Crown Prince, I hate you!

The voice announcing their arrival echoed through the grand ballroom, drawing every gaze to the top of the staircase.

Descending gracefully were the crown prince and princess, their steps measured and deliberate, their expressions serene as they exchanged fleeting glances with the gathered nobles.

While the rest of the room vied for their attention, desperate for even a passing acknowledgment, I stood apart, unwilling and unable to join in their silent adulation.

Hailon de Aubersha.

There was no memory I wanted to erase more, no relationship I wished more fervently to undo.

“How utterly pathetic.”

“Did you truly think I would ever love you?”

“Do not treat Helen so carelessly.”

Those words, buried deep in my heart, resurfaced with startling clarity. They pressed down on my chest, stealing my breath and quickening my pulse.

It was all in the past—events I swore not to let repeat in this life. And yet, despite my resolve, my heart raced beyond my control.

While I struggled to steady my thoughts, the pair finished their descent, offering polite smiles and greetings to the nobles. Moments later, the emperor and empress entered, marking the official start of the ceremony.

The nobles shifted to form a wide circle around the emperor and Hailon, anticipation heavy in the air. The emperor then presented Hailon with the ceremonial token of adulthood.

The intricate rituals had been completed earlier, leaving only these final, public ceremonies to conclude the event. Everything unfolded smoothly, efficiently, and without error.

Finally, the emperor handed Hailon a ceremonial sword, his expression warm and proud. Hailon knelt briefly before his father, then rose to face the assembled nobles.

A thunderous wave of applause erupted, the sound reverberating through the room like a storm. It was so deafening that it only ceased when the emperor raised his hand for silence.

As Hailon completed his bows, he stepped forward, offering his hand to the princess. Together, they moved to the center of the ballroom, signaling the start of the first dance.

The melody began—a soft, elegant tune that filled the room with an air of enchantment.

The crown prince and princess moved as if in perfect harmony, their steps fluid and precise. Their beauty, their grace, and their commanding presence captivated the room. Every eye was drawn to them.

Noblewomen sighed audibly, their admiration for the crown prince unabashed. For many, it was the first time they had seen him, and his appearance alone was enough to enthrall them.

When the music ended, the room erupted into applause once more. But beneath the smiles and clapping hands, a subtle tension began to weave through the crowd.

By tradition, after the first dance with the princess, the crown prince would choose a noblewoman for the second.

This selection was no mere formality. It carried weight, as the chosen partner was often seen as the most likely candidate for the title of crown princess.

Hailon, the empire’s first prince, had spent his youth in near-total seclusion. He was now the heir to the throne, entrusted with the line of succession by the illustrious Princess Sierina herself.

Every step he took, every gesture he made, was flawless. Even the emperor and empress watched with pride, their satisfaction palpable.

The nobles, sensing opportunity, sharpened their focus. Their gazes clung to Hailon, their calculations spinning as they speculated who would catch his attention.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he began to move.

The ballroom fell silent as his steps echoed across the floor.

He walked with purpose, his gaze fixed—and he was walking toward me.

Gasps rippled through the crowd, disbelief painted on their faces.

But amidst the chaos of their reactions, I stood still, my expression unchanging.

I already knew.

I knew exactly why Hailon was walking toward me.

A family known in society, but without enough political influence to pose a threat.

A mother from a viscount’s lineage, a father who served as captain of the knights, and a single, unengaged daughter.

Every aspect of this profile made the Clody family an ideal candidate for an arranged marriage—a balance of prestige without excessive power.

“Do nothing. Say nothing. That is your role and your duty.”

Hailon’s cold words echoed vividly in my mind, the memory as sharp as the day they were spoken.

A life spent sitting by his side, smiling while everything else was taken from me—that wasn’t a life I would ever return to.

“Not even if it kills me.”

“Lady Clody, may I have this dance?”

His hand extended toward me, his softly curved eyes fixed on mine.

It was that look.

The same look that had captivated me the first time.

The hand that had reached out to a girl ostracized by society, the kind gaze that seemed to see no one but me—I had been so enthralled by it that I gave him my heart without hesitation.

At a time when I was weighed down by my family’s burdens and the scrutinizing eyes of the aristocracy, his hand had seemed like salvation, a lifeline dropped from the heavens.

I had believed that if I only took his hand, I could escape the life I knew and find happiness.

But now, after everything I’d experienced, I knew better.

That lifeline was nothing more than a rotten rope, destined to bring even greater misery.

Having fallen once from that height, I had no intention of falling again.

I met Hailon’s smile with one of my own, soft and delicate, mirroring the charm he presented.

“No, thank you.”

“!”

The ballroom fell silent.

The tension in the room was palpable as all eyes turned toward me. Shock rippled through the gathered nobles like an electric current.

Rejecting the crown prince’s invitation wasn’t impossible, but it was unheard of. Most nobles would have leaped at the chance, eager to claim even the smallest connection to the imperial family.

Such a connection came with enormous benefits, after all.

But the whispers that erupted weren’t just about the rejection itself.

‘I said it too bluntly…’

Even if my words had been directed at a lesser noble, they would have been considered impolite. My emotions, stirred by memories of the past, had momentarily overtaken me, and the words left my lips before I could stop them.

Though I immediately realized my mistake, there was no way to take it back.