Chapter 8
Dahlia took another day off and headed to Boutique Street. It was because the hat she’d intended to gift to the Emperor previously couldn’t be used, and she needed to buy a new one.
‘His Majesty gave me plenty of money, so I need to pick something good this time.’
Dahlia reached for the doorknob of Boutique Ellie, where she’d once run into Lady Pravice. But a bad feeling crept over her.
‘What if I run into someone from the Pravice family again?’
To be honest, Evelyn was scary but easy to deal with. The others from Pravice, however, were just plain scary.
“…No, I’ll pass on this place.”
She let go of the doorknob and turned around—only to bump straight into someone’s chest.
“Ah…! I-I’m so sorry!”
Dahlia bowed reflexively. The gentleman she had collided with responded in a gentle voice.
“It’s alright, milady. Are you hurt at all?”
“…!”
Dahlia looked up instinctively—and covered her mouth in surprise. The man was breathtaking, with striking peppermint-colored hair that few could pull off.
His modest attire and clear blue eyes gave off the impression of an honest man. Blushing without realizing it, Dahlia shook her head.
“I-I’m fine. Not hurt at all.”
“That’s good to hear. And this, you dropped it.”
The gentleman smiled softly as he handed her a handkerchief. Dahlia’s eyes widened when she saw her item in his gloved hand—it was the handkerchief Ulysses had given her. She had almost lost it.
Gripping the handkerchief tightly with both hands, she furrowed her brows and thanked him.
“Thank you. It’s from someone very important to me… If it weren’t for you, I might’ve lost it.”
“No need to thank me.”
With a polite smile, the gentleman began to walk past her. Dahlia, acting on instinct, stopped him.
“Um, sir!”
“Yes?”
He turned back toward her. Blushing, Dahlia asked,
“May I know your name? I’d like to properly thank you later…”
Her shy tone and hesitant excuse made the gentleman’s eyes soften as he answered with a light chuckle.
“Raphael. Raphael Celestian.”
“I—I’m Dahlia Hebe. I’ll definitely thank you again…!”
Raphael gave her a charming smile. He stood there, smiling gently, until Dahlia was completely out of sight. And then, the moment she disappeared from view, he took off the glove that had touched her and tossed it to the ground.
Narrowing his eyes, Raphael thought,
‘…Dahlia Hebe. Doesn’t seem to love the Crown Prince as much as I’d heard.’
Honestly, he hadn’t planned to run into her, nor had he tried to make a good impression. And yet, she blushed all on her own.
Wasn’t she supposed to be head-over-heels in love with Ulysses—so much so that she’d publicly humiliated Evelyn?
‘Well, anyway, it looks like this job will wrap up faster than I expected.’
It had seemed like an interesting love-and-jealousy gig at first. He only regretted it now because he hadn’t expected it to involve the Emperor.
Still, thinking he’d easily pocket the 200 goldens, Raphael made his way cheerfully to his original destination. The moment he opened the door to the boutique, the staff welcomed him warmly.
“Welcome, Marquess. The lady is waiting for you.”
“Oh dear, how long has she been waiting?”
“About five minutes.”
“She must be upset.”
Wearing a troubled look but still smiling, Raphael headed toward the VVIP room where his companion was waiting.
The first thing he saw when he opened the door was a woman with pink-blonde hair fanning herself irritably.
“You’re late.”
Evelyn snapped her fan shut and grumbled. Raphael gave her a polite bow, still smiling.
“My apologies. I ran into someone on the way.”
Evelyn frowned, then waved a hand dismissively at the staff. At her gesture, they began bustling around.
Raphael asked quietly,
“Why did you want to meet here, of all places?”
With a smirk, Evelyn opened her fan again.
“My fiancé shouldn’t be dressed so plainly. If you see something you like, just buy it all.”
She smiled even brighter, as if determined to demonstrate the art of shameless spending.
While they were waiting on the sofa for the staff to bring clothes, Raphael murmured,
“Out of all the boutiques, why this one?”
“I’ve already thrown so many gifts at His Majesty trying to win him over. Wouldn’t it be suspicious if I gave my fiancé something from a lesser place?”
After all, material things were one way to show affection.
This boutique specialized in men’s clothing and only served a select clientele. It had to be top-tier if they wanted to fool the Crown Prince.
Raphael knew this too, but he still sighed and said,
“That’s not the issue. Isn’t this boutique owned by the Duke of Pravice?”
“It is. So? Don’t like the clothes here?”
Henry owned many boutiques. Half were for Evelyn, the rest split between Henry, Tara, and this one—meant for Asil and Douglas.
