First Kiss (1)
“Hear me, wise ones who have chosen this place!”
Asella’s speech began. She had memorized the carefully crafted script perfectly in her mind. She enunciated each word with deliberate force, striking with intensity. As her words flowed, every noble in attendance fixed their gaze on her, as if entranced. Being heirs of prestigious houses, they were all keenly attuned to politics. Instinctively, they all sensed Asella’s charisma.
“Therefore, as the rightful heir bearing the blood of Württemberg, I hereby declare before you all that I will strive to become the next emperor!”
Applause erupted at Asella’s proclamation. Some offered trust, others doubt, and still more appraisal. Feeling every one of those gazes, Asella knew intuitively: to win them over, she needed to leave a powerful impression now. Right now.
“I shall!”
The audience leaned in at her bold cry.
“Bring a new wind to the empire.”
A new wind. The empire’s high offices were filled with veterans of the conquest wars. Asella’s words carried a fierce intent to replace them with the young nobles gathered here—a generational shift.
“It is a loss to the empire when talent is buried. Those with ability who contribute to the empire’s growth shall be duly respected, and their rewards fitting.”
Asella’s pledge promised a stage for young talents to shine and the status to match.
“But what can one gain from it? What ultimate prize awaits those who devote themselves to the empire?”
The nobles listened intently, awaiting her next words.
“Shvartsshubaiku.”
Asella called out to Frieda, who looked startled and bowed her head slightly.
Asella turned her gaze. “Makenzen, Iairbern, Liebert, Bering, Trota, Rista, Gotberg.”
She remembered every family name among those present. Each time she named one, they bowed, swept up in a strange sense of belonging—as if they were already riding the same ship as supporters of Moonlight Palace. Just calling their names made her words feel enchanted, more potent.
Neria, too, lost herself in Asella’s commanding presence and bowed her head.
Having named every noble there without missing a one, Asella paused dramatically before uttering the word.
“Freedom.”
Not wealth or honor, but this unexpected word startled the nobles.
“We are trapped in a stable for horses. Bound by our houses, by duty, racing toward success in every contest.”
Every young noble there nodded in empathy. The burden of running a preordained path to success from birth. Any deviation branded them wastrels. Even life partners were chosen by the family before they came of age. They all yearned to step out of stuffy mansions and make even one choice of their own will.
Sensing their desires, Asella narrowed her eyes and flashed a devilish smile.
“Pledge your loyalty. Devote yourselves, and I shall grant you all the freedom you desire.”
It was a radical statement. The current empire operated under strict central control. Local houses had even their knight orders limited in number, and talented individuals were summoned to the capital. Asella was declaring she would revolutionize that system.
The word “freedom” ignited imaginations. Some envisioned growing their territories’ wealth, others forming elite knight orders rivaling the imperial guard. But those gathered here ranged from mid-teens to late twenties—many fresh in high society. Their top concern was one thing: romance.
Most couldn’t pursue free love. Betrothals were arranged in childhood, leaving no time for other ladies or lords amid duties. Commoners weren’t even options—interacting with them rationally risked family disgrace. Plenty secretly envied commoners’ free courtships and marriages.
And Asella scratched that itch.
“Forced betrothals by family will end. I shall enact laws nullifying inter-house contracts disguised as engagements.”
Many perked up at her words. Plenty here were bound by political betrothals, their futures shackled. If Asella became emperor, they’d gain the freedom she promised.
“Once the two parties’ consent is confirmed, marriage will be possible without family approval.”
Her words painted entirely new futures for them.
“I shall also lower the marriage age limit to eighteen.”
The nobles showed keen interest in these unprecedented proposals from any heir. Young as they were, provocative promises outshone practical ones. Asella exploited that flawlessly. She’d give them the illusion of freedom while binding them tight.
“Asella von Württemberg will do it.”
She concluded with firm resolve. Excited applause poured forth. Without doubt, Moonlight Palace had gained many supporters.
Phew.
Asella took a deep breath inwardly. She’d been a bit tense, but pulled it off without a hitch.
The problem is…
Her speech had one glaring flaw. She herself was in a political betrothal with Gotberg. How could she overcome her own family’s chains yet promise to free others? It rang hollow.
That’s why holding the formal betrothal with Ras here was crucial. It would foster solidarity—that she chased freedom alongside them—and show leadership by example. Their engagement would dominate society gossip alongside her speech.
But.
Ras still hadn’t arrived.
“Your Highness! Is the betrothal next?”
Frieda called out amid the brightened mood.
“Ah, now it’s time for the main event!”
“Does that include the pledge you mentioned?”
“Falling deeply in love with that chief physician of yours!”
“Oh my, what a touching story.”
The ladies giggled, fabricating Asella’s love story. The other nobles brimmed with anticipation too.
That oversized mouth of hers—why’s it so loose?
Asella inwardly cursed Frieda.
I planned to slip out and buy time.
The fired-up nobles requested romantic tunes from the orchestra. Soft melodies filled the air, met with refined cheers. With youth gathered for a festive betrothal, the mood was inevitable.
Asella glanced at her head maid, who sadly shook her head.
Ras!
Asella bit her lip unconsciously. The limit had come.
If she didn’t segue straight to the betrothal after all that hype, rumors would spread like wildfire. Ruining the hard-built atmosphere would make her a braggart. Today’s speech would backfire spectacularly.
Ras…
Why was disappointment the first emotion, not anger or resentment? Asella realized instantly. No one—not Frieda, not Rauga—anticipated today’s betrothal more than she did herself.
Standing frozen on the balcony, time dragged colorless. The background music neared its end. Everyone began sharing her unease. Negative vibes spread subtly, laughter fading. No one chattered on, eyeing her warily, but all sensed it: something was wrong. Otherwise, the boldly orating Asella wouldn’t stand there blankly.
This is it.
Ras wasn’t coming. She knew it was an emergency, that he had reasons. Still, the blooming disappointment in her chest felt natural. Shame would follow soon, she sensed, clenching her fists.
…No choice but to postpone the ceremony.
Her trembling lashes drooped.
“The betrothal will—”
Be held later. As she opened her mouth—
—Bang!
The banquet hall’s grand doors flew open.
“Aigoo.”
The entering man wiped sweat from his brow, slumping against the door. He panted heavily, clearly having run in haste. His tuxedo was a mess—one shirttail tucked haphazardly. His face, unwashed and unpowdered, was streaked with grime.
Ha.
Yet he summoned his last strength and staggered forward. Toward the central stairs to Asella’s balcony. The clustered nobles parted left and right, clearing his path.
With each step up the stairs, Asella’s heart pounded in sync. His face drew nearer. And finally.
Whew.
Ras stood before Asella. Their eyes met. Though he said nothing, Asella read volumes in his gaze.
“Princess Asella von Württemberg.”
He drew something from his inner pocket and dropped to one knee. A small case. Opening it revealed a simple yet striking ring.
“If there is one greatest fortune in my life, it is that I could pledge all my remaining time to you.”
Asella pressed her lips tight, unable to reply. They’d rehearsed this betrothal vow. Even if he’d improvised, she had no words. Instead, she silently extended her left hand.
In answer, Ras slipped the ring onto her ring finger. He rose slowly, flashing her a grin.
Forgive me, his innocent smile pleaded. Seeing it boiled Asella’s mind—or was it the blood surging in her heart?
Asella yanked his necktie roughly, pulling him toward her. Ras had no time to react, his head bowing. She charged forward without retreat.
Contact lasted about one and a fifth seconds. A light kiss, just lips brushing. Then Asella shoved him back.
“That’s payment enough.”
The audience’s fervent cheers exploded.