The wedding day was approaching quickly.

By the morning of the ceremony, crowds had gathered in the heart of Carlton — the capital of Phozmeri — and spilled out into the surrounding streets.

“Phozmeri’s hero Oswald Lawrence becomes part of the Howard family.”
“The faceless princess Allen Howard steps into the world at last—at her hero’s side.”

The wedding of Oswald and Allen Howard sent shockwaves through the entire nation.

The marriage of Phozmeri’s princess held great symbolic significance.

It was the first joyous event since the war ended.

After being almost defeated by the much smaller nation of Astasha, the people’s pride had taken a severe hit.

A dazzling, extravagant royal wedding would restore their sense of glory and demonstrate to the world that Phozmeri was still a powerful nation.

But to Daphne, it meant nothing. To her, it was just another exhausting chapter in her life.

They bound her into a tight corset, draped her in an enormous wedding gown, and covered her from head to toe in opulent jewelry.

The room was filled with soft, pale flowers as though an entire garden had been transplanted indoors.

A gentle minuet floated quietly through the air.

The sweet fragrance pressed down on her like a weight that was too heavy and too thick.

Sitting motionless at the heart of it all, Daphne felt like a doll arranged inside a magnificent coffin.

When she closed her eyes, the overwhelming scent of flowers beat against her temples, clouding her muddled thoughts further.

“Your Highness!”

A voice called to her, prompting Daphne to open her eyes again and turn towards the sound. More guests had entered the room.

She would have to get used to all this.

Even the title ‘Princess’, supposedly Allen’s nickname.

But what about the pitying glances and admiring looks? Who exactly was Allen to these people?

Was she just a tragic ‘princess’, nothing more?

“The ceremony will begin shortly.”

A bridesmaid reached out her hand. Daphne placed her gloved hand gently into hers.

“His Majesty the groom is waiting downstairs.”

The bridesmaid’s expression was warm and kind. Daphne responded with a carefully rehearsed smile.

The doors swung open.

Light flooded in, overwhelming her like the glare of a stage spotlight, so bright that it swallowed everything else.

It was blinding.

She felt as though she might truly lose her sight.

But she knew that, beyond that curtain of brilliance, countless eyes were fixed on her: watching, judging, admiring.

So Daphne forced a smile to stay on her lips.

The staircase wound gracefully downwards towards the great hall below.

Everyone gathered there was looking up at the bride.

The bridesmaid guided her to the top step, then gently released her hand, having completed her task.

Gathering the heavy folds of her dress in one hand, Daphne stood on the top step and looked down.

Today was the day that Allen Howard, whose face had been hidden from the world for years, would finally be unveiled.

“She’s beautiful!”
“It’s the Princess Allen we’ve only heard rumors about!”

Roars of admiration erupted throughout the hall.

Her stomach churned.

“You look absolutely stunning.”
“The groom will fall in love all over again when he sees you.”
“Congratulations, my lady.”

The attendants gathered near the stairs, swept up in the excitement, and offered their blessings cheerfully.

Daphne stared down towards the lower hall and forced a stiff smile in return.

It must have been a joyless expression.

To them, she probably looked like nothing more than a nervous bride.

‘The groom.’

What was Oswald thinking as he waited below?

Daphne began to move.

As she approached the staircase, the music changed to an elegant new melody.

The hall, filled with guests and flowers, spread out before her in all its glory.

Every gaze, filled with awe and admiration, fell solely on her.

Stepping in time with her cue, Daphne descended the winding stairs.

She kept her smile carefully in place, never letting it slip.

Even she could tell how painfully artificial it was.

But could anything be more absurd than this entire spectacle?

‘You’re all being fooled.’

‘I am not this country’s princess.’

‘I belong to the Astashans, whom you consider to be inferior.’

‘I don’t love Phozmeri at all. In fact, I hate this place, don’t I? And yet here I am, deceiving myself.’

“……”

At the foot of the stairs, he was waiting.
He, too, was dressed in formal attire.

‘Oswald Lawrence.’

Daphne whispered his name quietly in her mind.

‘What are you thinking?’
‘Are you not ashamed, standing here before your country like this?’
‘Was it truly you who left that gun for me?’

As the bride descended the stairs in her pure white gown, she appeared almost ethereal.

The intricate beadwork caught the light like scattered gemstones, shimmering with each step she took.

