Chapter Text
The royal blue curtains of the bedroom were still drawn tight, preserving a cool, artificial twilight that smelled faintly of lavender and the lingering electricity of a tablet.
Most princesses in the history books dream of the moment they'll stumble upon a soulmate in a sun-drenched meadow. Miu does too, but with a practical twist that would make a romantic poet weep: Miu dreams of the moment someone else hands her a file and says, "This is the one."
Royalty normally doesn't get to choose what they want. From the color of their gala gowns to the specific charities they patronize, everything is decided for them.
For most, that's a gilded cage. For Miu? It's pure, unadulterated bliss. Miu doesn't want to put herself out there and risk the messy, agonizing business of heartbreak.
She's always told her father, King Taechamon, that he can choose whoever he sees fit for her to marry. Love can come after.
It can be a guy, a girl, a billionaire, or a penniless scholar; Miu couldn't care less, as long as they help her reach her goals and maintain the stability she craves.
Miu's logic isn't just born of laziness; it's a family tradition. Her mother was forced to marry her father, a prospect that sounds horrifying in a modern context. Yet, it yielded the most enviable result: a happy marriage, a functional family, and a beautiful daughter like Miu. What more could she ask for?
Her grandmother, a woman of steel and silk, would be immensely proud of her pragmatism. May her soul rest in peace knowing Miu hasn't inherited the "rebellious princess" gene.
Admittedly, Miu didn't reach this enlightened state of mind on her own. Three years ago, she met a witch, or a very convincing charlatan, who told her everyone she liked would reject her.
Miu scoffed at first, but after three consecutive, humiliating rejections from three different noble crushes, Miu stopped fighting fate. She started to see the absolute genius in an arranged marriage.
Sadly, life works in mysterious ways. An arranged marriage was definitely in her plans, but as the universe would soon remind her, love isn't something you can easily leave off the guest list.
The silence of Miu's room was shattered not by a royal fanfare, but by the frantic tapping of my butler, P'Somchai.
"Princess Miu? It is nearly one in the afternoon. The King's fleet has entered the palace grounds."
Miu bolted upright, her heart doing a panicked tap-dance against her ribs. "Oh my god! P'Somchai, get my clothes ready! Dark blue—no, the cream silk. Let's go, let's go!"
Miu doesn't usually wake up late. She prides herself on being the "Sensible Heir." But last night, she fell into the black hole of fanfiction.
Every time she told herself just one more chapter, it turned into three, then four, until she had inhaled all sixty chapters of a slow-burn romance. By the time the fictional couple finally kissed, the sun was peeking through her blinds, and her brain was mush.
Miu scrambled out of bed. With the help of three maids and P'Somchai's calm directions, Miu was scrubbed, dressed, and polished in record time.
She flew down the grand staircase, her heels clicking frantically against the marble, and veered straight into the kitchen.
"Is the lunch service ready?" She hissed to Chef Mhee.
"Of course, Princess," she whispered back, adjusting the garnish on a platter of grilled sea bass.
Just as Miu smoothed her hair and took a calming breath, the heavy oak doors of the dining hall swung open. Her father, King Taechamon, walked in, in his tailored suit, though his eyes softened the moment he saw Miu.
"Something smells good," he remarked, his voice booming with warmth.
"Always, Father. Especially when Chef Mhee does the cooking," Miu replied, stepping forward to greet him.
"Hello, darling," he said, reaching out.
"Hello, Father. I'm so sorry. I didn't have time to cook for you today. I wanted to make that saffron risotto you like."
He chuckled, pulling Miu into a brief, sturdy hug. "Darling, you know you don't have to do that. That's why we have staff. You should be focusing on your studies or perhaps resting."
"I know," she said, leaning her head against his shoulder for a second. "But I get bored sitting around, just waiting for you and Mother to find my perfect match. The anticipation is more exhausting than the work."
"Actually, I have some good news about that," a familiar, melodic voice rang out.
Miu turned to see an older, more refined version of herself standing in the doorway. Her mother, Queen Sirindhorn, walked into the room. She was the picture of elegance, her every movement calculated yet seemingly effortless.
"Perfect timing as always, sweetheart," her father said, his face lighting up. It was that look, that genuine, soul-deep affection, that reinforced Miu's belief in their method. They were proof that the system worked.
Her mother kissed his cheek and took her seat at the long mahogany table. She looked at Miu, a playful glint in her eyes that made her stomach flip with nervous excitement.
"I found the perfect suitor for you, Miu," she announced, picking up her linen napkin.
Miu sat down opposite her, leaning in. "You did? Truly? Who is it? Do I know him? Is it the duke's son from the northern province?"
Queen Sirindhorn corrected Miu with a small, knowing smile. "Her. Anada Prakobkit."
The name hung in the air like a sudden chord change in a symphony. Miu knew that name. Everyone in their social circles knew that name. The Prakobkit family held the keys to the kingdom's largest tech and shipping conglomerates.
"Anada?" Miu blinked, processing. "Well... I've heard she's a bit of a spoiled princess. I mean, even by our standards."
"She is passionate, Miu. Don't listen to those rumors," her mother responded firmly, though not unkindly. "She is brilliant, she is disciplined, and she is perfect for you in every way. The Prakobkit alliance would secure our infrastructure projects for the next century."
Miu took a sip of water, her mind racing. A powerhouse who could help her solidify the Taechamon legacy? It sounded like the right one to Miu.
"Well," Miu said, setting the glass down. "I trust your judgment, Mother. If you say she's the one, then she's the one."
"Good," the queen said, her excitement finally breaking through her regal composure. "Because you're meeting tonight. A private gala at the Azure Pavilion."
Miu's jaw nearly hit the table. "Tonight? So soon? Oh my gosh! I have nothing to wear! The cream silk is too casual for a first meeting with a Prakobkit. I need something that says, 'future queen' but also 'I'm not intimidated by your reputation.'"
Miu scrambled up from her chair, nearly knocking over her water. "P'Somchai! We need the emerald gown! No, the black velvet!"
Miu ran back toward the stairs, her mind a whirlwind of fashion choices and rehearsed introductions. Behind her, she could hear her parents' synchronized chuckles.
"She's just like you were," her father murmured.
"Yes," her mother replied softly. "Let's hope she's just as lucky."
As Miu sprinted toward her dressing room, the witch's prophecy flickered in the back of her mind. Everyone you like will reject you. Well, joke's on her. Miu didn't even know Anada Prakobkit, so she couldn't possibly like her. And if she didn't like Miu, she couldn't reject her.
It was a foolproof plan. Or so she thought.