Chapter 1

A man was quickly making his way down a grand and majestic hallway. His blond hair was neatly combed back, and his eyebrows were thick and even below his smooth forehead. But the true highlights of his perfectly symmetrical face were his eyes—a pair of mesmerizing reddish-green eyes, aligned above his high and straight nose, that contained the dignity and arrogance of someone born to be a ruler.

The man’s expression remained composed, but his hurried steps betrayed an air of impatience. He turned the corner and climbed the staircase, crossing the upper-floor landing and down a hallway. Finally, he came to an intricate white door.

His handsome face, as expressionless as stone, finally cracked. As he flung the door open, he felt himself momentarily drowned in white light. A gentle breeze washed over him, as though opening this door had brought forth the early arrival of spring.

His eyes were fixated on one spot. He saw wavy black hair that starkly stood out against the all-white interior of the room. There was a gleaming rounded forehead, and eyebrows just as dark as the wavy hair perched above a pair of black irises. There were shapely ears, behind which a few strands of hair were tucked.

Having sensed his arrival, the woman before him slowly raised her head. Her eyes widened as they met his and her red lips parted in a smile, revealing a row of pearly white teeth.

The man’s breath caught in his throat. He froze.

“Noah!” the woman cried joyfully.

The sound of her voice brought the man back to his senses. He approached her, feeling an inexplicable anxiety—a fear that her pretty face might disappear at any second.

With urgency, he leaned over her as she sat on the sofa. Gingerly cradling her slender neck with one hand, he bit into her lips, which were as red and fragrant as roses in full bloom. The scent of her flesh grazing his nose and the sensation of her soft lips sent an electric jolt down through his stomach, nearly melting his insides.

“Oh...” the woman sighed. At the sound of her shallow breathing, he was overcome by an insatiable thirst. All of his senses seemed to be pounding down on him at once.

Noah angled his head and buried his face in her neck. With his teeth, he pulled down the dress that was barely clinging to her dainty shoulders, revealing a swath of porcelain-white skin that starkly contrasted with her dark hair.

“Noah,” she whimpered in want, and now it felt like his head was melting too.

He slowly ran his lips over the soft curve of her shoulder, his breath quickening. Her high-pitched moans tickled his ears, and the tenderness of her flesh left lust simmering on his tongue. He felt like the world could end right this moment and he wouldn’t mind.

Relishing the touch of her fingers as they lightly ran through his hair, Noah raised his head. An innocent and beautiful face was staring back at him.

Seeing his own reflection in those dark eyes, he whispered, “Olivia.”

* * *

Noah’s eyes shot open. He found himself panting heavily, hardly unlike someone who’d been fast asleep a moment ago. He tried to stay calm and collect himself, but then he noticed the cruelly all-too-familiar ceiling. Unconsciously, he gasped and squeezed his eyes shut.

“You crazy bastard...!” he growled at himself through clenched teeth, forcefully rubbing his face. Apparently this wasn’t enough, because he then proceeded to slam his head several times into his pillow. The quiet bedchamber was filled with only the sounds of his ragged breathing.

He finally kicked off the covers and sat at the edge of his bed. Resting his elbows on his lap, he buried his face in his hands.

The next moment, a phantom voice he’d never heard before echoed off the walls. “Noah...”

At the silvery voice calling out his name, Noah scoffed in disbelief. “I must be losing my mind. Maybe I’ve been pent up lately...”

Leaning his broad torso forward, he struggled to bring his emotions under control. That quiet and calm voice had never once trembled with such uncertainty, nor dared to call his name. It couldn’t—for the woman would never address him as Noah, but only...

“Your Highness.”

And not once had he seen such arousal smoldering in those black eyes, nor felt her slender arms wound so tightly around his neck. It was all a fantasy, a figment of Noah Astrid’s imagination.

“What an awful start to the morning,” he muttered scornfully, sneering at himself as he eyed the silver flashlight on his nightstand. He’d made good use of it for a long time, but now it was broken.

Olivia. He had thought he’d forget the name within a month, but somehow, he couldn’t get her out of his head. That wasn’t even the worst of it. He was well past puberty now—it made no sense that he’d be having such erotic dreams at this age.

Irritably clicking his tongue, he opened up the newspaper on his nightstand to provide himself some distraction. After skimming through articles on the now-fallen Royal Family of Folia, his eyes landed on a headline.

Olivia Liberty Appointed First Female Professor

It was that name again. Scowling, Noah slid his gaze down to a black-and-white photograph of a demure young woman smiling out at him from the page. She was dressed in a blouse and a long flared skirt—just like the time he’d first seen her in the newspaper two or so years before.

* * *

It was two years ago in Herolington, the capital of the Herod Kingdom. In a grand manor located in Upper River, one of the city’s most exclusive neighborhoods, Noah arose early in the morning. He had forced himself through multiple events the night before and arrived home well past midnight.

“Damn it,” he groaned. Fatigue aside, he was in a foul mood. How could he not be, when he would soon have to face the results of the hellish nightmare he’d endured at last night’s events?

He turned his gaze to his nightstand. There sat the object of his dread—the morning paper. He snatched it up, praying harder than ever that he would encounter his own face plastered across the front page.

But alas, life was never so kind. The moment he saw the gigantic photo of his uncle, he closed his eyes and uttered a string of profanities. “Damn it. Goddamn it!” He leaped to his feet, hurling aside the newspaper that bore the face of the man he so detested.

All of yesterday’s efforts had been a waste. Noah had attended a whopping seven events to try and distract the press—but in the end, he had not managed to spare his uncle the great honor of gracing the front page of every newspaper in the capital. “Why am I the one who has to clean up the mess he made?!”

