“Exactly,” Lucine intoned slowly, her voice tinged with caution. She needed to ensure Aris understood the gravity of her choice. “And you’re alright with this?”

“Me?” Aris echoed, her tone light. “Yes.”

Aris flashed Lucine a radiant smile.

“I like this man.”

“My lady…”

“I like him enough to consider marriage,” she declared firmly.

Before becoming Aris Horissen in the novel, her life had been shadowed by terminal illness. Cancer, like a relentless invader, had spread throughout her body, confining her to a bed in her youth. Determined to live her remaining days on her own terms, she immersed herself in the world of romance novels. However, she grew to despise the recurring trope of scoundrel men who mistreated women. Each man she had dated in reality had left her heartbroken, echoing the disdainful characters in her books. Then, she discovered this particular novel.

Though not widely acclaimed, it encapsulated everything she yearned for in a romance. It was as if her ideal story had been brought to life through its pages. For her, securing a happy ending with the male lead was non-negotiable.

Intent on getting closer to him, she planned to send him a letter. She anticipated being dismissed as just another admirer, lost among many, and doubted he would bother to respond.

“If you say so,” Lucine sighed, resigned.

Once her lady made up her mind, there was no swaying her. If Aris was serious enough about this man to consider marriage, Lucine’s hands were tied. With another sigh, she called in a young man, expert in secrecy and self-defense, ideal for delivering the letter.

***

The man, Hiun, was visibly nervous, understanding the personal nature of his task.

“What’s your name?” Aris inquired.

“Hiun,” he replied promptly, his name inadvertently reminding Aris of the detestable crown prince.

Aris handed him the folded letter. “Deliver this to Commander Roy,” she instructed firmly.

“Yes, my lady.” Hiun acknowledged, nodding as she added not to linger for a reply.

“You must keep this confidential,” Lucine stressed, her tone grave and commanding, a clear warning of her influence within the Horissen household.

“I understand,” Hiun assured, departing with the letter.

“I’m fine if he doesn’t keep it secret,” Aris giggled, light-hearted.

“But I am not,” Lucine countered, exasperated. “Why do you need to send a letter to him anyway? He’s a commoner; you’re a noblewoman, potentially the next crown princess.”

Lucine couldn’t fathom why Aris would pursue a man rumored to favor mute women.

“Commoner?” Aris repeated, already privy to the truth behind the rumor from the novel.

“My lady!”

“Yes?”

“Will you write to him again?”

Aris nodded. “Once Hiun returns. I don’t want to overwhelm him with letters during such busy times,” she stated, rising. High tea was over, and her regular schedule awaited her tomorrow.

Little did anyone know, the household was on the cusp of a tumultuous night.

* * *

Meanwhile, Ian found himself summoned for a private audience with the emperor. Juselle, observing the marquis's arrival, couldn’t suppress a smug smile.

“The crown prince has chosen your daughter for his first dance,” he announced.

Ian’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Why… why my daughter?”

"He was quite taken with her," Juselle asserted, a hint of certainty in his voice.

But this contradicted what Aris had told Ian. She believed the crown prince favored other ladies. Ian grappled with confusion over the unexpected choice.

"It seems your daughter's societal debut will be sooner than anticipated," the emperor interjected, adding a layer of formality to the conversation. Traditionally, young ladies debuted on their 17th birthdays, but the crown prince's decision had fast-tracked Aris's introduction to high society. "I eagerly await next month's ball."

"Your Imperial Majesty, please reconsider—" Ian started, only to be swiftly interrupted by Juselle.

“Declined,” Juselle stated flatly, making his stance clear. The emperor's serene smile belied the gravity of the situation. "Isn't this a prestigious honor for your family?”

Ian internally scoffed at the notion. Prestigious? More like a nightmare he couldn't escape. Refusing a royal command was unthinkable, yet he couldn't fathom the crown prince's interest in Aris. The thought of breaking this news to her weighed heavily on his heart.

Leaving the emperor's presence, Ian trudged back to his carriage, consumed by self-reproach. He berated himself for failing to shield his daughter from this unwelcome fate.

Upon reaching the Horissen manor, he found Aris waiting, her mahogany hair cascading over her shoulders, her brown eyes sparkling with life. Her beauty was undeniable, possibly the reason for the crown prince's choice.

“What’s wrong, Father?” Aris inquired, sensing his distress.

“The crown prince has chosen you for the first dance at the ball,” Ian revealed with a heavy heart.

“What?” Aris's voice was a blend of shock and disbelief. “Me?”

“Yes.”

The news struck Aris as absurd. The crown prince had barely acknowledged her. Why her?

"Dear God,” she murmured, stunned.

“Oh my goodness!” Lucine exclaimed, a mix of shock and excitement in her voice. “When is the ball?”

