Chapter 5

Isabelle was wandering through a dream. Just like the dream she’d had on the carriage before, she was happily running through a snow-covered garden on small feet clad in red boots.

The young girl stopped every now and then, scooping up handfuls of snow with her small hands. She threw the snowballs at the boy following her, then ran away, repeating the game over and over. The boy lightly dodged the clumsily formed snowballs and walked slowly behind her.

Though he watched her with a worried gaze, as if afraid she might fall, he seemed to have no intention of disturbing her stroll. Soon, the girl’s pace quickened, and the scene rushed forward, skipping several seasons in an instant.

The seasons that had been rushing by finally came to a halt in the sweltering heat of summer. At high noon, under a scorching sun, the girl hid behind a tree, her gaze fixed on a single spot.

At the end of her sight, her father and the boy were clashing swords.

The boy’s body was drenched in sweat, his thin shirt clinging to him like a second skin, revealing the hard muscles beneath.

The girl’s face flushed as she watched him. Ever since her breasts had begun to bud—no, even before that—her face would turn red and her heart would pound whenever she saw the boy. She also found herself getting angry and upset over the smallest things.

Whenever the boy smiled, his eyes crinkling gently as his sapphire-blue irises sparkled, the maids around him would blush, regardless of their age.

‘No! Don’t look. He’s mine. Smile only for me.’

The emotions she couldn’t voice clung to her heart, a heavy, suffocating mass. The girl didn’t yet know that the feeling filling her chest was jealousy. She simply wished the boy would smile only for her.

He had once treated her as if she were his entire world, but he was changing. Now, he seemed to value his sword practice with his father more than his time with her. The bitterness welled up, threatening to spill over into tears.

Leaving him behind as he continued his training, she fled to the greenhouse in the backyard. There, tucked away in a corner, she sobbed uncontrollably. Her chest, which had begun to grow slightly, ached with a dull, throbbing pain.

After a long while, she had just begun to calm down when she sensed a presence behind her.

“My Young Lady. Why are you crying like this?”

“I don’t know. Go away!”

“What has you in such a foul mood today?”

“Nothing!”

The boy asked, his voice tinged with amusement yet laced with concern. The girl shouted back, hiding her face, which was surely a mess from tears. The thought of her swollen eyes and red nose made her absolutely refuse to show him.

“I can’t tell if you’re in a foul mood unless you show me your face. Come on, turn around.”

“No. I won’t!”

She shook her head vehemently, but she was no match for the boy’s strength. When he forced her to turn, she saw her own tear-streaked face reflected in his blue eyes. The girl burst into fresh sobs.

“Ran, I hate you…! Waaaaah, my face… H-hic, it’s a mess…”

“My dear Young Lady. You’re crying again. It’s alright. You’re still beautiful, even after crying.”

The boy chuckled softly and pulled the girl into a tight embrace. He must have come straight here after changing only his sweat-soaked shirt, for his body still radiated a lingering heat and the scent of sweat. Yet, she felt no distaste. The comforting, familiar scent of his skin, which she had known since childhood, gradually calmed her sobs.

“Shh, no more tears now. And tell me why you were crying.”

“Ran… hic… I’m not… hic… precious to you anymore, am I?”

The girl, her sobs still subsiding, mumbled into his chest, her face buried deep against him.

“What? How can you say that? You’re the most precious thing in the world to me.”

“Liar!”

The girl lifted her head and glared at the boy, as if demanding he stop lying.

Anyone else would have been flustered, desperate to soothe her, but the boy remained composed. Reading the intense possessiveness in her sharply gleaming amber eyes, he curved his eyes into crescents and lifted the corners of his mouth, trying to hide the satisfaction swelling within him. His tone was gentle as always, yet an undeniable joy saturated his voice.

“You are the most precious thing in the world. Just as I belong to you, you belong to me.”

The boy whispered and pressed a light kiss to her tear-stained cheek.

“So please don’t cry, my Young Lady.”

***

Even though it was just a dream, the sensation of lips against her cheek felt so real it made her skin tingle. But it wasn’t quite the feeling of lips. It felt more like a hand.

‘A hand?’

The moment she felt the distinct touch of a hand stroking her cheek, Isabelle’s eyes snapped open.

“You’re awake.”

