Chapter Text
第一章：缺席的新娘候選
聖克王國的春季，總是伴隨着綿延不絕的濕潤空氣。
這座由原本的皇家離宮改建而成的「長春藤皇家學院」，此時正沉浸在一片優雅而緊繃的氣氛中。作為提倡「以學術、藝術與外交消弭戰火」的頂級學府，這裡的每一塊大理石地磚，都踩着地球圈最頂尖菁英與政客的足跡。
聖克王國雖國土面積狹小，卻是名震星際的醫療大國，掌握着全人類最頂尖的基因修復與生化醫療技術。正因如此，王國銳意奉行完全和平主義，以無可替代的醫療資源為核心，透過多邊經濟、文化與靈活的外交手段，在列強環伺的國際夾縫中巧妙維持著完全和平。然而，這片和平的平衡木，如今卻因為一場皇室婚事而劇烈動盪。
作為歐洲最大財團的羅姆菲拉，與歐盟的核心軍事組織「聯邦」，近期正為了競逐聖克王妃的寶座而暗流湧動。這兩大巨頭都企圖吞併聖克的醫療主權，進而控制整個地球圈的生命命脈。
面對這場赤裸裸的政治聯姻，年僅十八歲的大學生兼聖克王儲美利安多·卑斯賴多原本態度堅決，試圖全盤拒絕任何相親安排。然而，為了迫使這位強硬的王子就範，同時在表面上確保兩大勢力的公平競爭，羅姆菲拉與聯邦聯手施壓，提出應讓各自的代表以「王妃候選人」的特殊身份進入長春藤學院，創造與王子相處的機會。
這項政治妥協的外交消息一出，遠在天邊的火星巨鱷—諾因海姆財閥竟然也橫插一腳，依循公佈的規例，為其家族次女申請了這個俗稱為「王妃候選簽證」的特殊簽證，堂而皇之地跨星際來到聖克王國讀書。
美利安多對這種充斥著算計與逼迫的活動反感至極。但在內閣的軟硬兼施與地緣政治的巨大壓力下，他最終只能選擇接受，將這場學院相親當作一場漫長的拉鋸戰，以此拖延時間，為王國尋求真正的獨立轉機。
此時，禮堂內正在舉行隆重的開學典禮。
「—因此，聖克的完全和平，並非流於理想的口號，而是建立在理性、對話與多邊經濟互惠的基石之上。」
講台上，王儲美利安多·卑斯賴多正在致詞。
他身穿一襲筆挺的純白皇家制服，金色的長髮整齊地束在腦後，那張被譽為「地球圈絕世容顏」的面孔冷峻得不帶一絲溫度。他的聲音低沉、果斷、富有磁性，卻也像西伯利亞的寒風，透着一股拒人於千里之外的冰冷。
台下前排的貴賓席上，兩道炙熱的目光幾乎要把講台射穿。
身穿羅姆菲拉財團特製華麗禮服的多洛絲·賈登洛利，優雅地叠着雙腿，嘴角掛着志在必得的高傲微笑。在她的邏輯裡，只有羅姆菲拉的自動化防衛體系與雄厚資本，才配得上這位無可挑剔的儲君。
而在不遠處，聯邦代表之女蘇菲亞·諾邊特則一身粉紅色的可愛禮服，雖然對多洛絲那股財閥大小姐的傲慢感到不耐，但望向美利安多的眼神同樣閃爍着強烈的使命感與少女的傾慕。
然而，在多洛絲與蘇菲亞之間，那張原本貼着「火星諾因海姆財團代表」標籤的座位，此時卻空空如也。
美利安多的藍眸微微掃過那個空位，眼底閃過一抹不着痕跡的冰冷。
這已經是第四次了。
從開學前的三次預備茶會，到今天的正式開學典禮，那位名叫「露洛莉亞·諾因海姆」的火星財閥次女，每一次都能拿出讓人無法反駁、卻又敷衍至極的理由缺席。
『突發性重力不適應症。』—這是火星大使館半小時前遞交的公文。
「無禮的火星人。」美利安多在心裡冷冷地評價。
身處政治漩渦中心的他，生來便伴隨着無數的算計與背叛。對於這個連面都不敢露、只會用外交公文當擋箭牌的火星代表，他心中只有極深的戒備與厭惡。在他看來，這不過是火星派系在尚未摸清地球局勢前，故意擺出的某種傲慢姿態罷了。
與此同時，學院後山那片號稱「地球溫室生態標本區」的古老森林裡。
「哈啾—！」
一個清脆的噴嚏打破了森林的寧靜。
露洛莉亞·諾因海姆揉了揉鼻子，有些無奈地拉緊了身上那件寬鬆得有些過份的灰色連帽衛衣。她此時正毫無形象地盤腿坐在一棵巨大的橡樹延伸出的樹幹上，膝蓋上墊着一本圖鑑。
她那雙在陽光下顯得格外明亮的眼眸，透着火星人特有的堅韌與清澈。她有着軍人般的自律與挺拔身姿，即使穿着不修邊幅的衛衣，也掩蓋不住那股由內而外散發的穩重與優雅。
「地球的空氣濕度確實比火星高太多了……看來下次不應該用重力不適應做藉口，而是花粉不適應。」露洛莉亞自言自語地笑了笑，聲音帶着一絲誠實的調侃。
她確實是在「擺爛」，但她從不對自己撒謊。她熱愛地球的文學、歷史與這片火星不曾擁有的綠意，但她同樣清醒地知道，地球不容易批出殖民星人的留學簽證，而自己之所以能拿到這張珍貴的地球學生簽證，全憑那個「美利安多王妃候選人」的政治頭銜。
