How on earth had it come to this?

 

“Ah… trying to run away now?”

 

Renata stared up at her boss standing right in front of her, dazed and breathless.

 

The lazily arched brows, the mouth curled upward in effortless amusement, those eyes gleaming with dark, unmistakable interest—they were the exact same features she had always known.

 

And yet… everything felt utterly different.

 

Tilting his head slightly to the side, the man exuded a dangerously seductive aura today, one that made her heart stutter. 

 

A faint, predatory smile curved his lips.

 

“You really ought to think this through carefully, Renata.”

 

Only then did the truth crash over her like icy water.

 

“Do you honestly believe I’d let you go so easily?”

 

All those years of him acting like a spoiled, petulant child—whining, sulking, driving everyone around him to the brink—had been nothing but a perfect, deliberate mask.

 

She should have quit this damned aide position two days ago. No—months ago.

 

🫧

 

He was the kind of man who could melt the hearts of countless noble ladies with one innocent, guileless gaze paired with that wickedly charming, sinful smile.

 

When he looked at someone he truly loved, those deep blue eyes sparkled fresh and vivid, like the endless summer sky after rain.

 

And his silver hair—flowing, shimmering silver—caught every whisper of wind and glowed with ethereal light.

 

The Second Prince of the Neisan Kingdom, Theodore Helmut Neisan, was flawless in appearance, without a single imperfection to mar him.

 

For days now, he had barricaded himself inside his bedroom and refused to emerge.

 

The reason was painfully obvious.

 

A week earlier, Ailet Brenman—his longtime friend and first love—had publicly announced her engagement to the Crown Prince.

 

Upon hearing the news, Theodore had worn his usual flawless, hypocritical mask. 

 

He’d approached his older brother with the softest, most gracious smile, offering congratulations and wishing them every happiness.

 

And then… he had collapsed into this state.

 

‘How long is he planning to stay locked away like this?’

 

At this rate, wasn’t it practically a public declaration of his agonizing, unrequited love?

 

As Theodore Helmut Neisan’s closest confidant and personal aide, Renata stood once again before the door to the Second Prince’s bedroom. She drew several deep, steadying breaths, steeling herself.

 

Finally, with grim determination, she knocked—sharply, insistently.

 

The moment her knuckles struck the wood, something heavy crashed against the other side with a dull thud.

 

“How many more times do I have to say it? Do not come looking for me until I decide to come out myself!”

 

Ah… today his mood is especially foul.

 

For a common-born woman to secure employment—let alone rise to the exalted position of personal aide to a prince—was extraordinary in every sense.

 

And so, naturally, Renata had become something close to a living miracle, endlessly capable, unflappably competent, a true all-rounder.

 

But what truly set her apart—what left even the palace staff gaping in disbelief—was that she had survived three full months under the unrelenting storm of Theodore’s infamous temper.

 

A spoiled, razor-tongued brat—excuse me, a prince—so prickly that even passing servants flinched at the mere sight of him, and yet she had stayed glued to his side day after day for an entire season.

 

His previous aides had lasted anywhere from half a day to—at the absolute most—one miserable month.

 

By comparison, Renata was nothing short of a prodigy.

 

More astonishing still, ever since she took the position, Theodore had visibly mellowed.

 

The royal family regarded her as nothing less than a divine gift they could never afford to lose.

 

Renata herself, however, felt no such gratitude. She pounded the door harder this time, voice bright and deliberately cheerful.

 

“Your Highness! It’s Renata!”

 

A flurry of movement sounded from within—then abrupt, heavy silence.

 

“You can’t keep putting off your duties any longer!”

 

‘Please, just come out and do something! Or at least sign the damn papers! You have to attend this year’s hunting festival…!’

 

The truth was, Renata carried a secret so dangerous she could never breathe a word of it to anyone.

 

She was no ordinary commoner.

 

She was the hidden noble daughter of the esteemed Count Heinsbrun family—and an alchemist gifted with the rare ability to transmute the raw elements into pure magical power.

 

Her parents had never fully explained why.

 

All she knew was that, to conceal the ancient power that ran through their bloodline, she had been forced to abandon the secluded, aristocratic life of her childhood manor and live as a commoner from a very young age.

 

Life among the common folk had been peaceful. Simple. Safe.

 

Until now.

 

There had been inconveniences, of course—constantly moving from place to place, forever concealing her true identity—but her parents had always shielded their two daughters from want. 

 

Under their careful protection, Renata had grown up without fear, without hunger, wrapped in quiet safety.

 

The trouble began only a few years ago, when her parents were suddenly taken in a tragic accident.

 

“I’m afraid this is as far as my skill can take us, child. Seek out a more capable physician. It will cost more, naturally…”

 

Her younger sister had been frail since birth. 

 

Then, without warning, an unnamed illness took root inside her—silent, merciless, impossible to name.

