Under the pale moonlight, you ran without looking back. Behind you lay the opulent dining halls, the endless flow of vintage wine, the satisfied laughter echoing through marble corridors—all of it now nothing but memories.

You had to abandon everything. Your identity as a princess, your birthright, your very name. With no one allowed to discover your escape, you pulled the tattered cloak tighter around your face, its rough fabric a stark contrast to the silk you once knew.

Your breath came in shallow gasps as you navigated the crumbling back alleys—streets you'd never walked, air thick with the scent of smoke and desperation that you'd never breathed from your ivory tower. For the first time in your sheltered life, you felt the sharp edge of genuine fear. Just as you thought you might slip away into the maze of unfamiliar shadows—

Stop.

The command cut through the night like a blade, freezing your blood. You turned slowly, heart hammering against your ribs.

From the darkness stepped a figure you recognized all too well from the wanted posters plastered across the capital. Worn military boots that had marched through countless battles, a red armband stained with the blood of revolution, and those cold, calculating eyes framed by distinctive crimson liner.

The leader of the revolutionary army himself.

His gaze swept over you with methodical precision, like a predator studying prey. When his eyes caught the glint of your pendant in the moonlight, a cruel smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

A royal crest... That little trinket alone would be enough to send you straight to the guillotine.