「政治是大人們的遊戲。我嘛，只要能在這裡平安畢業，順便把地球的美食吃個遍，就對得起這趟星際旅程了。」她俐落地對比著圖鑑上的一隻蝴蝶，隨後敏捷地跳下樹幹，拍了拍身上的塵土。
對於那位傳聞中英俊絕頂卻冷若冰霜的王儲殿下，露洛莉亞的評價只有四個字：英年早逝。
背負着那種沉重的國家命運和四面楚歌的權謀，在露洛莉亞看來，簡直是嫌壽命太長。比起和那位冰山王子喝下午茶，她寧可去圖書館研究微積分，或者去後街排隊買蛋撻。
***
一星期後，陽光透過玻璃窗灑在厚重的木質書桌上。
這裡是杜魯斯·國斯里達教授的辦公室。杜魯斯不僅是羅姆菲拉的溫和派理事，更是美利安多最信任的導師。
此時，杜魯斯正端着一杯紅茶，看着桌上的兩份報告，俊美的臉上露出了高深莫測的微笑。
「真是不可思議……」杜魯斯輕聲讚嘆。
「教授，什麼事情讓你這麼有興趣？」美利安多不知何時走了進來。他剛結束一場冗長的學生小組討論，眉宇間帶着一絲疲憊。
「美利安多，你來得正好。」杜魯斯揚了揚手中的兩份報告，「這是你上週交給我關於『多邊經濟體系在資源貧乏區的應用』的論文。而這一份，是今天早上，一位主修文學的火星學生交給我的旁聽報告。你們兩個在不同時間修讀我的戰略防禦與經濟學，但你們對『火星能源開採與地球關稅壁壘』的看法，竟然有高達八成以上的邏輯重叠。」
美利安多眉頭微皺，接過那份署名為「露洛莉亞·諾因海姆」的報告。
他快速瀏覽了一遍。意外地論文竟然沒有用電腦作文書處理，而是用手寫，簡直就是幾世紀前的古董做法一樣。然而論文的字跡端正、有力，沒有任何華麗的修飾，從書法中看得出是一個很有修養的人。最重要是，裡面的化學方程式、量子力學公式以及宏觀經濟學的數據模型，精準得像是一台精密儀器運算出來的結果。這絕不是一個普通文學系學生能寫出來的東西。
「她今天來過？」美利安多問，眼神中閃過一抹深沉的警惕。一個利用「王妃簽證」入境、卻故意缺席所有社交場合，轉頭卻在私底下交出如此硬核報告的十八歲女學生，城府與目的顯然比他想像的還要深不可測。
「剛走不久。」杜魯斯優雅地喝了口茶，眼神閃過一絲狡黠，「她看起來是個非常誠實且有趣的女孩。美利安多，有時候，眼睛看到的『無禮』，或許只是另一種真實。」
美利安多合上報告，將其遞還給杜魯斯。
「我去一趟圖書館的古籍藏書區。」美利安多淡淡地說道，「那裡安靜。」
杜魯斯看着學生離去的背影，嘴角的笑意更深了。
古籍藏書區的角落。
露洛莉亞坐在書架間的木梯上，身上依然是寬鬆的衛衣，手裡正捧着一本極其厚重的《宏觀經濟學》。
然而，如果有人此時站在露洛莉亞的正面，就會發現一個驚人的事實—
這本嚴肅、枯燥的《宏觀經濟學》書皮竟然精巧地包裹着一本地球當下最流行的狗血言情小說，叫《霸道將軍的冷酷柔情》。
「嘖嘖，地球人的想像力真豐富。這種『女人，妳成功引起了我的注意』的台詞，在現實中如果有人說出來，大概會被當成精神異常吧？」露洛莉亞一邊看得津津有味，一邊誠實地在心裡吐嘈。她自學能力極強，火星的基礎學科知識早就在她腦子裡融會貫通了，課堂之間，她只想用地球的通俗文學來放鬆繃緊的神經。
就在她看到「將軍冷酷地將女主逼到牆角」的高潮情節時，一陣沉穩而規律的腳步聲突然在安靜的走道中響起。
露洛莉亞敏銳地察覺到來人的氣場不對，那不是普通學生的腳步。
她下意識地想要合上書本，但來人的速度比她想像的更快。一抹純白色的制服衣角轉過書架，緊接着，那張冷峻如冰雕、卻精緻得毫無瑕疵的臉龐，毫無預警地映入她的眼簾。
美利安多·卑斯賴多。
露洛莉亞的動作瞬間僵住了。
美利安多停下步伐，居高臨下地看着坐在梯子上穿着灰色衛衣的少女。這就是那個在外交公文裡「體弱多病」的火星財閥次女？此時此刻，她哪裡有半點重力不適應的虛弱模樣？
空氣在這一瞬間凝固了。
美利安多的目光緩緩下移，銳利如鷹隼般的藍眸落在了她手中的那本《宏觀經濟學》上。準確地說，是落在了因為露洛莉亞手指太過用力、而不小心翻開的內頁上。
那上面清清楚楚地印着一幅誇張的小說插圖，以及一行碩大的手抄體台詞：『不要挑戰我的耐性，女人。』
「……」
「……」
這本書是大學經濟學系的核心教材，美利安多為了研究聖克的經濟多元化，早已翻閱了不下十次。
他對這本教科書瞭如指掌，自然一眼就看出那根本不是經濟學的內容。他的眼神微微一沉，疑心病重的本能讓他立刻開始懷疑。這個女人特地拿着這本書坐在這裡，難道是故意在打探他的主修科目，甚至是在演一齣戲來吸引他的注意？
被當場抓包的露洛莉亞眨了眨眼，隨後有些無奈地歪了歪頭，嘴角勾起一抹帶著自嘲的弧度，眼神彷彿在說：『好吧，被抓到了。』
