Prologue

“Here she comes.”  

At someone’s whisper, the heads of the people gathered in the ballroom all turned in unison. A woman, adorned in a dazzling dress, slowly entered alone.  

At that moment, a wave of gasps rippled through the crowd. It was no wonder—her appearance, as though she had stepped out of a painting, was breathtakingly beautiful.  

Her jet-black hair, snow-white skin, and full, crimson lips captivated everyone’s gaze. When she lifted her long, thick lashes, her striking blue eyes sparkled as if stars were embedded within them.  

“Every time I see her, I can’t help but think how beautiful she is. Don’t you agree? She only seems to share her eyes with His Lordship, Marquis Heathridge, though…”  

“She must take after her mother quite a bit.”  

“Ah, you mean that mother. I heard she was just a maid who helped with the laundry?”  

At someone’s suggestive remark, laughter broke out here and there. Eyes filled with curiosity and disdain scanned the woman from head to toe, as if appraising her.  

“Look at those young men lingering around, trying to talk to the Marquis’ daughter. How shameless!”  

“Well, you can’t entirely blame them. She’s the heir to the Heathridge estate—it’s only natural for them to covet her. Marry her, and everything will be theirs.”  

“They know she’ll just listen to them prattle on about themselves, yet they still shamelessly show their faces. Are they clueless or just thick-skinned?”  

Andrea, who had been walking soundlessly like a butterfly, stopped in front of a pillar near the wall. It was practically her designated spot since the first Imperial banquet she had attended—a corner where she could remain as inconspicuous as possible.  

The large pillar served as a perfect shield to discreetly hide her darkened expression. Half-hidden behind it, she bit the inside of her cheek, pretending not to hear the gossip about her. The voluminous folds of her skirt concealed her trembling hands.  

A reversal of fortune.  

It was a phrase that never failed to come up when people spoke about Andrea. A poor orphan girl who, overnight, became the wealthy Marquis’ daughter—it was a story worthy of the phrase.  

5 years ago, the plague that swept through the Empire spared no one, not even the affluent Marquis Heathridge family. After the Marquis’ wife and two sons succumbed to the disease, the Marquis officially brought Andrea, his illegitimate child, into the family.  

From the back alleys, where the stench of manure never fades, to the luxurious Marquis’ estate; from an abandoned illegitimate child to the sole heiress. It was an enviable stroke of luck.  

But Andrea, the supposed recipient of this fortune, faced the monumental change with nothing but indifference. Or rather, apathy.  

The enormous inheritance, the title of Marquis’ daughter, the pretty dresses, the glamorous banquets, the men vying for her attention…  

Andrea cared little for any of it. In fact, she was constantly battling the urge to abandon it all and flee. At least elsewhere, she wouldn’t have to endure the humiliation she felt here.  

‘The moment you react, you lose. Don’t waver.’  

Andrea wasn’t oblivious to the gossip about her. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t have the thick skin to ignore it entirely.  

Yet, she never missed a single Imperial banquet. Despite knowing she’d be torn apart by gossip, despite knowing it would hurt her.  

And the reason was just one man.  

“The Crown Prince Michael Cherleus Hecet is entering!”  

At the announcement, all eyes turned to the top of the stairs. The doors, which had been closed, swung open, and a warm golden light flooded in from the corridor.  

Moments later, a man, as if cloaked in that light, strode confidently into the ballroom. Small gasps escaped from various corners.  

His dazzling golden hair, like melted sunlight, and his gleaming emerald-green eyes seized everyone’s attention. His vivid colors complemented his striking features perfectly. He was a beautiful man.  

Click, click.  

His light yet never frivolous footsteps echoed. As he descended the stairs and walked toward the center of the hall, there was no hesitation in his stride. It was a natural, almost inevitable confidence, as though he were reclaiming something that had always been his.  

The scattered crowd instinctively gathered around him, forming a circle.  

Michael leisurely scanned the countless eyes fixed on him before speaking.  

“Today, I see only familiar faces. Still, it’s a pleasure to see you all.”  

His voice was soft yet commanding. Michael nodded at a few people in front of him and flashed a bright smile. Those who saw his smile couldn’t help but smile back.  

From his handsome appearance to his cheerful personality and the elegance ingrained in his every move, Michael had a charm that drew people’s affection and loyalty. It was the demeanor of a man born with noble blood.  

The entire Empire adored him, but his charm was particularly explosive among women. The small beauty mark under his left eye and the deep dimples that appeared when he smiled added an oddly sensual allure to him.  

Michael was well aware of this. And he knew how to use it—just enough to enjoy himself without causing trouble. He was a man who knew how to revel in freedom within the boundaries he set for himself.  

“Well… dragging this out will just bore us all, won’t it? Let’s be honest with ourselves.”  

Michael’s casual joke elicited laughter throughout the hall. Winking playfully, he added,  

“So, I’ll skip the speech. I hope you all enjoy yourselves.”  

As soon as Michael finished speaking, the orchestra began to play. Familiar dance music filled the air, and the hall quickly grew lively again. The long night of the banquet had begun.  

“Haa.”  

Only after Michael disappeared into the crowd did Andrea finally exhale the breath she had been holding. Her world, which had momentarily paused, began to spin again.  

In this space, filled with colors more vibrant than a spring garden, Andrea’s eyes were drawn to only one person.  

‘Once again, His Highness looks dazzlingly handsome today….’ 

Thump, thump, thump.  

The sound of her heart pounding echoed in her ears. Her face flushed with heat as Andrea hurriedly tried to cool her cheeks with the back of her hand.  

Just then, Michael’s hearty laughter rang out from afar, causing the heat in her chest to flare up again.  

‘Ah, what am I going to do?’  

The man who had drawn the naive Andrea to this Imperial banquet hall.  

Michael Cherleus Hecet.  

The man the entire Empire adored was also the man she loved.  

Loving Michael was as common as picking up a pebble on the street. Every young woman had a place in her heart reserved for him—to varying degrees.  

Andrea Heathridge was one of the severe cases. She didn’t know how to leave even a small corner of her heart for herself. She lacked the wisdom to keep some space for herself while giving away the rest.  

She had given her whole heart to a man who didn’t even spare her a glance. The owner of that heart didn’t even cast a shadow on the place she had prepared for him.  

But she didn’t mind. It was an unrequited love of the worst kind.