The moment he saw Elysia, Franz realized what a fool he had been.
The woman who arrived in a luxurious golden carriage was the same one he had seen in the library.
She, Elysia, was much more beautiful than he remembered.
The moment he caught sight of her shy expression, Franz's heart began to pound wildly.
He wanted to run to her and hold her hand.
He wanted to tell her that he had been searching for her, that he missed her.
But he had to turn his face away.
His eyes caught the sharp look of Crichton, who had come to see the second prince's upcoming bride.
The moment he saw him, the blood froze in Franz's veins.
It was a disaster.
Franz bit his lip hard.
In his desperation to find the woman who would be his soul-bonded partner, he hadn't thought about the consequences.
He shouldn't have looked for her.
Franz's position in the imperial family was unstable.
More precisely, it was not unusual for him to be killed at any time.
Crichton's ambitions to seize the position of crown prince had increased after his marriage.
He had even explicitly tried to poison Franz to get rid of him.
In such a situation, if anyone found out that Franz loved Elysia—
If Crichton knew it was his greatest weakness—
He would be the first to try to kill her.
This must never happen.
He could not allow Elysia to become a target of Crichton.
He had to protect her.
This thought filled Franz's mind completely.
Compared to Crichton, who had powerful supporters, Franz lacked any political backing.
So, the best way was to keep his distance.
For the first time, Franz realized that his lack of ambition had become a poison.
If only he wanted more, if he had built himself political influence—
He would have found another way, instead of pushing Elysia away.
But it was too late.
Crichton's foundation was already firmly established.
Franz did not have enough strength to confront him.
The only reassuring thing was that Crichton seemed uninterested in Elysia.
As soon as Franz turned his face, the interest vanished from Crichton's eyes.
When Franz said that he would send Elysia to the secondary palace, Crichton commented sarcastically on his cruelty.
He looked genuinely remorseful.
As if he was disappointed not to have found Franz's weak spot again.
Franz was convinced at that moment.
To protect Elysia, he must not allow her to remain in Crichton's sight.
And for that, he had to treat her coldly.
He could do it.
He had hidden his feelings since his mother died.
He was confident in himself.
But when Elysia stepped onto the wedding stage, he couldn't hold back his emotions.
She was wearing a custom-made dress, walking toward him—and she was gorgeous.
No one knew, but the wedding dress was imbued with Franz's obsession.
He had ordered it to be high collared and long sleeved, so that no one could see any of it.
Layers of veil were placed over it so that Crichton could not see it even from afar.
To the point where it was difficult to distinguish who the bride actually was.
However, even though she was surrounded like this, Franz seeing her made his heart pound wildly.
How pathetic you are.
Franz scolded himself.
This was just the beginning, and he was already afraid of messing up.
He never realized how much of a coward he was.
Everything worried him.
Had Crichton seen his eyes twitch when Elysia entered the cathedral?
Would he collapse under the weight of her smile?
Sending her to the secondary palace hadn't been enough.
He should have pushed her away harder.
He needed the rumors to spread—that the Second Prince didn't love his bride.
So he made it happen.
He ordered the demolition of the fountain she loved, spoke to her harshly, and treated her coldly in front of as many people as possible.
With every harsh action, the sparkle in Elysia's eyes faded.
And with every look at her fading light, Franz's heart broke.
He clutched his chest in pain countless times a day.
'This isn't true.'
'I shouldn't be doing this.'
'No—this is the only way.'
There was no choice.
If he wanted to keep the poison away from her table, and protect her from a mysterious "accident," this was the best way.
For a second prince without power, this painful and cowardly way was all he had to protect the woman he loved.
But this was not the only torment that Franz faced.
Ever since he had met Elysia, a desire he had never known had awakened within him.
I wish he didn't know.
But, after he had tasted her sweet perfume, and the violent pleasure she brought him, his nights turned into a living hell.
Every night, he forced himself to suppress his desires, conjuring up her scent.
Especially on the nights when they neutralized the mana together—his desire became even more intense.
Her tender looks, the soft touches of her hand, and the perfume that lingered on her neck—
Every detail of it was vivid in his memory, driving him crazy.
Like a madman, Franz replayed and replayed every moment he had spent with her.
But desire had a limit, it could not be suppressed forever.
So, Franz had taken the veil that Elysia wore on their wedding day.
And every night, he buried his face in it, saturated with her perfume, and tried to calm himself.
He lived on the edge of madness, pouring his dark longing into the fabric.
He kissed it madly, touched it with his burning palms, and whispered countless words of love to it.
He poured out a futile love that would never reach her.
He knew how vile and shameful it was—but he couldn't stop.
"Your Highness?"
One night, Elysia entered his room.
The moment he saw her illuminated by the moonlight, Franz's heart sank.
He was too embarrassed to notice the veil—or to see its messy state—so he shouted at her: "Get out!"
"Your Highness, I...
I just wanted to see you for a moment..."
Her emerald eyes filled with tears as she trembled.
Franz's throat constricted again, and he shouted: "I told you to get out!"
"I...I just wanted to see you for a moment..."
Her delicate, trembling body looked like it was about to collapse.
Franz's limbs were trembling.
He wanted to hug her.
To calm her down.
To cast aside this damned veil and whisper his true love to her.
To tell her that he truly loved her.
"To—..."
"Lady Glenna said she shared a room with Prince Crichton..."
But, suddenly—
"...what?"
Before his confession was complete, I interrupted him.
"I-I am the wife of His Highness the Prince.
I was told that a princess does not need permission to enter her husband's room.
Even my mother said...that is strange.
Please...don't push me away."
There was silence after Elysia's tearful excuse.
"I'm the only one...the only one who lives alone in the secondary palace..."
"Did you tell the princess about me?
Did you talk about me to Crichton?"
Franz asked her, confused.
"Is that why you came here?"
"Please, don't be angry.
I'm sorry..."
"Did you come because of what Crichton said?"
His voice trembled.
He felt humiliated—as if she had taken advantage of him.
But what overcame everything was: fear.
He had done the impossible to keep Elysia away from Crichton and Glenna.
But in the void he left, she turned to them.
The thought made him shiver.
Impossible.
Franz clenched his hand tightly.
He would never let her depend on Crichton or Glenna again.
She should regret even asking for their advice.
This was the only way to protect this pure woman.
He had to be tough.
He had to make this night a painful memory, so that she would never think of taking refuge in the First Prince's house again.
Franz raised his fist.
He closed his eyes tightly, then slapped her on the cheek.
He forced himself to let out a cold, stony voice: "Elysia—Are you trying to mock me?
If it weren't for the soul bond between us, I would have stripped you of your title long ago!"
Elysia's eyes were filled with horror.
Tears flowed from those beautiful, innocent eyes.
Franz's jaw spasmed at the heartbreaking sight.
He wanted to kneel down and apologize, to beg her to slap him.
But he couldn't collapse now.
He couldn't let all his efforts be in vain.
Franz showered her with cruel insults, loud enough for all the servants to hear.
"Please...
I'm sorry...
I'm so sorry, Your Highness..."
She fell to the ground crying, before running away crying.
Franz expelled her with a heart torn to pieces.
It was a night of torment that he would never forget as long as he lived.