Chapter 15

The process of granting Achilles a noble title was already underway.
A man with no title couldn’t marry a princess, after all. Before the wedding, he would officially be made a marquis.

Initially, the Emperor had planned to grant him the title of baron. Then, after Achilles took care of the demon problem in the west—once a thorn in the Empire’s side—he was offered the rank of count.

Finally, after that last major contribution, the Emperor offered him the title of marquis, along with a suggestion to officially join the nobility.

Achilles had rejected all three titles.

But the Emperor, not one to give up so easily, kept the titles “on hold”—reserved and unused, waiting for the right moment. He even pressured the council to find a way to formally bind the Tower Master to the Empire, leaving no room for debate.

“Even back then, someone suggested marrying him into the family—but Oscar got angry and shut it down.”

There had been concerns that if pressured too much, Achilles might completely cut ties with the palace. So the Emperor hadn’t brought it up again.

Yet now, years later, Achilles had spoken the words himself.

“They were too young back then, so making them bonded partners was enough. But now… they’re both of age.”

The Emperor stroked his chin with a satisfied smile.

Oscar, still showing clear discomfort at the idea of his sister marrying Achilles, had grumbled, “What if the Tower Master just takes her and never sets foot in the Empire again?”
But the Emperor wasn’t worried.

Word was that Achilles was completely enamored with the princess. In fact, he’d gone to see her again today. And it seemed the princess herself hadn’t found him so bad either—they were getting along better than expected.

Honestly, that part had caught the Emperor off guard. He hadn’t expected the famously cold and aloof Tower Master to warm up to Charlize at all.

“Sure, she’s pretty… but still.”

He might not have been fully self-aware, but he at least knew the kind of person his daughter was. Charlize was clever, but not particularly skilled in romance.

She wasn’t impulsive, so she rarely made big mistakes—but she also didn’t calculate in love, which meant she was the one who often got hurt.
Bianchi’s son, on the other hand, was a sharp one.

The Emperor still remembered being surprised at how emotionless that boy had been, even as a child—always careful not to lose face or reveal any vulnerability. He’d secretly hoped for another alternative.

“…So, this is how it turned out.”

He felt a bit of regret. Valter had always been capable. He’d watched the boy grow up. But after putting Charlize through all that emotional strain, maybe this outcome was for the best.

“At least now I won’t have to see that damn Bianchi duke looking so smug around me anymore.”

The Emperor chuckled out loud as he recalled the duke’s ashen face the day, he heard whispers of an engagement between the Tower Master and the princess.

‘Why is he here already?’

‘Did he come to escort the princess?’

‘The ball doesn’t start for hours…’

The ball wasn’t scheduled to begin until early evening, and it was still afternoon.
Charlize had woken up late, bathed, and spent the morning getting ready. When she heard that Achilles had arrived, she thought to herself, So he really came, just like I expected.

“Well… I did say those things yesterday.”

At least he’d waited until later in the day, giving her time to finish her skincare, hair, and makeup.

The message that Achilles was waiting for her had arrived just as she was putting on her undergarments. Flustered, she urged her maids to hurry. The ball was still more than two hours away, but she didn’t want to keep him waiting.

“Technically, royals are expected to arrive later…”

But Achilles wasn’t technically royal—yet. Still, even without a formal engagement ceremony, he was already being treated as her fiancé.

Which meant tonight, when the Emperor entered the ballroom, Achilles would enter beside him. That’s when their engagement would be officially announced.

Charlize’s maids were swift and skilled. Standing in front of a three-way mirror, she checked her reflection and offered them genuine praise.

As she left her room and made her way down the corridor, her heart started to pound. Just knowing that he was waiting for her made her breath catch.

He wasn’t waiting in a guest room, but in the hall. There he sat—expressionless—on a long bench.

But the moment he saw her, he jumped to his feet.

“Ah…”

All the hours of careful preparation, every detail she had put into her appearance—it all felt worth it the moment she saw the look in his eyes.

Achilles, who rarely showed emotion, was looking at her like he had forgotten how to breathe.

Her blue eyes sparkled as they met his. And when a soft, shy smile bloomed across her lips, he was already moving toward her.

