Chapter Fifteen:
My breath quickened, and my heart nearly leaped out of my chest.
I felt the air leave my lungs for a moment before I managed to grasp my knees, trying to catch my breath.
Slowly, I lifted my head—only to find him standing before me. That blond man with cold features and eyes that gleamed with cunning intelligence.
Kyle stood there, observing me with questioning eyes, before a faint smile curled on his lips, as if he had enjoyed watching me tremble in fear.
"Oh my God, Arwa! You nearly scared me!" he said lazily, despite the fact that I was the one who had almost dropped dead from fright.
He extended his hand to help me up, but I ignored it, believing I could regain my balance on my own.
He then tilted his head slightly and added, "You were the one who bumped into me. You should have been more careful.
What are you doing, wandering alone in a mansion this big, in the middle of the night?"
I swallowed hard before mumbling nervously…
Trying to avoid his gaze, which seemed to pierce into my very soul, I mumbled,
"I was feeling bored, so I decided to take a short walk."
Kyle slowly raised an eyebrow, as if he wasn't entirely convinced by my words. Then, placing a hand on his chin in thought, he smiled faintly, as if he had just figured something out.
"So, you didn't run away from my mother, then. I suppose she didn't stop talking, did she?"
I hesitated for a moment but forced a nervous smile.
"Aunt Sara was busy talking to my father on the landline, so I left her to speak at her leisure."
A brief silence passed before Kyle let out a lazy sigh and nodded toward the long hallway behind me.
"Well, it's late. Go back to your room—for your own good."
I smiled awkwardly and quickly turned on my heel to leave before I could do something foolish again. But just as I reached the first step of the staircase, I half-turned back and whispered in a nearly childlike voice,
"Good night, Kyle."
The moment I realized what I had just said, I froze for a second before fleeing as if I had committed a crime, trying to bury my embarrassment beneath my hurried steps.
Oh God, how could I have said that?
How could I be so bold? Kyle was eleven years older than me—I couldn't just call him that, as if we were close!
Meanwhile, Kyle remained where he was, staring at the empty space where I had stood just moments ago.
Then, slowly, his gaze shifted toward the window overlooking the moonlit garden. A cold breeze swept through the room, prompting him to lift a hand and run his fingers through his hair in a dynamic motion—not just to fix it, but as if he were trying to sort out his thoughts as well.
He knew exactly what his mother was trying to do.
Sara wasn't the type to give up easily, and Kyle wasn't oblivious to her schemes—she wanted to marry him off, sooner or later. And to her, there was no better candidate than Arwa, the girl who had entered their lives like a missing piece of an unsolved puzzle.
Kyle exhaled, retrieving a cigar from the silver case on the table. He lit it calmly before murmuring to himself in a quiet voice, unsure if he was speaking to himself or to the silent moon above.
"Mother… what kind of trouble are you trying to drag me into this time?"
He took a deep breath, then added, as if reassuring himself before reassuring anyone else,
"Arwa is still young. I'll try to convince my mother to give up on this idea."
But deep down, he knew it wouldn't be that easy.
The Next Morning
The phone rang beside my bed. Lazily, I pulled my hand out from beneath the heavy blankets, picking up the receiver with half-open eyes as I rubbed them sluggishly.
"Good morning, Mom…" I mumbled sleepily.
But the serious tone that came from the other end of the line made me snap awake instantly.
"Arwa, listen to me carefully."
My mother's voice was firm—uncharacteristically so.
A slight tightness settled in my chest.
"Mom, what's wrong? It's so early… Did something happen?"
She responded quickly, as if afraid I would hang up before she could finish.
"You will be attending your first social event today with Lady Sara. This will mark your official introduction into this world."
I froze for a moment—I wasn't ready for this!
Sure, I had lived in this story, but I had never once considered becoming part of this extravagant, appearance-driven world.
My mother continued, her tone filled with concern.
"Listen to me carefully, my dear. Be mindful of everything. Don't drink anything unless you know what it is. And be careful with your words and actions."
