I thought my debutante would be perfect.
I had believed that before it even began. I'd starved myself on a strict diet, and everything—from the dress to the makeup to my hair—fit beautifully.
My heart felt like it would explode with anticipation when the first waltz started.
The moment the dazzlingly handsome Leopold asked the daughter of the Marquis of Nordic for his first dance, everything fell apart.
I knew it, of course.
Leopold was reluctant to be engaged to me. The Crown Prince, betrothed to a member of the Imperial faction like Madeleine, had to appease the anxious aristocracy by asking the daughter of the neutral Marquis of Nordic to dance first.
But knowing it and experiencing it firsthand are two different things.
Even flashy jewelry and a sparkling dress couldn't cover up the feeling of being stained with dirt.
Despite my status as an Imperial Princess and the Crown Prince's fiancée, I became a wallflower at my own debutante—no one asked me to dance even once.
I wish someone would talk to me. Please—won't someone ask me to dance just once?
I remembered the desperation of that time—when it seemed like everyone was looking at me and whispering.
I hurriedly looked around, but neither the Duke, Conrad, nor Jade came to my rescue.
I felt like my smiling face would crack and break, so I held tightly to the hem of my dress.
The only good news was that I didn't behave disgracefully during my debutante.
I laughed every time Leopold glanced my way. When I did, he smiled sweetly back—as if to say, "Good job, Princess Madeleine."
It felt rewarding to appear resolute, like someone who would one day ascend to the position of Crown Princess.
During those twelve waltzes, the hand clutching my dress grew tired.
When I got home, I buried my face in my pillow and cried.
"Olivia."
Only after hearing Conrad's warning voice did I blink and pull myself out of old memories.
"Oh—I'm sorry. I was thinking about my debutante."
That had been two years ago. I'd grown so much since then.
Occasionally, I ate with my siblings in the evenings, and I'd even been given some real authority within the family.
I looked at Ethella, whose eyes were full of expectation.
"Ethella, you'll do much better than I did."
I meant it sincerely.
Ethella's cheeks flushed rosy.
"Really? Still... will you come with me when I make my debut?"
When young ladies made their debut, a noble lady or an older debutante usually accompanied them.
I reflexively looked at Conrad.
He had been looking at Ethella kindly, but the moment he faced me, his expression turned as cold as the midwinter north wind. His pursed lips told me I didn't even need to speak.
"...I'm not sure I can. I'll be busy with work at the imperial palace."
"You're busy, so it can't be helped. Ethella, I'll find a good lady to accompany you instead."
"Yes..."
Despite Conrad's attempt at comfort, Ethella picked at her food with a downcast expression.
Even though she tried to hold back, she couldn't hide her disappointment. Eventually, Ethella stood from her seat.
"I really enjoyed the meal. I'll go up first."
Her listless steps faded into the distance, and the dining room fell quiet.
Conrad lightly swirled his wine glass.
"Olivia."
"Yes, Brother."
"Who is your brother?"
What I'd said carelessly came back with a terrible answer.
Conrad spoke dryly:
"You need to understand this clearly."
"..."
"You are just a member of House Madeleine."
He said it in the most painful way possible.
Not a family member. Just a member of the Madeleines.
That one word felt like a huge wall separating me and Conrad.
His lips moved slowly. I knew exactly what he meant.
My fists clenched as if to brace against the shock. My fingernails dug into my palms, but even more painful words stabbed into me:
"So be good to Ethella. Don't you dare try to get close to her. Are you trying to drag Ethella down to your level?"
"How dare you talk to someone like me? Are you trying to make Ethella like my mother? Are you trying to bury her under your rumors?"
Conrad's words from years ago came back to me like a brand.
At those words, my younger self—who had wanted so desperately to play with Ethella—gave up that desire without hesitation.
I knew very well how much social gossip could hurt people.
So it was only natural for me to be careful not to hurt Ethella.
"Answer me."
There's nothing I can do about it now. If I work a little harder, I can become a Crown Princess recognized by Father, just like he said.
It will be different then.