“In a month," Ian replied, still somber.

Lucine's mind raced with preparations. Aris needed more dance lessons, a new dress, and impeccable makeup. The pressure was immense - her first dance in high society was with the crown prince, and all eyes would be on her.

“One month is hardly enough!” Lucine fretted, her excitement tinged with anxiety. Serving a lady of such prominence was both an honor and a challenge.

I don’t want to go! Aris thought, her mind in turmoil.

“My lady, what style of dress do you prefer?” Lucine asked.

“I don’t care,” Aris responded dismissively.

I despise the crown prince!’

Her thoughts were a whirlwind of resistance. She had no desire for the superficialities of high society, least of all encountering the prince she loathed.

* * *

Meanwhile, on the battlefield, chaos reigned. Survival meant relentlessly fighting off enemy soldiers. Amidst this brutal landscape, a hero emerged, bravely defending against the onslaught from the Oraanian Empire.

“Who goes there?” a guard challenged Hiun as he neared the postal hub, bustling with people sorting letters and packages.

“I have a letter for Commander Roy.”

The guard eyed Hiun with suspicion. “Commander Roy?”

“Yes."

At this, the guard signaled to two others, who swiftly apprehended Hiun and ushered him into a nearby barracks.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Hiun protested as he was pulled inside.

“Security check. Remove your clothing,” the guards ordered, releasing him.

Confused but compliant, Hiun disrobed in the barracks. The guards conducted a thorough inspection, ensuring he was unarmed. Once satisfied, they allowed him to dress.

“We apologize for the intrusion,” the guards said, bowing slightly.

“Is there a problem?” Hiun inquired, now redressed.

“There have been assassination attempts on the commander, hence the heightened security,” they explained.

“Ah,” Hiun nodded, his confusion clearing. “I just need to deliver this letter to him.”

He retrieved Aris's letter from his pocket, its sweet, floral scent contrasting starkly with the grim battlefield surroundings.

“The young lady I serve admires the commander greatly,” Hiun explained, carefully choosing his words.

Aris had briefed him on the terminology of this world, so he avoided using the term 'fangirl' and instead described her as a supporter.

“And whom do you serve?” the guards inquired, their curiosity piqued by the unusual scented stationery, a luxury rarely affordable for commoners.

“Lady Aris Horissen,” Hiun answered.

“The daughter of Marquis Horissen?”

“Yes.”

Exchanging knowing looks, the guards nodded. “We are in direct service to the commander. We'll ensure he receives the letter,” one guard assured Hiun.

“My lady expects no reply,” Hiun stated.

“Understood.” Accepting the letter, the guards departed with it in their possession.

I hope it reaches him, Hiun thought, having fulfilled his duty. Now, all he could do was hope that the letter would safely find its way to Commander Roy.

* * *

Meanwhile, within the camp's headquarters, tensions were high.

“It’s unfair for him to receive all the credit!” a man with long green hair and twin blades at his sides protested vehemently. He was incensed upon learning that the latest battle's success was to be credited to a commander who hadn’t even participated.

“Calm down, Thurwin,” Commander Roy interjected, silencing his subordinate.

“But Commander Roy!” Thurwin objected.

“There's nothing I can do. It’s a higher-up's decision,” Roy explained resignedly.

He was the mastermind behind the war strategy, including the recent mission. Yet, the credit was to be awarded to a superior general, a fact that Thurwin found intolerable.

Roy watched Thurwin's outburst with a touch of amusement. While he felt slighted, he knew that expressing his frustration would change nothing. Challenging his superiors was a different kind of battle, one he wasn't keen on fighting, especially with the numerous adversaries he already faced.

“I just want this war to end,” Roy shrugged, revealing his true sentiments. “I hate war,” he confessed, a paradox for a soldier of his caliber.

Skilled in combat and swordsmanship, yet averse to violence, Roy longed for a peaceful life, perhaps with a cat for company. He ran his hand through his dark hair, pondering his future.

Later that day, a generals' meeting awaited him, where he would be the focal point for discussing strategies against the Oraanian Empire. Many generals sought his collaboration, seeing it as a ticket to their own success and promotion.

“Oh, commander,” Thurwin sighed, admiring Roy's humility. Roy had the merit to be a top-ranking general, yet he never sought undue credit, simply executing his duties with excellence.

He was a commoner, yet his exceptional strength and skill surpassed that of many nobles. His loyalty from his soldiers was unwavering, and while many were envious, none dared to challenge him due to their indebtedness for their own promotions.

“I don’t want enemies,” Roy stated simply.

Despite his prowess, he was acutely aware of his vulnerability in the political arena. Without influential backers, his position was precarious. Ambition could cost him everything, even his life. His desire was simple: a peaceful, long future.