Meet Princess Ame of Japan

Two years later, at sixteen, I received an invitation to visit the Namidai Family—the most powerful branch of the Nami Family—whose members hold royal status in Japan. They resided in Utrecht, the central hub of the Netherlands.

I couldn't help but wonder why they had invited me. But deep down, I had my suspicions. Perhaps they wanted me to join their cause in opposition to the patriarchal Badilite Family.

I rang the doorbell, and a young man, probably a year or two older than me, opened the door. His appearance was mostly Japanese, but his skin was slightly tanned, and his eyes silver in color, suggesting a connection to the Nami Families. He wore a black and gray yukata, exuding an air of sophistication.

"Welcome, Princess Adanna Eleanor van Nassau-Badila," he greeted with a polite bow. "It is an honor and a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Hello, and thank you very much," I replied, grateful for his courtesy. "May I ask your name?"

"I am Yusha," he introduced himself with a smile. "Son of Empress Hitomi and Emperor Hiroki." Their appearance bore no traces of their Badilite roots, aside from their slightly tanned skin and the signature silver eyes that noble Badilites are known for. But their names had no apparent ties to the Badilite culture... or so I thought.

"Please, follow me inside, Princess," Yusha said, gesturing for me to enter.

As I walked behind him, I couldn't help but admire the stunning Japanese-style mansion that the Namidai Family owned. The blend of tradition and elegance was evident in every detail.

"Are your parents here?" I asked, hoping to learn more about the family.

"No, they live in Japan," Yusha replied. "They never visit us here. We usually make the trip to see them."

He led me to a room where two Japanese women dressed me in a beautiful orange and red kimono. The orange symbolized the Dutch Royal House, while the red was a nod to the Badilites.

"You can keep the kimono," Yusha said as I approached him, admiring my reflection in the mirror.

"Thank you," I said, touched by the gesture. "It's truly beautiful, and I can tell it was custom-made for me."

"It's a gift from our family to yours, as a sign of our kinship."

"How long ago did the Exiled Matriarchs come to Asia?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"I'll let my little sister answer that for you," Yusha said with a soft smile.

"Little sister?" I asked, intrigued.

We walked into an exquisite Japanese garden that took my breath away. It was the most serene, carefully designed space I had ever seen, filled with winding paths, tranquil ponds, rocks, and perfectly pruned plants. The space emanated a sense of balance and harmony with nature, as if every element had been placed with intention and care.

At the heart of the garden was a bamboo fountain, known as a shishi-odoshi. The rhythmic sound of the bamboo tipping over and filling with water, then returning upright with a gentle "clink," resonated throughout the garden, adding to the soothing ambiance.

My attention shifted to a slender, graceful Japanese girl watering the cherry blossoms, lotus flowers, and wisteria. She moved with such elegance that she seemed to surpass even Maeve's poise. She wore a kimono that, in my opinion, was even more beautiful than mine.

Together, the bamboo fountain, the blooming flowers, and the neatly arranged stones all came together to create a meditative atmosphere—a reflection of nature's quiet beauty. The scent of the blossoms and the soft murmur of the water blended with the tranquil surroundings, enhancing the sense of peace that pervaded the garden.

To my left, I noticed a dark-skinned girl with very dark gray hair and striking blue eyes, wearing a stunning kimono of black, red, and purple. I hadn't seen her in ten years, but there was no mistaking her. No other girl in the world had gray hair and blue eyes like hers. It had to be Benesha.

"The kimono suits you very well," the girl who had been watering the plants said with a gentle smile.

"Th-Thank you very much!" I stammered, flustered by her praise.

"Come, sit next to our niece, Benesha," she added warmly.

Benesha didn't seem thrilled by the term "niece." She made a small, disdainful sound, clearly uncomfortable with the label. Her eyes flickered with something unspoken, but she said nothing more.