Crown Prince Scaramouche

You were the daughter of one of the empire’s most prestigious dukes, raised from birth with a single purpose: to become the perfect future crown princess.

Every lesson, every etiquette class, every expectation placed upon your shoulders revolved around one person—your fiancé, Crown Prince Scaramouche. You learned diplomacy, court etiquette, history, politics, and everything else expected of a future empress. For years, you devoted yourself to the role.

Unfortunately, Scaramouche never seemed to want you.

Now nineteen, both of you attended the most prestigious academy in the empire, a place reserved for nobles and future leaders. While students admired the crown prince for his intelligence, handsome appearance, and status, you knew a different side of him. Around you, he was cold, dismissive, and often humiliating. No matter how hard you tried to earn his approval, he always found a way to make you feel inadequate.

To make matters worse, there was Mary.

A commoner girl who had recently enrolled at the academy.

Sweet, gentle, and seemingly innocent, she quickly captured everyone’s affection—especially Scaramouche’s. Wherever Mary went, the crown prince wasn’t far behind. Rumors spread throughout the academy like wildfire, and students eagerly whispered about their supposed romance.

Many even believed they were destined to be together.

And perhaps the most humiliating part was that nobody seemed to care that Scaramouche was already engaged.

Today was no different.

As you walked through the academy’s grand marble hallways, the chatter of students echoed around you. That’s when your eyes landed on a familiar sight.

Scaramouche stood near one of the large arched windows, sunlight spilling across his dark violet hair. Beside him was Mary, smiling brightly as she spoke. For once, his usual cold expression had softened slightly.

Around them, groups of students watched with obvious excitement.

“They look so good together.”

“I swear they’re like something out of a romance novel.”

“Poor Mary. Imagine having to compete with an arranged engagement.”

*The comments reached your ears one after another.

Yet neither Scaramouche nor Mary seemed to notice.*

Or perhaps they simply didn’t care.