Ambiguous Feelings, Wanting to See the Face Beneath the Mask

Serena leaned against Lance Quinn's chest, staring at him in a daze. Surrounded on all sides, she felt that Lance gave her a strangely familiar sensation.

Though his aura was different, the feeling he gave her was the same.

She hadn’t thought about it before, but after hearing so much about 'substitutes' from Princess Consort of Chun today, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander.

With a beauty in his arms, Lance Quinn had no intention of playing the gentleman and pushing her away. Instead, he lowered his voice and asked by her ear, 'What’s wrong?'

His warm breath tickled her ear, sending tingles down her spine and nearly making Serena lose her balance. She swallowed and cursed herself for being seduced by good looks yet again.

Serena quickly pushed Lance away and steadied herself. 'I'm fine. Thanks for just now.'

If she kept falling into men’s arms like this, people might think she was desperate to throw herself at them. Serena secretly scolded herself: from now on, she had to keep her distance from any man except Ninth Royal Uncle, and avoid unnecessary physical contact.

Ambiguity like this could be fatal.

Lance glanced at his now-empty hands, a hint of disappointment flashing across his face, though he pretended not to care. 'No worries. The roads in Prince Chase’s Manor aren’t exactly safe—be careful and stay behind me.'

Lance’s words carried a double meaning. Serena nodded repeatedly, but her mind was already spinning—should she find a way to get Lance to take off his mask and let her see his face?

If you suspect something, you have to go and find out.

Serena stood in place, wondering if Lance would agree if she asked him directly.

Lance was almost at the mourning hall when he turned to find Serena hadn’t followed. Worried something had happened, he hurried back, only to see her spacing out. He frowned, 'Serena, you’re zoning out at a time like this?'

They were sneaking into Prince Chase’s Manor’s mourning hall at night, surrounded by guards. Serena was actually dawdling right now—did she have a death wish?

'I... I was just thinking about something.' Caught in the act, Serena was embarrassed and quickly made up an excuse.

'Thinking? What could be so important to think about right now?' There’s a time and place for daydreaming.

Since Lance asked, Serena didn’t hold back. 'I was wondering what your face looks like under the mask.'

'Oh? You want to see what I look like under the mask?' Lance’s lips curled into a smile, though the mask hid it from Serena.

Serena nodded honestly, only to get a mocking laugh from Lance. 'I thought you’d never be interested in how I look.'

Serena quickly shook her head. 'Of course not! I’ve always been curious—it’s just... since you wear a mask, I figured you didn’t want anyone to know, so I never pushed.'

Everyone has curiosity—she was only human, just better at controlling herself. Normally, she’d never let her curiosity show.

'Really? I never noticed you were curious about my looks.' Lance said with self-mockery. 'Serena, we’ve known each other for over a year, and this is the first time you’ve asked. Or is it because you think I’m like Ninth Royal Uncle in some ways?'

You couldn’t blame Lance for overthinking—it was just...

Serena had never said something like this just to satisfy her own curiosity.

'I admit, that’s part of it. You just feel so familiar to me—I keep thinking I’ve seen you without the mask, but I don’t know who you are.' The half of Lance’s face she could see was striking, but Serena still couldn’t picture his full appearance.

That half of his face... was beautiful, but somehow impossible to remember.

Lance smiled, and while Serena was distracted, he spun her around and pulled her into the corner, slipping into the shadows himself. One hand braced against the wall, he trapped Serena in the corner.

'What are you doing?' They were so close she could hear his heartbeat. Serena grew flustered, not knowing why Lance was suddenly acting so ambiguous.

'It’s easier to talk here, and we don’t have to worry about being seen.' It was a blind spot—unless a guard deliberately passed by, no one would notice them.

Serena quietly let out a breath; she’d been afraid Lance was about to silence her for good. 'If you want to talk, just talk—why get so close?'

She was practically pressed against the wall—the pose was way too ambiguous, just like one of those cheesy romance dramas where the cool, wild male lead flirts with the clueless heroine.

'You said I seemed familiar, right? If we don’t get close, how can you compare and figure out who I look like?' Lance said, but he still stepped back.

Whew... Serena finally got a breath of fresh air, no longer inhaling only Lance’s scent.

Lance looked at Serena with amusement. 'Serena, do you really want to know what I look like under the mask?'

Of course she wanted to! Why else would she ask? It wasn’t like she was overly curious. She wanted to say this, but just opened her mouth and swallowed it back, switching to: 'If it’s convenient, I’d love to see. But if it’s not, that’s fine—there’ll be other chances.'

There was plenty of time—she’d get her chance eventually. Worst case, next time Lance got hurt, she’d sneak a peek while treating him under anesthesia.

'So you’re not desperate to see it right now. In that case, I won’t force you.' Lance let go of Serena, signaling the conversation was over, and headed toward the mourning hall.

It wasn’t that Lance refused to show her—Serena just hadn’t insisted enough.

Not forcing me? I really do want to see!

Serena watched Lance’s back, regretting it deeply. If she’d known he was so eccentric, she would’ve just reached out and taken off the mask herself.

She’d missed a golden opportunity—next time, it might not be so easy.

Serena sighed to herself, seeing Lance’s unyielding attitude. She could only swallow her ambition and obediently follow him toward the mourning hall.

But just as they were about to reach it, three shadowy figures darted into the mourning hall ahead of them.

Through the window, Serena saw the watchers inside stand up. Before they could make a sound, they collapsed, their bodies dragged aside.

The hall fell silent. The three figures gathered in the center, likely examining Princess Yara’s body.

Lance immediately pulled Serena into hiding. 'Looks like plenty of people are suspicious about Princess Yara’s death.'

'Princess Yara was married to Eastlyn for less than half a year before dying. Anyone with a brain would be suspicious.' Serena wasn’t surprised—Westlyn certainly wouldn’t believe the suicide story.

'A foreign princess dying mysteriously in Eastlyn is a golden opportunity. Even if Princess Yara really did kill herself, Westlyn will insist she was murdered by Eastlyn.' Lance watched the figures in the hall, deep in thought.

'Opportunity? What opportunity?' Serena frowned uneasily.

Could it be that the world was about to descend into chaos again...