IPWDP 15

Chapter 15:

“This isn’t the kind of story we should be telling.”

It was a cherished memory—but also a painful one. Especially for Ephelia, whose family had vanished in an instant.

“Conversations with adults must be boring for you. Why don’t the two of you go and talk for a bit?”

“I’m fine, Your Majesty.”

“You are Regios’s fiancée, are you not? You should be by the Crown Prince’s side at an occasion like this. Ah, the music has begun—why don’t you two share a dance?”

It sounded like an invitation, but it was practically a command. Regios’s expression froze, and Selune’s eyes sharpened. Selune looked at Ephelia with eyes filled with envy and jealousy.

“Now that I think about it, Lady Selune must be bored. It would’ve been nice if Hailen were here—but where could he have gone?”

“N–no, Your Majesty.”

Selune flinched and hurriedly offered polite words. Even just from the way the Emperor addressed them, anyone could see that his affection for Ephelia had nothing to do with his relationship with the Duke and Duchess.

The adopted daughter, Ephelia, was “our Ephelia.”
The Duke’s real daughter, Selune, was merely “Lady Selune,” the polite title used in society.

Regios gave a cold smile and extended his hand toward Ephelia. She could tell that he wasn’t happy about it. He didn’t like her—no, it was closer to dislike.

“Take my hand, Lady Mirium.”

She placed her gloved hand on his. She knew that he despised this—knew that even through the layers of gloves, he found the touch repulsive.
And yet, her heart still fluttered. Perhaps that was exactly why he disliked her even more.

“You two look wonderful together.”

“Then, please excuse us.”

“Go on.”

She placed her hand on the Crown Prince’s and walked with him toward the center of the ballroom. Behind them, she could sense the Duke and Duchess chatting cheerfully with the Emperor and Empress, but she paid them no mind.

All her thoughts were focused on the Crown Prince beside her.
Just holding his hand made her heart race.
Even knowing that his kindness wasn’t sincere—she didn’t care.

Was this fate?
Did she love him simply because destiny decreed it so?

Led by his hand, they reached the center of the hall. His hand rested at her waist. At his subtle signal, new music began to play. She followed his lead into the dance.

There was a time when dancing with him had been pure joy.

When they were very young, they had practiced dancing together just like this—awkward steps, holding hands, laughing whenever they stepped on each other’s feet.

Now their movements were graceful, elegant, and perfect.
But they no longer smiled at each other as they once did.

Ephelia was the daughter of one of only three ducal families in the Empire, and the Crown Prince’s childhood friend.

Everyone said it was a fated, blessed union.
Everyone—except the Crown Prince himself.

The faint scent from him, the rigid curve of his lips, the beauty in his eyes—it all made her heart tremble.
She didn’t want this moment to end, but the song soon faded.

“I’m thirsty.”

“I’ll bring you something to drink.”

“No, I’ll go myself. Would you like something?”

“Just water, please.”

As soon as the Crown Prince stepped away, whispers rippled through the crowd.

“Do you really think it’s fate?”

“They say the mark appeared.”

“Still, if Lady Mirium truly were His Highness’s destined one, he wouldn’t be so cold to her.”

“I must admit, I have my doubts too.”

They hid their words behind fans, so she couldn’t tell exactly who said what—but they weren’t wrong.
Ephelia lowered her head and gripped the hem of her dress tightly.

She could have lashed out.
But if she caused a scene, the Emperor would surely hear of it. Those who gossiped might be punished or disciplined—but so too would Regios, for being the cause of the rumors.

Then suddenly, the whispering stopped.
A tall glass of water appeared before her. She looked up—Regios was standing there.

She had loved him since they were children. Truly loved him.
He had been radiant—like an angel. Being with him made her happy.
Even before the mark of destiny appeared, she had wished he would be her fated one.
That wish had come true—but why did it hurt so much?

“Take it.”

Ephelia unclenched her hand from her fan and accepted the glass.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

Regios stared at her faint smile—his gaze far too cold for someone looking at his destined partner.

“Let’s go to the terrace.”

“Shouldn’t you return to His Majesty?”

“If I do, he’ll just send me away again. I’d rather stay here.”

She took his offered hand and walked with him toward the terrace.
She didn’t need to listen to know what kind of talk was now happening behind those fans again.

Once the terrace doors closed, the music and chatter grew distant.

“Don’t listen to those things.”

“Pardon?”

“You’re my fiancée. You don’t need to hear such nonsense.”

If Regios had said just one word in her defense, those gossiping ladies would have been unable to attend any gatherings for a while.
But even though he clearly had heard them, he said nothing.
He knew silence would only weaken her standing further—and yet he said nothing.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t handle myself properly…”

“Enough.”

He cut her off mid-sentence, as though even her voice annoyed him.
He leaned against the terrace railing. Ephelia glanced at him cautiously, afraid that even her gaze might displease him.

She knew he didn’t love her—but she didn’t want to be hated.
No, more precisely—she didn’t want to be hated any more than she already was.
But as time passed, his dislike for her only seemed to deepen.

The beautiful night sky stretched behind him.
She couldn’t tell if his beauty made her heart ache because of destiny—or because of love.
Ephelia loved the Crown Prince who despised her.

The faint music and chatter from the ballroom drifted out, but between them hung only a suffocating silence.

When had it become so painful to be alone with him?
Did this silence not bother him at all?
She could hardly breathe from the ache in her chest.

“I’m sorry… for causing trouble.”

“Is ‘I’m sorry’ a habit of yours now?”

“S–sorry, I mean—no…”

“Enough.”

He looked at her with weary disdain. There was only one thing she could say.

“Please, go and talk with the others. You must be busy.”

He was the Crown Prince.
So many people wanted his attention.
Even though this silence and awkwardness made her heart ache, she still wanted to be with him—but he must have found it uncomfortable.

“I’ll tell His Majesty that I was tired and wanted to rest alone.”

“Are you sure?”

A flicker of pity crossed his face—mixed with irritation.
He disliked her, but still felt guilty for her constant, timid consideration.

“Of course. It’s fine.”

“Then… see you later.”

“Yes.”

Regios walked away. She couldn’t tear her eyes from his back.

How did we end up like this, Regios…

Then she saw Selune move up beside him. Ephelia smiled bitterly.
Did destiny truly exist?
And if it did—was one truly obliged to marry their fated one?

Ephelia didn’t know.
But it was something Regios himself sometimes wondered, too.

If only Selune had been his fated match instead—
then maybe he wouldn’t have rejected and pushed Ephelia away like this.
If only fate hadn’t bound them together.

“What are you doing out here alone, Crown Princess-to-be?”

Startled by the sudden voice, Ephelia looked around.
There was no one in sight—it was a balcony, after all.
She was surprised, but not frightened—the voice was familiar.

“Hailen? Where are you?”

“Look down.”

When she leaned over the railing, she saw Hailen poking his head out from the balcony below.

“Do you have to greet me so formally too?”

Hailen was Regios’s younger brother—the Empire’s second prince—and Ephelia’s childhood friend.
Both brothers had once been close with her brothers as well.

“Haha.”

His handsome face was lit with playful mischief.

“Move aside a little. I’m coming up.”

When Ephelia stepped back, Hailen vaulted easily onto the wall, gripped the edge, and climbed up onto her balcony in one smooth motion.

“Why are you out here alone? Did you send my brother away?”

“…You saw?”

“Mm. Unfortunately, I was on the balcony right below.”

“What were you doing down there? You didn’t even attend the ball.”

“Eh, avoiding Father and Mother’s nagging.
‘Be more mature,’ ‘act your age,’ ‘be more like your brother,’—you know the usual.”

Hailen grimaced exaggeratedly.

“Maybe you should try being a bit more like that.”

“Ephelia, not you too!”

Her soft laugh bubbled out.
Finally—she felt like she could breathe again.