I was currently having a mental breakdown behind a marble pillar, and honestly? I deserved an award for how quietly I was doing it—even if my fingers were leaving crescent-shaped dents in the cool stone.
He saw me. The Pineapple Prince saw me.
Why was the final boss talking to an NPC side character?
This wasn't in the script. I was supposed to be the "clumsy shadow," the "suspicious crow"—just there to make Valeria look more intimidating by comparison. Instead, I'd somehow activated a speedrun to Bad Ending 7: "Pinned by the Fruit Monarch."
"Lady Liriel, right?"
The voice was like silver chimes dipped in honey. I froze so solidly, I swear dust motes started settling on my shoulders.
Seraphina Lumière stepped forward, and up close, she didn't just glow—she radiated enough "pure-hearted goodness" to make my dark violet gown feel like it was woven from discarded evil plans.
She smiled—not the tight-lipped nobles' grin I was used to, but something warm enough to melt winter ice.
I saw what happened with the tea earlier," she said, her eyes wide with concern. "Are you alright? You looked a little... startled.
My brain short-circuited so hard, I almost forgot how to breathe. She's being NICE to me? In the original novel, Liriel would've snapped something about common-born heroines not knowing their place.
But me?
I'd been burned twice in my first life by being too kind—too willing to trust smooth words and pretty promises. Now when I see someone this unwaveringly good, all I can think is: Does she have zero taste in men or what? In the book, she picks the stuck-up prince over my baby bias Cassian—you can see the skill gap from space!
But my half-baked "Pretend to Be Heroine-Adjacent" plan was still sputtering away in my panic.
"I'm... fine," I blurted out, my voice cracking like a dry twig. "Thank you. Your dress is very pretty. It's like... a cloud. A non-threatening, very fluffy cloud.
Seraphina's face lit up like a festival lantern. "Thank you! That's such a lovely way to put it—I was worried it was too plain!"
I internally shrieked, pressing my forehead against the pillar for half a second. Why is she making this hard? I'm supposed to resent her, not feel guilty for wanting to trip her on the stairs later!
A cloud," a smooth, dangerous voice drawled. "How poetic"
Crown Prince Adrian Solare stepped closer.
He didn't accuse me of anything. He didn't even look angry. He just... observed. He had that terrifyingly polite smile that the Ivory Court practiced in their sleep—the one that didn't reach his eyes.
You move very quietly, Lady Liriel," Adrian said, his gaze sweeping over me like a hawk deciding if a mouse was worth the effort of a dive. "One might almost think you prefer to observe rather than participate.
"I'm just... shy," I lied. It was probably the biggest falsehood in the history of the Aurelion Virelle Empire—coming from a woman who once argued with a merchant over spice prices for forty-five minutes straight.
"Is that so?" Adrian's smile widened. "I noticed you were near the fountain during the little... incident. Quite the coincidence. Viscount Veldt seems to attract very interesting attention lately, wouldn't you say?
HE KNOWS. This Bastard knows...
My heart did a full swan dive into my stomach and kept going. He knew I'd been watching Cassian. In this world, the Prince didn't just execute people—he made them vanish with a smile and a polite letter to their family.
Do not look at Cassian. Do NOT look at Cassian, I chanted in my head, curling my hands into fists. If I look at him right now, the Prince will know exactly where my heart—and my sanity—is parked.
But I felt it anyway.
From the corridor's edge, near the salon doors, a gaze landed on me. Not sharp like Adrian's, not warm like Seraphina's—just heavy, focused, and impossible to ignore.
I couldn't help it. I looked.
Cassian was staring at me. No polite nod, no professional distance—just recognition.
For the first time, he wasn't seeing "Valeria's troublemaking cousin." He was seeing me—the girl who hid behind ferns to read romance novels, who once walked into a pillar because she was looking at the sky, who'd just been caught in the Prince's crosshairs.
In the novel, that look usually meant one of two things: strategic asset... or walking corpse.
Recognition hurt way more than being ignored.
Tell me, Lady Liriel," Adrian asked, his voice pulling me back to the golden nightmare in front of me. "Since you have such an eye for... clouds... what did you think of the Crown Prince's entrance today?
My brain was fried. My nerves were shot. I was on the verge of a total psychological collapse. And when I'm stressed, my filters don't just fail—they disintegrate.
"Honestly?" I blurted before I could stop myself. "I thought you looked like a walking pineapple."
Dead silence.
The kind that makes you wonder if the gods themselves have paused to listen.
Seraphina gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. Adrian's smile froze for exactly half a second—a tiny glitch in his royal programming, before it widened into something that made my spine prickle.
"A... pineapple?" he repeated slowly.
"The hair," I gestured wildly, already mentally packing my bags for exile, "the gold trim, all those sharp little details—it's a lot. Very... tropical? Like you're about to be served with rum and a tiny umbrella."
My brain caught up with my mouth a solid three seconds too late—tropical? For a man in a custom-tailored coat and hand-polished boots?
I watched his eyebrow creep up like a cat testing new furniture.
"I MEAN—REGAL!" I flailed, my hands waving so fast I almost smacked Seraphina. "So regal! A tropical king! Ruler of all fruit-based authority!"
Fruit-themed authority. I could practically hear my dignity filing for early retirement. "Look-point is, it commands attention! You don't see a pineapple and think 'meh,' right? Same energy!"
But—
Too late. I'd just roasted the sun-worshipping empire's future ruler to his face.
Adrian let out a chuckle that sounded like a blade being honed. "A tropical king. How... refreshing. We must speak again soon, Lady Liriel. Very soon indeed."
He turned, guiding Seraphina toward the main hall with a hand on her back—but the way his shoulders shook told me the "pineapple" comment would be immortalized in court gossip.
The second their backs were turned, I ditched every ounce of noble etiquette I'd ever learned.
I puffed my cheeks out like a goldfish, stuck my tongue as far as it would go, and pulled my eyelids down into the most ridiculous grimace I could manage at his retreating head.
Yeah, well! Hope you get a toothache from being so sweet-looking, you overripe fruit basket!
I spun around, ready to bolt for the gardens—and nearly tripped over my own skirts when I saw Cassian hadn't moved an inch. He'd seen everything—the roast, the childish face, the complete lack of dignity.
His expression was still unreadable, but his eyes were so intense I felt like I'd been pinned to the wall with just a look.
And at the corridor's far end, platinum hair gleamed in the torchlight. Valeria had circled back, her eyes narrowed as they flicked between me and the silent knight.
"Liriel," she whispered, her voice carrying a warning that made my skin prickle, "what have you done?"
I looked from the Prince's back to my bias to my suspicious cousin—and let out a long, slow breath.
Congrats, me.
I wasn't just a turnip in this story anymore.
I was the whole damn salad bar, and everyone was looking hungry.
~🫶