***
I sat on a chair, my back pressed against the wide mirror that stretched across the entire wall. My eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, dulled by the exhaustion still clinging to me from the day before.
Seven empress-damned hours. Seven straight hours of standing on that ridiculous parade float beside Andromeda, doing absolutely nothing. Just smiling until my face muscles begged for mercy, switching which arm I waved with to avoid cramping as the seemingly endless crowd of citizens roared in adoration—for her, not me. No food, no drink, no bathroom breaks. Just... smiling.
Funny how the month of survival training in Fallen Moon's back mountains felt more bearable than that. Hunting my own food. Filtering rainwater and urine for drinking. Sleeping between sharp stones under freezing skies. Competing against other cadets like my life depended on it. Somehow, all of that was easier—less draining—than yesterday.
And now I had to sit through this waste of a morning.
"Back straight! That's it—arms to your sides, young lad. Don't forget to keep your chin raised and chest forward. Little lady, lower your shoulders half an inch," the shrill voice of the imperial palace's head maid rang out.
She was ancient, gliding over the marble floor in her layered robes that conveniently hid her feet. Yet her voice could shatter glass. Apparently, today's torment was etiquette training.
Even after sleeping in one of those elite luxury beds—so soft it felt like sinking into a cloud—I'd woken up feeling like I'd been hit by a dropship. Why hadn't I just thrown myself out the window when I had the chance?
Floating closer to me, the head maid raised her ruler and nudged my chin shut. "A lady must never leave her mouth open like that. It is unbecoming."
"I'm a soldier, though...?" I muttered, earning a sharp snap of her ruler in the air.
"I'm still a soldier."
She scoffed, rolling her eyes with the disdain of someone whose soul had long ago been eroded by stubborn cadets. Then she floated toward Freya, who already looked like she belonged on a royal crest. Perfect posture, serene expression, every gesture calculated and flawless.
"Please try to emulate Miss Freya, Lady Firefly," the maid lectured, as if I hadn't heard her the first dozen times. "She has mastered every mannerism, just like Sir Zero. Sirs Jason and Alex are nearly there. Only you continue to lag behind. Now—what are the do's and don'ts when speaking to nobility?"
"Do be respectful, like with a superior officer," I recited with a groan, slumping into the second chair beside me. "Don't look them in the eye too long. Don't scare them. Don't talk back. Don't refuse their requests."
The head maid's eye twitched. With a sharp snap, her wooden ruler cracked in half.
"Your manner of speech requires serious correction, Miss Firefly."
"She's probably just tired," Jason offered with a laugh. "Firefly hates social situations. Yesterday was hell for her, and now she's been dragged out of bed for this. Once she gets some energy back, she'll be fine. You've seen how she is in front of nobles when she's not drained."
The maid exhaled through her nose like a kettle on the verge of boiling. "I hope you are correct, Sir Jason. My reputation as an instructor is at stake. Now, moving on to the dance—"
A knock at the door interrupted her. A blessing in butler's clothing stepped into the room.
"Head Maid," he said with a bow, "I've been asked to inform you that the formal uniforms for the Star Pilots have been completed. Also, Her Majesty the Empress requests to speak with Miss Firefly privately in her chamber."
"Coming," I said, already halfway out of my chair before the sentence finished.
The head maid's fury simmered beneath her skin. She crushed the remaining piece of ruler into splinters, but her voice stayed perfectly composed. "How pleasant. Please deliver the uniforms to the guests' quarters. And ensure that one doesn't attempt to flee after her audience with the Empress."
Before the door shut behind me, I heard Alex murmur, "She seemed motivated."
The yelp that followed said he immediately regretted it.
"This way, Miss Firefly," the butler said, guiding me through the expansive halls of the palace. We stopped before two enormous doors—white with gilded trim. "Inside."
The moment I stepped through, the sheer scale of the Empress's bedroom made me falter. It was vast. Andromeda could lie down full-length and still have space to roll around—though if he stood, he'd need to crouch.
Each corner of the room boasted something lavish: exotic taxidermy, gleaming trophies, strange artifacts that radiated opulence. Even from a glance, I could tell they were all stupidly expensive.
At the centre of it all stood the Empress herself—Lucione—in elegant sleepwear that clung to her figure like flowing moonlight. She held a scarf in the crook of her elbows, studying two clothing ensembles displayed on mannequins in front of her.
One was a grey and dark-orange suit with streaks of green and a cloak hanging from its pauldrons. The other, a fiery red dress with a grand tail of fur and cascading ribbons. My eyes lingered on the scarf looped at the dress's neck—it was nearly identical to the one on my jacket.