她沒有慌張地藏匿，也沒有編造任何藉口，這種坦蕩的穩重感，反而讓做好了應對「政客謊言」準備的美利安多微微一愣。
美利安多收回目光。雖然他心中對這個行為古怪、背景神秘的火星女人充滿了戒備與懷疑，但在這安靜的古籍區，他並不打算撕破臉，更不想把時間浪費在毫無意義的口舌之爭上。既然她拿了這張簽證，他就得把這場政治戲碼演下去，直到他掌控足夠的籌碼。
他英俊的面容上浮現出一抹客套而優雅的「友善」微笑，只是那雙藍眸深處依終毫無溫度。
「諾因海姆小姐，看來這裡的藏書很符合妳的胃口。」美利安多的聲音低沉而富有磁性，聽不出絲毫怒意，甚至帶着一絲紳士的體貼，「不過，既然妳的『重力不適應症』在這裡恢復得如此迅速，想必明天的皇家茶會，妳也定能撥冗出席了。」
他沒有說破書裡的秘密，但這番話裡的暗示與施壓已經足夠明顯。如果明天的茶會她再缺席，那就等於坐實了對聖克王室的蓄意欺瞞與無禮，王室將有權收回簽證。
見這位傳聞中剛愎自用的王子竟然沒有當場揭穿自己，免去了一場極其尷尬的對峙，露洛莉亞在心裡暗暗鬆了一口氣。
雖然她依舊對那個麻煩的茶會充滿抗拒，但面對這種避無可避的外交施壓，她向來是個識分寸、拿得起放得下的務實派。
露洛莉亞再次側了側頭，將手中的書本合上，回以一個優雅、得體卻又不失幽默感的微笑：
「既然殿下都這麼說了，地球的重力再怎麼熱情，明天我也一定會準時出席的。多謝殿下的『關心』。」
美利安多深深地看了她一眼，沒有再多說一個字。他微微頷首，隨即轉身，優雅地消失在書架盡頭。
看着王子離去的方向，露洛莉亞吐了吐舌頭，將那本包着言情小說塞回背包裡。她無奈地嘆了口氣，拍了拍衣物上的灰塵，走下木梯。
「雖然笑得很溫柔，但眼神簡直像要把人凍死一樣……不愧是疑心病重的儲君殿下。」
聖克王國的春雨開始下着，在這座充滿權謀與算計的學院角落，兩顆同樣聰明、卻各自戒備的靈魂，終於在一場錯位的「經濟學」交鋒中，正式拉開了命運的序幕。
***
聖克王國的皇家玻璃溫室內，正盛開着從世界各地運來的珍稀白玫瑰。
然而，空氣中瀰漫的卻不是花香，而是幾乎能將空氣點燃的火藥味。
「—賈登洛利小姐，我想妳對聯邦軍的防衛機制有些誤解。聖克的安全不應該交給冷冰冰的機器，唯有擁有榮譽感的軍人，才能提供最真實的保護。」
蘇菲亞·諾邊特雖然身材在三人中最為嬌小，但此時她正挺直了腰桿，白皙的面孔因為激動而微微泛紅，一雙大眼睛直勾勾地盯着對面。
「呵呵，軍人的榮譽感？」多洛絲·賈登洛利優雅地端起骨瓷茶杯，用純銀茶匙輕輕攪動着紅茶，發出清脆的叮噹聲。她嘴角掛着完美的貴族微笑，眼神卻如刀鋒般銳利：
「諾邊特小姐，時代已經變了。在羅姆菲拉的機動木偶自動化工業體系面前，血肉之軀的『榮譽感』，不過是增加不必要的傷亡數字罷了。殿下，你說是嗎？」
坐在一旁的美利安多·卑斯賴多表面上冷酷如冰，甚至連喝茶的動作都優雅得無懈可擊，但藏在桌下的手卻微微收緊。
他此時頭痛欲裂。
這就是他最厭惡的社交場合。一個是帶着財團報價單來逼婚的傲慢千金，一個是帶着聯邦駐軍企圖來監控王室的軍人世家之女。兩女表面上是在探討國防，實則字字句句都在將他、將聖克王國往各自的利益深淵裡拉扯。作為依賴型國家的王儲，他不能當場破壞了任何一方的面子，這種必須維持表面平衡的虛偽博弈，讓他感到無比窒息。
就在這時，溫室的玻璃門被輕輕推開。
「抱歉，殿下，各位小姐，我來遲了。」
一個略顯虛弱、卻異常平穩的聲音打破了桌上的僵局。
露洛莉亞·諾因海姆換上了長春藤學院的女生不常穿的簡單服飾。那套修身的深藍色外套與棉褲，穿在她軍人般挺拔的身姿上，本該顯得英姿颯爽；但此刻，她卻微微低着頭，臉色透着一絲刻意偽裝出來的蒼白，甚至在走路時還輕輕扶了一下身旁的侍從，活脫脫一個「隨時會被地球重力壓垮」的火星病弱少女。
多洛絲與蘇菲亞的目光同時射了過去。
美利安多的藍眸微微一亮，原本緊繃的下顎線條稍稍放鬆了一點。
而在露洛莉亞的視角裡，眼前的景象簡直是一齣精彩絕倫的宮廷修羅場。
多洛絲的高傲、蘇菲亞的緊繃、美利安多那張帥到慘絕人寰卻黑得像鍋底一樣的冰山臉。露洛莉亞活了十八年，自學過無數硬核學科，對人性的觀察也極其敏銳。
幾乎是在落座的瞬間，她腦中的邏輯電路就瘋狂運算，得出了真相。
『搞了半天，原來是這樣！』露洛莉亞在心裡苦笑。
她原本以為自己作為火星軍工企業的女兒，背景在地球圈最不受待見，理所當然是個陪跑的最弱勢候選人。她昨天還奇怪，為什麼這位高冷的王子在抓到她看言情小說後，不但不生氣，還非要堅持讓她出席茶會。
