Deep within the royal palace, the audience hall was brightly lit tonight.
But what illuminated the hall wasn’t the brilliance of a celebration, but a stifling rage that made it hard to breathe.
A scarlet long carpet stretched from the door all the way to the foot of the throne, and Prim knelt on that glaring red, her pink curls disheveled and cascading over her shoulders.
She kept her head lowered, her hands clenched tightly on her knees, not daring to breathe loudly.
On the throne, King Beint III looked down at his daughter.
This monarch, nearing fifty, had eyes sharp as a falcon’s, and at this moment, his usually stern face was covered in frost.
“Rejected in public.”
The king’s voice wasn’t loud, yet it smashed into the hall like a heavy hammer.
“My daughter, the third princess of the kingdom, rejected for a marriage proposal in front of half the nobles and knights in the royal capital—by a second son without even a title.”
Prim’s shoulders trembled slightly.
“And that’s not all.”
The king stood up, the heavy hem of his royal robe dragging over the steps.
“I told you to keep this person at all costs—this hero who crushed a divine calamity with one punch and saved half the royal capital. And what did you do?”
He descended the throne steps one by one, his footsteps echoing in the empty hall.
“You humiliated him publicly at the arena entrance.”
The king stopped in front of her, his shadow enveloping the kneeling princess.
“‘Mere commoner,’ ‘Your life is worthless compared to the kingdom’s reputation’—are these words a princess should say to a national hero?”
“Father, I…” Prim tried to explain.
“Shut up!” The king’s roar made her tremble all over. “I’m not done!”
“Moreover, this disaster could have been avoided. Knight Abel had foreseen the calamity in advance and told you at the arena entrance to stop the ‘Goddess Festival,’ yet you turned a deaf ear?”
The king grew angrier as he spoke—tonight’s victims weren’t just commoners; many of the kingdom’s nobles were among them.
Just thinking about the aftermath made the king’s head ache.
And when he thought about how it all could have been prevented, he found this useless daughter of his increasingly unbearable.
“Father, th-that’s not my fault!”
Prim still tried to defend herself.
“How was I supposed to know he was telling the truth? If it was false, wouldn’t the kingdom’s reputation be ruined? Everything your daughter did was for the kingdom’s sake!”
“Still making excuses?”
The king interrupted her, his chest heaving.
“You might not believe a wandering knight, but how could you not believe Marquis Julius? Is he the type to spout nonsense?!”
What angered the king even more was that it hadn’t been Abel alone who came—it was with his brother, Marquis Julius!
Prim’s public humiliation wasn’t just aimed at Abel; it was disrespect toward the Noct family.
Even as royalty, they had to be polite when facing a powerful noble like Marquis Noct.
Nearly half the kingdom’s taxes were in that man’s hands!
“Father, you can’t blame me for that either. I was just angry that he refused the kingdom’s recruitment…”
Prim finally couldn’t hold back and lifted her head, tears in her eyes.
“And it’s all Abel’s fault! If he’d agreed sooner—”
“If?” The king cut her off. “The two most useless words in the world are ‘if’! The fact is, you messed up! And you nearly let the church snatch him away!”
He walked back to the throne, sitting down heavily, his fingers tapping the armrest.
“Now tell me, my good daughter, what do you plan to do next? Punish Marquis Noct? Force his brother to submit?”
Prim was stunned for a moment, then nodded subconsciously. “As long as we pressure the marquis—”
“Foolish!” The king slammed the armrest fiercely.
“Julius Noct commands three legions, controls the economic lifeline of the trade capital, and holds immense prestige among the kingdom’s nobles! Do you want to force him to rebel? Do you want to plunge the kingdom into civil war?!”
Those words were like a bucket of cold water, snapping Prim fully awake.
Only then did she realize how close she’d come to committing such a huge mistake.
Driven by anger and shame, she’d only thought of revenge, forgetting the most basic political common sense.
“Th-then what should we do…” Her voice weakened.
The king was silent for a long time.
In the hall, there was only the crackling of firewood in the fireplace.
