The spaceport lay hushed in the night.
Ordinarily, even at this late hour, a spaceport would hum with activity. But Baisha, taking in the scene, knew the man before her had ordered it cleared.
Two pairs of strikingly similar deep blue eyes met, each party momentarily startled. After a few seconds of mutual scrutiny, Baisha was the first to avert her gaze.
Her lips pressed together, her pale face dipping slightly, the gem-like brilliance of her eyes dimming.
Yet, the more she withdrew, the sharper his gaze became—as if it sought to pierce her face and glimpse her soul.
Baisha, enduring this piercing scrutiny, silently stepped back two paces.
…Why does this man look so much like the avatar I crafted in the Boundless City?
That avatar, too striking to wear often, had been donned only once for a thrill in the virtual realm before Baisha archived it. She'd named it "Zero," occasionally loading it with prebuilt models and scripts for amusement. At first, she indulged in action-packed scenarios—Star Wars, Alien Invasion, Skyfall Rescue—where "Zero" replaced the protagonists. In the virtual lens, "Zero" moved with crisp precision, its vivid expressions making Baisha whistle in delight. Out of a narcissistic whim, she treated "Zero" as an alternate self, finding joy in these immersive games.
Later, she dabbled in melodramatic romance scripts: tales of star-crossed lovers torn apart by feuding families, where the heroine feigned love for another, breaking the hero's heart. He, in turn, used ruthless means to reclaim her, only to wound her further, paving the way for a rival's triumph. Baisha had little taste for such shallow plots, but she relished watching "Zero" suffer—betrayed, manipulated, abandoned, loving fiercely yet cast aside, torn between devotion and jealousy until he lost himself. The anguish thrilled her. She saved gifs of the most iconic scenes, revisiting them as a perverse comfort.
Baisha admitted her tastes were… eccentric. But she never imagined "Zero" would manifest as a living person!
Guiltily, she shrank further.
To others, her retreat signaled fear.
"You're frightening her," a familiar voice interjected.
Baisha turned to see a young man with brown eyes, his cloak embroidered with faintly glowing gold. His gold-rimmed glasses lent him a refined air—the Privy Council President she'd seen via hologram.
The silver-haired, blue-eyed man frowned, glancing at Baisha but not dismissing the suggestion.
"Follow me," he said, his voice rich yet icy, tinged with an unspoken urgency.
A formidable entourage moved with him.
Unaccustomed to such pomp and still wary, Baisha followed obediently, keeping her eyes forward.
She didn't notice him glance back, noting her tension. He signaled the guard captain, who slowed the escort, widening the gap.
The Privy Council President, observing, smiled faintly and matched their pace.
They entered the spaceport's lounge, a modest room of forty or fifty square meters, furnished with bookshelves, a round table, sofas, and a few lush potted plants. Weili, Jilun, and Baisha entered, while most guards remained outside.
Seated, Weili, the most approachable, spoke first. "Our first meeting, child. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Weili, President of the Aresian Empire's Privy Council."
Baisha nodded politely.
Weili paused, his gaze shifting to the commanding figure at the center. "And this is His Majesty, the thirty-second Emperor of the Aresian Empire, Cecil Ronin."
Though she'd suspected as much, the revelation stunned Baisha.
"…Greetings, Your Majesty."
She kept her eyes down, praying the Imperials wouldn't probe her neural device's data. If they saw her "Zero" archives, no prison term could save her.
Baisha studied the plush carpet beneath her feet, vibrant yet soft, segmented with geometric patterns. At its heart bloomed a gold-and-blue passionflower, encircled by vivid blue sparrows, their tails woven with silver thread that shimmered under the lights.
The carpet, like the opulent sofa, clashed with the lounge's simplicity, clearly a hasty addition.
Baisha nudged the carpet, seemingly unaware that her greeting had gone unanswered.
A shadow fell over her. A cool touch grazed her cheek—someone's flawless fingers gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
Light flooded Baisha's eyes.
She squinted but didn't resist.
"Why do you avoid my eyes?" Cecil Ronin asked slowly, his cold, handsome gaze locked on her.
"…I'm merely shocked, Your Majesty," Baisha said steadily, with a trace of well-placed unease. "We look too alike."
Cecil Ronin's lips twitched. "Perhaps you're right—mere resemblance." He released her chin, frowning deeply, and turned to Weili. "Coming here was a mistake. She cannot bear royal blood—and I believed such madness."