 

No matter how much money they poured into physicians, rare herbs, experimental treatments—nothing could do more than slow its cruel advance.

 

Day by day her sister weakened. 

 

Month by month the last remnants of their parents’ modest fortune dwindled to nothing.

 

At just sixteen years old, Renata found herself thrust forward as the head of what remained of their broken family.

 

Her father, perhaps sensing such a day would come, had long ago subjected her to rigorous, almost merciless training as his heir.

 

Thanks to those lessons, she had turned her hidden gifts into survival, clerical assistant for a small merchant caravan, aide to minor local nobles, and anything else that paid decently for a supposed commoner.

 

She had managed—barely.

 

But her sister’s medical expenses grew like a living thing, swelling relentlessly. 

 

By the end of last year, even Renata’s tireless earnings could no longer keep pace.

 

Then came the day she visited a job broker in search of side work—and overheard a whisper that stopped her heart.

 

“They say the position of personal aide to the Second Prince has opened up… though, well… it’s a bit…”

 

A spoiled, pleasure-loving wastrel.

 

A notorious libertine shamelessly pursuing the woman destined to become his brother’s fiancée.

 

The Empire’s most infamous rogue, the scandal magnet of high society, the golden-haired troublemaker whose name was on every tongue, Theodore Helmut Neisan, Second Prince.

 

Even in her carefully disguised commoner life, his reputation had reached her ears like wildfire.

 

And now—he was hiring an aide.

 

“The pay is ten gold a week… with room and board provided?”

 

Renata’s pulse roared in her ears.

 

“I’ll do it!” she blurted before the broker could finish listing the warnings.

 

Ten gold a week.

 

A salary that could keep her sister alive.

 

She would face the devil himself if it meant saving the only family she had left.

 

And so, with desperation burning brighter than fear, Renata stepped willingly into the storm that was Prince Theodore.

 

“Hey, wait—let me finish! A salary that obscene doesn’t come without strings attached!”

 

Ten gold a week. Forty a month.

 

With that kind of money, she could cover her sister’s medicine with plenty left over—enough to save, even. 

 

A few years of steady work and she could buy a quiet, comfortable house for the two of them.

 

And moving closer to the capital would make finding a truly skilled physician so much easier.

 

There was literally no reason not to apply.

 

“Don’t worry—I can handle anything! So… how exactly do I become His Highness’s aide?”

 

A position that paid handsomely and granted free access to the royal palace?

 

Surely the competition must have been brutal?

 

As if.

 

No résumé. No interview.

 

Just her name, age, and an address where they could send correspondence. That was it.

 

Two months later, when the letter finally arrived confirming her appointment as aide to the Second Prince—when the broker had practically begged her to reconsider—she should have known.

 

“I’m coming in if you don’t answer!”

 

“Come in, then—if you think you can handle it.”

 

The instant her fingers closed around the doorknob, his voice slid through the wood again, low and deliberately provocative.

 

“I just finished bathing. Right now there isn’t a single thread on me.”

 

Most people would take that as a very clear warning to stay out.

 

Instead he drawled, “Hurry up and open it. I’m fully prepared to show you… everything.”

 

“…Five minutes. Give me five minutes.”

 

“Ah. How disappointing.”

 

A short, theatrical sigh.

 

Then the rustle of hurried movement behind the door—fabric sliding over skin, the soft thump of something being tossed aside.

 

He was dressing. Probably.

 

Renata exhaled slowly, letting the muffled sounds fade into the background as her mind drifted back to how she had ended up here.

 

To the day she had found her father’s letter.

 

“You were up working late again last night? Look at this mountain of paperwork on your desk…”

 

“All of this needs my seal? Ugh… want to give it a try?”

 

“Here—like this. Press the seal down firmly. Wait—no, take the stamp. From now on, you handle all the approvals yourself.”

 

Her father’s voice had been calm, almost casual, as though he were merely handing over a minor chore.

 

But the weight in his eyes that day had told her everything.

 

He had known.

 

Known that one day she would have to carry far more than ink and parchment.

 

And now here she stood—outside the bedroom door of the Empire’s most notorious prince, heart hammering, cheeks faintly warm despite herself—because of a salary, a sick sister, and one reckless, desperate “I’ll do it.”

 

The door still loomed before her.

 

Five minutes.

 

She pressed her forehead lightly against the cool wood and closed her eyes.

 

Just five more minutes… before she stepped fully into the storm she had chosen.

 

Overwork was the bare minimum.

 

Her so-called superior spent every other day grinding her nerves raw with careless, cutting remarks, and whenever he inevitably caused yet another scandal, it fell to Renata—always Renata—to sweep up the wreckage before the palace gossip could swallow them whole.

 

If this hellish routine continued much longer, in a few short years she wouldn’t be buying a house for her and her sister.

 

She’d be buying her own coffin.

