President Baby's Bride

Chapter 7: Height Differences

Indeed, he was a true ice mountain. Those three syllables of her name dropped the room temperature dramatically. Thank goodness it was summer—at least they had natural cooling.

Leona maintained her harmonious smile while Lucian's face darkened ominously, the tension building to a breaking point.

Suddenly, a guard rushed in. "Your Highness, there's someone causing trouble outside!"

"Are you tired of living?" Lucian's lips twitched almost imperceptibly as he fixed his dark gaze on the guard.

Talk about bad timing—couldn't he read the room?

Leona gave the guard a sympathetic look: Brother, rest in peace! I'll pray for your soul!

The guard winced! He knew this minor disturbance could be handled with a simple dismissal, but— He glanced at Leona and continued with a pained expression, "Your Highness, she says her name is Elina, and she's looking for Leona... I mean, the future Crown Princess!"

"She says if we don't release her friend, she'll... she'll protest with banners. And she also... she cursed whoever ordered the arrest to be covered in boils and... and to have sons without... without bottoms..." The guard swallowed hard, barely managing to finish delivering this outrageous message.

The assembled staff froze. The one who ordered the arrest was, of course, their Crown Prince!

"Hehe! My dear Elina is just worried about me!" Leona laughed nervously, watching Lucian's expression darken to unprecedented levels. Internally, she was screaming. Trust Elina to be as bold as ever!

"Commoners will be commoners—utterly clueless. Remove her," Lucian's voice was winter-cold, accompanied by the sharp clink of his glass against the table. His eyes gleamed with murderous intent. The message was clear: remove her, or else.

But his words ignited something in Leona. Anger flared, and she let out a cold laugh. "Your Highness, yes, we are commoners, and you are nobility. We're beneath you—but did we ever beg for your attention?"

Everyone blinked. What was happening? The sarcasm was thick enough to cut with a knife!

In this continent, society was clearly divided between nobles and commoners. Those not appointed by the President were all commoners.

The nobility was structured into five ranks, from highest to lowest: Duke, Marquis, Earl, Viscount, and Baron.

These were further divided into hereditary nobility and life nobility. As the names suggested, hereditary nobles could pass their titles to descendants forever, while life nobles' titles died with them.

Knights also had their hierarchy, from Holy Knights down through seven ranks. Unlike the titled nobility, only Holy Knights truly entered noble society—the rest remained essentially commoners.

Leona understood all this perfectly—such social distinctions were essential knowledge for navigating society.

She glanced at Year, almost laughing. The eight virtues of knighthood: humility, honor, courage, sacrifice, compassion, spirituality, honesty, and justice. How many of those were actually in evidence here?

Even the Holy Knights were wrapped in darkness. Eight virtues? What a joke!

Year's face twitched almost imperceptibly at her knowing look, a rare blush crossing his features before his training reasserted itself. His internal thought: With His Highness, well... indeed!

Lucian's reaction was unreadable, his exquisite face darkening further. But suddenly, he let out a scornful laugh. "This Crown Prince stooping to choose you is your greatest honor!" Pure royal arrogance.

Leona rolled her eyes, though the others found his attitude perfectly normal. And perhaps it was, hehe!

"Honor? More like a heart attack waiting to happen," she muttered under her breath.

"What did you say?" Lucian's eyes narrowed, his lips curving into a beautifully dangerous arc. He hadn't caught her words but was certain they weren't complimentary.

"Want to know? Fine! I'll show you!" Instead of answering, Leona smiled brightly. Then, to everyone's horror, she stood up abruptly and pulled the little pudding prince to his feet.

Moving close beside him, Leona looked down at him with a superior smile. Under Lucian's steady gaze, she grinned.

"See this? This gap? It's wider than a mountain. Don't give me that 'distance makes the heart grow fonder' nonsense—that's just romantic comedy propaganda!"

"Look at us standing together! We're like a matchmaker's worst mistake, a complete comedy, totally mismatched."

She made a gesture, pointing at their height difference—she was 170cm, while he barely reached her shoulders. What a gap!

The assembled staff blinked nervously. True, Leona had a point, but then again... he was the Crown Prince! Hehe!

Lucian's expression grew darker. "What exactly are you trying to say?"

His tone had reached arctic levels. Would it snow in summer? But who cared?

She wanted to slap him—slap that royal attitude right off his face and make him back down!

In front of everyone, surely he wouldn't dare charge her with crimes for stating facts.

Taking a deep breath, Leona raised an eyebrow, one arm crossed over her chest while the other hand pinched his perfect little cheek. She smiled coquettishly. "In one word, little boy: You're beneath me!"

Such a soft voice, not harsh at all, but those words—

The staff nearly collapsed in shock! Someone dared to say the Crown Prince was beneath them? And pinched his cheek? Unprecedented!

What would their dark prince do in response?

All eyes turned to Lucian. He stood straight as a pine tree. As Leona released his cheek, he lowered his eyes, soft black bangs hiding his thoughts. No one could tell if he was angry or furious!

He remained frozen like that, not speaking, not moving, just standing there while waves of cold air slowly spread around him. Would it explode?

As they say, still waters run deep. Would they all be caught in the inevitable storm?

The guards and maids grew increasingly nervous, sweat beading on their foreheads as they awaited the explosion.

The silence stretched on, heavy with anticipation...

Suddenly, Lucian spoke, his voice eerily calm. "Beneath you, am I?"

A collective shiver ran through the room.

"Well then," he continued, finally looking up. His eyes gleamed with something that made everyone take an instinctive step back. "Perhaps we should address this... height difference."

He snapped his fingers, and Year stepped forward. "Bring me the palace architectural plans."

"The... architectural plans, Your Highness?"

"Yes. I believe we need to modify some floor levels. Specifically, everywhere the future Crown Princess might walk should be lowered by... oh, let's say 30 centimeters?"

Leona's jaw dropped. "You wouldn't."

"This Crown Prince never jokes about engineering projects." His smile was pure evil. "Of course, that would take time. In the meantime..."

He clapped twice, and servants wheeled in what looked like...

"Is that a mechanical throne?" Leona asked incredulously.

"Hydraulically adjustable," Lucian corrected primly. "Now then, shall we continue breakfast with you properly looking up at me?"

"You're insane!"

"I prefer 'innovative.'" He climbed onto the throne, which whirred softly as it elevated him to perfect glaring height. "Much better. Now, what were you saying about being beneath anyone?"

Leona stared at him, torn between horror and reluctant admiration. This demon child had literally elevated himself rather than accept her taunt about height differences.

"You know," she said finally, "most people would just wait to grow taller."

"Most people aren't me." He smirked down at her from his mechanical perch. "Now, about your friend outside—"

"If you hurt Elina, I'll—"

"Hurt her? Please." He waved dismissively. "I merely thought she might appreciate a front-row seat to watch her beloved friend bow to her future husband. Year, please escort her in."

Leona's eyes narrowed. "I am not bowing to you."

"No?" His smile widened. "Then perhaps we should discuss those medieval torture devices after all. I'm particularly interested in testing the rack—it has such fascinating effects on height differentials."

The staff held their breath, watching this battle of wills with a mixture of terror and fascination. Would their future Crown Princess back down? Would their Crown Prince actually resort to medieval torture? (Given his recent chemical experiments, it seemed worryingly possible.)

Then Elina burst in, took one look at Lucian on his elevated throne, and burst out laughing.

"Oh my god, Leona! You made him get a booster seat!"

The temperature in the room plummeted to absolute zero.

"Year," Lucian said very, very quietly, "perhaps we should demonstrate those torture devices after all."

Just another breakfast in the royal palace.