I wasn't going to cry over spilled milk.

I didn't care if they hated me. They weren't my real family. I never asked to be reincarnated into this body, so I wasn't about to beg for their love. Let them wallow in their misery. I'd live my life my way—and I'd do it as best as I could.

If I couldn't have their affection, then I'd take their money.

I was a princess, for crying out loud! I was filthy rich. My clothes alone were worth more than a year's salary in my old life. The jewels scattered around my room could probably buy my entire old apartment building.

Didn't I deserve to spend like a spoiled noblewoman?

It wasn't like I could ever drain the Duchy's wealth completely, so why bother holding back? I'd make those bastards sick of signing checks in my name.

That would be their punishment.

So I told Betia I was hungry and wanted a feast. Not just any meal—I wanted enough food to fill my entire room. I even joked that I'd eat a dragon if they served one to me. Betia, wide-eyed with panic, stammered that hunting dragons for their meat was strictly forbidden.

I had only been joking—well, half-joking—but her reaction confirmed something far more interesting: mythical creatures existed in this world.

What other creatures might exist here?

For now, I had to settle for boring old beef—or something like it. The cows in this world were massive. But they were also delicious. I wasn't sure if it was the quality of the meat or the skill of the mansion's chefs, but I had never tasted anything so exquisite in my entire life.

The flavors were so intense, so perfectly seasoned, that they overwhelmed my senses completely. Daira, my friend, how could anyone living here even think of dieting?

The next day brought more of the same: meat and pastries, even for breakfast. I told myself it was necessary. My body needed to fully recover from the accident. I needed to rebuild my strength if I was ever going to venture outside.

Did sports exist in this world? I thought they might. And if not, how hard could it be to invent a ball? I'd always wanted to join a sports club, but after the war, prices had skyrocketed. Only the rich could afford hobbies like that.

Well, guess what? Now I was filthy rich!

Apparently, I had to be reborn to achieve financial success. I could spend the rest of my life as a lazy bum and no one would care. Honestly, my family hated me so much that they'd probably send me to a countryside mansion just to get rid of me. Fine by me—I'd live out my days in luxury and never have to see their faces again.

"I see you're in a very good mood, Princess," Betia commented.

"Do you think so?" I smiled at her.

Betia and I were in my room, where she was carefully pouring my midday tea.

"Yes. I've never seen you so happy since I started working here."

"And how long have you been working here?" I asked, curious.

"A few months. When I turned fourteen, I applied for a maid's position here at the mansion."

Now it all made sense. Betia was the only maid who didn't look at me with disgust. She had never known my mother, so she had no reason to resent me.

She was the only one who didn't hate me for being born.

Perhaps Betia was the only person in the entire mansion truly capable of being my personal maid. Despite knowing the tragedy of Thamel, she always treated me with kindness. Even if it was just part of her job, the girl used her common sense and chose not to behave like a bully, unlike the rest of the staff.

Maybe Daira's last months hadn't been quite as dark, thanks to her.

"Betia..."

"Princess, you have a visitor."

We were interrupted by the sudden arrival of another maid. Without warning, she barged into my room, speaking to me without so much as an apology. She didn't curtsy, and her tone was anything but respectful. She looked me directly in the eye with open arrogance.

"You should have knocked before coming in," I said, frowning.

"My fault, but you must hurry to the guest lounge."

Another insult. Instead of admitting her mistake, she brushed it off with a mocking tone, as if my complaint didn't matter in the slightest.

And it sounded less like a request and more like an order.

I decided not to make a fuss. I was curious to see who had come to visit the so-called cursed Princess of Thamel. It couldn't be a friend—Betia had told me Daira didn't have any. In all the months she'd served me, no noblewoman had ever visited.

It couldn't be family, either. The only relatives I had were Belmont and the Duke, and neither would bother coming to my room unless they had a reason to berate me.

So I was clueless.

My nerves grew as I walked with Betia and the other rude maid. Who could it be? Someone with evil intentions, waiting for me on the other side? Or—dare I hope—a prince charming, ready to sweep me off my feet and declare his undying love?

No. Not a chance. After all, I was—

"Daira!"

Surprise.

The last thing I expected happened.

As soon as the door to the guest lounge opened, a man leapt toward me, shouting my name and pulling me into a tight embrace.

I froze. It all happened too quickly. But strangely, my body didn't reject him. On the contrary, a comforting warmth spread across my skin, wrapping around me like a blanket. My heart trembled violently in my chest.

