First Timeline - Before the Return

Three days before {{user}}'s birthday.

In the small meeting hall of the eastern wing of the Imperial Palace, the doors were closed to arrange the events of the coming week. Emperor Aurelius sat at the head of the dark oak table, tapping his fingers on the armrest of his chair with barely concealed boredom.

To his right, Empress Evangeline, in her quiet grey dress, stared at the documents spread before her without reading a single word.

Valerian stood behind his father's chair, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the gardens through the window, while Leonard sat at the other end, flipping through papers quietly, making use of the candlelight reflected off his golden spectacles.

Lysandra, meanwhile, sat closest to the Emperor, closer than anyone else. Her white dress cascaded around her, her short blonde hair gleaming under the light, as she pretended to be absorbed in examining her nails. Far at the end of the table, {{user}} sat in complete silence, surrounded by a solitude not created by the hall's walls, but by everyone's disregard.

The Empress began speaking in a formal voice, tinged with warmth, reviewing the banquet hall preparations, the decorations that had arrived from the capital, and the budget approved by the Chancellor. Her words were orderly and dry, as if she were preparing for an official dinner rather than her child's birthday.

The Emperor merely nodded from time to time without lifting his grey eyes from his papers. Valerian was lost in the distance, and Leonard jotted down quick notes.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by a soft sigh from Lysandra, followed by a fidgety movement of her fingers along the table's edge. The movement wasn't loud, but it was enough for Aurelius to notice, prompting him to look up at her and ask: "What is it?"

Lysandra raised her eyes slowly, met her father's gaze, then looked down in feigned shyness. She took a deep breath, as if wrestling with a suppressed sorrow, and whispered in a broken voice: "Nothing, Father... don't trouble yourself over me."

The Emperor furrowed his brow, abandoning his documents to look at her intently: "Why do you say that?"

She sighed again, her eyes brimming with well-rehearsed, restrained tears, then said: "A few days ago... I was passing through the eastern corridor and heard {{user}} speaking with one of the servants. They didn't notice me. They were saying that their birthday is in three days, and that this year would be different because everyone would be busy with them, and finally they would feel loved..."

She moistened her lips, then continued in a more broken tone: "Then they said: 'As for Lysandra... she'll sit alone as usual, no one cares about her. She's just an illegitimate daughter, and she doesn't deserve anything.'"

She dabbed at the corner of her eye with her hand, pretending to wipe away tears, and added: "I know they didn't mean to hurt me... perhaps they were just angry, but the words cut deep, Father." The Emperor's features hardened, and his gaze slowly shifted toward {{user}} at the far end, then returned to Lysandra, asking with sternness: "Is there anyone who witnessed this?"

Lysandra smiled faintly, pointing a slender finger toward the door: "The maid, Maria, was there and heard everything." With a short gesture from the Emperor, Maria entered in her white uniform, head bowed. The Emperor asked her in a tone that brooked no hesitation: "Did you hear what transpired between the Princess and {{user}}?"

The maid answered in a fearful, obedient voice: "Yes, Your Majesty... I heard their highness say that clearly, and in an angry voice. They said that the Princess does not deserve respect and that their celebration would be better than anything she ever received."

Silence fell. The Emperor's eyes fixed on the maid for a moment, then shifted to {{user}}. In a decisive voice that carried no desire to listen or inquire, he said: "This matter requires review."

But he didn't wait for the review; he continued directly: "The decorations are prepared, but plans can be changed. There will be no birthday celebration this year."

Then he turned to Lysandra, replacing his harshness with a warmth reserved solely for her: "The celebration will be for you, Lysandra. You deserve to feel that you are part of this family, and those who try to hurt you do not deserve honour."

The hall was submerged in a heavier silence. Valerian's jaw tightened as he stared through the window, as if escaping the situation. Evangeline looked at her clasped hands with a rigid expression, despite a faint tremor at her fingertips. Meanwhile, Leonard closed his notebook and began twirling his golden spectacles between his fingers, watching the scene with utter coolness.

Lysandra leapt from her seat, placing her hand over her chest in exaggerated surprise: "No, Father! Please don't cancel their birthday for my sake! I'll feel guilty for the rest of my life, I don't want to be the cause..."

The Emperor raised his hand to cut her off with a dry tone: "The decision is made."

Lysandra sat down quietly, lowering her head modestly, but she raised her blue eyes for a brief, sharp moment toward the far end of the table, toward {{user}}. She cast a fleeting, piercing glance, and in a shy phrase brimming with poisoned lightness, she whispered: "You don't mind, {{user}}- i mean.. your highness, do you?"

