The crowd in the hall was overwhelming.

Emily had expected an elegant party, yes, but never one this grand.

Gilded columns reflected light from massive crystal chandeliers overhead, and in every corner, clusters of nobles murmured, laughed, or scrutinized others with judgmental stares. The room buzzed with movement, noise, and worst of all…

Too. Many. Eyes.

Emily swallowed hard.

‘Should I even be here?’ she wondered, suddenly hyperaware of her dress. Though pretty, it felt painfully plain compared to the lavish gowns around her. She’d chosen something simple to blend in—but now she stuck out like a weed in a rose garden.

Her hands trembled slightly, but she hid them behind her back, forcing calm.

Nolan, meanwhile, strode forward unfazed. He ignored the stares, his expression as serene as if he were strolling through a market, not one of the kingdom’s most prestigious events. What shocked Emily most? He hadn’t even changed his clothes.

His attire was formal but austere—no jewels, no family crests, no opulent embroidery. Just… Nolan.

‘He doesn’t care what anyone thinks,’ Emily marveled, equal parts awed and anxious. She agonized over every detail—how she looked, how others saw her—but Nolan? Nolan did exactly as he pleased.

He beelined for a towering banquet table.

Emily blinked.

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‘Is his first move really… food?’

Nolan plucked a cream-filled pastry from a tray and, without glancing at her, said:

“Open your mouth.”

Emily’s face flamed.

“Wh-what?!”

She whipped her head around. No one seemed to notice—yet—but the risk of being seen…

“Hurry up,” Nolan urged calmly, holding the treat between his fingers.

Emily’s heart raced.

‘What kind of situation is this?!’

Panicking, she leaned forward and bit down—too quickly, too hard.

The pastry and Nolan’s fingertips.

“Ah!”

Emily jerked back, wide-eyed.

“I-I’m sorry!”

Horrified, she noticed a faint smear of saliva on his hand.

Nolan stared blankly for a moment… then burst out laughing.

“Relax. It’s fine.”

Emily wished the floor would swallow her.

“I-I’ll get a napkin—”

Before she could move, Nolan licked his fingers clean.

Emily’s brain short-circuited.

‘He just… ate it?! With my SALIVA?! WHAT IS HAPPENING?!’

Her cheeks burned nuclear red. She stared at the floor, too mortified to speak.

The incident, however, did not go unnoticed.

“How precious,” cooed a nearby noblewoman.

“Young nobles can’t even wait for privacy to flirt,” a man added mockingly.

Emily clenched her fists, breathing deeply to steady herself. She refused to make a scene.

When she dared to glance at Nolan again, he was already eating another pastry, utterly indifferent to the whispers.

‘Does nothing faze him?!’

Before her embarrassment could spiral, a booming voice silenced the hall:

“Her Royal Highness, Princess Iris, has arrived!”

The crowd parted like curtains. Emily looked up, curious, and—

Oh.

Iris was… radiant.

Her gown was pink silk embroidered with golden vines that shimmered with every step. Pearls graced her neck, and her blonde hair was swept into an elegant updo, loose strands artfully framing her face.

Emily’s chest tightened.

‘She’s… stunning.’

Iris’s poise, the way the room gazed at her in awe—it made Emily’s insecurities flare. She turned to Nolan, eager to share her thoughts…

Only to find him still eating, a bread roll in one hand and a slice of meat in the other, chewing lazily as the hall bowed to the princess.

Emily’s eye twitched.

‘Is the princess’s grand entrance… just a snack break to him?!’

She didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.