Chapter 43
The Prince Returns
“I don’t understand.”
Daphne couldn’t comprehend it. Gifts given with good intentions were twisted into acts of pity, rumors about another girl were fabricated out of spite, and now, this confrontation felt entirely unnecessary.
Her lips curved slightly in irritation.
“Even if your pride is precious, I don’t think it justifies hurting others.”
“The way you call us ‘you’ like that—it feels like you’re looking down on us. You think we’re pitiful, don’t you?”
They couldn’t possibly know Daphne’s struggles—how she’d resorted to stealing Killian’s sleeping pills because of her insomnia. Their mocking laughs stung like needles.
“I have never pitied you…”
Daphne decided to hold back her frustration.
“…not once.”
“Don’t lie. You’ve thrown things at us like trash—stuff you didn’t want anymore, used up, or disliked. Isn’t that charity if not pity?”
“You said you wanted them. That they wouldn’t look bad on you. So, I gave them to you. You accepted them, didn’t you? Should I have bought something new instead?”
Ranon didn’t reply. She only glared at Daphne, her gaze filled with hostility.
“Ah.”
It was clear now. They had wanted something from her, and when she hadn’t played along, it had soured their mood. Daphne briefly recalled Narid’s advice, telling her there was no point in using force on fools like these.
A bitter smile tugged at Daphne’s lips.
“What should I do? I really want to hit her.”
Her fingers clenched instinctively.
“Should I hold back?”
She hesitated, considering her options.
“We thought we were your friends. If we were, you shouldn’t have pitied us. And you said you’d deliver our letters to the prince, but you never did!”
“What good would it do for me to pass your letters to my fiancé? Besides, Romeo’s at sea. He hasn’t even received my letters.”
“Why do you call the prince by his name? You’re showing off in front of us again, Daphne Beaucater!”
“Ah.”
Daphne’s anger flared, but instead of clouding her mind, it left her cold and focused.
“And now you call this friendship? If we were friends, maybe you should’ve stopped yourselves before spreading rumors about me ‘selling my body to my godfather.’ Do you even hear yourselves, flaunting your insecurities like that?”
“Daphne Beaucater, are you done?”
“We called you here to apologize.”
Janet interjected, as if her words could smooth things over.
“Go ahead, apologize.”
Daphne thought it might be simpler if she just accepted their apology and ended things there. Maybe it would ease her guilt. In truth, she hated the thought of her name being dragged through their petty nonsense for much longer.
“How are we supposed to apologize when you act like this?”
“What do you want me to do, then?”
Daphne sighed deeply, her leg aching from standing too long. Once this was over, she would need to visit her physical therapist again.
“Daphne, aren’t you going to apologize?”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her tone seemingly genuine. “I should’ve known better. I should’ve been more patient, being the better-educated, noble one. It must’ve hurt, right?”
The last line was directed more at her clenched fist than the girls in front of her.
Her polite yet pointed words seemed to hit a nerve, as Ranon’s face flushed red with anger.
“You…”
“Don’t call me ‘you.’ What makes you think a commoner like you has the right to address the daughter of a marquess that way?”
Their expressions hardened. It seemed Daphne had to spell it out for them to understand their place.
And that was disappointing.
Ranon had once been kind enough to massage Daphne’s legs when she had spasms, even though she must have been hesitant to touch her feet. Those moments of goodness now felt irreparably tarnished by these petty grievances.
“Ranon, just live your life that way. Spend your days whining about ‘charity’ and lashing out as a bitter nobody.”
Ranon, Janet, and the others had once dreamed of becoming the prince’s wife, the king’s daughter-in-law, or the mother of a future monarch.
“I don’t enjoy speaking like this.”
But if that was their dream, Daphne would’ve genuinely wished them well—just not today.
“After graduation, you’ll likely end up as the wife of some insignificant idler, a daughter-in-law to an abusive father-in-law, or the mother of an unruly child.”
Daphne, on the other hand, would become a queen. Or, before that, an entrepreneur with a company bearing her name.
“While you’re busy with that, I’ll be ruling Serenade—the very land you’ll be buried in someday.”
And maybe, she thought briefly, she’d find a way to live independently without being trapped in the palace.
Her thoughts faltered.
“Independence…?”
Perhaps that was what Killian had meant when he told her to think about her goals. To tread that path, she would need the strength to ignore petty rumors.
Anyone who sought to achieve greatness had to let trivial distractions blow by like passing clouds. Staying centered in this turbulent storm was her responsibility.
“Are you done talking?”
“Not quite.”
Daphne pulled out her loose hair tie, letting her red hair fall to her waist before tying it back up. Her movements were calm, almost leisurely.
“What you owe me isn’t an apology. It’s gratitude.”
The year had been one of pain, sorrow, and anger.
But Daphne had survived it without crumbling, without running away.
That was enough.
These girls, ultimately, were insignificant specks beneath her. They could do nothing to harm her.
Smiling brightly, Daphne looked at them the way Killian might have—with detached amusement.
“How about a simple ‘Thank you for sparing us’?”
****
When Daphne turned sixteen, all of Secradion was abuzz with talk of the “New Prince.”
“I knew this would happen,” Killian muttered, throwing a newspaper onto the table.
