The plaza was alive.
Not in the refined, curated way of noble gardens—
But in something far louder.
Far messier.
Far more real.
Merchants called out their wares, voices overlapping in a chaotic rhythm.
Children darted between stalls, laughter trailing behind them like ribbons.
The scent of grilled meat, fresh bread, and citrus fruits hung thick in the air, blending into something warm and strangely comforting.
Music drifted from somewhere unseen—
A violin, slightly off-tempo, accompanied by clapping and the occasional cheer.
"...This is nice," Esmeralda murmured, standing just at the edge of the crowd.
"...This is crowded," Belle corrected behind her.
"...Same thing."
Esmeralda adjusted the hood of her cloak—simple, plain, deliberately unremarkable.
For once, she did not shine.
And yet—
She still didn't quite blend in.
Not with the way she stood.
Not with the way she observed everything so carefully.
Not with the quiet confidence that followed her like a shadow.
"...There," she said softly.
Belle followed her gaze.
"...Oh no."
Marcus leaned against a wooden post near a fruit stall, arms crossed, watching the crowd with the detached indifference of someone who had no intention of participating in it.
He looked like he belonged—
And yet—
Not at all.
There was something about him that resisted the noise.
As if he stood apart from it, even while surrounded by it.
"...Found you again," Esmeralda murmured.
And without hesitation—
She walked straight toward him.
Marcus noticed her immediately this time.
Of course he did.
His eyes flicked toward her the moment she stepped into his space.
Recognition followed.
Then—
Annoyance.
"...You again," he said flatly.
"...Me again," she replied just as easily.
She stopped in front of him—close enough to be intentional, far enough to not be improper.
But the lack of hesitation—
That alone was enough.
"...Are you following me?" he asked.
"...That would require effort," she said.
"...This doesn't?"
"...Not particularly."
A child bumped lightly into Esmeralda as he ran past.
She barely moved—only shifting slightly to steady herself, her gaze never leaving Marcus.
He noticed that.
Of course he did.
"...You don't belong here," he said.
"...You said that before."
"...It's still true."
"...And yet, I'm still here."
"...That's the problem."
A vendor nearby raised a skewer of grilled meat toward them.
"Try some! Fresh!"
Esmeralda turned, smiled politely—
"...No, thank you."
Then immediately turned back.
Focused.
Intent.
Marcus exhaled slowly.
"...What do you want?"
She tilted her head slightly, studying him more openly now.
Not flirting.
Not soft.
Just... assessing.
"...You," she said simply.
He went still.
Not visibly—
But something in his gaze sharpened.
"...That's a bad answer."
"...It's an honest one."
"...Those are usually worse."
A breeze passed through the plaza, carrying the scent of citrus and dust.
A loose strand of Esmeralda's hair slipped free, brushing lightly against her cheek.
She didn't move to fix it.
Didn't break eye contact.
"...You look like you're courting me," Marcus said bluntly.
She blinked.
Once.
Slowly.
"...That is deeply offensive."
"...It's accurate."
"...It's not."
"...Then explain it."
She inhaled softly.
Then exhaled.
"...I'm not courting you."
"...Good."
"...I'm trying to recruit you."
That—
Made him pause.
Just slightly.
"...That's worse," he said.
"...It's practical."
"...It's annoying."
"...It's necessary."
The noise of the plaza swelled around them—
Laughter.
Voices.
Movement.
But between them—
Something steadier settled.
Marcus straightened slightly from the post.
Not fully—
But enough to show interest.
"...Who are you?"
Esmeralda smiled faintly.
Not playful.
Not kind.
Just certain.
"...Someone who knows you."
His eyes narrowed.
"...That's not an answer."
"...It's enough of one."
"...It isn't."
She sighed.
Then—
"...Marcus."
The world didn't stop.
But it felt like it did.
A cart rattled past.
A vendor shouted.
Someone laughed nearby.
And yet—
At that exact moment—
Everything between them froze.
"...You shouldn't know that name," he said quietly.
"...And yet I do."
He pushed himself off the post fully now.
Standing straight.
Facing her properly.
"...Say it," he said.
"...Say what?"
"...What you're implying."
She didn't hesitate.
"...You're my uncle."
Esmeralda stood still.
Too still.
Marcus's gaze had not left her.
Not since she said it.
Uncle.
The word lingered in the air like something fragile—dangerous if touched too carelessly.