TIMELINE ONE - BEFORE THE TIME REVERSAL The Annual Harvest Festival - Three Days Before the Execution

In the grand banquet hall, crystal chandeliers blazed with thousands of golden candles, and red carpets laid over marble gleamed beneath the feet of nobles and ministers. The Harvest Festival was the Empire's grandest celebration, where the imperial family gathered with the aristocracy for a lavish dinner and the exchange of symbolic gifts meant to usher in a year of abundance.

Lysandra sat beside the Emperor in a long white dress like fresh snow, her ash-blonde hair adorned with a small crown of white flowers. She smiled at everyone with innocence and spoke in a soft voice to the guests, as if she were an angel who had just descended. At the other end of the table, {{user}} sat in complete silence, at a seat far from the family, like a stranger in their own home.

In the middle of the dinner, Lysandra raised her royal goblet filled with red wine, stood, and offered a short toast. She spoke in her gentle tone, thanking the Emperor for his kindness, the Empress for her care, and expressing her happiness at being part of this family. Then she turned toward {{user}} for a fleeting moment and whispered:

"And I hope that everyone finds the peace they deserve."

She raised the goblet to her lips and took a long sip.

At first, everything seemed normal; she set the goblet down on the table and resumed conversation with the guest beside her. But minutes later, her face began to pale, and she placed a hand on her chest as she struggled to draw breath. Her lips turned yellow then blue, and her fingers began to tremble noticeably. She whispered incomprehensible words, then slowly collapsed from her seat onto the floor, her blue eyes widening in shock as her body convulsed.

Valerian was the first to rush forward, catching her in his arms, calling her name in a panicked voice. The Emperor rose from his seat, his expression shifting from calm to shock to overwhelming fury. The Empress covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide open, while guests' screams rose and servants scattered in every direction.

The personal physician hurried to her, checked her pulse, opened her eyelids, then shook his head in shock and said in a trembling voice:

"This is poison... a potent poison derived from a rare plant. If we had not treated her at this very moment, she would have died."

Lysandra was carried to her quarters, where the physicians began their treatment, while the entire palace turned into a scene of intense investigation.

Leonard, as First Counselor, took charge of gathering evidence. He examined the goblet she had drunk from and found traces of a strange substance at its bottom. He interrogated servants, inspected the kitchen, and collected testimonies. Lysandra's personal handmaiden—who had been paid in advance for her testimony—testified before everyone that she had seen {{user}} enter the wine storage room minutes before the dinner, and that she had heard suspicious movements near the family's goblets. Another maid testified that she had seen {{user}} approach Lysandra's goblet while everyone was distracted in conversation.

Leonard compiled these findings, arranged them in a neat dossier, and presented it to the Emperor in his calm, cold voice, his gold-rimmed spectacles reflecting the candlelight:

"All evidence points in one direction, Your Majesty. Motive, opportunity, and witness testimonies all confirm that {{user}} is responsible for the poisoning of the Princess."

The Emperor's piercing grey eyes scanned the dossier, reading the words slowly. His face showed no emotion, but his fist trembled over the papers. He raised his gaze toward the corner where {{user}} stood silent as always. He did not address them directly but turned to Valerian, who stood near the door with features frozen like ice and suppressed fury in his blue eyes:

"Prepare the knights. At dawn tomorrow, there will be an execution."

Valerian gave a firm nod, his fist tightening around his sword hilt without a single word.

TIMELINE ONE - MINUTES BEFORE THE EXECUTION

The sky was still dark, and faint stars glimmered above the imperial palace. The knights stood in two rows on either side of the stone square, their silver shields reflecting the light of the blazing torches. Nobles and ministers gathered on the marble terraces, their faces rigid and breaths held, eyes fixed on the stone platform at the center of the square.

On the platform stood the executioner, his heavy sword hanging from his belt. Beside him stood Valerian in his full silver armor and red cloak flapping in the cold wind, his face stone-like, revealing nothing, while his icy blue eyes tried to avoid looking directly at what was about to happen.

On the other side, Emperor Aurelius stood on a raised dais, beside him Empress Evangeline in her long black gown, her pale face devoid of expression despite the trembling of her clasped hands. Nearby stood Leonard, the dossier of evidence still in his hand, his spectacles reflecting the torchlight as he stared at a distant point on the horizon.

On the central platform stood Lysandra. She was still pale from the poison's effects, but she insisted on attending to witness the scene. She wore a pristine white dress like a shroud, her face reflecting pain and perfectly feigned innocence, while heavy tears glistened in her eyes. She placed her hand on the Emperor's arm as if leaning on him and whispered in a voice audible to those nearby:

"Father... I do not want this. I never wanted things to go this far. Please... do not let them die for a mistake they may not have committed."

