IGMU 04

Chapter  04

‘Ah, there was one more thing.’

At the academy entrance ceremony, between the dean’s address and the valedictorian’s oath, the student council president at the time—Prince Franz—had delivered a speech on behalf of the students. Among the excited and lively freshmen, he stood out in an almost alien way.

Franz Princeton.

With his tall, lean frame and dazzling blond hair that seemed to shine, it was only natural that he made the freshmen’s hearts race. Just attending the same academy as him filled them with pride.

The straight, elegant way he walked onto the podium, the refined phrasing carried by a deep, resonant voice, and the natural nobility ingrained in his presence all combined into something effortlessly graceful. Watching him, people naturally thought: As expected of someone born royal.

Even Iella, who had always been indifferent and disliked being swept up in things since childhood, had once, during her naive freshman days, blushed while watching him from afar. It wasn’t admiration in the same way other girls felt it. Rather, it was something like a higher form of reverence.

For her—someone who had no interest in men or marriage—this had once been a quiet satisfaction, something she was content to observe from a distance. Now, it felt like a hollow memory, as if it had never truly existed.

Unfortunately, that object of admiration only brought disappointment as time passed. The prince’s behavior, which pierced the hearts of countless adolescent girls, could not exactly be called proper—but even so, his reputation remained spotless.

Perhaps because even the rumors could not tarnish him in the slightest?

If the rumors were true, any woman who became his one-night partner would be discarded soon after—but despite that, women still longed to be his.

Every woman in the capital city of Billn seemed desperate to be close to him.

Noble ladies believed they were different from actresses of common or low birth, while commoners dreamed of even one night by his side.

Of course, excluding herself. Ah—and her younger sister, Louisa, as well.

Louisa had said she already liked someone.

‘Surely it’s not Prince Franz, right?’

For a brief moment, the thought flickered, but she quickly dismissed it. It probably wasn’t him. Louisa had once said she didn’t like that type of man.

‘Good thinking, Louisa.’

She felt proud of her younger sister, who was the opposite of her own reserved personality. With beauty worthy of being called the jewel of high society, and the elegance of a refined lady, she was admirable.

“What exactly is so appealing about a man with such a notorious womanizing reputation?”

Iella tapped the photograph of Franz with her fingertips and muttered in irritation.

In the old days, keeping concubines or mistresses had been common, but in this era, such a scandalous romantic philosophy was outrageous. He was nothing like Crown Prince Frederick.

“Well, there are also nobles who keep mistresses quietly while pretending to be respectable…”

She clicked her tongue softly.

“Honestly, whichever woman becomes his wife, she’ll be pitiful.”

With a sigh of disdain, Iella muttered under her breath.

Before noon, the social club was still relatively quiet. Among those discussing topics or reading books, Franz stood out unmistakably.

Leaning deeply into the sofa with his legs crossed and sipping whiskey in an arrogant posture, he looked languid—like the sun at midday.

“Hey. What brings His Highness to the club at this hour? Shouldn’t it be the middle of the night for you?”

Richard approached him with a lazy grin.

“That’s not something you should be saying.”

They had left the club together just a few hours earlier, in the pre-dawn hours. Despite the teasing remark, Richard only shrugged.

“Lady Countess Morris was especially naggy today. I couldn’t even sleep. Anyway, what are you really doing here? Aren’t you busy romancing the century’s romanticist?”

Richard smiled teasingly as he asked.

“Ah.”

Franz recognized the reference to today’s newspaper article and let out a faint laugh. In fact, he had already been summoned to the palace that morning because of it.

After an all-nighter, when he had just returned to Grenville and entered his bedroom, a summons to the palace had arrived—at dawn.

Though he had been urgently called to the palace early in the morning, Franz was perfectly dressed.

His mother, Queen Elisabeth, looked at her son with satisfaction and nodded.

It was clear this wasn’t going to end with just a brief conversation. That suspicion was confirmed when she placed a newspaper on the table.

“Franz. If you have something to say, go ahead.”

Her tone felt deliberate—like she had set aside the entire morning for this.

Franz, leaning comfortably on the sofa, met her gaze and then looked out the window. The early morning garden, bustling with life, shimmered under the sunlit fountain. It was a peaceful scene.

“You already know, Mother. This is not something you need to concern yourself with.”

“Not something I need to concern myself with?”

“There is nothing to worry about. And nothing like that will happen either.”

At his calm voice, Elisabeth studied him silently with cold, composed eyes. After a pause, she spoke again.

“Marriages based solely on lineage often fail. Of course, I don’t approve of them either. But one must at least be suitable for introduction to the royal family.”

Her gaze asked if he understood.

Franz nodded as if it were obvious.

“I understand.”

