I Have No Intention of Accepting
"Of course I have to watch it. That's the only reason I'm watching."
Cyrus answered in a flat tone, his headset volume turned down low. His eyes never left the screen.
The royal family's New Year's greeting.
"That makes sense. After all, it's the only way you get to meet your bride."
My bride.
Cyrus's expression stiffened for a brief moment at the careless phrase. But he kept his face neutral and replied calmly.
"I'm only listening because today's announcement serves as a key indicator for this year's economic trends."
"But you get to see your princess while you're at it, right? It's a done deal anyway."
When the relentless teasing showed no signs of stopping, Cyrus finally pushed his headset back and turned to face Logan.
"Blake."
"What?"
He was spinning a basketball in lazy circles. That sly grin made it easy to guess exactly what he was thinking.
"Let me be clear. I have no intention of accepting any request from the royal family."
The tradition that the kingdom's finest student would marry the royal heir had never once been broken.
But that was only because the top student had never refused.
"You're going to turn it down? A royal proposal?"
"It's one of the rights I possess."
Of course, that was purely theoretical. Who would reject such a meteoric rise in status?
Still, as long as the option existed, Cyrus saw no reason not to use it. Being forcibly tied to a woman he barely knew, or saddled with tedious obligations, held zero appeal.
"Quinny, are you out of your mind?"
"Don't call me that."
"That's the best job offer in existence! And it comes with the ultimate trophy—the princess herself. What more could you want?"
As he spoke, the camera filled the screen with Princess Evey standing a step back, smiling gracefully.
The live chat window sped up.
Roughly half the messages were pure praise. The other half was filled with garbage. To Cyrus, both sides looked equally pathetic.
"I..."
Cyrus sighed and snatched the basketball from Logan's hands. The constant spinning had been grating on his nerves.
"I'm not interested in collecting trophies. The princess isn't a trophy to begin with. Besides, the position they're offering me... isn't particularly attractive."
"Is there anything in this world more attractive than becoming the queen's husband?"
"Countless things."
Cyrus answered without hesitation.
Just the sight of that hypocritical New Year's greeting on screen was proof enough. The serene pretense that 'We are living in an era with no problems whatsoever' felt almost tragic.
He acknowledged that such an attitude was necessary for the sake of the public. But could he pull it off himself? Absolutely not.
Nor did it interest him. That sort of performance was better left to people with an actor's temperament.
And above all else...
Cyrus shifted his gaze back to the broadcast. He studied the princess at the very back, smiling with innocent purity as if she knew nothing of the world, and his lips curved into a crooked smile.
"I dislike her."
"You dislike the royal family? And here I thought I was rooming with a traitor. Aren't you scared of what kind of retaliation they'll throw at you?"
Retaliation?
Cyrus let out a small laugh.
Of course his refusal wouldn't be pleasant for them. Those stuck-in-the-past traditionalists had failed to uphold their precious custom.
But they weren't narrow-minded enough to take it out on a kid who had only just graduated high school. They hated scandals.
Besides, if the royal family bothered to look into his background even a little, they would probably be grateful he had turned them down.
"Do what you want."
Cyrus gave the basketball one last gentle toss.
It traced a perfect parabola and dropped cleanly through the makeshift hoop—a round net hung on the wall.
Logan whistled in genuine surprise.
Cyrus pulled his headset back on and returned his attention to the screen. Princess Evey's image, now pushed to the corner, caught his eye for only a fleeting second.
It carried no particular emotion.
The New Year's greeting had ended.
Evey wiped away every trace of makeup and changed back into her ordinary school uniform.
The holiday wasn't over yet, but she had no desire to stay at the palace any longer.
After all, I'd just be alone.
Her parents were extremely busy during this season. She didn't want to burden them by lingering.
Besides, there were class president duties waiting for her back at school.
Evey grabbed her worn backpack and stepped out of her room.
She waved off the servant who had come to see her off and descended the stairs alone.
Halfway down, a familiar voice drifted up from the entrance hall.
"I'll send someone. Yes, of course—discreetly."
It was Owen. From the one-sided conversation, he was clearly on a call.
Eavesdropping on a secretary's private conversation wasn't exactly princess-like behavior. Evey cleared her throat, preparing to finish descending the stairs.
But then—
"I have no intention of lowering my guard. Not when it concerns the princess."
The words that followed made her freeze mid-step.
"...Owen."
At her quiet call, he quickly ended the call and hurried over, offering his hand.
"I was waiting for you, Your Highness."
Evey took his hand, finished descending, and asked, "Who was it?"
He knew she wasn't asking for the caller's identity. That was why he could only offer an awkward smile.
"Is that an order?"
"...Yes."
"Then never mind."
Owen always put Evey's wishes first, but there was one exception where he could disobey her.
A direct royal command.
Which meant the person he'd been speaking to was her father—the king of this country.
In that case, no amount of pressing from her would work.
"I'm sorry," he said, opening the car door.
"It's fine."
Evey hugged her bag to her chest and fell into thought.
What kind of information would her father want to keep from her?
Was it related to her uncle's incident?
No, that couldn't be. After his execution, the remaining family members had been completely struck from the royal register.
She would never see her cousin—who was the same age as her—again.
Probably for the rest of their lives.
It was nearly lights-out when Owen's car pulled up to the school.
Most of the dormitory windows were already dark.
Had the students here suddenly become model citizens about the curfew?
Well, more than before, perhaps. But not to this degree. Most of them simply hadn't returned from vacation yet.
Evey crossed the empty dormitory hall and signed the return form in the dorm supervisor's office.
She had hoped Zoe might have come back too, but her friend's slot was still empty. It seemed she hadn't managed to escape her family.
Poor thing.
The fact that she could worry about her like this at all had started during the break, after they'd begun texting regularly.
At first their messages had been strictly about dormitory matters.
Before long, complaints about classes and homework slipped in. Later, even short grumbles about family life had joined the conversation.
Without realizing it, they'd started messaging more frequently. If a reply was late, she would find herself waiting for it.
Evey decided she would call Zoe before going to sleep as she left the supervisor's office.
She climbed the quiet staircase, only to hear footsteps coming down from the opposite direction.
Who else would give up spending New Year's with family?
The footsteps drew closer. Evey tilted her head slightly upward.
Through the gaps in the railing, she caught sight of the other person—and stopped cold.
Of all people to run into on New Year's Day, when one was supposed to speak of hope and new beginnings, this was the most awkward.
Cyrus Quinton.
And just as she looked up, he happened to glance down from the stairs above. Their eyes met.
They both froze. Their gazes tangled in the space between the railing and the shadows.
Evey turned her head first and continued upward. At the same time, Cyrus descended, and they passed each other on the landing without a word.
Neither spoke. It was as if the other person didn't exist.
When they had put some distance between them, Evey couldn't stand it anymore. She turned back.
After all, pretending not to know someone she knew so well felt too strange.
"Hi, Quinton."