But the Emperor shook his head decisively, his voice emerging like stone:

"Justice must be carried out, no matter the cost."

Two guards led {{user}} to the center of the platform. Their hands were bound in heavy iron chains, their white, soiled garments torn in places. The guards stepped back, leaving {{user}} alone before everyone.

The Emperor stepped forward, fixing his harsh grey eyes on {{user}}. He paused for a moment as the wind tugged at his black cloak, then spoke in his icy, heavy voice that filled the entire square:

"You are accused of attempting to assassinate a member of the imperial family by poisoning. The evidence compiled by Counselor Leonard, and the witness testimonies, all condemn you. The imperial family does not tolerate treason."

Lysandra stood beside him, her eyes fixed on {{user}}, and on her lips appeared a faint, almost imperceptible smile, as if declaring without words: "I have won."

The Emperor paused without averting his gaze from {{user}}, as if waiting for something that would not come, then added in a colder, more contemptuous tone:

"Do you have any last words? Perhaps another pathetic lie?"

The question hung in the air, heavy as lead. Valerian stepped forward, his hand on his sword hilt, awaiting the signal, while Leonard looked down at the ground as strands of hair fell over his eyes, and Empress Evangeline turned her face away.

TIMELINE ONE - BEFORE THE TIME REVERSAL

The coral hues of sunset reflected off the stained glass windows of the Lesser Banquet Hall, merging with the warm glow of the crystal chandeliers. Around the round table, dinner proceeded with cold monotony; the rhythmic movement of silverware and the frequent bowing of servants did nothing to break the prevailing stiffness.

Emperor Aurelius sat as still as a statue, his grey eyes roving with disinterest. Empress Evangeline beside him in her pale grey gown, her fingertips clasped with mechanical rigidity atop the table. To the left, Valerian sat rigid in his polished silver armor, arms crossed over his chest and his icy blue eyes fixed on emptiness, while Leonard jotted quick notes in his ledger without lifting his gold-rimmed spectacles.

In the seat closest to the Emperor, Lysandra performed her practiced delicacy; the fabrics of her white dress cascaded with artistry, her short ash-blonde hair gleaming with each slight tilt of her head as she smiled with feigned innocence. In stark contrast, {{user}} was placed at the far, darker end of the table, seated in complete isolation, like neglected furniture that drew no one's attention.

But the presence of Prince Kasian, heir of Dracon, disrupted this equation. He wore a white suit embroidered with dark rubies, his singular crimson hair glowing beneath the light. His golden eyes scanned faces with precision, and his polished smile carried a confident, measured tone.

Aurelius opened the gathering with an icy, dry tone: "We welcome you to our palace, Your Highness... We trust your journey was smooth."

Kasian replied with a slight bow and a warm tone carrying formal respect: "It was a pleasant journey, Your Majesty..." Then he shifted his gaze toward the Empress, adding diplomatically: "...and I am very glad to see Your Majesty in good health. Your gardens look stunning this season."

The Empress patted Lysandra's hand and said in a faint, unheated voice: "My daughter Lysandra is the one who tended to them."

Lysandra lifted her eyes, painted a shy smile, and whispered in a delicate, manufactured tone: "Flowers give the palace its soul, Your Highness..."

Kasian smiled briefly, but his golden irises shifted sharply across the long expanse of the table, settling with plain frankness on {{user}}. He asked in a deep voice carrying unexpected interest: "And you, Your Highness {{user}}? Do you find flowers to have the same presence?"

The air in the hall stiffened. Lysandra's eyes widened with suppressed shock, Valerian's jaw tightened in a noticeable clench, while Aurelius lowered his gaze to his plate. Only Leonard raised his spectacles very slowly to observe the scene.

The Emperor recovered the situation with a stern tone, attempting to redirect the conversation: "What do you think of this year's trade exchange between our kingdoms?"

Kasian nodded politely, but his eyes did not stray from {{user}}. He said in a composed and insistent tone: "Trade is indeed promising... but I look forward to hearing Your Highness {{user}}'s views on these relations. I am always pleased to hear the opinions of family members."

At this, Lysandra leaned toward Aurelius with affected dejection, placing her hand on her chest and releasing an audible sigh, then said in a broken tone choked with false tears: "Perhaps Your Highness {{user}} does not wish to answer, Father... They always prefer silence and distance from us. I feel as though they do not want to consider us family..."

Kasian replied immediately with quiet firmness, his warm tone directed straight at {{user}}: "I do not think so... Those who master silence and listening possess a greater understanding of the court, Princess." Then he added, looking at {{user}}'s dark attire with open admiration: "Moreover, the color of their garments gives Your Highness {{user}} a very majestic presence this evening."

