How Do You Do, Sire?

It had been quite some time since we stepped out of the ballroom. The prince was escorting me to the room prepared for me inside Astera Palace—his palace.

After our first dance, I had assumed he would take his leave. We had already exchanged farewells—him with a polite nod, me with a deep bow—and he had mentioned that he would go about greeting and conversing with the other celebrants.

With that, I had gone off on my own, attempting to socialize as best as I could. But to my surprise, he returned.

At the time, I had been engaged in conversation with a young lord, a newly appointed knight of the empire.

—

"It was a grueling selection process," the young lord had been saying, his chest puffed with pride. "Hundreds applied, yet only a handful of us were chosen. I, of course, was among the top-ranked."

"That's quite impressive, Lord Vellian," I had replied, offering a practiced smile.

He continued, oblivious to my dwindling interest. "During the final trials, I was put against the captain himself—Sir Kael Averon! Can you believe it? Our duel lasted nearly an hour, and though I did not win, he personally praised my swordsmanship. Said I had potential to become one of the finest knights of my generation!"

"Ah, that must have been an honor," I murmured, nodding along while lazily swirling the glass of white wine in my hand. From time to time, I took small sips, more to amuse myself than out of any real desire to drink. At the very least, I could savor the taste of liquor again—one of the few silver linings of this entire situation.

In truth, I wasn't listening. The young lord had been droning on about his achievements for the past ten minutes, and by now, his words blended into an indistinct hum. It wasn't that I doubted his skill—he was undoubtedly accomplished—but there were only so many times one could hear the same story, recycled and reworded, before it became exhausting.

At first, I had actually found him somewhat appealing, even entertaining the idea that he could be a potential suitor. But that interest quickly waned. Any attraction I had disappeared the moment I realized he was more interested in hearing himself talk than actually holding a conversation.

Just as I was preparing a polite excuse to slip away, a deep voice cut through the conversation.

"Lord Vellian."

The young knight startled, his back straightening in an instant. I turned my head, only to meet the striking golden gaze of the crown prince.

"Y-Your Highness," Lord Vellian stammered, immediately bowing.

The prince inclined his head slightly, a calm yet authoritative presence radiating from him. "It seems Lady Melenheim is feeling unwell. I will be escorting her to rest."

I blinked. Unwell?

I certainly didn't feel unwell. But the moment his gaze flickered to me, something in his expression told me to go along with it.

And so I did. "Ah… Yes," I said, pressing a hand lightly to my temple as if suddenly feeling faint. "I suppose I may have overexerted myself."

"Then I shall not take up any more of your time," Lord Vellian said hastily, stepping back. "Please, my lady, do take care of yourself."

With that, the conversation ended, and I found myself walking beside the crown prince once more.

—

Since then, silence had settled between us, thick and unbroken. The only sound accompanying us was the rhythmic clicking of our shoes against the marble floors.

I was reminded once again of the embarrassment that lingered from my missteps inside the ballroom—the etiquette blunders I had committed in front of him. In the 21st century, such things would have been trivial, barely worth a second thought. But here? Here, nobles didn't just follow etiquette; they lived and breathed it, thrived on perfection.

And I had faltered.

Mistakes, no matter how small, never went unnoticed in this world. They were observed, whispered about, and dissected behind silk-covered fans. A single misstep could stain a reputation, yet the prince had been unexpectedly merciful. He hadn't shown the slightest hint of displeasure, nor had he acted as though my blunders mattered.

It was as if they had never happened at all.

I needed happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts.

"...heim? Lady Melenheim?"

The Crown Prince's voice pulled me from my spiraling thoughts.

"Ah! Yes… Your Highness?" I responded absentmindedly, blinking back at him.

We now stood ten feet apart—me in front, while he had stopped a few steps behind.

Wait. Did I walk too fast?

"Your room," he said simply.

"Yes? What about my room?" I asked, still caught up in my own head.

He motioned toward the door beside him. Only then did I realize that he had stopped walking because we had already arrived. A small smile curled at the corner of his lips—he was holding back laughter.

Oh. Oh no.

I had walked right past it like an idiot.

"Oh! Yeah… well… yes!" I stammered, forcing composure as I turned back toward him. My face was burning. I could already feel the heat crawling up my neck.

So much for leaving a good impression.

