Chapter 13
“Oh my, aren’t you the infamous young lady from Checoran? I’ve finally had the honor of seeing you in person.”
Princess Phileone turned her head, holding it high. Yet, Haon could clearly see her brows narrowing ever so slightly.
The speaker was a noble lady dressed in a silk gown adorned with gaudy jewels. Her hair was pinned up high with all sorts of decorations, and the train of her dress dragged dramatically across the floor—everything about her screamed vanity and ostentation.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Trillinia of the Count of Siss. Delighted.”
As expected, she was a noble lady. Trillinia placed one hand over her chest while using the other to slightly lift her gown in a curtsy.
But Anten bit her lip in fury at the greeting. Trillinia’s tone was far too casual. More importantly, she had made a grave mistake.
‘Why are you showing up here?!’
Haon inwardly screamed in frustration.
She appreciated that someone had intercepted the princess from straying too far from the main story, but why did it have to be this wretched Trillinia? In the web novel, Trillinia was one of the most irritating villains.
Princess Phileone showed no reaction. Slightly taller than Trillinia, she simply gazed down at her with half-lowered eyes in utter boredom.
Despite having approached first, greeted her, and spoken quite a bit, the princess gave her nothing—not even a flicker of expression. But Trillinia babbled on brightly, oblivious.
“Just as they say, your hair is ablaze—so red and vivid! How fascinating. Isn’t it hard to match with dresses? It’s so bright.”
She flapped her fan as she chattered, her mouth and tongue seemingly incapable of stopping. Perhaps because her eyes curved in a smile, she failed to notice how cold and stiff the princess’s face was.
“How rude.”
At last, a brief response fell from Princess Phileone’s lips.
“…Pardon?”
Trillinia froze, her smile still plastered on. The fluttering fan stopped midair.
“What did you say…?”
“I said, you are rude.”
Phileone sighed lightly.
“Is that how you address royalty in your country as well?”
“I—what do you mean?”
Trillinia’s face turned red. Her fan fluttered with increasing aggression.
“Aren’t you the one being rude? How can you say such a thing?”
“It is rude. This lady is not a mere young noble. She’s a princess.”
A languid yet weighty voice came from behind.
Startled, Trillinia turned her head upward. Her eyes sparkled with awe.
“Your Highness!”
Phileone slowly turned as well.
It was Prince Di.
Before anyone noticed, he had approached and now stood behind her. His golden hair, glinting in the sun, was neatly tied up, and his mysterious violet eyes were cold and unreadable. His lips held no trace of a smile. His gaze drifted toward Trillinia, detached.
“You dare fail to show proper respect to a princess and speak with such vile tone.”
He chastised her speech.
“You’re disgracing the empire’s dignity.”
Trillinia’s face burned even redder—but not from joy this time. Still, she wasn’t ready to back down.
“Your Highness, that’s too harsh. Why would you defend some tribute princess from Checoran and shame a count’s daughter like me?”
Her hostility toward Phileone was laid bare.
Haon paled and glanced at the princess.
‘You disrespectful brat! How dare you call our princess a tribute?’
Phileone stood perfectly straight, her expression unreadable. But Haon understood well what humiliation she must be swallowing.
A hollow empire, sent alone to a distant land, met with strange stares and whispered gossip…
“Still, brother, you were a bit harsh.”
A gentle voice joined the fray.
Haon turned to look.
A man with pale ash-blond hair and eyes as clear and blue as a cool lake approached with a warm smile.
Haon instantly recognized him. That hair, those eyes, the subtly kind face—he exuded protective charm.
It was Prince Al, the third prince.
“Prince Al!”
Trillinia lit up like a child meeting a savior. She clearly expected him to take her side.
But instead, Prince Al came to stand beside Prince Di and looked straight at her.
“You should only use difficult words with those who can understand them. With someone of low intellect, you must use simpler ones. Like: ‘Your speech is crude. Shut up.’”
Trillinia’s face twisted in horror.
“Pfft…”
Haon couldn’t hold back a snicker.
Trillinia’s sharp eyes flew to her.
