“Did you like the place?”
“Yes!”
“There’s only one way you can go there whenever you want.”
Her curled hair fell diagonally across her shoulder.
Dane had tied it up so neatly that there wasn’t a trace of any uneven cut.
‘He’s not about to suggest I work there as a gardener, is he?’
From the looks of the garden, they probably needed one.
“You saw the First Prince recently, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to be his playmate.”
“…What?”
The one who shouted wasn’t Abelle—it was Dane.
Even on the battlefield, where he maintained his composure while cutting down enemies, he now bowed his head and pleaded with the king.
“Your Majesty, such a position is too much for my daughter. Abelle is still young, reckless, and far too—”
“I’ll do it.”
“Belle!”
“I can do it well. Dad, don’t you trust me?”
“Uh…”
“Come on, trust me just this once.”
With a confident—though deeply worrying, in her father’s eyes—expression, Abelle repeated herself.
“I will do my best, Your Majesty.”
“I knew a daughter of the Delafion family would say that.”
Her father rubbed his forehead and moved his lips wordlessly, but Abelle had no intention of taking back her decision.
“The auxiliary palace belongs to the First Prince, after all. There’s no other way.”
“I’ll try to have as much fun as possible with him, Your Highness.”
‘Whatever the old man is scheming, this is the perfect role for me.’
“The prince will get the message from me. And you’ll inform the knights.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
She even got a solid excuse.
Abelle had no more reason to hesitate.
* * *
“Big sis, where are you going?”
“I’m off to slay a dragon, save a princess, and rescue the world.”
“Wearing a dress with five layers of lace?”
“A true hero doesn’t get hung up on outfits… much.”
“What are you even saying?”
“How do I look?”
The fluttery white lace spun once clockwise and once counterclockwise.
Each time she twirled, the layered lace fluttered like a blooming flower bud.
‘It’s not easy being this cute.’
After tearing through her wardrobe for two hours, Abelle looked the most polished she had in her entire ten-year life.
A peach-pink dress lighter than her hair color.
Pink hair braided in twin tails.
Cream-colored ribbons tied at the ends of her hair!
Even a stranger passing by would turn to look at least three times.
“Going to a wedding or something?”
“It’s that important, yeah.”
“What?”
His gray eyes demanded an explanation.
But Abelle ignored her younger brother’s stare and stroked her chubby cheeks.
“If someone doesn’t feel anything from this level of cuteness, their soul is dry.”
Speechless, her brother finally figured it out on his own.
“Now that I think about it… you’re meeting the First Prince today, right?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And it’s as important as a wedding?”
“Exactly.”
Because she already tanked her likability score. She couldn’t afford to make a worse impression.
As if he understood her resolve, Sananet—who resembled their father—spoke gently.
“Then, sis. First of all, shut your mouth.”
This little punk.
If he hadn’t yelled “Come back early!” while running away, she’d have given him a million kisses.
“I’m off!”
Abelle left the house, hoping every day could be like today.
“It’s an honor to meet you again, First Prince. I am Abelle, the eldest daughter of Baron Delafion.”
“How revolting. Spare me the pleasantries, will you?”
“Shall I?”
“Huh!”
Abelle swiftly dropped the formalities and casually looked around the room.
The sitting room was sparsely furnished. Not even a piece of cake on display.
‘No attendants either.’
The one who’d shown her in had turned around and left as soon as they arrived.
The carpet was threadbare, and the windows stained with layers of rainwater.
“I thought it was a joke, but it’s true.”
The prince, sitting on a beige sofa, twisted his lips and muttered.
“You’re supposed to be my playmate?”
“Yes. I wasn’t sure what Your Highness would like, so I brought a bit of everything…”
As she slowly approached the long couch, a chilly voice stopped her in her tracks.
“I never gave you permission to sit.”
“Um, I carried all this heavy stuff just to get here.”
“So?”
“I’m just saying.”
She knew exactly what he was doing. He wasn’t clueless—he was being deliberately prickly.
Abelle set down her bags on a chair and stood up straight, staring down at the prince.
Under his neatly swept-back black hair, his sharp eyes stood out.
“Playmate, huh…”
“Relationships with peers are incredibly important during childhood and adolescence.”
“What?”
“They help develop empathy and consideration for others.”
Her gentle gaze grew even softer.
‘And you, in particular, really need those qualities.’
Even villains from tragic novels would falter in front of a smile like hers. But the First Prince only scoffed.
“Ridiculous.”
“Your soul really is dried out… completely.”
“What did you say?”
“I said I hope Your Highness will develop some artistic sensitivity.”
That way, he’d be more at ease with her cuteness—and she’d be happier too.
Abelle shook her head in genuine pity.
Whatever he read from that gesture, the prince’s expression turned even nastier.
“I don’t want to argue with you anymore. Get out.”
Her baby-fat cheeks flushed red in a matter of seconds.
The prince stood up, crossed his arms, and snapped sharply.
“Turn around and get lost.”
“Mm, a bit of a temper, aren’t we?”
“Took you long enough to notice.”
“Friends learn new things about each other, one by one.”
Abelle walked purposefully toward the window behind the couch.
The prince, watching in confusion, finally spoke up again.
“The door’s the other way.”
“I know.”
Clatter!
The stiff window swung wide open.
“You told me to turn around and get out, didn’t you?”
“What the—”
“It’s not like I can’t.”
Her small hand grabbed the windowsill. Her cream-colored shoes dangled in the air.
Her round knees rose to the ledge, and her small head leaned forward.
“Bye-bye, jerk prince!”
“Wait!”
The window was big enough that even a grown adult might topple through if they weren’t careful.
And the sitting room was on the second floor.
“Hey!”
Screeech!
The old sofa scraped backward, and a dry hand reached out toward the peach-pink dress.
Thud-thud!
The prince barely managed to catch her by the ankle.
Thrown off balance, both kids toppled to the floor.
“Are you insane?!”
“Tsk. Spitting into your own face isn’t a good habit.”
“What are you even—ugh, whatever.”
His perfectly combed hair was now sweaty and messy.
Abelle adjusted her neatly tied ribbon and shrugged.
“I was just doing what Your Highness told me. Why stop me?”
His black eyes blinked slowly.
As if stunned by her sheer audacity, the prince’s pale cheeks turned a shade of red.
“It’s fine. Even if I fell from this height, I wouldn’t get hurt.”
“What are you, a sword master?”
“Oh? Sword masters exist in this world?”
Maybe the male lead becomes one later?
She thought about it but came up with nothing.
Unfortunately, the prince didn’t seem interested in explaining.
“Who would believe something so absurd…”
“Building trust is important.”
“Trust? What trust?!”
“Like trusting that I’ll follow your orders, Your Highness.”
As long as they’re not weird ones.
Not the most convincing vow, coming from someone who almost threw herself out a window moments ago.
The prince, panting, rubbed his face and muttered.
“Is it okay for a noble lady to behave like this?”
“I’m not a noble.”
“…What?”
“My father holds a baron title, but it’s non-hereditary.”
Dane Delafion had saved the king—then crown prince—on the battlefield.
As a reward, he was granted a non-inheritable title, a small mansion, and a position as a low-ranking royal knight.
‘Would’ve been better if they just gave him money.’
The estate was a royal gift, so they couldn’t sell it. And it cost a fortune to maintain.
“So while I am technically the daughter of a baron, I’m not a proper noble.”
At her calm explanation, the prince’s face twisted even more.
“So His Majesty really is trying to humiliate me…”
“Why?”
“Are you stupid or just cunning…?”
A deep sigh escaped his dry lips.
Worn out from stopping her antics, the prince collapsed onto the carpet and continued.
