The accessories had been carefully selected to complement the lavender gown—subtle silver accents with hints of amethyst, delicate yet refined. When everything was finally set, Serena let out a long sigh. Preparing for a banquet was far more exhausting than she had imagined.
She rang the bell and called for Rika. "Tell the butler to ready the carriage," she said, rubbing her temples gently. "I'll be going out."
Rika nodded and left without question.
Before long, the carriage pulled up to the annex. As Serena stepped in, the steady clatter of hooves began to echo through the cobbled roads. Outside, the city buzzed with life—street vendors calling, children laughing, and the soft hum of conversation weaving through it all.
There were no guards accompanying them, only Serena and her two maids—Rika and Dyanne.
Serena looked out the small carriage window, her eyes scanning the passing streets. She didn't go out often—as she disliked crowded places and the constant buzz of the city made her uneasy. But sometimes, important matters required her presence.
The carriage came to a gentle halt in front of a quaint café tucked between a bakery and a bookstore. Serena stepped down gracefully, her eyes scanning the familiar sign above the door. She took a breath and entered.
"Lady Selwyn," a warm voice called.
"Hello, Daliah," Serena greeted with a soft smile.
Behind her, Dyanne and Rika slipped away as instructed, giving her privacy.
Serena handed over a neatly tied file. "Here's the manuscript."
Daliah, a woman in her early thirties with ink-stained fingers and sharp eyes, handled the pages with care. She untied the ribbon and skimmed a few lines with practiced ease. "It's good—as always."
Then, with a teasing look, she asked, "So, what about volume four of 'The Prophetess'?"
Serena folded her arms with a sigh. "I can't seem to find a natural continuation. I think it's better to end it with the next volume."
"As you wish," Daliah said, nodding. She knew better than to push. "But I'll admit, I'm sad to see it end. It's the work that put us on the map."
Serena smiled faintly. Daliah's publishing company had once been a small, struggling venture. But after The Prophetess became a surprise bestseller, everything changed. Now, they had a reputation—and a growing line of authors begging for contracts.
Carefully, Daliah placed the manuscript into a folder. "So… how's everything at the estate? I heard there's going to be a imperial banquet. Are you going?"
"I should… I suppose," Serena replied, her tone tinged with awkwardness.
Daliah chuckled. "That sounds like a yes and a cry for help all in one."
They shared a light laugh, and after exchanging a few more words and pleasantries, the two women finally said their farewells.
As Serena stepped back into the carriage, she clutched the quiet satisfaction of another story completed… and the nerves of another one just beginning.
Earlier, Lucas had been informed by his aide that Serena had gone out. He hadn't thought much of it—Serena rarely left the annex unless it was truly necessary.
Sometimes, he found himself oddly proud of her. Despite her background and the sudden rise in status, there had never been a single scandal involving her. She lived quietly, gracefully, never overstepping boundaries.
He set down his glasses and rose from his desk, eyes scanning the bookshelf in front of him. His fingers paused before pulling out a novel titled 'The Wandering Wizard'.
It was written by his favorite author—Rena.
Ever since reading her debut, The Prophetess, he had been captivated by her stories. There was a subtle warmth and elegance in her writing, yet also strength—a quiet resilience that always drew him in.
She hadn't been on the scene for long, but she had already become a bestselling author. Her books were stacked in every bookstore now, and her name was whispered with admiration among literary circles.
Lucas sat down again, flipping through the pages with a thoughtful look. He had been considering sending Rena a gift, something to express his appreciation for her work. But what kind of gift would suit such a brilliant and mysterious author? He still couldn't decide.
Unbeknownst to him, the author he admired so deeply was none other than Serena—his stepmother whom he had always regarded with polite detachment and distant respect.