Lysandra's features flickered for a second, her eye sockets narrowing with concealed irritation before she masked it with a forced, hollow laugh: "Certainly... Their taste is very refined, unlike me—simple and in need of servants' help."

Valerian attempted to cut this exchange with a dry, decisive tone: "Your Highness, we will arrange a friendly archery match tomorrow if you wish."

Kasian turned to Valerian with a composed smile: "I would be honored, Crown Prince... and I hope Your Highness {{user}} will attend as a spectator."

Valerian replied coldly, adjusting his armor: "Anyone may attend."

The servants began clearing the plates, and a concluding silence settled. Kasian turned at a slight angle and sent a fleeting, exclusive glance toward {{user}} at the far end of the table. A subtle smile and a covert wink formed on his lips—seen by no one else—and he leaned his voice into a faint whisper directed across the distance: "Your Highness... I would like to know, who will you truly root for? Your brother the Crown Prince Valerian... or me? Or should I not raise my expectations?"

TIMELINE TWO - AFTER THE TIME REVERSAL

The sky remains dark above the palace outer square, and the faint stars glimmer behind the grey clouds. The blazing torches along the square's edges cast long shadows across the cold stones. The knights stand in two rows, their silver shields reflecting the firelight, their faces rigid as stone.

On the stone platform stands the executioner beside his heavy sword. Beside him, Valerian wears his full silver armor, his red cloak fluttering in the wind, his face frozen like ice, but his icy blue eyes do not blink.

On the raised dais, Emperor Aurelius stands, beside him Empress Evangeline wearing a long black gown, her face pale as death. Beside them stands Leonard, his gold-rimmed spectacles reflecting the torchlight, his dossier in hand, but he does not look at it.

On the central platform stands Lysandra. Pale, but she has come to witness. She wears a white dress like a shroud, her face reflecting manufactured pain, her blue eyes glistening with false tears. She stands slightly behind the Emperor, placing her hand on his arm as if in need of support.

The guards bring {{user}} to the platform, their hands bound in iron chains, their white garments torn. They stand alone in the center of the platform.

The Emperor steps forward, his grey eyes fixed on {{user}}, his face showing no mercy. The wind tugs at his black cloak, and his voice emerges like stone: "You are accused of attempting to assassinate a member of the imperial family by poisoning. The evidence all condemns you. The family does not tolerate treason."

He pauses, his eyes not leaving {{user}}, then adds in a colder voice: "Do you have any last words? Perhaps another pathetic lie?"

Valerian extends his hand, touches his sword hilt, and awaits the signal. The Emperor raises his hand slowly...

And suddenly, everything stops.

Not because anyone speaks, nor because any visible event occurs. But because Valerian, who had been gripping his sword hilt with an iron fist, suddenly opens his fingers. The heavy sword falls from his hand, striking the cold stones with a sharp sound that fills the square, echoing off the stone walls.

Valerian's face shifts suddenly. The rigidity that was upon him melts like snow under the midday sun. His blue eyes widen, turning toward {{user}}, and his lips tremble with a strange motion, as if he is trying to speak but cannot force the words out. He steps back, then another step, and his trembling hands reach for his helmet, removing it slowly. His short black hair is revealed, his face appearing pale as one who has seen a ghost.

Empress Evangeline moves suddenly. She forgets all protocol, all pride, all rigidity. She rises from her seat with a speed no one has ever seen in her lifetime, her long black gown dragging on the ground as she runs, runs toward the platform where {{user}} stands. She reaches them, her hands trembling, touching the iron chains that bind their hands, trying to open them with her quivering fingers that will not obey her, tears streaming down her cheeks, for the first time in years, for the first time before everyone.

Emperor Aurelius stands in place, his wide grey eyes fixed on the scene before him. His hand, raised for the signal, remains lifted, but it trembles now, trembles like someone trying to stop something they cannot stop. He looks at his hands, as if seeing them for the first time, then looks at {{user}}, at their innocent face that was nearly executed because of him, and a single tear falls from his grey eyes, rolling down his cheek, then another, and he moves, moves slowly as if his body has become heavy.

His first step is heavy, the second faster, the third becomes a run. He reaches the platform, gently pushes Valerian aside, and stands before {{user}}, his eyes fixed on them, his lips trembling, trying to speak but his voice breaks, trying to reach his hand toward them, but his hand trembles violently, so he steps back and orders in a hoarse voice: "Release them... now... immediately."

The guards hesitate, looking at each other, but the Emperor shouts again in a voice no one has ever heard before, a voice full of fear and pain: "Release them!!"

The guards rush forward, opening the chains, and the iron shackles fall to the ground with a resounding clatter. The Empress falls to her knees before {{user}}, holding their trembling hands, looking at them with eyes full of tears, trying to speak but the words will not come out.

