When we arrived, I drifted toward the magnolia tree and paused beneath its wide canopy. The tree stood tall and elegant, its broad branches stretching outward like open arms. Thick clusters of pink and ivory blossoms clung to the limbs, their velvety petals fluttering gently in the breeze. The scent—sweet, subtle, and almost nostalgic—lingered in the air, wrapping around me like a soft shawl.

  I stood quietly in its shade, watching the ke just beyond the garden. The water was still, its surface gssy and clear, catching the sunlight like a sheet of silver. Ripples occasionally disturbed its calm, each one glinting like scattered gemstones. It was the kind of pce that made silence feel like a gift.

  As I waited for Jane, a hush settled around me, the only sounds being the soft rustle of petals overhead and the distant call of birds over the water. Slowly, the tension from earlier began to ease.

  While gazing into the distance, I couldn’t help but think back to the First Prince—his expression, his presence, and the way he looked at me earlier. There was something in his gaze I couldn’t quite pce, and his remark about me being “different” continued to echo in my mind. What exactly had he meant by that?

  I searched my memory, trying to recall how Titania had been described in the book I once read. But no matter how hard I tried, there wasn’t much to go on. She had only been a side character—one of Cece’s loyal followers. The only notable detail I could remember was that she had supposedly pressured her parents into arranging an engagement with the First Prince.

  That was it. No deep backstory, no real personality—just a name and a role.

  I just wish the story had fleshed out the other characters more. It was so heavily centered on the male lead—his hardships, his trials, his growth—that everyone else felt like background noise. And honestly, I only read it in passing. The plot wasn’t anything remarkable—it was full of clichés and predictable twists.

  I didn’t care much about following the story—I chose to live true to myself. And in doing so, I’ve grown to genuinely love the people here and the new life I’ve come to know. From the very beginning, I made a firm decision to keep the First Prince off my radar. I had no intention of getting involved with him, let alone entertaining the idea of an engagement. Becoming part of the royal family was never my goal. That world is far too messy, and I have no desire to wade into such murky waters.

  Jane arrived, a rolled-up bnket tucked under one arm and a basket swinging from the other. Cecil stepped forward to meet her, taking the bnket from her hands. Together, they spread it beneath the soft shade of the magnolia tree, working in quiet harmony as Jane knelt to help smooth out the corners. Once everything was in pce, I slipped off my shoes and sank gently onto the bnket. With a small smile, Jane reached into the basket, pulled out my book, and pced it in my hands.

  I flipped it open to the page marked by my ribbon, trying to refocus my mind. In the background, Jane carefully arranged the teapot and cups on a pcemat, the soft clink of porcein barely breaking the stillness. I tried to read—tried—but the words on the page blurred together. My thoughts refused to settle, still caught on the First Prince and the story I once skimmed through so casually.

  Eventually, I gave up. I let the book rest open against my chest as I leaned back and stretched out across the bnket. Closing my eyes, I tried to calm the restlessness inside me.

  No matter how much I wanted to pretend I was unaffected, that the original story didn’t matter—it did. It stirred something in me I couldn’t quite ignore.

  Only a few quiet moments had passed when a voice broke the stillness. “What a great view.”

  Cool, composed, and unmistakable.

  My eyes snapped open. I knew that voice—it was etched into my memory.

  I hurriedly sat up, instinctively turning toward the source. Just as I opened my mouth to greet him with the usual formality, he spoke again.

  “There’s no need for formalities.” His tone was calm, but the weight behind it was unmistakable—steady, commanding.

  Still, I straightened my back for formality's sake. What is he even doing here? Can I not have a single moment of peace today? I thought, suppressing a sigh.

  Behind him, at a respectable distance, I spotted Jane and Cecil standing with a knight, watching quietly.

  Without waiting for an invitation, the First Prince lowered himself onto the bnket, settling across from me with only the teapot and teacups between us. His eyes remained on the ke, his presence composed—aloof, even—but his silence spoke volumes. He didn’t so much as gnce at me, nor acknowledge the tension slowly curling in my chest.