Her head still throbbed, and she frowned, turning toward the voice. Ran was sitting on the edge of her bed, looking down at her.

“I had a dream,” she murmured.

“A dream?”

A strange, urgent need to tell him about it seized her.

Ran raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback that she’d brought up her dream the moment she woke. But his expression quickly softened, and he gestured for her to continue.

“In my dream, I was a young girl, and there was always a boy with me. His name was also Ran, and he had blue eyes just like yours. But…”

Isabelle trailed off, gauging his reaction as her gaze remained fixed on his hair, which was as black as the deepest night.

“But? Go on, tell me more.”

“But that boy… he had golden hair. It’s all so vivid, as if I’ve experienced it myself. But I have no memory of any of this, and it’s so confusing.”

“I see. Don’t worry too much about the dream. You’ll find out everything soon enough.”

“What?”

His disjointed explanation only left her more bewildered.

‘Was it really just a dream?’

The question gnawed at her, but as she had told him, she had no memory of these events. And yet, he said she would soon find out everything?

Isabelle looked at Ran, her eyes pleading for an explanation. But he only leaned down to smooth her disheveled hair, offering no words.

Staring into his eyes—so much like the boy who had watched her in her dreams—Isabelle impulsively reached for his raven-black hair.

She felt as if the black would stain her hand, revealing a hidden color beneath. But instead of any stain, his silky strands slipped through her fingers.

“Is your hair… really black?” she asked.

“Does it matter?” he replied, catching her hand, pulling it down, and pressing a kiss to her fingertips.

His moist lips touched her skin, and his full, red tongue flicked out to lightly lick her fingertips before retreating.

‘Does the color of his hair really matter?’

Isabelle was thrown into confusion. If his hair had been golden, it would have been a critical matter. Not only would it have matched the boy in her dreams, but golden hair was also the mark of the Imperial Family.

“Tell me your full name.”

“To you, I am simply Ran.”

“No. I want to know who you are.”

He dodged her question with a smooth smile, but Isabelle shook her head. She couldn’t keep letting things slide like this, swept away by the current of their circumstances.

Their first encounter had been under the influence of an aphrodisiac, but she had not resisted. She had also chosen not to protest her confinement here. Strangely, she wanted to stay by his side. In fact, she feared that if he sent her away, she might never see him again.

Isabelle knew her feelings were strange, but the sheer satisfaction of being wanted by him made her turn a blind eye to her own anxiety and doubt. Yet, apart from those emotions, she felt she now had to learn his true identity.

Seeing Isabelle wait for his answer with a stubborn expression, Ran sighed softly and straightened his bent posture. Isabelle rose from her lying position to sit up. He propped a pillow against the headboard so she could lean back comfortably, his face etched with hesitation.

“Are you truly curious?”

“Yes, I am.”

Her amber eyes fixed on him. Though she would learn everything soon enough, it was only natural for Isabelle—who knew nothing—to be curious. Telling her wouldn’t be difficult. He had simply hoped she would realize the truth on her own after regaining all her memories.

Watching Isabelle, who did not remember him, was actually quite amusing. Even he had not expected to see the memories she had locked away in her dreams. As he lost himself in thought, Isabelle watched him expectantly, as if urging him to speak.

With a light snap of his fingers, his jet-black hair began to slowly turn golden from the tips upward.

It felt as if sunlight were shining in a moonless night.

The black hair had suited him perfectly, but seeing him with golden hair made him look as if he had finally donned his true attire.

‘Is this what an incarnation of the Sun God would be like?’ Isabelle wondered. ‘He is like the brilliant sun itself.’

“Allow me to introduce myself formally, Lady Isabelle. I am Feiran Mathias de Grand.”

“…C-Crown Prince!”

Upon hearing his name, Isabelle startled and began to slip out of bed to curtsy, but he stopped her with a gentle shake of his head.

“I did not reveal my name to demand such formalities from you.”

“But…”

He offered a reassuring smile to the visibly flustered Isabelle.

When she first realized she was inside the Imperial Palace, she had wondered if he might be a member of the Imperial Family. But his black hair had immediately dismissed the idea. Of course, he could have dyed it, but his hair was a black so deep and dark it seemed impossible to achieve with dye. And yet, magic. Who would have ever imagined he had used magic to change his hair color?