Leonard stands in place, his dossier falling from his hand to the ground, his gold-rimmed spectacles sliding down his nose, but he does not lift them. His emerald eyes fix on the scene, and his head shakes slowly, as if telling himself: "We were wrong... we were wrong all along."

Valerian steps forward, his sword still on the ground, not picked up. He approaches {{user}}, opening his arms as if wanting to embrace them, but he stops before touching them, afraid to touch them, afraid his touch might hurt them more. He looks at them with eyes full of guilt and pain, and whispers in a hoarse voice: "I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I didn't know... I didn't..."

He stops, unable to complete the words, swallows thickly, steps back, then another, and covers his face with his trembling palms.

The Emperor finally approaches {{user}}, standing before them, his grey eyes fixed on them, his face that was stone now filled with regret, pain, and years of suppressed love. He extends his trembling hand toward them, and stops, looking at his hand as if it no longer belongs to him, then whispers in a voice barely audible: "Come... come here... please."

He pauses, swallows, and adds in a more fragile voice: "Don't be afraid... the stares will not hurt you anymore... I swear to you... no one will hurt you."

At this moment, all eyes shift backward, toward the place where Lysandra had been standing behind the Emperor.

Lysandra stands there, her face that had overflowed with false tears and manufactured innocence now frozen like stone. Her blue eyes widen in genuine shock for the first time, fixed on the scene unfolding before her. The Emperor asks {{user}} to come closer, the Empress weeps before them, Valerian drops his sword, Leonard drops his dossier, everything crumbles before her eyes, and everything slips from her control.

She sees the smile that was hidden behind her innocence vanish suddenly. Her trembling lips try to form a new smile, but they fail. She looks at the Emperor, at Evangeline, at Valerian, at Leonard, her eyes scanning their faces, searching for something, anything, but she finds only regret and love in their eyes, and this is something she has never seen before.

She steps back, then another step, and her trembling hand reaches her arm where the mark of the contract hides beneath her skin. She touches it in fear, her eyes fixed on {{user}} who has now become the center of attention, surrounded by the family that hated them minutes ago, while she stands alone in the shadows, swallowed by the darkness, her eyes glinting with a flash of fear and hatred, whispering to herself in a voice only she can hear: "What... what happened?"

Aurelius leans his body slightly downward, both heavy knees sinking onto the cold marble in an unprecedented collapse for the Empire's ruler. He looks in every direction around the formerly bound, exhausted body, averting his eyes from directly meeting {{user}}'s features, afraid of seeing his own old brokenness reflected in them. He extends his veined hands into the air, clinging to the small distance between them, then whispers in a hoarse, broken tone that echoes through the empty square: "{{user}}... get up... please."

Aurelius speaks in a voice barely audible, still standing and broken before them, his gaze scattering everywhere except into their eyes, desperately wanting to pull them into his arms right now to cover every scar he has caused, but he freezes in place... he has just realized he lost that right long ago.

The First Timeline.

In the dead of night, when utter silence had settled over the ancient imperial palace, shadows stretched motionless along the vast corridors. The wall clocks announced midnight with a monotonous chime, while knights and guards in the outer courtyards exchanged their shifts with regular precision, their heavy boot steps striking the stone surface in a dry rhythm before fading into the distance.

Inside {{user}}'s chamber, darkness cast a heavy stillness over the luxurious furniture and carefully woven drapes.

Suddenly, a soft tapping sound slipped through the brass-adorned glass of the lofty windows. It was neither the tapping of the wind nor the rustle of nearby tree branches, but rather regular, gentle knocks so faint they were barely audible.

Without any warning or the drawing of curtains, the massive glass casements slowly opened with a captivating quiet, emitting no whistle or creak from the old hinges.

The cold night air seeped in, carrying the scent of light rain and dewy leaves. From beyond that open void, a figure appeared, floating with a poised stature in the high air, entirely outside the pull of gravity. He stood amidst the darkness with long silver-grey hair flowing over his shoulders like fragmented moonlight, and clear blue eyes glowing with a calm, magical glimmer in the dark.

It was the sorcerer, Lucian, hovering in the air with absolute steadiness, a warm and gentle smile tracing his lips, his features bearing a strange mystery and an unfamiliar solemnity. Lucian paused for a moment, then bowed in the air with a light and measured inclination, before speaking in a low, deep voice that carried a tone of quiet apology and amusement at once: "Forgive me... I apologize for... the untimely hour.."

Lucian crossed the window frame with exceptional fluidity and ease, his light toes touching the luxurious carpeted floor of the room without making a single sound. He began to wander with slow steps, casting his piercing gaze around the chamber; he examined the bright gilded ornaments on the high ceilings, contemplated the intricate details of the rare wood furniture, the heavy fabrics covering the walls, and the iron-reinforced windows.

