Chapter 3
My first publication was in the spring of my fifteenth year—three years ago now.
Even then, I still hadn’t completely let go of that faint “maybe…” hope, the one that had been keeping me steadily thrust into high society for nearly two years.
I went to every kind of party and banquet without discrimination, yet I never even caught a glimpse of the male leads’ hair, let alone their faces. And oh, how consistently dull every single one of those gatherings was… My days were losing their spark, one by one.
What revived me from that sorry state—fifteen years old and already looking like I’d sat the college entrance exam three times—were the maids at a certain baron’s estate.
“Would it be Hanson × Rodevan, or Rodevan × Hanson?”
“Oh? Obviously Hanson × Rodevan.”
“Look at her—who decides order by height these days?”
“Then what?”
“Personality, that’s what matters! No matter how many times I’ve observed them, the better pairing is Rodevan × Hanson.”
Oh ho.
That was a conversation that woke me from my wilted state in an instant.
Their hushed whispers made me feel as though I’d been instantly transported, not into some fairy tale’s “Beauty to the Beast,” but into the heart of modern-day Korea.
It brought back the warm, nostalgic feeling of chatting and laughing with like-minded friends.
Pushing Latte aside, Kim Hyejeong jumped out and shouted:
Let’s write a BL novel!
The very moment I returned home, I sat myself down at my desk and began to write. The pen and paper that had seemed doomed to gather dust for a hundred—no, a thousand—years were finally fulfilling their purpose.
Yellow was the paper, black the ink. The curly, almost illegible characters I wrote—astonishingly enough—flowed faster than Hangul ever had for me. I, who couldn’t speed-read to save my life, was suddenly writing at shorthand speed.
Possessed, or so it felt, I churned out my first short story in no time at all.
Sir Edwin the Wandering Knight Is No Longer Free.
Even now, I think it was a pretty satisfying title. It was published as my debut short story and made its way, without much fuss, onto the shelves of a major bookstore—and I had my status as a noble daughter to thank for that smooth process.
That frenzied labor of love quickly spread by word of mouth, and before long, it topped the sales charts in the “Bimore” genre—what BL is called here.
The publisher in charge of my work was over the moon, and I, at the tender age of fifteen, achieved the great triumph of raking in money hand over fist.
Even now, that piece sometimes gets traded at a premium.
“What are you reading, my lady?”
“…Huh? Oh, just a letter.”
Lost in nostalgia, I hadn’t even noticed Ushla coming in. I deftly rolled up the paper and tucked it away in a corner of my desk.
My father—the Viscount Ecktri—was generally a loving parent, but not so open-minded as to simply overlook his daughter publishing BL novels.
It was scandalous enough that I was writing about love between men, but on top of that, my work was far from platonic… Well, considering my actual mental age, it was hardly surprising.
In any case, the fact that I was making heaps of money through my writing was a secret I kept thoroughly from my parents—especially Father. In that regard, Ushla was someone I had to be very careful around.
She was excellent in every way except one: her mouth was far too loose. At the Ecktri estate, she was already infamous for her inability to keep things to herself.
“Are you going to the tea party today?”
“Oh, right… I almost forgot.”
“There’s still plenty of time, so you can take your time getting ready. I’ll do your hair first.”
“Alright, please do.”
As always, Ushla’s touch when arranging my hair was so gentle it inspired admiration every time. The results her magical hands produced were just as flawless.
When it came to hair, she was unmatched in the entire capital.
It was a shame her only flaw was that mouth of hers.
“All done! How is it?”
“As always, I love it.”
“Hehe.”
My golden hair, neatly braided to one side by Ushla, looked as though it had never known unruliness.
The thing I disliked most about this world was the absence of magic perms. This wretched curly hair of mine!
Truly, Ushla was the savior of my social life.
“What dress should I wear?”
“You’d look lovely in anything, my lady.”
“Really? Thanks for the compliment.”
Ushla often praised my looks whenever there was a lull—it was a kind of flattery, but I think she genuinely liked me. Given that I offered her some quiet protection within the household, it made sense.
After giving my face a once-over in the mirror, I picked out a dress with Ushla’s help.
Dress, makeup, accessories—the time I spent getting ready for my outing left me looking, even to myself, fairly presentable. Not quite a legendary beauty, but enough to make someone turn their head in passing. Of course, that was mostly the work of hair and makeup.
Back when I was Kim Hye-jung, it took bridal-level makeup just to be called pretty, so this was a hundred times better in comparison.
“I’ll be off.”
“Take care, dear.”
After bidding my mother farewell, I left the estate.
