Kazerre turned his back and silently retraced his steps.

Crossing the main hall and swiftly ascending to the second floor, he reached the end of the corridor in no time. His steady strides remained unbroken, even as he rounded the corner.

The fifth room down the angled hallway—Aveline’s private reception room, accessible only to those close to her.

As Kazerre approached, the maid standing guard quickly opened the door.

“My lady, the duke has arrived.”

It was a seamless announcement, as if she had anticipated his arrival.

Without a word, Kazerre strode into the reception room.

Aveline was lounging lazily on the sofa, nearly reclining. Her hair was secured in an updo with a long string of white pearls, and the flowing sky-blue fabric of her dress spread over the couch like rolling clouds.

Her posture tilted at an angle, made her look like a bored goddess observing the world from the heavens.

“Welcome, Kazerre.”

As soon as she spotted him, her golden eyes, previously filled with boredom, lit up with life—though she still made no effort to rise.

Kazerre, approaching with a resigned expression, immediately noticed that her dress was made of the same fabric as his cravat. A detail impossible to ignore—an unmistakable statement that they were a pair.

Realizing this, he suddenly found his cravat, which had felt comfortable moments ago, now suffocatingly tight around his throat.

“You’re late. At this rate, we’ll be tardy.”

Aveline extended her left hand toward him with slow, graceful movements.

The irony of her chiding him for being late while half-sprawled on the couch was almost laughable.

Kazerre grasped her offered hand and firmly pulled her up. Naturally, he didn’t forget to call out her behavior with his ever-cool tone.

“If you were that concerned, you could’ve come out ahead of time.”

Aveline, drawn to her feet by his hand, responded with a flawless smile instead of words. Today, her lips were painted an even deeper shade of red, curving into a seductive arc with effortless elegance.

“You know me, Kazerre. I would never do such a thing.”

Of course, he knew that all too well—almost to the point of exhaustion.

Every time they had an engagement together, she never stepped out of her room. She would not move an inch unless he personally came to fetch her.

“Why on earth…”

Kazerre was about to ask why she insisted on being so troublesome but sighed quietly instead.

It was his usual method of keeping his emotions in check.

And, of course, the one person who always made him resort to it was Aveline.

However, his effort to hold back was in vain. Aveline smiled knowingly as if she understood everything.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want to see you come to get me.”

“…”

“You know, Kazerre? The look on your face—when you show up despite hating it—it’s actually quite adorable.”

Aveline’s bare hand lightly patted Kazerre’s cheek twice. It was a touch befitting a sophisticated lady toying with a naïve young boy.

Kazerre immediately seized her wrist, his voice low and rough.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Hearing that, I almost feel like some villain deceiving an innocent maiden.”

“Aveline Croeta.”

“Don’t be so serious. It’s not like your face will wear out just because I touch it.”

“You really…”

Just as Kazerre was about to retort, Aveline effortlessly slipped her arm through his, looping it around him like a snake moving without a sound.

Kazerre looked down at her hand for a moment.

Her slender, pale arm was nestled between his solid forearm, standing out like a painting done in a completely different style.

Even in the middle of their arguments, his boiling anger would dissipate without a trace whenever he caught sight of her delicate wrist.

Seeing himself throwing his full force of emotions at such a fragile woman made him feel utterly pathetic.

“…Forget it. Let’s go.”

Swallowing his words as always, Kazerre silently escorted Aveline forward.

The sharp tension from moments ago had vanished without a trace.

His face, now completely free of irritation, began to show hints of boredom seeping in.

Aveline, walking beside him, watched his profile—the man who found everything dull, the man who never once turned back to look at her.

*

The two headed for Elysia Hall, where the crown prince’s birthday banquet was being held.

With its three-story-high ceiling, Elysia Hall served as the grand banquet hall for imperial events.

Since the interior was constantly redecorated according to the preferences of the banquet’s host, some nobles attended these imperial gatherings solely to gain insight into the royal family’s tastes.

Today’s Elysia Hall was no exception, showcasing the crown prince’s preferences in every detail.

Like rivers of gold, small fountains placed throughout the hall overflowed with sparkling champagne. Tables were filled with exotic dishes heavily seasoned with rare spices.

Even the curtains by the windows and the vases decorating the room were adorned with golden ribbons, the imperial family’s signature color.

It was a lavish scene that was almost exhausting to the eyes.

“The Duke of Evuteren and Lady Croeta have arrived!”

At the steward’s announcement, all eyes in the hall turned toward the entrance.

Aveline pulled Kazerre slightly closer to her and stepped forward with unwavering confidence, striding into the sea of gazes.

When they ascended the central staircase covered in crimson velvet, the crown prince, reclining on his golden throne, looked down at them with an air of arrogance.

His deep golden hair, slicked with scented oil, gleamed under the light.

“The Empire’s Little Sun, His Highness Crown Prince Philape Mazengarve, we pay our respects.”

Aveline and Kazerre bowed in unison before the Crown Prince.