這哪裡是什麼皇家紳士的體貼？
這根本是這位冰山儲君的「政治陰謀」！
多洛絲和蘇菲亞這兩股勢力太強、太對立，美利安多夾在中間根本無法處理。他需要第三個點來打破這個危險的雙人對峙。而她這個擺明毫無勝算、甚至對王位毫無興趣的「火星病弱女」，就是最完美的「中和劑」與「防彈衣」。
「真是個狡猾的儲君殿下。」露洛莉亞一邊腹誹，一邊認命地向眾人優雅行禮。既然答編了要出席，她好歹得把這場戲演完。
「坐吧，諾因海姆小姐。」美利安多淡淡地開口，聲音一如既往地冰冷，但眼神卻示意侍從為她拉開椅子。
「謝謝。」露洛莉亞坐下後，側了側頭，有些不好意思地對着多洛絲和蘇菲亞笑了笑：「火星人適應地球重力確實需要一些時間，打擾了各位的雅興，真是抱歉。我今天只是來旁聽學習的，各位請繼續，不用管我。」
她擺出最低的姿態，端起茶杯，打算安安靜靜地當一塊背景板，捱過這兩個小時就去後街買蛋撻。
然而，多洛絲顯然不打算放過她。
「聽說火星的環境十分艱苦，難怪諾因海姆小姐的身體如此嬌貴。」多洛絲放下茶杯，雖然臉上掛着溫柔大度、甚至帶有一絲憐憫的笑容，但說出來的話卻字字帶刺，咄咄逼人：
「不過，聖克王國未來需要的是一位能夠撐起外交大局、陪伴殿下走過風浪的王妃。如果連地球的重力和空氣都無法適應，恐怕留在火星的地下都市裡，才是最安全的選擇吧？妳說呢，露洛莉亞小姐？」
這番話近乎人身攻擊，直指火星人與殖民星人在地球經常遭受的歧視。
露洛莉亞心裡挑了挑眉。她向來穩重，心胸也寬廣，對於這種高傲大小姐的挑釁，她根本不放在心上。她深知自己有多渴望留在地球、汲取這裡豐富的學識與文化。對她而言，只要不當上王妃，隨便多洛絲怎麼出招都無所謂。
她甚至在心裡誠實地想：『如果妳能因為這點勸退我，讓我不用再當這個新娘候選人，那我還得謝謝妳呢。只要能讓我繼續留在這當個普通學生，不能嫁給王子簡直是天大的福氣。』
於是，露洛莉亞只是溫和地笑了笑，剛準備順水推舟地承認自己的無能——
「賈登洛利小姐，妳這話太過份了！」
一旁的蘇菲亞忍不住了。這位軍人世家的千金小姐雖然有些任性，但本性單純正直。她本來就看不慣多洛絲的強勢，現在看到這個低調又弱不禁風的「火星學生」被這樣欺負，正義感瞬間爆棚。
「諾因海姆小姐是為了兩星交流才來到地球的，重力不適應是生理問題，怎麼能拿來當作攻擊的藉口？妳這是對火星代表的不尊重！」蘇菲亞雖然氣勢很足，但因為臉長得稚嫩、身材嬌小，在長袖善舞的多洛絲面前，顯得有些底氣不足。
多洛絲嘴角的笑意漸冷，眼神輕蔑地掃過蘇菲亞：「諾邊特小姐，軍人世家的規矩，就是允許妳在王儲殿下面前無禮嗎？看來聯邦軍的教養，確實如同你們的戰術一樣，粗糙得令人堪憂。」
「妳—！」蘇菲亞被這句話狠狠噎住，眼眶瞬間有些發紅，氣得渾身發抖，卻在詞窮中被多洛絲的貴族氣場吃得死死的。
露洛莉亞坐在一旁，暗自嘆了口氣。
她本來是真的想捱過去就算了。但看着眼前這個明明是在幫自己說話、此刻卻像隻落水小狗一樣委屈的蘇菲亞，她那身為「火星財閥大小姐」的見義勇為性格，讓她實在無法坐視不管。
「賈登洛利小姐說得對，聯邦軍的戰術確實不以華麗著稱。」
露洛莉亞輕輕放下茶杯。一聲細微的瓷器碰撞聲，不知為何，卻奇蹟般地打斷了多洛絲與蘇菲亞的爭吵。
露洛莉亞抬起頭，那雙原本顯得有些無神的眼睛，此刻清澈而明亮。她看着多洛絲，穩重地微笑道：
「不過，粗糙有時候意味着高容錯率。就像聯邦軍的防衛網絡，雖然不如羅姆菲拉的機動木偶體系精美，但在應對複雜地貌與突發性電磁干擾時，實戰數據顯示其生存率高出百分之十五。而在宏觀經濟學中，過度追求單一自動化體系的壟斷，往往會導致市場缺乏彈性，一旦核心協議遭到破解，整個財閥的產業鏈就會面臨毀滅性的崩塌。」
她用最溫和、最客氣的語氣，吐出了最硬核的軍事數據與經濟學邏輯。
多洛絲的臉色瞬間一變，眼神中那股對「病弱火星女」的輕蔑蕩然無存，取而代之的是極深的警惕。
露洛莉亞轉過頭，安撫地對着蘇菲亞眨了眨眼，順手將一盤精緻的小蛋糕推到她面前，用幽默的口吻說道：「諾邊特小姐，生氣容易消耗血糖。地球的甜點在火星可是奢侈品，多吃一點，心情會變好哦。」
蘇菲亞愣愣地看着露洛莉亞，臉上的委屈瞬間化為崇拜，重重地點了點頭：「嗯！謝謝諾因海姆小姐！」
多洛絲握着茶杯的手指微微發白。她敏銳地感覺到，這個看似毫無威脅的火星次女，剛才那輕描淡寫的一擊，不僅幫蘇菲亞解了圍，還精準地刺中了羅姆菲拉體系最大的軟肋。
美利安多全程目睹了這一幕。
