Chapter 3: The Welcome Intruder

For the past hour, tea time had been dragging on.

“Hicc… Why can’t it be me? Do you still see me as a child, Duke? I’ll have my coming-of-age ceremony soon, you know!”

“Princess?”

Princess Isabella, teary-eyed, hiccupped once more as Mikhail’s gentle gaze settled on her, as though he were looking at a lover he adored. She couldn’t help but hiccup again, foolishly.

“Hic… Yes, Duke?”

“How could I ever reject a proposal from you, Princess?”

Her dark eyes welled up with fresh tears, shimmering like dew.

“Then… does that mean you’ll accept my proposal? Hic!”

Mikhail calmly took out a handkerchief and handed it to her, smiling softly.

“What I mean is, I can’t accept it at this very moment.”

“Hicc! But why can’t you accept it now? Look at me—I’m all grown up, aren’t I?”

In a bold move, Isabella stood and thrust her deep neckline forward, the plunging cut of her dress leaving nothing to the imagination. Gabriella immediately averted her gaze, cringing inwardly.

“Isabella.”

“Hmph, don’t call me by my name—it makes me weak.”

“Bella.”

At the sound of her nickname spoken in Mikhail’s low voice, Isabella trembled and faltered, her hand flying to her forehead as if overwhelmed.

“Princess, I hope you understand that my reluctance stems from my desire to give you more opportunities. It’s out of a sincere and beautiful consideration for you.”

“Hic.”

“You deserve to experience more of the world, Princess. You have every right to meet other men.”

“Sniff! But—!”

Gabriella quickly opened her fan and leaned closer to Isabella, whispering encouragingly.

“My beautiful princess, keep your composure. My brother admires women who maintain their poise, no matter the situation.”

“Would you reconsider my proposal if I gave you the gallery? Hic.”

Mikhail, who had been casually checking his watch with a bored flick of his wrist, straightened his attire with a cold expression, clearly ready to bring the conversation to an end.

“Princess, I’m afraid we’ll have to consider the royal art gallery deal null and void.”

Isabella’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Su-surely you’re not upset because of me, Duke Ophilenz?”

Feigning pity, Mikhail shook his head, his expression designed to tug at her heartstrings.

“If you think I’m someone who exploits your feelings, Princess, I’m deeply regretful. As you know, I’m not so poor as to depend on such tactics.”

Isabella hastily shook her head, her tone exaggerated with remorse.

“Oh, Duke, you misunderstand! I would never think that of you. Please forgive me, sniff.”

“In that case, please sign here, my beautiful princess.”

Gabriella, suppressing a smile, handed the contract to the sniffling Isabella, her gaze flitting toward her brother. In moments like these, Mikhail seemed less like an angel and more like a beautiful devil.

Isabella hurriedly signed the papers, still sniffling.

“Duke, I hope you’ll accept my heartfelt sincerity. This is nothing compared to the depth of my affection for you.”

“How could I refuse? Rest assured, you’ll be compensated properly.”

“Sniff, I don’t need the money. Just take it!”

Gabriella shrugged, while Mikhail shook his head.

“Such risky words, Princess. Especially now, when rumors are spreading across Bonchons that I’m exploiting you.”

“What?! Who dares spread such baseless lies?”

Springing to her feet, Isabella raised her voice, her face contorted in a rare display of determination.

“I’ll release a statement in the papers today! I’ll make it clear that this transaction was honorable and fair.”

“Thank you for your generosity.”

With the deal neatly concluded, Mikhail snapped his fingers. His secretary, who had been waiting discreetly in the corner, quickly stepped forward to collect the signed documents.

Yet Isabella still seemed reluctant to end their meeting.

“So, what should we do now, Duke? It’s been ages since we last met. We can’t just part ways like this, can we? How about a trip to the department store together?”

But Mikhail, having secured his objective, showed no interest in entertaining Isabella further.

Gabriella, ever perceptive of her brother’s moods, gave him a subtle nudge, suggesting he handle the situation delicately.

**Chapter 3: The Welcome Intruder (Continued)**

*‘At least accompany her to the department store, brother.’*
*‘Are you mad? Do you want me splashed across tomorrow’s headlines standing next to the princess?’*

The silent tug-of-war between the Ophilenz siblings took an unexpected turn when an unforeseen opportunity presented itself.

“Kyaaaah!”

Princess Isabella abruptly hurled her teacup at someone across the room.

“Princess!”

Gabriella shot to her feet, and Mikhail’s gaze followed the path of the cup to its unintended target.

Ah. It seemed that the rumors about the art gallery garden being under renovation were true.

A hapless day laborer had apparently strayed where he shouldn’t have.

Mikhail’s eyes lingered briefly on the boy’s dirt-streaked face, smeared with plaster dust and mud. For a moment, his gaze settled on the boy’s strikingly vivid blue eyes, a color so intense it almost felt out of place.

It was a shade of blue that shone brightly, defying the grime on his face.

Though, at the end of the day, they were still the eyes of a lowly worker.

Amused by a stray thought, Mikhail wondered—if Isabella’s eyes had been as captivating as this boy’s, perhaps he wouldn’t find her so tiresome.

A beggarly boy with noble, vivid blue eyes.
A princess with dull, uninspiring black ones.

The contrast amused him, and his previously stern lips curled into a faint smile.

Mikhail, who had been searching for an excuse to gently fend off Isabella, found the nameless boy’s sudden appearance to be rather convenient.

Especially since his arrival was entirely unanticipated.

Without hesitation, Mikhail strode toward the filthy boy.

The sight of the boy dropping to his knees unprompted drew a dry, feigned remark from Mikhail.

“I specifically instructed no one to enter.”

The boy’s shoulders trembled faintly, though he had done nothing wrong.

And so, the illustrious Duke Ophilenz knelt impulsively, lowering himself to meet the beggar boy’s frightened gaze.

“Hello, uninvited guest.”

Those impossibly deep blue eyes froze in place, as if stunned.

Mikhail’s sharp yet honeyed gaze trailed down, noticing the boy’s clenched fist.

‘Did he steal something?’

“I-it was a mistake,” the boy stammered, his voice trembling.

“I lost my way.”

Mikhail’s next move—pressing his shoe firmly onto the boy’s clenched fist—was just as impulsive.

Let’s call it a creative way to meet the anticipation glimmering in Isabella’s watchful eyes.

“A mistake, was it? Quite a bold one. And that excuse—‘losing your way’? It’s laughable.”

Mikhail’s polished shoe remained on the boy’s hand, which still gripped tightly around whatever he was hiding.

“I apologize.”

The boy’s reply was surprisingly calm, almost unnervingly so.

That made Mikhail chuckle.

“Well, since you’ve ruined my beautiful tea time with the princess, it’s only fair that you pay a price.”

“A… price?”

“Yes, a price.”

The boy, Oliver, glanced up cautiously as Mikhail lifted his shoe from his fist. Then, as if overwhelmed, Oliver quickly ducked his head again.

“Gabriella.”

Mikhail called smoothly, turning to his sister.

“The princess must be quite shaken. Please escort her out. I have some words to exchange with this insolent boy.”

Gabriella, forcing a delicate smile, moved to support Isabella, who was still trembling with indignation.

Mikhail’s honeyed eyes turned back toward Oliver, gleaming with a curious intensity as the boy remained motionless on the ground.

“Please leave, Princess.”

“Hmph! But—!”

“Now.”

Princess Isabella bit her lip, her face twisted into a pout. Then, as if unable to contain her fury, she spat in the direction of the boy kneeling on the ground.

“You filthy thing. How dare you…!”

Her encounter with Mikhail, made possible only by offering up the royal art gallery, had been precious to her. To have it interrupted by the worst possible intruder filled her with rage.

“Get out of here!” she shrieked again, her voice sharp.

Oliver didn’t make a sound, though his clenched fist grew tighter.

There was no sense of injustice in his heart.

After all, this was not a place where someone like him—a lowly laborer—was supposed to be.

What gnawed at him was the growing weight in his chest, the certainty that he’d have to pay a price for this misstep.

His eyes flicked toward the shattered teacup on the ground. He recognized it immediately—it was one of the fine bone china pieces Madam Charlotte had once boasted about importing at great expense.

As his mind grew hazy with calculations of what the damage might cost him, the sight of polished shoes re-entered his view.

Snapping back to reality, Oliver hastily fumbled with what he’d been holding in his clenched fist. He wiped it on his damp shirt and held it out to the man.

“Could this suffice as payment for my mistake?”

Mikhail’s gaze fell to the object in Oliver’s trembling hand.

It was a small ornament carved from pale brown ivory, depicting two intertwined snakes.

When Mikhail didn’t respond, Oliver carefully placed the item on top of Mikhail’s shoe, his hand trembling.

“I found it on the way here,” Oliver murmured.

“That’s what it was about?”

“Pardon?”

Mikhail almost laughed at the boy’s innocent confusion.

“Was that why you wouldn’t open your fist?”

“Ah, yes,” Oliver stammered.

“It’s intricately carved. If I wasn’t careful, it could’ve broken.”

“Not because you stole it and got caught?” Mikhail asked with a sly grin.

Oliver’s reply was calm, almost unnervingly so.

“The shoes you’re wearing, my lord, are custom-made by Henning Valentine, one of Bonchons’ most renowned craftsmen. This ivory piece was likely made to complement those shoes specifically.”

“And?”

Under Mikhail’s piercing honey-gold gaze, which seemed to peer straight through him, Oliver felt his mouth go dry.

‘Is it possible for someone to be this beautiful?’

For a fleeting moment, Oliver thought that even the marble statues filling the art gallery would pale beside this man. Struggling to steady his voice, he continued.

“Even if I’d stolen it and tried to sell it, I’d have been caught immediately. Henning engraves a serial number on all his components.”

Oliver hesitated, then added carefully.

“…And this design also belongs to the Ophilenz family.”

Mikhail’s translucent golden eyes gleamed like stars.

“Impressive,” he said, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Quite the discerning eye for someone so… out of place.”