89 - Type
Mariana’s mind screamed.
Snap out of it. Snap out of it. SNAP OUT OF IT. What are you doing?!
Her heart was racing far too fast for comfort, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths as she stared into those amethyst eyes that seemed to swallow everything whole. There was something wrong with this—deeply, fundamentally wrong—and yet…
Her thoughts stuttered.
… he’s exactly my type.
Her brain short-circuited.
NO—!!
Her mental voice screeched so loudly she almost flinched physically.
Are you serious right now?! THIS is what you’re thinking?! At a time like this?!
She mentally grabbed herself by the shoulders—figuratively—and shook hard.
Get it together! He’s dangerous! Suspicious! Probably insane!
And yet… tall. Composed. Sharp features. That quiet intensity. That voice—low, controlled, deliberate. And those eyes—
STOP IT.
Mariana squeezed her eyes shut for half a second, as if physically trying to eject the thoughts from her brain. When she opened them again, she inhaled sharply and shook her head lightly.
Clear it. Clear it. Clear it.
The small, almost frantic motion didn’t go unnoticed.
A soft chuckle escaped Zafiel. “Adorable.” He murmured.
Mariana stiffened instantly. “I am NOT—” she hissed under her breath, only to be cut off as he smoothly guided her into another turn.
The waltz continued. Effortless. Seamless.
Every step he took was precise, controlled. Every movement of his hand against her waist was firm but refined, guiding her like she weighed nothing at all. And Mariana—despite everything—found herself following.
Because he led perfectly which was infuriating.
Focus. Focus on something else.
“You have questions.” Zafiel spoke again, voice low enough that only she could hear, “You can ask me anything.”
Mariana blinked. Her thoughts immediately flooded. Questions. So many questions.
Why did you say “welcome” to me that day like you already knew me? How do you know what sweets I like? Why do you look at me like that? Why do you act like I belong to you? Why do you want me here? Why does it feel like you’ve been waiting for me?
Her lips parted slightly. But none of those questions came out. Because something stopped her. Instinct. Fear. Or maybe… the answer.
Instead, she asked something else. “D-Do you know Sadia?”
Zafiel didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”
Mariana’s eyes flickered slightly. “That’s it?”
“She is the daughter of Archduke Edinburgh.” He added calmly, spinning her once more before pulling her back into place.
“… that’s not what I meant.” Mariana muttered.
Zafiel glanced at her briefly, amused.
She hesitated for a moment. Then, “Do you think she’s pretty?” A strange question even to her own ears.
Zafiel’s expression didn’t change. “She is,” he said simply. “Conventionally.”
Mariana blinked.
Conventionally…?
“But,” he continued, voice dipping slightly, “she is not my type.”
Mariana froze. “The-Then what is?”
Zafiel didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he lifted her—suddenly, effortlessly—into a turn that made her dress flare slightly. Gasps sounded faintly around them, but Mariana barely registered it.
Because his voice came next. Close. Too close. “Golden blonde hair.”
Her breath hitched.
“Golden eyes.”
Everything stopped. Her body moved because he guided it. The dance continued because it had to. But her mind was blank.
He—no... no way. He can’t mean—
Her heartbeat slammed violently against her ribs. The music swelled. The world blurred. And no one noticed.
Because Zafiel held her perfectly, seamlessly, hiding every single crack in her composure behind flawless execution.
The final note played. The dance ended. And just as the applause began, Zafiel leaned in once more. “Run while you still can.”
Her eyes widened.
Wha—
Before she could process it, he stepped back. Gone like nothing happened.
Mariana stood there for half a second too long before instinct kicked in. She dipped into a graceful curtsy, masking the chaos inside her, then turned.
Walk. Don’t run. Walk.
She made her way straight to Sadia. “Sadia.” Her voice was low, urgent.
Sadia blinked. “What happened? You look like you just saw—”
“We need information.” Mariana cut in quietly.
Sadia’s expression sharpened instantly. “Okay.”
“Find someone,” Mariana continued, eyes scanning the room, “someone influential. Someone who knows everything. Gossip leader, rumor center—anything like that.”
Sadia nodded slowly. “Because the information guild isn’t showing up.”
“Exactly.”
They moved together, scanning the ballroom carefully. Nobles approached them, one by one.
“May I have this dance—”
“No, thank you.”
“I would be honored—”
“Perhaps another time.”
Politely. Elegantly. Rejected. Again. And again. Their eyes searched the room.
Then, “There.” Sadia murmured.
Mariana followed her gaze and paused. A woman stood across the room.
Black hair flowed like ink, cascading down her back in soft waves. Her eyes—deep, striking purple—held a quiet authority that seemed to pull attention without effort. She wore a royal purple gown that hugged her figure in a way that was both elegant and… dangerously alluring.
The air around her felt different. Nobles lingered near her. Not too close, but close enough. Watching. Listening. Following.
“She’s leading them.” Sadia whispered.
Mariana narrowed her eyes slightly. “She’s not just any noble.”
No, she wasn’t. There was something about her presence. Something… familiar. Not in a personal sense. But in a narrative sense.
“She feels important…” Mariana murmured.
Sadia tilted her head. “You recognize her?”
Mariana shook her head slowly. “… no.”
Which was the problem. If she were important in the original story, Mariana should have known her. But she didn’t.
“Maybe… a mob character?” Mariana suggested uncertainly.
Sadia raised a brow. “Does that look like a mob character to you?”
Mariana paused. “No...”
Not even close. That woman didn’t blend into the background. She commanded it.
Sadia’s lips slowly curved. “I think she’s like us.”
Mariana blinked. “What...?”
Sadia glanced at her, eyes gleaming slightly. “Isekai’d.”
Realization hit. Mariana’s eyes widened. “… oh.”
That explains it.
The presence. The disconnect. The unfamiliar importance.
Sadia smiled. “Let’s find out.”
Mariana nodded. Together, they approached step by step. Graceful. Controlled. Until they stood before her.
The woman’s gaze shifted to them instantly. Sharp. Knowing. Interesting.
Mariana spoke first. “Good evening.” She greeted politely. “I am Grand Princess Mariana Cherustine la Vernon.”
Sadia followed. “Archduchess Sadia Yulisius de Edinburgh.”
The woman studied them for a moment. Then, she smiled slowly. Intriguing. “… I’ve been expecting you.”
Mariana and Sadia both froze internally.
Expecting…?
The woman glanced around briefly before speaking again. “Shall we talk somewhere private?” No hesitation.
Mariana nodded. “Yes.”
Sadia agreed.
They moved away from the crowd, away from the noise until they reached a quiet corridor, far from prying ears.
The moment they were out of range, the woman turned to them fully and spoke. “My name,” she said calmly, “is Joana Albanya Seraphine Antonette.” A pause. “Daughter of Marquis Antonette.”
Silence fell. But this time, it wasn’t confusion. It was anticipation. Because something told both Mariana and Sadia. This woman was about to change everything.