"Get it together, Clara," she hissed to herself, slapping her cheeks lightly. "You are a side character. You are a footnote. You are a corpse if you don't stick to the script."
She pulled a small, leather-bound notebook from beneath her pillow- her most prized and dangerous possession. In it, she had scribbled everything she remembered from the web novel A Golden Crown for my Beloved.
She flipped to a fresh page, the quill scratching aggressively against the parchment as she began to write her strategy. At the top of the page, she wrote in bold, underlined letters:
THE HEROINE'S HAREM AND POSSIBLE TARGETS FOR REDIRECTION
1. Nikolai von Solari (The Cold Duke of the North)
Role: The Main Lead. STRICTLY FOR LEANNE. NON-NEGOTIABLE.
Assessment: STAY AWAY. I saw him in the alley; the "fated" spark with Leanne is already active. If Veronica gets a whiff of him, the jealousy arc starts, the poison comes out, and I end up on a gallows.
Verdict: Keep him 100% isolated from the Princess.
She added another line, darker this time
Addendum: Keep him as far away from Princess Veronica as humanly possible. Any overlap risks triggering the original "jealousy - poisoning - public execution" route.
A pause.
"…And I quite like having a head attached to my body," she muttered.
2. Prince Vincent von Aethelgard (The Golden Brother)
Role: The "Perfect" Crown Prince.
Assessment: He's her brother, so he's a biological dead-end for romance
Personality: He was the "Kind Second Lead" who supported Leanne from the shadows. He's diplomatic, charming, and a bit of a puppet master.
3. Kaelen of the Magic Tower
Role:The Youngest Archmage.
Assessment: A member of the Elite Magic Tower.
Clara's writing grew a little neater here, more thoughtful.
Note: Renowned genius mage. Significant contributions during the Northern Campaign. Strong reputation within the Magic Tower- aligning with him benefits both political and magical standing.
She tapped her quill once.
Compatibility Index: High.
Reasoning: Comparable intellect to Veronica. Capable of engaging her without being overshadowed. Likely one of the few individuals who could keep up with her.
Verdict: Use only as a last resort. He's too chaotic.
4. Commander Silas Vane (The Loyal Shield) - BEST CANDIDATE
Role: Commander of the Imperial Guard.
Assessment: He is the definition of "sturdy."
Stoic, honorable, and possesses biceps the size of my head. He's the most "normal" of the bunch.
Primary Advantage: Safe.
She underlined that word. Twice.
Secondary Advantage: Personality parallels with Nikolai (reserved, capable, quietly intense), but without the narrative baggage that leads to catastrophic outcomes.
A pause.
Then-
Strategic Plan: Encourage Veronica's interest in military affairs - increase time spent at barracks - increase exposure to Commander Vane - gradual redirection of attention.
Clara leaned back slightly, staring at the entry.
"…Yes," she murmured, "this one won't kill me."
***
"Good morning, Your Highness," Clara said, her voice clipped and efficient. She didn't look up from her bag. She didn't offer a smile. She didn't even notice the way Veronica's eyes brightened the moment she entered the room, only to dim into a confused, sharp narrowness at the cold greeting.
"Tutor," Veronica replied, her voice dropping into that low, dangerous velvet. She was lounging in her chair, a single leg crossed over the other, looking like a queen who had just been insulted. "You're late by fifty seconds."
Veronica expected a witty banter but-
"My apologies. It won't happen again."
She sat stiffly, her posture mirroring the rigid marble statues of the alcoves, her gaze fixed firmly on the open textbook.
"Today's lecture," Clara began, her voice brittle and professional, "is on the History of Marriages in the Aethelgard Family and its Ethics. Specifically, the long-standing debate: Should the Crown marry for love, or for the consolidation of power?"
Clara slid a thick, leather-bound genealogy across the table. It was a shield, a physical barrier she hoped would keep the Princess at arm's length.
Veronica didn't even glance at the book. She leaned back in her chair, her silver hair spilling over the dark mahogany like liquid moonlight. Her violet eyes were fixed entirely on the way Clara's pulse was hammering against the thin skin of her throat.
While Clara went on- rambling far too quickly about lesson structures, noble alliances, and the strategic importance of well-matched marriages-her words began to blur into a soft, indistinct stream of sound.
Veronica wasn't listening.
Not to the content, anyway.
Her attention had narrowed-precise, deliberate-onto something far more… interesting.
Clara.
Her breathing was uneven. Not obvious, not to anyone untrained- but Veronica had been raised in a court where noticing the smallest shifts meant the difference between advantage and humiliation.
It was faster than normal.
Just slightly.
Just enough.
She's breathing too fast. Her pupils are blown wide. She's terrified of me. Or perhaps... she's terrified of how much she wants to stay.
