Chapter 5
‘This feel… strange.’
Ever since he saw Charlize’s expression after the kiss, Achilles had felt oddly unsettled. He kept thinking about how soft her lips had been, and the sensation of her warm mouth touching his tongue.
‘I want to see her face again.’
More specifically, he wanted to hold her close, cup her cheeks in his hands, and kiss her deeply. He remembered how soft and sweet her cheeks felt beneath his fingertips, and he absentmindedly flexed his fingers.
What had it felt like, holding her in his arms? Her small frame fit so perfectly against his chest—it stirred something unusual in him. It was strange.
‘Why am I acting like this? Is it because I’m finally close to my goal?’
There was something about Charlize’s mana that left him breathless. And yet, back when he’d used magic to heal her, he hadn’t felt it quite like this.
Of course, even then, he had found her power beautiful and awe-inspiring.
But perhaps it was the way he came into contact with her magic this time—it was more intimate, more direct. And those who possess magic are naturally drawn to others who have it. It wasn’t entirely strange that he would find her so compelling.
Charlize was, after all, a woman with one of the rarest and most unique forms of magical power in the world.
It was only natural that he would feel something for her—emotions he had never experienced with anyone else. She was the only person in the world who had ever truly piqued his interest.
‘Could I… actually fall in love with her?’
He didn’t really understand what love felt like. After losing his entire family at a young age, he’d grown afraid of human weakness. He had shut away any tender emotions.
Or… at least, he thought he had.
A strange fear began to creep in as he turned his gaze toward the palace wing where Charlize stayed.
Achilles Illian still couldn’t shake the feeling.
His chest… it felt like it was trembling from within.
Meanwhile, Valter Bianchi was in the worst mood he’d been in for a long time.
“Did you hear the news? The Princess and the Tower Master, they say…”
“I heard the wedding date has already been set! And the Imperial Family hasn’t even made a public announcement yet…”
“Then what happens to the Bianchi family?”
Whispers and curious glances were all directed at the House of Bianchi.
The Emperor and Empress had always been especially devoted to their only daughter. They had wanted her to marry within the Empire, hoping she would stay and live as part of the Imperial Court.
But that didn’t mean they would accept just any nobleman. Even among high-ranking aristocrats, very few were considered worthy of marrying into the Imperial Family.
To the Emperor, there had been only one real choice: an alliance with the Bianchi Duchy.
As one of the five most powerful among the eight ducal houses, the Bianchis’ were a strong candidate. It had seemed like the perfect match.
The problem was… Valter Bianchi hadn’t shown any real interest. Even when the Duke—his own father—scolded him, Valter remained indifferent. Enraged by his attitude, the Emperor had called off the engagement himself.
After all, offering the hand of the cherished Princess and getting that kind of reaction? The Emperor had every right to be furious.
Many nobles thought that was the end of the Bianchis’ influence at court—that the family had lost favor for good. But surprisingly, it hadn’t played out that way.
Perhaps the Princess had begged her father to reconsider. Because even after the engagement was broken off, Valter continued to visit the palace for a while.
That is, until last year.
On the night of the New Year’s Ball, Valter had been caught in the garden with a count’s daughter, Lady Rebecca. Rumors spread like wildfire. After that, Charlize distanced herself completely.
She never summoned him to the palace again. And Valter, for his part, didn’t request an audience either.
‘What happened, Charlize? How could you do this to me?’
Contrary to what the rumors claimed, nothing had happened between him and Rebecca. She had just gotten something in her eye, and he was trying to help.
Granted, it might’ve looked like a kiss from afar—but trying to explain that would have sounded pathetic, so he didn’t bother.
It wasn’t like he and Charlize were officially dating anyway.
There had only been vague talks of an engagement once, and they had fizzled out because the Emperor hadn’t liked him. Nothing more, nothing less.
Aside from being distant relatives—due to the royal family’s connections to noble houses—they were just childhood friends.
But when Valter heard the rumors that Charlize was marrying the Tower Master, he was shaken. And after that, he was furious.
‘Why am I even angry about this?’
He’d had more than one opportunity in the past to clarify his relationship with her. He had always assumed that Charlize would be the one to confess. After all, she was the one who liked him.
‘I wanted to see her cry…’
Valter Bianchi had disliked Charlize from the very beginning.
Why? Because his father had once hinted that one day, he would be married off to her in a political arrangement.
An arranged marriage.
Even the term felt suffocating.
Sure, for royalty and high-ranking nobles it was seen as normal, even expected—but that didn’t make it any less distasteful to him. Just look at his own family.
His father and mother, who despised each other behind closed doors, always acted like a perfect couple in public. It was a kind of performance he never wanted to imitate.
