A Prince's Feverish Desire
Angela had stayed up most of the night wrestling with her worries and only finally managed to drift into a restless doze. Just as she was beginning to fall asleep, White tugged at her arm and hauled her upright. The sun had barely crested the horizon.
Across the empire, Roung had been clashing blades with his knights since dawn, sweat soaking through his tunic while he forced his body to endure the merciless rhythm of combat training.
Even the Marquis Lascaci estate, usually so quiet at this hour, blazed with light. Every lamp and candle had been lit long before the usual early-morning routine.
Marquis Andes Lascaci had never been one to rise at the crack of dawn. He preferred to open his eyes around nine, break his fast, sip tea, and allow his mind to sharpen before tackling the day’s burdens.
Yet today was different.
The servants themselves had noticed the unnatural hour when they summoned him. The first face he saw was Bianca’s.
Anyone who could completely upend their daily schedule deserved to be shocked to the core. The servants exchanged no words, but their eyes spoke volumes of shared unease.
“My lord, the young miss is here.”
“Show her in.”
The door opened. Bianca stepped through.
Even at this hour she looked untouched. Her golden curls were immaculate, her gown flawless, her steps measured and confident. She was the very picture of a noble daughter—thorough, polished, and perfect.
Andes felt a strange twist of irritation in his chest the instant he saw her. She had grown so well. Too well. The discomfort was all the sharper for it.
To have raised such a daughter only for one rumor from the outside world to threaten her market value was infuriating.
“I heard about the incident at last night’s ball.”
“...Yes.”
Bianca answered in a clipped tone. She offered no excuses.
If she had been bitten by a mad dog, the fault lay with the animal. But this was noble society, and nobility answered to rules far older and crueler than simple logic. A noble child’s reputation must always remain pristine, regardless of any actual wrong done. Any crack in that flawless image would reflect badly on the family.
“You were at the ball, correct? And you drew the prince’s attention despite his danger.”
“Yes. That is correct.”
The Lascaci family had been closely allied with the First Prince, Manuel. There was no reason to side with the Second Prince, Roung. Andes had been quietly narrowing his daughter’s marriage prospects, pruning the list of suitable houses and preparing to speak openly with an engagement soon.
This ball incident had shattered that entire plan.
Bianca herself remained unmarred in body or spirit. Her appearance and bearing were flawless; her temperament stayed icy, and she had committed no major blunder.
The problem was the external perception.
“The Goldren young miss was the one who saved you. Even if the prince seemed in peril, you should have escaped the situation yourself.”
Bianca had not deliberately engineered the scene. Still, the outside world had seen what it had seen.
She had become entangled with Roung and almost lost her honor, and the rescuer was a commoner’s daughter from the Goldren family—hardly the kind of name that would be accepted in proper noble circles.
Once a reputation was stained, no one wanted to touch it. Especially not in marriage.
House after house had begun to cool their interest in Bianca.
“In the end, we’ll have to consider your brother first for the engagement.”
“Understood.”
No hesitation. No tremor.
Andes sighed, long and heavy, the sound carrying the weight of his frustration.
“Is there nothing else you wish to say?”
Bianca lowered her gaze for a moment, then spoke, voice barely above a whisper.
“...I am sorry, Father.”
Andes closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.
“Huu... No. You did nothing wrong.”
The words were only half true. No matter how one raised a child like a tool, years of shared life inevitably bred affection. His anger now burned hotter for Roung and Angela than for his own daughter.
He pressed a hand to his forehead and muttered,
“We need to remove Roung from the scene before I lose my mind.”
Bianca’s eyes flickered with the faintest shift.
“...Have you received word of something troubling?”
Her tone was concerned, yet beneath it lay a delicate thread of interest in Roung.
Andes missed it entirely and continued.
“A decree has been issued. The imperial demesnes, including the entire northeastern region ruled by the Rosefield family, are to be granted wholesale to Prince Roung.”
“That... is an enormous amount of land.”
Bianca’s composure cracked slightly.
The emperor was not a god. He ruled over nobles yet remained a sovereign who needed their loyalty. Nobles and emperor had always played their tug-of-war, each side straining for even a sliver of advantage. Still, the emperor held one undeniable strength: unity.
Nobles scattered, tearing at one another. The emperor alone wielded a vast banner of legitimacy.
In theory his lands encompassed the entire empire, and in practice he could seize any territory for any reason. Crownless lands. Lands belonging to families with imperial blood. Lands offering the emperor a pretext to intervene. These demesnes made up nearly a quarter of the nation.
Now he was carving off almost a quarter of that share for the Second Prince.
“Is that truly wise?”
“His Majesty has already approved it, and Prince Manuel has not openly opposed the plan.”
Bianca closed her lips in silence.
