Chapter 1.
Lena was seated, surrounded by numerous noblewomen—truly befitting the queen of high society.
However, she was not at ease.
Her fiancé, the crown prince Illuan, was dancing to his fourth consecutive song with Flos.
After dancing the first piece with Lena, just for form’s sake, he blatantly ignored her for the rest.
“The crown prince seems intent on keeping a mistress before even consummating the royal marriage,” whispered Viscountess Hoover disapprovingly.
Noticing her lead, the young ladies chimed in one by one.
“It’s unpleasant to see Flos fooling around with another’s fiancé.”
“Don’t worry too much.
No matter how cunning Flos may be, she’s just the powerless daughter of Viscount Rotrek. How could she dare dream of taking the place of the Countess of Trie?”
Lena offered a serene smile to the noblewomen who sought to console her, then turned her gaze back to Illuan.
Illuan met her eyes and smirked.
His message was clear.
“No matter how high you climb, if you don’t have my love, it’s all meaningless.”
Lena could hear his voice repeating the words he always muttered like a prayer.
“Don’t act high and mighty. You’re nothing but my shadow.”
Her head throbbed.
“If only Illuan would break off our engagement and boldly declare he would marry Flos instead, I’d be thrilled.
But that coward doesn’t even have the guts to do that.”
Their engagement had been decided on the day Lena was born.
The prestigious Count Trie family had recently amassed immense wealth through trade.
To the financially struggling Adelen royal family, Lena, the only daughter of Count Trie, was an ideal match.
From the Count’s perspective, there was no reason to refuse the opportunity for his daughter to become the future empress.
It was an arrangement that benefited both sides.
“But even so…”
Lena sighed as she looked at Illuan’s frail arms.
As the sole heir of the Adelen royal family for four generations, he had been sickly since childhood.
His short stature and slender limbs, combined with the sight of him wearing fur coats even in midsummer, made Lena sigh in frustration.
She scanned the other young men in the ballroom.
If not for her engagement, she was confident she could receive a proposal from anyone with just a glance or a smile.
“Not that it matters. Illuan is the only man I’ll ever have.”
She heaved another deep sigh.
Sensing her frustration, her friend Beatrice whispered in her ear.
“It seems the crown prince has been working out. His arms look a bit more muscular, don’t they?”
Lena turned her gaze back to Illuan.
Just in time, the dance included a lift where the male partner raised the female partner slightly.
Sure enough, Illuan couldn’t lift Flos even a centimeter.
And yet, his arms trembled embarrassingly, as if he had just fought a bear.
Both Beatrice and Lena turned their heads away, unable to watch.
“I bet Flos jumped on her own,” Beatrice muttered.
“So what if his arm strength is weak? He might be decent in bed,” Lena joked.
“How’s the Marquis of Ridsen?”
Lena glanced at Beatrice’s nearly full-term belly.
It felt like just yesterday that Beatrice had been in tears over her marriage to the nearly forty-year-old marquis.
Now, she was on the verge of giving birth.
At Lena’s question, Beatrice hesitated, then cautiously gave a thumbs-up.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” Lena laughed.
“Well, at least I got pregnant,” Beatrice smiled gently.
“They say having a baby helps improve a marriage.”
Lena nodded obediently.
But she couldn’t completely hide the bitterness.
The waltz melody swelled.
The music would soon end.
As per custom, Illuan would come to ask her for the final dance.
“The tradition was to dance the first and last songs together as a formality.”
The noblewomen also seemed to expect this, as they began preparing to leave.
Lena placed her champagne glass down.
The song ended.
She slowly rose from her seat.
At that moment, Illuan extended his hand toward Flos once again.
He intended to dance the final piece with her as well.
Flos hesitated but eventually took his hand.
“Oh my…,” someone gasped.
A small commotion spread among the onlookers.
Everyone glanced at Lena, gauging her reaction.
It was an embarrassing moment, but Lena simply chuckled.
Only then did the crowd feel at ease and leave, carrying fresh gossip about the future emperor and empress.
“Lena, come with me. Let’s go and curse that obnoxious crown prince to our hearts’ content,” Beatrice huffed.
“It’s fine. Go rest instead.
Thinking about Illuan too much won’t be good for your baby,” Lena waved her off and stepped onto the terrace.
It would have looked even more ridiculous to sit back down after being so blatantly ignored.
Fortunately, the terrace was empty.
A cool breeze blew in from the royal hunting grounds, the Fontaine Forest.
Lena finally felt like she could breathe.
Even if it was just for form’s sake, Illuan should have asked her for the last dance.
Did he not even consider what would happen when her father heard of this insult?
“Idiot.”
The engagement ring on her left ring finger gleamed.
The image of his frail arms resurfaced in her mind, and rage boiled up.
“Can he even fulfill his duties as a man?”
“Hahaha.”
Lena flinched.
A man’s laugh.
She turned toward the sound.
A small cigar ember glowed in the darkness.
A man rose from where the ember had gone out.
With the sound of his approaching footsteps, his tall, broad figure became visible.
Dark hair, cool navy eyes, elegant yet somewhat insolent strides.
Lena recognized him instantly.
“Duke Callahan!”
He was the duke from Calven, the neighboring territory bordering Adelen.
Though he officially dealt in steel, rumors abounded that he was an arms dealer.
The duke approached and greeted her politely.
“Apologies for startling you. I am Gerard von Callahan.”
He lifted his head and met Lena’s gaze directly.
A playful smirk tugged at his lips.
Lena swallowed dryly.
