The sun shone brightly over the imperial palace, casting a golden glow on the courtyard where two maids stood, chatting as they collected dried linens from the clothesline.

  "Are you really going to the West Wing?" one of the maids asked hesitantly, her voice laced with concern.

  The other, a young woman with dark eyes and grayish-blue hair that shimmered under the sunlight, nodded as she folded a sheet into the basket. "I don’t have a choice. They’ve assigned me to serve Her Highness Ravenna."

  The first maid frowned. "But why? She brought over a hundred maids with her when she left for Jola, didn’t she? Why didn’t she bring them back with her?"

  "Who knows?" the gray-haired maid sighed, lifting the heavy basket of linens. "I used to work in the West Wing before she was exiled. When she left, I was transferred here, but now that she's temporarily back, I’m expected to return as well."

  The other maid shuddered. "I heard she was ruthless. The other maids said she had them whipped for the smallest mistakes. I remember when the news spread that she was gone—everyone who served under her celebrated."

  The gray-haired maid hesitated for a moment before responding. "She was strict, yes, but…" she trailed off, adjusting the basket in her arms. "I survived three years of serving her. What’s another week?"

  The other maid’s eyes gleamed mischievously as she leaned in and bumped her friend’s shoulder. "Oh? Is that all? Or could it be that someone special is back with her as well?"

  The gray-haired maid, Katrina, turned red instantly. "W-What are you talking about?"

  The other maid smirked. "Oh, come on. Don’t play dumb! That handsome knight, Ser John, returned with her, didn’t he?"

  Just as she teased her, a familiar voice echoed through the corridor behind them.

  "Katrina!"

  The gray-haired maid stiffened, her heart skipping a beat. She knew that voice.

  She spun around so fast that the linens in her basket nearly tumbled out. "Ser John…?!"

  There he stood, Ser John, walking toward them with a small, uncertain smile. His armor gleamed under the palace lights, and his dark, wavy hair framed his sharp features.

  Katrina blinked, still in disbelief. "What…? What are you doing here, Ser John? Shouldn’t you be with Her Highness?"

  John stopped a few steps away, rubbing the back of his neck. "I… I just wanted to see you."

  Katrina’s grip tightened around the basket. "You—?"

  "I heard from the head maid that you were here, helping with the laundry," John continued, stepping closer. "So, I took a short break to visit."

  Katrina’s lips parted, but before she could say anything, the other maid giggled and quickly grabbed the basket from her arms. "I’ll take these back inside. You two have a lot to talk about."

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Wait, I—" Katrina started to protest, but her friend was already gone, leaving her standing alone with John in the sunlit corridor.

  An awkward silence settled between them.

  John finally cleared his throat. "Shall we take a walk in the sun?"

  Katrina hesitated for a moment before nodding.

  The two walked side by side through the palace courtyard, the warm rays of the afternoon sun making Katrina’s grayish-blue hair shimmer. She kept her gaze ahead, her heart pounding.

  "Ser John…" she began hesitantly.

  Before she could finish, John turned to her and cut her off with a single sentence.

  "I missed you, Katrina."

  Her steps faltered.

  She looked up at him, her face quickly turning red. "D-Don’t say that…!" she stammered. "I might fall for you again!"

  John smiled, though there was regret in his eyes.

  "You left without saying a word," Katrina continued, voice shaking slightly. "I told you—I didn’t care about hardship. I would have followed you to Jola if you had just asked! But instead, you—"

  "I apologize," John interrupted, his voice soft but firm.

  Katrina clenched her fists.

  John stepped in front of her, gently taking her hands in his own. "Please… forgive me," he said, looking into her eyes. "When we left for Jola, I didn’t know what the future held. I was afraid of dragging you into an uncertain life, so I thought it was better to cut ties rather than make promises I couldn’t keep."

  Katrina bit her lip. "But now…?"

  "Now," John said, tightening his grip on her hands, "I will talk to your parents."

  Katrina’s breath caught in her throat. "You… you mean—?"

  John nodded. "I will ask for your hand in marriage."

  Her face turned so red that she looked like she might burst.

  "You… You’re lying!" she accused.

  John chuckled. "Just like I promised you last summer at the Sun Festival… I will keep my word this time."

  Katrina’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

  John reached out, his calloused fingers brushing gently against her cheek. "And… to make up for leaving without a word for an entire year, after the wedding, I am your servant, my lady."

  Katrina swung her fist lightly against his chest. "You moron…!" Her voice trembled as she looked at him with frustration and relief. "Why did you make me wait so long?"

  John pulled her into a tight embrace.

  For the first time in a year, Katrina let herself believe in the future she had once dreamed of.

  After lingering in the courtyard, exchanging whispered words and quiet laughter, the two finally parted ways.

  John walked towards the exit, his heart lighter than it had been in a long time.

  But just as he neared the entrance, a familiar figure came walking toward him from the opposite direction.

  The man’s sharp gaze landed on him, and a voice—refined yet carrying an air of authority, rang out.

  "Ah, is that Ser John?"

  John immediately straightened and inclined his head in a respectful bow. "Duke Kevin Morgen."

  The duke, a tall man in his late forties with neatly combed gray hair and a presence that commanded attention, gave a satisfied nod. His dark blue cloak, embroidered with silver insignias of House Morgen, swayed slightly as he walked.

  "This saves me the trouble of sending a formal request," Duke Kevin said with a smirk. "I just arrived in the capital and was on my way to the administration department to request an audience with Her Highness Ravenna. But it seems that won't be necessary anymore."

  John immediately understood what he needed to do. John gave a polite smile. "I will inform Her Highness at once, Your Grace."

  Duke Kevin nodded in approval. "Good. Then let us not waste time."

  With that, John turned sharply on his heel and made his way toward Ravenna’s chambers, his pace quickening.

  Inside the grand chamber of the West Wing, Ravenna stood by her table, overlooking the capital’s map.

  She couldn't afford to make a reckless decision now.

  "What I need… is a second opinion."

  Her mind raced through the list of people she could turn to. "Who can I consult?" she murmured, biting her lower lip in frustration.

  Just then, a knock echoed through the room, pulling her out of her thoughts.

  "Your Highness," came John’s voice from the other side of the door. "An important guest requests an audience."