I exhaled slowly, trying to ease her worry.
"Mom, don't worry. I'll be fine. I'm not stupid—I know how to behave."
Then, despite my lingering nervousness, I smiled lightly.
"Really, Mom. Don't worry about me."
After the call, it didn't take long before the maids knocked on my door, entering with everything necessary to transform me into a proper aristocratic lady, one fit for high-society gatherings.
I furrowed my brows as I watched them, then asked slowly,
"Do I really have to go?"
But they didn't answer. They simply got to work immediately.
Two Hours of Preparation Later
I let out a tired sigh when everything was finally done.
"This is more exhausting than I imagined," I muttered, lifting my hands to inspect my appearance.
When I stood in front of the mirror, I felt like I was looking at someone else.
My hair had been elegantly tied back into a sleek ponytail, highlighting my features clearly. The dress was a masterpiece in itself—a long, olive-green gown with delicate, refined details. The fabric shimmered subtly, catching the light in a way that made it look like flowing silk. With a pair of mid-heeled shoes, everything came together in perfect harmony.
Unconsciously, I smiled softly. I truly looked… beautiful.
At the Entrance of the Mansion
As I stepped forward toward Aunt Sara, I saw her standing gracefully at the foot of the grand staircase.
She was wearing a dress suited for her age, yet it carried an undeniable charm. The jewelry adorning her neck and ears gleamed under the mansion's opulent lights, making her look like a figure straight out of a classical painting.
She smiled warmly as she observed me, then extended her hand gently to take mine, her voice laced with a hint of pride.
"My dear, Arwa… You look absolutely stunning—like a true princess."
A faint warmth crept up my cheeks as I replied modestly,
"Thank you, Aunt. You're too kind. But… if it weren't for your exquisite choice of dress, I wouldn't have looked this elegant."
Sara chuckled softly before placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.
"Well then, my dear, let's go. The ball awaits us."
It was in that moment that I realized—I was about to step into a completely different world.
A world filled with appearances, secrets, and schemes.
A world whose rules I would have to master… sooner or later.
The grand hall shimmered under the glow of countless candles, their flames reflecting off the colossal crystal chandelier that hung from the towering ceiling. The polished marble floor glistened, as if encrusted with precious gems, while the refined notes of classical music filled the air, played by an elegant orchestra that only heightened the sense of opulence.
When I stepped onto the ballroom floor for the first time, I felt as though I had entered a world that did not belong to me. The ladies moved gracefully in their long gowns, the fabric swaying with their every motion, while jewels sparkled on their necks and hands. As for the men, their tailored suits spoke of wealth and aristocracy, each stitch a testament to their status.
The conversations around me were quiet and composed, yet I felt as if I could hear an undercurrent of crashing waves beneath the surface of this deceptive tranquility. Everyone here was watching. Everyone here was speaking in a language that went beyond mere words.
"Are you nervous?"
I flinched slightly at the soft whisper beside me, only to find Sara smiling at me reassuringly.
"Don't worry, my dear. Just be yourself. But… don't trust anyone too easily."
A faint tightness gripped my chest, but I nodded silently, my gaze continuing to scan the room.
Then, as if sensing his presence before even seeing him, I turned—
And there he was.
Kyle
Standing in grand events was something I had grown accustomed to since childhood. But it was never something I particularly enjoyed.
I knew the rules of this game well. I understood that everyone here smiled and exchanged pleasantries, all while hiding their daggers behind their backs.
And yet, despite that—
When I saw her… everything stopped for a moment.
She stood beneath the golden lights, her olive-green dress embracing her slender frame with effortless elegance, while the shimmering glow of the hall reflected off her perfectly styled hair.
But there was something different about her tonight.
It wasn't just her beauty.
It was something deeper.
A presence that commanded attention.
I found myself staring at her.
And I wasn't the only one.
The eyes of many men had gravitated toward her, their expressions ranging from admiration to something more calculative. Even the women watched her, evaluating.
