Stolen Crown Princess (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 1

It was a desolate night.

Ibelia sat perched on the edge of her bed, staring blankly out the window.

Thick, inky clouds drifted lazily over the piercingly bright full moon. The moonlight seeping through them eerily illuminated the winding ridge just below.

“Huuu….”

Ibelia, who had been silently gazing at the view outside, let out a deep sigh. Though the night was still deep, she couldn’t fall asleep—her insomnia had worsened recently.

Her sleeplessness had begun about a month ago—precisely after she’d lost consciousness from a fever and spent three straight days bedridden before finally rising again.

[“Your fever wouldn’t subside, so we administered various medicinal herbs. The insomnia may be a side effect, but it should be temporary.”]

That was all the royal physician had to say.

He prescribed no medicine to treat her insomnia, nor did he identify its true cause.

Ibelia Caroline was merely a figurehead of an imperial crown princess.

Even if she wandered nightly through deep anguish, there was no physician within the palace who would ease her suffering.

“Ugh… now even my headache is unbearable….”

Ibelia frowned and pressed her fingers to her temples. Lately, her sleep had dwindled drastically, and now severe headaches had begun to plague her.

If only it weren’t so close to dawn, she’d have asked Paleen for headache medicine—but it was far too late for that.

With no other option, she hugged her knees and repeated slow, deep breaths. That was the only thing she could do to lessen the pain.

It took quite a while before she regained composure. Only then did Ibelia weakly lift her head and stare out the window with a pale face.

The stark moonlight seeped densely into her green eyes. The full moon was one of the few things Ibelia truly cherished.

She liked how it radiated bright light, appearing so full of life unlike herself, and because it was the one thing she could gaze upon freely, without needing anyone’s permission.

And the final reason was….

“….”

She bit down gently on her lower lip as someone’s face suddenly flashed in her mind.

Just then—screeeech! An unexpected noise tore sharply through her delicate body.

Startled, Ibelia turned her head toward the sound, her face drained of color—but in the pitch-black darkness, she saw nothing.

“Who’s there?”

Her fear-laced voice sliced sharply through the air. No answer came.

Only the heavy, approaching footsteps, steadily closing the distance, served to amplify her dread.

Ibelia clenched her lower lip tightly and stared fixedly beyond the canopy.

Tension so thick it made breathing difficult stretched taut—until a hazy silhouette emerged from behind the canopy.

Ibelia gripped her nightgown tightly.

“To come to the crown princess’s chamber at this hour—you must have at least two lives.”

“…”

“State your identity at once….”

Just as her tense voice issued the firm command, a gust of wind swept through the window, brushing past the thin fabric—and the once-blurry figure became unmistakably clear.

At that moment, Ibelia could do nothing but freeze completely.

“I’m returning alive from the battlefield—so perhaps I do have two lives.”

Silver hair gleaming as if soaked in moonlight, crimson eyes so vivid they seemed stained with blood, and a voice brimming with coldness.

He was Liurian Petrov—the sole imperial crown prince of the Valterophe Empire and her one and only husband.

“…Liurian?”

Ibelia whispered her husband’s name in a trembling voice. At her reaction, the man crooked a faint smirk and slowly closed the distance, step by step.

Unconsciously, Ibelia swallowed hard. Her heart pounded so violently it felt ready to burst.

He stopped only when he stood directly before her. Then, willingly, he knelt on one knee and looked up at her.

“It’s been a while, Ibelia.”

Gently taking her pale, delicate hand, he pressed his lips to the back of it.

Ibelia could only stare at him with bewildered eyes, unable to utter a word. It was utterly unbelievable.

He—of all people—had kissed her hand and offered a greeting.

“I sent a messenger bird saying I’d arrive at the palace soon. Did you not receive word? Or perhaps…”

“…”

“Could it be you wished for my death on the battlefield?”

His voice was unnervingly languid—hardly what one would expect from someone fresh off the battlefield.

But soon, a clear sneer crept onto his lips, and at that all-too-familiar expression, Ibelia snapped back to her senses.

[“After all, wasn’t it the position of imperial crown princess that you and your family coveted?”] [“I’d prefer if you avoided this path whenever possible. Meeting you is a burden to me.”] [“You’ve inherited your father’s haughtiness perfectly. But there’s no need to put on such a tiresome act even before me—I feel absolutely nothing for you, after all.”]