It had a ready supply of flashy ceremonial clothes for peacock-obsessed Asil, and being a Pravice property meant information leaks could be contained. That’s why she had deliberately chosen this boutique.
Just say you don’t like it. I dare you, Evelyn’s eyes seemed to say.
Raphael quickly shook his head.
“That aside, I wanted to ask… Do your family members know about this contract?”
“Of course. I told them.”
The social world was already in Henry’s palm—secrets wouldn’t last long anyway. Better to come clean than risk some strange misunderstanding.
Asil had looked stunned to learn his allowance was being used for this kind of thing, but too bad. The money was spent already.
Raphael let out a small sigh at Evelyn’s short reply. Just like Evelyn’s infamous temper, the Pravice family was known for their bold personalities. It was clear what he was worried about.
“Don’t worry. I’ve emphasized over and over that you’re just my fake fiancé, and that we’ll end things as soon as the Crown Prince backs off. No one will bother you.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
He seemed genuinely relieved, and Evelyn, hiding her mouth behind her fan, added softly,
“And never mind whether you like the clothes or not. I get it, but don’t let it show. I know you’re cultivating an image of frugality as Marquess Celestian, but during this contract, at least try to look the part.”
“…You’re quite demanding.”
“You thought just anyone could be my fake fiancé? You got 200 goldens, remember?”
Even if Asil had casually handed it over, 200 goldens wasn’t a small sum. Evelyn was used to extravagant spending, but even so.
Raphael, clearly aware of the value of what he’d been paid, chuckled.
“See? Thinking about the money makes you smile, right? All you have to do is play doll for me, and you get paid.”
“You’re absolutely right.”
Pleased with his easygoing attitude, Evelyn smiled and added kindly,
“Don’t worry about acting here. Just don’t look like you’re being forced to perform at the actual party.”
That seemed to prick Raphael’s pride. He smirked and whispered into her ear,
“I think you’re underestimating my acting skills. Who could doubt this face?”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow and looked at him—only to see him already in full romantic-hero mode.
“…”
A moment of disbelief passed—then admiration.
Such brilliant acting skills. Truly a man who ran the underworld while looking like a model citizen.
“You’re really earning your pay.”
With half mockery, half pride, Evelyn fluttered her fan. Just then, the staff returned with a selection of outfits. The designer eagerly explained each one, but Evelyn didn’t really listen.
She picked the most elegant and extravagant white suit—the one that practically screamed wealth—and handed it to Raphael.
“Try this on.”
“Yes, Evelyn.”
Raphael obediently nodded and stepped into the fitting room. It wasn’t long before he emerged, having shed his modest clothes for something dazzling.
It suited him so well, it was as if he’d been born wearing it. Breaking the silence, Evelyn commented,
“Looks good on you. What do you think?”
As mentioned, Raphael usually dressed plainly. He hadn’t hidden his displeasure earlier. Evelyn had planned to make him wear it anyway, but to her surprise, he responded better than expected.
“Evelyn, if it makes me look good in your eyes, I’ll wear anything.”
Still in full heartthrob mode, Raphael’s words made the staff cover their mouths and nudge each other.
For the record, only the Pravice family knew about their contract. The boutique staff didn’t. Evelyn wouldn’t have cared even if Raphael didn’t act here—money could keep mouths shut.
‘But if he can fool these sharp-eyed boutique workers, I won’t have to worry at the party.’
Such convincing performance. Definitely worth 200 goldens.
“Perfect. Wear that to the party.”
Evelyn snapped her fan shut and smiled. Then she pointed at an everyday outfit—one Raphael would never choose for himself. It radiated luxury from every thread.
“Now change into this.”
“Yes, Evelyn.”
Once again, Raphael played along with her dress-up game. While he was changing, Evelyn gave the staff instructions.
“Wrap up that suit and everything else we picked. Send it all to the Marquess’s estate.”
“Yes, milady.”
The staff bustled around, and Raphael returned sooner than she expected. Tilting his head, he asked cheekily,
“Do you like it?”
Like it? Of course. If only judging by looks, he really was her favorite nutcase. She felt like putting pixelated sunglasses on him and showering money around.
‘Now I get why rich male leads always buy the female lead clothes.’
It felt like finding a rough gem and polishing it—or more accurately, like discovering a handsome guy on the street and customizing him to her taste.
“Looks good.”
With that face, no one would question her ditching the Crown Prince. She didn’t even need to drag things out. Just showing up with Raphael at the party might be enough to make Ulysses leave her alone for good.
