Chapter2

I looked at her exquisitely powdered face and suddenly let out a laugh.

"Do you know what the dragons in Dragon Valley love to say the most right before they die?"

Elena blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"They say—'Just you wait, my dad will be right here.'"

Someone couldn't hold back and snorted out a laugh. Elena’s face flushed crimson, and she lunged forward, raising her hand to slap me.

I sidestepped. She swiped at empty air and crashed into the edge of the counter. Riding her momentum, I hooked my foot around her ankle—thud—and she collapsed right next to the heavy-set shopkeeper.

"How dare you!" she shrieked from the floor.

I dusted off my hands. "What makes you think I wouldn't dare?"

"Gods, how dare she fight back!"

"Elena is Arthur's woman. Is this girl insane?!"

"No one can save her now. Once the magic swordsmen get here, limbs are going to roll..."

Listening to their whispers, I felt barely a ripple of emotion. My mother had once told me that Arthur's entire family was propped up by ours.

If Arthur truly cared about this engagement, his priority would have been "who is the real fiancée," not "who fell down." I wanted to see exactly which question would be his first words.

The heavy thud of iron-clad boots echoed, and everyone instantly fell dead silent. A few people hugged the walls and slipped out the side doors. A squad of magic swordsmen stormed in, parting to both sides to clear a path.

Arthur walked in.

He wore silver-threaded black robes with a snow wolf crest. He was remarkably tall and undeniably handsome—my mother's taste in picking a face perfectly matched my own.

His gaze swept across the shop, brushed past the kneeling shopkeeper, and finally landed on me.

His eyes traveled from the mud-caked tips of my boots to my frayed cuffs, and finally up to my face. He furrowed his brow.

Instinctively, I straightened my spine and tugged at the muddy hem of my robes. I reached out a hand, just about to say, "I am Rosa, your fiancée"—

"You?" he spoke first, his voice dripping with mockery. "The one on the other end of the comm crystal claiming to be my fiancée... was she dressed like this too?"

I was momentarily at a loss for words and looked down at my ruined robes.

His gaze completely bypassed my outstretched hand. He walked straight over to Elena, leaned down, and personally helped her up from the floor.

Elena immediately threw herself into his arms. "Arthur! This bitch tried to steal the wand I picked out and even used a fake black card to trick the shopkeeper! I told her I was your fiancée, but she didn't believe me and pushed me to the floor! Look at my wrist... it's all red from the fall..."

She shoved her wrist in front of his face. In reality, there was only a faint, shallow white mark; the skin wasn't even scraped.

Arthur gently held her wrist, cast a brief look at it, and then looked up at me again.

"My father did mention a marriage arrangement," he said, his tone lacking even a sliver of hesitation. "But I have never met you, nor do I have any interest in doing so. If you really were my fiancée, why would you look like—"

His gaze swept over me once more.

He pulled Elena close to his side. "This is more like it. My territory, my fiancée, my decision. Do I make myself clear?"

Elena rose onto her tiptoes and kissed his lips, and he lowered his head, passionately responding to her.

I stood frozen in place, watching the two of them lose themselves in each other, a suffocating ache tightening my chest.

It wasn't because he refused to acknowledge me—he had absolutely no idea who was standing in front of him. He had taken exactly three seconds, merely glanced at my boots and cuffs, and reached a conclusion: it was impossible for me to be his fiancée.

"Did you hear that?" Elena leaned against his shoulder. "Arthur said he only acknowledges me as his fiancée."

"That's enough," Arthur said, raising a hand to cut her off. Looking dead at me, he ordered the shopkeeper, "Wrap that wand up. Give it to her right in front of this outlander. Let it serve as a lesson—don't use such a pathetic excuse to run a scam next time."

With violently trembling hands, the shopkeeper packed the wand and offered it up to Elena. She snatched the box, and without even sparing it a glance, carelessly tossed it to a servant. "See this clearly? This is what we call rules. What exactly does a low-class mage like you have to compete with me?"

The magic swordsmen chuckled a few more times.

My hands hung limply at my sides, my fingernails digging painfully deep into my palms. I continuously reminded myself not to strike; this was the territory of Arthur's family, and I was heavily outnumbered.

And then, I smiled.

"What are you smiling at?" Arthur furrowed his brow.

I reached out, delving into the depths of my storage ring to pull out that ancient silver ring—the one my brother had urgently sent via magical teleportation and had a courier deliver to me. Arthur's family crest was intricately carved into the metal face.

"Go back and tell your father that this engagement ends here."

I relaxed my fingers. The ring plummeted, hitting the stone floor with a sharp clank. It rolled twice before coming to a dead stop next to the tip of his boot.

"It is you, blind as you are, who isn't worthy of me."

Having said my piece, I turned around and prepared to walk out of the shop.

"Stop right there."