"Power," Veronica interjected, her voice a low, vibrating hum that made Clara jump. "Historically, the Aethelgards have always chosen power. My grandfather married the Duchess of the East to secure the grain trade. My father married my mother to strengthen the imperial bloodline- her magic was too valuable to ignore."
Clara nodded quickly, too quickly. "Exactly. It is the duty of the Imperial Bloodline to prioritize the stability of the Empire over... fleeting personal whims."
"Whims?" Veronica repeated. She stood up, the silk of her gown hissing against the floor. She walked slowly toward Clara's side of the table. "Is that what you call it, Tutor? If I were to find someone who made the very air in my lungs feel heavy... someone whose scent I could find in a crowded place with my eyes closed... you would call that a whim?"
Clara's fingers gripped the edge of the table. "It is a distraction from your destiny, Your Highness. For instance, look at Commander Silas Vane. He is a man of the people. Marrying someone of his standing would secure the loyalty of the military and the commoners alike. It is a... sturdy choice."
Veronica's eyes narrow. The air in the room suddenly feels five degrees colder. "Silas? That boring man? Why him?"
"Because," Clara says, her voice squeaking slightly as she feels the weight of Veronica's attention, "he is a man of... exceptional character. Very reliable. Very... muscular."
Veronica walks toward her, the silk of her gown hissing against the floor. She stops just inches away.
I once humored her little schemes of finding me someone 'interesting,' but this… this is hardly amusing.
Veronica stopped behind Clara's chair. She didn't touch her, but she leaned down, her breath warm against the shell of Clara's ear.
"The ethics of the matter are simple, Clara," Veronica whispered. "Power is easy to take. It is a matter of swords and gold. But love? Love is the only thing an Empress cannot command. And I find that... infinitely more valuable."
Clara swallowed hard, her eyes fixed on the genealogy chart. "The book says-,"
"The book was written by men who died alone in drafty castles," Veronica interrupted. She reached over Clara's shoulder, her hand hovering just inches above Clara's own. She pointed to a name on the chart: Empress Susan the Bold. "She married her court scribe. The Empire didn't fall. In fact, it prospered."
Clara fell silent. And then, "A-are you that in love with the Duke that you can't look at other people?"
Veronica's hand stayed where it was, the warmth of her skin radiating against Clara's shoulder. At the mention of Nikolai, the air in the drafty library seemed to thin. Veronica's eyes widened, her pupils blooming like ink on parchment. She felt a sudden, sharp tremor in her chest.
"Nikolai?" Veronica repeated, the name feeling strangely dusty on her tongue.
She pulled her hand back, tucking it into the folds of her velvet skirt as if it had been burned. "Yes, of course I love Nikolai. I have since we were children. He is... he is the standard."
For some unexplained reason, Clara's heart ached. She looked away, her gaze drifting toward the heavy oak doors.
"But," Veronica continued, her voice dropping to a soft, confused murmur, "to be honest, I haven't been thinking of him much lately. Not at all, actually."
Her hand shifted-barely-and this time, her fingers brushed against Clara's.
Light.
Accidental.
Or perhaps-not.
Veronica didn't pull away immediately.
"...You've been keeping me occupied," she said.
The words should have sounded dismissive.
They didn't.
If anything, they carried something softer. Stranger. Something she hadn't quite learned how to name.
Her gaze lingered too long.
Clara's presence had become… constant.
Expected.
Necessary.
Veronica's chest tightened faintly.
Annoying.
Inconvenient.
Unacceptable.
Because this-
This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
A princess admired a duke.
A woman married a man.
Affection followed structure. Order. Expectation.
That was how the world worked.
That was how it had always worked.
So why-
Her fingers curled slightly against the edge of the desk.
Why did her thoughts keep circling back-
Not to Nikolai.
But to-
Veronica's breath caught, subtle but sharp.
Her eyes dropped, almost instinctively, to Clara's lips- moving, breathing, close- before snapping back up as if the motion itself had burned her.
No.
That was-
That was wrong.
Illogical.
There was no precedent for it. No model. No explanation she could reach for and make sense of.
It felt like stepping onto ground that didn't exist.
And yet-
She didn't move away.
Didn't create distance.
Didn't correct herself.
Veronica straightened slightly, composure sliding back into place with practiced ease-but not perfectly.
Not this time.
"…It's irrelevant," she said, more sharply than before.
But the edge lacked conviction.
Her gaze lingered on Clara again- searching, almost, like she was trying to understand something just out of reach.
"…Isn't it?" she added, softer now.
The question wasn't directed at Clara.
Not really.
It hung there-
Unanswered.
Because for the first time in a long time-
Veronica wasn't entirely sure what she was supposed to feel.