The king enjoyed the festival alongside us, his presence blending seamlessly into the warmth of the celebration. As his personal guard, my father had to remain by his side at all times. I didn’t mind—it was his duty, after all. But I couldn’t help thinking he should spend more time with his own family.

If he even had one.

I’d overheard a conversation not meant for my ears—something about the king’s daughter being away from the kingdom, and his wife… well, the details dissolved into awkward silence. Still, you’d think a father would want to share moments like these with his own child rather than escorting another family. But I suppose duty comes first. If the king needed protection, there wasn’t much to be done about it.

We stood near the dance floor, the heart of the festival. Elders and children swayed to melodies played by skilled musicians, some even singing along, lost in the joy of the celebration.

I’ll admit it—the dances of this world have a singular elegance. A beauty that feels strangely familiar. It’s hard to explain… like in my past life, I’d felt a persistent nostalgia for an era I’d never lived, as if this time was where I’d always belonged.

It was so peaceful.

"H-Hey… um, excuse me…"

A trembling voice came from behind me.

Hm?

I turned.

Oh. A girl. Her face was flushed with embarrassment.

"Yes? Can I help you?" I asked kindly. Was she lost? If so, Mother or Father could assist her.

The girl fidgeted with her fingers, avoiding my gaze. I raised an eyebrow.

What’s wrong?

"I was wondering if… you’d like to dance with me…?"

Oh.

What should I do? It’d been a while since I’d danced with anyone. And modern-era dances were completely different from these.

Maybe I should try. It’d be the polite thing to do. Could be a good experience.

I glanced around for Mother, but she was no longer beside me. At some point, she’d joined the dance floor with Father without me noticing. When? Guess I had no choice but to accept. I wouldn’t wander far anyway.

"Well—"

"Wait a minute!"

What?

Before I could respond, Isolde wedged herself between us. Her furrowed brow and rigid posture radiated authority.

"Lucy, you’re staying with me!" she declared, crossing her arms with absolute finality.

The girl blinked, bewildered.

"What? Why?" I asked, baffled. It wasn’t like I’d vanish into the crowd.

"Because…" Isolde hesitated for a split second before jutting her chin out defiantly. "Because I say so. And because Mother told me not to let you out of my sight."

Oh, come on. That was obviously a lie. What's your problem? Her stiff posture, the way she refused to meet my eyes, how her lips pressed into a thin line… She didn’t want to let me go.

But why?

"I’m not going far—"

"N-No! You’re staying here with me."

She grabbed my hand with iron resolve and dragged me toward where the king stood, watching the dancers without joining.

Before Isolde could pull me away completely, I looked back.

The girl had raised her hand slightly, as if to stop me, then let it drop in resignation. Her expression held quiet disappointment.

And when I turned my gaze to Isolde, I caught something else in her face.

It wasn’t just annoyance.

It was deeper.

A glint of fear. Of stubbornness. Of absolute refusal. As if the mere idea of someone else taking me away was unbearable.

…Is she jealous?