"Ah, you're here, Firefly." The Empress turned to me with a soft smile, her poise radiant and unnerving. "Lunch will be here shortly, but first—tell me what you think of these outfits. I can't decide."
"Will you be wearing them yourself, my Empress?" I asked, hesitating just beyond the threshold.
She laughed, amused by my nervousness. "Come here. Tell me what you think of them, honestly."
I obeyed, my footsteps echoing as I approached the mannequins. I circled them once, trying to gather my thoughts.
"Th-this is just my personal preference," I stammered, "but the suit looks more comfortable... and easier to move in. But—uh, I do like the scarf. And that thing on the dress's chest. The chest strap... ribbons? They're nice too. If... a little revealing."
"Mhm. Those are called a bustle and a bodice, Pilot Firefly." With a snap of her fingers, a dozen men and women poured out of a door I had assumed led to a closet.
"Remove the cloak from the suit," the Empress commanded. "Replace it with the dress's scarf. Use the bodice as a sash, and stitch the Empire's flag emblem onto it. Then attach the bustle to the suit's tailcoat. How long will that take?"
"It will be done before the banquet, Your Grace," said the man I assumed to be the sergeant of the twenty others who'd swarmed the room like a disciplined storm. He bowed deeply before the Empress as his team carried the two mannequins back into the side room they'd emerged from. "Thank you for entrusting us with this endeavour."
Just as quickly as they'd arrived, the crowd vanished, leaving the grand chamber eerily silent once more. I blinked, stunned.
"Wh-what was that, Your Majesty?"
"Hmm. Just a bit of preparation," Lucione said lightly, as though it were the most mundane thing in the world. "You'll be escorting me to the banquet tonight. I couldn't decide which look suited you better, so I thought I'd ask. You were just on the opposite side of the central palace."
I frowned, baffled. It had taken me nearly twenty minutes to walk here. Just the opposite side?
That wasn't even the most shocking part. "I—I thought you were joking yesterday, Your Grace. H-how can someone like me—a defective artificial—possibly be fit to escort you? Please... reconsider."
"I already said you are, and that's final." Her voice was calm, decisive. Unshakable. "No need to panic—you start to stutter and lose your words when you're anxious."
She spoke as though I had no say in the matter, as if every piece of me belonged to her whims.
Even my clothes had been chosen by her.
Why?
"Also," she continued casually, "you'll be helping me sneak out of the palace after lunch. I want to see the city during the festival."
That didn't even surprise me anymore. I simply lowered my head in quiet surrender. "As you wish, Your Majesty. But... may I ask one question?"
"If you like." She sank gracefully into a nearby sofa, waiting for lunch with the ease of someone who had never once been denied anything in her life.
"Why me? Why am I your escort, and not someone like Field Marshal Excav? I'm still... inexperienced with these things."
She regarded me thoughtfully, then gestured to the seat across from her like it was an unspoken order. I obeyed, sitting stiffly across from her.
"Because you are Traveler's student. That is my only reason," she said, voice as level as a blade's edge. "He usually escorts me himself—unless it's my younger brother—but due to an increase in Dream Swarm activity, he had to leave quite suddenly last night. My brother is also... in detention. Something about his little unsanctioned adventure three months ago."
The mention of Traveler sent a pang through my chest. Her remark about her half-brother's stunt, however, filled me with something heavier than guilt. It was clearly an incident she intended to hang over my head whenever it suited her.
"I see... That's unfortunate."
A knock came at the door. A servant entered and announced herself before wheeling in a silver trolley topped with glistening plates of food. As she laid them out with practiced elegance, the Empress spoke slowly, watching me.
"You don't seem surprised Traveler left so suddenly."
"He said he'd be leaving before the banquet," I murmured. My hands clenched tightly in my lap. "I just hoped I could introduce Andromeda to him before he did."
There was a lump in my throat I didn't know how to swallow. "I know he's like the wind. Try to hold on to him and he'll slip through your fingers—maybe never come back. I was just... thankful I got a year and a half with him. That's all. I just want him to congratulate me when he sees me again."
The Empress smiled—a quiet, knowing smile—and with a gentle wave, dismissed the servant. Alone now, she began eating in small, elegant bites. A perfectly roasted rabbit had been laid before her, carved and plated like artwork.
"It's hard to tell if you're a puppy or a bird, Pilot Firefly," she said between bites. "But tell me—what do you like most about him?"
I gave a quiet chuckle. "Probably how free-spirited he is. How abstract his thoughts are. I don't think he's ever said anything plain or ordinary. He trained me with riddles and half-stories. Half the time I didn't even know if he was serious. And the stories he told... they were the most unbelievable things I'd ever heard. I don't know why he chose me. I doubt I'll ever understand it."
