Chapter 2
When she first regained her memories, Prisia had been convinced this place was some unknown, fantastical world.
But as time went on, familiar names began to surface here and there.
And the moment she heard a name that could make her bolt upright in her sleep, a dreadful suspicion crept in.
“That’s right. Wilfred Cromford. He’s quite remarkable—secured the title of Duke at just twenty-four, beating out all his rivals.”
Even without Matthew’s explanation, Prisia knew far more than he could ever tell her.
Thanks to the memories of her previous life—where she was practically starving for every crumb of content from the original story—she now possessed a wealth of information without anyone having to explain it.
“Height: 6 crobats (185cm), weight: 20 lons (75kg). A handsome blond man with dazzling hair passed down through the Cromford family. His hobby? Hunting.”
“How do you know that?”
The moment she spoke, Matthew’s gaze sharpened.
He usually didn’t show much emotion, but now even Lily looked at her with suspicion.
“You hardly even go out, though,” Lily said.
“You might not care, Lily, since you’re so popular, but every lady who likes the Duke of Cromford knows these things.”
That was… only half true.
The original story briefly touched on the Duke’s past.
They described him as an unrepentant parricide who killed his family to seize the family headship. Due to his notorious reputation, noble families avoided marrying into the Cromford line.
She remembered reading that he married a woman from an insignificant family just to maintain his title. But that was it.
As the story progressed, his existence faded more and more into the background. And since she supported the sweet love story between the villainess and the male lead, she hadn’t paid much attention to the Duke, who was more of an obstacle.
“Wait, don’t tell me… you like the Duke of Cromford?”
Matthew asked with a serious expression, and Prisia hesitated for a moment.
It’s not like they would ever get involved, but there was no reason to deny it either.
“I do.”
Everyone liked him, after all. It was more like admiring a celebrity on TV, and besides, liking the Duke of Cromford made for a good enough excuse.
“I won’t marry anyone unless it’s the Duke of Cromford.”
She had declared it with confidence, thinking it was something that would never happen—never in a million years did she imagine those very words would come back to haunt her.
She had thought it might be nice to see her favorite character in person, but not like this.
When she heard that the Duke would be attending the ball, her heart fluttered—but she also felt a twinge of fear.
Reading about his obsessive, possessive character in the book had been entertaining—but that was in fiction.
Admiring him from afar would be wonderful, but with the “villain” label he carried, even the slightest offense could mean…
If you were lucky, assassination. If not, your entire family line would be wiped out.
Even without marrying, her older sister Rose would surely take care of her until old age.
And if not, she could always live comfortably with her stunningly beautiful younger sister Lily, helping to care for her future children.
All she wanted in this life was to live quietly and peacefully.
Whispering this wish in her heart, Prisia stepped down from the carriage and climbed the stairs to the imperial palace.
“Lady Lily.”
At the entrance, a line of noble sons stood waiting to escort the lovely Lily.
“Sis, I’m heading in first.”
Lily—who looked like she could snag the crown prince if she wanted—radiated goddess-level beauty even to Prisia, her own sister.
With eyes like sparkling deer and a sculpted nose, Lily had the beauty of a walking doll. She picked the handsomest partner from the crowd and walked gracefully into the ballroom.
“Must be nice to be so popular.”
Once Lily entered, the rest of the waiting men scattered like leaves in the wind.
Left standing alone like a forgotten sack of barley, Prisia stared blankly at the ballroom entrance with a sour expression.
“Should I just go home?”
“Come on, you’ve got me, your big brother!”
“Wow, I’m moved to tears.”
Unlike always-popular Lily, Prisia’s dance partner at every debutante event had always been her childhood friend Matthew.
Maybe he felt sorry for her—but dancing with him was still better than being pitied for standing around alone.
“So, about earlier…”
“What about it?”
“The Duke of Cromford. Do you know him personally?”
“Of course not. I’ve never even seen him in person.”
She had seen him plenty on the book cover, but never in real life—so technically, she wasn’t lying.
