The woman in the green dress, who had been walking with Closette, vanished into the crowd so quickly that I couldn’t get a clear look at her. She wore a mask similar to Closette’s, but the fleeting encounter made it impossible to discern her identity.
Klaus, having slowly approached Closette, glanced toward the direction the woman had disappeared.
“Who was that?”
“Eek! You startled me!”
At the sudden sound of his voice, Closette jumped, clutching her chest and glaring at him. Recovering, she masked her irritation with a blunt expression.
“A young lady I’ve become close with.”
“Which house is she from?”
Closette, clearly not expecting him to pry, sounded momentarily annoyed.
“Since when did you care about my acquaintances? Why the sudden interest?”
Klaus seemed accustomed to her prickly defense. He simply tipped his champagne glass, his gaze lingering on the spot where the woman had vanished.
That was when the hall began to stir. The entrance, previously neglected by a flustered doorman, suddenly drew all eyes.
“The, the sun of Rugvelzet! His Royal Highness Crown Prince Esteban Vandeloup De Rugvelzet and Her Royal Highness Crown Princess Evelionne De Rugvelzet have arrived!”
Klaus and Closette turned in unison.
The elegant Crown Princess Evelionne entered on the arm of Crown Prince Esteban, whose face was etched with deep dissatisfaction. Both wore golden eye masks—a style the Crown Princess had popularized, much like in the original work.
As the royal couple stepped into the hall, the crowd parted, creating a path that led directly to the guests of honor: Closette and Klaus.
When the pair stopped before them, Klaus bowed with stiff, formal courtesy.
“I greet the sun of Rugvelzet. It seems I have caused you both the trouble of making this journey.”
Evelionne met his formality with an elegant smile.
“Closette is like a younger sister to me. Trouble, you say?”
She glanced sideways at the Crown Prince, a silent signal to offer his own pleasantries. But Esteban remained motionless, his gaze fixed on something in the distance, as if spellbound. Klaus followed the Prince’s stare, his own brow furrowing as a memory surfaced.
It was the woman from the tavern. How was she here?
Before the thought could settle, Esteban was already moving toward her.
Roselia stood paralyzed as the Crown Prince approached. The crowd, sensing his path, parted like the Red Sea, leaving her exposed at the end of the corridor. Dozens of eye-masked faces turned toward her, a sea of anonymous, staring holes that sent a chill down her spine.
As she inadvertently took a step back, her eyes locked with Klaus’s. He was watching her with a predatory intensity that made her recoil, forcing her to avert her gaze toward the approaching Prince.
Esteban stopped inches from her, tilting his head to whisper into her ear with a smirk.
“We meet again.”
Roselia’s eyes widened. No way… did he recognize me? We only met that once! And I’m wearing a mask!
As she stood frozen, unable to find a response, Esteban curled his lip and whispered lower.
“I happen to have a very good eye for detail.”
Ignoring her frantic heartbeat, Roselia replied as bluntly as she could.
“I believe you have mistaken me for someone else…”
Esteban pulled back, a grin spreading across his face.
“Is that so?”
The surrounding crowd began to murmur, oblivious to the tension.
“My goodness, is the Crown Prince showing interest in another woman?”
“Who is she? I can’t tell with the mask.”
“To act so boldly with the Crown Princess right there… her dignity is ruined.”
Evelionne’s expression hardened, matching the cold, inscrutable face of Klaus. Closette, meanwhile, watched with intense interest.
Klaus was the most incensed. His brows knit together in inexplicable displeasure—perhaps annoyance at the Prince’s public indiscretion, he told himself, though his glare remained fixed on the Prince and the woman from the tavern.
Unbothered, Esteban looked at Roselia with a relaxed, mocking air. She rolled her eyes in frustration. She couldn’t ignore the Prince, and the audience of nobles made it impossible to flee.
As if enjoying her predicament, the Crown Prince sneered.
“Fine. Whatever your identity is, let’s put that aside. If you cooperate with me for a moment, I promise I’ll let you go unscathed.”
Roselia looked up at him, startled.
“Just dance the first dance with me.”
The Crown Prince’s gaze flickered toward the Crown Princess. That was when the scheme clicked into place.
This psycho Crown Prince!
He was using her to humiliate his wife. And she had the misfortune of catching his eye. Truly a man who would regret his arrogance; she wondered how much he would have to grovel to the heroine later for this stunt.
Just as she wrinkled her nose in disgust, about to refuse, she saw Klaus approaching with terrifying momentum.
She drew a sharp breath and instinctively grasped the hand the Crown Prince had extended.
“Good choice.”
With a mischievous smile, Esteban led her into the center of the ballroom, parading her before the Crown Princess. Klaus was left standing there, watching them like a dog that had lost its quarry.
As the Prince’s hand wrapped around her waist, Roselia spoke in a clipped, low tone.
“You’re being quite cruel.”
Esteban’s gaze turned to her, intrigued.
“You’re doing this just to trouble Her Royal Highness.”
He pulled her waist tighter, his smirk deepening.
“You’re quite sharp.”
The moment their eyes met, Roselia swallowed hard.
“I don’t know what you mean…”
She tried to maintain a facade of calm, but Esteban looked through her with unsettling ease. His hand slid down to grip her wrist—the same move he had used at the Imperial Palace to stop her.
“I thought your wrist was exceptionally thin.”
He looked into her eyes with a meaningful smile. Roselia yanked her arm away, but he didn’t seem fazed, continuing to lead the dance with fluid grace. He glanced toward the sidelines. Klaus stood there, his expression frozen into a mask of pure, murderous rage.
Watching this, the Crown Prince chuckled.
“The Duke of Baltezar doesn’t seem to know yet, does he?”
When Roselia remained silent, Esteban took it as confirmation.
“Somehow, we’ve come to share a secret.”
Roselia glared at him.
“I don’t know any of your secrets, Your Highness.”
“Don’t you know that the relationship between the Crown Princess and me is strained? That is a secret important enough to concern the safety of the Imperial family.”
Roselia scoffed.
“It seems to me that everyone has already found out, the moment you dragged me onto this floor.”
Esteban smiled.
“No, that’s not enough.”
He suddenly pulled her waist in, bringing his face so close their lips almost touched. It was a calculated pose, designed to make the onlookers believe they had kissed.
He lifted his head, his golden eyes dancing with mischief.
“Only this will make it clear to everyone.”
The room erupted into a noisy stir of gasps and whispers. Roselia felt the weight of the collective shock. Across the floor, Evelionne stood perfectly still, struggling to suppress the tremors of her humiliation. Seeing her standing there like a statue—determined not to let her husband’s cruelty break her—Roselia felt a sharp pang of guilt.
The Crown Prince, however, merely stared at the Crown Princess with a triumphant smirk.
Dammit! If you’re going to have a lovers’ quarrel, do it in private! Why drag me into your mess?
Barely suppressing the urge to poke out his arrogant eyes, Roselia gritted her teeth. Then, she caught Klaus’s gaze again. He was staring at them with a look of such concentrated hostility that she couldn’t tell if it was for the Prince or for her.
Feeling unfairly targeted, Roselia glared at the Prince. He just shrugged.
“I won’t forget this debt, Antonio.”
Roselia hissed, scanning the room to ensure they weren’t overheard.
“It is Roselia now.”
“Hmm, that name isn’t bad either. Yes, Roselia. But…”
Esteban paused, his smile widening as he looked behind her.
“It seems the Duke has something to say to you.”
Roselia turned, and her heart sank. Like an enraged rhinoceros, Klaus was cutting through the dancing crowd, heading straight for her.