If Conrad sees my efforts to successfully become Crown Princess, he'll finally accept me as family.
So I had to answer now.
I gave a reluctant reply, clenching my numb fists once again:
"...Yes."
Only then did Conrad seem to ease his temper slightly. He gestured toward the dining room door.
"Get out."
"Then I'll take my leave. Have a good evening, Brother."
Those last words were half sincere and half revenge.
I hurried out of the dining room and quickly closed the door behind me.
There was no one in the hallway.
I took in a breath, then released it slowly.
It was Mother's habit. She said that even when she was tired, once she could breathe properly, she'd feel strong again.
I added one more thing to this habit: I promised myself I would become a beloved Crown Princess.
That's the only way now. If I become Crown Princess, my family and Leopold—everyone—will smile brightly at me.
I clung to my last hope, trying desperately to keep smiling.
Even while ignoring the fact that the corners of my smile were falling apart...
---
Red wine sloshed in the crystal glass.
Conrad, left alone in the dining room, let out a heavy breath as if dispirited.
"Then I'll take my leave. Have a good evening, Brother."
Olivia is a disaster that came into this house.
Because of that child, his loving parents became worse than strangers. In the end, his mother died because of her.
Even if he tore her apart, it wouldn't cool his rage.
But she's a half-made Madeleine. Instead of Ethella, she's the bloodline sent to the imperial palace like a sheet of thin ice—to stay by that damned Prince's side.
That was all Olivia was to him. It would be enough if she just maintained that position.
She looked at him, Father, Jade, and Ethella with those green eyes—as if hoping for something.
Despite knowing what that meant, Conrad nipped her expectations in the bud whenever they began to rise.
Because that child doesn't deserve it.
The wine tasted bitter at the end.
As if to vent his annoying mood, Conrad pulled Jade's letter from his pocket.
He'd read it as soon as it arrived. Though he'd already received official reports from his work at the Foreign Office, he read the last part again:
'Victory is confirmed. As soon as a few things are resolved, I'll be back soon. Thank you always, Brother. Please take care of Father and Ethella.'
Naturally, not a single word was written about Olivia.
There's no reason to ask after a child who isn't within the bounds of family.
Conrad snorted and refolded Jade's letter.
In the last sentence, there was a part that had been overwritten several times with a pen—as if erasing something written incorrectly. Beneath it, the word 'Oli—' was faintly visible.
It's none of my business.
---
The only difference between him and the former Grand Duchess was that he never smiled.
The face of the Grand Duchess—who had always smiled so kindly—came to mind, and the Emperor raised one eyebrow.
When the previous Grand Duke disappeared and was presumed dead, the Grand Duchess was forcibly imprisoned in this very palace. Back then, she also looked at me the same way.
Just like her son, who now knelt before the Emperor without a trace of emotion.
"Edwin Lowell Vikander greets the sun of the Empire."
The voice echoing through the throne room was eerily cold.
The Emperor looked at the man—Edwin Lowell Vikander—with alert eyes.
"The Emperor's Dog."
A nickname secretly passed around for this man.
The Emperor's eyes flashed with greedy satisfaction at that fitting title.
His eyes are empty, as if he feels no emotions. And he has the skill to do everything perfectly, no matter what I ask of him.
He only had the title of Grand Duke, but what he actually did was no different from an assassin.
When the Emperor remembered the tasks he'd ordered him to complete, he felt so pleased it sent shivers down his spine.
That noble family 'Vikander'—reduced to nothing more than an assassination squad.
It had taken a long ten years to tame Vikander like this.
After the first Emperor and monarch swore their oaths, the Grand Duchy of Vikander was granted the bleak, cold, mountainous northern territory.
They had been thorns in the Empire's side—people who believed in their excellent swordsmanship and acted arrogantly.
But those who discovered mines and gold veins in the supposedly useless northern lands quickly overstepped the Imperial family's authority.
Naturally, the Emperor thought of the former Grand Duke Vikander—who had such a stiff neck.
That unlucky bastard who took the Princess of a ruined country—whom I wanted—as his Grand Duchess.
