"Do you know what that painting is?"

  Marissa Lombardi, the golden child of a marquis, posed the question. Blessed with a plexion that would make abaster jealous, and the kind of blue eyes and blonde hair that poets would wax lyrical about, she was often touted as the ti's residey queen.

  She was a Vision Art Mage, a title she earned from Saint Lucia Academy. Although her magical prowess was fairly average, she had a ve excuse. After all, juggling politics, social events, and the ey was no easy feat, even for a multitasking prodigy like her.

  As the eldest of five siblings and the most eligible bachelorette in Soulnaught, expectations hung around her like a heavy cloak. But Marissa, ever the perfeist, wore it with grace.

  Perfe, ess, elegahey were not just qualities expected of her, they were her armor. And with time, she had polished this armor to a dazzling shine. So much so, that it was easy tet it was just that - an armor.

  That was until the Marquis dropped the bombshell. Marissa ointed as Emperor Burn's "chatting friend."

  Yes, it was a thing.

  The emperor, for his part, hadn't asked faggle of social butterflies to flutter around him. But the dearth of social events helmed by him had left the nobility in a lurch.

  They were starved for a window into the life of the enigmatic emperor, a man whose love for order and efficy bordered oic.

  And iimes of drastic ges, brought about by pesky spavaders, it aramount to have a man like him at the helm. Predictably, he elevated his kingdom to an empire status a about quering the ti, aiming to uhe world under one banner.

  Before His Majesty asded too high into the realm of power, the nobility o anchor him. Hence, Marissa and her merry band of noblewomen were chosen as this anchor.

  It was a task as nerve-wrag as walking a tightrope over a pit of vipers. Burn was a monarch to be feared, not trifled with. One small misstep, and it was off with their heads.

  After all, what could one expect from an emperor who shielded the world from extraterrestrial attacks and had no qualms about fratricide?

  And so, Marissa climbed the social dder, firmly establishing herself as the emperor's favorite chatmate. After all, she was the perfect blend of intellectual stimution and visual delight, a bination that seemed to suit the emperor's refiastes.

  Everythi swimmingly, until one day, the emperor woke up with a sudden desire to dabble in the fis. He demanded painting supplies, a request as shog as it was baffling. No one khe emperor had an artistie in his body, let alohe ability to wield a paintbrush.

  A week ter, a new painting was unveiled, and uproar ehe emperor, it turned out, wasn't just a ruler and a warrior; he was an artist too.

  And the subject of his painting was a woman of otherworldly beauty.

  Captivating blue eyes, golden blonde locks—

  The moment the painting was revealed, all eyes swiveled towards Marissa, who possessed simir features. Sure, she wasn't as breathtakingly beautiful as the woman in the painting, but then again, who was?

  But you know how men are, right? They alaint the women they fan a more fttering light.

  Despite the gring mismat their facial features, Marissa suddenly became the belle of the ball. Not only was she now sidered prime empress material, she also found herself the hot topic amongst the chattering csses.

  The emperor, in his quest to find the woman he'd painted, had dispatched his men far and wide. Rumor even had it that he'd embarked on a solo expedition to locate her, adding a dash of romao the already tantalizing tale.

  Sure, it was being increasingly clear that Marissa wasn't the woman iion. But why shouldn't it be Marissa? If the emperor couldn't find his mystery muse, wouldn't he eventually settle for a rept?

  After all, he held the whole world in his hands, ripe with potential substitutes.

  Sihe unveiling of the painting, it had bee a perma fixture in the pace. And there was a unanimous sensus among all who saw it.

  The woman in the painting was the yet-to-be-named empress.

  And the day the emperor decided to christen her, it would be the equivalent of announg the name of his future panion.

  "Do YOU know what that painting is?" Marissa's voice echoed through the hall as she repeated herself.

  Momo simply tilted her head, perplexed. "This painting? Yeah I—"

  “If you know, then you must’ve grasped its importance. But you dare to try and sabotage it, right here in the emperor's pace? How audacious one be?!” Marissa seethed.

  Momed nontly, “I mean, I don’t see why he still keeps it on dispy. It's not like it serves any purpose anymore, does it?”

  In a fit e, Marissa lunged forward, yanking off Momo’s veil with a swift, brutal pull. “How presumptuous…!”

  There was a collective gasp.

  The woman in the painting ortrayed as an astronomical beauty. Folks assumed no living being could rival the stunning woman they presumed was a figment of the emperor's imagination.

  Little did they know that the breathing, living version was almost a thousand times more enting than the rendition on vas.

  As Momo's veil was ripped away, her ly tied bun unraveled, letting her hair tumble down in a cascade of entig disarray.

  Who else but her could boast of such thick, long blonde shes? And those delicately arched eyebrows—it was the emperor's painting that paled in parison.

  What kind of blue were those? The blue in her eyes made every other blue hue in the world seem terfeit. And that sculpted face? Why did eveales of elvish and fairy beauty fall short of describing her?

  Standio the painting, it seemed ludicrous to suggest that the womaed was anyone else. However, it did look like the real Momo was the prettier sister of her painted terpart, making the whole situation dht unbelievable.

  "Wh—what sorcery is this?! You dare tort your face to resemble—"

  No.

  Even Marissa, in her disbelief, couldn't detect a hint of transformation or disguise magiomo's stunning face. ed by frustration, she stormed off, her ente of sycophants trailing behind her, leaving a bewildered Momo in their wake.

  "...my veil..." Momo started to protest, but thought better a Marissa go.

  Upon further refleomo recalled how numerous young noblewomen at the ba had magically dyed their hair blonde. Eveher three other than Marissa. She cast a g the painting behind her, and—

  "What the—pfffft—fu—hahahah!"

  She burst into untrolble ughter. "Poor Caliburn..." Momo mao say, clutg her stomach as waves of ughter overtook her. This amusing misuanding was bound to add quite the spice to his romantic life ter.

  "All the more reason to... pffft—take this down..." Momo, still shaking with mirth, mustered her strength once again to remove the painting.

  But her hands gradually came to a halt.

  Still wearing remnants of her ughter on her face, Momo felt a warmth spread across her cheeks. Her striking blue eyes softened, and her smile delicately trembled. So this was how people interpreted Burn's search for her?

  Indeed, it was a misuanding, and the truth would certainly stun them. Yet...

  A maiden’s heart is sometimes easily swayed.