Ara felt herself being dragged into a corner, her heart racing as she struggled against the strong grip holding her. No matter how much she kicked and pushed, it was futile. Panic surged through her until a familiar voice reached her ears.
"Relax… It's me," the voice said softly.
She froze, recognizing the voice. Hamon?What was he doing here? Her confusion deepened as she realized that her back was pressed against his chest, one of his arms around her waist and the other covering her mouth. She tensed as his lips brushed against her ear, his voice low and throaty as he whispered, "I didn't know my future wife was such a troublemaker."
Ara blinked, her face flushing as she felt his warm breath against her ear. His grip around her waist tightened, pulling her closer. Quickly, she snapped out of her daze and used all her strength to pry his hand away, pushing him back as she turned to face him. But what she saw left her speechless. Hamon was dressed in nothing but a night robe, his long silver hair slightly damp as if he had just stepped out of a bath. Her eyes widened, and she quickly looked away, her heart pounding even harder.
"What are you doing here, Your Highness?" she asked, avoiding his gaze.
"You brought me here somehow," he replied, his voice as deep and smooth as she remembered.
"What do you mean?" Ara frowned, confused by his vague response.
"One minute I was in my chamber, and the next, I found myself in a hall full of people, only to see you there." Hamon's lips pressed into a thin line as he recalled how he suddenly appeared at the banquet hall, just in time to witness a woman tampering with a drink. He had tried to teleport back to the castle, but failed, leaving him stuck in the hall. Frustrated and unable to return, he decided to wander around, intending to annoy someone since they couldn't see him unless he allowed it. But then, he caught sight of familiar red hair in the corner of his eye. Turning, he saw his future wife about to drink from the very glass that had been tampered with. He didn't think, just acted, swiftly pushing her hand away.
Hamon had remained at Ara's side throughout the drama that followed. He had wanted to make himself visible when the crowd turned against her, feeling an inexplicable urge to punish them all. His blood boiled as he considered teaching them a lesson, but just as he was about to intervene, a woman stepped in to defend Ara, who he later realized was her sister.
The other woman, Claire, and her overly dramatic performance irritated him, especially when she continued to accuse the woman he considered his future wife. He decided then that Claire would pay for her behavior.
But something continued to nag at Hamon—how had he managed to teleport when he could usually only do so on a full moon? And why had it been so effortless this time? It had never happened before. Why now? He didn't have an answer to Ara's question about why he was here because he genuinely didn't know.
Ara tilted her head, trying to make sense of his confusing words. How could he have traveled all the way from the south to the north so quickly? And why did he sound so angry? She wasn't the one who invited him here, especially not dressed in a night robe.
She glanced up at him, about to respond, but immediately regretted it. He looked so breathtakingly handsome that her words got stuck in her throat. His dark red eyes seemed to draw her in, captivating her completely.
Lost in his gaze, she didn't notice when he lifted his hand to caress her cheek, a crooked smile playing on his lips. When she finally felt his touch, she slapped his hand away, turning her face from him. "Don't touch me like that again," she mumbled, her voice shaky.
Hamon watched her, intrigued. The first time they met, she was in armor, fierce and beautiful. But now, in a dress, she looked more like an angel. Her red hair set her apart in the hall, and he found himself quite liking this shy, vulnerable side of her.
"What is it?" Ara asked, noticing his intense gaze.
He chuckled. "You look more beautiful in a dress," he said with a soft smile.
Ara, who had never received a compliment from a man before, blushed at his words but quickly tried to hide her reaction. "Why are you here? I thought you said you would visit in fifteen days," she asked, still avoiding his gaze. But Hamon wasn't in the mood to answer her questions. Instead, he leaned closer, smirking.
"You should learn to look me in the eyes when you talk… You'll soon be my wife," he whispered playfully.
Ara stepped back, uncomfortable with his closeness. "And you don't have to invade my personal space while you talk, Your Highness," she retorted, a small frown creasing her brow.
"You'll have to get used to it…" He began but then paused, listening intently to something. He leaned in even closer, whispering in her ear, "Someone is coming… See you in two days, my future wife."
Before Ara could even react, he was gone, disappearing as if he had never been there. Her eyes widened in surprise. How did he do that? Was she imagining things? She looked around, but there was no sign of him.
"Sister, what are you doing over there?" Anne's voice called out from behind her.
"Nothing," Ara replied, jolting as she snapped out of her thoughts. She quickly walked back to the carriage and climbed inside, her mind racing. The Morrison mansion was driving her crazy, and now the prince, with his mysterious ways, was adding to her confusion. Had she made a mistake by choosing him as her husband? She knew nothing about him. But then again, she wasn't expecting a happy marriage—just a contract. Whatever secrets he held, as long as he could save her family from their doomed future, that was all that mattered.