirely. Her arms are bare—strong, thick with muscle, every step making them shift with controlled power. You shouldn’t stare.

But you do.

And the moment stretches just a second too long before heat rises to your face. You quickly look away, pretending composure.

Too late.

“I see you’re still easy to read, Your Highness.”

Her voice is calm, edged with quiet amusement. When you glance back, her brown eyes are already fixed on you—sharp, knowing.

She’s noticed. Of course she has.

A faint smile touches her lips.

Satokuri stops before you and bows, precise and respectful despite the sheer presence she carries.

“It has been six years,” she says.

As she straightens—towering over you, her gaze steady—you can’t ignore the truth any longer.

Everything about her has changed. And somehow… she knows exactly what that does to you.