After the assassination attempt, the emperor and First Prince had swallowed their pride and remained silent in order to preserve imperial strength. In the aftermath, several houses had surrendered their leaders and their territories had been folded directly into imperial demesnes. It had not looked like a purge on the surface, but the invisible blade had already carved through countless families.
Now the emperor wanted to cut away the very power he had once bolstered?
Andes spoke quietly.
“I know what you’re thinking. But if the nobles see the emperor repeatedly taking back the lands he just granted, resentment will fester. Even if Prince Manuel commands it, the precedent will weigh heavily against him.”
Andes shook his head.
“Prince Manuel intends to persuade everyone. He does not wish to leave behind the precedent of forcing his will.”
Success would certainly make him seem wise. But Andes saw little chance of it succeeding. This was no eastern kingdom where bloodline alone decided everything. This was a feudal realm. If a prince forced the issue, the nobles would one day reclaim their land with new legitimacy. The emperor had once forced the issue; now the emperor must yield.
Andes regarded the matter as one that no amount of words would resolve. Yet pushing with force would harm the weakened Manuel. It was a sticky, dangerous knot.
Bianca spoke again.
“...Then perhaps we should ask for Prince Roung’s help.”
Andes’s gaze snapped up.
“What?”
The very man at the center of this tangled mess was Roung, and she wanted him to solve it?
“What kind of nonsense is that?”
Bianca remained unmoved.
“If we frame it as something Roung forced from the emperor rather than something Manuel bestowed, there will be no legitimacy issue.”
Andes stayed silent, chewing the idea over and over in his mind.
Land given away after negotiation carried little future claim. Land seized by force, however, created an ironclad right that could never be dismissed.
If Roung tore the territory from imperial hands in such a way, then even though Manuel appeared to lose now, the bloodline would one day have legitimate grounds to reclaim it. The emperor himself seized lands under the banner of legitimacy. If a prince could do the same, then a prince could take it back the same way.
Andes’s eyes began to change.
“That is a good thought. If we cooperate with Prince Roung, Prince Manuel will have to move directly himself.”
Yet Bianca surprised him.
“No. I will do it.”
Andes paused.
Most young ladies who suffered such an entanglement would flee Roung’s presence. They would tremble and avoid him. But Bianca was declaring she would face him head-on.
“Meeting him directly would be far more effective in silencing the gossip.”
Andes smiled slowly, a genuine curve of his lips.
“Straight to the point. A noble approach.”
People said nobles loved political cunning and intrigue. That was true. They enjoyed the thrill of gaining much with little risk. But what nobles truly adored was something simpler.
The unbowed pride that never lowered its head even before the emperor.
The fearless stride into the light rather than hiding in shadows. The attitude of a true strong one.
Coming out on top in a fair duel was a storybook scene. Yet when reality produced such a moment, everyone watched in awe.
A true strong one did not need to hide to win.
The Lascaci family was strong. But it was not absolute enough to carry everything alone. Therefore, Bianca’s bold appearance would grant the house its own legitimacy and heroic standing.
Andes looked at his daughter and asked,
“Are you not afraid?”
Bianca took a steadying breath.
The memory of that moment alone with Roung rose before her. Even now her chest tightened and her body stiffened.
The prince’s eyes. The dangerous aura. The crushing pressure that could swallow her whole with a single mistake.
She had not grown used to it. Yet she could not keep avoiding him forever.
Roung would leave someday. She had to settle the matter before he did.
Bianca answered quietly.
“...I am fine.”
Andes nodded slowly.
“Good. I will send a letter.”
Yet Bianca did not stop there.
“And... I would also like to meet with Angela. Or rather, the young miss of the Goldren family.”
“Both of them together?”
“Yes. If I meet Prince Roung alone, suspicions will arise. But if I am with the two young ladies already entangled with him, no one will be able to point a finger.”
Andes exhaled in genuine admiration once more.
That was indeed true. A meeting between Roung and Bianca alone would breed only gossip. Add Angela, and the situation changed entirely. Three people linked by the ball. A politically acceptable scene of reconciliation. Any observer would find the legitimacy obvious.
“...Very well. I trust you.”
Andes smiled, relieved, and gave Bianca’s shoulder a light pat.
Bianca returned the smile.
From the outside, everything looked perfect. Calm, composed, and a daughter ready to act for the sake of the family. Yet something in the corner of her heart remained uneasy.
She had not spoken her true feelings to her father just now. She had hidden something. Something small. Something dangerously small.
‘It is only a momentary fever.’
Bianca repeated the words in her mind.
‘Just because I felt a little shaken does not mean it is real.’
She would return to her usual mask. The composed noble daughter’s face. The unflappable Lascaci daughter. The successor who would never lose her dignity. Eventually this feeling would pass. After it did, it would simply become a brief memory, like a fever that had passed.
...She wanted to believe that.