The Empress sat in silence, eating the rest of her meal with a serene, almost approving expression. I couldn't tell what she was thinking—but she seemed satisfied.
After placing her fork and knife neatly on her plate, she stood without a word and disappeared into a side room. I caught a glimpse of what lay within—rows upon rows of extravagant outfits. It was a wardrobe the size of a small house.
A minute later, she emerged wearing clothing far more subdued: a plain, stylish outfit I might see on a citizen in the upper districts. Without a word, she walked out onto the terrace I hadn't noticed before.
"Come on," she said calmly. "We need to go before Marshal Excav arrives for his daily report."
"N-Now?" I shot up from the sofa, startled. I could've sworn that terrace wasn't there before—or maybe I'd just refused to acknowledge it.
"Yes. Now."
The moment I stepped onto the terrace, she jumped up onto my back without warning. My entire body froze, her scent—lavender and something softer—flooding my senses.
"You're a pilot," she said simply. "So you can get us down from this height, right?"
Internally, I wept. How much trouble was I going to get into for this?
"Very easily," I muttered.
"Off we pop, then."
And with that, I leapt down from the terrace climbing the walls to ground level, the Empress on my back like a carefree child. We slipped into the palace gardens and crept through winding paths and sculpted hedges for nearly half an hour before arriving at a tree with crimson leaves leaning against the western wall.
A hole had been carved through its roots. I dropped to my knees and crawled through, her arms still wrapped comfortably around my shoulders.
Her touch shouldn't have felt this comforting.
Now outside the palace, concealed in a thick bush that clung to its outer wall, we slipped quietly into the passing crowd and drifted into a quieter corner of the plaza.
"You're very good at this," Empress Lucione said, casually adjusting the silver-and-black-ringed bracelet on her wrist.
Eyes scanning the street for anyone who might have followed us, I didn't care much for flattery. "I'm a soldier. I need to know how to vanish when the situation demands it. But... Empress, won't someone recognize you?"
"Are you so certain?" she asked, voice dropping into a slightly lower register.
I turned to look—and froze. Her whole face had changed. She still possessed the elegance and beauty of a model, but her eyes now shimmered a soft green, and her hair had turned a muted chestnut brown. The distinctive mole beneath her eye had vanished.
Holding up her bracelet, she explained with a smile, "A safety device I requested. Monitors my vitals, keeps me in peak condition, and even has an emergency warp function to fifteen random planets. Handy little thing." Then she peered at me with mischief in her eyes. "Now... how do we disguise your cute face?"
I pulled the sports cap Traveler had given me yesterday from my jacket pocket and tucked it low over my blonde-grey hair. "This should work... if I keep my head down."
"Not quite enough." With a grin, she plucked the cap from my head. "Let me improve it."
She gathered up my long hair and looped it through the back strap of the cap, tying it off with a spare headband she pulled from her sleeve. The hair now fell in a rough ponytail behind me.
"Now you look like a properly scary tomboy," she said with delight. "Very different from the cute girl from before. Though if you had some denim shorts and maybe a ribbon for a choker..."
I shrank under her intense gaze, wondering how such a small change to my appearance could draw such enthusiasm. "Can we please just do what you came here for and go back to the palace, Your Majesty?"
"The banquet doesn't start until ten," she replied breezily, patting my shoulder before strolling out into the street again. I followed beside her.
"That's not what I'm worried about..."
"Relax. Just have fun with it," she said. "And drop the title—call me Lucy, or we'll draw too much attention."
Without warning, she slipped her arm through mine, making me jump. "Think of this as escort training," she teased. "I'll lead you to snacks and people; you make sure to win me prizes. That's much easier than dealing with nobility, right, Pilot Firefly?"
Finally accepting the absurd situation I'd willingly walked into, I managed a bright smile to match hers. "Maybe not... Lucy."
As we wandered down the lively street, Lucione, now Lucy, behaved like any other girl swept up in a festival. She laughed with strangers, sampled sweets from every other vendor, and bought far more food than she could carry. She nudged me constantly to loosen up, to stop walking like a bodyguard and start living.
The food was incredible, especially the crepes—warm and delicate with just the right hint of sweetness. The games she dragged me to, from darts to the water balloon toss, were laughably easy. She ordered me to win her prizes like it was a royal command—stuffed animals, trinkets, cheap rings.
The only real challenge came from a drinking contest with a broad-shouldered man who underestimated me. I downed fifteen bottles of ale to win a badge with Andromeda's face etched on it. Victory never tasted so bitter.
Andromeda, though ever-present in my mind, remained quiet. As if he, too, approved of this odd detour from war, death, and duty.
Just for a little while... we lived like ordinary people, caught in the lights and laughter of a world that had forgotten I were anything else.