His tone brewed a storm of fury.
Weili sighed. "Don't evade, Your Majesty. The Royal Medical Institute awaits outside. A gene test will provide undeniable answers."
Two white-clad physicians entered with medical kits, respectfully drawing blood and collecting data from Baisha and Cecil.
"No bone marrow needed?" Baisha asked.
The physician, briefly alarmed, replied humbly, "We wouldn't dare. Blood suffices for genetic and mental strength tests."
Cecil's eyes grew colder. "They dared extract your marrow?"
"…Just a bit," Baisha said, gesturing with her bandaged hand, her slim wrist drawing Cecil's frown. "For a pre-academy mental strength retest."
Cecil stated flatly, "Imperial technology isn't so primitive."
"Oh," Baisha replied.
Her respectful yet casual demeanor left Weili and Jilun astonished.
Cecil, oblivious, rolled down his sleeve post-blood draw, fastening gem-studded cufflinks, lost in thought.
After a tense fifteen minutes, the physician returned with the report.
"The results confirm Your Majesty is not the young lady's father. However, your genetic markers align closely, with a kinship probability exceeding ninety-five percent."
"In short, she bears royal blood, verified as a direct descendant of the previous Emperor."
Baisha blinked, turning to Cecil.
"So, you're my… uncle, or something else?"
Cecil's face darkened.
"The late Emperor had two children," Weili said, smiling. "Her Highness Xipes Ronin and His Highness Cecil Ronin."
Baisha understood. "I'm Xipes' daughter?"
"Indeed, Your Highness," Weili and Jilun said, rising to bow with hands over their stomachs, a royal salute. "Welcome back to the Aresian Empire."
Cecil remained silent, then stood abruptly, his boots striking a cold rhythm as he left.
Baisha watched his retreating figure, thinking: I'm not his secret child, tarnishing his honor. Why such a reaction?
As her uncle, not father, the pressure eased. She even smiled, asking curiously, "Where are my parents? Aren't they here?"
The room fell silent.
After half a minute, Weili lowered his head, his tone soothing. "We don't know their whereabouts."
"…To be precise, Her Highness Xipes has been missing since leaving the Empire twenty years ago."
"We don't know when you were born or why you ended up in the Federation's frontier. Xipes had no betrothal before vanishing. We cannot identify your father. But Aresians never abandon their children. Believe me, Xipes would never have forsaken you willingly."
Baisha parsed his logic.
Her mother was the Empire's missing princess, gone twenty years.
Twenty years ago, Xipes wasn't pregnant.
No wonder the Emperor's attitude is so conflicted.
His sister vanished, unwed. Two decades later, a niece appeared, but neither sister nor her mysterious husband returned.
"Your Highness, I know it's difficult, but do you have any memories of Xipes?" Weili's gentle brown eyes stirred a faint guilt in Baisha.
She'd awakened on Blanslo Star, her body already six or seven, with no memories prior.
Without Xipes' trail, Baisha's royal status was awkward.
"Does Cecil… I mean, my uncle, dislike me?" Baisha asked, gauging her future in the Empire. The Federation was no longer viable; if the Empire proved treacherous, she'd rather pilot a ship to the frontier as a mercenary.
"Don't overthink," Weili said. "The royal family cherishes kinship. His Majesty and Xipes were close, trusting each other with their lives. On that alone, he'll ensure you receive all royal privileges."
Weili's unspoken implication was grim: Xipes, an Aresian, would have protected her child at all costs. Baisha's years of neglect in the Federation suggested Xipes might be gone.
No other reason explained abandoning her daughter.
Cecil, for whom Xipes was his last living kin, likely struggled most with this.
He needed time to accept.
As for the new princess…
Weili sighed, his gaze on Baisha filled with pity.
"Jilun, look after Her Highness," he said, adjusting his glasses with slow grace. "I'll speak with His Majesty."
Weili left the lounge, standing on the steps, his pale eyes scanning the dimly lit docking bay.
The Emperor hadn't gone far.
He'd dismissed his guards, sending them to their ships. Alone under the vast, starless sky, his posture was rigid, his attire flawless. Only the passionflower brooch on his chest gleamed stubbornly blue.
Cecil removed it, clutching it, the sapphire's light spilling through his fingers.
