"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.

The beggars leered, their obscene smiles twisting across filthy faces as they advanced step by step. Their rancid stench rolled over me, choking the air.

My back pressed hard against the counter, nails digging so deep into the wood grain that splinters cut my skin. Cold sweat traced a path down my spine, yet I forced myself to stand tall.

"Get out!"

I snatched up the bronze mirror from the counter and hurled it at them.

"Touch me, and by tomorrow, Prince Carlson will see your entire family buried with you!"

For a heartbeat, the beggars faltered… then burst into raucous laughter.

"Prince Carlson? He wouldn't want a ruined face like yours."

One, yellow-toothed and foul, ripped open his filthy tunic.

"Tonight, I'll see what a noble lady tastes like…"

But before he could finish, a shadow flashed across my vision. A scream tore through the air, raw and piercing.

I stared, stunned. A man in a silver mask stood before me, sword dripping scarlet.

That beggar writhed on the ground, clutching the hand that no longer bore its fingers. The others, shrieking in terror, scattered like startled rats.

The masked man inclined his head to me. Before I could speak a word of thanks, he turned to leave, vanishing into the night.

Only a single royal gold token remained where he had stood.

…

The days slipped quickly by, and at last, my wedding day arrived.

I wore my bridal gown, my adornments few and plain.

My mom clutched my hand with feigned tenderness.

"Alicia, once you enter the prince's household, serve him well. Do not bring shame upon the Barden family."

I pulled my hand free, my voice cold.

"Mom, do you remember what you promised me? On the day of my marriage, Maggie would confess before everyone that she ruined my face."

Her expression changed in an instant, panic flickering in her eyes.

"Alicia darling, why say such things on a day of joy?"

She forced a brittle smile, reaching for me again.

"Maggie is still young and ignorant…"

Whatever faint hope I had for my parents crumbled to dust.

I shoved her hand aside.

"If she doesn't confess, I will not marry."

Just then, Maggie swept in, her arm entwined with Nicholas's.

The moment Nicholas's gaze fell on me in my bridal gown, his brows furrowed in displeasure.

"Alicia, what nonsense is this now? Today is Maggie's homecoming, and you dress like this to humiliate me?"

I let out a cold laugh.

"Nicholas, you think far too highly of yourself."

His face darkened. He seized my wrist in a punishing grip, his strength enough to crush bone.

"Alicia, don't be ungrateful."

His voice dropped, eyes gleaming with menace.

"Those beggars failed by mere chance. I'll give you one last opportunity…"

Maggie swayed toward me, her waist twisting like a snake. From her sleeve, she drew that all-too-familiar porcelain vial, her painted lips curling into a venomous smile.

"Alicia, just drink this. Then kneel before Nicholas and admit your wrongs…"

She shook the vial lightly. "Perhaps, if he's feeling merciful, he'll even let you serve as a chambermaid."

Disgust flared hot in my chest as I looked at the shameless pair. "I said I will not drink it. And I will never be your concubine."

Nicholas's face turned storm-dark. With a sharp bark, he roared, "Men! Since she refuses, strip off her dress and send her to the beggars' den!"

The household guards surged forward, forcing me down by the shoulders. I struggled with all my strength, but it was useless.

Silk tore under rough hands…

Suddenly, came the crash of armored boots.

A squad of black-clad guards swept into the hall, felling the Barden family's men with ruthless precision.

At their head strode the silver-masked man, now clad in robes of unmistakable wealth. His eyes locked onto Nicholas, his gaze colder than a thousand winters.

"My princess consort is not yours to touch!"