"Forgive me, Daira, but I couldn't resist the joy of seeing you."

When he finally released me, I got a proper look at him.

It was a boy.

A boy so stunningly beautiful, he didn't seem real. He looked like he had stepped straight out of a fairy tale—a prince sent to rescue a princess in distress.

And that's exactly what he was. A prince.

His clothes were exquisite, adorned with glittering jewels that caught the light. Every detail of his outfit spoke of elegance and status, designed for formal occasions of the highest importance. Gold, light blue, and white dominated the ensemble, but my gaze was drawn to a large gemstone resting on his chest. Its color—a vivid turquoise—matched his eyes perfectly.

His breathtakingly beautiful eyes.

I couldn't look away, completely captivated by the boy's appearance. He was too perfect to be real. His hair glistened like threads of pure gold. His flawless skin looked untouched by hardship, unmarked by pain. His smile revealed perfectly aligned, pearl-white teeth.

And his eyes... they were like jewels, reflecting the grandeur of the sky and the boundless depths of the ocean.

If magic existed, it was in those eyes.

"Who... are you?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

The boy blinked, startled.

"What?"

"I am deeply sorry, Your Royal Highness, but the Princess has lost her memory," the maid quickly interjected.

The boy's shock only deepened.

"Is that true?!"

He grabbed my shoulders, his grip firm but not unkind.

"Is it true, Daira?!"

I looked away, my nerves betraying me.

"Y-Yes."

He finally let go of me, clenching his fists tightly.

"I knew something was wrong. Days passed without a word from you. And when I finally heard you'd been in an accident, they wouldn't let me see you. I had to sneak away just to come here... only to discover that my beloved has lost her memory."

Beloved?

"Am I not the unluckiest man alive?" He looked at me with an intensity that made my heart race.

Suddenly, it was as if my chest were on fire. My heartbeat grew faster and faster until I thought I might faint. Placing a hand over my chest, I stumbled into one of the armchairs in the lounge.

"Daira!" he exclaimed, rushing to my side. "Are you okay?!"

"Yes... I just... I don't know what's going on anymore."

"Please, fetch some medicine for her!" he commanded Betia and the other maid. "I'll take care of her."

"Yes, Your Royal Highness!" they replied in unison, hurrying out of the room.

When we were alone, the Prince knelt beside me, gently placing a hand on my cheek.

In his eyes...

Tears.

"Have you truly forgotten me, Daira?"

Avantgar was an absolute monarchy ruled from the capital city of Legios. The Royal Crown maintained close ties with all noble houses, but none more so than Thamel. Our territories shared a border, and the knights of Thamel were charged with maintaining order throughout the kingdom.

More than that, Thamel was home to the man known as "the strongest in the world."

That title belonged to my father: Cyrus Grai Thamel.

It was no surprise, then, that the monarchy sought a strong alliance with Thamel. And the simplest way to secure it was through marriage. Even before I was born, it had been decided that I would marry the Crown Prince of Legios.

My family... sold me.

Damian Ren Legios was the heir to the Royal Crown. The only son of the King of Avantgar.

And he was my fiancé.

Well, Daira's fiancé.

To my luck—or misery—Damian seemed like a genuinely nice guy. At twenty years old, he was just a year older than Daira. He carried himself with politeness and grace, the epitome of a gentleman. As the sole heir to the throne, he led a relatively simple life. With no siblings to compete with for the crown, his focus remained entirely on his duties—and his fiancée.

Damian had grown up knowing that one day he would marry Daira. His devotion to her was nothing short of remarkable. He'd made it his mission to become the ideal husband, mastering everything from courtly manners to the finer points of attentiveness. He lived to serve her, striving to meet her every desire.

The archetype of the perfect man.

So, naturally, he had been deeply worried during my time unconscious. Knowing what kind of scumbags my family were, they likely kept my accident a secret from him until they were sure I'd survive. Still, Damian somehow found out. He pleaded to see me, but my family, ever so kind, forbade him under the excuse that I was still recovering.

Determined, Damian decided to sneak away. Once he arrived in Thamel, the Duke couldn't very well send him back—no one could refuse the Crown Prince once he was already inside the mansion.

And that was how we ended up here. Damian, the perfect prince, had come to check on his fiancée. What he didn't realize was that he would never truly see Daira again.

Because now, I was here.

"So, to sum up, you and I are engaged. And you came to see me on the spur of the moment because you were worried about my accident," I said, now feeling a bit calmer.