The audience held its breath as the Princess of Phozmeri revealed her face for the first time as an adult. She had survived tragedy after tragedy.

The air was filled with the heavy fragrance of roses, hydrangeas, peonies and hyacinths.

Despite the sheer number of people crowded into the hall, a strange, suffocating silence fell over them as if the room had been stripped of air.

Everyone watched her. No one breathed.

The elegant quartet rose towards its grandest cl*max.

As Daphne reached the final step, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over her.

Her foot slipped.

Her body lurched.

In that instant, she lost her balance and fell.

There were only a few steps left beneath her, but they felt as high and unforgiving as a tower.

Gasps rippled through the hall.

The music stopped abruptly.

Oswald caught her with effortless precision as she fell into his arms.

A wave of applause and soft laughter swept through the hall at the charming sight of the shy bride, who was overwhelmed by nerves on her wedding day.

Since she hadn’t actually fainted, Daphne opened her eyes slightly and looked up at the man holding her.

His expression was utterly blank — cold and unreadable, untouched by the chaos around them.

It was as though catching her wasn’t an act of concern, but simply another move in a well-rehearsed performance.

With steady, practiced movements, he lifted her upright.

The music swelled once more, a sweet, gentle melody drifting like a warm spring wind scented with new blossom.

The wedding march had begun.

“…Thus, we proclaim these two joined as husband and wife, to share life’s joys and sorrows together. Seal your sacred vow with a kiss.”

Daphne looked at Oswald.

Without his uniform, he looked strangely different. The man whose face had always been hardened with hostility now gazed down at her with a loving smile.

A perfect performance.

But when she saw that expression—

“……”

Her heart plunged sharply in her chest. A strange, intense sensation hit her hard, feeling both entirely new and eerily familiar.

Her expression froze.

As planned, Oswald placed his hand around her waist.

His face drew closer.

Their lips met.

She closed her eyes as the soft warmth of his lips brushed hers. Fireworks of cheers and applause exploded around them.

When he pulled away, Oswald bent down and whispered something in her ear.

“Allen.”

“……”

“Smile.”

“……”

Daphne forced a smile that was awkward and stiff.

Now came the bridal march down the aisle.

Oswald raised his arm and she lifted hers to link with it.

One step.

Two steps.

Thunderous cheers filled the hall.

‘Maybe I’m the one who’s lost her mind.’

Daphne thought quietly to herself.

But if not, why had she had such an absurd thought — that his smile might have been genuine?

The sensation of her heart dropping still lingered.

The arched doorway ahead of her, which should have looked like a grand entrance, now looked more like a gateway to hell.

＊ ＊ ＊

By the time they reached the Lawrence estate, it was well after sunset.

Although it was close to the capital, it was not close enough — and yet this was to be her new home.

The echoes of the celebrations still rang faintly and distantly in her ears.

The maids removed the corset squeezing her waist and undid the ornaments she could never take off by herself. After changing into a thin, delicate negligee, Daphne kept her eyes fixed straight ahead.

Just a few steps away stood the door to Allen Howard’s chamber.

According to Phozmeri tradition, the groom was supposed to wait inside the bride’s room on their wedding night.

As Daphne let the maids finish dressing her, she thought:

The people loved Allen.

She was the tragic princess who had lost her mother and two older brothers in a terrible accident, yet had grown up strong.

They called her a symbol of peace, even though she herself had done nothing.

Receiving that love made her feel strangely hollow.

The citizens looked to Allen’s happiness for their own consolation.

In their eyes, Oswald would make a warm, devoted husband.

They probably imagined that the two of them would share a night of love behind this door.

“…Ha.”

The laugh escaped her before she could stop it. The maid helping her with her adornments paused, concern flickering on her face.

“Are you feeling unwell, Your Highness?”

Daphne smoothed her expression in an instant, smiling softly as she shook her head.

“I’m fine.”

“Once again, congratulations on your marriage!”

The maid whispered brightly, her voice full of innocent excitement.

It meant everything was ready.

Daphne stepped toward the door and drew in a quiet breath, one no one else could hear.

‘Princess.’

‘Wedding night.’

‘…What a farce.’

Part of her wanted to scoff aloud.

Instead, she smiled sweetly like a display doll and waited patiently for the door to open.

At last, the door eased open, revealing the pitch-black room beyond.

She stepped inside slowly and carefully.