看着多洛絲吃癟的表情，以及蘇菲亞被輕易收服的模樣，冰山王子的心裡，生平第一次在茶會上有一種「舒了口氣」的暢快感。
他那雙深邃的藍眸深深地注視着露洛莉亞。這個女人，穿着衛衣看言情小說，在外交公文裡裝病弱，卻能在關鍵時刻用最溫穩的姿態、最精準的論據控住全場。她有軍人般的魄力，卻沒有軍人的粗暴；有財閥的智慧，卻沒有財閥的銅臭。更重要的是，他從中看到了她不願隨波逐流的清澈與正直。
美利安多優雅地端起茶杯，遮住了自己嘴角那抹隱秘而真實的弧度。
他原本只是想找個無關緊要的「中和劑」，卻沒想到，自己似乎在無意間，把一隻披着羊皮的火星小狐狸給拉進了這場遊戲。他預感到，以後的茶會，大概會變得相當有趣。
「諾因海姆小姐對防衛與經濟的見解相當有趣。」美利安多淡淡地開口，打破了多洛絲的尷尬。他看向露洛莉亞，藍眸中閃爍着一絲連他自己都沒察覺的期待：
「看來，未來的茶會，我想我不會再那麼無聊了。」
露洛莉亞對上儲君殿下的目光，有些無奈地再次側了側頭。
糟糕，一時沒忍住出手，好像反而讓自己變得更顯眼了？
溫室外的細雨漸漸停歇，而這場圍繞着儲君與三位少女的皇家茶會，也因為火星女那驚鴻一瞥的實力，悄然偏離了所有人預期的軌道。
Chapter 1: The Absent Bride Candidate
Spring in the Sanc Kingdom was always accompanied by an endless, humid haze.
The Ivy Royal Academy, a prestigious institution converted from an old royal villa, was currently immersed in an elegant yet tense atmosphere. Championing the philosophy of “eradicating the flames of war through academics, art, and diplomacy,”every marble tile of this campus had been trodden by the elite and the politicians of the Earth Sphere.
Though small in territory, the Sanc Kingdom was an interstellar medical powerhouse, possessing humanity's most advanced genetic repair and biochemical medical technologies. Because of this, the kingdom staunchly pursued a path of absolute pacifism. Using its irreplaceable medical resources as a core lever, Sanc cleverly maintained its complete neutrality in a fragile geopolitical balancing act through multilateral economics, culture, and flexible diplomacy.
Lately, however, this balance was being violently shaken by a royal marriage.
The Romefeller Foundation, Europe’s largest conglomerate, and the "Alliance," the core military organization of the European Union, were locked in an undercurrent of intense competition for the throne of Sanc's Crown Princess. Both titans sought to swallow Sanc's medical sovereignty, thereby gaining control over the lifeblood of the entire Earth Sphere.
