Luna stared at the ceiling of her new private room, counting the geometric shapes for the umpteenth time that night.

4356...

Always 4356.

No matter how many times she counted them, hoping the number would magically change and give her something new to focus on, something that would distract her mind from the constant whirlpool of thoughts that wouldn't let her sleep.

The patterns never changed.

Her enormous wolf was curled on one side of the bed, his presence a silent comfort. Occasionally, the beast would turn his head to look at her with those eyes that seemed to understand too much.

Too much about her pain. Too much about her choices.

"I know," Luna whispered to the darkness, her voice barely audible even in the quiet room. "I'm a coward."

The wolf made a low sound in his throat.

Not disagreement. It was... understanding, maybe. Or pity.

Luna wasn't sure which was worse.

She sat up in bed, hugging her knees against her chest. A childish position…

Vulnerable. The kind of posture she'd never allow anyone else to see.

But here, in the darkness of her self-imposed solitary room, she could allow herself to be small.

Could allow herself to be weak.

Could strip away all the masks and armor and just... hurt.

Her eyes drifted toward her desk drawer. The third from the top. Locked, though the key was unnecessary when she could simply use her mana to take what was inside from the shadows.

But there was something about the ritual of the key. Something about the deliberate act of unlocking, of choosing to see, that made the difference between an impulse and a decision.

Between losing control and maintaining it, however tenuously.

She shouldn't open it.

She'd already looked inside too many times today. Three times during the day. Two more after dinner. And now, in the depth of night, she felt the urge again.

Like an addiction.

Like scratching a wound that never healed. That kept tearing open, bleeding fresh every time she touched it.

She rose from the bed. Her bare feet made no sound on the cold stone floor as she approached the desk. The wolf followed her with its gaze, its expression carrying something that might have been concern if beasts could truly feel such things.

Or maybe they could. Maybe her wolf understood her better than any person did right now.

The key was hidden behind a book on noble protocols that she never read. Ironic, considering her entire life lately had been reduced to protocols.

Protocols of courtesy.

Protocols of study.

Protocols of how to maintain distance from the people you love most without them realizing you're tearing yourself apart from the inside.

The drawer opened with a soft click.

And there it was.

The small portrait.

Barely the size of her palm. The kind of miniature some nobles carried as personal tokens, reminders of loved ones during long journeys.

Luna lifted it with hands that trembled slightly, fingers brushing the smooth surface like touching something sacred. Something fragile that might shatter if held too tightly.

The woman in the portrait smiled while hugging a younger Luna and a Light Cat. It wasn't a big, exaggerated smile. Not the political smile Luna had learned to perfect. It was small, warm, the kind of smile that reached the eyes and made them shine with joy.

Real happiness. The kind Luna barely remembered feeling anymore.

She had dark blue hair, almost black in certain lights. The same eyes Luna saw in the mirror every morning. The same jawline, the same nose shape.

But there was something else. Something in the expression that Luna had never been able to replicate no matter how many times she tried.

Peace.

Her mother had peace.

True peace. The kind that came from deep within, from accepting yourself and your place in the world. From being loved and knowing it completely.

Before everything fell apart.

Before happiness became a luxury the Starweaver family couldn't afford.

Luna closed her eyes, pressing the portrait against her chest. Her wolf moved its head closer, pressing his enormous nose against her leg, offering mute comfort that somehow meant more than any words could have.

"Mom," she whispered to the empty room, her voice cracking on the word. "Tell me I'm doing the right thing."

Of course there was no answer.

Portraits didn't respond, no matter how much you begged. No matter how desperately you needed guidance from someone who couldn't give it anymore.

But sometimes, in her weakest moments, Luna could swear she felt something in the mana. A warmth. A presence. Something that told her she wasn't completely alone.

That somewhere, somehow, her mother was still watching. Still caring.

Probably it was just her imagination.

Probably…

She returned the portrait, closing the drawer with more force than necessary. The sound echoed in the silent room like thunder… Like finality.

And then, because she was a masochist and apparently hadn't learned anything about mental self-preservation, Luna approached her closet.

At the back, hidden behind academy uniforms and formal dresses she rarely wore, there was a small box.

This one didn't have a lock.

Didn't need one.

Because Luna opened it even more frequently than the drawer with the portrait.

Because the addiction to this particular pain was stronger. More immediate. More relevant to her present suffering.

Inside were letters.

All written with the same elegant calligraphy. The kind taught to noble children from birth, every loop and curve perfectly formed. Beautiful handwriting hiding ugly purposes.

All signed with the same name.

Lord Orion Starweaver.

Luna took the most recent one.

She unfolded it, though she'd already memorized every word. Could recite it in her sleep, had recited it in her nightmares.

Luna,

I've spoken again with Magnus and Dorian. We're in agreement: the offer still stands. The price hasn't changed. If you accept our terms before the end of the year, you'll have what you seek.

Luna's jaw clenched. The words were so simple, so transactional. As if they were discussing property deeds instead of her future… Her freedom.

Her heart.

I know this is difficult for you because of what Sirius taught you. I know you don't trust us, and I admit our family relationship has been... tense. But in this matter, our interests align. You want to have that weapon in your hands to embrace it. We want to secure the Starweaver family's future by unifying the territories.

We can let you use it on the frontlines and 'hug' it as much as you want...

The words should have been comforting. Should have represented compromise, a meeting in the middle…. Instead, they felt like chains. Like a leash just long enough to let her think she had freedom while keeping her firmly under control.

It's a fair exchange.

Was it? Was anything about this fair?

The handsome Seiya, young Jin, and even the young Goldcrest have confirmed their part. We took care to give you options so you can get the choice that suits you best... Whoever you choose is ready to proceed when you are. We only need your final confirmation.

Time is running out, niece. The first exams are approaching. And after that, negotiations will become... more complicated. Other factors will come into play. Other interests will get involved.

Think carefully.

Your uncle,

Orion

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