He had always been like this—blindly despising and loathing her as if she were the daughter of his sworn enemy.

She knew that behind his hostility lay the crude machinations of the empress and her concubine, Lellia—but by then, her heart had already been shredded by countless humiliations and scorn, and Liurian’s prejudice against her had long hardened into unshakable stone.

Against such a man, she could do nothing.

Living only as the empress’s beloved son, he had always watched for the slightest opportunity to oust her from the crown princess’s seat.

That was the man who was her husband.

“…Those are absurd words.”

Instinctively avoiding his gaze, Ibelia barely managed a reply. To think he still brimmed with hostility toward her after a year apart—believing she’d wished for his death in battle.

“Absurd, you say…”

“…”

“Then explain yourself.”

“…”

“If you didn’t wish for my death, why do you look so terrified—as if you’d seen a ghost?”

The sneer that had briefly vanished now reappeared sharply on Liurian’s lips.

Unconsciously, Ibelia’s facial muscles stiffened.

“I was just… a little startled.”

“I already know you were startled. What I want to know is why.”

“…Your Highness is my one and only liege. How could I possibly wish for your death?”

“I asked why you jumped in fright at the sight of me—and you still can’t explain. Could it be you truly hoped I’d never return to the palace?”

He casually uttered words tantamount to a vile accusation. At that moment, Ibelia felt, for the first time in a long while, her heart crumbling inward.

“Hah.”

The breath caught in her throat burst out in a gasp. Pain surged as if her heart had been torn out, and her mind went numb.

Merely facing him again after a year of silence—without a single word from him—was chaos enough for her. She hadn’t yet built the resilience to endure his cruel words. It would be best to end this encounter as quickly as possible.

“It’s late.”

Ibelia requested, in the coldest tone she could muster, that he leave at once.

The Liurian she remembered would have glared at her with twisted fury at such a presumptuous dismissal.

His ruthless demeanor was etched so vividly in her mind it felt branded there.

Eyes brimming with murderous intent, as if enraged he couldn’t kill her himself.

Ibelia waited anxiously for that gaze to fall upon her—but her expectation, even at the cost of pain, was beautifully mistaken.

“Yes, it is late.”

His deeply subdued voice carried a hint of intrigue. At this wholly unexpected reaction, Ibelia’s eyes trembled helplessly.

He had already straightened from his kneeling position and now looked down at her steadily with his striking crimson eyes.

“That’s precisely why I came here—to reclaim some compensation for the tedious year I spent on the battlefield.”

His voice coiled secretly around her ear, chillingly sinister. Ibelia’s pupils dilated with sudden, surging fear as she stared at Liurian.

He slowly bent forward. Simultaneously, Ibelia instinctively shrank back. Undeterred, Liurian followed her onto the bed.

For every inch Liurian advanced, Ibelia crawled backward to keep her distance—but then, as if to prove a point, he closed the gap between them in one swift motion.

Only when she reached a spot with nowhere left to flee did their movements finally cease.

Ibelia looked up at Liurian looming over her, her face ashen.

His eyes, filled with dark intent, raked over her as if devouring her whole.

He let out a sigh, as if amused.

“You’re afraid of me.”

“…”

“Yet according to your own words, I’m your one and only liege.”

His whisper made it clear her claim—that she could never wish for her sole liege’s death—was utterly wrong.

Ibelia’s pale lips trembled faintly, betraying not a trace of falsehood.

He watched her reaction with evident satisfaction—then abruptly rose and stepped down from the bed. Only then did Ibelia finally release the breath she’d been holding.

Liurian waited patiently, as if granting her grace, until her breathing steadied.

After a stretch of silence, her breath finally flowed evenly through her parted lips.

As if he’d been waiting for that moment, his lips moved.

“I won’t be returning to the battlefield for a while. I made sure of that over the past year—neither the Kingdom of Elia nor anyone else will dare challenge the Valterophe Empire again.”

“…”

“So let’s get along well, Ibelia.”

It was a farewell whose meaning she couldn’t decipher.

With a faint, crooked smile at the end of his words, he turned away without a shred of hesitation.