It had been two days since Kieran first noticed Lunette calling him "Father." At first, he was caught off guard, unsure how to react. He had always seen her as his responsibility, but hearing her say the word with such casual warmth made something stir in his heart. Amused by the idea, he decided not to bring it up, letting it settle into their dynamic naturally. Lunette, now with her long, flowing white hair, often looked at him with a mixture of trust and affection. For her, Kieran had become the closest thing to a father she had ever known, and she embraced it wholeheartedly.
One crisp morning, Lunette decided to sneak out of the manor without informing Kieran. The ball was approaching—an event where Kieran would finally introduce her to the nobles as his son, not his daughter. Lunette had heard the whispers in the halls, the intrigue surrounding the elusive "son" of Duke Kieran. No one had seen him, but the rumor of his existence had been carefully nurtured for years. Though she didn't yet know the full scope of their revenge plan, she understood this charade was a necessary part of it.
Still, the thought of pretending to be someone she wasn't weighed heavily on her. She knew this might be her last chance to go out into the world as herself, a girl, even if only for a brief moment.
Pulling one of her father's large black cloaks from his wardrobe, she wrapped it around herself, the fabric engulfing her petite frame. The hood concealed her face, and the length of the cloak covered her distinctive scales and wings. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror—a shadowy figure with no discernible features.
"I look just like Father when he's being shady," she muttered with a smirk before slipping out of the manor unnoticed.
Her plan was simple: buy a gift for her father's birthday. Over the years, Kieran had done so much for her—training her, feeding her, giving her a sense of family. She wanted to return the gesture with something meaningful, something that would show her gratitude.
The bustling streets of the capital welcomed her as she blended into the crowd. Vendors shouted about their wares, children laughed and played in the alleys, and the scent of freshly baked bread filled the air. It was a lively, vibrant world that Lunette rarely got to experience.
She moved quickly, her hood pulled low to avoid drawing attention. Though her heart raced with excitement, a part of her remained cautious. She couldn't afford to be recognized or noticed.
As she wandered through the market, her mind whirled with ideas. What could she possibly get for Kieran, a man who had everything? She passed by stalls selling trinkets, books, and fine clothing, her thoughts racing.
This was her moment of freedom, her last time outside as Lunette, before the ball would mark her introduction to the world as Ciro, the mysterious heir to the Duke of Eloora.
But deep in her mind, one question lingered. Why does Father want me to pretend to be his son? What is his true plan for the ball?
With that thought gnawing at her, Lunette tightened her grip on the cloak and focused on her task. It didn't matter now. What mattered was finding the perfect gift. Everything else could wait.
Lunette entered the bakery, a soft bell ringing above the door as she stepped inside. The smell of freshly baked bread and pastries filled the air, but her eyes were focused on the area where customers could bake their own creations. It was one of her favorite places in the city—a special bakery that offered a unique experience. She had reserved the kitchen ahead of time, knowing exactly what she wanted to make: Kieran's favorite red velvet cake, adorned with a special blend of chocolate and fruits.
She adjusted her mask, making sure her identity was hidden, and walked to the kitchen area. The staff greeted her, and soon, she was left alone with the ingredients, the soft whirr of the mixers and the clinking of baking tools her only company.
For the next hour, she poured all her focus and energy into crafting the perfect cake. As she worked, memories of her time with Kieran flooded back—the laughter they shared when they baked together, the joy in his eyes when he tasted her creations. She had learned much from him over the years, but one thing she hadn't expected to learn was how to bake.
During her brief soul's journey into that anime-loving girl's body, she had discovered the art of baking, a skill that had translated here. Though her knowledge was now far beyond the basics, the joy of making something with her own hands still resonated deeply with her.
Finally, after much effort and care, her masterpiece was ready. The cake sat beautifully on the countertop, covered in rich frosting and drizzled with just the right amount of chocolate. Lunette smiled, a sense of accomplishment swelling in her chest as she carefully prepared to carry it outside.
But just as she turned to leave the bakery, disaster struck. Two boys, seemingly in a rush, collided with her, causing her to stumble backward. She felt herself tipping over, but before she could fall, they each grabbed one of her hands, steadying her.
But her cake—her beautiful creation—did not fare as well. It slipped from her hands and crashed to the floor with a sickening thud, the vibrant red velvet ruined in an instant.
"Are you okay?" one of the boys asked, concern in his voice.
Lunette stared at the ruined cake, her heart sinking. She couldn't believe it. All that effort, all that love, gone in an instant.
"Noooooo, my cake! My hard work!" Lunette wailed dramatically, her voice laced with exaggerated sorrow. Her eyes began to glisten with fake tears, the kind she had perfected during her years with Kieran.
The two boys stood there, frozen in surprise, unsure how to respond to her theatrical outburst. But Lunette didn't care. The cake, her beautiful, perfect cake, was destroyed—and that was all that mattered in that moment.