 

After long, sleepless nights of deliberation, Renata finally resolved to draft her letter of resignation. She pulled out her diary to begin the outline—and that was when she found it.

 

Pressed tightly between two pages that had fused together from disuse lay a single hidden letter, written in her father’s unmistakable, elegant hand.

 

〈Marex,

 

You must save us—even if only to atone.

 

Remember this always, you alone hold the power to lift the curse from me and my daughter.

 

Do not forget.〉

 

For some time now, her father had grown so frail that even simple work exhausted him. 

 

Sunlight scorched his skin like fire.

 

He had brushed it off as a minor ailment—“Nothing serious, really”—and promised over and over that “someone” would soon arrive to fix everything. No need to worry.

 

But Renata knew better.

 

The symptoms were identical to those ravaging her little sister.

 

Whatever afflicted them both was no trifling illness.

 

It was something darker. Deeper. A curse in truth.

 

And yet… someone existed who could cure it.

 

For one searing moment, Renata burned with resentment toward her father—why hadn’t he sought this person out sooner? Why had he let himself and her sister suffer when salvation was within reach?

 

Then understanding crashed over her like cold rain.

 

He hadn’t been able—or perhaps hadn’t been allowed—to seek help.

 

The letter trembled faintly in her fingers as the pieces began to fall into place.

 

A hidden power in her bloodline.

 

A childhood spent disguised as a commoner.

 

The relentless, unnamed sickness that had claimed both parents and now gnawed at her sister.

 

And now this name—Marex—someone bound by debt, by guilt, by some ancient obligation to break the curse that bound their family.

 

Renata’s breath caught.

 

If this person truly held the key to saving her sister… to freeing them all…

 

Then perhaps quitting her position—fleeing the suffocating orbit of Prince Theodore—was no longer an option.

 

Perhaps fate had already locked her in place.

 

Right here.

 

Right beside the one man whose every careless word, every lazy glance, every brush of proximity set her nerves alight in ways she refused to name.

 

She closed the diary slowly, heart pounding with something far more dangerous than fear.

 

Resignation could wait.

 

There were curses to break—and answers that might lie closer than she ever dared imagine.

 

Marex.

 

The Master of the Magic Tower.

 

For decades he had sealed the tower against all outsiders, retreating into utter seclusion—never once showing his face beyond its shadowed walls.

 

There was simply no way to reach him.

 

Renata carried on with her duties in quiet, heavy despair. She had already begun drafting her resignation once more when a new official missive crossed her desk, preparations for the royal hunting festival, to be held one month from now.

 

This time, something was different.

 

The message stated—in stark, unmistakable terms—that the Master of the Magic Tower had, for the first time in living memory, expressed his intent to participate.

 

The royal family strongly urged every member to attend.

 

That was why Renata had never submitted her letter of resignation.

 

If she simply remained as the Second Prince’s aide… if she endured just a little longer… then at the hunting festival, when Marex appeared among the guests, she could approach him.

 

She could speak his name.

 

She could plead for her sister’s life—beg him to break the curse that was slowly devouring everything she loved.

 

Renata slipped the small leather pouch at her waist open and drew out her pocket watch.

 

Tick.

 

Tick.

 

Five minutes had passed.

 

She rapped sharply on the door—once, twice, three times—then turned the handle and pushed it wide.

 

Through the widening gap emerged eyes the deep, crystalline blue of masterfully cut sapphires… yet carrying an eerie, piercing chill that made her breath catch.

 

Then those eyes softened.

 

Warmed.

 

Curved into the most disarmingly beautiful crescent of a smile.

 

Renata slammed the door shut on pure instinct. She had convinced herself she was immune to his beauty—his lazy charm, his devastating smiles, the way he could unravel anyone with a single glance.

 

Apparently not.

 

Heart hammering against her ribs, she pressed one palm to the wood, forcing herself to breathe, to steady the sudden heat flooding her cheeks.

 

A heartbeat later, the door was pulled open from the inside.

 

Theodore stood there—half-dressed, silver hair still damp from his bath, white shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, sleeves carelessly rolled to his elbows.

 

The faint scent of clean soap and warm skin drifted toward her.

 

He tilted his head, that same maddening smile lingering at the corners of his mouth.

 

“Changed your mind already?” 

 

He murmured, voice low, velvet-edged, and far too intimate for the narrow space between them.

 

“Or did you just want a better look?”

 

Renata swallowed hard.

 

She had come here for her sister.

 

For a cure.

 

For a future that didn’t end in grief.

 

But right now—standing inches from the golden prince whose every careless word and lingering gaze set her pulse racing—she felt the dangerous, undeniable pull of something else entirely.

 

Something reckless.

 

Something forbidden.

 

Something that had nothing to do with duty, survival, or curses…

 

…and everything to do with the way his eyes refused to leave hers.