Chapter 4: Crown Prince Ian

Crown Prince Ian stood before her, elegantly extending his hand in invitation. Solene suppressed the surge of resentment within her, offering a practiced smile as she gazed into his deep blue eyes.

Ian’s gaze was tender, a faint smile playing on his lips, but to her, it was utterly loathsome.

His dance steps were polished and fluid, executed with graceful poise.

He must have danced with countless women before,

she thought with a flicker of disgust.

The music was melodious and haunting, yet it seemed wasted on a man like him.

"Happy eighteenth birthday, Miss Solene." His voice was low, seemingly an attempt to mask the lingering boyishness of his youth, though it still carried a hint of innocence.

Twirling and drawing her close by the waist, they moved in perfect synchrony. Their beauty complemented each other so well they looked like a young couple plucked from a classic oil painting.

"It is a profound honor to receive Your Highness's blessing." Her words were layered with detached flattery; had she truly intended to seduce him, she would have spoken with far more sincerity.

Ian did not reply. He simply immersed himself in the fragrance of roses and the depth of Solene’s pale gold eyes.

Solene would never know that Ian had sought her out in the shadows of every banquet he attended. No one suspected that the supreme Crown Prince of the Empire would secretly harbor a crush.

The Empress, however, saw everything with terrifying clarity. To her, Solene becoming the Crown Princess was a masterstroke. A common-born ward of an Earl... and a Prince who was still far too young.

The Empress’s calculations were precise; this match not only tightened her bond with the Prince and secured his gratitude but also placed his future influence within her reach. The realization of her grand ambitions felt closer than ever.

Watching the pair dance with such abandon in the ballroom, the Empress couldn't help but let out a triumphant laugh.

"Everyone, join in!" she called out enthusiastically.

As the music faded, the crowd swarmed the floor, and Solene and Ian made their exit.

Caleb stared at his father in disbelief—at those eyes that had never once held his reflection. No one cared for him, save for his sister, Solene. He moved desperately to reach her, only to recoil under his father’s sharp, piercing glare.

Heartsick and overwhelmed, he turned and snatched a bottle of wine before storming out. His sudden departure left everyone stunned, the Empress included.

Solene watched his retreating back, her brow furrowed in confusion.

He has the courage to walk out, yet not the courage to say a single word?

She clenched her fists until her nails bit into her palms, the sharp pain clearing her mind.

Glancing at the Empress, who was nonchalantly raising a glass, Solene took a drink from a passing waiter’s tray and joined the toast.

Ian stood by Solene’s side, smiling gratefully at his mother. He hadn't expected this to be the "gift" she had promised; today was the happiest day of his life. He struggled to contain the excitement of a seventeen-year-old boy whose love was as pure as it was fervent.

With his golden hair and pale blue eyes, he looked like a descending deity—but Solene had never believed in gods. If they truly existed, their protection would surely fall first upon the hardworking farmers of the Lowlands, not the decadent nobility and royalty.

The people in the cathedral didn't even bother to lie to those from the Lowlands, while the lower-class residents of the Inner City looked down on the Lowlanders even as they worshipped at the Goddess's feet, forgetting they were mere servants themselves.

Solene took a deep breath, smiling at the dancing nobles. Their joy and freedom were built entirely upon the suffering of the Lowland slaves.

The Empress stood alongside Earl Dagon and formally announced the betrothal of Solene and the Crown Prince. A collective gasp rippled through the room. Liliana and Solene’s eyes met, exchanging a silent message. Her mother’s gaze told her one thing:

The plan continues.

The engagement changed nothing about the ultimate fate of the Dagon family. However, a new scheme was already taking root in Solene’s mind; she intended to drag even more nobles—perhaps even the Imperial family—into the fray.

She turned to smile at Ian, only to find him still staring at her. Those eyes were truly repulsive.

After offering his blessings to Solene and confirming her noble status, Earl Dagon swept Liliana away. The Empress and the Prince decided to stay the night, but the presence of guards, knights, and mages outside filled Solene with apprehension. She wasn't certain if her mother’s plan could still succeed.

Ian invited Solene to the rose garden for tea. On the way, they happened upon the Empress locked in an embrace with her lover—an act so bold it was staggering; she even brought him along on her travels. Looking at the unfamiliar face, Solene knew the Empress had found someone new. Her former lovers had all, without exception, vanished.

Solene forced a smile and bowed low; this was the Empress’s way of issuing a warning.

The Empress waved them off. "Go find my son; he’s already quite impatient, mmm~" With that, she hurried away with her paramour, something seemingly tucked beneath her skirts.

Solene clutched her chest as a wave of nausea washed over her. she fled the scene quickly.

Spotting Ian sitting quietly in the rose garden, she took a deep breath, savoring the crisp, clean air. This garden had been built by Earl Dagon for her mother—a conservatory where roses of every color bloomed in breathtaking beauty.