"That's right, Daira. You have no idea how worried I was. I even thought..." His voice trailed off.

We sat down to talk properly, tea and desserts—apparently the Prince's favorites—brought in by a maid. As we ate, he updated me on the state of our strange relationship.

"I'm sorry for making you worry," I said, trying to sound sincere. "But I really don't remember you."

Lying to Damian made me feel guilty, but what choice did I have? There was no way I could tell him that his real fiancée had died and another woman had taken over her body.

So I leaned heavily on the amnesia excuse.

"I... see," he said, his voice tinged with disappointment.

The Prince looked genuinely saddened by the situation, yet somehow, he managed to smile and meet my gaze.

"It doesn't matter anymore. We'll create beautiful moments together again, Daira."

I felt my cheeks flush.

"Al-Alright."

The Prince's smile softened, warmer this time.

"Then I won't take up any more of your recovery time. I'll come back another day. It's enough for me to know you're well... In fact, you look better than ever."

My blush deepened.

"I've... improved my diet. I'll be working out soon, too."

"That's fantastic. My future wife must be the healthiest woman in the entire kingdom."

He rose from his seat, and I walked with him to the door of the guest lounge to say goodbye.

"Goodbye, Daira," he said, offering me one last dazzling smile before stepping out.

After the Prince's visit, I returned to my room. On the way, my thoughts spiraled as I tried to process everything I had discovered today. The Prince was undeniably charming, a true gentleman—someone I never imagined meeting in a world like this.

Maybe Daira's life wasn't as bleak as I had first assumed.

Yet, something nagged at me.

Perhaps it was because I had grown used to being surrounded by awful people, but the Prince felt... too perfect. I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling he gave me. It wasn't something I could clearly define, just a subtle discomfort, like when you know things are going too smoothly to last.

It was strange, unsettling even, that he was so kind to me. Apart from being his fiancée, there was no real reason for him to care so much. He had to know about my strained relationship with my family—how I was practically worthless to them.

It made no sense for him to seek my affection, knowing he couldn't use me to gain the support of my family.

I was no use to him.

But in the end, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, he wasn't in any rush to claim the crown. As an only child, maybe he had the luxury of indulging in a little romance. And, honestly, what could be better than having someone like Daira as his wife?

She was, after all, one of the most beautiful women in Avantgar.

Despite my worries, I couldn't completely dismiss the possibility that Damian's feelings were genuine. That, perhaps, he might be the only person who truly cared about me.

And I needed that. Desperately. Because without him, I would be utterly alone in this new world.

I had to trust him, even if every instinct I had as Anaís screamed at me to be cautious.

Especially when I remembered the way he smiled at me before he left.

It lasted only a second, but I saw it clearly.

That smile, so perfect and beautiful on the surface... but hiding something underneath. It reminded me of an actor forced to play a role he despised.

And I was the villainess in his story.

By the time I returned to my room, exhaustion had overtaken me. Thinking too much had left my head spinning, and I decided a nap was in order. I was about to call Betia to fetch my pajamas when something caught my eye.

Through my window, I caught a glimpse of the Prince.

He was in the garden. Strange. That wasn't the way to the exit, and there was no reason for him to be wandering around aimlessly.

Curious, I leaned closer to the window. Maybe I could call out to him, like Rapunzel waiting for her prince—you know, the one who climbs her hair... whose name I've completely forgotten. I poked my head out, trying to muster a friendly smile to catch his attention.

But what I saw stopped me in my tracks.

He wasn't alone.

I couldn't make out the details, but Damian was talking to another woman in the garden. Their conversation seemed lighthearted, full of casual smiles and laughter.

I didn't consider myself the jealous type, so I told myself not to jump to conclusions. It was just a conversation. Nothing more.

And yet... something about it unsettled me.

It was only a conversation. So why did it make me feel so uneasy?

As I watched, something else caught my attention—something I couldn't ignore.

He looked... comfortable with her. Far too comfortable.

My insecurities clawed their way back to the surface, dragging with them every doubt I'd tried to suppress about Damian. He was too perfect. Too good to be true. Like a carefully orchestrated performance where everyone had a role to play.

And my role was clear: the woman he was forced to marry.

But hers? She was the one he truly wanted.

Because the way he looked at her... those eyes...

They were filled with love.

Writing this chapter was such a joy, especially introducing Damian's character! What are your impressions of him? Let me know in the comments! And as always, don't forget to vote and follow for updates—it truly makes a difference!