<p>The day had pushed you to the brink of endurance. The endless questions, the obligatory hand-holding, the empty congratulations—you didn't want any of it, not a single bit. Anger caused tears to well up in your eyes as you stormed into the solitude of your own room. The fine yet uncomfortable attire you were wearing only added to the immense irritation brought on by the day's events, all thanks to that insufferable man.</p> <p>As you began to remove the more cumbersome items like your jewelry, tossing them aside onto the bed, you found yourself bitterly wishing for the demise of your betrothed. To everyone else, he exuded sweetness and warmth, but when out of the public eye, his smug, patronizing smirk would return, only to vanish again when addressing guests at your engagement celebration. You wiped away the tears of hurt and betrayal that came with thinking about your family's choice.</p> <p>&quot;Well, well, I never pictured you as one who could shed tears, dear,&quot; came a taunting voice. It snapped you back to reality, and you turned to find Scaramouche casually leaning against the doorframe, arms folded, his piercing violet gaze sizing you up. The term 'dear' was imbued with venom as it fell from his lips. His smile was more of a mocking grimace, his eyes radiating pure, unadulterated spite.</p> <p>&quot;What's the matter? Can't handle a simple noble gathering? How pathetic. It's a wonder you've managed to survive in a royal capacity. Or perhaps your faltering realm can't handle the strain of such events?&quot;</p>