Weili recognized it—a gift from Xipes to Cecil for his coming-of-age, years ago.
Aresians struggled with fertility; even the Ronin royals often bore a single child per generation. The previous Emperor's two children—Xipes and Cecil—sparked joy for the royal line's growth, but also fears of succession disputes, as history held examples of sibling rivalries.
When heirs were unequal, choosing was simple. But when both were exceptional and close in age, meddlers whispered discord.
Xipes' response was the brooch.
The passionflower, a royal emblem reserved for the Emperor, was gifted by Xipes, the heir, to her brother, signaling to the Empire her willingness to share supreme glory. Their bond was unshakable, no throne could divide them. Whoever ruled, they'd remain family.
Who could've foreseen what followed?
Weili watched Cecil, lost in the brooch's glow.
After a long pause, he joined him, standing as always at his side. "We should be glad, Your Majesty."
Cecil's brow furrowed, his gaze shifting.
"Her Highness' existence shows Xipes wasn't alone in her years away," Weili said, his words compelling belief. "We know Xipes' character. Only the finest soul could win her love and father her child."
"…She merely embarked on her own adventure, unseen by us. Her free spirit thrived, meeting her love, bearing a child. The first half of her journey must've been beautiful beyond our imagining."
Cecil knew Weili spoke truth.
But it couldn't ease the pain of her absence.
Where had she gone?
Had she suffered?
Why was she parted from her child?
The heavens delivered Xipes' daughter, yet withheld even a whisper of her fate.
"My next words may displease you, but I must say: Her Highness is innocent," Weili said, trusting Cecil's calm would return. "You have cherished memories with Xipes. What does Baisha have? Orphaned in a foreign land, suffering, believing herself abandoned, then facing the Federation's cruelty at the cusp of adulthood… She hasn't lived like a Ronin. You can't expect her to mirror Xipes from the start."
"Xipes was an excellent sister," Cecil said abruptly. "But if my niece shared her temperament, I'd have a headache."
Weili chuckled, startled. "True."
"Compared to Xipes, Baisha resembles you more…"
Cecil's face cooled.
"That's my only grievance with her."
Weili: "…"
He inhaled, a familiar urge to resign surging. As Cecil's minister in his princely days, such impulses were routine.
"What will you do with her?" Weili asked, rubbing his brow. "Be gentle—she's your only ward now. And how will you announce her existence?"
"Not yet," Weili cautioned. "Her entity isn't fully formed. She can't protect herself in a crisis."
Publicly named, Baisha would be the sole heir. Her Federation upbringing and unformed entity would draw scrutiny and suppression.
"Let her return as a noble," Cecil said after a pause. "Once her entity forms, she'll be crowned princess, inheriting her mother's title. No one in the Empire can oppose that."
Most nobles awakened entities by five. Baisha's unformed entity at her age wasn't merely inadequacy—it was a "congenital defect" in noble eyes.
But she wasn't to blame.
The Royal Medical Institute's post-gene report revealed Baisha's neglect in the Federation. Her cells and entity craved nourishment. Royal children required immense nutrition from birth to support their exceptional mental strength and entities, like nestlings thriving on ample food versus those starved.
"Jilun reported her entity's immense strength," Weili recalled. "It's only struggling to form. No need for excessive worry. Back on Youdu Star, she can undergo full testing."
Cecil studied the report, a glint of menace in his eyes.
"Why not raze the Federation?"
"No, Your Majesty. We must coexist."
"They dared interrogate her."
"If they knew her true identity, they'd regret not killing her."
"…"
Silence fell.
Weili broke it. "Won't you see her? She called you 'uncle,' but you left too quickly to hear."
Cecil's eyes flickered.
He rubbed the brooch, murmuring, "I'll gift her this as a welcome."
They exchanged a glance and returned to the lounge. Cecil's abrupt exit, followed by Weili, might have left Baisha uneasy with only Jilun.
But as they opened the door, a contented purr greeted them—a beast soothed.
The black panther sprawled on Baisha's lap, relishing her enthusiastic petting, showing no trace of unease, sorrow, or displacement.
Weili: "…"
Cecil: "…"
Cecil's expressionless gaze fixed coldly on Jilun.
Jilun, enduring the odd sensation of his entity's pampering, puzzled at the Emperor's sudden hostility.
What did I do wrong?