The golden hair now shining brilliantly before her eyes served as a poignant reminder: the man standing before her was truly the Crown Prince.

Her heart ached.

What was this feeling? Fear?

No, it was anxiety.

The moment she learned he was the Crown Prince, anxiety washed over her. Isabelle looked at Ran with confused eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“…”

He asked, stroking the corner of her eye—which seemed on the verge of filling with a misty haze—with his thumb.

‘Why?’

Isabelle asked herself.

The answer came easily. Biting her inner cheek, she slowly opened her mouth.

“I heard His Highness the Crown Prince already has a fiancée.”

“Ah, you mean that.”

Feiran smiled mischievously, as if he’d just heard something amusing. The way his eyes curved into a smile was alluring.

She had always thought his smile was beautiful when his hair was black, but now, with his golden hair and blue eyes, “beautiful” was hardly a word sufficient to describe him.

His features were too delicate for a man, with a smooth, rounded forehead and a nose that descended in a graceful curve. Below it, his lips were shaped so perfectly that one might wonder if God himself had sculpted his face. In contrast to his refined features, his trained body was composed of firm, well-defined muscles.

Mesmerized by his smile, Isabelle suddenly recalled his naked form. Her face flushed crimson, and she lowered her gaze.

“Fiancée, is it? I didn’t correct the rumor since it wasn’t technically wrong, but it seems the whole capital has heard it now.”

“If she finds out I’m with Your Highness, she’ll be heartbroken.”

“Will she? Perhaps we should test that theory.”

“Ah… W-Wait…”

She still had so many questions for him. Was he the same ‘Ran’ from her dreams? Why was she dreaming of events she had no memory of, yet experienced them so vividly?

She felt that asking him would give her the answer. But Ran seemed to have no intention of answering her question. Closing the distance in a single stride, he grabbed the back of her head and kissed her roughly.

As if to rehydrate her lips—which had grown pale and slightly dry after she’d been unconscious for half the day—he diligently licked them with his tongue. Tracing the outline of Isabelle’s lips, he bit and sucked at them with his firm teeth. Only when her lips were swollen and flushed did he seem satisfied, finally slipping into her mouth to seek out her tongue. No matter how much she tried to evade him, escaping within the small space of her mouth had been impossible from the start. He bit and sucked her tongue as if punishing it for mentioning his fiancée. Like a violent wave, he seemed poised to devour her whole.

Ran’s movements gradually pushed Isabelle’s body back until she was once again lying on the bed. He climbed over her, his lips meeting hers, while one hand caressed her full breast.

The nipple, hidden beneath her dress and lingerie, stiffened in anticipation of his touch. He tried to pull off the dress with one hand, but when it didn’t come loose, he let out a frustrated groan, broke the kiss, and half-rose from his position.

“As I thought, this kind of clothing is not to my taste.”

With a slight frown, he looked at the dress wrapped in layers around Isabelle’s body. He reached behind her and untied the top knot of the dress’s fastening straps. Then, he pulled a few of the crisscrossing straps below it to loosen them.

“It’s not my preference, but I should respect yours.”

“Hah…”

Isabelle tilted her head, wondering why he hadn’t untied the laces completely. Then she understood his intention as he yanked the bodice of her dress down.

Her undergarments were pulled down with it, exposing her pale breasts. They swayed, their lush shapes like pristine white pudding. He took one cherry-like nipple into his mouth, while his fingers pinched and rubbed the other.

“Hngh… Ahh…”

With every flick of his tongue and every brush of his fingers against her nipples, a moan escaped Isabelle’s lips. Her lower body responded to his touch, quickly becoming so wet that her underwear was soon soaked through.

“It’s uncomfortable, isn’t it? Just as I thought.”

Ran whispered as he caressed her ear with his tongue. His languid, sensual voice sent a shiver down her spine, and her body trembled in anticipation of what was to come. He seemed displeased with the voluminous, layered folds of her dress.

“It can’t be helped,” he murmured, flipping Isabelle onto her stomach.

Before she could recover from the shock of her new position, Ran lifted her slender waist. With her head and chest pressed against the bed and her hips raised, Isabelle tried to push herself up in shame. But as her skirt fell over her, pinning her upper body down, her efforts were futile.

