Frelis casually purchased a seemingly destitute young man, sweet-talking him into becoming her personal servant.

One afternoon in the garden, Frelis froze behind a hedge as she overheard his conversation: "Your Highness, the Crown Prince's wedding approaches. You must return to the kingdom soon. And what of Miss Frelis... what are your plans for her?"


Leon's laugh cut like ice. Those eyes that once gazed at her with admiration turned glacial. "She's nothing but a country girl with common blood. If she knew my true identity, she'd no doubt throw herself at me like all the rest."

"Though I must admit, her eyes remind me of Venetian glass—delicate yet mesmerizing. Perhaps I'll grant her position as a 'personal attendant' when I return home. A girl like her should be forever grateful for such... generosity."

Leon, as fate would have it, was actually a prince from the neighboring kingdom.


His charade as a "struggling artist" was nothing more than a bored prince's entertainment. And Frelis? In his eyes, she was merely a punchline—just another social climber desperate for status.

"Well, isn't that... interesting." Frelis hid her twisted smile behind her ornate feather fan.


"Oh, Leon," she whispered to herself, "do you truly see me as some insect beneath your boot? How terribly unfortunate." Her eyes glinted. "In just a few days, I'll be entering your kingdom as a royal bride in my dear sister's place."

—And you'll be the one kneeling at the hem of my gown, your lips forced to form the words, "Your Highness, the Crown Prince's Consort."