Belle, on the other hand, looked like she was moments away from collapsing.
"Y-You—what?" Belle stammered, clutching the edge of Esmeralda's sleeve. Her voice trembled between disbelief and panic. "Did you just—did you just say—UNCLE?!"
Esmeralda sighed.
Not out of exhaustion—but out of inevitability.
"Yes," she said calmly, brushing invisible dust from her glove. "That is precisely what I said."
Belle shook her head violently. "No, no, no, that's not—this isn't something you just say casually! Do you even realize what that means?! Does the Duke know?! Does ANYONE know?!"
Her voice rose with each question, earning a few curious glances from passersby.
Esmeralda gently—but firmly—placed a hand over Belle's mouth.
"Compose yourself."
Belle froze.
Marcus let out a quiet chuckle.
Low. Amused. Dangerous.
"Interesting," he murmured.
Esmeralda turned her gaze toward him, meeting his eyes without hesitation.
He was studying her now.
Not as one would look at a nuisance...
But as one would examine a puzzle.
"Let me understand this correctly," Marcus continued, folding his arms. "You approach me in a public plaza, behave as though you're trying to win my favor—badly, I might add—and then reveal that I am, in fact..." He paused, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. "Your uncle?"
Esmeralda did not flinch.
"Yes."
There was no shame in her voice. No doubt.
Only certainty.
Marcus tilted his head slightly. "And why," he asked, his tone dipping just enough to send a chill down Belle's spine, "should I believe you?"
Silence fell.
The wind stirred.
A loose strand of Esmeralda's hair brushed against her cheek—but she did not move to fix it.
Instead, she took a step forward.
"Because," she said quietly, "you left."
Marcus's expression flickered.
Barely.
But she saw it.
"You left the duchy," Esmeralda continued, her voice steady, "before I was old enough to remember you. Before anyone could speak your name without lowering their voice."
Belle's eyes darted between them, utterly lost.
"What... what is happening..." she whispered weakly.
Esmeralda ignored her.
"You abandoned your position," she went on, "your family, and every responsibility tied to your name. And yet..." Her gaze sharpened. "You never severed the blood that binds you to it."
Marcus's smirk faded.
Not completely—but enough.
"...You speak boldly," he said.
"I speak truthfully."
Their eyes locked.
For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.
Then—
Marcus laughed.
It wasn't loud.
But it was genuine.
"Well," he said, exhaling as though amused by something only he understood, "this is certainly more entertaining than I expected today to be."
Belle blinked rapidly. "Entertaining?! ENTERTAINING?! SHE JUST—"
"Belle."
Esmeralda didn't raise her voice.
She didn't need to.
Belle snapped her mouth shut.
Marcus watched this exchange with quiet interest.
"You want something," he said suddenly.
It wasn't a question.
Esmeralda didn't deny it.
"Yes."
"And it involves me returning to the duchy."
"...Yes."
Marcus hummed, tapping his finger lightly against his arm.
"And what makes you think," he said, stepping closer now—close enough that Belle instinctively stepped back—"that I have any desire to return to a place I willingly left behind?"
Esmeralda looked up at him.
Unwavering.
"Because things are no longer the same."
Marcus's gaze sharpened.
"You think I care about 'things'?"
"I think," Esmeralda replied, her voice soft but firm, "that you care more than you allow yourself to admit."
That did it.
For the first time—
Marcus went silent.
Not amused.
Not dismissive.
Just... quiet.
The air between them shifted.
Something unseen—but undeniable—had changed.
Belle clutched her head. "I feel like I'm watching something I absolutely should not be part of..."
Marcus exhaled slowly, then straightened.
"Well," he said, his tone returning to something lighter, though his eyes remained thoughtful, "you've certainly given me something to think about."
Esmeralda said nothing.
She knew better than to push further.
Not now.
Marcus turned slightly, as if preparing to leave.
But then—
He paused.
"...Esmeralda, was it?"
She nodded.
His lips curved faintly.
"Be careful," he said. "Curiosity can be... dangerous."
Esmeralda smiled.
Not sweetly.
Not innocently.
But knowingly.
"I could say the same to you."
Marcus chuckled under his breath.
And then—
He walked away.
Leaving behind more questions than answers.
Belle immediately grabbed Esmeralda by the shoulders.
"my lady.... WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!"
Esmeralda glanced toward the direction Marcus disappeared, her expression unreadable.
"...Progress."