Faced with this blatant political matchmaking, the eighteen-year-old university student and Crown Prince of Sanc, Miliardo Peacecraft, had initially been unyielding, attempting to reject any arranged meetings outright. However, to force the stubborn prince to comply while maintaining a superficial veneer of fair competition, Romefeller and the Alliance jointly applied diplomatic pressure. They demanded that their respective representatives be allowed to enter the Ivy Royal Academy under the special status of "Crown Princess Candidates" to create opportunities to interact with the prince.
When news of this diplomatic compromise broke, the distant interstellar titan—the Noinheim Corporation of Mars—unexpectedly intervened. Following the published regulations, they applied for this special visa, colloquially known as the "Princess Candidate Visa," for their second daughter, allowing her to cross the stars and study in the Sanc Kingdom.
Miliardo despised these machinations. Yet, under the persistent urging of his cabinet and the immense weight of geopolitics, he ultimately chose to accept it, treating this academy matchmaking as a protracted war of attrition to buy time and seek a path to true independence for his kingdom.
At this moment, a grand opening ceremony was underway in the auditorium.
"...Therefore, the absolute pacifism of Sanc is not a mere idealistic slogan. It is built upon the bedrocks of rationality, dialogue, and multilateral economic reciprocity."
On the podium, Crown Prince Miliardo Peacecraft was delivering his address. He wore a crisp, tailored white royal uniform, his long golden hair tied neatly behind his head. His face, hailed as the "most flawless countenance in the Earth Sphere," was cold and devoid of warmth. His voice was deep, decisive, and magnetic—yet it resembled a Siberian wind, carrying a chilling detachment that kept everyone at a distance.
In the front row of the VIP section, two intense gazes practically pierced through the podium.
Dressed in a lavish, custom gown from the Romefeller Foundation, Dorothy Catalonia sat with her legs elegantly crossed, a confident, haughty smile playing on her lips. In her logic, only Romefeller's automated defense systems and boundless capital were worthy of this impeccable heir.
Not far away, Sophia Noventa, representing the Alliance military, wore a lovely pink gown. Though annoyed by Dorothy’s arrogant corporate heiress demeanor, her gaze toward Miliardo similarly flickered with a strong sense of mission and youthful adoration.
Yet, between Dorothy and Sophia, the seat affixed with the label "Mars Noinheim Corporation Representative" sat entirely empty.
Miliardo's blue eyes swept subtly across the vacancy, a flicker of coldness passing through the depths of his gaze.
This was already the fourth time.
From the three preparatory tea parties before the semester began to today's official opening ceremony, the second daughter of the Martian corporate giant, named Lucrezia Noinheim, had managed to absent herself every single time with excuses that were unassailable yet transparently perfunctory.
Official Diplomatic Memo (Mars Embassy):
Sudden Acute Gravity Disorientation Syndrome.
"Insolent Martian," Miliardo evaluated coldly in his mind.
Born into the epicenter of political vortexes, his life had been defined by endless calculations and betrayals. He felt nothing but deep wariness and aversion toward this Martian representative who refused to even show her face, hiding instead behind diplomatic paperwork. To him, this was merely a proud pose struck intentionally by the Martian faction before they had fully grasped the layout of Earth's factions.
***
Meanwhile, in the ancient forest designated as the "Earth Greenhouse Ecological Specimen Zone" behind the academy hills...
"Achoo!"
A crisp sneeze shattered the tranquility of the woods.
Lucrezia Noinheim rubbed her nose, somewhat helplessly pulling tighter the oversized, loose grey hoodie she wore. She was currently sitting completely unbothered, legs crossed on a thick branch extending from a massive oak tree, a field guide resting on her lap.
Her eyes, exceptionally bright in the sunlight, possessed the resilience and clarity characteristic of Martians. She possessed a soldierly discipline and an upright posture; even in a casual hoodie, she could not hide the steady grace that emanated from within.
"The humidity on Earth is indeed much higher than on Mars... next time, I shouldn't use gravity disorientation as an excuse, but pollen allergies instead," Lucrezia muttered to herself, a genuine, self-deprecating smile gracing her lips.
She was indeed "slack-off gaming," but she never lied to herself. She genuinely loved Earth's literature, history, and the lush greenery that Mars lacked. However, she was equally lucid about the fact that Earth did not easily grant study visas to colonials. The only reason she held this precious Earth student visa was entirely due to her political title as a "Miliardo Princess Candidate."
"Politics is a game for adults. As for me, as long as I can graduate peacefully and eat my way through all of Earth's delicacies, this interstellar trip will be worth it." She briskly cross-referenced a butterfly with her guide, then leapt agilely down from the branch, dusting off her clothes.
As for that Crown Prince—rumored to be breathtakingly handsome yet cold as an ice sheet—Lucrezia’s evaluation consisted of only four words: Die young from stress.
Shouldering that kind of heavy national destiny and surrounded by treacherous power plays seemed, to Lucrezia, like an express ticket to an early grave. Compared to having afternoon tea with an iceberg prince, she would much rather study calculus in the library or queue up for egg tarts on the backstreets.
***
A week later, sunlight streamed through the glass windows, illuminating a heavy wooden desk.
This was the office of Professor Treize Khushrenada. Treize was not only a moderate director within Romefeller but also the mentor Miliardo trusted most.
At this moment, Treize was holding a cup of black tea, looking at two papers on his desk with a subtle, enigmatic smile on his handsome face.
