Chapter 1
Three years had passed since Beatrice II ascended the throne following Beatrice I. Times had changed enough that no one dared question a woman’s right to the imperial seat. Though debutantes still busied themselves with primping for the social season, speculating over which noble son would make the finest groom, the world was undeniably different—wealthy entrepreneurs now rivaled even the emperor in riches.
Julia, too, had once dreamed of a life slightly out of step with tradition. A dream that, in an unchanged era, would have been unthinkable for a woman—nay, a noble lady—to entertain: becoming a professional musician. Fortunately, Julia possessed exceptional talent with the cello and had even secured a chance to perform before the empress herself.
“What do you think you’re doing?!”
Yet here she was now, trapped behind the greenhouse of the Marquis Louis estate, struggling to break free from the arms of a man who thought nothing of toying with her.
“Let me go! If you keep this up, I won’t stay quiet!”
It was all because of the debts her father, Baron Ruper, had accrued.
Though technically nobility, the Ruper family held the lowest inheritable title—baron—and their wealth was meager at best. Their assets consisted of a modest townhouse crammed with four family members and a small rural estate where potatoes were the primary crop.
In this precarious state, the baron had recklessly invested in the booming textile trade, lured by the illusion of easy riches. Unprepared, he’d plunged into debt. If not repaid soon, they stood to lose both home and land. The fire was at their feet.
Even in these changing times, sudden financial desperation left few options. Julia had no choice but to debut in society and enter the marriage market, hoping a suitor’s family might offer a dowry substantial enough to save them.
That she could even entertain such a plan was thanks to her natural beauty. Even plainly dressed, Julia was often called stunning. Her lightly tousled, sunlit chestnut hair, flawless skin, and sharp yet oddly endearing features—especially her striking golden eyes, inherited from her mother—made her unforgettable.
“I don’t need anything else! I’ll marry a rich man, buy whatever I want, and live as I please!”
Her mother had declared the same before falling headlong for her father, who shared those very eyes.
“You said you had something to discuss, yet you—how utterly disgraceful!”
But Julia’s beauty brought more trouble than advantage. The title of “the ruinously pretty daughter of a crumbling barony” was enough to draw men like moths to flame. Their behavior toward her was predictably brazen.
Proposals at first sight were almost endearing compared to the hands that grabbed her without consent. This man, however, had deliberately led her to the secluded greenhouse with clear intentions.
“What exactly do you plan to do if I don’t stay quiet? You’re hardly in a position to act so high and mighty, my lady.”
Though Julia managed to wrench herself free from his suffocating grip, escape wasn’t immediate.
“I hear you’re in a hurry to marry—or am I mistaken?”
He wasn’t wrong.
“What’s the harm in starting early? I’ve taken a liking to you. These days, marriages after a child are hardly scandalous.”
Julia glared at him, fingers clutching the pearl-adorned silk dress her mother had ordered—a dress bought at the cost of a month’s worth of potatoes. The weight of it, both literal and symbolic, made her hesitate. Was slapping him the right move?
Her hesitation stemmed from knowing exactly who this man was: James Mulhern, heir to the wealthiest and most prestigious dukedom in the empire, already bearing his father’s title of viscount.
“Well, my lady? If you don’t dislike me, I’d like to expedite this marriage.”
Instinctively, Julia stepped back. Desperation aside, the thought of marrying him was unbearable.
“Marrying me would benefit you. Surely you know who I am? Think carefully.”
Did he even hear himself?
His words were a demand: Spread your legs quietly if you want this. Julia, who had only just debuted and whose closest male interactions were with her father and brother, burned with humiliation. Tears pricked her eyes, but she clenched her teeth. She refused to cry in front of him.
“Let’s pretend this never happened.”
She forced politeness and turned to leave—only for Viscount Mulhern to drop all pretense.
“My, aren’t you expensive?”
The words rooted her in place.
“What… did you just say?”
“Isn’t it obvious? You’re here because you’re desperate for money. I’m handsome, richer than you could dream—why play hard to get? What, is it that pretty face of yours? Fine, I’ll pay a premium. What’s the issue?”
Julia swallowed a sharp breath. That she’d stifled her anger even briefly, tempted by his wealth, infuriated her.
Should I hit him now?
A rumor that she’d struck him might deter other lecherous suitors. More than anything, she longed to wipe that smug grin off his face.
She stepped forward, fist tightening—
“Julia Ruper.”
A voice cut through the tension as an arm slid around her waist, halting her.
“Don’t waste your time on trash. Step back.”
The whisper at her ear was familiar. Unlike Mulhern’s touch, this embrace felt natural—so much so that Julia didn’t bristle. It was as if she’d done this countless times before.
When she turned, the man released her smoothly. When had so many people gathered? The greenhouse had been empty moments ago. Now, a crowd—mostly women—whispered behind her.
“Is that really Viscount Cayen Clue?”
“Those violet-gray eyes—it’s him.”
“I thought the Clues were in Esacudia?”
“Rumor says they were exiled.”
“No, the duke there was desperate to marry off his daughter to him!”
“I heard he killed his own father for business.”
“What? The late viscount died in an accident!”
The murmurs swirled, all eyes fixed on the man before Julia.
“Viscount Clue?”
Mulhern sounded startled. But Julia, finally getting a clear look at the man, was far more shocked.
Towering over her, his broad frame blocked her view even in his tailored suit. Jet-black hair, sharp features that bordered on intimidating—everything about him was arresting.
“Kai…?”
Julia’s recognition wasn’t just about his striking looks. She knew this man.
“Kai… Oppa?”
The man gazing down at her with detached calm was someone she remembered all too well.