He’d been standing at the base of the grand staircase, but in a blink, he was there—reaching up the stairs, gently taking her hand.

“Oh my… they look more like lovers than a political couple.”

One of the maids lowered her head, hiding a smile as she caught the way the two looked at each other.

They really do look like lovers…

Achilles, ever composed, used the etiquette he’d learned from his instructor to escort Charlize with practiced grace.

Since there was still quite a bit of time before the ball began, she decided to show him around her palace wing.

It wasn’t just the dress and makeup that made her feel different today.
There was something new in the way she looked at him. Achilles could see it in her eyes.

They’re sparkling…

Like they held starlight. Lost in thought, he absently ran his fingers across the hand she’d placed on his arm, forgetting all the formalities his etiquette teacher had drilled into him.

“You shouldn’t touch my face.”

Charlize, noticing his gaze lingering on her cheek and lips, spoke softly. Achilles looked at her, puzzled.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m wearing makeup. You’ll get powder on your fingers. And… you should also be careful about hugging me out of nowhere. You’ll get makeup on your clothes too.”

Maybe it was her imagination, but it looked like his expression drooped ever so slightly. Charlize smiled and looked up at him.

“Don’t you have anything to say to me?”

“I like you.”

The serious look in his eyes and the sincerity in his voice made the maids covering their mouths let out little gasps of “Oh my…” behind her. Charlize’s cheeks flushed.

“Not that kind of thing…”

Achilles tilted his head slightly, eyes fixed on her. She quickly looked away, fidgeting nervously. It was obvious she had gone to great lengths to prepare today.

“I wish I could be the only one to see you like this, Princess. I want to take you to the Mage Tower right now.”

“Th-That’s not what I meant either!”

She shook her head, flustered. His response wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t what she’d been expecting. Achilles, meanwhile, looked at her with eyes so warm and full of affection it made her feel like she’d melt on the spot.

He still wore the same neutral expression, but the way he looked at her was enough to make even the nearby maids blush and hold their breath.

“I won’t say anything else until you kiss me.”

“I… I can’t. I’m wearing makeup. It’ll smudge…”

“That’s fine. Let it get on me—on my lips, my clothes. If it’s your mark, I’ll be happy to carry it.”

That’s ridiculous. People would whisper, and gossip would spread…
Charlize sneaked a glance at his face. He wore his usual stoic expression, but his eyes were unmistakably different.

She gently took his hand and pulled him closer. His eyes lit up with anticipation—but Charlize simply raised his hand to her lips and kissed his fingertips.

His face clearly said: That’s not what I meant.

“I never said it had to be on the lips.”

“But I want it to be.”

Her face flushed again as she turned her head. With an almost teasing look, she added:

“It’ll mess up my lipstick. So no.”

“That wasn’t a kiss. Not a real one.”

Charlize turned back to look at him.

“It counts.”

“It doesn’t.”

Achilles’ gaze sparkled with mischief—something rare for him.

“You should know better than anyone. A kiss is when our lips meet—your lips and mine—”

“Aaaaaah!!”

Panicking, Charlize let out a sharp cry, cutting him off. But it was too late—the words had already been spoken.

She whipped around to look at the maids and servants behind her, only to find them all pretending to look away, their faces stiff with forced innocence, barely hiding their amusement.

“All of you—leave!”

At her command, the palace staff quickly scattered. Soon, only Charlize and Achilles remained in the hallway.

She glared at him, cheeks burning.

“How could you say something like that with people around?”

“They probably already know.”
Achilles replied without hesitation. “After all, every time you came back from being alone with me, your lips were always a little… swollen.”

Charlize’s face went crimson. Instinctively, she raised her sleeve to cover her lips, but Achilles gently caught her wrist.

“Your makeup will smudge if you do that, Princess.”

His hand slid down slowly and wrapped around hers. His hands were larger, warmer—and held hers gently, yet firmly.

“Your lips are beautiful. Not just because of the color you’re wearing…”

He lifted her hand toward his face the same way she had done moments ago. Holding her gaze, he added softly:

“But because I’d like to believe they’re red… from my kisses.”