"Tragedy and brilliance, intertwined perfectly..." Treize praised softly.
"Professor, what has captured your interest so thoroughly?" Miliardo walked in unannounced. He had just concluded a tedious student panel discussion, and a trace of fatigue lingered between his brows.
"Miliardo, you've come at the perfect time." Treize raised the two papers in his hand. "This is the thesis you submitted last week regarding 'The Application of Multilateral Economic Systems in Resource-Scarce Zones.' And this one is a seminar report submitted this morning by a Martian student majoring in literature. The two of you took my strategic defense and macroeconomics courses at different times, yet your insights on 'Martian Resource Extraction and Earth Customs Barriers' overlap in logic by more than eighty percent."
Miliardo frowned slightly, taking the report signed by "Lucrezia Noinheim."
He scanned it rapidly. Unexpectedly, the essay was not word-processed on a computer; it was handwritten—a method practically archaic. However, the handwriting was orderly, powerful, and devoid of flamboyant flourishes, revealing a person of immense cultivation. Most importantly, the chemical equations, quantum mechanics formulas, and macroeconomic game models within were as precise as if they had been computed by a high-end machine. This was absolutely not the work of an ordinary literature student.
"She was here today?" Miliardo asked, a profound wariness flashing in his eyes. A woman who entered the country using a "Princess Visa" yet deliberately skipped every social function, only to secretly submit such a hardcore report, clearly possessed depths and motives far more calculating than he had anticipated.
"She left just moments ago." Treize took an elegant sip of his tea, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "She strikes me as a remarkably honest and intriguing girl. Miliardo, sometimes what the eyes perceive as 'insolence' is merely a different facet of truth."
Miliardo closed the report and handed it back to Treize.
"I am going to the historical archives section of the library," Miliardo said flatly. "It is quiet there."
Treize watched his student's departing back, his smile deepening.
***
In a secluded corner of the historical archives section...
Lucrezia sat on a wooden stepladder tucked between the bookshelves, still clad in her loose hoodie, holding a massive, incredibly thick copy of Macroeconomics.
However, if anyone were to stand directly in front of her at this moment, they would discover a startling truth—
The jacket of this serious, dry academic tome was actually a clever disguise wrapped around Earth's current best-selling, trashy romance novel titled The Merciless General's Tender Obsession.
"Tsk, tsk. Earthlings really have vivid imaginations. Lines like 'Woman, you have successfully caught my attention'—if someone actually said that in real life, they'd probably be committed to a psychiatric ward, right?" Lucrezia amused herself, silently critiquing the book. She was a brilliant self-starter; the foundational disciplines of Mars were already hardwired into her brain. Between classes, she simply wanted to use Earth's pulp fiction to soothe her nerves.
Just as she reached the dramatic climax where "the general ruthlessly corners the heroine against the wall," a steady, rhythmic cadence of footsteps suddenly echoed down the quiet aisle.
Lucrezia instantly sensed that the newcomer’s aura was wrong; those were not the steps of an ordinary student.
She instinctively tried to snap the book shut, but the visitor moved faster than she anticipated. A flash of a crisp white uniform turned the corner of the shelf, and immediately following it, that face—sculpted like ice, flawlessly beautiful, yet terrifyingly aloof—blindsided her vision.
Miliardo Peacecraft.
Lucrezia's movements froze instantly.
Miliardo stopped in his tracks, looking down from his imposing height at the girl on the ladder. She wore a grey hoodie. This was the Martian corporate heiress who was supposedly "frail and bedridden" in diplomatic correspondence? At this very moment, did she look even remotely afflicted by gravity disorientation?
The air froze.
Miliardo’s gaze slowly drifted downward, his sharp, hawk-like blue eyes landing squarely on the copy of Macroeconomics in her hands. To be precise, they landed on the inner page that had accidentally flipped open because Lucrezia had gripped the book too tightly in her surprise.
There, clear as day, was an exaggerated novel illustration accompanied by a line of massive, stylized text:
"Do not test my patience, woman."
"..."
"..."
This textbook was a core curriculum requirement for the university's economics department. To study the economic diversification of Sanc, Miliardo had already poured over it at least ten times. Knowing the text inside and out, he could tell at a single glance that the content had absolutely nothing to do with economics.
His eyes darkened slightly. His intensely cautious instincts immediately flared with suspicion. Did this woman intentionally sit here with this specific book, staging a play to investigate his major and orchestrate a cliché encounter to draw his attention?
Caught red-handed, Lucrezia blinked. Then, somewhat helplessly, she tilted her head, the corners of her mouth curling into a self-deprecating arc. Her eyes seemed to convey: 'Well, you got me.'
She didn't frantically try to hide it, nor did she fabricate a clumsy excuse. This unbothered composure actually caught Miliardo off guard, as he had primed himself to dismantle a "politician’s lie."
Miliardo withdrew his gaze. Although his heart remained guarded and suspicious of this eccentric Martian woman with a enigmatic background, he had no intention of causing a scene in the quiet archive section, nor did he care to waste time on meaningless bickering. Since she possessed the visa, he would play this political game until he held enough leverage.
An elegant, "friendly" diplomatic smile materialized on his handsome face, though his blue eyes remained entirely devoid of warmth.