“It’s like a one-sided crush. So stop asking.”
Sure, she liked him—but only when he was a fictional character.
To be exact, she liked him as a character meant to be matched up (or clashed) with the protagonist.
She had no intention of marrying anyone. The only reason she was even at this ball was because of Lily.
“Our Lily really is so pretty.”
With skin like polished pearls and eyes like amethysts, Lily’s name had actually been mentioned once in the original novel—as a background extra.
She was described as “the most beautiful woman in the world, Lily Devlan.”
It was just a throwaway line, but becoming family with her had made life exhausting in its own way.
When Lily debuted, she had faced endless bullying. But being a strong girl, she’d overcome it.
People whispered that she was rude, but no one could deny that she was the cutest sister in the world—to Prisia, at least.
“Sir Matthew…”
As they chatted, a young lady approached Matthew and asked for a dance.
Though he’d become a bit boring after showing up so often, Matthew was still heir to the Napier Marquisate.
Lily had gotten dragged into drama after her debut, mostly because some noble daughters with a crush on Matthew saw her as a threat.
They were too scared to confront strong-willed Rose, and Prisia was too plain to be worth their jealousy.
So Lily had ended up taking the fall, even though none of them had any romantic feelings at all.
To ease their guard, Prisia decided to act gracious.
“Go ahead and dance.”
“But…”
And since Prisia had other motives tonight, she gave Matthew a push.
Lily, for her part, had quickly adjusted—already on her fifth dance partner and twirling through the ballroom like a pro.
And if anything went wrong, Matthew would be there to help.
Waving her hand at them with a smile, Prisia quietly slipped out of the ballroom.
She’d tried to ignore it, but ever since the Duke of Cromford’s name came up, her mind kept returning to it.
Her favorite character, alive and breathing…!
His icy blue eyes, as if carved from crystal. His golden hair, like honey poured over sunlight.
It wasn’t too much to want to see him in person, was it?
The noble council might finish soon, and he could leave immediately afterward—so she decided to sneak into the inner palace on the pretense of being lost.
If needed, she could always say she was looking for Rose.
Quietly, she asked nearby maids for directions and tiptoed toward the palace interior.
“Where am I…?”
The bell tower had chimed eleven, meaning it had been about an hour since she left the ballroom. It was clear now—she was lost.
Prisia, ever the average girl, had one fatal flaw:
“Why, why do I have such a terrible sense of direction!?”
Even if she didn’t get any special talents in this life, why did she have to be cursed with such a ridiculous penalty?
She’d thought it would be easy to find her way. But after turning corner after corner, she somehow ended up right back where she started.
“What kind of maze is this?”
Not a single person passed by. She was starting to think she needed to seriously plan how to escape this labyrinth.
Just as she was searching for any sign of human life, she heard a woman’s voice from somewhere ahead.
She lit up. Finally—someone who could help her get out!
But just as she stepped forward, she quickly ducked behind a pillar again.
Every royal ball had its dress code, and those hosted by the imperial family were especially strict. Even the smallest ornament revealed a person’s status.
And the delicate little tiara on that woman’s head clearly meant one thing:
A princess!
She recognized the princess’s face immediately. But she couldn’t see who the other person was.
Flattening herself against the wall, Prisia strained to listen to their conversation.
“Have you given thought to what Father discussed with you last time?”
“I already refused that matter.”
“You refused a marriage proposal from the imperial family?”
Her hands flew to her mouth.
In this world, which hadn’t yet adopted modern law, rejecting the emperor could mean literal execution.
But then, a voice answered—a deep, low baritone that echoed like it was coming from inside a cavern.
It was so captivating, he could be a voice actor.
Prisia poked her head out slightly, curious who it belonged to.
She couldn’t see his face—only a billowing cloak.
If she pushed her luck and got caught eavesdropping, it would be disastrous. She didn’t dare make a sound.
“I know your secret.”
Oh no.
Why, of all people, did the princess have to stir up trouble herself?
