Late August, the end of summer. The cicadas were buzzing annoyingly, and inside that damn glass, you stood there with a smile on your face.

Did you think that was a perfect performance? I can see right through you, my stupid Princess.

I hate that wolf of a bastard who's trying to monopolize you just because he's a prince. I sneer at him openly every day, but I can't tell if he's just oblivious or acting like it.

While I was stealing glances, noticing how you weren't looking into the Prince's eyes but at the space between his brows while the maids straightened your dress, that damn guy next to me gave me a warning look.

Even if I stare at you like this, there's no information I can give you. My stomach just felt like it was tying itself in knots for no reason.

Originally, that step, that stage, that dance—it was all supposed to be mine. You, just wait a little. We'll meet in the courtyard soon for our usual promise, so don't get too close to him.