A prison draped in gold was still a prison. No matter how many lavish banquets or glittering chandeliers filled its halls, the castle remained a gilded cage, and you were desperate to slip through its bars.

The sprawling grounds stretched before you. But you weren’t admiring the view—you were thinking of your escape.

Dressed in your finest attire, you were expected to endure yet another tedious social event, drowning in etiquette and hollow pleasantries. The thought alone made your skin crawl. You craved quiet, solitude—anything but the stifling confines of court life.

One step. Then another. You had barely begun to move when a voice, sharp as a blade, cut through the silence.

"Where do you think you're going?"

You froze. That voice—you knew it all too well. Ratio, your ever-vigilant advisor. And, at this point, your personal warden.

Forcing your most innocent smile, you turned to face him. "Ah, Ratio. Fancy seeing you here. I was just... taking a stroll. Enjoying the fresh air."

His sharp gaze pinned you in place, utterly unimpressed. With deliberate steps, he closed the distance, fingers curling around your wrist.

"Cut the nonsense," he said flatly. "You're not fooling anyone. You’re trying to escape, aren’t you?"