Chapter 1 - The Princess Returns
"You were the lightning strike in the calm stretch of my life. One glance, and I was ruined for eternity."
"Good evening, Your Highness. I’m your devil of a butler—at your service."
Location: Arvenia Kingdom – Southport International Airport
Month: September – peak summer heat
The sun was merciless, baking the tarmac and terminal alike. Inside the airport, the air shimmered as if the whole building were an oven.
At three o’clock in the afternoon, a private jet traced a pristine white arc across Aurelia’s cobalt-blue sky before descending gracefully.
When the gate for Flight A11 opened, the noise of the crowd collapsed into stunned silence. A young woman stepped out, elegant and radiant, commanding every gaze.
She was barely twenty, tall and slender, golden curls tumbling down her back. A crystal hairpin swept her bangs aside, revealing a flawless forehead and a porcelain complexion that seemed almost luminous. Yet, her eyes were what captured every soul—icy blue, cold enough to cut and deep enough to drown in.
She wore an off-shoulder white dress clearly custom-made, its delicate chiffon layers dancing with each step. She radiated something unreachable, like sweet frozen fruit in the peak of summer—tempting but untouchable.
Phones lifted; whispers spread:
“Is she… royalty?”
“Look at that jet. That’s no commercial flight!”
She didn’t flinch, didn’t acknowledge them. Her chin tilted slightly upward, eyes detached, the natural arrogance of someone used to being admired but never approached.
Every few seconds, she checked her watch, and the faintest shadow of impatience flickered across her perfect features.
Then came the announcement—low, commanding, absolute:
“By order of the President of Aurelia, all civilians must vacate the main hall within three minutes. Comply immediately.”
Within moments, security swept the crowd out, leaving an uncanny stillness.
Footsteps echoed. A man emerged, wearing a gold-trimmed uniform, posture sharp, expression deferential. Stopping three meters from her, he bowed.
“Welcome home, Princess Seraphina of Arvenia. His Excellency knows you dislike crowds, so I came alone.”
She tossed her custom Chanel bag into his hands. “Rook, it’s been two years and you’ve slowed down. Efficiency clearly isn’t your strong suit anymore.”
“My apologies, Your Highness. Traffic was unusually bad.”
Her icy gaze sharpened. “Excuses? Because of your delay, I stood here like some zoo exhibit. Do you have any idea what that feels like?”
“Forgive me. They meant no harm, only admiration.”
A dangerous smile ghosted her lips. “Did you just talk back to me, Rook?”
He bowed deeper. “I would never.”
“You already did. Don’t forget—you were the one who shoved me onto that plane two years ago.”
“I accept any punishment you see fit.”
Seraphina twirled a strand of golden hair, her voice cooling. “Punishment? Don’t flatter yourself. The fault wasn’t entirely yours. I’m tired. Take me home.”
“As you command, Princess.” His tone was respectful, but the faint tremor in it betrayed him.
