Althea arrived at the palace and was immediately escorted to the luxurious room destined for the future Crown Princess.
A swarm of palace servants, all young women with neat and graceful appearances, instantly gathered around her.
Although they served efficiently, their whispers sounded like sharp buzzing bees.
"Heavens, look at her acne," one servant whispered while cleaning Althea's face.
"How could His Highness choose a woman like this? Is he blind?" another replied, their expressions of disgust not escaping Althea's sight.
Althea remained silent.
She had seen far worse insults at the Baron's residence or in her old world; this false noble pride didn't bother her. She was busy surveying the room's layout, looking for an exit, and analyzing everyone present.
When it was time to put on the gown, the beautiful silk dress, which should have been the standard size for the Crown Princess candidate, felt too tight, nearly bursting around Althea's full hips.
"Oh, forgive me, Lady Althea! The size must be wrong!" The head servant snickered behind Althea's back, then forced an apologetic look. "We will immediately change the size, as quickly as possible!"
Althea merely nodded slightly. Of course, they intentionally chose the wrong size, she thought, understanding the petty tricks of the elite to bring down rivals.
The climax of the humiliation occurred during breakfast. In the luxurious dining room, Althea ate slowly and with small portions.
"Look at how she eats," a servant whispered. "There is no elegance at all."
"She's trying to pretend to eat little. How funny. As if a body that big could lie," another chimed in with a clearly cynical tone.
Althea, who heard them clearly, only looked down. She was indeed practicing her strategic silence. She did not want to draw attention until she had gathered all the information.
However, the calm was suddenly shattered.
The door burst open, and the Crown Prince entered.
He strode into the center of the room. His usually calm expression now turned into a cold, terrifying face of anger. His blue eyes glared sharply at the servants.
"I heard everything," his voice was heavy and low, making the crystal in the chandelier seem to tremble. "You dare insult my fiancée right in front of me?"
The servants immediately went pale.
The Crown Prince walked closer to Althea, then placed his hand on the girl's shoulder with an affectionate gesture. He looked at the servants with a hidden aura of cruelty.
"You are no longer needed in this palace," he snapped. "You will be whipped and then dismissed. This is your punishment for daring to insult my beloved."
Silence descended for a moment, then the room was filled with the hysterical wailing of the servants. They crawled, begging for forgiveness, and asking for a second chance.
"No, Your Highness! Forgive us! We beg you!"
They screamed, prostrating themselves right in front of the Crown Prince.
"It was me they insulted. But why are they apologizing to him?" Althea thought, watching the Crown Prince let them weep, maintaining the facade of a very protective and angry lover for his partner.
At that moment, the memory of the original Althea flashed in her mind.
The exact same thing happened before. The original Althea was deeply touched. She cried because finally someone defended her, someone who valued her, even after being mocked.
And because of her kindness, she was fooled by the deception and forgave the servants who had insulted her.
However, the current Althea remained silent.
She was untouched. She did not blink. She only saw the spectacle as a cold game of manipulation.
She understood, the Crown Prince did not punish the servants out of love or kindness for Althea. He did it to:
Strengthen the illusion: Build his image as a lover who defends Althea, justifying why he chose the "ugly" Althea.
Bind Althea: Make Althea indebted and dependent on him.
Althea felt a deep anger filling her chest. She let the servants lose their jobs.
Because for Althea, this Crown Prince was far more dangerous than ten insulting servants. This cruel act, masked by false romance, only convinced her further:
She must escape, and quickly.
***
After the servants left and only the Crown Prince and Althea remained, the atmosphere in the room fell silent. Candlelight flickered softly, yet the air between them was chillingly sharp.
The soft, loving smile was gone from the Crown Prince's face.
His blue gaze was now cold, as sharp as a blade, penetrating Althea's plump body sitting before him.
Althea held her breath while her hands, hidden, gripped her gown until it wrinkled. But her face was calm, her pink eyes staring steadily at the figure across from her.
"You must have a lot on your mind," he said low, heavy, and full of cunning. "So, what do you want to say, Lady?"
Althea swallowed, her throat dry.
"Why did you name me Crown Princess in front of everyone? When you already have a lover. And I know it."
A subtle smile etched itself on the ruler's lips, frightening, yet ironically beautiful. "Because you are suitable for the position."
Althea shook her head slowly, her breath heavy. "That duty is too heavy for me, Your Highness. I refuse."
The Crown Prince's face moved slightly closer, allowing Althea to sense the faint masculine scent from his body—warm, fresh, yet suffocating. His smile thinned, dangerous.
"Too bad, Lady. There are only two choices for you: die that night… or become my fiancée."
Althea's heart sank, but she forced her face to remain calm.
"In that case… why not get engaged to Lady Lysandra Perenelle von Kaelen, Your Highness?" she asked carefully.
The blue eyes blinked once, then narrowed. His jaw hardened, his tone remaining calm but every word felt piercing.
"Never say that again with your ugly mouth."
Althea clenched both hands in her lap, her fingers trembling, yet the look in her eyes remained cold. "If you only want a fake fiancée, why choose me? There are many other Ladies who are prettier, slimmer, have a good name, even wealthy families. I… have no advantage at all."
The Crown Prince leaned forward, his voice low but full of pressure.
"Firstly, you already know my secret, my beloved. Secondly, Lysandra agrees to this, because she will never be jealous of a woman like you. Thirdly, you once shamelessly deceived me."
"I did not deceive you, besides being the Baron's illegitimate child. I also worked as a servant, Your Highness."
"Hah, you speak well. Whatever the reason, I don't care. So, what do you choose?" His blue eyes drew closer, sharper and more terrifying. "Death?"
Althea's chest tightened. Her lower jaw tensed as she stared at the man. "Then what's the benefit for me in being your fake Crown Princess?"
For the first time, the Crown Prince paused. He looked at Althea as if he had just realized something, then his lips curved.
A small laugh escaped him, then turned into a loud laugh full of mockery.
"Hahaha… this is interesting. I heard you were very stupid."
"I am indeed stupid, Your Highness," Althea said.
Stupid at reading his intentions, she continued mentally.
"How about we make a deal?" the Crown Prince's voice was low, almost a hiss. "I will give you more than enough money for the rest of your life. Aren't you poor? This is an attractive offer, isn't it?"
Althea was silent. Inside, she cursed: Attractive my butt… if you get moody, I could die that very moment, what good is the money.
She lifted her chin slightly, trying to sound calm. "And guarantee my life. Whatever happens… let me live."
Again, his loud laugh echoed in the room. Not a joyful laugh, but the laugh of a terrifying tyrant. "How long will we do this?" he asked casually.
"One year," the Crown Prince answered, smiling.
Althea was startled. One year… exactly the same as the death I faced.
"Fine," she finally said.
"Oh yes," the Crown Prince leaned back, his gaze piercing like a dagger. "I actually don't care about you. But this is quite bothersome. Never fall in love with me."
Althea held her breath, her lips pulling into a slight curve. "Good. And I hope you feel the same way."
That laugh again. Lower, more threatening. Inwardly Althea screamed: Laugh, murderer. If you saw my real face, you would swallow your spit.
As he moved to formalize their agreement, Althea raised a hand, her movement slow but deliberate. "Wait. I require time to consider the terms."
His blue eyes locked onto hers, and a slow, predatory smile spread across his face. "You are far more intriguing than I was led to believe, Lady Althea," he said, and the words sounded less like a compliment and more like a threat.