“She’s royalty, after all.”
He resented the Imperial Family, who clearly had their own arranged marriage, yet still managed to look like one big happy family. It was irritating—and, if he was honest, made him jealous.
He remembered greeting Charlize for the first time and feeling a twisted temptation to tug on her hair just to make her cry.
He was jealous of her.
Everything in the world seemed to belong to her. And yet, she looked up at him with timid eyes, acting like she was beneath him. Even her older brother, Oscar, glaring daggers at him, rubbed him the wrong way.
‘I wanted you to be unhappy.’
It had been obvious to him for a while that Charlize liked him. You can’t fake love, after all. Even his cold, indifferent parents would grow gentle when they were around their lovers. Maybe the only thing he could thank them for was not bringing home any illegitimate children.
‘I’m not going to live like my parents.’
That was why he never intended to marry Charlize. The thought of a political marriage suffocated him. And yet… surprisingly, being around her hadn’t been unpleasant.
She was always considerate—mature beyond her age—and had a strange ability to sense what he needed. She comforted him when he was upset and adjusted to him in every way.
It was easy. And that made him angry.
She was a princess—why was she so eager to please? Why did she understand him so well?
Sometimes, he’d treat her kindly and get along with her. Other times, he’d turn cold and walk away without warning. Crown Prince Oscar noticed this behavior and often scolded him for it, but Charlize would always intervene on his behalf.
‘You were mine, weren’t you?’
Once, he’d even gone out of his way to get close to the daughter of a viscount—just to prove a point. But by the third date, she ended things, saying she didn’t want to get on the Princess’s bad side.
The next few women he got to know said similar things. Eventually, he discovered it hadn’t been the Empress or Charlize pulling strings—it had been his own mother interfering behind the scenes.
But even knowing that, he still blamed Charlize.
‘You go around making it impossible for me to be with anyone else… and now you’re going to marry someone else?’
There wouldn’t be a single noble lady now who saw him as the Princess’s potential fiancé. The ones who used to tread carefully would start changing their tune.
Dozens of invitations were already arriving at the Bianchi estate. But Valter felt none of the excitement. Only a hollow frustration.
The Duke, hearing the rumors spreading through the capital, lowered his voice and scolded his son.
“You idiot! How many times did I tell you? When you have something in your hand, you hold onto it! What were you thinking, letting the Princess slip away like that?! How many times did I have to tell you?!”
The Duke had always acted like he was above it all, smirking whenever the noble, dignified Princess seemed flustered around his son. What son would ever truly listen to a man like that?
Still, his words weren’t entirely wrong.
Valter listened with a cold, unreadable expression, letting the words go in one ear and out the other.
“It’s too late now. Of all people, it had to be the Tower Master. Even if the Princess doesn’t want this, His Majesty won’t miss an opportunity like that.”
Even the Duchess, who tried to calm things down, couldn’t draw the Duke’s sharp gaze away from his son. But Valter had already tuned it out. He turned and walked across the ballroom, leaving the conversation behind. The Duke clicked his tongue in frustration.
The Emperor had already been displeased with Valter’s arrogance for years. And now, it might affect not just the Bianchi family’s future, but all their alliances and business affairs.
Valter was thinking of Charlize again.
She hadn’t sent a single letter since that night. Not even one. And he hadn’t written to her either.
To be fair, he had never been the type to reply often. Only when his parents insisted would he send a short response—two or three lines at most.
“That wicked girl…”
He mumbled the words, knowing full well they didn’t suit her at all. She was always the one to approach first. So why not this time? Why didn’t she reach out?
‘It wasn’t even a real kiss.’
Moonlight had shone down on them… and then the sounds of approaching ladies filled the air. Valter had always been oddly good at sensing when Charlize was near.
He’d whispered to Rebecca, saying he would help check her eye, already aware of how it might look to an outsider.
And Charlize had seen it.
She emerged from behind a tree, just in time to witness the scene.
The moonlight fell on her pale face—and finally, finally—tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Y-Your Highness! It’s a misunderstanding!” Rebecca was the first to cry out, panicking at the sight of the Princess’s tears.
Charlize, frozen in place, turned her back and walked away. She didn’t run. She just… left.
“Go after her! She’s misunderstood!”
Why should I? Valter thought bitterly.
A part of him felt relieved—satisfied even. The Imperial Family had kept him on a tight leash for so long, and now maybe they’d finally leave him alone.
His chest felt uneasy, but he told himself it was just the fear of being reprimanded by the Emperor or Crown Prince.
That was what he told himself.
And this… was the result.
‘You’re so damn selfish, Charlize.’
Valter stormed out of the ballroom, his face twisted in frustration.