  He was the same age as my brother Trev, but they couldn’t be more different. Where Trev’s energy was bright and carefree, the prince exuded a cool confidence—a quiet strength that came from knowing the weight of the crown. His youthful appearance didn’t soften that commanding air; if anything, it made him all the more striking.

  Now that he was this close, I couldn’t help but study his features more closely.The novel didn’t do him justice.

  His eyes were sharp, framed by dark shes; his brows arched with purpose. A tall, elegant nose, well-shaped lips, and a strong jawline completed the picture. Everything about him was refined, effortless. If he had lived in my old world, people would’ve paid to see him—his face alone could’ve made him a star.

  “You’re staring quite intently, my dy,” he said at st, still not looking at me. “Careful. You might burn a hole through my face.”

  Was that… a joke?

  His face didn’t show a hint of amusement—serious as ever—so I wasn’t entirely sure.

  “Well,” I said, before thinking it through, “you’re giving me something worth staring at.”

  As soon as the words slipped out, I froze.

  We weren’t close. That was far too casual to say to royalty—too bold.

  He let out a soft cough at my remark, subtle but unmistakably amused. Then, for the first time since arriving, he turned to look at me. The moment our eyes met, I dropped my gaze, the weight of embarrassment crashing down on me.

  A light chuckle followed. “Perhaps you shouldn’t say things that embarrass you in the first pce,” he said, his usually composed tone now tinged with teasing warmth.

  Still flustered, I forced my voice into something steady and polite. “My apologies, Your Highness. I tend to speak before I think.”

  His gaze shifted, nding on something beside me.

  Following his line of sight, my heart sank. The book I had been reading earlier must’ve slipped when I sat up—its title now shamelessly on dispy: The Northern Duke Is Obsessed With Me, Volume 2.

  Right there, in bold, glittering letters.

  I instantly moved to cover it, snatching it up and hiding it behind me in one swift, frantic motion.

  Why do I keep humiliating myself in front of this man? I groaned inwardly.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flicker in his expression—just for a second, a glint of amusement sparked in his eyes. Then it vanished, repced by his usual unreadable calm.

  Thankfully, he didn’t say a word about the book.

  But now I was hyper-aware of everything. The silence between us. The faint rustle of the breeze. And him—right there across from me, unbothered, unshaken, and impossibly hard to read.

  This was supposed to be a peaceful day, I thought bitterly.Instead, it had turned into a scene straight out of one of those cliché novels—and I was the flustered heroine trying to pretend I wasn’t utterly unraveling. Oh god, I want to run away from this situation.

  His silence was somehow even more nerve-wracking than if he’d said something.What am I supposed to say right now?I had no idea how to keep a conversation going between us, let alone how to entertain a royalty. The awkwardness stretched and thickened like fog, settling heavily between us.

  I stole a gnce in his direction.

  He was once again gazing out at the ke, his expression unreadable, detached—as though he hadn’t just witnessed one of my most humiliating moments. But something told me he had. And that he was very intentionally choosing not to mention it.

  Which, of course, made it even worse.

  I could hear my heartbeat thudding in my ears. Was he doing this on purpose? Did he enjoy watching people squirm? Or was he simply one of those people whose mere presence could make the air feel heavy?

  He reached forward with a slow, deliberate grace, lifting the teapot and carefully pouring its contents into one of the cups set between us. The motion was elegant—refined in a way that made it painfully obvious he'd been raised in a world where even the act of pouring tea had to look effortless.

  I watched as he brought the cup to his lips and took a small sip, eyes briefly closing in what could only be described as satisfaction.

  He’s clearly enjoying himself, I thought, biting back a sigh. He even has the audacity to drink tea like this is a peaceful picnic and not my slow social downfall.

  Then, without warning, he spoke again.

  “You seem very amused by what I do, Lady Titania,” he said, his tone casually smooth. “You haven’t been able to take your eyes off me.”

  My heart stopped.

  Oh, good god. Hear my plea. Let the earth swallow me now.Had I been that obvious?