It was obvious that Noah’s father, the king, would soon be summoning him in a fury. Seething at the mere idea, he pulled out a cigarette and stepped onto the balcony. Just as he was about to light it, Betty, the head maid, entered the room pushing a tray cart.

Leaning against the balcony railing, Noah stared up at the skies and said, “Thank you. You can leave it there and go.”

It was clear that something had deeply upset the prince. Betty swiftly set the table, casting curious glances his way. The man’s smooth and graceful facial features, arranged in perfect harmony, were enough to make anyone marvel. He had a tall and rather muscular build, but due to the soft contours of his face—or perhaps the sophisticated demeanor that had been drilled into him since he was young—he exuded a delicate refinement.

Noah was respectful to those who served him, and Betty had no complaints whatsoever. That being said, the prince never allowed himself to be too vulnerable with the servants—if anyone dared to step over that line, they would be summarily fired.

Betty poured a cup of freshly brewed tea, then hastily turned to leave. Once he confirmed she was gone, Noah picked up the newspaper he’d flung aside and sat in front of his still-steaming breakfast.

Though he was sipping hot tea in the midsummer weather, it was not enough to thaw his perpetually frosty gaze as he stared at his uncle’s picture. He glowered at the snapshot for a moment before turning the page.

He, the prince, had shown his face at a whole seven events, but there were pathetically few mentions of his name. “All that work for nothing,” he murmured savagely. Just as he was about to clamp the newspaper shut, a headline caught his eye.

Olivia Liberty, Herolington University Valedictorian, Becomes Guest of Faulder’s First Lady

His eyes trailed down to the article. In a photograph smaller than his palm, a rather young and pretty woman in a neat blouse and flared skirt was smiling bashfully as she stood beside Noah’s aunt, Professor Margaret.

“Valedictorian of Herolington University... Olivia Liberty...” As he sounded out her name, he heard someone frantically running toward his room. A crease formed in his smooth brow.

Following a manic series of knocks, the door burst open and his secretary Messon barged into the room.

Before the man could say anything, Noah put down the newspaper and got to his feet. “Ten minutes,” he said.

Messon promptly spun around and retreated without a word. As the door closed behind him, Noah pulled a rope to ring a bell and summon a servant.

* * *

It was said that the face and body can make or break an outfit. But even with such a perfect face and body, how had the prince managed to pull off such a flawless look in only a matter of ten minutes?

Dressed in an impeccable white naval uniform, Noah sat up straight in his carriage seat, reviewing some documents. His honey-colored hair, slicked back with pomade, glistened under the sunlight streaming in from the windows.

Lowering his gaze to avoid the dazzling light, Messon watched the prince sign a document in fluid cursive. Even his signature looks elegant. I’d make some good money if I could take a snapshot of this moment and sell it. Of course, he’d kill me before I got that far.

Sensing his secretary’s stare, the prince snapped his head up and glared back. “What is it?” His rigid, orderly attitude was laced with a prickly edge.

Messon hurriedly shook his head. “Are you finished, Your Highness?”

Tucking his fountain pen into his breast pocket, Noah handed over the documents.

“Wilhelm is setting up a new branch in the capital,” reported Messon. “I’ll increase your investments.”

“By twenty percent,” Noah answered brusquely.

“Yes, Your Highness. And today you have events scheduled for four o’clock, five thirty, and seven o’clock. Three appearances in total.”

Noah swore under his breath, but the secretary pretended not to hear as he blithely continued. “You’ll need to head straight to the navy headquarters from the palace. I shall come at half past three to escort you.”

“No, there’s no need,” Noah muttered. “Don’t bother.”

“You know I must,” Messon said with a shrug.

The prince dully stared out the window in silence. Three more events today... Unbelievable. He wanted to keep the press at bay at whatever cost and avoid the king’s wrath. But it meant a relentless schedule of events—not only today, but tomorrow, and the day after that, and every day for the foreseeable future.

When he could see the decorative golden window grates of the Herod Kingdom palace, he turned to Messon. “Have you heard the name ‘Olivia Liberty?’”

The secretary looked up from his newspaper. “Of course, Your Highness. I don’t think there’s a single person in Herod who hasn’t. She’s quite sensational, isn’t she?” He pointed to her picture, printed alongside an article on her that he just so happened to be reading.

Noah snorted in dismay. “You call that picture sensational? Perhaps you need your eyes checked.”

“She’s the youngest ever commoner from Herod to be accepted at Herolington University, and the very first female student, and a valedictorian!” Messon replied earnestly, counting off on his fingers. “That’s impressive as it is, but take a look at her face! To be honest, no one would normally care to read about a university student all the way over in Faulder. But why do you think all the papers are featuring her, while they won’t even cover Your Highness despite the seven events you attended?”

Noah shot him a murderous look.

The secretary, who’d gotten carried away and was now holding up seven fingers, hastily dropped his eyes and apologized. “Forgive me, Your Highness.”

“What exactly are you trying to say, Messon?” The prince’s voice was dangerously cold.

Casting him a nervous glance, Messon mumbled, “Just that she’s popular, Your Highness. Everyone has heard of Olivia Liberty. And only good things, too. Oh, here, Princess Margaret looks quite beautiful in this picture, doesn’t she?” He sheepishly pointed to the woman standing next to Olivia in the photograph.

At that moment, the carriage passed through the golden gates of the palace.

Noah felt suffocated already. Goddamn it. Why did he have to be brought here to mop up this mess? The more he thought about it, the more incensed he felt.