“How dare a mere maid butt in?!”
She raised her fan high, about to strike.
Smack. Phileone raised her hand and firmly grabbed Trillinia’s wrist.
“You are rude.”
She murmured.
“Not only rude, but also foolish.”
Her low voice carried elegance and overwhelming authority—something no ordinary noble lady could hope to emit.
Trillinia flinched, trying to pull away, but Phileone’s grip was unyielding. She met Trillinia’s eyes directly.
“The only one who may discipline my maid is me. Laying hands on her is tantamount to defying me. Do you wish to oppose the Empire of Checoran?”
“Ugh…”
Trillinia bit her lips, unable to speak.
Then Prince Al chimed in again.
“Besides, since Princess Phileone is to become a royal consort, that would also be an affront to our imperial family.”
“I-I…”
Finally, Trillinia’s face drained of color. The pressure from her own court clearly frightened her more than that of a foreign nation. Phileone let out a short sigh.
She released her grip, and Trillinia quickly withdrew her hand, clasping both arms behind her back.
“I-I was rude, Your Highness.”
Her about-face was swift. She even bowed her head and apologized.
Phileone showed no visible reaction. Terrified of provoking her further, Trillinia bowed again and fled.
Phileone turned with another quiet sigh. Standing behind her were Di with his cold expression and Al with his fresh smile.
“Thank you for the…intervention.”
…Excuse me?
‘Um, Princess? I think you chose the wrong word?’
Haon fidgeted in distress, glancing between Phileone, Di, Phileone again, then Al.
“Of course, Your Highness would’ve handled it yourself, but as hosts, we couldn’t stand by and let a guest be mistreated. If my interference was inappropriate, please forgive me.”
Prince Al spoke smoothly.
He defended the princess while preserving everyone’s dignity—a masterful display of diplomacy.
But his efforts were dashed by Di, who glanced at Phileone and coldly muttered,
“Arrogant without a hint of charm.”
Apparently, he wasn’t pleased with her reaction.
“Brother.”
Al called after him, but Di ignored him and vanished into the crowd. Or tried to—his radiant golden hair and tall stature made him stand out no matter where he went.
Phileone stared after him for a moment, then turned away.
Haon watched it all with growing anxiety.
‘The male lead has left. Ah… our beautiful male lead is gone…’
She clasped her hands over her heart and bit her lip. She had hoped to witness the grand first encounter between heroine and hero, but it ended in shambles.
When Di had stepped in during Trillinia’s outburst, Haon had felt like banging drums in celebration—this was it, the classic romance beginning! But now it had ended in dismay.
Moreover…
‘They definitely left an impression on each other… but it doesn’t look like a good one.’
Should she laugh or cry?
“Haha, I suppose my brother just gets shy.”
Prince Al tried valiantly to cover for Di. Clearly, Di hadn’t been shy at all, but Al’s effort was so earnest, Haon decided to play along.
“I’m sorry for the late introduction. I am Al Sanfelcrino Kar Heosenia, the third prince of the Heosen Empire. Please feel free to call me Al.”
“I am Phileone b’Afret Checoran of the Checoran Empire. You may call me Phileone.”
A textbook exchange of names.
Prince Al even kindly introduced the brother who had already left.
“That was my older brother, Prince Di Nafersene Kar Heosenia.”
“I’m aware.”
“Oh? You’ve met him before?”
“No, but I heard the introductions during the welcoming ball when I arrived in Heosen. I also heard your name then, Prince Al.”
Phileone’s tone remained calm and composed, in contrast to Al’s expressive reactions.
Al nodded dramatically and clapped once.
“Ah, that occasion. Of course! I remembered you from then too, but I was worried the long list of royal introductions might’ve made it hard to recall.”
He was a gentleman of impeccable manners.
“I see.”
In contrast, Phileone said only what was necessary—no decorative language.
Their interaction was so awkwardly mismatched, even the attending maids and stewards were holding their breath.
Would Prince Al get tired? Would Princess Phileone grow annoyed?
Just then, a lively voice broke the tension.
“Brother! Have you already chosen a partner?”
