Chapter 23
“I truly have always been waiting for this day.”
A young lady I’d never met before chattered dreamily. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking or what she wanted—and honestly, I didn’t care to know.
Still, I did my best to treat them all as kindly as I could.
“Thank you for your thoughtfulness.”
Because of all the greetings, I was separated from Damian, though I could still spot him immediately even from afar.
Amidst all the noblemen surrounding him, he stood out with his tall, commanding build and strikingly handsome face.
He must have been tired from preparing since morning, just like me, but there wasn’t the slightest hint of fatigue on his face.
He smiled as if he were truly happy—as if marrying me brought him genuine joy.
That expression… I’ve never seen it before.
It only confused me more. Was that smile real?
Back when I thought I already knew this story, I was certain that he loved me—and that I could stop him.
But…
I was completely wrong. If I think about it logically, the reasonable conclusion is this: my father had been cooperating with him.
If Father agreed to work with him on the condition that he marry me—if he ordered Damian to act as though he loved me—then everything makes sense.
After all, once Damian seized the throne, he destroyed our family. Perhaps even I was just another pawn on his chessboard.
Then… did my choice have any meaning at all?
I smiled, accepting the congratulatory words and well-wishes from the noble ladies and young maidens. My expression couldn’t falter—not even for a moment.
No matter what, I was doing all of this to save my little brother.
That theory makes the most sense… but there’s still something strange about it.
If Father had been cooperating with him because of this marriage, he wouldn’t have acted so disapproving toward Damian in front of me.
I needed to look deeper into that. If the two of them started falling apart later, maybe that discord was what eventually led to Theo and Estelle’s deaths.
The problem was, I had to uncover the truth all on my own.
There’s nothing more I can get from the diary, and I can’t fully trust the novel either.
Then I’d have to rely on other nobles for help. I slowly surveyed the hall around me.
Each person was different—in appearance, in title, in desire.
I had an excuse to interact with them now. As the crown princess, no one could fault me for participating more actively in social life.
If Damian was as dutiful as I believed him to be, he’d let me attend such gatherings even if he disliked it.
I swallowed discreetly.
To tell me to live exactly as the novel dictates—knowing it leads to tragedy?
Never.
At that moment, the orchestra began tuning their instruments—a signal to prepare for the first dance. The slightly discordant notes drew soft exclamations from the guests. For them, this was the first time witnessing the dance of the new Crown Prince and Princess.
They say love between two people shows most clearly when they dance.
From whispers that we didn’t love each other, to rumors claiming our relationship began with a kiss and became inseparable—people would see whatever they wanted to believe.
And if that’s what they wanted to see… then I’d show it to them.
Then, through the hum of whispers and tuning instruments, a voice called out, powerful enough to silence everything around me.
“Rosaline.”
The air trembled. It was a voice I’d known since long before it had deepened with age—a voice that had filled my life until just yesterday.
As the last note of his voice faded, all other sounds ceased, and every gaze in the room turned toward a single point.
There he stood—looking straight at me.
Hair as dark as raven feathers, and eyes of vivid violet that glowed like captured light.
A man so radiant it was as if he absorbed every bit of brightness around him—his very name as dangerously alluring as a devil’s.
Damian.
He reached out his hand to me. I walked toward him slowly.
When I placed my hand in his, his fingers immediately intertwined with mine, gripping tightly.
To others, it must have looked like a tender gesture—a picture-perfect couple holding hands.
But from my palm, a shiver crept up my spine.
When I lifted my gaze, his eyes met mine, and he smiled radiantly.
The man who will one day kill my brother.
His other hand slid effortlessly to my waist. His touch burned through the fabric. I steadied myself by placing my free hand on his shoulder, feeling the cold, hard epaulet beneath my palm.
The die had been cast.
Once a pawn steps onto the board, it must fight until checkmate.
As I took a breath, the music began again—like a clock restarting after being stopped. The orchestra’s melody swelled, and we began to move.
With each step, my gown flared and my hair swept through the air.
Each spin drew murmurs of admiration from the crowd. I could feel their stares piercing into me like needles.
Damian led gracefully, eyes gleaming with satisfaction, the corners of his lips perfectly composed.
And I too was satisfied—because to everyone watching, we must have looked flawless.
…On the surface.
Even though at any moment, one of us might drive a knife into the other’s heart.
The reception grew lively after the first dance. The noblewomen’s colorful dresses fluttered like flower petals as they twirled across the floor.
After dancing three songs in a row with Damian, I used thirst as an excuse to slip away.
“Congratulations on your marriage, Your Highness,” came voices wherever I went—some shy and blushing, others sharp and assessing, making my face prickle with discomfort.
I was reaching my physical limit. After greeting guests with Damian in the center of the ballroom and thanking them for their attendance, I excused myself and went upstairs.
Once inside my room, I sighed as my feet throbbed. After wearing high, thin heels all day, it was inevitable.
“The ball will continue for the next four days,” Damian said, bringing me a cup of warm water.
I drained it in one go.
“Do I have to attend every day?”
“Yes,” he replied, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“But don’t worry. You only need to appear briefly to offer a toast.”
His words were meant to reassure me, but they didn’t help. Four days of no freedom—it was exhausting just to think about it.
So tired…
As I sighed, Damian sat down beside me. Our eyes met—his, a twilight violet, like the sky just before nightfall on a summer evening.
Silence settled between us. The hand that had brushed my hair lingered, trailing down my jawline and stopping at my chin.
From beyond the closed door came faint music and laughter. The hazy sounds made it feel as though I’d fallen into a dream.
Damian leaned in. I instinctively closed my eyes, already knowing what he meant to do.
Even if he didn’t love me, one kiss would keep suspicion away.
Déjà vu…
My heart pounded. The enclosed room, the fading sunset—it was the same tension all over again.
He tilted my chin upward, and a soft touch brushed my lips—then deepened.
Whether from nerves or something else, my head spun, heat rising through me. His lips, his hand at my jaw—it was all so hot I could barely breathe.
As my heartbeat quickened, my breath caught. Then his thumb pressed lightly beneath my lower lip.
My lips parted, and before I could exhale, he deepened the kiss.
My eyes flew open for a second—he was kissing me with his eyes closed, long lashes trembling against pale skin. I shut mine tightly again.
He explored me softly, deeply, until my thoughts scattered. My chest rose and fell rapidly.
No…
I was suffocating. I pushed at him with both hands.
Surprisingly, Damian drew back without resistance. The warmth between us vanished, leaving only cold air brushing against my lips.
I opened my eyes. He was still right there, only a hand’s span away, looking at me.
His lips were slightly parted, and I caught a glimpse of his pale, sharp teeth. The memory of their touch made my blood rush to my head.
“Damian…”
I spoke without knowing what I wanted to say. As my words trailed off, he quietly filled the silence.
“Just a little longer, Rosaline.”
His voice was husky, his violet eyes darkened with heat—but something about it felt off.
Just like the kiss we shared on the ship, when he’d done it only because others were watching.
Even now, that same feeling lingered.
As if he were pleading with me, his lips brushed mine again. But this time, it stayed just a kiss—nothing more.
The hand that held my chin slipped down my neck, grazing my shoulder. His palm was warmer than the midsummer sun.
Would I ever know his true reason for this someday?
Just as I began to wonder how long this kiss would last—
The door suddenly burst open.
Without even a knock.
