----

*footsteps echoing*

"My lady, be careful!"

*slip... thud...*

"Eheh! Sorry, Margaret! Wait, is that—EEK! MOTHER?! Oh no, I’m dead. I’m so dead!"

"Evelyn Brighton! How many times have I told you—act like a proper lady! Sliding down the staircase? What in heavens is this nonsense?!"

"I... I’m sorry, Mother..."

"Sigh....Spoiled. You’re absolutely spoiled! No wonder you think this behavior is acceptable!"

Evelyn muttered under her breath, "All she cares about is my marriage..."

"Did you say something?" Catherine's sharp gaze cut through Evelyn.

"No, not at all, Mother!" Evelyn smiled as sweetly as a cat caught near an empty birdcage.

Catherine huffed. "Get ready for tonight's Annual Ball. His Highness has specifically invited you. And listen carefully: no ruckus, no sarcasm, and absolutely no embarrassing antics! If you so much as breathe wrong, you’ll wish you were never born!" With that, Catherine swept out dramatically.

Evelyn rolled her eyes, a thought crossed her mind. "The Crown Prince, huh? What does he think he is!? If I didn't make him bald tonight, I might as well change my name."  

---

As the sun melted into the horizon, the Royal Palace glowed with a golden brilliance. Crystal chandeliers sparkled, marble floors gleamed, and nobles buzzed about like overdressed bees. The atmosphere dripped with opulence and just a pinch of gossip.  

*drumroll*  

"The Brighton family is making their entrance!" the guard announced.

The ballroom’s grand doors creaked open, and a hush swept through the crowd. Enter the Duke and Duchess, majestic as ever—but no one cared about them. All eyes zoomed in on Evelyn, her gown shimmering like molten silver, every step exuding grace and defiance.  

"Ugh," Evelyn muttered to herself. "If that annoying prince tries anything tonight, I swear I’ll—wait, act proper, Evelyn. PROPER."

She curtsied before the Empress, who beamed at her. "Ah, Evelyn, you’ve grown even more beautiful. Perhaps a 'little' too beautiful for your own good, hmm?"

"Ha... ha... Thank you, Your Majesty. I’ll, um, go mingle now!" Evelyn squeaked, excusing herself before the matchmaking began.

She found refuge the refreshment table, staring at the ripples in her fruit punch. Her peaceful moment was cut short when the sharp cackles of a group of noble girls pierced the air.

"Honestly, she thinks she’s 'all that'!" one sneered loudly, ensuring Evelyn could hear.

"I know! The audacity to believe she deserves him." Another giggled cruelly.

Evelyn sighed. "I’d deal with this pettiness if I had the time. But right now, I—wait. Oh no. Is that... the prince?!" She spotted him weaving through the crowd toward her, his intent clear.  

Her heart jumped. "Nope. Not today. Not ever." Evelyn turned and zigzagged through the ballroom like a squirrel avoiding a hawk.

From behind, the girls taunted Evelyn, "She’s so scared she’s running! Hahaha!"

---

As Evelyn tried to outmaneuver the prince, she collided with someone. The impact made her gasp, but when she looked up, she was met with emerald-green eyes that sparkled with intrigue. The youngman, tall but with a delicate and elegant appearance, looked entirely out of place.

"I-I’m so sorry!" Evelyn stammered, glancing over her shoulder as the prince closed in.

The youngman gave a small bow. "No harm done, my lady."

She dropped her voice to a whisper, desperation creeping in. "Please, I know this is sudden, but... will you dance with me?"

The young man raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye. "Dance? My lady, aren’t you already spoken for tonight?"

Evelyn shot another glance at the prince, now dangerously close. "Not exactly," she muttered through gritted teeth.

The young man followed her gaze and immediately understood. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face. "Ah, I see."

"Please," Evelyn begged, her voice barely audible. "Just one dance."

The young man chuckled softly, offering his hand. "Very well. Shall we?"

Before Evelyn could overthink it, he brushed a strand of her hair aside and led her to the dance floor. His dark black hair caught the light, and those emerald eyes seemed to hold a thousand secrets. Evelyn barely noticed the stunned crowd—or the prince, frozen in place—as her mysterious savior spun her into the rhythm of the music.  

---

"Thank you," Evelyn whispered as they danced. Her nerves had finally begun to settle. "I owe you for that."

He chuckled. "No debt owed, my lady. Though I must admit, I didn’t expect to play the hero tonight."

Evelyn smirked, her confidence returning. "Well, you played the role admirably. But... I don’t even know your name."

The man’s lips curved into a mischievous smile. "Some things are better left as mystery, don’t you think?"

Evelyn blinked, speechless for once. As the music ended, he bowed, disappearing into the crowd before she could ask more.  

---

That night, Evelyn lay in bed, clutching her pillow with a grin so wide it almost hurt. Who was he? Where did he come from? And why did her heart skip every time she thought of those emerald eyes?

Meanwhile, at the palace, the Crown Prince stood by a balcony, a dark smile tugging at his lips. "Evelyn Brighton," he muttered to himself, "you won’t escape me that easily..."