Crown Prince, I hate you!

“Using someone’s name so carelessly—that, too, is improper.”

“Improper?”

Rowen let out a bitter laugh, stepping closer as her hands clamped down on my arms. Her grip was firm, her fingers pressing hard against my skin.

“Do you really think you’re in any position to lecture me—or my family—about propriety?” she hissed, her voice trembling with anger. “You barely have any alliances left. What gives you the nerve to act like this?”

Her hands quivered slightly, whether from rage or effort, but her words no longer fazed me.

“You’re pathetic, Rowen.”

My voice dropped, quiet but heavy, meant only for the two of us.

“Why are you so worked up? Like you said, all I’ve done is make a few remarks. Normally, you’d just ignore me and gossip behind my back.”

Her disdain for me had always been painfully obvious, her hatred sharper than any of the others’.

“So why today? Why do you care so much?”

For years, I’d wondered why she focused so intensely on me. But as time passed, the answer had become glaringly simple.

“You’re scared, aren’t you? Scared that I’ll come back.”

Scared that I’d reclaim the position I once held, standing higher than her—higher than all of them.

“Every time I seemed happy, you did everything you could to tear me down. Even a few years ago, you—”

I didn’t have to finish. The memory of her actions at that party was enough to flicker across her face.

“Yes,” I continued, my tone almost casual, “you poured water over my head, didn’t you?”

Rowen’s expression faltered further, and I smiled—a faint, delicate curve of my lips, soft enough to appear genuine.

“I remember what your parents said afterward. Something about how it was just a childish mistake and that I shouldn’t make such a fuss.”

‘You were over thirteen at the time, though.’

“…”

“Tell me, were you satisfied that day? Watching me leave in tears? Or maybe it was enough to see my mother humiliated?”

My words struck like arrows, and her mask of composure began to crumble.

“Are you bringing up old incidents just to blackmail me?” she snapped, her tone sharp with defensiveness.

“Blackmail?” I let out a soft chuckle. “Don’t be absurd. I only asked because I genuinely hope it brought you satisfaction.”

I stepped closer, the sound of my heels sharp against the floor, and the distance between us vanished. Rowen’s smirk disappeared entirely, her body stiffening as she realized I wasn’t backing down.

“Because now, with the crown prince’s coming-of-age ceremony, your childish antics won’t be tolerated anymore.”

With a quick motion, I pulled my arms free from her grasp. Rowen scowled, her expression darkening.

“What are you trying to say—?”

“That your petty insults and degrading actions, the ones you use to tear others down, can no longer be excused as the foolishness of a child.”

As crown princess, I had spent years perfecting my expressions, training myself to conceal my emotions. But in this moment, I saw no need for such restraint.

I raised my hand to cover my mouth and let out a soft, airy laugh—bright and genuine. The brilliance of my smile was enough to draw the attention of everyone nearby, their gazes transfixed. Everyone, that is, except Rowen.

“Berian!”

Her voice rose, loud and indignant.

“Lower your voice.” My tone was calm, but my gaze was sharp, cutting through her anger. “Surely, you haven’t forgotten where we are. Or perhaps you’ve already given up on how others perceive you? If that’s the case, by all means, continue shouting.”

‘After all, if you’ve resigned yourself to how His Highness will perceive you, then it all makes sense.’

The words were hers, spoken to me years ago. How does it feel, Rowen, to hear them now, thrown back at you?

“You—this is—!”

Her expression crumbled entirely, her composure shattering as she stared at me, at a loss for words.

‘Not a pleasant thing to hear, is it?’

Watching her unravel, I fought to keep my growing smile in check. It was almost impossible not to let it bloom fully, but I managed—just barely.

She wasn’t typically someone who lost her composure so easily, but because I was the target, her reaction seemed even more dramatic.

Watching the mix of shock and disdain play across her face, I felt nothing close to sympathy. I wasn’t a kind enough person to offer her that.

“Calm yourself, Lady Portian!”

As Rowen’s voice rose, the number of onlookers grew. Her friend Garian, clearly alarmed, rushed to block her path, shaking his head in a desperate attempt to rein her in.

Causing a scene at the crown prince’s coming-of-age ceremony would earn no one goodwill—least of all Rowen and her companions.

“And look at that, Rowen,” I said, my voice laced with playful mockery. “The crowd is growing. You should really keep your voice down. I’m sure your wonderful fiancé must be around here somewhere, watching all this.”

At my teasing remark, Rowen bit down hard on her lower lip, her frustration barely contained.

“Berian, you—”

But before she could finish, the chime of bells filled the ballroom, announcing the start of the ceremony.

The crowd around us began to dissipate, drawn toward the proceedings. Smiling politely, I turned to Rowen.

“It seems we’ve run out of time. I’ll take my leave now, Rowen.”

With a light step, I turned and walked toward the edge of the ballroom. After a few paces, I glanced back. Rowen remained rooted in place, her glare sharp and unyielding. Meeting her gaze, I offered her a soft, almost serene smile before continuing on my way.

The weight of the stares around me had grown heavier, their intensity prickling against my skin. Yet my steps felt lighter than ever.

I had broken free.

‘That,’ I thought, ‘is no crown princess.’

For the first time, I had faced her without fear. The realization brought a cool, invigorating rush, like a breeze cutting through oppressive heat.

My feet carried me to the wine table, where I paused, momentarily caught off guard by the sensation. A quiet, involuntary laugh bubbled up, and I masked it by bringing a glass of wine to my lips.

‘…Sweet.’

I had picked up the glass only to busy my hands, yet the unexpected sweetness of the wine lingered on my tongue. After years of drinking nothing but bitter vintages, this new flavor was startling.

The light smile on my lips widened slightly. The wine’s sweetness mirrored my mood—unexpected, refreshing, and fleeting. But then—

“His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince Hailon de Aubersha, and Her Highness, Princess Sierina de Aubersha, have arrived!”

The booming announcement swept across the ballroom, instantly dispelling the fragile tranquility I had been savoring.

‘So, he’s here.’

The memories I had tried so desperately to bury surged forward, unbidden. The image of that day burned vividly in my mind, and there he was—Hailon—standing before me once again.