Chapter 02
Her gaze lingered for just a moment.
But to Christine, that moment felt like an eternity.
The Crown Prince, who had briefly passed her by, boarded his carriage and departed. The bustling scene outside the window fell silent as if it had all been a lie, leaving behind nothing but the sound of her own rapidly beating heart.
The Crown Prince was in the audience.
Sitting before her dressing table, Christine untied the ribbon at the end of her braided hair with trembling fingers.
She had been so nervous that she hadn’t seen anything clearly on stage. Up there, she was only Violet, her character.
Did he not enjoy the performance?
Her hand, which had been slowly running through her thick, flowing hair, came to a halt.
Though the moment had been brief and the distance far, the Crown Princes’s piercing gaze was vivid in her memory—cold, like ice crystals in the dead of winter. It was starkly different from the warm impression conveyed by his portraits or tabloid photos.
He must have come expecting to see Fiona Bennett, the prima donna of the Guno Opera House, but instead found some unknown singer on stage. No wonder he was disappointed.
Recalling the audience’s earlier jeers, her fingers grew cold again.
Or maybe he noticed how out of breath I was during the first song because of my nerves.
As the lingering regret swept over her, the door to her dressing room burst open. It must have been Daisy.
Quickly composing her expression, Christine turned toward the open door with a bright smile.
“Dai—”
It wasn’t Daisy.
Fiona Bennett, her luscious red hair elegantly pinned up, strode in with an expression full of fury. Caught off guard by her fiery demeanor, Christine rose from her seat.
“Miss Bennett—”
Before Christine could finish saying her name, a thin, firm hand swung toward her.
The sharp sound of the slap echoed beyond the dressing room, and Christine stumbled.
“Oh my God! Christine!”
Daisy rushed in, horrified.
“Are you okay? What’s the meaning of this, Miss Bennett?”
Daisy, pale with shock, glared at Fiona, practically growling.
“You sneaky little thief. You spiked my tea, didn’t you?”
“That’s ridiculous!”
Daisy retorted, glaring fiercely at Fiona, who looked far from sane with her blazing eyes.
“Otherwise, how else would I get sick to my stomach right before the performance? Hmm?”
As the ringing in Christine’s ears subsided, Fiona Bennett’s sharp voice became all too clear.
“Answer me!”
“I didn’t do such a thing, Miss Bennett.”
Christine lowered her hand from her flushed cheek and replied calmly.
“Then why else would I suddenly get sick? Right at that moment!”
Fiona’s voice rose to a shrill pitch, befitting a soprano.
“Did you covet my place that much? So much that you memorized my entire repertoire? You sneaky thief!”
“I didn’t touch your tea.”
“And you expect me to believe that?”
Fiona sneered and abruptly jabbed her finger at Daisy’s face.
“You. Sing the first aria of Camellia, ‘Ah, Do You Hear Me?’ Let’s hear it.”
“What…?”
Daisy blinked, taken aback by the sudden demand.
“Go on, sing it!”
“Well, that song is…”
Daisy’s lips moved, but no sound came out.
“See? See that? This is normal! And you want me to believe your lies?”
Fiona showed Christine’s shoulder harshly. Christine, steadying herself against the dressing table, accidentally knocked over a bottle of makeup remover. The loud crash accompanied by shattered glass left a wet stain spreading across the luxurious carpet patterned with rose vines.
“You knew the Crown Prince was coming, and you did this on purpose!”
“That’s enough! Stop accusing her without proof!”
Daisy’s angry voice echoed through the hallway.
Christine, however, remained calm—like a still lake.
Christine stayed silent.
She had an unusual gift: she could remember every note, rhythm, lyric, and even the emotions conveyed in a performance after hearing it once.
It was a natural talent, but she didn’t like to show off or give others a reason to envy her. Fiona Bennett, notorious for her temper and grudge-holding, was not someone you wanted to provoke.
This unpleasant situation was something Christine had braced herself for when she agreed to be the understudy.
Fiona glared at Christine with eyes full of hatred. She was still seething. She wanted to strike her again, but the noise had attracted a crowd to the doorway.
“I’ll be back on stage tomorrow. If you dare mess with me again, I won’t let it slide. Understand?”
Fiona yelled, her trembling hands clutching her shawl. Her chest heaved with rage, the deep neckline of her dress rising and falling dramatically.
She stormed out of the dressing room, her heels stomping against the floor.
Daisy hurriedly shooed away the curious onlookers, waving her hands dismissively like scattering pigeons.
“Ugh, that temper. No wonder she gets stomach aches! Blaming others for her misery.”
Fiona’s outburst was hardly surprising. This world was always filled with such pettiness. After all, Fiona herself had become a star three years ago when the lead performer suddenly fell ill before a show.
“She cheats, so she assumes everyone else does too. You should’ve hit her back, Christine.”
“What would that accomplish? Unless I plan to leave this place.”
Christine’s calm tone betrayed no emotion. Her emerald eyes stood out even more against the red handprint on her cheek as she tidied her disheveled hair.
“Let Maggie clean that up. You’ll hurt your hand.”
“It needs to be cleaned before it stains.”
Christine meticulously picked up the glass shards and wiped the damp carpet with a towel.
“Did you hear? The Crown Prince was in the audience today!”
“Later.”
Christine opened a cabinet, grabbed a fresh towel, and continued cleaning.
“Fiona must be tossing and turning right now, even more furious because she missed this chance. Who could’ve guessed the Crown Prince would show up? Even Count Gounod didn’t seem to know.”
To miss such a golden opportunity to impress the royal family…
Daisy giggled, imagining Fiona fuming in frustration. After all the torment Fiona had inflicted on everyone, this was karma at its finest.
“And wasn’t the Crown Prince handsome?”
Christine gave a short reply. “Yes.”
There was no denying it. Arthur Ernst von Maximilian, the most nobleman in Bern and the country’s most eligible bachelor, was unparalleled in looks and status.
“Who knows? Maybe he fell for you after watching your performance tonight.”
“Daisy.”
Christine sighed and glanced at the carpet. The stain seemed manageable now.
“Percy said the Crown Prince couldn’t take his eyes off you! If I were a man, I’d be staring at you too. And I’d fall in love with you at first sight—‘Miss Faledon, please marry me…’”
Had Daisy seen the look in the Crown Prince’s eyes, she wouldn’t have entertained such romantic notions.
Christine neatly folded the used towels and set them aside, thinking about how absurd such fantasies were.
“Oh, just imagining it makes my heart race, Christine!”
Christine didn’t believe in fleeting springtime romances. She didn’t believe in fate either. The circumstances of her birth had taught her that.
In that sense, “falling in love at first sight” was one of the most reckless and irresponsible notions.
“Let’s go, Daisy.”
After changing out of her costume and giving the dressing room a final glance, Christine turned off the lamp on her vanity.
The glamorous dressing room, where she had been the star for just one day, vanished into darkness with a soft click.