It was the first time Daphne had seen her usually composed godfather so frustrated. Her wide eyes blinked in surprise.
“Why?”
Killian rubbed the back of his neck, clearly agitated. Curious, Daphne picked up the newspaper and unfolded it.
“The Returning Prince, Secradion’s Bastard, Restored as the First Prince?”
Daphne glanced at the bold headline and the accompanying photograph. A young boy with a delicate, almost feminine face, bright hair, and an expression too unreadable for his age stared back at her.
“Did you know Uncle had an illegitimate child?”
Her voice was filled with disbelief as she examined the boy’s picture. His features were striking, though not at all reminiscent of either Romeo or the king.
“Why does he look so familiar?”
The thought tugged at her as she squinted at the photograph. Before she could figure it out, Killian’s hand moved to cover the page.
“Don’t look at it. Nothing good will come from getting involved.”
Daphne hadn’t even decided if she wanted to meet this prince.
“Why? He looks handsome,” she said, pushing the paper slightly to peek.
“He’s not. Just an inscrutable brat,” Killian snapped.
“Wait, do you know him? How?”
Killian’s harsh tone only piqued her curiosity further. Daphne tilted her head from side to side, trying to catch another glimpse of the photo. Killian kept blocking her view, his hand firmly in the way.
“Your future husband should not be some royal punk.”
“Oh, why not? But isn’t my fiancé—”
“Fiancé? Forget that nonsense. If you don’t want it, say so. I’ll make sure you have everything you need.”
“Godfather, are you going somewhere? Take me with you.”
“……”
Killian pressed his lips tightly together, saying nothing.
Daphne, meanwhile, recalled that her mother, Amber, had sent her here to learn the social graces required of a future queen. What had started as a temporary arrangement had turned into daily chats with her godfather.
“This one, in particular, is a no-go.”
Killian rarely used vague words like “in particular” or “just because.”
“Why?”
Daphne had already asked why four times, yet Killian offered no clear explanation. His discomfort only grew.
“Daphne, didn’t you say you wanted to visit Airen?”
“Yes, absolutely!”
“What if we go this summer? By then, the estate work should be manageable…”
“But I need to prepare for my debutante ball. Isn’t this prince attending? He’s been filling in for Romeo at official events.”
“…The debutante,” Killian echoed, sounding as if he had forgotten entirely.
It was rare to see her godfather so unsettled, and Daphne didn’t know how to handle it. When she tried to read the article properly, Killian snatched the paper from her hands—an uncharacteristically undignified move.
“You always tell me to read the paper daily! Why can’t I read this one?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“Wow, no reason at all? That’s so unreasonable…”
Naturally, being forbidden only made her more determined. If not this newspaper, tomorrow’s edition would likely feature more about the mysterious prince.
Yet, over the next few days, the newspapers fell eerily silent. Important updates were instead summarized by Narid, leaving Daphne feeling utterly bewildered.
****
Not long after, Daphne got the chance to see him—not in a newspaper, but in person.
A grand thanksgiving festival was being held in Serenade, and the prince himself had come. Royals rarely visited such remote areas, but it seemed he was traveling to various locations to introduce himself as the “replacement prince” from overseas.
“His hair shines.”
Daphne almost let out a wow aloud as she caught sight of him. He looked unmistakably like a prince straight out of a storybook.
Unlike Romeo, whose face she had grown bored of seeing since childhood, this prince looked completely different—like the perfect fairy tale prince.
And with his rare blonde hair, an uncommon sight in Secradion, he stood out the moment he entered her line of sight.
He was dressed sharply in a dark suit tinged with blue, his hair swept back to reveal his forehead. His small face was filled with striking features, and his lips, curved elegantly, appeared vividly red even from a distance.
“His eyes are green. That’s so unusual.”
The young man had a youthful yet commanding presence. He was tall and well-built, standing a full head above the others around him. He almost seemed like someone from another world.
Young ladies approached him one by one, greeting him with courtesy and receiving charming smiles in return.
“I should…”
Daphne found herself loitering nearby, pretending to pass by as she repeatedly glanced at him. Just as she was tilting her body one way and then the other to get a better look, his gaze finally fell on her.
Embarrassed, she fidgeted with her dress, brushing its hem nervously.
She realized now that her dress was similar in color to his suit. Standing next to him, they might even look well-matched.
“He’ll greet me, right?”
But the prince did nothing of the sort. He simply stared at her for a long moment, offering no nod, no wave, not even a blink.
“Huh?”
After nearly a minute of staring, his green gaze shifted away.
And not only that—he took long strides to the opposite side of the room, disappearing into the crowd. His striking face, however, remained visible even among the throng.
Just then, Killian entered the venue in his wheelchair. Daphne rushed over to him, her frustration spilling out immediately.
“Godfather, that prince ignored me!”
“Then ignore him back. Aren’t you usually uninterested in the men here?”
“Are you kidding? That’s the prince! Romeo’s brother!”
“What?”
“How am I supposed to sleep at night after being ignored by such a dashing prince?”
Daphne, caring little for her dignity, pointed in the direction where the blonde man had disappeared. Killian followed her finger with his gaze.
“So, he’s back again—that so-called prince.”
Killian’s face twisted into a deep scowl as he muttered under his breath.