I was the one who broke their necks in the end.
Blinking his shining eyes, the Emperor spoke kindly:
"I heard the Grand Duke was always at the forefront of this war. As expected of Vikander."
"You praise me too highly, Your Majesty."
"The Grand Duke will be officially arriving soon, so we must hold a grand victory banquet. I look forward to the precious trophies you'll present to the Imperial family then."
"I will return to the palace immediately upon my arrival."
"Good. I'll look forward to it. Now that I think about it—isn't the Grand Duke already over twenty years old? You should marry soon and solidify your lineage."
The Emperor spoke softly, almost coaxingly.
"I have no such thoughts yet."
"Tsk, tsk. Don't be like that. After all, Vikander's only direct descendant is you, Grand Duke. In times like this, you need to strengthen your bloodline."
At the Emperor's words, the fist hidden beneath the Grand Duke's robe clenched so hard that tendons appeared.
The Emperor didn't notice, continuing to speak incoherently as his mood pleased:
"Now that I think about it, the Grand Duke couldn't even have a proper debutante, could you? I understand your knighthood ceremony was also held informally."
The Emperor trailed off, pretending not to remember.
Even though he clearly knows that during the Grand Duke's debutante, he was defeating the Serachi tribe creeping toward the east. That he was ordained as a knight while covered in blood—replacing a royal commander who'd run away.
Tsk. If that coward hadn't fled, Vikander's name wouldn't have spread so widely.
The Emperor clicked his tongue in regret.
Which made me even greedier.
Until now, the Grand Duke had obediently wandered battlefields as ordered. But now he was a full-grown man of twenty-one. Vikander's reputation was already high within the Empire, and power had begun to gather around him.
I never know when he might try to climb over me. So I have no choice but to put another secure leash on him.
"Still, a knight is bound to have his own lady. I heard the Crown Princess has prepared flowers for you during the upcoming victory banquet."
And if it's the shackles of marriage—that's a bond that will never be lifted.
What if a Grand Duke who looks just like the previous Grand Duchess becomes part of my family? How satisfying would that be?
If the Princess of that ruined country—who ignored me until the very end—could see this from the underworld, wouldn't she vomit blood?
The Emperor grew cheerful at the thought. He lowered his voice, speaking softly as if enticing a child:
"There's some news the Grand Duke would be very happy to hear. The White Crystal Mine of Lowell now belongs to the Crown Princess."
Who would have thought he'd be so obsessed with that White Crystal Mine—received as compensation for his predecessor, Grand Duke Vikander, who disappeared on the battlefield?
Perhaps because he's spent his whole life on battlefields, he's extremely naive.
I've dangled the White Crystal Mine more than twenty times already, but his eyes light up like that every single time.
And it's a mine that's been dry for fifteen years!
The Grand Duke's continued obsession had seemed strange, so the Emperor had searched every nook and cranny of the mine.
Excellent wizards and geologists were dispatched, but the only answer received was a report confirming it was an abandoned mine.
Last year, thinking it would be the final attempt, he'd entrusted the investigation to the Crown Princess.
The Princess—who had grown significantly capable over the past few years—had completely restored even an estate struggling during a spring financial crisis. She'd also thoroughly inspected the White Crystal Mine.
But as expected, the report was the same: the vein had been depleted long ago.
The Emperor had bestowed the abandoned White Crystal Mine upon the Princess for her troubles.
Though it's an abandoned mine with no white crystal production, the Grand Duke has been fighting on battlefields since he was ten years old. He probably just wants to inherit his mother's final legacy because he cares for his parents.
I never had any intention of giving it to him anyway. The plan is simply to use that hope-filled bait as a driving force to keep the Grand Duke moving... forever.
The Emperor laughed in arrogance.
That arrogance clouded the Emperor's vision.
He didn't realize the Grand Duke was looking at him—at the Emperor's laughter—with cold, mocking eyes.
---
And on that day, a rumor spread throughout the Franz Empire.
It was magnificent news—the war against Heferti, in which Grand Duke Vikander had fought, had ended in glorious victory.