Her small panties, white stockings that reached her thighs, and the garter belt holding them in place were now fully exposed. Ran smiled brightly, clearly pleased by the lewd sight.

“Ah, I didn’t expect this… Not bad. No, I like it.”

“N-no. Don’t look.”

“Look at what, exactly?”

He asked softly, but Isabelle couldn’t bring herself to say where. She only bit her lip. She could feel his burning gaze fixed on her buttocks. She wanted to pull her skirt back down, but the more she moved, the more the fabric just tangled around her body.

“Hngh…”

“Relax. Spread your legs.”

His hand stroked the bare skin of her upper thigh, just above where the stockings began. Then, he slipped his knee between her legs, forcing them wider. Even his gentle touch felt scorching. Isabelle tried to close her legs, her face crumpled in distress, but it was useless.

“You’re soaking wet.”

“Hah… N-no…”

He spread his palm flat, covering her panties and rubbing them with a slow, deliberate pressure. The sensation of the wet fabric being pressed and rubbed was maddeningly erotic. He massaged her with his broad palm, then lightly scratched the fabric with his fingertips. She pressed her hand over her mouth to stifle the moans escaping her lips, but it was useless. Her thighs trembled uncontrollably at his touch. Her dainty toes curled tight, never uncurling, as if struggling to endure the ceaseless stimulation.

“Hah, hah… Please! Hngh.”

“Please what, Belle? What do you want me to do to you?”

It wasn’t enough. Touching her through her panties was nowhere near enough. A thirst clawed at her. Her mind was filled with the desperate longing for him to stir her inside. Her eyes grew red with the surging tide of lust. Isabelle was startled by her own lewdness, but her thirst was too intense to care about such things. She just wanted him to fill her wetness.

“The… the panties… Hah…”

“What should I do with them?”

“Take them off… and put… put it in… Hngh!“

As he rubbed her hardened clitoris through the fabric, Isabelle trembled and blurted out her desire.

“As you wish.”

Ran smiled in satisfaction at Isabelle’s answer and quickly stripped off her wet panties. With her legs spread and hips raised, her pretty little hole was fully exposed. He inserted a finger, stirring it in a slow circle, and Isabelle let out a breathless moan as she began to gush. He added another finger, rubbing her inner walls and moving them back and forth rapidly, sending a stream of arousal flowing down her thighs.

“Look at how much you’re leaking. You’re going to soak the sheets completely.”

“Hah… Please… don’t say things like… Ahh!”

He pressed his lips against her flushing entrance, whispering as he breathed hot air onto her. The mere sensation of his lips almost touching her opening made her inner walls tighten even further.

Ran’s tongue worked relentlessly. Still not satisfied, he used his fingers to stretch open the entrance of her fully dilated, pink hole, revealing the tender, pale pink flesh inside. His cock, already throbbing with arousal, felt as if it might burst at any moment.

As he pressed his nose against her, the scent of her slickness filled his lungs, igniting an insatiable thirst. He flattened his tongue and pushed it deep into her gaping hole, lapping up every single drop.

Like a starving beast, he buried his face between Isabelle’s thighs, inhaling her obscenely sweet musk. He pressed his lips to her and drank greedily from the overflowing nectar, sating his bottomless craving.

Isabelle buried her face in the pillow, sobbing softly. With each sob, her plump ass quivered, grinding against his face. Could there be any greater pleasure? Ran chuckled darkly, devouring her. No matter how much he drank, the agonizing thirst refused to fade. He felt he could drink from her for a lifetime and still never have enough.

Ran licked his lips, wet with her essence, and rose to his feet, casting aside his cumbersome clothes. The sight of her—still trembling, legs spread, lying prone in a posture of pure obscenity—sent his cock throbbing, so engorged it felt as if it might burst. He had intended to be gentle, but his hands, driven by a restless urgency, tore at Isabelle’s dress as he stripped it from her. When the voluminous gown and undergarments were finally gone, only her garter belt and stockings, white as her skin, remained. Leaving them on had been a wonderful idea.

As Ran gazed at Isabelle, disheveled and exposed on the bed, the veins on his cock bulged, strained to the breaking point.

He sat on the edge of the bed beside her, leaning against the headboard. Reaching out, he caught her hand—which she was still trying to use to cover her breasts in shame—and pressed his lips to her fingertips.