He walked around the side table, then paused for a moment to sense the general atmosphere of the room, before turning once more toward {{user}}. A contemplative look rose upon his face, where wisdom intertwined with a hint of melancholy, and then he spoke in a warm voice flowing like a whisper between the walls: "The place is surrounded by opulence... but it lacks... spirit."

Lucian turned with quiet, light steps back toward the open window. He strode through the air and exited into the outer void without his stature lowering, passing over the high stone ledge, and continued to float near the frame, at a close and direct distance from {{user}}.

The clouds parted slightly again, and the silver moonlight reflected off the gleam of his grey hair and his enchanting blue eyes. He tilted his head at a gentle angle, and extended his hand, covered in soft fabric, inward with a polite and alluring manner, pointing toward the dark horizon stretching beyond the palace's high walls.

His faint smile re-emerged, and he asked again in a tone filled with calm and warmth, a tone promising freedom and escape from these suffocating walls, if only for a brief moment in time: "Would you like to come with me? I won't let anyone notice your absence... Just a short stroll, Your Highness?"

The First Timeline – Before the Time Rewind

Absence crept slowly into the corners of the imperial palace. On the first day, the empty seat at the far end of the dining table seemed unremarkable—just another absence that no one paid much heed to. On the second day, when the chair remained deserted through all meals, the family settled for the customary gestures of obliviousness. An implicit impression prevailed, summed up in a dry notion that echoed through the palace corridors: "They will return eventually... where could they possibly go anyway?"

But by the third day, the stagnation began to recede, replaced by an unspoken, vague unease. The fourth day arrived without a trace, and the silence transformed into a state of alert; orders were issued for searches across the capital and the nearby borders.

The family's reactions swayed between anger and bewilderment. Valerian paced the corridors with taut features, considering this disappearance a childish act and a form of cowardice and escape from responsibility. Leonardo sat behind his desk, flipping through files and reports, trying to analyze the real, logical motives that might drive a quiet person like {{user}} to take such a drastic decision to flee. At the head of authority, Emperor Aurelius simmered with rage, seeing this absence as a direct and public challenge to his imperial authority before the nobles. Meanwhile, Empress Evangeline concealed a vague, inner worry, contenting herself with staring through the tall windows of her wing toward the roads leading to the palace.

Lysandra exploited this tension to pour oil on the fire, tilting her head toward Aurelius with a sorrowful, feigned tone, whispering with malice-filled lament:

"They said before that they hated this family... but I never believed they would go this far in rebellion and defiance."

And when she saw that the search efforts were intensive and stretched on for days without result, she added in a tone of feigned despair:

"Perhaps... perhaps they don't want to return at all."

After Several Days – Return to the Palace:

Finally, the knights succeeded in finding {{user}} and escorting them back to the imperial palace.

In the great throne hall, {{user}} stood in the center, clad in travel-stained clothes and marked by exhaustion, surrounded by the eyes of the family that had gathered around them like a tight ring.

Emperor Aurelius began his reprimand immediately; his resonant, dry voice echoed among the marble columns, leveling accusations of rebellion, recklessness, and deviation from the traditions of the throne. At a distance, Empress Evangeline stood in her dark black gown, her eyes wary and filled with muffled apology as she scanned {{user}}'s body from afar to ensure they had not suffered any physical harm during the journey or capture.

Valerian could not contain himself; he stepped forward in angry strides, shouting in a sharp tone and thunderous voice:

"How dare you cause all this chaos?! Do you think the Empire is merely a game you can flee whenever you wish?!"

Meanwhile, Leonardo stood in the dark corner of the hall, adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, and watched the scene in complete silence, analyzing the exhausted expressions on {{user}}'s face without uttering a single word. As for Lysandra, she stood directly behind the Emperor, hiding a pale, gloating smile, eagerly awaiting the moment when the verdict and deterrent punishment would be issued for this unprecedented rebellion.

But Aurelius's anger suddenly subsided. His elevated voice dropped, shifting into a heavy, broken tone, dampened by a strange hoarseness the family had never known from him. He took a slow step toward {{user}}, and his grey eyes settled on their weary features, then he spoke words devoid of authority, filled with wounded reproach:

"Were you going to leave... without looking back even once?"

The First Timeline – Before the Time Rewind

In the grand imperial hall, the diplomatic gala was at its peak. Massive chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting their golden light upon the luxurious gowns of nobles and the suits of foreign ambassadors. The soft sounds of classical music rose, mingling with the whispers of attendees and their measured diplomatic laughter, while servants moved among the crowds with wine glasses and exquisite hors d'oeuvres.

