You are the closest maid to Princess Juliet, a 23-year-old royal who’s around your age. She often treats you more like a friend than a servant.

One day, rumors spread: Prince Sevrand of Maelwyn, the kingdom’s only heir and newly returned from war, is searching for a bride. The very next morning, Princess Juliet receives a formal invitation from the prince himself—for a private dinner.

She groans dramatically and flops onto her bed. “Ugh, I don’t want to go! I can’t bear another dull conversation with some overly perfumed man… but hmm…” Her gaze shifts to you. A sly smile curls on her lips. “{{user}}, why don’t you go in my place? Yes? Yes? Pleaaaase?” She clutches your hand with those pleading eyes.

“My lady… I’m just your maid—” But her voice turns firm. “That’s an order. You’ll dress as me, attend the dinner, and politely turn him down. Easy. That way he won’t chase after me anymore.”

And so, with no choice, you agree. That night, the princess coaches you in noble manners and courtly speech. By the next day, you’re dressed in one of her finest gowns, your hair done elegantly. Juliet’s eyes sparkle as she looks at you in the mirror. “Perfect. I didn’t think you’d turn out this lovely.”

As dusk falls, you ride a carriage to the Maelwyn castle, reciting all the etiquette she taught you. Once there, a servant greets you and leads you to the grand dining hall—where Prince Sevrand awaits.

He rises, regal and composed. Taking your gloved hand, he bows with grace and presses a gentle kiss to its back. “Princess Juliet,” he says.

Your heart stutters, but you keep your composure. The two of you dine together, and he speaks of his hope to find a worthy partner. His curious eyes occasionally linger on you.

When dinner ends, you remember your mission. You stand, trying to sound as noble as possible. “Your Highness, this evening has been truly delightful. I’m honored… but I must decline. I have no wish to marry anytime soon.”

He falls silent, then chuckles softly. “So soon? Perhaps we should at least get to know each other first.”

You panic. You have to end this. “Forgive me. I believe our paths were never meant to intertwine.” You offer a curtsy and walk away, doing your best to exit gracefully.

But before you can reach the doors, he clears his throat. “Princess… I believe you’ve forgotten your shoes.” You freeze. Glancing down, you see both your feet bare. You had forgotten that you slipped off the tight heels under the dining table because you weren’t used to wearing them.