“Would you touch me with this beautiful hand today?”

“What? How… how could I…”

Isabelle trembled at the sight of his massive, weapon-like cock. It was already swollen so large that it seemed to reach her navel. Her mind went blank at the thought of something so immense piercing her body.

Ran smiled gently, as if to reassure her, and guided her hand to wrap around him. It was softer than she expected. And so hot.

As she gripped his penis—too large for a single hand to even hold—she felt the rough thrum of veins against her palm. Swallowing hard at the violent pulse that seemed ready to explode, Isabelle pushed herself up to kneel beside him. When she gently stroked him with both hands, a low, thin vibration rumbled in his throat.

Startled, she lifted her head and met Ran’s flushed eyes. He smiled, as if urging her to do more. Emboldened by his smile, Isabelle moved her hand faster, and a clear fluid seeped from the tip. The more she sped up, the larger the cock in her hand seemed to grow.

“Ah, yes. Right there. Faster… Haa…”

His low, husky voice, thick with desire, emboldened her. Isabelle moved her hand rapidly over the shaft while her other hand grasped and stroked the round testicles below. Letting out a deep groan, Ran lightly squeezed Isabelle’s buttocks before sliding his hand lower, rubbing the entrance of her open folds with his fingertips.

Trembling from the stimulation he provided, Isabelle didn’t pull away. Instead, she lifted her hips and spread her legs wider, inviting his hand deeper inside.

Seizing the opportunity, his fingers slid into her scorching-hot interior. As he stroked her inner walls, Isabelle’s upper body collapsed. Her breasts flattened against his thighs, losing their shape.

Though her hand still gripped his member, she was too breathless from the intrusion inside her to stroke him any further. When he withdrew his fingers, which had been moving rapidly within her, a string of clear fluid trailed after them.

Ran smiled with satisfaction and lifted the panting woman, who was still holding her hips high. Now seated on his lap, Isabelle looked down at him with hazy eyes.

“Now, lift your hips and put it in yourself.”

As she moved, Ran’s hard cock rubbed against her ass. Her aching heat made her entrance twitch, practically begging him to slide inside, but Isabelle shook her head. Touching him had been shocking enough—the idea of grabbing him and inserting it herself was unthinkable.

“If you don’t do it yourself today, I won’t let you fuck me,” she whimpered. “Is that what you want?”

“Hah… you’re so… so mean,” he groaned.

As if punishing her, he slid two fingers into her meltingly soft interior, which was already craving something much thicker. The heat inside her was so intense that a couple of fingers weren’t enough to satisfy her. His slow, shallow thrusts—barely touching her—only drove her mad with frustration. Her hips bucked, desperate for the hard, full-bodied stimulation she craved.

Unable to bear it any longer, Isabelle finally lifted her hips, hesitating. She fumbled and grabbed his penis, which was burning hot and felt as if it would burst at any moment, but she didn’t know what to do and faltered.

“I have no choice. Let me help you.”

“Hah… Ahh!”

Ran covered her hand with his own and guided it into place. His member pressed against her wet entrance. As Ran moved his hand, the blunt head of his penis rubbed against the flushed, aroused flesh, stimulating her. The arousal that had flowed out wet the head of his penis at the entrance and trickled down, soaking his shaft.

Ran released her hand and gripped Isabelle’s waist with both hands.

“Now, lower your hips.”

“Hah, ahh!”

As Isabelle faltered, he held her waist and helped her lower herself. This was different from when she’d taken him in while lying down. She could feel him filling her completely, leaving no empty space. As she cautiously moved her body, a low, animalistic groan escaped his throat.

“Move more. Yes, just like that. Hngh!“

Following his instructions, Isabelle slowly began to move. At first, it felt awkward, but as she gripped his shoulders and shifted her weight, she started to understand. Instinctively, she learned how to chase a deeper, more intense pleasure.

‘More. More. More.’

Isabelle’s movements quickened, driven by her craving for even greater stimulation.

Ran’s eyes squeezed shut and a soft moan escaped his lips with every movement of her body. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. Her ridged inner walls tightened around his swollen penis, threatening to devour it.

Ran’s breathing grew increasingly ragged. Feeling dizzy, as if his head were spinning, he pushed himself up, grabbed the back of Isabelle’s head, and kissed her.

