"Everyone," the emperor said, his voice calm and warm, "as you all may know, today my dearest daughter has turned eight."

Emperor Gray von Indrath smiled gently as he raised the wine glass in his hand.

It was only half full, yet he held it with great care.

Beside him stood his wife, the empress, her smile soft and proud as she looked at their child.

In front of them stood a young girl, around eight years old.

She had bright red hair and sharp red eyes.

Her back was straight, her chin slightly raised.

Her expression was extremely arrogant, and on her small nose sat a pride so strong that it could not be ignored.

Even at such a young age, her presence was impossible to miss.

"I hope all of you will bless my daughter," the emperor continued, "and also the princess of the Indrath Empire, Charlotte von Indrath."

As he spoke, his eyes slowly moved across the grand hall.

Nobles of every rank were present, from the lowest to the highest.

Soft music filled the air, and golden lights reflected off polished floors and fine clothes.

His gaze then stopped on his three sons, who were standing among groups of high-ranking nobles, speaking with confidence as they tried to gain support and favor.

After a moment, the emperor looked away from them and turned back to the crowd.

His smile returned, calm and steady.

"Now," he said, lifting his glass slightly, "everyone, you may enjoy the celebration."

With those words, the hall grew lively.

Music grew louder, servants moved swiftly, and the grand celebration truly began.

Meanwhile, Vivian stood in the middle of the hall, holding his mother's hand tightly.

Beside him, his father was busy talking with other nobles, his voice calm and polite.

His mother, Elena, was also speaking with her friends, a warm smile on her face as she laughed softly.

Vivian stayed quiet, but his heart was not calm at all.

From the corner of his eyes, he could see her.

The evil princess.

She was looking straight at him.

Cold sweat appeared on his face.

His small fingers tightened around his mother's hand as he tried his best not to look at the princess.

Instead, he forced his eyes toward his mother, who was still talking happily, unaware of his fear.

After some time, the music grew a little louder.

Elena's friends soon said their goodbyes and walked away.

Elena then turned to Vivian and bent slightly so she could see his face clearly.

"Have you found your dance partner?" she asked gently.

Her eyes softened when she saw his face, which was covered in sweat.

"I don't want to dance," Vivian said quietly.

Elena blinked in surprise.

"Why? Don't you like anyone here?" she asked as she pulled out a clean handkerchief from her subspace.

She carefully wiped the sweat from his forehead and cheeks.

"You can ask Count Paper's daughter," she added with a smile.

"Look, she's looking at you."

She gestured to the side.

Vivian glanced over and saw a beautiful girl in a blue dress staring in their direction

The moment Elena pointed at her, the girl quickly turned her head away, her face turning slightly red.

Vivian quickly pulled his gaze back and shook his head.

"I'm not going to dance," he said firmly. "I will stay here and watch you and father dance."

Elena paused for a moment, then smiled softly.

She gently patted his head, understanding his choice, while the music continued to fill the grand hall around them.

After that, Vivian stayed behind while his mother and father stepped onto the dance floor.

In the grand hall, the two of them could easily be called the most graceful couple present.

Their movements were calm and smooth, and before long, they drew everyone's attention toward them.

Vivian, who had just been filled with fear because of the evil princess, felt his face brighten.

He forgot his worries for a moment and happily cheered for his parents, his small hands clapping softly.

While most people were busy finding dance partners, someone did something bold.

"May I have this dance with you, Princess?"

The sudden voice caught Vivian's attention.

He turned his head and saw a boy around his own age standing before the evil princess.

Vivian recognized him at once.

Kafrik Tramplin.

Vivian didn't care what would happen to him.

He turned back and continued cheering for his parents, who were still dancing beautifully.

Then a cold snort echoed from the princess's side.

"You are not worthy," she said in a sharp voice.

"In fact, nobody in this whole hall is worthy of dancing with me."

Kafrik's face turned pale.

Shame and humiliation were clear on his face as he stood frozen in place.

"Lucky guy," Vivian muttered quietly as he shifted his gaze away.

But the princess spoke again.

"In this hall," she said slowly, her voice filled with arrogance, "only one person is worthy."

Vivian heard her words and felt a strange chill.

He silently prayed for whoever that poor person might be.

He didn't notice the evil princess moving through the crowd with confident steps, heading straight toward him.

Vivian clasped his hands together and muttered, "God help that poor guy who is going to get chosen by the evil princ—"

"Hey, you."

The voice was close. Too close.

Vivian froze.

"I don't know what your name is," the princess said, her tone cold and commanding, "but you will dance with me."

It wasn't a request. It was an order.

"Huh?"

Vivian froze.

For a brief moment, it felt as if the entire hall froze with him.

The music continued, yet no one moved.

His mother, who had been dancing happily just seconds ago, suddenly stopped.

Worry filled her eyes as she looked at her son.

She took a step forward, ready to rush to him, but his father gently stopped her.

He shook his head and gave her a calm, reassuring smile, telling her to trust him.

But before Vivian could even understand what was happening, the evil princess grabbed his arm and dragged him onto the dance floor.

"Give me your hand," she said coldly.

Before Vivian could speak, she took his hand herself and pulled him closer.

She began to dance without waiting for his answer, her movements confident and proud.

Slowly, the stiff and silent hall returned to its earlier cheer.

People began dancing again, laughter and music filling the air once more.

To everyone else, it looked like a normal dance.

But Vivian was anything but normal.

His body was stiff, his steps awkward. His mind was in complete chaos.

He did not understand why this was happening or why he had been chosen.

His heart beat fast, yet he did not dare say a single word.

The princess's grip on his hand was firm, leaving no room for refusal.

So he danced.

He followed her steps as best as he could, his eyes lowered, counting the seconds in his head and praying for the music to end.

Finally, the music stopped.

Everyone came to a halt.

Charlotte released his hand and stepped forward.

She clapped her hands together once, the sharp sound cutting through the hall and drawing everyone's attention toward her.

Silence slowly returned, and all eyes turned to the princess.

She then took a sharp breath.

With confidence that felt far too heavy for an eight-year-old, she said something no child her age should ever say.

"From today onward, he is mine. Mine alone," Charlotte declared. "If anyone has any objections, then keep your mouths shut."

The moment those words left her mouth, the hall grew even quieter than before. It felt as if the air itself had frozen.

Vivian's face turned pale, almost white.

He did not understand what was happening, not even a little.

His mind was blank, and his chest felt tight. His eyes began to glisten as tears slowly gathered.

But Charlotte was not done.

She turned toward Vined and Elena and spoke again, her voice calm and firm.

"From today, you are my father and mother," she said. "Please treat me well."

She then bowed to them.

Vined forced an awkward smile, not knowing how to respond.

Elena, however, stood frozen.

Shock was clearly written all over her face, her lips trembling as she stared at the princess.

At that moment, Vivian could not bear it any longer.

Tears finally spilled down his cheeks.

"Mom!" he cried out.

He broke free and started running.

But instead of running toward his mother, instead of going to the place where he should have felt safe, Vivian turned away—

And rushed straight out of the palace.

Everyone in the hall stood stunned.

Shock was written on every face, and not a single person dared to speak.

The air felt heavy, as if something terrible had just been decided without anyone's consent.

But among all those shocked faces, there was one pair of eyes filled with pure killing intent.

Ravan Tramplin.

He stood still, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

His teeth ground against each other as he stared at his son, who stood there completely devastated, his head lowered in shame.

Ravan's eyes were cold and cruel.

"Useless piece of trash," he muttered under his breath.

The words carried no warmth, no care, only anger and disgust, as his gaze remained fixed on his broken son.

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