The Archduchess’s Loyal Shapeshifter
Chapter 1

Prologue

The rumor that the emperor’s only sister—the empire’s sole archduchess—had taken a slave as a lover shook high society to its core. The idea that a member of the imperial family would take a slave as a lover was shocking enough, but to make matters worse, he was supposedly an anthromorph—a race that was regarded as savage beasts.

Everyone wanted to find out whether the rumor was true. However, Rosalin Idris Apelluden was not someone who frequented high society, and it seemed unlikely she ever would. None of the many invitations sent to the archduchess’s mansion had received a reply.

If Rosalin’s power was insignificant, it might have been possible to drag her out to a ball or a tea party. However, in this empire, only two people outranked her—the emperor and the empress—and they were not idle enough to summon someone just because of a scandal. As a result, the rumor remained unconfirmed, continuing to grow amid speculation.

This was not the first time that Rosalin Idris Apelluden had been the subject of gossip. Since her days as a princess, she had engaged in behavior unimaginable for a proper young lady. She spent time with sweaty knights and eventually started wearing trousers instead of dresses.

Rosalin was known for carrying a cane instead of a fan, and for her bizarre actions. Once, she twisted the arm of a viscount who had grabbed her wrist. Even after getting married, she kicked out her perfectly healthy husband and replaced him with multiple lovers. As a result, rumors about her grew more horrifying with each noblewoman’s retelling.

Despite the inevitable fact that the rumors must’ve reached the archduchess’s mansion, Rosalin did nothing to address them. Whether it was the rumor about her promiscuity, that she had dozens of lovers residing in her estate, or even the speculation that she was no longer a virgin at the time of her marriage, she remained unresponsive.

The only people frustrated by her indifference were those gossiping in the capital. They longed for the chance to say, “I saw it with my own eyes,” or “I heard it directly from the archduchess.” Such declarations would place them at the center of high society for an entire season.

However, no one had the opportunity and their curiosity only intensified. Was the rumor true? Could the archduchess really have taken a slave—specifically an anthromorph—as a lover? Would someone of her noble standing truly share her bed with a slave?

There were three groups of people—one-third believed the rumor would be proven false, another third hoped it was true for their entertainment, and the remaining third simply wanted to discover the truth out of curiosity.

Amidst this hotbed of speculation, a rumor circulated that the archduchess would be attending the imperial ball held to celebrate the princess’s birthday. There was a high chance that this was true, since she had attended last year’s ball.

Hearing the news, everyone prepared for the ball with a new goal in mind.

Let’s confirm the rumor, one way or another. If that fails, at least we can try talking to her.

Amidst everyone’s eager anticipation, it was finally the day of the ball.

“Archduchess Rosalin Idris Apelluden has arrived!”

All eyes turned toward the door at the attendant’s call. If those gazes were needles, Rosalin would have instantly become a hedgehog covered in quills. Yet, she entered calmly, showing no sign of discomfort despite the hundreds of eyes fixed on her.

Rosalin walked into the grand hall with composure, not giving her attention to anyone. Nevertheless, no one could look away from her. It wasn’t just their eagerness to speak to her—it had been a long while since she had been seen in public, and her appearance naturally evoked admiration.

The chandelier’s soft light danced off her brilliant golden hair, and her striking emerald eyes were as vivid as new spring leaves. She possessed the same stunning beauty as the late empress, who had risen to her position solely because of her looks. Her striking appearance captivated even passing glances.

Tonight, Rosalin wore an elaborate dress. Although it was extraordinary, it was still less shocking compared to the trousers she wore to last year’s birthday ball. Nevertheless, her audacious dress was far from mundane. It was unlike any gown typically worn by noblewomen. Instead of the usual corset, her dress seemed to be crafted from a single piece of fabric draped around her body. It had an exotic style which was more fitting for a play or a ball in a faraway country.

In contrast to the empire’s customary dresses with puffy skirts and layers of decorative fabric, Rosalin’s gown clung to her slender figure. Made from a scandalously thin material, it looked as though it might slip off with the slightest tug.

However, the most captivating feature was the back, which exposed her skin from the shoulders down most of her upper body. The smooth, white expanse of her back and her slim waist caught everyone’s eye, causing many men to swallow nervously.

How does one become the archduchess’s lover?

This same thought passed through many men’s minds simultaneously. Yet, their attention and admiring gazes began to shift from Rosalin when they belatedly noticed her partner.

“Who is that man?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen him before…”

“Is he the rumored lover?”

“I thought he was supposed to be an anthromorph. He doesn’t have animal ears or a tail.”

The man gracefully escorting Rosalin on his arm looked nothing like an anthromorph. He appeared to be human in every respect, and his posture and actions were too refined to be those of a slave. Despite his dark complexion, which lent him an air of foreignness, most people felt intrigued by his undeniable allure.

His clear, golden eyes and neatly groomed black hair exuded elegance, and his striking features elicited gasps of admiration from those who saw him, making him the most enchanting man in the hall. Moreover, the muscular arms and chest visible beneath his impeccably tailored evening suit were exceptionally impressive.

Several ladies who had been sneaking looks at his solid, broad chest couldn’t help but swallow nervously. Romantically inclined young ladies attending the ball were particularly struck by his soft smile and were on the verge of swooning.

“Which family do you think he belongs to?”

“Oh, please! He has to be the slave from all the rumors.”

“Do you really think the archduchess would bring a slave to the imperial ball as her partner?”

“You’re right, he must be someone else.”

“Besides, the rumor about the slave was unfounded from the start. Is there anyone who has actually seen this rumored slave consort?”

A few men who had anticipated scandalous gossip began to feel uncomfortable, as even their partners were mesmerized by the new arrival. Some became so uncomfortable that they resorted to making snide remarks, sparking arguments in various corners of the room.

The lover who’s a slave must be someone else. How can you prove that rumor is true?

Then who is he anyway?

He must be a lowborn knight serving the archduchess.

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that half of those present at the ball attended just to confirm the rumor. Even if Rosalin had brought an ordinary man as her partner, he would have been the center of attention simply by association.

However, the current partner of the archduchess was exceptionally handsome and appeared to be in excellent physical shape. He also exhibited impeccable manners and friendliness—the perfect counter to the scandalous rumors of a slave consort.

From elderly noblewomen to young debutantes, countless women watched him with desire. Due to the presence of the archduchess—one of the most powerful figures in the empire—and their doubts about his status, no one dared to approach him first.

“Do you think he’s from another country?”

“Now that you mention it, I’ve heard that people from western Tahallan have that complexion.”

“I haven’t heard of any diplomats visiting recently. Could this be an unofficial visit?”

The whispered speculation of course reached the man himself. Fenrir, whose hearing was keener than others, perked up his ears whenever he caught snippets of conversations about himself. Though he no longer had the ears or the tail of a beast, he hadn’t quite shed the habits from his youth. Resisting the urge to scratch his head, he glanced over at Rosalin, who maintained a neutral expression.

“Stop laughing,” Fenrir said.

“I wasn’t laughing,” Rosalin responded.

“You’re laughing on the inside.”

“What I do on the inside is my own business. Just so you know, I find controlling men like that to be very boring.”