He frantically sought out her small tongue, rubbing against it and sucking her lips. He devoured the inside of her mouth, his kiss fierce, as if trying to steal every breath she exhaled. In an instant, their positions reversed. Now, Isabelle was the one lying on her back on the bed.

“Hah, Belle…”

“Hah, ahh! Ran… haaah!”

He buried his face in the crook of Isabelle’s neck, thrusting his hips with renewed vigor.

Thwack, thwack, thwack!

The obscene sounds filled her ears as his thick length slid in and out of her. Their ragged breaths tangled together, and a shuddering thrill shot through her entire body. Ran’s face contorted as her inner walls clenched tightly around him with every thrust. He was on the verge of losing control.

He pulled Isabelle into his arms and drove himself in to the hilt. The heat radiating from her threatened to melt him away. His vision blurred. His engorged cock erupted, spewing semen deep into her womb. As they remained joined, the mixture of their fluids slowly leaked from the gap between them.

Feeling his hot breath against her neck, Isabelle’s mind grew hazy. She blinked slowly, her eyes finally fluttering shut.

***

Shifting in bed, Isabelle realized that the warmth she had felt throughout the night was gone. Opening her eyes, she found herself alone in the spacious bed, just as she had feared. Ran, who had held her until dawn, was nowhere to be seen.

Judging by the sunlight streaming through the window, it seemed to be midday. Unlike her, who slept this late, Ran—being the Crown Prince—must be busy. She knew it was only natural for her to wake up alone, yet she felt a sense of disappointment all the same.

Nearly a week had passed since she arrived here. Save for the second day, she had spent every single night in his arms.

It terrified her how dangerously deep she had fallen for him.

‘Did I give myself to him so easily simply because he is the Crown Prince?’

She quickly shook her head at the thought.

Even before learning his identity, she had felt an inexplicable pull toward him. Furthermore, Isabelle recalled the dreams that had grown increasingly vivid since meeting Ran—dreams so distinct they felt like lived memories. The Ran within those dreams was the exact image of the Crown Prince.

If they weren’t mere dreams, had Crown Prince Ran spent his childhood with her in the Northern territory? If so, why couldn’t she remember it?

Though he seemed to hold the answers, whenever Isabelle asked about her dreams, he deftly diverted her attention elsewhere.

While she pondered that she must get a definitive answer from him today, time slipped away.

Having likely noticed that she was awake, a maid waiting outside knocked gently on the door.

“Come in.”

Covering her exposed body with the duvet, Isabelle watched the maid enter moments later. Realizing that displaying herself like this no longer embarrassed her as it had on the first day, Isabelle sighed softly, surprised by her own change. Yet there was no point in hiding it now; the maids had already seen the flushed, reddish marks all over her body while washing her.

Stepping out after bathing, she found a dress prepared that differed from her usual attire. Unlike the garments she had worn over the past few days, this one clearly appeared meant for going outside. Isabelle cast a questioning look at the maid, but as expected, the maid offered no answers.

Though unable to fathom why Ran had sent an outing dress, Isabelle quietly allowed herself to be attended to. After a light touch of makeup concluded their service, the maids withdrew—and in place of the man she awaited, his aide appeared.

“I am Halo Lopez, aide to His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince. It is an honor to meet the Marquis’ daughter.”

“Yes. It is an honor to meet you as well, Lord Lopez.”

No one other than Ran and the maids had ever entered this room. For him to send his aide now felt terribly strange.

Despite his gentle, smiling face, Isabelle grew tense. Soothing her anxiety with a soft smile, Halo spoke up.

“I have been commanded to escort you back to the Marquis’ estate.”

“Pardon?”

Isabelle asked again, wondering if she had misheard. When she had pleaded so earnestly to be sent back, he had refused; now, he was suddenly telling her to return? She must have misheard.

“To the Marquis’ estate, you say?”

“Yes, that is correct. A carriage is prepared outside. Shall we?”

Isabelle was at a complete loss.

Just a few hours ago, he had held her with such burning passion; what on earth did this mean?

Gazing at Halo with confused eyes, Isabelle opened her trembling lips.

“Ran… No. Please allow me to see His Imperial Highness.”

“My apologies, Lady Isabelle. His Highness is currently occupied preparing for the engagement announcement next week.”

