34 - Panic
For a few seconds after the whisper, Mariana simply stood there. Completely still. The room buzzed with excited whispers around her, but the sound felt distant—like she was hearing it through water.
Her mind repeated one word—Iana. The name echoed violently in her skull. Her throat felt dry. Her hands trembled slightly at her sides.
How does he know that?
Her gaze slowly lifted toward Zafiel. He was already stepping back, as though nothing unusual had happened. His posture relaxed. His expression calm. Almost bored. Like a man who had merely adjusted a dress strap.
The noblewomen were practically vibrating with excitement. “Did you see that?!”
“The Crown Prince fixed her dress!”
“They look so close!”
Mariana heard none of it.Her thoughts were racing too fast.
There are only two possibilities. Either he knows. Or… he heard.
Her stomach dropped. Both options were terrifying. Her feet suddenly moved. Without thinking, Mariana walked forward. One step. Two. Three. Her movements looked calm. Elegant. Perfectly noble.
But inside her head—
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
She stopped beside the velvet sofa where her mother stood. Grand Duchess Darelene immediately noticed something was wrong. Mariana’s face had gone pale. Her hands were shaking.
“Mariana?” Darelene said softly.
Mariana blinked slowly, as though waking from a dream. Then she bowed her head slightly. “Mother… excuse me.” Her voice sounded strangely hollow. “I need to visit the restroom.”
Darelene frowned slightly. “You feel unwell?”
“No,” Mariana said quickly. Too quickly. “I will return shortly.”
She didn’t wait for further questions. Mariana turned and walked toward the back hallway where the modiste’s private rooms were located. Every step felt unreal.
Behind her, the shop slowly resumed breathing.
The noblewomen whispered again. But Grand Duchess Darelene was not paying attention to them. Her sharp gaze moved slowly toward Zafiel. The Crown Prince had already returned to the seating area.
He sat down comfortably. And picked up another sweet. Darelene’s eyes narrowed. Something had happened. She knew her daughter well enough to see it.
Mariana had looked… shaken. Not embarrassed. Not flustered. Shaken. Which meant Zafiel had said something. Darelene stepped closer. “Your Imperial Highness.”
Zafiel hummed lightly while examining a small pastry. “Yes, Grand Duchess?”
Her voice remained perfectly polite. But there was steel beneath it now. “What exactly did you say to my daughter?”
The surrounding noblewomen immediately fell silent again. The question was direct. Almost confrontational.
Zafiel glanced up. His amethyst eyes met hers calmly. Then he smiled. “Nothing particularly important.” He took a bite of the pastry.
Darelene did not blink. “Is that so?”
“Mhm.” Zafiel swallowed leisurely. “I simply complimented her.”
Darelene’s gaze sharpened. “Complimented.”
“Yes.” He leaned back comfortably in the velvet chair. “She seemed nervous. I thought it polite to reassure her.”
The explanation sounded harmless. Too harmless. Darelene studied him carefully. The Crown Prince was many things. Brilliant. Dangerous. Unpredictable. But never careless with his words.
Which meant, he was hiding something. Her fingers tightened slightly against the catalogue she still held. But she did not press further. Not here. Not in a public shop full of watching nobles. Instead, she inclined her head. “I see.”
Zafiel smiled pleasantly and reached for another sweet. The conversation ended. But the suspicion did not.
—
Meanwhile—
At the back of the modiste. Mariana burst into the restroom. The moment the door closed behind her, she grabbed the edge of the marble sink.
Her breathing was uneven. “Okay.” She stared at her reflection. Golden hair. Golden eyes. The elegant face of Grand Princess Mariana. But right now she looked like someone who had just seen a ghost. “Okay.”
Her voice trembled. She turned the faucet. Cold water rushed into the basin.
Mariana cupped her hands and splashed it onto her face. Once. Twice. Three times. The cool water shocked her skin. Her breathing slowly steadied. She leaned forward slightly, gripping the sink.
Think. Think. Think.
Her mind raced through possibilities.
Option one, coincidence. Impossible. No one in this world knows that name. Option two, he heard it somehow. Also impossible. I never said it out loud. Not once. Option three—
Her heart pounded.
He knows.
Mariana closed her eyes.
No, that’s ridiculous. Right? There’s no way he knows about reincarnation. Unless…
Her mind drifted back to the moment. His voice. His expression. The way his eyes had looked at her. Knowing. Like he had been watching her carefully for a long time.
Mariana slowly raised her head. Her reflection stared back at her. “What are you?” she whispered. But the question wasn’t directed at herself. It was directed at him. The Crown Prince.
Because if he truly knew that name. Then Zafiel Abaddon Morrigan von Clematis was far more dangerous than she had ever imagined. Mariana took another deep breath.
Calm down, panicking won’t help.
She splashed water onto her face one last time. Then straightened. Her reflection looked slightly better now. Still pale. But composed. She wiped her hands with a towel.
Think carefully. If he really knows something, then I need to be careful. Very careful.
Because whatever game the Crown Prince was playing, she had just become part of it.