As a mother, there was really only one thing you could ever truly wish for your children—their happiness and success.

For Krista, this wasn’t just a warm sentiment.

It was a conviction forged through hardship. She hadn’t been born into wealth or privilege.

She climbed her way up, one step at a time, through struggle, sacrifice, and relentless perseverance.

It was because of that journey that she understood better than most the weight the world could place on a person.

And it was precisely because of that understanding that she had sworn, long ago, that her children would never carry the same burdens she had.

If she could lighten their path, even a little, then she would.

That was why she spent so many years carefully nurturing their talents, guiding them with discipline, structure, and—admittedly—lessons that, to a child’s mind, might have felt irritating, overly strict, or entirely unnecessary.

She could admit that now.

Her methods hadn’t always been gentle.

But they had always come from love.

Fortunately… she had been blessed.

Her children were good.

Kind, understanding, even if occasionally rebellious.

And among them, Riley—her eldest—had always stood out.

Even from a young age, there was a strange maturity about him, a sense of quiet thoughtfulness that most children his age didn’t possess.

He had always listened. He had always understood. More than that, he had always cared.

That was why Krista had trusted him the most.

Why she had invested in him—not just with the ordinary lessons of etiquette, nobility, or magic—but with the harder, more delicate ones. Lessons about people.

Lessons about relationships. Lessons about love.

Yes, it might’ve seemed strange to others—unusual, even—for a mother to sit down with her son and talk seriously about matters of the heart at such an early age. But Krista had deemed it necessary.

Because from the very beginning… Riley’s life had never been ordinary.

And the person he was inadvertently tied to from the start—Lady Liyana, the Duke’s daughter, practically raised alongside him, with affections far deeper than mere childhood friendship—made things complicated.

Krista remembered the conversation clearly. It was just after Liyana had started showing the earliest signs of innocent attachment, always clinging to Riley, always looking for him, always smiling a little too brightly when he was near.

It had worried her.

And so, with all the seriousness she could muster, she sat Riley down and said gently:

“Remember, Riley… You must promise me—never do anything that might hurt Lady Liyana. A girl’s heart is far more fragile than you realize.”

He had blinked at her then, with wide eyes and quiet understanding, and said:

“Okay, Mom. I promise.”

That moment had stayed with her.

Not just because of his words, but because of the way he said them.

Softly. Genuinely. Without hesitation.

And so Krista believed in him.

She trusted that no matter what happened in the years to come, Riley would keep that promise. That he would never make a mistake that might ruin the affection, admiration, and trust Liyana—had given him.

But now…

Now, standing in her own home, staring at three of the most prominent and powerful young women in the empire, each one with a very obvious claim to her son’s affection…

She felt a sudden weight tighten in her chest.

Why?

Why was he entangled in these unnecessary relationships?

…

“Hngh…!”

A low groan escaped her lips as her eyelids fluttered open.

A dull, throbbing ache pulsed behind her eyes. Her vision blurred slightly before settling into focus, the soft glow of familiar curtains and furniture coming into view.

Krista slowly pushed herself up with trembling arms, her head still spinning.

“Where…?”

A voice, full of relief and worry, answered before she could piece together her surroundings.

“Ah, you’re awake, Mom!”

Krista turned toward the voice and found herself staring at Reina’s anxious face, her daughter’s eyes glassy with emotion.

Only then did she realize—this was her room. Her own bed. The sheets smelled faintly of her perfume, the window cracked open just enough for the cold breeze to slip in.

“What… happened?” she asked, still dazed.

Without answering right away, Reina lunged forward and wrapped her arms tightly around Krista’s waist, resting her head just beneath her mother’s chest, her voice slightly muffled.

“Huaaah… I was really worried, you know! You just suddenly fainted like that—if I hadn’t caught you in time, you could’ve hit your head even harder!”

Krista blinked, startled by the sudden embrace.

But then she raised her hand instinctively, placing it atop her daughter’s head. Her brows furrowed as Reina’s words sank in.

“Fainted…?”

She brought a hand to the back of her head—and winced.

There it was.

A small, tender bump nestled at her scalp. The ache behind her temples deepened slightly as if to confirm the truth she hadn’t yet accepted.

She had fainted.

But why?

What had she seen that was so shocking it made her collapse on the spot?