Outside the window, night rain began to patter against the stained glass, making dull tapping sounds.
“Father has already paved the way for you.” The king finally spoke, his voice weary.
“The appointment letter was given, the marriage was tacitly approved, and I even hinted in front of the ministers that you’re a strong contender for the next heir—all of this was to give you enough leverage to keep this person.”
He stood up and walked to the window, gazing at the royal capital’s night view blurred by rainwater outside.
“But he still refused. Why? Because at the most critical moment, you chose humiliation over respect.”
The king turned around, his gaze like a knife. “Now, I’m giving you one last chance. Also the kingdom’s last chance.”
He descended the steps, stopped in front of Prim, bent down, and said in a voice only the two of them could hear:
“At all costs, keep him in the kingdom. Use pleas, use promises, use beauty, use any method you can think of. If he refuses again…”
The king straightened up, his voice returning to its usual authority:
“Then you as a princess will have no reason to exist. I will announce that you voluntarily enter the convent, to serve the goddess for life. The royal family’s face cannot be damaged again.”
Prim jerked her head up, her eyes full of terror.
Entering the convent…
It meant being stripped of all titles, wealth, freedom, and spending the rest of her life with oil lamps and ancient Buddhas.
For a princess who had enjoyed a luxurious life for over a decade, this was worse than a death sentence.
“Do you understand?” The king asked.
“…I understand.” Prim lowered her head, her voice dry.
“Go now. You know what to do next.”
“Yes…”
Prim struggled to stand up, her knees numb from kneeling so long.
She staggered a bit, barely steadying herself, gave her father a curtsy, then turned toward the door.
It’s all his fault!
This thought grew wildly in her mind.
If not for his refusal, if not for him making this princess lose face in public, if not for him…
Yes, if he hadn’t appeared, everything would have developed in a beautiful direction!
Resentment spread endlessly in her heart.
But at the same time, fear was also spreading—
Fear of the convent, fear of losing everything.
These two emotions clashed fiercely in her heart, making it hard for her to breathe.
Stepping out of the audience hall, the icy night wind mixed with rain slapped her face.
Prim shivered, only then realizing her back was soaked with cold sweat.
“Sister.”
A gentle voice came from the shadows in the corridor.
Prim turned her head and saw her second brother, Second Prince Lyle, leaning against a pillar.
This prince with light golden hair and a gentle smile had always been her closest brother.
“Brother Lyle…” Prim’s voice carried a sob.
Lyle stepped forward, took off his own velvet cloak, and gently draped it over his sister’s shoulders.
His actions were gentle and considerate, in stark contrast to the king’s severity.
“I heard everything.” He said softly. “Father’s words… were a bit harsh.”
“More than a bit!” Prim grabbed her brother’s sleeve, tears finally falling uncontrollably. “He actually threatened to send me to the convent! For a commoner!”
“He’s not a commoner anymore.” Lyle corrected, leading her toward his side hall.
“Someone who can crush a divine calamity with one punch—how could he still be a commoner? Father sees clearly; that’s a power the kingdom must hold in its hands.”
Entering the warm side hall living room, Lyle signaled the maids to withdraw and personally poured his sister a cup of hot tea.
“But how is he supposed to hold it?” Whether from the passing chill wind or something else, Prim’s fingers were trembling slightly.
“I’ve already humbled myself to invite him, even agreed to marry him! He still refused! That bastard, what right does he—”
“Because you don’t understand men.” Lyle sat down across from her, smiling as he said it.
Prim was stunned.
“What men want boils down to two things: face and power.”
Lyle picked up his own teacup, gently blowing away the steam.
“You humiliated him publicly at the arena entrance, making him lose face. Then you gave him a ‘commander’ position with a condescending attitude—in his eyes, that’s not a favor; it’s an insult.”
He paused, looking at his sister.
“If it were you, would you accept someone who slaps you while saying they love you?”
Prim fell silent.
“Then… what should I do?” She finally set aside her pride and humbly asked for advice.
Lyle’s smile deepened a bit.
“Overpraise.”