73 - Favorites
The music did not end. That was Mariana’s first, most immediate realization. It should have. By all reasonable standards, by every social cue she had learned—even from this world—the waltz had already gone on far too long.
Long enough for whispers to ripple through the hall. Long enough for nobles to begin exchanging knowing glances behind jeweled fans. Long enough for her feet to ache and her patience to wear dangerously thin.
And yet, the melody continued. Slow. Elegant. Unrelenting. Mariana forced a smile, though it was beginning to strain at the edges. Her hand rested lightly in Zafiel’s, her other placed against his shoulder, her posture flawless—perfectly trained, perfectly noble. Internally? She was dying.
Why is this still going…?!
Her thoughts screamed in quiet desperation as she followed his lead, step after step, turn after turn. The hall blurred slightly around her—golden chandeliers, glittering gowns, polished marble—all fading into the background of one overwhelming truth:
She was trapped in this dance. Her eyes flicked upward, just briefly. Zafiel was smiling. Not widely. Not mockingly. Just… softly. And that somehow made it worse.
“A-Are we not done yet...?” She whispered under her breath, her tone polite enough for anyone listening—but laced with exhaustion only he would catch.
His gaze softened just slightly. “Not yet.”
Mariana’s eye twitched almost imperceptibly.
Of course not.
She inhaled slowly, steadying herself. “This is… unusually long for a waltz, Your Imperial Highness.”
“I know.”
“That’s not something to be proud of…”
“I’m not.” His voice remained calm. “I simply don’t want it to end yet.”
Her steps faltered—just for a fraction of a second—before she corrected herself.
Unfair…!
Her grip tightened slightly against his shoulder.
He says things like that so casually…!
Zafiel’s gaze lingered on her face, catching every subtle reaction, every flicker of emotion she tried—and failed—to hide. Then, as if nothing had happened, he spoke again. “I’ll take you around Luxor.”
Mariana blinked. “What...?”
“A proper tour.” He continued, tone light, almost conversational. “So you won’t have to sneak out again.”
Her entire body froze mid-step. Sneak out. Her brain instantly replayed that day. The maid uniform. The crowded streets. The library. And her face exploded in heat.
Nope, absolutely not...!
“W-We are not talking about that...” She muttered quickly, her voice dropping in embarrassment.
Zafiel’s lips curved slightly. “Why not?”
“Because we’re not…! Ju-Just because...!” She huffed softly. “And I don’t need a tour.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You nearly got lost.”
“I did not get lost...!”
“You did.”
“I was exploring…!” She shot back defensively.
He didn’t argue further. Instead, “I know all the good places.”
Mariana paused. “… what?”
“The sweet shops.” He said simply. “The ones that make the best chocolate pastries.” A beat. “And the bookshops, the quieter ones.”
Her heart betrayed her again. Her gaze flickered, just slightly.
Bookshops… Sweets…
He noticed. Of course he did. “You’d like them.” He added softly.
Mariana looked away quickly, trying to regain control of herself.
Ugh, I don’t want to go… but I do want to go....
Her thoughts clashed violently. Because this wasn’t just temptation. It was targeted. Precisely aimed at everything she loved.
“I-I’m busy...” She said weakly.
“You’re not.”
“I am.”
“You’re not.” He repeated calmly.
She bit her lip slightly. “… I shouldn’t…”
“You can.”
“I don’t want to…”
“You do.”
Silence. Her steps slowed slightly. Because the worst part? He was right.
“… fine.” She muttered under her breath. “Just once.”
Zafiel’s smile deepened—subtly, but unmistakably. “Tomorrow.”
Mariana’s head snapped up. “Wha-What...?"
“Tomorrow.” He repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Her brain short-circuited. “Tha-That’s too soon…!” she protested. “I need to... p-prepare, and... plan... and—”
“You don’t.”
“I do…!”
“You don’t.” He said again, gently cutting her off.
And just like that, no room to argue. No room to delay. No room to escape. Mariana stared at him, stunned.
This man…!
Before she could even gather a proper rebuttal—
“You should take a break.” He added.
“What...?”
“At the banquet table.” He continued. “I had them prepare your favorites.”
Her brows furrowed. “My… favorites...?”
Zafiel nodded slightly. “You haven’t eaten properly.”
“Tha-That’s because someone dragged me into an endless waltz—”
“You’re free now.”
Before she could process it, he dipped her. Smooth. Effortless. Final. The music ended. Applause followed. And just like that, the dance was over.
Zafiel straightened, his hand still lightly holding hers for a brief moment longer than necessary. Then, he smiled. “I’ll see you later.” And he let go. Just like that.
Mariana stood there, frozen for a second. Then, “… sweets.”
Her eyes lit up. As if possessed. As if every ounce of dignity she had painstakingly maintained throughout the evening vanished in an instant. She turned and grabbed the nearest person. “Brother, come with me!”
Grand Prince Aguerico blinked, completely caught off guard. “Wha—?” Too late. She was already dragging him across the hall. “Oi—! Wait...!” He protested, stumbling slightly as she pulled him along.
Ignoring the stares. Ignoring the whispers. Ignoring everything. Mariana marched straight toward the banquet table.
Moments later, peace. Pure, blissful peace.
Mariana sat at the table, happily munching on a chocolate pastry, her eyes practically sparkling. “This is so good…” She muttered, completely absorbed.
Aguerico sat beside her, arms crossed, watching with mild disbelief. “You just got dragged into the longest dance of the night,” he said flatly. “And this is your reaction?”
Mariana didn’t even look at him. “Food is healing.”
“That’s not how that works.”
“It works for me.”
She reached for another sweet. Then another. Completely lost in her own world. For a brief moment, everything else faded away. No politics. No Crown Prince. No overwhelming pressure. Just sweets.
“This is... heaven…” She whispered.
Aguerico sighed, rubbing his temples. “You’re unbelievable.”
Then, she froze mid-bite. Her hand slowly lowered. Her expression shifted. “… wait...”
Aguerico glanced at her. “What now?”
Mariana’s brows furrowed slightly. Her mind began to piece things together slowly. Carefully. Dangerously.
“My… favorites…”
She had never told anyone. Not her family. Not the staff. Not even by accident. Because the original Mariana didn’t like sweets. That was a known fact. A defining trait.
And yet, everything here. Every single thing on this table. Chocolate pastries. Light fruit tarts. Soft cream-filled confections. Exactly what she liked.
Her grip tightened slightly. “… how…” Her eyes lifted unconsciously across the hall. To him.
Zafiel stood near the Empress, engaged in conversation. Calm. Composed. Perfect. And yet, his gaze shifted. Just slightly. Meeting hers. And in that moment, he smiled. Soft. Knowing. Her breath caught. Her cheeks flushed.
“… how do you know…?” She whispered faintly.
Because this wasn’t coincidence. This wasn’t guesswork. This was intentional. Precise and deeply unsettling. Her fingers curled slightly against the table. Her heart began to race again.
Because somehow, without her noticing, without her understanding, he had learned her.
Not the “Mariana” everyone knew but her. And that realization? That was far more dangerous than anything else.