The Olive Count’s manor, my destination, was fairly close, so I insisted I didn’t need an escort. But Mother insisted on giving me a guard anyway—a very formidable one at that.
I still didn’t see the point of having an escort when the place was so close I didn’t even need a carriage.
Glancing to my side, I saw Sir Hans striding along, muscles on proud display.
He was one of the most skilled knights in the Ecktri household, and his biceps flexed impressively with each movement.
If only it weren’t for the baldness…
I often offered a silent condolence for the patchy bald spot that undermined his romantic prospects. He was a good man otherwise.
Before I knew it, we’d arrived. The Olive Count’s second daughter’s tea party was starting soon, and I was right on time.
The other young ladies seemed to have brought quite a number of attendants, so Sir Hans was naturally shown to a separate area.
“It’s been a while, Lady Ecktri.”
“It has indeed, Lady Olive. Have you been well?”
“I’ve been perfectly fine. And you, my lady?”
“I’ve been well enough.”
We exchanged the kind of pleasantries that could be skipped without loss and took our seats.
The young lady beside me—Kano, the eldest daughter of Baron Ameri—slid a slice of tiramisu toward me and gestured for me to eat. She was the one I was closest to here.
I thanked her with a glance, took a spoonful, and tasted it.
“I think we all know why we’ve gathered here today,” Lady Olive began.
As always, the Olive Count’s tiramisu was excellent. I savored the sweet, slightly rich flavor in my mouth as I listened to her words.
It seemed she was skipping the usual preamble about the tea’s name, its origin, and aroma. I welcomed the lack of tedium.
“Of course. It’s because of Her Highness Princess Roselia’s birthday banquet in two weeks, isn’t it?”
Lady Canola—only daughter of the Canola Count, second in influence here after Lady Olive—quickly chimed in.
Olive, Canola… When I first heard their family names, I couldn’t help but suspect the author of Beauty to the Beast had rummaged through their kitchen for inspiration.
Same with Kano Ameri and Latte—myself included. Our naming styles almost explained why Kano and I got along.
“Yes. This year’s imperial banquet is particularly important because…”
Lady Olive trailed off expectantly.
The young lady to her left, Lady Biscuit, finished the sentence:
“Because His Highness Crown Prince Rondmio will be attending.”
Rondmio—male lead number one. It had been a while since I’d heard his name.
Hearing it now, I realized how lazy it sounded. Did they just stretch out “Romeo”?
“I’ve heard so too… but I wonder if it’s really true…”
One lady expressed her doubts, and a few others nodded in agreement.
Given the Crown Prince’s staunch “mystique” policy and his near-perfect record of staying out of public view, skepticism was only natural.
I myself had chased countless parties in the past without ever glimpsing a single strand of his hair. I doubted I was alone in that.
Still, what came next nearly made me mash my tiramisu with my spoon.
“This time it must be true. This year, Her Highness Princess Roselia turns seventeen—meaning the banquet is also her coming-of-age celebration.”
Good grief… I covered my mouth. How could I have forgotten that? Clearly, I’d been too absorbed in writing lately.
Princess Roselia’s seventeenth birthday party was where the heroine, Evelyne, would make her first appearance—and where she would meet male lead number one for the first time in dramatic fashion.
“Oh my, in that case…”
“It does seem possible.”
Even without knowing about the heroine’s debut, the occasion was the perfect backdrop for the Crown Prince’s appearance, and the mood in the room brightened at once.
After all, it would be outrageous for a brother to skip his sister’s once-in-a-lifetime coming-of-age celebration.
Moreover, londmio and his sister had a fairly close relationship. If not for his obsession with mystique, he might have attended every birthday party without fail.
“At last, we’ll see His Highness.”
“I’m looking forward to it. Rumor says he’s the most handsome man alive.”
“They say once you’ve set eyes on him, you shouldn’t look at other men for a while—because they’ll start to look less like men and more like… sea creatures.”
“Lady Olive, you’ve met him, haven’t you? How was he?”
The mood grew lively. All the ladies were openly excited, sharing their eager thoughts. Even Kano, usually the most reserved here, listened with shining eyes.
Lady Olive, pleased by the attention, began describing her encounter in detail.
“His looks are truly beyond imagination… blah blah…”
Hearing her glowing praise reminded me of the novel’s description of the Crown Prince.
What was it again? Sunlight-splintering platinum hair, deep ocean-blue eyes?
In short, londmio was a golden-haired, blue-eyed man—and extremely handsome at that.
In the novel, male lead number one was the textbook image of a storybook prince.
