ATRF C1

Chapter 1

In the lavishly extravagant ballroom, every woman without exception cinched her waist tightly with a corset and wore dazzling, glittering gowns.

Yet among them, there was one exception.

A woman dressed in a chemise-style gown without a corset.

“Lady Dalia El Noirouz, daughter of the Count.”

Soon, someone approached her slowly, observing her with evident curiosity.

At the sound of her name, the woman’s pink eyes trembled faintly. Dalia gave a slight bend of her knees and lowered her head.

“I greet Her Highness, Princess Arabella, the Star of the Imperial Empire.”

“Let’s skip the pleasantries. Is the rumor true?”

Arabella narrowed her eyes with an ambiguous smile, as though she wanted something from Dalia.

One corner of her lips curved lazily upward.

Then, like an actress delivering a climactic line, Arabella raised her voice.

“They say you’re pregnant. As a maiden, no less!”

Her voice rang loudly throughout the ballroom.

Naturally, all eyes turned toward them.

“If you’re truly confident, then take this in your hand. If you’re really pregnant, the bead will turn pink. But if it’s all just rumor and misunderstanding? Then its color will remain the same.”

At Arabella’s words, Dalia’s face instantly turned pale.

Her trembling gaze fell upon the bead extended by the princess.

She must not touch it. And yet, if she refused, it would be tantamount to admitting the rumor was true.

Caught in a dilemma, Dalia merely pressed her lips tightly together.

Watching her, Arabella sneered loudly enough for the surrounding crowd to hear.

“How vulgar… who knows where you went playing with fire—!”

Just as she was about to continue—

“It wasn’t playing with fire.”

A low yet clear voice cut through the air as someone slowly approached from afar.

“…Duke Lancaster?”

Arabella’s brow twisted in displeasure.

“How did you even—!”

He walked straight over and stood beside Dalia like a knight protecting her.

“It’s true. Lady Noirouz is pregnant. And the father of the child she carries is—”

He fixed his gaze firmly on her as he declared,

“Me.”

“…Lancaster!”

Startled, Dalia hurriedly tried to stop Leonel, but he showed no intention of holding his tongue.

“Do you know how much I pleaded and begged before finally receiving permission to marry her?”

Instead, Leonel wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close.

“It took ten whole years. My unrequited love, you see.”

It was an openly romantic tale, as though he were inviting even more rumors to spread.

If not for the fact that it was a lie, it would have been perfect.

Dalia found herself staring at him with trembling eyes.

“Let’s go, Dalia.”

Ignoring the visibly shaking Arabella entirely, Leonel grasped Dalia’s wrist and led her out of the ballroom.

As she was pulled along, Dalia squeezed her eyes shut in distress.

How had things come to this?

What should have ended as nothing more than a fleeting night of reckless passion… had turned into this.

“Mm…”

The tickling warmth of sunlight stirred Dalia awake.

Still heavy with sleep, she reached out across the table.

Soon, her fingers found the ribbon she had untied the night before.

Slowly, she pushed herself up, her body aching.

Holding the ribbon between her lips, Dalia gathered her hair neatly and tied it up high.

As she tried to quietly slip out of bed, a low voice came from behind her.

“Did you sleep well?”

Her pink eyes lazily rolled toward the owner of the voice.

“Dalia.”

At that, one of her brows lifted in irritation.

“I told you not to call me so familiarly.”

“I can’t help it. We’ve been friends since before we were even old enough to remember.”

He rose leisurely, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Though neither of them wore a single thread of clothing, neither felt any embarrassment.

As if it were just another part of her mundane routine, she calmly stood and draped a silk robe over her shoulders.

How did I end up in this kind of relationship with the Duke of Lancaster…

In truth, they were neither lovers nor married.

Dalia stared at Leonel, who had somehow become this kind of presence in her life.

Leonel de Lancaster, Duke of Lancaster.

His noble title and the immense wealth of the Lancaster family made him the most desirable bachelor any mother with an unmarried daughter could hope for.

And that wasn’t all.

His sharply defined features, as if sculpted by the gods themselves, his broad shoulders, and his height towering over most men—

Not to mention his golden hair that gleamed like molten sunlight and his refreshing, ocean-blue eyes.

There was likely no woman in the empire who would refuse him.

Without realizing it, she found herself staring at him.

He really is perfect. Anyone would want him…

Having risen from bed, Leonel was already dressing himself in a freshly pressed shirt, replacing the white one he had hastily removed the night before.

Always neat and impeccable like that—it was no wonder the nobles were desperate to arrange marriages with him.

Thinking how mismatched they were, a faint, hollow laugh escaped Dalia’s lips.

“Why?”

Sensing her gaze, he asked as he draped his tie around his neck.

Wrapped in her robe, she slowly approached him.

Soon, their bodies drew close, as though they might kiss at any moment.

He blinked rapidly, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing slightly.

“You’re good at everything, but…”

Ah, come to think of it—there was one thing Leonel couldn’t do.

Dalia wrapped her arms around his neck as if to tempt him.

But what she did next was simply loosen his tie and neatly retie it.