I exhaled sharply. "Thank you… Your Highness," I said, forcing another smile, genuinely grateful that he had gone out of his way to escort me when he could have just ordered a servant to lead me here.

"You are very much welcome, my lady."

Still burning with embarrassment, I turned swiftly, grabbed the door handle, and stepped inside.

Then, without thinking, I slammed the door shut behind me.

Silence.

I froze.

Oh no.

I just slammed the door.

On the Crown Prince.

I whipped around, eyes wide, and yanked the door open again.

He was still standing there.

His expression? Pure disbelief.

"I am terribly sorry!" I blurted out, my voice filled with mortification. I was certain my face was red enough to rival a sunset.

For a moment, he didn't respond. He just stared at me.

"Your Highness?" I prompted hesitantly.

"Oh! Yes! No, it's alright," he said after a beat.

"No! It was very rude of me," I insisted, deeply apologetic. "I sincerely apologize. I will accept any punishment—"

"Stop," he cut me off, raising a hand. "Honestly, it's fine. I was just… surprised, that's all."

Then, to my absolute horror, he laughed.

I stared at him, dumbfounded.

He was laughing. He actually found this funny.

"This is so refreshing," he mused, still chuckling.

"What is?" I asked, confused.

"Nothing." He shook his head, amusement twinkling in his golden eyes. "I'll see you again tonight, Lady Melenheim."

The setting sun bathed him in a golden glow, turning his hair into strands of molten light. A soft breeze passed between us, carrying the lingering warmth of the day as it tousled his locks ever so slightly. For a moment, everything else faded—the grand halls, the distant murmurs of servants, the weight of the evening.

My gaze traced his features, lingering longer than I should have. His nose, sharp and defined. His lips, gently curved. Then back to his eyes, deep and piercing, holding an unreadable glint.

Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he took my hand, his grip firm yet gentle, and lowered his lips to my skin.

The moment his lips brushed against the back of my hand, a strange sensation shot through me—something searing yet delicate, like a flicker of fire dancing across my skin. It wasn't the first time. He had done the same back in the ballroom, a formal gesture, a mere courtesy. Yet back then, I had been too overwhelmed, too preoccupied with the weight of watchful eyes to dwell on it. I had brushed off the heat that had risen to my face, convincing myself it was nothing.

But here, in the silence of this empty hallway, with no one around to witness, no distractions to anchor me—this time, I felt it.

A deep, unfamiliar warmth spread from where his lips had touched, traveling up my arm, curling into my chest like a slow, creeping ember. I swallowed, fingers twitching slightly in his grasp, but he didn't let go just yet. The space between us felt smaller than it was, the air subtly charged, though I couldn't tell if it was real or if I was imagining it.

I knew this was a normal greeting in the empire, a courtesy performed without a second thought. But I wasn't used to it. No one had ever kissed my hand before him, and it left me feeling… affected.

Ridiculous. It was nothing. Just etiquette.

And yet, I couldn't shake the lingering warmth as he finally released my hand.

Oh! Oh no.

I think I just fell in love at first sight.

"Thank you, Your Highness. I'll see you tonight," I managed to reply, willing my heart to calm.

Yes! This was what I should have done earlier. When escorted to a room, the lady was supposed to wait until the gentleman bid her goodbye with a kiss on the back of her hand. That was proper etiquette.

But I had completely botched it.

The moment he turned to leave, I stood frozen, my heart pounding against my ribs. I waited—one second, two seconds—until I was sure he was far enough down the hall. I didn't even watch him go; I simply assumed he had disappeared from sight.

And then—

A loud, frustrated scream tore from my throat, raw and unfiltered, echoing through the silent corridor. I clutched my head, fingers digging into my scalp as I rocked slightly on my heels. Mortification burned through me like wildfire.

What the hell was that?!

Just as I was about to collapse onto the nearest piece of furniture to wallow in my shame, a voice—far too familiar—cut through the air.

"…My lady?"

My breath hitched.

Oh no.

Slowly, as if dreading my own fate, I turned around.

He was still there.

I froze. 

The Crown Prince was standing there. Again.

I had forgotten to close the door.

I was going to cry.

"Why did you come back?" The words slipped out, more a question to myself than to him, my voice laced with exhaustion.

Yes, why did you come back?

Frustration swirled within me, tangled with emotions I couldn't quite name.

He raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't something wrong? You were shouting like you were being attacked." His tone was laced with genuine concern.

I waved a hand dismissively, defeated. "It was nothing."

Naturally, he stepped in.

The room was spacious, with a sitting area before the bed. I made a beeline for the long sofa in front of the tea table and slumped onto it. My limbs felt like jelly.

He followed, then remained standing, watching me.

I leaned back, tilting my head to stare at the ceiling. I was beyond caring at this point. I had already humiliated myself enough for the day—what was one more mistake?

I sighed, then lazily patted the seat beside me. "You can sit here."

Oh. No greeting. No pleasantries. Just straight to the point.

If he found me insolent, so be it. Maybe it was time to embrace the villainess role Aerin had been meant to play.

His eyes sparkled with amusement, his lips twitching as if suppressing a grin.

He probably thought I was some bizarre creature at this point.

In this conservative world, an unmarried man and woman were not supposed to be alone in an enclosed space. And yet, here I was, casually inviting the Crown Prince to sit beside me as if it were nothing.

I glanced at the door.

Oh. At least it was closed now. He must have shut it behind him. Good. The last thing I needed was rumors flying around. It would tarnish his image, after all. He was the Crown Prince.

"Are you sure?" he asked, as if checking whether I was in my right mind.

"Yeah, go ahead. I don't mind," I replied with a wave of my hand.

Just sitting wasn't a big deal. People here were just so damn obsessed with etiquette and meaningless formalities.

And I had already broken half of them.

Once he had settled beside me, leaving a respectable amount of space between us, he turned to face me.

"Do you normally… shout like that?" the prince asked, tilting his head slightly in curiosity.

I huffed, crossing my arms. "No, not really. I only do it when I'm too embarrassed, angry, or when I just can't contain myself."

He chuckled. "That's quite an unusual method for a duke's daughter. I thought you would be more composed."

"Huh! Are you judging me?" Then I shrugged, and continued. "We all have different ways of dealing with things. Sometimes, I even slap myself."

His smile faded, replaced by a small frown. "You shouldn't hurt your delicate and beautiful self."

I snorted before bursting into laughter. "Pfft! There you go again, always saying these sugary things. It makes me cringe."

He smirked. "Other ladies seem to like it."

"I don't mind. I just can't stop judging," I said, shaking my head. "After all, all men are taught to be polite and gentlemanly."

His expression dimmed slightly. "Am I like the other men you know?"

I paused at that, tilting my head in thought. "I wouldn't know. I have no close male friends to compare you to."

There was a beat of silence. His gaze lingered on me, unreadable. Then, after a moment, he spoke again.

"Then, I can be your first friend."

I raised an eyebrow before nonchalantly shrugging. "Sure, why not? If you can handle my insolence, I accept your offer."

I grinned at him, eyes squinting mischievously, but something in his expression shifted. The teasing light in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something else. Something heavier. His gaze locked onto mine, unwavering, intense. The air between us changed—thicker, charged with something I couldn't quite name.

The warm afternoon light streamed through the open window, casting a golden glow across his face. It accentuated the sharp cut of his jaw, the way his lips parted slightly, as if he were about to say something. But he didn't.

Time slowed.

The silence stretched, stretching too far, too long. My breath hitched, my pulse drumming a little louder in my ears.

Then—

He blinked, as if snapping out of something, and cleared his throat. He leaned back slightly, forcing an easy smile. "Yes. We are now friends."

The moment the words left his lips, I slapped his shoulder and burst into laughter.

"Yes! We're friends now!"

His eyes widened in pure disbelief. "Did you just—"

"Oh, come on. It didn't even hurt. This is normal for friends, you know," I said, grinning.

He looked unconvinced.

Finally, straightening my posture, I extended a hand toward him. He stared at it, confused.

"What… are you doing?"

"It's a handshake," I explained. "Friends do this."

His brows furrowed. "A… handshake?"

"Yes. It's a way to seal an agreement, a gesture of trust and camaraderie. You take my hand, shake it, and that's it."

Still skeptical, he eyed my outstretched hand before slowly reaching out. His grip was firm but uncertain, like he was testing the motion. I shook his hand twice before letting go.

"See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" I grinned.

He studied his own hand for a moment before looking back at me, a small, amused smile playing at his lips.

"Strange… but oddly enjoyable."

I laughed, shaking my head.

This prince…