Chapter 1

You can do this, she told herself. For Leo.

Her brother’s last letter had arrived three months ago, postmarked from this very academy. Then silence. The royal court of her kingdom had dismissed her concerns with polite indifference, so she had cashed in her mother’s jewelry, packed a single bag, and crossed two borders to get here. Now she was a transfer student, a fallen baron’s daughter from a forgotten kingdom, standing at the doorstep of the empire’s most prestigious institution.

“Move, please.”

Aria stepped aside just in time to avoid a collision with a student who breezed past without a second glance. The courtyard buzzed with groups of students, their conversations a mix of Korean and English, their uniforms immaculate. Everyone seemed to know exactly where they belonged. Aria felt like a stray cat in a palace of peacocks.

She followed the signs to the administrative building, her heels clicking against the polished stone path. The autumn air carried the scent of fallen ginkgo leaves and something sweet from the campus café. She tried to memorize the layout—main hall to her left, library straight ahead, what looked like a training field beyond the east wing—but the campus was overwhelming, a labyrinth of tradition and power.

The receptionist at the front desk barely looked up when Aria presented her documents. “You’re in House Cassiopeia. Dormitory C, Room 204. Orientation packet is on the table. Next.”

House Cassiopeia. The constellation of the queen. Aria had read about the academy’s house system during the long train ride from the coast. Each house had its own reputation, and Cassiopeia was known for... ambition, according to the guidebooks. And for producing the empire’s elite.

She gathered her packet and made her way to the dormitory, a stately building with ivy climbing its stone walls. Room 204 was small but tidy—a single bed, a desk, a window overlooking the courtyard. She set her bag at the foot of the bed and sat down, letting the silence settle around her.

Leo, where are you?

The question had no answer. Not yet.

A knock on the door made her jump. She opened it to find a girl with bright eyes and a cascade of dark curls, wearing a uniform identical to hers but with a silver pin shaped like a crescent moon.

“You’re the new transfer, right? I’m Yuna. Your roommate.” She grinned, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “Everyone’s talking about you. A foreign noble from some fallen kingdom. Is it true you don’t have any servants?”

Aria forced a smile. “It’s true. I travel light.”

“Interesting.” Yuna flopped onto her own bed, which was already covered in plush pillows and fairy lights. “Well, welcome to the madhouse. Orientation is in an hour. I’ll walk you over. But fair warning—the Crown Prince will be there, so everyone’s going to be on their best behavior.”

“The Crown Prince?”

“Kang Min-hyuk. Heir to the empire. Arrogant, gorgeous, and absolutely untouchable. He’s in House Draco, of course. They’re all cold-blooded over there.” Yuna leaned in conspiratorially. “Rumor says he’s looking for someone to fill his inner circle this year. Everyone’s desperate to catch his eye.”

Aria nodded, filing the information away. She wasn’t here to catch anyone’s eye. She was here to find her brother.

The orientation hall was a cavernous space lined with banners representing each house. Students filled the rows of seats, their voices a low hum of anticipation. Aria sat near the back, Yuna beside her, and tried to focus on the dean’s welcome speech. Something about excellence, tradition, and the honor of studying at the empire’s finest institution.

Then the doors at the back of the hall opened, and the energy shifted.

A group of students entered, and at their center walked a young man who seemed to command the air itself. He was tall, with sharp features and dark eyes that swept the room with practiced indifference. His uniform was tailored to perfection, and a gold pin gleamed on his lapel—a dragon coiled around a crown.

The Crown Prince.

He didn’t look at anyone. He didn’t need to. The room fell into a respectful silence as he took his seat in the front row, his companions flanking him like guards.

Aria’s heart pounded. She had seen royalty before, back in her own kingdom. But this was different. This was power, raw and unapologetic. And he was exactly as Yuna had described: arrogant, gorgeous, untouchable.

She looked away, focusing on the dean’s speech again. I’m not here for him.

After orientation, the crowd spilled into the courtyard for a welcome reception. Tables laden with refreshments lined the paths, and clusters of students formed and dissolved like waves on a shore. Aria stuck close to Yuna, who seemed to know everyone.

“That’s Park Seo-joon, head of House Pegasus. And over there, Lee Soo-ah, she’s the top scholar in House Andromeda. And—” Yuna stopped, her eyes widening. “Oh. He’s coming this way.”

Aria turned to see the Crown Prince walking directly toward them. His gaze was fixed on her, and she felt the weight of every eye in the courtyard follow his path.

He stopped a few feet away, his expression unreadable. “You’re the transfer from the northern kingdom.”

It wasn’t a question. Aria straightened her spine. “Yes. I’m Aria Chen.”

“Chen.” He said her name as if tasting it. “A fallen baron’s daughter. What brings you to the Imperial Academy?”

My brother. The brother who disappeared on your campus. But she couldn’t say that. Not yet.

“I wanted a better education,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “The academy’s reputation speaks for itself.”

A flicker of something—amusement? interest?—crossed his face. “Indeed it does. I trust you’ll find your time here... enlightening.”

He held her gaze for a moment longer, then turned and walked away, his companions falling into step behind him. The courtyard buzzed with whispers.

Yuna grabbed Aria’s arm. “He talked to you. The Crown Prince talked to you. Do you know how many people would kill for that?”

Aria’s stomach twisted. She didn’t want his attention. She wanted answers. But she had the sinking feeling that the two were about to become dangerously entangled.

Later that evening, as she walked back to her dormitory alone, a figure stepped out of the shadows near the library. Another student, tall and lean, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He wore a silver pin—House Lyra, the harp.

“Aria Chen,” he said, his voice low. “I couldn’t help but notice your conversation with the Crown Prince. He doesn’t usually bother with transfers.”

She stopped, wary. “And you are?”

“Kim Jae-won. Second son of House Lyra.” He inclined his head. “I have information that might interest you. About your brother.”

Aria’s breath caught. “What do you know?”

“Meet me tomorrow. Midnight. The east garden.” He turned and disappeared into the night, leaving her standing alone under the flickering lamplight.

Her heart raced. She had come here for answers, and now she had a lead. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had just stepped into a game much larger than she had anticipated—and that the Crown Prince’s sudden interest was only the beginning.

She looked up at the academy’s clock tower, its hands inching toward the next hour, and whispered into the darkness, “I’m coming, Leo. I promise.”

Above her, the stars of Cassiopeia glittered cold and distant, as if they too were watching.