TRFDTV ~ 01

Chapter – 01

May 23rd, Imperial Year 532.

The Grand Duke’s mansion, central hall.

“Excuse me.”

The count’s young lady tilted her chin up with a smile. Fine pearl powder was smeared unevenly across her face.

“If you only have one dress, I’ll give you one of my spares. Not lend—give. After all, no one could possibly wear a dress again once you have touched it, whoever you are.”

The count’s daughter easily mocked the woman before her, lacing each word with derision.

Many had dared to crawl into the Grand Duke’s mansion that day, aiming for the seat beside the Grand Duke himself—the selection party for the Grand Duchess.

Though the invitations didn’t say it outright, every single noble house in the Empire knew what this gathering meant.

And so, the count’s daughter decided to play the villain for everyone else’s sake.

It was a role she was quite used to.

From the many clumsy country girls who had never shown their faces in central society, she picked one that stood out unpleasantly—perhaps too much.

Maybe it was just a feeling, but… unlike the rest, this woman carried a strange aura.
Even without meeting anyone’s eyes, she couldn’t conceal her presence—like a white heron among black crows, or a needle hidden in a pouch that somehow still pricked the skin.

But the count’s daughter was sure she’d crushed her under one glass of wine and three inches of her tongue.

She had never seen this woman in the capital before—clearly not from any powerful family. The bright red hair was a slight concern, but if she were truly a descendant of that house, the entire Empire would hardly be this quiet.

“If you need money for a new dress, I’ll pay. Will one of my earrings do?”

Her words dripped with condescension. Laughter burst here and there among the gathered nobles.

The woman, however, gave no reply.

She simply looked once at her own bodice—soaked in dark red wine—and then at the count’s daughter who had deliberately spilled it, before slowly sweeping her gaze around the hall.

Everyone in that grand and glittering place fell into one of three kinds:
Those who laughed and jeered at her misfortune.
Those who simply watched in silence.
And those who joined the mockery openly with malicious delight.

The count’s daughter, smiling with cheap satisfaction, opened her mouth again—but froze.

Why wasn’t the woman reacting?

She wasn’t crying in humiliation, nor lashing out in anger.
She merely gazed back, quietly, with glass-clear blue eyes.

And then—just faintly, so faintly that it could have been imagined—the woman smiled.

The count’s daughter’s jaw twitched involuntarily.

Those empty, icy blue eyes—so devoid of emotion—cut into her like finely honed blades.

“How dare you look at me like that—you insolent—!”

Her voice was sharply severed by another: calm, low, and perfectly steady. The voice of a servant of the Grand Duke’s household.

“His Grace, the Grand Duke of Caliente, enters.”

The hall fell silent—utterly still, like the air had been sucked away.

All eyes turned to the door as it opened without a sound.

And there he was.

The Grand Duke.

He moved like the deep, sunken night—silent, heavy, inevitable.
Each slow step toward the center of the hall pressed down on every chest, bowed every stiff neck.

Then he stopped.

Every gaze, every breath followed his.

At the end of his line of sight stood the woman.

The one with the blazing red hair.
The one drenched in wine, mocked by all.

Then came the Grand Duke’s voice—low, resonant, rising from some fathomless abyss:

“Asili.”

Every head in the hall turned sharply toward her.

And she—
like a flame that burned away all impurity—
the woman who had worn the face of an expressionless doll, smiled.
A brilliant, radiant smile that softened her lips like sunlight on snow.

The onlookers, wide-eyed, could not look away—moths drawn to fire.

She took a step toward the Grand Duke. He took one toward her.

When they stood close enough that their breaths mingled, Asili raised a finger and lightly tapped his chest. Then, with deliberate slowness, she brushed the wine from her own bodice.

The Grand Duke’s brow creased—and her lips, red as her hair, parted to speak a word no one had ever dared to utter aloud.

“Ludwig.”

Her voice was gentle—but her words struck like thunder.

A silent uproar rippled through the hall. Not a sound escaped, yet everyone screamed within.

Every noblewoman who had gathered from across the Empire to vie for the Grand Duke’s side was struck dumb.

She spoke his name?
That name?

Even the Crown Prince himself would not dare call the Grand Duke by name.

Yet Ludwig looked at no one else—saw no one else—but Asili.

“What happened?” he asked.

“It was just a little accident. Or perhaps,” she smiled, glancing at the count’s daughter, “a petty act of malice.”

“If it was an accident, it means the young lady was too nervous. If it was harassment, it was disgracefully low. Either way, she’s far too foolish for such a distinguished occasion.”

Her words were colder than frost, though her smile bloomed like a rose.
The count’s daughter flushed crimson, unable to even open her mouth this time.

Asili leaned lightly against Ludwig’s arm, her lips barely moving as she whispered.

“I expected something like this to happen.”

“Just not this perfectly, hm?” he murmured.

“Did you hear what she said? It was almost word for word what I told you before the party. Creepy, really—but it was all so predictable it was almost satisfying.”

Ludwig followed her gaze, his pale blue eyes darkening like a deep sea.

The “expectation” she referred to was that someone would humiliate and insult her.

The count’s daughter—so proud of being the trendsetter of cruelty—turned deathly pale when Ludwig’s gaze brushed her for even an instant.
It was so brief she didn’t even realize why her body trembled.

Ludwig drew Asili a little closer.

“Are you hurt?”

“Of course not. My skin may be soft, but it doesn’t tear or bruise from a splash of wine.”

Now pressed close—perhaps indecently so—they looked as though they belonged that way.
But Asili didn’t seem to notice or mind.

Or rather, that closeness had always been natural to them.
When they met in dreams.
And now, when the dream had become reality.

Asili glanced down at the dark stain on her dress, then spoke softly.

“Would you help me?”

Before she’d even finished speaking, Ludwig had already untied the ribbon at the back of her gown.

No one could have imagined anything more shocking than Asili calling the Grand Duke by his name—until now.
Until, before all their eyes, the Grand Duke himself—at the center of the grand hall, surrounded by every noble in the Empire—undid a lady’s dress.

The audience’s eyes went wide, breath stuck in their throats.

Swish.

Who would have thought the sound of fabric sliding could fill a hall so silent?

In Ludwig’s hand, the wine-stained portion of her gown came away—only that section, and no more.

What lay beneath made every jaw drop.

Her gown beneath matched Ludwig’s uniform perfectly—designed as if the two were meant to stand side by side.

“Thank you,” Asili said.

“Always,” he replied.

He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it, his eyes crinkling faintly at the corners.

After so many shocks, no one even had the energy left to be surprised that the Grand Duke—of all people—was smiling.
At someone.
In public.

The hall drowned in chaos and confusion, but not a single word was spoken.

No one dared.
They all needed time to decide whether this was real—or a very cruel dream.

Whoever this mysterious woman was, whatever obscure province she had come from—it no longer mattered.

What mattered now was that Asili stood at Ludwig’s side.

But even that thought didn’t last.

“For now, I suppose introductions are overdue,” Ludwig said.

All eyes turned toward him again.

Asili straightened her back, chin slightly lowered, giving a graceful nod.

And then Ludwig spoke the words that shattered the hall’s last composure.

The revelation that stunned them all—the truth that none of them had guessed.

The descendant of that family had returned.

“Lady Asili Bolsheik, daughter of the Duke of Bolsheik.”