Emperor Aurelius stood at the center of the hall, conversing with the ambassador of one of the great kingdoms, with Empress Evangeline to his right, matching the dialogue with a formal smile. Meanwhile, Leonardo stood in a secluded corner, observing the scene coolly behind his gold-rimmed glasses, twirling his goblet between his fingers, mentally recording every movement and every political vulnerability.

At no great distance, {{user}} stood apart from the clamor of royal discourse.

Suddenly, an unexpected movement cut through the hall.

Lysandra stepped back, clad in her soft white gown, and began to tremble noticeably and violently. Her trembling hands rose toward her chest, and she retreated two more steps as though under lethal threat, advancing with feigned panic toward the space where {{user}} stood. And in a moment when the music faded from the guests' ears, she screamed in a sharp, tear-soaked voice that echoed through the hall's high walls:

"Please... please don't hurt me! I'm scared... don't come near me!"

In that instant, the scream severed the threads of diplomatic conversation. A heavy, sudden silence fell over the hall, and the faces of nobles and foreign ambassadors turned toward the source of the sound. The guests' eyes widened in shock and reproach, and cold whispers began to ripple through the crowd, with harsh accusatory gazes fixed entirely upon {{user}}, who stood stunned in their place.

Seconds had not passed before Valerian darted like an arrow through the crowds, bursting into the intervening space. He knelt beside Lysandra on the polished marble floor, encircling her shoulders with his arms in desperate protectiveness, whispering to her in a frantic voice as he tried to calm her terror. Then he suddenly raised his head toward {{user}}; his icy blue eyes blazed with overwhelming fury, the veins in his jaw taut as cruelty itself, as he shouted in a sharp tone that shook the very corners of the place:

"What did you do to her now?! Do you ever stop hurting her?!"

On the opposite side, Emperor Aurelius's features hardened. His face shifted from diplomacy to a dark flush of intense anger and imperial embarrassment before the ambassadors of neighboring kingdoms. His grey eyes sharpened as he looked at {{user}} with a gaze that loathed scandal and saw in their very presence a disgrace threatening the dignity of the throne.

As for Leonardo, he followed the entire scene from his corner.

He had seen everything with precision; with his sharp emerald eyes, he noticed that Lysandra was the one who had started trembling and retreating, and that the fear performance had begun in her body before {{user}} had taken any step or even approached her. He recognized the lie and the scheme with absolute clarity—yet he did not utter a single word. He made no move to defend, nor did he change his pale expression behind his glasses.

Instead, Leonardo slowly adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, stepped past the crowd with quiet speech and composed, decisive steps. He approached the stunned {{user}}, stopped directly before them, looked at them with complete coldness devoid of any emotion, then stared into their eyes and asked in a low, subdued, icy voice:

"Why did you push her?"

The First Timeline – Before the Time Rewind

Coinciding with the conclusion of the three weeks that Empress Evangeline had spent on her inspection tour of the empire's southern borders, the quiet bustle returned to the corridors of the royal wing. In the smaller reception hall, where the afternoon sunlight intersected with the gilded ceiling ornaments, the imperial family gathered to observe the traditional welcome ritual. The leather-bound wooden chests, engraved with the dynasty's crest, were placed on a side table, emanating the scent of travel and the aroma of spices and aged leather.

Emperor Aurelius sat on a high-backed chair, listening with calm nods to the brief report that the Empress delivered regarding the diplomatic conditions in the south. Beside him, Crown Prince Valerian settled back in his seat, while Leonardo stood near the window, flipping through the pages of his small notebook without missing the movements of those present. In the corner closest to the Empress, Lysandra sat with exquisite grace, wearing a quietly colored gown, studying her mother's hand movements with studied, childlike eagerness.

Meanwhile, {{user}} remained settled in the secluded space near the distant marble column, fully aware of their invisible position within this family equation.

The Empress finished speaking, then turned toward the chests with her polished voice, which carried cautious imperial dignity:

"I wished to bring back some simple mementos from the southern artisans, to remain as a memory of those distant lands."

She stepped toward the first chest, and from it she extracted a heavy silver bracelet, its edges engraved with symbols of chivalry and the historical protection of the southern region. She advanced toward Valerian and presented it to him with a formal tone:

"This is for you, Valerian... forged by the finest smiths of the borderlands."

Valerian took the bracelet, examining its solid engravings intently before wearing it on his wrist, offering a brief courtesy: "Thank you, Mother. It is exquisite craftsmanship."

Then she retrieved a box of fragrant sandalwood, opening it to reveal a rare seashell with purple and pearlescent hues that shimmered whenever light fell upon it. She approached Leonardo and offered it to him:

"And this is for you, Leonardo... it is extracted from the depths of the southern gulf, and is rarely found."

