Chapter 3

Chapter 3: All Absurdities Can Be Brushed Off With A Smile

—From the day Anise fainted at the sight of the royal family’s sealed letter, he had two weeks to prepare.

During this time, he tirelessly pushed Janold to draft letter after letter and sent bouquets, only to receive no favorable reply—or any reply at all—from Miss Monica Laberi.

In the meantime, he was forced to spend every day in disguise.

“Alright, Annie, let’s transform! Ah, it’s been years, hasn’t it? Since I last dressed you up! We were like three sisters when we were kids, such nostalgia! Oh, don’t worry about a thing. All the costume costs, makeup, and even the custom padding for your chest are covered by the royal family!”

“A-ah, w-wait!”

“It looks like there’s barely any to begin with, but I’ll also take care of your beard. Hehehe, in two weeks, I’ll have you as smooth as a newborn! …This is going to be fun.”

“Eeeek!”

This draconian suggestion came from Lotiana, and though he tried to negotiate for “at least half a day,” she dismissed him without a second thought.

“Hey, Annie. What do you think would happen if word got out that the son of the Marquis Helengel was infiltrating the Laberi family in disguise as a woman? First, the engagement to His Highness the Crown Prince would be annulled. You’d leave a permanent scar on an innocent young lady’s heart, and His Highness’s reputation would be in shambles. Since everyone knows you’re close with His Highness, it’d be a scandal the royal family could hardly cover up.”

“But, sis—”

“Also, while people may idolize you now as ‘the cold amber-eyed prince,’ in the future, no one would want to marry you. It’s not just your problem anymore—Father and I are involved, too. You understand what a single misstep means, right?”

For the duration of the two weeks, aside from document training, he was ordered to “study the female heart,” resulting in his room being stacked with romantic novels he had no interest in reading. He nearly choked on the sweet lines of the knights, forcing himself to read through them.

(The men in stories women like are absolutely personality disasters—split personalities. How does he go from cold to suddenly grabbing her out of nowhere? It’s love at first sight? Delusion!)

Thus, while committing to a life of thorough disguise—wearing negligees to bed, drawers underneath—it seemed his male dignity was being systematically stripped away. Still, he kept telling himself, “It’s for Janold’s happiness. It’s a royal order!”

So, when His Highness the Crown Prince came to check in, he said:

“Annie… Were you a woman all along?”

“You idiot prince! This is all your fault!”

“Now, now, Annie. Women don’t use words like ‘idiot’.”

◇ ◇ ◇

Near noon, as the sunlight glistened on his covered neck, Anise anxiously fretted over his makeup possibly melting in the warmth that was enough to bead sweat on his nape.

Upon his arrival at the Laberi residence, he was promptly escorted to a separate wing where Miss Monica was said to reside.

Lotiana had chosen a dress matching his blond wig—an understated blend of ivory and deep green. The fabric was high quality, decorated with subtly shining buttons, tailored to disguise his shoulders. His chest sported the custom padding that created a modest, natural curve.

The distinctive amber eyes were hidden by drab spectacles, masking their color.

(Hopefully, Miss Monica will at least agree to an engagement with Janold—or perhaps that’s too optimistic. Ideally, she’ll accept me as her manners tutor and agree to attend the celebration, after which I’ll go home. I absolutely will.)

While Anise elegantly paced, lost in thought, the maid guiding him led him past a garden blooming with autumn roses.

They soon arrived at a secluded area by a small pond lined with quaint cobblestones, silent enough to hear only the occasional bird chirp.

The room Anise was shown to was hardly a parlor.

As soon as the door opened, a chill like midwinter slithered up his skirt. Though it was noon, the study’s curtains were drawn, casting it in darkness. Blinded by the dimness, he furrowed his brows.

The maid called, “Lady, your guest has arrived,” and from the shadows, something moved and raised its face. Two sharp hazel eyes glared straight at him.

“Are you Annie Vincent?”

Startled by her cool tone, he looked toward the back of the room.

—A piercing gleam.

In the dark, those hazel eyes fixed on him, piercing through.

She hadn’t even tidied her bronze-gold hair, though she knew she had a visitor. Books piled on the high table, and Miss Monica herself still had her hand on a book’s page. The room—unfit for hosting a guest—remained dusty and closed off, with the curtains shut.

Above all, her eyes were wild, like a wounded animal about to bite.

Clearly unwelcoming—a rejection.

Yet the moment their eyes met, for some reason, his heart leaped.

(This might be a tough one.)

Anise bowed gracefully, careful not to show he was taken aback.

“Honored to meet you. I’m Annie, appointed by the Marquis Laberi as your manners instructor.”

“A rather tall one, aren’t you? Please, raise your face.”

“Thank you, and, well, I take after my father.”

(Women’s anger or sarcasm is best met with a soft smile.)

Monica raised her eyebrows with a “hmph,” but soon glared at him again, twisting her mouth slightly.

“For Father’s choice, you’re quite lovely. Are your manners as refined, coming from an official’s family? Well, I suppose Father just has a thing for blondes.”

“To be called lovely is an honor.”

“Hmph… I’m Monica Laberi, eldest daughter of the Marquis Laberi. Would you care to sit?”

“If you would allow me.”

Anise wore a seemingly humble smile.

Under normal circumstances, Monica would invite him to sit—an educated lady would offer some reception in a parlor and invite her guest for tea. But here they were in her study, with her in a worn-out dress, her book still open.

(Now what? Leaving empty-handed would be painful. I have to secure a follow-up meeting somehow. I can’t back down.)

With a calm smile, he patiently waited to see her next move. Leaving now would be too much of a blow to his dignity after these past two weeks.

Dust floated in the light from behind him, catching between them before vanishing.

“Well then,” Monica murmured, her eyes falling back to her book as she twirled her disheveled golden curls.

“Actually, I just had tea a short while ago. Please, feel free to go to the parlor. Make yourself at home and leave whenever.”

(Got it!)

Anise deepened his smile, the picture of harmless charm.

“I must apologize for not syncing our timing better. Since you invited me to make myself at home, I propose our first lesson as a tea gathering.”

“What?”

Monica’s eyes shot up, nearly dropping her book.

“I’ll have a formal invitation delivered immediately. In the meantime, I’ll prepare. Miss Monica, I’ll excuse myself.”

With a gasp, her hazel eyes widened in surprise, and Anise bowed and turned to leave.

“First move complete,” he thought, as he stepped out of the detached wing at an unhurried pace.

A gentle breeze brushed him as he crossed the small pond, softening his gaze, and he headed back to the main house with a refined swish of his skirt.

(I need to gather information.)

The scent of roses tickled his nose.