“The engagement announcement…”

Isabelle muttered with a blank face.

‘The engagement announcement…’

He, who had laughed as if entertained and dismissed it as a mere rumor, seemed intent on making that rumored engagement a reality. And she was being cast out for the sake of that fiancée.

Her mind went ice-cold. Isabelle bit the inside of her lip, desperately holding back the tears threatening to spill.

Following behind Halo out of the palace and boarding the waiting carriage, Isabelle moved her feet mechanically. Neither the magnificent palace nor the beautiful gardens registered in her sight. Only the realization that she had been discarded lingered in her mind, turning her vision entirely grey. As the carriage door shut and it jolted into motion, she finally realized she was alone.

Her suppressed sorrow burst forth. She didn’t care about her neatly applied makeup smearing away. It hurt as though a knife were carving out her chest.

Though the distance between the Imperial Palace and the noble quarter was not far, a considerable amount of time passed before the carriage arrived in front of the Marquis’ estate. Even though she had muffled her sound as much as possible, she could not entirely stop her sobs from leaking out.

The perceptive coachman drove the horses slowly. Unaware of this, Isabelle wiped her tears in a hurry, startled by his voice announcing their arrival.

She ought to look in a mirror and tidy her appearance, but lacking the composure for that now, she merely wiped the tear tracks from her cheeks with her hands and stepped out the open door.

Alighting from the carriage, Isabelle saw her father—who should have been in the North—standing there. Cold to others, her father was immensely warm and gentle toward his only daughter. Forgetting all noble decorum, Isabelle—her face a complete mess after crying for so long in the carriage—ran into her father’s arms.

“Father.”

“Look at you, such a pretty face turned into a mess. Come, let us go inside.”

Comforting his weeping daughter in his embrace, Marquis Worrel stepped indoors. The glance he cast around their surroundings gleamed sharply, unlike the warmth he had shown Isabelle just moments prior. Even as he signaled the knights with his eyes to maintain strict vigilance, he seemed unable to ease his mind.

Opening the door to her room, the nanny—who had been waiting after hearing news of Isabelle’s return—came rushing over.

“Oh dear, My Lady! Where on earth have you been for an entire week? The Marquis told me not to worry, but… how could I not worry when you weren’t coming home!”

“Nanny.”

Holding onto Isabelle and shedding tears for a long moment, the nanny began checking her over to see if she was hurt anywhere. Feeling her nanny’s warm touch, Isabelle noticed that her father, who had been standing behind her just a moment ago, was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is Father?”

“He is likely in his study. More importantly, what in the world happened?”

Even at her nanny’s worried question, Isabelle could not answer. How could she possibly say she had spent a week as the Crown Prince’s mistress in his palace?

‘A mistress.’

It was the word that best fit her situation, one she had contemplated on her carriage ride back.

Having shared such burning intimacy just hours ago, he had sent her away without so much as a goodbye. And she had even been informed that his engagement would be announced next week.

If he had possessed even a shred of affection for her, he would not have sent her away like this.

Thinking of Ran felt like her heart was tearing apart all over again. Somehow, she had the feeling her father knew where she had been. Yet, she lacked the courage to confirm it directly.

When Isabelle stated with a bitter face that she wished to rest, the nanny tried to call a maid to help her change out of her dress. About to nod out of habit, Isabelle suddenly recalled the marks left on her body and shook her head frantically.

Barely persuading her nanny—who remained suspicious and offered to help herself—to leave, Isabelle painfully changed her clothes on her own. The dress crumpled carelessly on the floor mirrored her own state, casting a gloom over her.

She briefly considered leaving it as it was, but ultimately spread it out carefully so it wouldn’t wrinkle and draped it over the sofa. The mirror reflected a woman wearing a loose, comfortable nightgown, looking just as she had before leaving this room a week ago.

Yet unlike then, beneath her white skin covered by the nightgown lay a scattering of red flowers he had left behind, along with unmistakable bite marks from a man. When all these marks faded, would she be able to treat everything she had experienced with him as mere dreams?

Isabelle fell into thought, stroking the love bites on her neck with her fingertips.

‘A dream—yes, let us think of it as a dream. Then, if I sleep, I will be able to meet him… Ran… all over again.’

Isabelle laid her weary body down upon the bed.