  Judging by the look on his face—somewhere between knowing and far too amused—the answer was yes.

  Seeing my mortified expression, he let out a soft ugh. “I’m joking,” he said, clearly entertained. “No wonder your brothers enjoy teasing you—your expressions are quite... delightful.”

  I wanted to disappear. Or at the very least, rewind time by ten minutes and pretend this conversation had never happened.

  I took a steadying breath, forcing myself to sit a little straighter. He wants to tease? Fine. Two could py in that game.

  “Well,” I said, lifting my chin just slightly, “if Your Highness insists on being the most interesting thing in my line of sight, you really can’t bme me for looking.”

  He blinked—just once—but I caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile, but close enough.

  “A bold statement,” he said, swirling the tea in his cup with idle elegance. “Are you always this straightforward, or is it only when you’re embarrassed?”

  I gave him my most dignified expression, despite the heat still prickling my cheeks. “It’s called honesty. You might try it sometime.”

  That earned a quiet ugh—a real one this time, low and brief, but undeniably amused. It startled me more than I cared to admit. He was always so composed, so poised, like a statue carved out of cool marble. But in that moment, something softer slipped through the cracks.

  “You’re not what I expected,” he said, voice dropping just enough to lose its usual aloofness.

  I hesitated. “And what exactly did you expect?”

  He didn’t answer right away. His gaze drifted from the ke to the blossoms overhead, as if the answer was somewhere in the rustling petals.

  “Someone quieter,” he said finally. “More careful. Less… honest.”

  A pause. And then he looked at me again.

  “But I suppose honesty is refreshing.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable anymore—it had shifted, softened. Something about it felt different now, like the tension between us had twisted into curiosity.

  I gnced at the teacup he had emptied. “Well, at least now I know how to make a royal smile. I’ll put that on my resume.”

  He actually smiled at that—small and fleeting, but unmistakably real.

  “I doubt you’ll need a resume,” he replied, “but noted.”

  With that, he rose to his feet. I stood as well, watching as he brushed off his coat and slipped his shoes back on with practiced ease. From across the garden, Jane, Cecil, and the knight began making their way toward us, likely assuming the conversation had come to an end.

  “I’ll leave you now, Lady Nia. Thank you for the lovely conversation,” he said, walking away without so much as a backward gnce.

  I stood there, eyes fixed on his retreating figure. So he’s just going to leave like that? I thought, stunned.

  He had joined me uninvited, helped himself to my tea, watched me unravel in embarrassment—and now he walked off without a care in the world.

  Yup. That’s enough chaos for one day. I’m officially steering clear of him from now on, I decided firmly.

  Letting out a sigh, I turned to Jane and Cecil. “Let’s clear everything up and head back inside.”

  Jane and Cecil exchanged gnces but said nothing, wisely sensing my mood. Together, they began clearing everything in silence. The warmth of the tea had long faded, and so had the illusion of a quiet, uneventful afternoon.

  I couldn’t help but gnce once more toward the path the prince had taken. Of course, he was long gone by now—vanished like a breeze that left chaos in its wake. The man was infuriating. Composed, unreadable, and somehow always in control, even when he wasn’t supposed to be part of the scene to begin with.

  “Young Lady,” Jane said gently as she pced the empty teacups back into the basket, “are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” I replied automatically, then paused. “Just… surprised, I suppose.”

  “We apologize for not informing you about the Prince’s arrival,” Cecil said with a remorseful tone.

  “It’s alright,” I replied gently. “I know you were just as surprised as I was.”

  They finished packing up, and we began walking back toward the estate. The soft crunch of gravel under our shoes filled the silence. My thoughts, however, were anything but quiet.

  He said I wasn’t what he expected. Honest. Refreshing. As if I were some kind of rare curiosity.

  I shook my head to chase the thought away. It didn’t matter. The pn was simple: keep my head down, avoid unnecessary entanglements, and live this life the way I wanted. Whatever strange interest the First Prince might have had—it wasn’t my problem.

  At least, that’s what I told myself.

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