Seated on the throne draped in layers of golden ceremonial robes and a cape, the Crown Prince looked down at them with crimson eyes gleaming with faint amusement, as if regarding all beneath him as insignificant.

“You’ve made quite the rare visit, Duke.”

“My sincerest congratulations on your birthday, Your Highness.”

“And yet you still greet me so formally. I might start feeling hurt.”

Despite the seemingly friendly tone, Kazerre remained rigid. Instead of relaxing, he straightened his back even more and lowered his gaze with precise formality.

He knew that the Crown Prince’s words were a trap—if he let his guard down even slightly, the prince would bear his fangs without hesitation.

As the Empire’s sole heir, the Crown Prince held his authority in the highest regard. And equally, he never extended mercy to those who challenged it.

His cold regard toward Kazerre was no exception.

The Evuteren bloodline, nearly as noble as that of the imperial family itself, the divine favor bestowed upon Kazerre, his undeniable perfection both in appearance and ability—all of it was a thorn in the Crown Prince’s side, like a canker sore inside one’s mouth, impossible to ignore.

“Your Highness, please don’t trouble my fiancé too much.”

Breaking the silence in Kazerre’s stead, Aveline smoothly intervened, effortlessly dissolving the tension that had begun to take hold.

Gone was the sharp, calculating presence she often displayed; instead, she smiled as gently as a petal drifting in the spring breeze.

The Crown Prince clicked his tongue in mild irritation.

“Your fiancé is as dull as ever. How do you plan to live with such a stone of a man?”

“He has so much already—surely he can do without something as trivial as entertainment.”

“Well, I suppose just looking at that face would make the time fly by.”

The Crown Prince pursed his lips as he scrutinized Kazerre with a sharp gaze, searching for a weakness.

Kazerre endured the scrutiny without wavering. Despite the tension in the Crown Prince’s crimson eyes, Kazerre had no interest in provoking him.

Whatever the Crown Prince thought of him, it would not shake the unwavering loyalty of the Duke of Evuteren.

The Evuteren family had ruled the North long before the Mazengarve Empire was founded. Their lands comprised nearly half the empire’s total territory, yet they had chosen to remain part of the Empire rather than establish an independent kingdom.

The reason was simple: the vast northern lands were barren, incapable of sustaining themselves. Even if they held an abundance of minerals and gemstones, wealth was meaningless without food.

The North could not survive in isolation—it required trade and cooperation with the fertile regions. Thus, being part of the Empire was far more beneficial, ensuring stable grain supplies through active commerce.

But the imperial family had always distrusted Evuteren, keeping the North in check through excessive taxation to limit its military strength or leveraging food supplies to exert pressure.

The Crown Prince before him was no different, constantly testing Kazerre’s patience.

‘It’s nothing more than a childish game.’

The North was an inseparable part of the Empire. Even the Crown Prince would need a justifiable reason to turn them into an enemy.

That was why Kazerre remained unmoved. The Crown Prince’s petty hostility was something he could endure alone. He had no intention of giving him an excuse to interfere with the North.

And besides…

“Of course. As long as I have the Duke of Evuteren, I need nothing else.”

His own betrothed had spoken in his defense.

While Kazerre had been away in the North, Aveline had risen to the pinnacle of high society, forging a close connection with the Crown Prince.

At first, it had been a mere acquaintance. But when the Emperor fell ill five years ago and the Crown Prince seized power, Aveline had become one of his most trusted confidantes.

Perhaps she found her position particularly satisfying, for she had whispered to Kazerre incessantly upon his return to the capital:

‘Remember, Kazerre. You must be loyal to His Highness the Crown Prince.’

Her gaze had been so fervent in those moments that he almost mistook it for love.

Of course, that illusion had shattered instantly when Aveline had laughed in his face at the mere suggestion.

“When was the wedding again?”

“In less than six months,” Aveline answered coyly, her cheeks tinged with a soft pink blush.

Her rosy complexion made her look utterly enchanting.

Yet, unlike the bride-to-be radiating anticipation, Kazerre remained as expressionless as ever, detached from the conversation.

‘Has it really been two years since I returned to the capital?’

When he arrived, Aveline had already set their wedding date—two and a half years in the future. He had assumed they would marry immediately upon his return, but the schedule had been unexpectedly delayed.

Still, he had not questioned it.

The marriage itself was inevitable.

Besides, Aveline was already living in the Evuteren estate. At that point, the date of the ceremony seemed insignificant.

“So, Lady Aveline will finally become the Duchess of Evuteren?”

“It is the greatest honor.”

The more Aveline beamed with pride, the more Kazerre felt uneasy.

Could there be any other moment when it became so painfully clear that to her, he was nothing more than a prize—a prestigious title to wear like an ornament?

“I shall look forward to that day. In the meantime, enjoy the evening.”

With those words, the Crown Prince dismissed them, offering his blessing in advance for their union.

At last, they had passed the first grueling trial of the banquet. Kazerre wasted no time in bowing and descending the stairs.

Of course, another trial remained.

Determined to get it over with as quickly as possible, Kazerre abruptly extended his hand toward Aveline.