“You’ve never been able to tie this properly.”

With a small smile, she finished adjusting it and sat on the edge of the bed.

By now, he was fully dressed.

Crossing her legs, Dalia looked at him leisurely.

“Lancaster.”

“Mm?”

“Why don’t you get married?”

He looked momentarily taken aback, clearly not expecting the question.

But soon, he answered.

“You already know why.”

“Because of your father?”

“Yes. I have no intention of continuing the Lancaster bloodline.”

At the mention of his father, his hand clenched into a fist.

When Leonel was eight years old—

Though the details were unclear due to his young age and the lack of records, the former Duke of Lancaster had been executed for committing a grave crime.

His mother had also been executed alongside him.

Had it not been for the Empress’s earnest plea—she who had been close to Leonel’s mother—Leonel himself might have lost both his title and his life.

“…What about you?”

Shaking his head as if to cast away unpleasant memories, he asked Dalia in return.

“What?”

“Marriage. You really have no intention?”

“Of course not.”

Her expression darkened slightly as she shook her head.

“Really?”

“You know my situation.”

Dalia replied calmly, a cold smile forming on her lips.

Dalia El Noirouz.

Though she was born the eldest daughter of the prestigious Noirouz County family, its once-great tradition had long since faded into decline.

Even so, her parents had continued to have children.

She was the eldest among four younger brothers.

Those immature siblings clung to her like vines, weighing her down.

“This month, I couldn’t spend a single coin on my research. It all went to those idiots’ tuition. Every last bit.”

In the depths of poverty, she needed money.

From a young age, she had pursued the study of ancient history—an unpopular field—solely to secure imperial research funding.

She spent nights writing reports, deciphering ancient texts, and conducting research.

And the funds she earned were entirely drained into her brothers’ education and the family’s expenses.

“Who would marry a woman without a dowry? I’d be lucky if they didn’t just sell me off somewhere. And besides…”

Still unable to suppress her frustration, she bit down hard and continued,

“I’m the ‘Wallflower Rose,’ remember?”

Despite everything, as a noble, she was sometimes forced to attend social gatherings.

But due to her poverty, she always wore the same dress, with no jewels to speak of.

Gradually isolated from society, she had earned the unflattering nickname “Wallflower Rose.”

Worse still, rumors spread that her research into ancient history and mysticism meant she was secretly a witch practicing dark arts.

Given all this, it was only natural that Dalia was skeptical of marriage.

To her, it was nothing more than a pointless custom that bound one person to another under the name of family.

Come to think of it, it’s strange. Neither Lancaster nor I even dream of marriage. Maybe that’s why we can have this kind of relationship.

Tilting her head slightly at the sudden thought, she reflected.

How had things between them come to this?

At first, they were merely childhood friends—because her late mother and the former Duchess of Lancaster had been close.

They had remained friends for twenty years.

Then, about a year ago—

At a ball where no one spoke to her, she had been drinking alone as usual.

For some reason, she drank heavily that night.

And the next morning, they woke up in the same bed.

Though her memory was hazy from the alcohol, she hadn’t forgotten what happened between them.

At first, she had felt a bit embarrassed—wondering why it had to be Leonel, even kicking the blankets in frustration.

But once it happened once, it wasn’t difficult for it to happen again.

Since then, they had spent nights together from time to time—no, quite often.

Returning from her thoughts, Dalia uncrossed her legs and muttered casually,

“You’ve heard the rumors, right? That I’m a witch. Sure, black hair isn’t common in the Empire, but a witch? It’s ridiculous.”

“Don’t waste your emotions on people who don’t know you properly.”

Agreeing casually, Leonel straightened his suit and stepped closer to her.

His large hand gently tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear.

For a brief moment, Dalia’s eyes wavered.

Sometimes, Leonel would initiate touches that belonged more to lovers.

At times like this, a strange thought crossed her mind.

As if he were—

“Knowing you properly… one person is enough.”

“One is already too many.”

As if he loved her.

That can’t be.

Letting out a quiet, self-mocking laugh, she pushed the thought away.

“Still, studying the ancient Imperial Empire is quite interesting. If it weren’t, I wouldn’t have made it to the academy’s highest course.”

“If you ask me—”

Leonel crossed his arms and said with exaggerated flair,

“You’re a bit of a genius.”

“There you go again.”

“Who knows you better than I do?”

He chuckled lightly.

“If it’s coming from a longtime friend, why not believe it?”

“Friend, my foot.”

Embarrassed, Dalia’s words came out sharper than intended.

“If not a friend—”

At that, his blue eyes gleamed strangely bright.

“Then what were all those nights we spent together?”

“What? Well… just…”

Caught off guard by his unexpected tone, she faltered briefly.

Then answered plainly,

“Playing with fire.”

Yes—between them, that was all it was.

“…You’re right.”

Leonel accepted her words without hesitation, brushing back his golden hair with a faint smile.

“See?”

Meeting his gaze, Dalia smiled as well.

They were both adults, capable of taking responsibility.

So what if they indulged in a little reckless passion now and then?

As long as that fire didn’t grow into something much larger.