Surviving As The Villainess's Attendant-Chapter 280: The First Meeting [2]

Clap—!

Clap—!

The sharp sound echoed through the throne room, crisp and deliberate.

At once, the side doors opened.

Measured footsteps approached.

A young man stepped inside, his presence commanding without being overbearing—tall, well-built, clad in an immaculate formal uniform trimmed with gold and sapphire blue. His blond hair was neatly tied, his expression composed yet carrying a faint, knowing smile.

Crown Prince Elric of Solhaven.

Alice’s fiancé.

"Father," Elric said, placing a hand over his chest as he inclined his upper body in a restrained, practiced bow. "You summoned me?"

The Emperor nodded, clearly pleased.

"Your timing is impeccable," he said. "I wanted you present for this."

Elric straightened. As if guided by instinct, his gaze shifted across the chamber—until it settled on Alice.

Their eyes met.

Only briefly.

Alice was the first to look away, lowering her gaze and performing a flawless courtesy, every movement precise and elegant.

"Your Highness," she said evenly. "It has been some time."

"Indeed."

Elric’s response was short, formal.

"Pleased to see you again, Alice Draken."

That was all.

No warmth.

No familiarity.

Not even polite curiosity.

It was the man she had once longed for—no, the man she had been expected to long for.

’But... why?’

Alice felt it immediately.

Affection should have been there.

Or expectation.

At the very least, interest.

Something.

Instead, the golden eyes that met hers again were calm, distant, and utterly untroubled—as though she were no more than a noble acquaintance.

Nothing but indifference.

Her fingers tightened slightly at her side.

"...Tsk," she muttered under her breath, just quiet enough to avoid being called discourteous.

"Is that all your sentiment amounts to?"

Elric heard her anyway.

He tilted his head, studying her with mild curiosity rather than offense.

"Yes," he replied plainly. "For now."

Alice blinked.

"For now?" she echoed.

He nodded once.

"It is merely an engagement," he said. "The formal vows will not be exchanged until after graduation from the academy. Until then, I see no reason to pretend at emotions that have not yet taken root."

The Emperor chuckled softly, clearly amused.

"Ever the rational one," he said. "You speak as if marriage were a treaty."

Elric did not deny it.

"In many ways, it is," he replied. "Especially for the imperial family."

Alice lifted her gaze once more, this time meeting his eyes directly.

"And if those emotions never take root?" she asked quietly. "What then?"

There was a brief pause.

Not hesitation—calculation.

"Then we will have fulfilled our duty regardless," Elric replied. "Affection is desirable, not mandatory."

His tone was even. Reasonable.

That was what made it sting.

A faint shift rippled through the atmosphere, subtle yet unmistakable. The courtiers standing at a distance pretended not to notice, but every one of them felt it—the invisible line that had just been drawn.

Before Alice could respond, Elric turned away.

Without another word, he left the hall.

The echo of his footsteps faded far too quickly, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence.

The Emperor watched his son’s retreating back for a long moment, then let out a weary sigh.

"...I apologize," he said at last, rubbing his temple. "I only wished to give you an opportunity to greet one another properly. But that child... turned out this way."

Alice straightened at once.

"...It’s alright," she replied.

Her voice trembled just slightly, natural enough to pass unnoticed—except to herself. She clasped her hands together to steady them.

’It will be fine,’ she told herself.

’If I make the effort, it will be fine.’

She was destined to stand at his side for a lifetime.

The first meeting falling short of her expectations was regrettable, yes—but not irreversible. Relationships were built, not gifted. Especially among nobles.

And for her family’s sake, failure was not an option.

Love, after all, was fleeting.

Duty endured.

Reassuring herself, Alice carefully overlaid her expression with the polished composure she had practiced thousands of times since childhood. The perfect smile. The calm eyes. The poised posture befitting a future empress.

"I will be enrolling in the academy the same year as His Highness, the Crown Prince," she said gently. "I will do my utmost to stand beside him."

The Emperor studied her for a moment, then gave a small, awkward smile.

"To have such a considerate daughter-in-law... it seems my worries were unnecessary after all."

He stroked his beard, though his eyes held a trace of guilt that hadn’t quite faded.

Alice lowered her head slightly in response.

"It is my honor," she said.

Yet as she straightened, her gaze lingered for just a moment on the doorway Elric had passed through.

His words replayed themselves in her mind.

Affection is desirable, not mandatory.

Her fingers tightened beneath her sleeves.

’That’s fine,’ she reassured herself once more.

’I can work with that.’

After all, even ice could melt—given enough time.

And time, she had plenty of.

"Though it’s a bit late, go enjoy the social gathering. I’ll make sure Elric isn’t late either."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Alice lifted the hem of her dress once more, offering a flawless farewell bow. Not a tremor, not a misstep. When she straightened, the mask was complete.

She turned and left the throne room.

The heavy doors closed behind her with a muted thud, sealing away the Emperor, the echoes of duty, and the words that still weighed on her chest.

For a brief moment after crossing the threshold, her steps slowed.

Just for a breath.

The corridor beyond was lined with tall pillars and stained-glass windows, moonlight filtering through sapphire and gold, casting fractured patterns across the marble floor. The distant hum of music drifted in from the grand ballroom—laughter, conversation, the soft cadence of a waltz.

A social gathering.

She exhaled slowly.

’Pull yourself together.’

This was not the first time expectations had outweighed emotion. Nor would it be the last.

Straightening her posture, Alice resumed walking, heels clicking rhythmically against the floor. With each step, the weight in her chest settled—not disappearing, but becoming manageable. Familiar. Almost comforting.

By the time she reached the ballroom entrance, her expression had shifted seamlessly into one of gentle confidence.