Kill the Author, Then to Hell - Chapter 15.1

The Crown Prince’s attendance at the ball wasn’t extraordinary.

Even though she wasn’t his biological mother, it was his mother on paper. And furthermore, it was the Empress’s birthday celebration, so perhaps it was natural for him to make an appearance.

I too had hoped I might catch a glimpse of Crown Prince Marcel’s face.

<Ah, since you’re a girl, you might not be interested in talks of magical prowess. How about this! His Highness’s looks are said to be quite splendid.>

Having heard such comments before, I was almost begrudgingly curious to see just how splendid that face could be.

And upon seeing him, I had to admit.

‘Wow, he’s… quite something.’

Was it his breathtaking appearance? Truly fitting of a male lead.

He towered among the other young men present at the ball, not just in stature but also in the finely crafted features that contrasted sharply with his pronounced nose and delicate complexion.

I heard the Crown Prince’s mother was of foreign descent, which might explain his healthy, tanned skin tone and black hair, quite different from the pale complexion of most imperial citizens. Yet, his eyes carried the golden hue, signifying the sacred bloodline of the imperial family, adding to his exotic and mysterious aura.

Suddenly, my seatmate Johan, whom I had always considered decently handsome despite his flawed character, seemed like a squid in comparison.

‘But seriously, even so.’

There was a reason everyone was taken aback.

Whether he had come straight from a battlefield or not, his jet-black hair was drenched in sweat.

And instead of appropriate ball attire, he was clad in plate armor that seemed miles away from being suitable for a ball.

He wasn’t even a messenger coming straight from a battlefield, but he even held his helm in one hand.

Clank—

The Crown Prince, who seemed to have come to wreak havoc at the ball, made metal sounds with every step he took in his armor.

Stopping dead in the center of the dance floor, the Crown Prince suddenly asked,

“Why isn’t anyone dancing?”

As if he had just realized he was in the middle of the ballroom.

Yet, no one dared to move.

Even Delia next to me had her hand over her mouth, suppressed by his presence.

“I came here for a ball, and no one is dancing. How boring. Mother, what’s with this atmosphere?”

From behind the drapery of the royal seat, Empress Andrea rose, her face pale and devoid of blood.

“No, it’s your mother’s birthday celebration. How can it be like this? People really have no manners.”

The one with undoubtedly the least manners in the room grumbled.

“Cough, that, well…”

The Empress cleared her throat, but the Crown Prince gave no chance for an explanation.

“It’s a ball, is it not? Don’t you know what a ball is? Pretending to dance with elegant etiquette! Where men choose women to their liking without knowing anything!”

“…”

“Haha, it’s all good, but I prefer something quick and efficient.”

With those words, the Crown Prince started striding across the floor again.

‘What, why is he coming this way?’

It was unmistakable that the Crown Prince was heading straight for us.

That meant the popcorn-eating spectator mindset I had was about to be pushed aside once I get directly involved.

The distance quickly closed, and uncomfortably, all eyes turned here.

That’s when it happened.

“Crown Prince Marcel, I’ve been waiting for you. I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for you keeping our promise.”

Delia bowed deeply, her face alight with emotion.

‘Ah, right.’

Given the context, the partner Delia had been steadfastly believing would come, albeit late, was undoubtedly the Crown Prince.

So, the moment the Crown Prince entered, she stood up.

It now made sense why she had mentioned earlier that her partner was busy with official duties and that she was the lucky one.

I felt a bit embarrassed.

‘I thought he came this way because of me.’

Well, isn’t that possible?

After all, I’m supposed to be the protagonist of this story, aren’t I?

And according to my father, Marquis Simon Dayton and the Emperor had already agreed to engage me to the Crown Prince…?

But had I ever heard what the Crown Prince himself thought about this?

‘…Oops.’

Suddenly, I started to piece together exactly what was happening at lightning speed.

And as if to confirm my late realization,

“When did I ever make such a promise? I don’t recall.”

Marcel let out a frosty, mocking laugh.

Delia slumped back down to her seat, biting her lip. Though she managed her expression with the last of her dignity, it seemed as though her heart was deeply scarred.

‘Uuugh.’

I really wanted to run away from here, but this story had no pause button.

The Crown Prince glanced at the ‘Dayton’ sign on the table.

After briefly locking eyes with Johan, who wore an inscrutable expression,

He turned to me and scrutinized me from head to toe.

“Mother, I’ve made my choice.”

The Crown Prince smiled, but…

“I’ll choose her.”

…his eyes were not smiling at all.

With an exaggerated bow that seemed to mock etiquette, the Crown Prince extended his hand to me.

And the only option I really had was to take that hand.

“Let it be known to all! I, Marcel Claremont, the rightful heir to the throne, hereby announce my engagement to Edith of House Dayton. In accordance with the wishes of my father, Emperor Theodore Claremont, who dislikes formalities, this ball shall serve as our engagement ceremony.”

‘Wow, so we’re getting engaged just like that? Talk about efficiency.’

While it’s said to be in accordance with the Emperor’s wishes, judging from the situation, this kind of flash engagement hardly seemed to be what the Emperor intended.

It was more likely the Crown Prince throwing a fit in rebellion against being forced into marriage with me by the Emperor.

“Now, continue.”

With a gesture from the Crown Prince, the orchestra resumed playing.

People seemed to flood the dance floor, perhaps to pretend to dance but really to gossip about what had just happened.

“May I have this first dance?”

As if trying to remove the obstacle, or maybe just to do something, Johan extended his hand to Delia.

“I apologize, but I’m not feeling well and must decline.”

Delia remained elegant to the end.

However, once she left the ballroom, away from anyone’s gaze, how she would cry was something everyone could probably guess.

Crown Prince Marcel watched silently until Delia was out of sight from the ballroom.

Then, he finally turned to look at me. Or more accurately, at my hand still held in his.

“We’ll have plenty of dances after we’re married, so let’s skip it for today.”

That was the first and essentially the last thing the Crown Prince said to me.

After that, he left, and I never saw the Crown Prince’s face again.

Literally.

Never again.