A strange, uneasy feeling stirred within me.
Something akin to—danger.
"Is something wrong, Kyle?"
My mother's voice pulled me from my thoughts. She was watching me carefully, as if she had noticed my shift in demeanor.
"It's nothing," I murmured.
But my eyes never left Arwa.
As I moved through the ballroom with Aunt Sara, I could feel eyes on me.
Some gazes were warm, others scrutinizing.
But none were more intense than that pair of piercing green eyes.
Kyle.
He stood beside Lady Sara, clad in a meticulously tailored black suit that emphasized the broadness of his shoulders and the commanding aura he carried. His elegant tie only added to his undeniable charm, and the soft glow of the chandeliers reflected off his ash-blond hair, making him look as if he had been sculpted from light and gold.
But what unsettled me was not his appearance—
It was his gaze.
Unlike the others, he wasn't assessing me.
He was watching me.
Cautiously.
As if sensing a threat.
But why?
Before I could contemplate further, the air was suddenly filled with a strong, authoritative voice:
"His Majesty, Emperor Leo Strathmore, and Crown Prince Ethan."
In an instant, the entire atmosphere of the ballroom changed.
Whispers rose. Movements ceased. The crowd instinctively straightened, their postures refined and poised, as all attention shifted toward the grand entrance.
And then, he entered.
Emperor Leo Strathmore.
His presence was commanding—tall, broad-shouldered, exuding an aura of absolute power. His golden hair was neatly swept back, and his piercing ice-blue eyes scanned the room with a sharp, evaluating gaze.
He bore a striking resemblance to Uncle Denis.
Beside him stood a younger man—so eerily similar, yet undeniably different.
Ethan Lithdora Strathmore. The Crown Prince.
His skin was smooth, his features carrying a youthful innocence. Yet, even in that apparent purity, there was a quiet strength in the way he held himself.
And when our eyes met—
There was something there.
A flicker of interest.
Or perhaps… admiration?
Kyle
A faint tension coursed through me the moment the Emperor entered.
Dealing with him was never easy.
And despite the fact that he was my uncle, his presence always carried a weight that few could ignore.
But what truly unsettled me—
Was Ethan.
I had seen the way he looked at Arwa.
It wasn't a fleeting glance.
It was something deeper.
And in the world of politics, interest could be the deadliest weapon of all.
"It seems your ball is particularly interesting this time, isn't it?"
The Emperor's deep voice resonated through the room as he strode toward my mother, who bowed respectfully in greeting.
"It is an honor to have Your Majesty with us," my mother responded graciously, while Ethan stepped forward, his gaze still fixed on Arwa.
"It seems there is a new face among us," he said, his voice calm, yet carrying a distinct note of interest.
Then, before I could even process what was happening, he was already standing directly in front of Arwa, extending his hand to her with a faint smile.
"I'm Ethan. It's a pleasure to meet you."
(Arwa's Perspective)
A slight dryness crept into my throat, but I managed to smile as I extended my hand to shake his, replying steadily,
"I'm Arwa. It's an honor to meet you, Your Highness."
There was something in his eyes—something that made me feel as if I was dealing with someone who knew exactly how to read others.
But before the conversation could go any further, I sensed a shadow beside me.
Kyle.
He wasn't smiling.
He wasn't speaking.
But he was standing there in a way that left no room for misinterpretation.
As if to say: "Step away from her."
(Kyle's Perspective)
A wave of irritation coursed through me.
I had no personal issue with Ethan.
But the idea of him getting close to Arwa—
I didn't like it.
Something in my gut screamed that tonight wouldn't be an ordinary night.
And suddenly—
A sharp cry echoed from one side of the ballroom.
Everyone turned swiftly, only to see one of the servants collapse to the floor, while a masked figure loomed over him, gripping a gleaming knife.
In an instant, chaos erupted.
And I knew—without a doubt—Arwa was at the heart of the danger.
I had to act. Fast.