Chapter 102: Royal Masquarede
Most people looked at her with ill intent—whether out of ambition, politics, or something else entirely. It made sense, he supposed. A princess wasn’t just a person; she was a symbol, a prize, a stepping stone for those seeking power. He had never cared much for nobility or their tangled games, but the way she spoke of it, so matter-of-factly, made it sound... exhausting. Like being caught in an endless performance where every move was scrutinized, and every word was weighed for its consequences.
That kind of life sounded utterly tiresome.
He frowned slightly, leaning back against the wall. For all the privilege that came with her status, it appears that freedom wasn’t part of the bargain. Not really. Always being watched, always being expected to act a certain way, always having to filter every interaction through layers of caution—he couldn’t imagine living like that. His own life had been chaotic, sure, but at least his choices had always been his own, even when they led him into trouble most of the time.
He flickered his gaze back to Solenne, who was still watching the hall with an unreadable expression. There was a certain weariness to her posture, hidden beneath the practiced grace she carried. It wasn’t the kind of exhaustion that came from a lack of sleep—it was deeper, the kind that settled into one’s bones after years of enduring something inescapable.
Velren exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms. He had always assumed royalty lived in a world of luxury and indulgence, free from the struggles of ordinary people. But maybe their cages just looked different.
For a moment, he wondered—if it were him, would he be able to handle it? Would he last a day in her position, where trust was a currency few could afford to spend?
He immediately chuckled at the thought.
’...Probably not.’
Before he could say anything else to her, a voice cut through the ambient murmur of the hall, catching the two’s attention.
"Solenne, there you are."
Velren turned toward the source and immediately took note of the man approaching them. He appeared to be in his early thirties, tall and composed, with an air of effortless confidence that came from years of refinement. His dark hair was neatly combed back, revealing striking golden eyes that held a quiet intensity. Unlike most nobles in the room, whose finery leaned toward opulence, his attire was somehow... understated—an elegant black and gold ensemble, tailored to perfection, yet lacking any excess embellishment.