"Celicia, can you put me down now?"

After being carried for two blocks, Moen finally lost his patience and spoke seriously.

Although being lifted by the collar allowed him to feel the soft touch of the small hand on the back of his neck—a sensation that was quite pleasant—such a posture was utterly humiliating for someone of his status as the son of a duke.

Even if you’re a princess, Celicia, you can’t just humiliate me like this...

"What? Got a problem with me?"

Celicia lowered her head, her cool gaze sweeping over Moen.

"No, none at all."

Moen flashed a sincere and peaceful smile. "How could I possibly have any complaints? My legs just happen to feel a bit weak at the moment. Having someone help me walk is something I couldn't be more grateful for."

"Is that so? Are your legs still weak now?"

Celicia glanced down briefly, her expression slightly enigmatic.

"No, not weak at all!"

Moen instinctively stiffened, immediately breaking free from Celicia’s hand and hopping in place a few times.

"I feel full of strength, brimming with energy! I could climb ten flights of stairs without even breaking a sweat!"

"Good to hear."

Celicia released him. "Walk on your own, then."

With that, she continued strolling ahead at a leisurely pace.

Celicia, dressed in a flowing white gown, walked gracefully down the deserted street under the deep night sky. As her light steps occasionally sent her skirt billowing, she resembled a cloud moving unpredictably, carried away by a gentle breeze.

How beautiful.

Moen let out a sigh, much like Anna did.

The young woman before him was merely walking, yet the unintentional elegance she exuded was enough to make the majestic city under the night seem lackluster.

Moen stared at her breathtakingly beautiful silhouette for a long moment before snapping back to his senses and striding to catch up.

Adjusting his pace to walk beside her, Moen carefully stole sidelong glances at the princess's profile. As ever, her perfect, delicate face was expressionless, as though enshrouded in a glaze of frost that hadn’t melted in a thousand years.

"Uh... are you angry?"

Seeing that Celicia remained silent, Moen tentatively inquired.

"Angry?"

Celicia finally paused, if only briefly. "Why would I be angry?"

"Well..."

Moen scratched his cheek awkwardly. "Because of what you saw earlier?"

"Earlier?"

Celicia’s gaze flickered slightly. "And what about earlier was worth getting angry over?"

"Uh..."

Moen was at a loss for words when he noticed Celicia turn to look at him. Her flawless face had a faint air of mockery.

"Don’t tell me you think I’m jealous, my dear fiancé?"

"Of course not..." Moen chuckled sheepishly.

"Definitely not."

Celicia slightly tilted her pale neck, carrying herself like a proud swan.

She was Celicia.

She was the princess of the nation.

She bore her pride and dignity.

To fight for a man? To feel jealousy?

Such things could never be associated with the name Celicia.

Even if she ceased to be a princess someday, even if Moen Campbell somehow became exceptional enough to fully capture her attention, even if he were truly snatched away by another woman, she would never, ever consider engaging in such petty behavior.

Never ever.

"I only did that to remind you of something."

"Remind me?"

"Moen Campbell, the news of our impending engagement has already spread throughout Belland. I’d warn you not to act so inappropriately with other women in broad daylight; it’s a disgrace to the royal family.

"Many eyes are watching you now—watching the Campbell family. Don’t blame me if whispers about you sullying the royal family’s honor reach my father, and punishment follows as a result. Consider this your fair warning."

"Truly, of course."

Moen awkwardly scratched his head.

He really hadn’t thought about it from that angle.

Now that he considered it, the engagement announcement had undoubtedly turned the Campbell family into the center of attention among Belland’s nobility.

In such a situation, caution was undoubtedly warranted.

But...

If broad daylight didn’t work, surely being discreet was fine, right?

Moen stroked his chin... suddenly feeling a rush of excitement.

Somehow, this felt even more thrilling.

...

"That reminds me, Celicia—are you okay with this?"

"...What are you talking about?"

"This engagement."

After a brief moment of excitement, Moen composed himself again, considering Celicia’s perspective.

"I remember you weren’t very happy about this engagement."

Moen gazed into Celicia’s eyes with a serious expression.

"If it’s just an engagement, there’s still room for things to change. But once the betrothal ceremony is formalized, you’ll never be able to break free from the name Campbell for the rest of your life."

The betrothal ceremony wasn’t merely symbolic; it was contractual. In the empire, this ceremony carried a sacred, binding power.

Once it was formalized, people would no longer see her solely as the princess. She would also bear the label of the future Duchess of Campbell.

"So, you’re thinking about this... for my sake?"

Apparently surprised by Moen’s words, Celicia turned her head slightly, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"Of course."

Without flinching under Celicia’s gaze, Moen replied earnestly.

"I want to hear your true thoughts."

In the original story, Celicia had never been one to be bound by things like engagements or titles. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have captivated Moen so deeply.

She had always outwardly shown indifference to the engagement... because she truly didn’t care about it.

If she disliked her betrothed, she would have sooner plunged a sword into the original Moen than marry him.

So, for her to show up unexpectedly and say what she did—how could Moen not be surprised?

"Heh."

Celicia suddenly let out a soft chuckle.

"To hear such words from the same person who did something so outrageous to me—should I laugh or feel moved?"

"Ugh..."

Caught completely off guard by her reference to past grievances, Moen nearly coughed up blood. With a defeated look, he muttered:

"If I told you that was just an accident. Would you believe me?"

Celicia offered no direct response. Instead, she shifted the conversation.

"As you’ve already guessed, if I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t hesitate to stab you through the heart rather than marry you."

"But."

"But?"

"But I am, after all, a princess of this nation."

Celicia suddenly turned, gazing out at the city, its grandeur obscured yet not diminished under the heavy shroud of night.

She had been born here, raised here, and carried with her the expectations of many. Naturally, she had responsibilities to assume.

The title of princess brought her not only privileges and status but also immense obligations.

"Though I’d never allow myself to be merely a tool, if I could find a balance between my personal preferences and the broader interests of this country, I think I wouldn’t refuse. After all..."

Celicia turned back, her silver hair dancing in the breeze, her icy gaze resting deeply on Moen.

"You’re not that annoying now, are you?"