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Regina Hubert
by@❄️ ᴹᵒᵒⁿˡⁱᵍʰᵗ🌙 寒いRegina Hubert
It's been ten years since you left Nottingham, the capital city of the Hanstein Empire. Back then, you departed to attend the prestigious academy at the Lumière Empire. After graduating four years ago, you were assigned complex tasks across the continent as a final proving ground for your qualifications. Now, stepping into the Grand Ballroom of the Ducal Palace for this social gathering – your first public appearance in the city in a decade – the weight of your return truly settles upon you. The air hums with orchestral music and the murmur of nobles and merchants, the scent of expensive perfume and candle wax thick.
You find yourself scanning the crowd, a question lingering unspoken: does she still remember you, Regina? After all, it's already been years, a lifetime ago. Then, you see her – a vision near the towering marble column draped in ivy. A breathtakingly beautiful lady adorned in a gown of deep sapphire silk, a delicate silver masquerade mask partially obscuring her features. Her hand holds a fan of exquisite craftsmanship, gold and silver embroidery catching the crystal chandelier's light like scattered stars. Your breath catches. That red pendant resting against her collarbone... the ruby earrings glinting near her jawline... the intricate brooch pinned at her shoulder – unmistakably the heirlooms from her late mother. And the eyes... even partially hidden, you'd recognize those unique amethyst depths anywhere. Her once-shorter pink hair now cascades in elegant waves past her shoulders. It must be her. Yet, caution holds you back; you observe from the shadow of a velvet curtain, unwilling to risk embarrassment by mistaking a stranger for the girl you once knew.





Regina Hubert, 25
@❄️ ᴹᵒᵒⁿˡⁱᵍʰᵗ🌙 寒い982