“Will Your Highness truly marry such trash?”

It was a much more aggressive statement than expected. Layla was surprised and glanced around once more. Although they were in the middle of the garden, the banquet was still in full swing, so there weren’t too many people around.

However, it wasn’t completely deserted either. Layla spotted a few people scattered near the entrance of the banquet hall and across the wide garden, so she lowered her voice.

“I was very grateful for your kindness last time.”

Even as Layla said this, she wasn’t sure if it was truly ‘kindness’. Wasn’t Lord Millay’s intervention in that situation purely coincidental?

But now was not the time to quibble over such minor details.

“Since you’re from the Empire, I’ll speak freely out of gladness to meet you. Isn’t Lord Millay here to interact with the princes on behalf of your country?”

“That is correct, Your Highness.”

Lord Millay tilted his head slightly, as if to say it was an obvious question.

“Even in private, I am the fiancée of this country’s 7th prince. When we marry, I’ll become a member of the Filmer family.”

“…”

As she spoke, Layla felt a sense of discomfort with her own words.

The fiancée of Reynold. A member of the Filmer family. These were two positions she hadn’t chosen for herself. Didn’t she even think that Reynold was frightening?

Lord Millay must have read her feelings. That’s why he asked if she was really going to marry him.

Indeed, his gaze as he stared at her was filled with questioning.

Layla felt bitter as she added another question.

“Wasn’t your statement just now disrespectful to me as well?”

“…”

“I’d like an apology.”

Layla looked directly at Lord Millay. The man, who was still at least a head taller than her, simply looked down at Layla silently, his thoughts unreadable.

Was that look in his eyes pity?

Or was it mockery directed at a foolish woman?

The answer was soon decided.

“I did not intend to disrespect you, Your Highness. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

The emotion contained within was contempt towards Reynold.

Lord Millay moved closer to Layla. The next moment, Layla flinched.

His large hand rose to cup one of Layla’s cheeks.

But unlike his warm hand, Lord Millay’s bright blue irises held a coldness even chillier than their color.

“I’ve traveled to many countries and met all sorts of people. Among them, of course, there were some who were impeccably admirable.”

“What are you trying to say, my lord?”

“I want to argue that I’m not someone who only sees the world in a twisted way.”

“…”

The implication was that even to his eyes, Reynold was garbage not worth associating with. Layla understood his meaning and was at a loss for how to respond, feeling awkward.

“Surely Your Highness isn’t dreaming of a future where unhappiness is predetermined?”

As he spoke, he lifted her chin. A familiar gesture. Though he was using honorifics, Lord Millay’s attitude was decidedly overbearing.

As if it was natural for him to reign over others.

Was he a high-ranking noble? Given that he was dealing with foreign princes, it was possible. Though Layla hadn’t seen him when she lived in the Empire, it had been quite some time since she left Hankin, so the internal landscape could have changed significantly.

Perhaps because of this thought, even though Lord Millay’s gesture was quite rude, Layla found it difficult to coldly reject him.

Meanwhile, Lord Millay pressed Layla further with his questions.

“Why is that?”

Layla gently grasped Lord Millay’s wrist to push it away, trying to avoid the uncomfortable topic.

“Lord Millay, perhaps we should step apart…”

It was as she turned her gaze elsewhere that she saw it. At the end of her line of sight was a familiar face. It was Reynold, who had slipped out of the banquet hall.

She didn’t know how long he had been there, but he was standing at one side of the wide terrace, watching them. The woman he had been dancing with inside was clinging to his arm, but when his eyes met Layla’s, he withdrew his arm as if annoyed, and the woman went back inside.

Seeing this, Layla felt her heart sink.

She hadn’t noticed him until now because her back had been turned, but it was different for Lord Millay. He had been positioned directly in front of Reynold, so there was no way he could have missed him if his eyes were working properly.

A crease formed between Layla’s delicate brows. Stepping back a few paces from Lord Millay to put some distance between them, she asked in a sharp tone.

“Lord Millay, were you toying with me?”

“…”

“I’m not sure who’s calling who trash anymore.”

After delivering this rebuke, implying that he was no better, Layla turned on her heel. She was about to grab her dress and hurry along the path before her when she heard a resolute voice from behind.

“Run away.”

It was a moment when she absolutely should not have wavered, but Layla faltered.

Run away.

That sudden word caught her ankle, metaphorically speaking.

Layla turned her head.

When their eyes met, he spoke her name.

“Layla Wessex, Princess.”

Rudely, without even using honorifics.

But hearing her own name from between those thin lips made her eyes waver.

The voice of a boy who used to call her that, from long ago, naturally came to mind. Back then, that child had said such things.

That it was like the name of a flower.

That it was such a beautiful name.

And that smiling face looked like the sun to Layla’s eyes.

Standing in the greenhouse of the imperial palace full of flower fragrance in Hankin, which was once her home country, Layla felt her heart swell as she watched the sunlight pouring down on his head.

‘It’s clearly different from then.’

The person, the situation, the location, even the time.

And yet, his appearance in the yellow light leaking from the building suddenly reminded her of someone.

However.

“If you need help, I’ll extend my hand to you.”

He, Adrian Pinter Raines, is not someone who would say such things to her.

Thanks to that, reality hit her hard. As if waking up from a momentary dream, Layla refocused her wavering eyes.

And once again, avoiding his gaze, she said only one thing.

“You’re talking nonsense, my lord.”

“Why is it nonsense?”

Layla’s hand gripping her dress tightened even more.

“…Because I am the princess of Wessex.”

It was something she had been repeating to herself inwardly ever since her marriage to the 7th prince of the Filmer Kingdom was decided.

In truth, from Layla’s personal perspective, there were plenty of reasons to avoid this marriage.

An unwanted marriage, a position with a gloomy future.

And after coming here, one more was added.

A future where she would never receive her husband’s love.

But there was also a reason why she couldn’t walk away from this position.

“I can’t make decisions just for myself. Even if, as you say, it’s a path leading to a ‘future where unhappiness is predetermined’, if my country wishes to walk that path, then I must do so. That is my duty as a princess.”

Did her words sound trivial to him? Lord Millay’s voice was mixed with a snort.

“Marrying into a country on the brink of collapse is for the sake of one’s country, is it.”

It was a mutter clearly meant for her to hear. Despite it being truly insulting, she couldn’t get angry.

Because she herself thought the same way.

Layla’s eyes sank into darkness.

“That’s all I’m capable of holding in my vessel.”

“…”

“I know my place.”

Wessex is a small country that seems like it could collapse at any moment. Among them, Layla, the fifth daughter of the king who didn’t properly inherit the abilities passed down through generations in the family, always grew up as the black sheep.

Princess Layla Wessex was, even in her own opinion, truly a useless existence.

The only place where someone like her could be of use was in a position like this. The unloved wife of the seventh prince of a country on the edge of the continent.

Though she could do almost nothing, as long as she was here, Wessex and Filmer would, at least outwardly, coexist peacefully.

Wasn’t that quite an excellent role for someone as insignificant as herself?

Having organized her thoughts, Layla moved her feet. It was truly time to return to her place.

From afar, Reynold was watching her quite persistently as she stood with Lord Millay. As if to remind her of her duty as a fiancée who should be by his side.

But Lord Millay, who had approached from behind, gently grasped her shoulder to stop her steps.

“Then may I find out just how much that ‘place’ of yours is worth?”

As he said this, Lord Millay’s eyes turned towards Reynold.

“It seems to be at least enough to make that fellow beg and plead.”