Her thoughts swam, blurred around the edges by fatigue and the haze of memory, until—

Ah. Yes. That ridiculous vision. That strange and oddly vivid dream.

A small chuckle escaped her lips, delicate and slightly embarrassed.

“It’s alright, Reina. It wasn’t your fault…” she said, stroking her daughter’s hair to soothe her. “It must’ve been the stress. I suppose I became lightheaded from all the work lately. Honestly, I even had the strangest dream…”

She let out a soft, tired laugh as she leaned back on her pillows.

“Get this— I dreamt that Princess Snow, along with two stunningly beautiful girls, came to our estate and were calmly seated at our guest table as if this were completely normal. Can you believe that? I must be more stressed about your brother’s love life than I realized! Imagining something so ridiculous—”

“But… they’re really here, Mom.”

Krista blinked.

“…I beg your pardon?”

Reina pulled back slightly, looking up with an awkward smile, her tone carefully cautious.

“Princess Snow… along with Senior Alice and Senior Rose. They’re actually here. Right now. In our guest room.”

The room fell silent.

The blood drained from Krista’s face.

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. For a moment, it looked like she might faint again, her hand instinctively grabbing at the edge of the blanket to steady herself.

“…You’re not joking?”

“I wouldn’t dare. Especially not about this.”

Krista stared blankly at the far wall.

…

‘Why are they here…?’

That question echoed in Krista’s mind like a drumbeat.

Outside, the snow continued to fall in delicate flurries, layering the garden in a pure white stillness.

It should have been peaceful—a beautiful winter morning—but inside their home, the air felt stifling, heavy with a pressure she couldn’t explain.

Even though the fireplace crackled softly nearby and the air was pleasantly warm, Krista felt a chill running down her spine.

This wasn’t an ordinary visit.

And no amount of fresh tea or polite smiles could convince her otherwise.

Her hands, folded delicately on her lap, trembled ever so slightly as she sat on the guest room chair, its velvet cushion warm beneath her.

She had done her best to compose herself, brushing her hair and changing into a more appropriate gown the moment she recovered—but still, she felt bare before these girls.

The servants moved about quickly but with carefully measured steps, placing down porcelain teacups and polished trays of delicate sweets.

Even they were tense.

She could see it in the way they avoided direct eye contact, in how they tried to hide their trembling fingers.

Of course, they were nervous.

Anyone would be.

After all—Princess Snow of the empire, was sitting right here in her living room.

Alongside Alice, a prodigy with Archon-level potential, and Rose, a golden-eyed girl whose mana presence nearly made the room hum a genius and an icon as much as the other two.

How could this possibly be real?

Krista inhaled slowly, smoothing her skirt as she addressed the guests before her, forcing a calmness into her voice that she didn’t quite feel.

“I’m terribly sorry for my reaction earlier…” she said, bowing her head slightly in apology. “It seems I was more exhausted than I realized.”

Princess Snow—dressed in pristine, elegant white that matched her hair—offered a soft smile and responded with gentle grace.

“Fufu, there’s no need to apologize, Countess. On the contrary, it’s we who should be expressing regret.”

She then lowered her head, hands folded gracefully on her lap. The movement was so fluid, so sincere, that it caught Krista completely off guard.

“We came without notice and disrupted your day. Such a visit is unbecoming of imperial conduct, especially when it involves the residence of someone as respectable as yourself.”

The other two girls—Alice and Rose—quickly mirrored the princess, lowering their heads in unison with visible fluster.

“P-Please, Your Highness—there’s absolutely no need to bow your head!” Krista said hastily, half-rising from her seat, her eyes wide with panic. “I-I couldn’t possibly accept such a gesture from someone of your stature—”

Snow giggled softly, raising her head and waving one hand in a disarming, almost sisterly way.

“Fufu, it’s quite alright. Truthfully, I insist. We even caused you harm, indirectly. If anything, please consider this our humble apology… and let this moment be forgotten. You needn’t worry. Nothing about today—neither my presence, nor the presence of these two—will ever reach my father’s ears. I promise.”

Krista stared at her in stunned silence.

The grace.

The composure.

The way she held herself without arrogance, yet with the unmistakable dignity of someone born to rule.

Even now, Snow was thinking of her—protecting her from the possibility of scandal or reprimand from the Emperor himself.

“That’s… well… if Your Highness insists…”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep