In Reychelle City, a contest was held to crown the most beautiful woman.

After my cousin scarred my face, she seized first place with ease.

What she never expected was that this year's contest wasn't for fame; it was to select the future wife of the Third Prince, a ruthless, bloodthirsty eunuch.

That very afternoon, gifts poured in by the cartload.

My betrothed panicked. That night, he tore up our engagement contract and carried my cousin into the bridal chamber.

The next day, she trailed her lacquered fingertips across my cheek and sneered, "Alicia, with your ruined face, who would ever want you? Perhaps the beggar at the street corner might take you in."

I caught her wrist, let out a cold laugh, and said, "Who told you I would marry a beggar?"

Before her stunned eyes, I pushed open my parents' chamber doors.

"Mom, since Maggie doesn't wish to be the prince's consort… let me take her place."

Three years later, before the eyes of a shocked court, the Third Prince entered the grand hall with me at his side, with two children in tow.

No one had foreseen it. This body of mine, blessed with the rarest gift of fertility, was the perfect match for a man believed incapable of siring heirs.

My dad's gaze swept over me from head to toe before he let out a derisive laugh.

"Who do you think Prince Carlson is? He's royalty! A disfigured wretch like you dares dream of becoming his consort?

"Besides, why would you beg for marriage with a man incapable of producing heirs just for the sake of power? Do you mean to shame the entire Barden family?"

My mom pressed down on his arm, her eyes flickering with a warning.

"If Alicia doesn't go, then what? Do you truly intend to send Maggie instead? The imperial decree has already been issued. This marriage cannot be annulled. Otherwise, it won't just be our reputation at stake—our entire family's lives will be forfeit."

My dad fell silent.

I clenched my fists, the corner of my lips curving into a mocking smile. "I'll marry Prince Carlson, but on one condition."

My dad's eyes narrowed. "Speak."

"The day I wed Prince Carlson, Maggie must publicly confess that it was she who ruined my face."

His expression turned glacial.

"Alicia, what right do you have to bargain with me?"

"No right?" My voice dropped to ice. "Then send Maggie in my place. Gamble the entire family's lives that the eunuch prince won't realize she's already been defiled."

My dad's rage exploded. He raised his hand, ready to strike.

"Impudent! How dare you threaten—"

My mom seized his sleeve, tugging sharply as she whispered, "Alicia has a point. If Prince Carlson were to discover Maggie is no longer untouched…"

I stood motionless, watching coldly as they whispered to one another. My dad's fury gave way to hesitation, and finally, reluctant silence.

At last, he gave his tacit consent.

My mom leaned close, her tone saccharine as she pretended to tidy the stray strands at my temple.

"Alicia darling, we only want what's best for you. With your face… like this…" Her gaze flicked meaningfully to the scar marring my cheek. "To become a princess consort is already an immense blessing."

I recoiled from her touch, my heart sinking into an icy abyss.

These were my birth mother and father. They were willing to throw me into the fire pit without hesitation, just to protect their beloved niece.

As I stepped out of the room, I caught Mom's hushed voice behind me.

"Sending that detestable girl away may be for the best…"

Moonlight poured over the courtyard like silvered water. I stood still, letting the night wind dry the tears at the corners of my eyes.

Ten years. Ever since my cousin, Maggie Barden, was brought into the household after her parents' death, I—the rightful daughter—had become nothing more than a disposable shadow.

They cherished her as though she were priceless, while showing me nothing but indifference.

Even now, after she had scarred my face, they hadn't so much as scolded her.

I drew a veil over my face and walked toward the side chamber.

A breeze carried with it a cloying fragrance, sweet and heavy.

I frowned, my steps halting—just as Nicholas Wendell, my betrothed, emerged from Maggie's room.

His clothes hung disheveled, and the skin of his neck was marked with lingering traces of intimacy.

The moment his gaze met mine, he froze. Panic flickered across his face.

"Alicia, listen to me…" Nicholas hurried toward me, reaching for my hand, but I slipped aside, avoiding his touch.

He awkwardly rubbed his palms together and stammered, "I had too much to drink today, and Maggie, she…"

"No need to explain." I cut him off. "The betrothal contract is ruined. Whatever lay between us no longer exists."

His expression grew anxious. "Alicia, I know you hate me, but you must understand—I had no choice. You know what Prince Carlson is like: cruel, violent, and a eunuch besides. How could I stand by and let Maggie fall into such a pit of fire?"

A bitter smile curved my lips as I looked at his earnest face.

Always Maggie.

In their eyes, only Maggie mattered. Compared to her, I was nothing more than a weed by the roadside.

"And what about me?" Tears blurred my vision as I tore the veil from my face. "She scarred me with her potion during the competition. What am I supposed to do now? Who would ever marry me?!"

For a moment, he froze. But when his gaze fell on the scar across my cheek, revulsion flickered unmistakably in his eyes.

He instinctively stepped back before forcing himself to steady. His voice, strained, sought composure.

"You… don't despair. For the sake of our past, I could still take you as a concubine."

"Concubine?!"

Disbelief and fury surged through me.

"Nicholas, we've been betrothed since childhood. You once swore to love me for a lifetime, and now you would relegate me to a concubine?"

His eyes darted away, guilty, evasive.

"Alicia… look at yourself now. To be my concubine is already more than you deserve. Besides, Maggie—"

"Enough!" My voice cracked like a whip. My nails dug deep crescents into my palms. "I would rather die than be your concubine!"

My sudden defiance left him momentarily stunned, then rage flushed his face.

"You think you're still the celebrated beauty of Reychelle City? Look at your face! Who would want you now, except maybe a beggar on the street?"

I let out a cold laugh, replaced the veil over my face, and turned to leave.

Behind me, his voice rose, harsh and desperate. "Alicia! You'll regret this!"

Back in my chamber, a maid entered with a smile, holding out a small lacquered box.

"Prince Carlson heard of his betrothal to a young lady of the Barden family and specially sent this—Kallos Balm. They say it heals scars and restores beauty."

I lifted the lid. A faint fragrance of herbs drifted out, soothing and refreshing. My heart, frozen for so long, thawed just a little.

So perhaps Prince Carlson was not as monstrous as they claimed.

…

As the neglected daughter of the Barden family, I had to purchase myself even the jewelry for my own wedding.

Yet while I was choosing, a delicate, overly sweet voice cut through the air.

"Oh my, fancy seeing you here, Alicia."

Maggie's feigned surprise rang loud enough to draw every gaze in the shop.

Clinging to her, Nicholas's eyes flicked over the phoenix coronet in my hands. His lips curled with scorn.

"Alicia, didn't you declare you'd rather die than be my concubine? Why are you preparing for a wedding then?"

Maggie swayed forward.

"Alicia, that coronet is reserved for a principal wife. For someone like you, a concubine…"

She plucked a plain silver hairpin from the display and slid it into my bun with a titter.

"This suits you far better."

My grip on the coronet tightened, knuckles whitening. I drew breath to retort when suddenly, my veil was yanked away.

Maggie staggered back two steps, clutching the fabric in her hand, and let out a dainty little cry.

"Oh, Alicia, I lost my footing and accidentally knocked off your veil. I didn't mean to."

In an instant, every eye in the shop fixed on me—on the scar I had so carefully hidden.

A collective gasp rippled through the room.

"Heavens… what is that?"

"What a terrifying scar…"

"Isn't she the Barden family's eldest daughter? No wonder she hides behind a veil."

The whispers slithered into my ears like venomous snakes.

Triumph gleamed in Maggie's eyes as she smiled sweetly.

"Oh my, Alicia, with such an ugly face… it seems even a silver hairpin is too fine for you."

The sting of the crowd's contempt burned hotter than the scar on my cheek. My vision blurred as tears welled unbidden.

Nicholas shifted uneasily, torn between pity and shame, as though my very presence disgraced him. He lifted a hand, signaling the servants.

"What are you staring at? Disperse!"

The sharp hum of gossip fell silent. Then he strode toward me.

"Alicia," he coaxed, "listen to me. Look at your reputation now. Who but me would take you? Do you really mean to marry a beggar off the street?"

Maggie's lips curved in mock sorrow. "Alicia, do you see how kind Nicholas is to you? Even I envy you."

Yet in her eyes, all I saw was hatred. And still, he lapped up her act like a starving dog.

"Maggie, don't worry," he assured her immediately. "You are my rightful wife. She'll never be more than a concubine. I won't allow her to overstep you."

After soothing her, his gaze cut back to me, cold as ice.

"Alicia, if you want to enter my household as a concubine, you must swear never to bear children."

At his signal, a servant stepped forward, offering a porcelain vial with both hands.

Alarm prickled at the back of my neck. Instinctively, I stepped back, only for Nicholas's hand to seize my chin in a bruising grip.

"Alicia, be a good girl. You must drink this."

Maggie's smile bloomed, bright as poisoned blossoms, her eyes glittering with cruel delight.

The bitter stench of the concoction invaded my senses. I jerked my head away, resisting.

"I won't drink it! Who said I agreed to be your concubine?"

In the struggle, the vial slipped. It shattered with a sharp crack, its contents splattering across Nicholas's robes.

His face darkened. His fingers tightened around my chin until pain shot through my jaw.

"Alicia, what do you mean by this?"

I lifted my gaze, glaring at him through tears.

"I mean… I would rather wed a beggar in the gutter than stoop to be your concubine!"

Rage blazed in his eyes, edged with vicious malice.

"Fine! I didn't expect you to remain so stubborn. If you won't be my concubine, then you can be a whore for beggars instead."

His men moved swiftly, ushering in a cluster of filthy beggars who had been loitering by the wall.

The stench of unwashed bodies closed in as they surrounded me.

Maggie laughed, her voice honeyed with false pity.

"Nicholas, Alicia only lashes out because she thinks I've stolen her place. It's all my fault."

Nicholas pulled her into his arms.

"Maggie, how could it be your fault? You already agreed to let her be my concubine. You're too kind. She's the one who refuses to appreciate the favor."

His contemptuous gaze flicked to me. "She brought this upon herself."

Maggie nestled against him, tilting her chin with smug satisfaction. Her lips curved into a delicate, poisonous smile.

"Alicia, don't blame us. You simply don't know your place."

She heaved a feigned sigh, eyes bright with malice.

"But don't worry. These beggars may be filthy, but at least they're men. That's better than marrying a eunuch, isn't it?"

My fists clenched tight, nails cutting into my palms.

Nicholas gave a derisive laugh, tightened his arm around Maggie's waist, and turned to leave. His parting words were like a knife of ice, "Enjoy yourself."

The door slammed shut behind him with a resounding bang.

Darkness swallowed the shop.