"Miss Solene!" Ian rose nervously, pulling out a chair for her.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Solene murmured, bowing her head. Ian smiled as he poured the tea. "Try this rose tea. I’ve added some honey; I hope it suits your taste."

Adding honey to rose tea was the sort of thing that would invite ridicule among noble ladies.

"A unique touch," Solene said, taking a small sip. "It’s quite good."

Ian beamed, his white teeth flashing in a bright smile as a gentle breeze brushed past.

How could there be a breeze in a sealed conservatory?

Solene wondered privately, though she figured she was simply on edge because of her mother’s plan.

She took another sip. It was indeed pleasant; the honey masked the bitterness of the roses. She wasn't fond of sweets, but he hadn't added much—it was just right. Ian, however, seemed to love it, adding a large extra spoonful to his own cup.

"Ah, I have a bit of a sweet tooth," Ian explained with a smile, noticing her gaze.

Solene replied with a smile of her own. "Then Your Highness must try the pastries at Yano’s."

Ian looked as though he had found a kindred spirit. "You know Yano’s? I often sneak out to eat there. I think her craft is even better than the royal pastry chefs'."

Solene remained silent, her smile unchanging.

A Crown Prince of the Empire, exposing his personal tastes so candidly... is he truly foolish, or truly sincere?

She couldn't begin to understand him.

Seeing her silence, Ian’s cheeks flushed. He leaned back in his chair and blinked. "Once my eighteenth birthday passes, you’ll be my Princess. Are you happy?"

Solene was caught off guard by the bluntness of the question. She faltered for a moment before answering, "I am deeply honored."

The answer seemed to disappoint him slightly. He hesitated, but ultimately said nothing, comforting himself with the thought:

We’ve only just met; it will get better as we spend more time together.

"In a few days, come with me to choose a formal suit. Duke Vance’s eldest son is getting married next week. We’ll go together so you can meet my friends."

His smile made Solene feel irritable. It was too pure; it made her skin crawl.

"Fire!" A scream shattered the night.

"The Earl and the Countess are still inside!" someone shouted frantically.

"And the young Master!" another voice added.

Outside, the world descended into chaos.

Inside the conservatory, the two had talked until late into the night, and no one had dared disturb them. When they finally stepped out, the bodies of the Earl, the Countess, and the young Master were already wrapped in white linen, lying silently on the ground.

Solene fought to maintain her composure, but her eyes reddened and her body swayed as if she were about to collapse. Ian caught her just in time. Tears flooded her eyes as she thought of her father who had taken his own life, and she began to sob uncontrollably.

Years of grievance and fury finally broke through. In her heart, she whispered:

Mother, we’ve finally done it! Finally!

Her long-overdue breakdown finally found its vent. Her agony was so visceral that no one suspected the sincerity of the sole beneficiary of the estate. The entire Dagon fortune now sat in her hands.

Because the mages had arrived quickly to douse the flames, the three bodies remained intact. The Empress was still in bed, indifferent to the turmoil outside.

The fire had started from a candle near a curtain, fueled by a woman’s hair oil. The knights concluded the couple had been too "distracted" in bed to notice the fire until it was too late. Such accidents were common enough that people accepted the explanation without much scrutiny.

In the dead of night, Solene crept into Caleb’s room and snatched a note from his desk. It read: "Meet me on the second floor of the East Wing."

She took a shaky breath. This had all been her mother’s plan—a decade in the making—to seize the family fortune and exact her revenge. Her mother had once said they would use the money to help the children of the Lowlands. But in Solene’s heart, a far more radical ambition was beginning to stir.

Solene would never know that Caleb had never seen that note. He had been drinking, and he had taken a knife to find his father himself. Facing the inferno on the second floor, he’d had a chance to escape.

But he had seen Liliana, who was pinning Dagon down with a death grip, collapse first from the smoke. When Dagon struggled to rise and flee, Caleb had pinned him back down, hiding his knife in a vase and perishing in the flames alongside his father.

The fire had consumed everything. All secrets were buried in ash, known to no one.

With Ian by her side, Solene officially inherited the Earl’s manor. Her distant relatives said nothing, but from the glint in their eyes, Solene knew they would not let this go easily.

In the cathedral, the priest solemnly presided over the funeral while the crowd sat in hushed silence. Solene was dressed in black, looking exceptionally dignified. Ian remained by her side throughout, and the Empress also attended to pay her respects.

The Empress cared nothing for the Earl’s passing. But she knew she had to perform for her faction, to show her "loyalty and grace." She even used the occasion to boast within her inner circle that her choice of Solene for the Prince was a reward for the Dagon family's devotion.

However, the engagement still drew ire from some noble families in the Empress’s camp. They questioned why their own daughters hadn't been chosen. Facing their scrutiny, the Empress gave no direct answer, offering only a sharp, powerful remark: "Win it for yourselves."