“Good. Then make sure you avoid becoming the subject of such gossip. Do not let strange rumors spread.”

“Yes.”

In his blue eyes, a subtle light flickered—almost like he was thinking he should either sweep everything away or simply buy it all up.

“By the way… you don’t intend to marry?”

Her voice sounded like a sigh, almost a complaint. Franz’s expression stiffened for a moment.

Damn it. So that’s what this was about.

Marriage again.

His head began to throb. Even if he said he wasn’t interested, every year the pressure continued, and during social season it became unbearable.

Franz quickly replaced his stiff expression with a smile.

“Why are you so desperate to marry me off, Mother?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You refuse to marry, spend time with friends, and just wander about.”

“I think I’m still young enough to enjoy myself.”

“Hmph. That age has passed. You should settle down now.”

She seemed determined to nag him without end. Franz swallowed a sigh.

“I’m busy.”

“Even if you are busy, you must marry. You can’t keep appearing in gossip like this.”

“I’ll do it when the time comes.”

“When is that?”

If he knew, he would’ve run away long ago. But if he said that, his mother would likely faint from rage.

“I wonder that myself.”

“Oh dear… when will this ever end…”

Elisabeth let out a long sigh.

“Franz, you must build a family to stabilize your surroundings and develop responsibility.”

“Yes.”

“When your heart is stable, it will help with your work too. So this year at least—”

Franz let her words flow in one ear and out the other. He had long grown used to responding automatically.

He was tired from lack of sleep, but that also meant he didn’t need to think too deeply about her words.

He had been hearing about marriage for years. Sometimes he even thought, Wouldn’t I be spared these early morning summons if I just married someone? But the idea of a political marriage chosen out of pressure disgusted him.

Franz, who had been leaning on the sofa, straightened and poured whiskey into his and Richard’s glasses. The golden liquid shimmered in the crystal glass.

“You’re drinking already?”

Richard said it, but made no move to refuse.

“I didn’t expect you to be reading such low-grade gossip sheets, Your Excellency.”

“If you’re referring to Publica, the most influential press in LaPlande, then yes.”

Richard shrugged cheerfully and raised his glass. Franz watched him bring it to his lips before taking a sip of his own whiskey.

Just then, Marco—the young heir of the Rondiaz Marquis family—approached them with a cheerful wave.

“Hey! The protagonist of the century’s romance is here!”

In Marco’s hand was, unsurprisingly, the newspaper in question. Richard chuckled.

Franz had long since grown used to this routine.

Marco, as expected, shoved the front page of the paper right in front of his face.

Franz narrowed his eyes and glanced over the article indifferently.

“Prince Franz, the century’s romanticist, rents out an entire restaurant for Agnes!”

At the headline, Franz let out a short laugh. The accompanying photo was even more ridiculous.

“Is this the best picture they could manage… tsk.”

“Paparazzi photos are always like that,” Richard said, laughing. “They’re probably afraid of ending up like Greg Kuiper.”

Greg Kuiper was known as one of the most vicious paparazzi.

“He was a real piece of work.”

Richard shook his head, chuckling.

The reason for the past tense was that Greg Kuiper had once tried to take a nude photo of Franz, only to end up nearly dead—barely clinging to life along with his camera. Since then, paparazzi had learned to behave.

“And the quality of this article is absurd,” Franz said.

“Agreed. Even if you photographed Franz with your feet, it would look better than this.”

“They should reconsider whether Publica deserves its reputation.”

Despite their cold remarks, Franz’s expression remained calm and indifferent as he read on.

Rumors suggest that Prince Franz and Agnes, soprano of the Royal Opera Company, are closely involved.

According to an anonymous restaurant employee, Prince Franz rented an entire restaurant on the 19th, Agnes’s birthday, and hosted a lavish celebration.

He is also said to have visited the opera house where Agnes was performing and watched the show. Afterward, he went backstage and presented her with 100 roses.

At the mention of “100 roses,” Franz couldn’t help but laugh.

One rose had somehow become a hundred.

He recalled Agnes begging him for even a single rose before her performance ended.

Too annoyed to deal with her sulking, he had casually handed her a single rose taken from a vase in the hallway.

He could have arranged a hundred roses as a farewell gift, but his patience had already run out.

Agnes smiled sweetly and thanked him, while he felt no guilt at all.

Considering what she was plotting behind his back, even that small gesture had been generous.

Franz skimmed the carefully written nonsense until the last line made him exhale sharply.

…As public interest grows regarding the true nature of Prince Franz’s event for Agnes’s birthday, attention now turns to who will become the lady of Grenville.

Franz folded the newspaper neatly in half and tossed it onto the table.

“So nowadays Publica writes fiction as well,” he said with a dry laugh, his gaze turning disinterested.