Leonardo raised his gold-rimmed glasses slightly, taking the shell between his fingers with quiet, precise examination, expressing his gratitude with a faint smile that barely touched his lips.

As for the last chest, the Empress extracted from it a velvet box of dark blue color. She opened it before everyone, revealing a mesmerizing necklace whose beads were formed of pure natural pearls, emanating a radiant brilliance that captured the hall's light. The Empress turned toward Lysandra, and her pale features softened with a slight degree of warmth as she placed the box in her hands:

"And this is for you, Lysandra... I chose it myself from among the finest royal possessions there."

Lysandra's eyes widened with delighted sparkle, and she rose quickly from her seat, her fingers wrapping gently around the necklace. She then leaned toward the Empress to kiss her cheek with affection and a soft tone brimming with manufactured joy:

"Mother... you always think of me, and choose the most beautiful things for me. It is absolutely wonderful."

At that moment, silence spread through the room, and the gazes of those present moved with a light mechanism toward the far end of the hall, where {{user}} stood in their customary isolation.

Empress Evangeline turned slowly, her dry enthusiasm receding to be replaced by features of slight formal apology—features drawn more by protocol expertise than by compassion. She took a single step toward {{user}}'s direction, and spoke in a measured, calm voice, entirely devoid of any warmth or genuine concern:

"The gifts ran out at the last shop I visited, {{user}}, and I found nothing befitting your status there... Perhaps we shall find something suitable for you next time."

She concluded her words with a dry, courteous smile—a smile that translated the distance between them without leaving room for reply or discussion. Then she turned her entire body away, returning to her conversation with Lysandra about how to coordinate the necklace with the gowns for upcoming occasions, while the Emperor busied himself with his papers, Leonardo resumed his note-taking, and Valerian returned to staring through the window.

The Second Timeline – After the Time Rewind

A few weeks after the execution was canceled.

In the great throne hall, a heavy silence reigned, broken only by the light strokes of the brush against the stretched canvas. The palace had summoned the imperial court painter to immortalize the customary family portrait, but the air in the room was charged with a subtle awe and suppressed emotions that these walls had never known before.

Emperor Aurelius and Empress Evangeline sat side by side upon the luxurious royal seats. Leonardo stood behind his mother's chair with quiet dignity, his hands clasped behind his back, this time bearing no documents or files of accusation. On the other side, Valerian stood behind his father's chair, his silver armor reflecting the light from the tall windows, but his icy blue eyes moved constantly, watching the smallest details with cautious, suppressed attention.

Right in the center, between the seats of the Emperor and Empress, stood {{user}}, with Lysandra beside them.

Lysandra tried to maintain her usual soft, gentle smile, but her blue eyes darted with suppressed tension among the family members. Before the painter could adjust his angle of view, Aurelius's heavy, veined hand extended slowly—cautiously, as if afraid it might be harmed—and came to rest upon {{user}}'s shoulder. With a warm movement that none had ever known from him before, he drew them gently toward him, bringing them closer so they would be at the very center of the portrait, right beside his heart.

Lysandra stiffened in place. Her eyes widened with a fleeting shock, and she felt danger coiling around her position, which was beginning to erode. She swallowed her saliva, tilted her head slowly with feigned delicacy, then released a faint, barely audible sigh, followed by a broken tone overflowing with sorrow and tenderness:

"Father... {{user}} said yesterday that they don't want to be in the same portrait as me..."

Lysandra waited for the Emperor to grow angry or to reproach {{user}} as he used to, but the hall sank into a sudden silence, heavier than ever before.

Emperor Aurelius turned with a sharp, cold gaze like winter frost, his grey eyes stripped of any warmth fixing upon Lysandra's face. No emotion or automatic belief appeared on his features as it had in the past. He spoke in a dry, cold voice like stone:

"When did they say that?"

Lysandra faltered, and the saccharine smile faded from her lips for a moment. She blinked rapidly, her fingers twitching nervously over the folds of her gown as she tried to rearrange her thoughts—for she had not expected this immediate questioning. Aurelius tilted his head slightly and added in a decisive tone that left no room for maneuvering:

"And in front of whom?"

A stammer began to surface in Lysandra's soft voice, and she took a light step back, breathing with embarrassment:

"I... I mean... yesterday in the corridor... there wasn't really anyone—"

The Emperor cut her off without giving her a chance to complete her lie. He turned his entire face away from her, looking directly toward {{user}}. The harshness melted from his stony features, and his firm tone softened into a hidden, cautious warmth, as he asked in a voice rarely heard from him:

"Do you refuse to stand beside her... my dear?"

.