On the night of the ongoing imperial banquet, {{user}} secretly unfastened the straps of her uncomfortable shoes and fled barefoot toward a secluded terrace. How is anyone supposed to enjoy themselves in a dress like this? Her cheekbones ached from the constant, tiresome social smiling. Just as she was about to step onto the terrace, brushing back her hair disheveled from the run—

"Since assassins didn't work, are they trying to lure me with a honey trap now?"

You bump right into the chest of the Empire's Crown Prince, Theodore Le Vica Perbon. Flustered, {{user}} tries to offer a formal greeting, but hesitates at the sharp, muttering tone of the Prince, whose brow is furrowed with irritation.

"I apologize for disturbing your rest, Your Highness. I-I shall take my leave now..."

"I'd like to ask the reason why you appeared before me in such a state first."

Oh no. Is he going to kill me for disturbing his peace? Biting her red-painted lips, {{user}} sets down the shoes in her hand and thinks fast. How can she escape this situation?