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Chapter 18
“Oh my! Your Highness, the Princess!”
In ‘Don’t Fight Over Me, Handsome You Two!’, the only princesses related to Claude were his older and younger sisters—
and even then, they never actually appeared in the original story.
They had even fewer mentions than Chase. At least Chase had a name and a face. The princesses didn’t even get a single line of description.
So… a princess just popping up out of nowhere?
Iva turned her head at the unexpected announcement, only for her expression to freeze at the sight of an impossible figure.
“Th–That’s impossible.”
The one being called Princess was none other than the heroine, Julian Lawrence.
Clear, wide eyes like a rabbit’s, porcelain skin, red lips, and a dainty nose. Soft cheeks and flawless, pure features.
A smile full of innocence and naivety—enough to make anyone fall in love.
It was unmistakably the same Julian whom Iva had never once beaten.
“Your Highness!”
“It really is Her Highness the Princess!”
But she looked nothing like her past life.
Gone were the long golden hair and leaf-green eyes.
Now, she had radiant silver hair and blue eyes—the very marks of the Imperial family.
Julian appeared before everyone, not as the Lawrence family’s adopted daughter, but as Princess Julian Begen Elihu.
“This… doesn’t make any sense…”
Iva stared at her blankly, unable to believe it.
Julian accepted all the attention as though she were used to it, scanning the room quickly as if searching for someone.
When she spotted him, her eyes curved in delight.
And, of course, the person she called to with a smile full of sunlight was—
“Rai!”
Julian hurried past Iva and all but threw herself into Rai’s arms, hugging him tightly around the waist.
The force of her embrace made Rai startle, but he still caught her in time.
The scene fit perfectly into a romance novel—the moment the two leads’ love begins.
Iva stared at it with a look of pure distaste.
“…Your Highness, there are many eyes watching,” Rai murmured.
But his eyes flickered toward Iva as he gently pushed Julian away—as if he’d just been caught cheating.
What the heck? You’re clearly falling for Julian, so why are you looking at me? Iva was baffled by his glance.
Rai let go of Julian, but she paid no mind and clasped his hand.
“I can’t help being happy to see you. Rai, didn’t you miss me?”
“How did you come to the palace? Is your health better?”
“I’ve recovered a lot, so I came to see His Majesty and Mother. And when I heard you were here, I came straight away.”
Watching from a distance, Iva sidled up to Pell and whispered,
“Pell, I’m a bit confused. Was the Princess Claude’s younger sister… or older sister?”
She just wanted to confirm if Julian really was royalty now.
“His younger sister, of course. She was frail since birth and went away to recuperate, so she rarely came to the capital,” Pell replied.
“What was her name again?”
With a look that said why are you asking something so obvious, Pell answered,
“Her Highness, Princess Julian Begen Elihu.”
So her name hadn’t changed. Then how had the story twisted this way?
In all three of Iva’s lives, she had always been Iva Blanche. Same character every time.
She’d been executed before—so why had Julian, who’d survived just fine before, become a completely different character?
Unlike Iva’s confusion, the air between Julian and Rai was warm and cozy.
“I’m glad Your Highness is feeling better.”
“I think it’s thanks to you worrying about me so much.”
That tender exchange snapped Iva out of her daze.
Whether Julian was the Lawrence family’s daughter or a princess, it didn’t matter. If she got involved, Iva would die just the same.
So she turned her body away from the pair, determined to ignore them.
“Lady Iva.”
At some point, Julian had walked right up to her, meeting her gaze.
“Yes? Were you calling me?”
“Yes, I was.”
That direct look was uncomfortable.
“I heard you need an invitation to attend this party. Is that true?”
“…Yes. That’s correct.”
In her last life, they’d spoken formally. Sometimes Iva had slipped into casual speech, but Julian never had.
Now, that easy use of informal speech—fueled by her newfound status—was oddly infuriating.
“As you know, I’ve just arrived at the palace, so I don’t have an invitation. But I still want to attend. Is that a problem?”
She invoked her royal privilege without the slightest guilt.
And what did that make Iva, who’d turned away people begging for invitations?
Rules were rules, and Iva wanted to tell her to leave immediately. But Julian wasn’t a count’s daughter anymore—and Iva didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to herself.
“This party is for those with invitations. But I suppose Your Highness came to see Prince Claude?”
“Of course. To see my dear brother… and Rai.”
Who wanted to know she’d come for Rai? Iva already felt sick of their budding romance.
Endure it, Iva. Endure it and you’ll get your big payout from Claude and leave this place for good.
“Then you’re more than welcome. As royalty, of course! Ha ha ha.”
It was the stiffest, most awkward laugh she’d given in all three lives.
“Here, please take this.”
Iva handed her own invitation to Julian.
“There will be an event in the third part of the party that requires an invitation. Without one, you can’t participate, so I’ll give you mine.”
“Oh? Are you sure?”
“Yes, it’s fine.”
Julian’s large eyes sparkled as she took the invitation and clasped both of Iva’s hands.
“Wh–What are you doing?”
The sudden skinship made Iva want to yank her hands away, but she held back—she was royalty, after all.
“What a sweet lady you are. I’ll remember your name and tell His Majesty.”
“…Pardon?”
“His Majesty dotes on me. If I tell him you helped me, you might get a reward. Or maybe… a good match? Hehehe.”
Julian laughed brightly, but Iva didn’t find it funny at all.
The Emperor?! I don’t even want to be involved with you, let alone him!
“No, that won’t be necessary.”
“That’s for me to decide.”
Her smile sharpened slightly.
“What’s your name?”
“…Sorry?”
“Your name. You have a hard time understanding people, don’t you?”
She said it with an expression that could have been teasing or genuinely curious—Iva couldn’t tell.
In her past life, Julian had been quiet and shy, barely able to speak a word. Now she was downright cheeky.
It made her feel like a stranger.
“…I’m Iva Blanche.”
After a pause, she gave her name.
“Iva Blanche. I’ll definitely remember it.”
Julian squeezed her hand once more before letting go and returning to Rai.
All eyes followed Julian. She’d always drawn attention as the heroine—but now, as a princess, it was inevitable.
“Your Highness, you’ve really changed.”
“Do you remember me? We met five years ago.”
People who’d meant to greet Iva instead made their way to Julian, eager for even a word with her.
Julian, surrounded by gazes, tucked herself closer to Rai’s side—though her expression looked almost like she was enjoying it.
“Ugh… better slip away before the crowd gets worse.”
In her past life, she’d nearly been knocked over more than once by crowds around Julian. Just thinking about it made her calves ache.
And with so much attention shifting to Julian, Iva worried the delegation’s interest in Claude might fade. She began to edge away.
“Your Highness, may I have a handshake as well?”
At that moment, a young noble rushed by and accidentally bumped her shoulder hard.
“Ah!”
The impact made her high-heeled balance falter dangerously.
If she fell, she’d break her ankle for sure. She flailed her arms desperately to stay upright—
Thunk.
Thankfully, someone caught her from behind, an arm wrapping around her shoulders to steady her.
“Is this how the Begen Empire greets newcomers?”
The voice belonged to a man with thick, wavy lavender hair falling just above his shoulders.
His eyes were a striking mix of cool green and warm gold, each color distinct yet harmoniously blended.
A sharp T-zone, slightly full lips, and skin like sunlit sand—all dazzling.
Was there ever someone this good-looking in Begen before?
Iva forgot she’d almost fallen, drawn into the brilliance of his gaze.
“What beautiful red hair you have,” he murmured, lightly brushing the ends of her hair with his free hand, eyes never leaving her face.
“Th-thank you.”
Iva belatedly tried to step out of his hold, but the man didn’t let go so easily.
“Uh… excuse me?”
Even when she twisted her shoulder slightly, he just kept staring at her without releasing his hand.
“Sir Brigitte, the lady seems uncomfortable. Please let go,” came Claude’s calm yet firm voice.
“I seem to have held on too long,” Brigitte said at last, releasing her. “I was admiring her red hair. My apologies.”
Once free, Iva quickly stepped to Claude’s side—closer to Chase—before bowing politely.
“It’s an honor to meet the Begen delegation. I’m Iva Blanche, the one in charge of preparing this party.”
“A pleasure. I’m Brigitte Taylor,” he replied, offering a large, calloused hand.
Iva smiled as she accepted the handshake.
Forget Julian and Rai’s romance drama. The one I really need to focus on tonight is Brigitte Taylor.
If he enjoyed the party, she’d earn the biggest bonus—and then she could buy land, and lovers aplenty.
Steadying herself against Brigitte’s formidable aura, Iva braced for the true start of the evening.
