The light in the changing room was soft and warm.
Rowan stood before the full-length mirror, small hands fidgeting with the collar. The deep crimson velvet gown was embroidered with intricate golden thread along the edges—a tradition passed down through a thousand years of imperial rule. The hastily made garment fit perfectly, every stitch meticulous.
At six years old, the child had yet to grow into her frame. Wrapped in heavy fabric, she looked a bit frail, but there was something imposing about the way she stood there.
Jiang Lijin knelt before her, fingers deftly adjusting the clasp on the cloak. She kept her eyes down, focused on Rowan’s reflection in the mirror, her movements gentle.
"Straighten your back," Chiron said from outside the changing room, his voice steady, with an uncharacteristic edge of severity. "You are the future Emperor of the Empire. Everyone out there is waiting to see you fall. Take one step back, and they will tear you apart."
Rowan took a breath and tried to imitate Jiang Lijin’s usual posture, pushing her small shoulders back and keeping her spine rigid.
"Don’t be too hard on her. She’s only six," Jiang Lijin said lazily, ruffling Rowan’s red hair. "As long as she doesn’t start crying on stage, we’ve already won."
Rowan turned her head, golden eyes sparkling. "Sister, I won’t cry. Mother Empress said tears are the most useless thing."
"Good." Jiang Lijin chuckled, then patted Chiron on the shoulder. "And don’t you be too tense. With us here, even if the sky falls, it won’t hit her."
Chiron straightened up, his gaze falling on Jiang Lijin’s hand resting on his shoulder. The coldness in his gray eyes melted away completely.
"Alright," he replied in a low voice, taking the hand she had placed on his shoulder.
Jiang Lijin didn’t pull away. She let him hold it for three seconds before pushing open the door herself. "Let’s go. Let’s see what grand drama Prince Darren has prepared for us."
——
The main hall of the imperial residence had become an arena of power.
Light refracted through the dome’s stained glass, while currents of treachery churned beneath.
On both sides, the seats were packed with old imperial nobles, the kind who always leaned wherever the wind blew. Most eyes were glued to the entrance, silently guessing whether this suddenly emerged regent-princess would manage to get through today’s ceremony intact.
Steady footsteps echoed across the vast hall.
Jiang Lijin led Rowan down the red carpet, step by step.
Rowan walked with composure. Young as she was, each footfall landed precisely on the beat. Eyes pierced at her from left and right, pressing down like a weight on the six-year-old’s shoulders.
Jiang Lijin’s gaze was fixed straight ahead, her stride casual, as if she were taking her "little brother" for a stroll in the park. She carried the metal briefcase loosely in her other hand, paying no mind to the surrounding stares.
Chiron walked half a step behind, his posture impeccable. The uniform representing the highest rank of the Academy of Sciences lent him an intimidating, stern dignity.
His gaze swept across the crowd. Nobles who had tried to crane their necks quickly averted their eyes, bowing them to the floor.
Reaching the throne, Rowan stopped and turned to face the assembly.
The hall fell dead silent.
Victor, the master of ceremonies, stood on the dais, holding the heavy, gold-rimmed book. His eyes darted toward Prince Darren, seated in the front row, and a thin layer of sweat formed on his forehead. The lengthy eulogy was done. According to protocol, the symbol of power should now be presented.
If it didn’t appear...
Victor’s throat tightened, but his duty forced him to speak. He raised his voice, letting the echo reverberate under the dome.
"May the Chief Secretary of the Cabinet present the Crown of Thorns for the coronation of the Crown Heir."
The moment the words landed, the hall erupted in chaos.
Nobles whispered to one another, the buzz of conversation impossible to suppress.
"Didn’t the Cabinet say they wouldn’t hand over the crown?"
"Just watch the show. Without that crown, this ceremony is a total joke."
"Look at Prince Darren. He’s sitting so steady. He’s clearly dug a pit and is waiting for them to fall in."
Darren sat in the front row, rubbing his finger along the edge of his wine glass.
He had waited for this moment too long. He had even rehearsed his lines. The moment Jiang Lijin came up empty-handed, he would rise and accuse her, grief-stricken and righteous, of flouting imperial tradition—of being unworthy to act as the Crown Heir’s guardian.
The vault theft? So what? Even if Jiang Lijin had somehow whisked the entire display case away, base and all, what did it matter?
That was the Academy’s latest explosion-proof safe. Without his biometric code and a thirty-six-digit dynamic key, forced entry would trigger the high-yield liquid explosive hidden in the casing, turning both the safe and the crown into sludge.
As long as Jiang Lijin produced nothing, Darren could, in front of a galaxy-wide broadcast, shred the legal facade of her guardianship to pieces.
Under the gaze of the multitudes.
Jiang Lijin calmly placed her metal briefcase on the tray beside her.
Click.
The sound of the lock snapping open rang sharp and clear in the silent hall.
She lifted the lid and, with one hand, pulled out a crown of interwoven dark gold vines, studded with pigeon-blood rubies.
No complicated passwords. No blaring alarms. She simply held the supreme symbol of imperial power, as casually as if it were a cheap toy.
Darren’s glass slipped from his hand, shattering against the floor, red wine splattering his shoes.
He shot to his feet, eyes locked on the object in Jiang Lijin’s grip.
How had she opened the safe?
Jiang Lijin didn’t spare him a glance. She turned to face Rowan, her expression, for once, becoming solemn.
Rowan looked up, her golden eyes reflecting the heavy crown.
"No need to trouble the Chief Secretary. As the new Emperor’s guardian, I am fully entitled to place the Crown of Thorns upon her head!"
Jiang Lijin held the crown in both hands and settled it steadily onto Rowan’s red hair. The crown was slightly too large, but the ruby’s radiance blended perfectly with the color of Rowan’s locks.
Victor let out a long breath of relief, the knot in his throat finally loosening.
"Wait—" Howl rushed out from behind Darren, opening his mouth to protest.
"Ceremony complete." Victor responded swiftly, raising his voice to a thunderous level, choking off Howl’s unfinished objection.
A brief pause hung in the hall.
Then, from the left side of the front row, a burst of thunderous applause broke out.
All heads turned. The commander of the Defense Forces stood ramrod straight, clapping hard, his face an iron mask of seriousness.
This old general was inwardly bitter. Tinia held evidence of his embezzlement of military funds and had threatened that if he didn’t cooperate, the whole galaxy would know his scandal by morning. Even if he had ten times the courage, he wouldn’t dare not applaud.
Once the man commanding the Empire’s mightiest army made his stance clear, the wavering nobles scrambled to follow suit. Applause rippled out, spreading from one point until it engulfed the entire hall.
Darren stood paralyzed, his face cycling through shades of red, then white, before settling into a sickly blue.
He had lost. Lost without even a chance to fight back.
Jiang Lijin, holding the crowned Rowan’s hand, looked down upon the assembly from above.
She turned her head and met Chiron’s gaze.
The cold sharpness in his gray eyes had faded, replaced by a comforting warmth.
That damned crown was heavy, wasn’t it?
But from today onward, no one will ever force them to take those off!