"Miss Noinheim, it appears the literature here agrees with your palate," Miliardo said, his deep voice carrying no trace of anger, even laced with a touch of gentlemanly consideration. "However, given how rapidly your 'gravity disorientation' seems to clear up in these archives, I presume you will have no trouble gracing tomorrow's Royal Tea Party with your presence."
He did not explicitly expose her secret, but the underlying implication and pressure were clear. If she absented herself from the tea party again, it would be treated as an intentional insult and deceit toward the Sanc Royal Family, giving them the right to revoke her visa.
Seeing that the notoriously unyielding prince chose not to expose her on the spot—sparing them an incredibly awkward confrontation—Lucrezia secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Although she still dreaded the troublesome tea party, she was a pragmatist who knew when to yield and adapt when faced with unavoidable diplomatic pressure.
Lucrezia tilted her head once more, closed the book, and returned an elegant, proper, yet subtly humorous smile:
"Since Your Highness has put it that way, no matter how 'hospitable' Earth's gravity chooses to be tomorrow, I shall definitely arrive on time. Thank you for your... concern, Your Highness."
Miliardo gave her a long, searching look, saying nothing more. He offered a slight nod, turned with practiced grace, and vanished into the labyrinth of bookshelves.
Watching the prince depart, Lucrezia stuck out her tongue and shoved the disguised romance novel back into her backpack. She sighed helplessly, dusted herself off, and stepped down from the ladder.
"He smiles beautifully, but his eyes look like they could freeze a person to death... As expected of a paranoid Crown Prince."
***
As the spring rain of Sanc began to fall, in this forgotten corner of an academy steeped in schemes and stratagems, two brilliant yet guarded souls finally initiated their destiny through a mismatched clash over "economics."
Inside the Royal Glass Greenhouse of the Sanc Kingdom, rare white roses imported from across the globe were in full bloom.
However, the air was thick not with floral fragrance, but with a volatile tension that threatened to ignite at any moment.
"...Miss Catalonia, I believe you harbor a fundamental misunderstanding regarding the Alliance's defense mechanisms. The security of Sanc should not be surrendered to cold, unfeeling machinery. Only soldiers with a sense of honor can provide genuine protection."
Though Sophia Noventa was the most petite of the three, she sat with her spine perfectly straight. Her fair face was slightly flushed with agitation as her large eyes glared directly across the table.
"Heh, a soldier’s honor?" Dorothy Catalonia gracefully picked up her bone-china teacup, using a sterling silver spoon to lightly stir her tea, producing a crisp clink-clink. A flawless aristocratic smile remained anchored to her face, yet her gaze was sharp as a razor.
"Miss Noventa, times have changed. In the face of Romefeller's MD (Mobile Doll) automated industrial framework, the 'honor' of mere flesh and blood is nothing more than an unnecessary inflation of casualty figures. Don't you agree, Your Highness?"
Sitting to the side, Miliardo Peacecraft appeared outwardly as cold as an ice sculpture, his every movement elegant and beyond reproach, but his hand hidden beneath the table tightened imperceptibly.
He had a splitting headache.
This was precisely the type of social function he loathed most. One was an arrogant heiress armed with a corporate price tag meant to coerce a marriage; the other was the daughter of a military dynasty backed by Alliance garrison forces, aiming to monitor the royal family. On the surface, they discussed national defense, but in reality, every syllable was designed to drag him and the Sanc Kingdo into their respective abysses. As the prince of a nation dependent on external equilibria, he could not openly damage the face of either faction. This hypocritical balancing act felt utterly suffocating.
Right then, the glass door of the greenhouse was gently pushed open.
"My apologies, Your Highness, ladies. I am late."
A slightly weak yet remarkably steady voice shattered the deadlock at the table.
Lucrezia Noinheim had changed into simple attire rarely favored by the female students of Ivy Academy. The tailored dark blue jacket and trousers should have made her soldierly, upright posture look sharp and dashing; yet at this moment, she kept her head slightly bowed, her complexion carrying a carefully cultivated paleness. She even lightly leaned on an attending servant as she walked, perfectly embodying a "frail Martian girl who could be crushed by Earth's gravity at any moment."
The gazes of Dorothy and Sophia locked onto her simultaneously.
Miliardo’s blue eyes lit up subtly, his tense jawline relaxing a fraction.
From Lucrezia’s perspective, the scene before her was nothing short of a magnificent courtly battle royale. Dorothy’s haughtiness, Sophia’s rigid tension, and Miliardo's staggeringly handsome face that was currently as dark as a storm cloud. Having lived for eighteen years and self-studied countless advanced disciplines, Lucrezia possessed an incredibly sharp reading of human nature.
Almost the instant she took her seat, the logical circuits in her brain fired in rapid succession, deducing the reality of the situation.
‘So that's how it is!’ Lucrezia amused herself internally.
She had originally assumed that as the daughter of a Martian military-industrial enterprise, her background would be the least welcome on Earth, making her a token, weakest-link candidate. She had wondered yesterday why this aloof prince, after catching her reading a romance novel, had not only abstained from anger but insisted she attend the tea party.
This wasn't royal chivalry or gentlemanly concern.
This was a calculated political gambit by the Ice Prince!
The factions behind Dorothy and Sophia were too powerful, too diametrically opposed; