Chapter 1: Peace over Cheekiness
— In Which I Am Summoned, Misunderstood, and Mistaken for a Menace in Mascara
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They summoned me to the Imperial Palace.
No, not for a tea party. Not to braid anyone's hair. And definitely not for any royal matchmaking nonsense (we've already dodged five of those).
Apparently, someone thought it would be a brilliant idea to test "potential elite guard candidates from lesser-known noble families." I'd like to think they just wanted to see someone get humbled in front of the Empire's finest.
Spoiler: It wasn't me who got humbled.
But let's start earlier that morning—where I, Yvaine Isolde, stood in my chambers, dramatically draped across my reading chair, in protest of life itself.
"I refuse," I announced.
"To what, my lady?" asked my assistant, the human embodiment of a sigh dressed in starched clothes.
"To everything. Combat, bureaucracy, brunch."
He raised a brow. "We don't have brunch."
"Exactly," I said, mournfully biting into bread.
"My life lacks luxury. I'm overworked. I inspect businesses, teach etiquette, balance ledgers, and for what? I'm single, I have no dog, and my hairbrush is plotting against me."
He didn't even blink. "You also have three new estates, two bakeries, and that one warehouse you forgot you bought."
"Romantic warehouses don't count!"
My maid, bless her, just smiled as she brought my cloak. "You still have us, milady."
"I know," I said, dramatic as the moon. "Which is why I've decided something."
They waited.
"I can't live without you three," I said sincerely. "You pamper me. You scold me when I forget meals. You even brush my hair when it tangles into war crimes."
The butler bowed with a soft smile. My assistant narrowed his eyes.
"What if I'll just adopt both of you, so I won't have to get married as they required me to."
"Pardon?" they chorused.
"You heard me. Go on. Be my children through adoption. Problem solved."
My assistant pinched the bridge of his nose. "Is this another dream logic proposal again?"
"I'm just being practical," I said, licking honey off my finger. "Or—wait for it—you could marry me."
Silence.
My assistant turned red. Not just ears. Whole-face red. Like a sunset had exploded across his cheekbones.
"I'll go review the supply logs," he said abruptly and disappeared like a startled cat.
I howled with laughter and stuffed another piece of bread into my mouth. "He's so dramatic," I told the maid. "It's adorable."
"Maybe don't propose during breakfast next time," she giggled.
"Too late. I've committed. If I can't marry a ledger, I might as well marry the man who keeps fighting them for me."
Now fast forward to the palace.
The other nobles arrived in carriages lined with gold. I walked in on foot, hair pinned up, a training blade strapped to my hip, and a face that said I don't have time for your powdered wigs.
A nobleman whispered, "Is that… a merchant girl?"
Another muttered, "She's only what? Five-foot-something?"
Then one of the imperial guards pointed me to the center ring. "Your match is waiting."
I looked. The opponent towered over me like a moving wall.
I grinned.
Five minutes later, he was on the floor. Not an exaggeration, but the truth.
The crowd gasped. Someone shrieked. One of the male leads—the overly dramatic duke's son—spilled his tea. "She threw him?"
I answered at the back of my mind "No hunny, it was just his apparition"
The crown prince looked vaguely intrigued. The knight with the brooding aura smirked. And the mage—red hair, too many rings—adjusted his gloves like I had just become a riddle he couldn't solve.
And me?
I yawned.
When the match ended, the attendant asked for my family's name.
"Just put down Yvaine," I said lazily. "And if anyone asks again, I'm Lady 'Mind Your Business.'"
Back at the estate, my assistant was waiting.
"You're back early," he said.
"Don't worry. No limbs were lost," I replied. "Well, except for someone's pride."
He raised a brow as he handed me tea. "Did you win?"
I sipped. "Do chickens waltz?"
He blinked. "No."
"Exactly," I said carelessly without sounding like a spoiled noble lady.
He sighed, turned away, and mumbled something about "chaos in heels."
I smiled.
He doesn't know it, but one day, I might just marry him.
Not now, of course. That would be too easy. No, I'll torment him with teasing, sass, and borderline marriage proposals until he can't tell whether I'm joking or serious.
(Plot twist: I'm both.)
The sun had started to set by the time we arrived back at one of the family estates on this side of the Empire. It was quieter here—no banners, no banquet noise, just the rustling of ivy along the windows and the faint clink of teacups being cleaned somewhere in the distance.
He stepped down first, of course, offering his hand as if I were made of porcelain. Then, once we entered, he carefully unclasped the knot of my cloak, lifting it off my shoulders without a word and setting it neatly aside. His hands were warm. The way they moved was second nature—like this was routine. Like I had always come home to him.
"You should go straight to your room," he said, gently. "I've prepared the bath. The maids will arrive in a moment."
"Oh? You mean you didn't fill the tub with rose petals yourself? I think you should start doing that now, so I'll have the upper hand to demand a wedding." I teased, grinning.
He blinked once, then turned slightly as if to hide a smile. "No petals," he replied, "but I did ensure the temperature was exactly as you prefer."
He gestured to the adjoining room, and I walked in only to pause when I felt him kneel behind me.
He was already untying my boots.
"You really don't have to," I started.
"You'll just trip over them again," he said dryly. "And I tied them too well, remember?"
"Ah, so you admit you deliberately make them impossible to untie."
He smirked. "Security measures."
I watched him quietly as he loosened the laces, his head bowed in focus. His lashes were long. His hands were steady.
"Why not marry me?" I asked again, chin resting lazily on my hand. "I could spoil you instead. Also, I do have my own attendants. Just why? All this effort for someone who marries ledgers and schedules…"
He didn't flinch this time. He just looked up at me with a soft chuckle and said, "If I must marry someone, I still want to spoil her. Provide for her. Give her everything, even if she could buy the whole Empire herself."
That made me pause.
My heart did that annoying flutter-thingy it sometimes does when he's too sincere for his own good.
I blinked. "Alrighty then," I said, standing with a stretch, "I'll wait for it. But just so you know, I'm a very competitive giver."
He laughed.
And I did too.
Because at the end of the day, no matter how chaotic my life was…
Coming home to this?
It was always worth it.
"Tonight," I whispered to my reflection, tying my tunic strings, "I'm not a noble. I'm just a man in a bar about to witness the nation's worst dance moves.
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End of Chapter 1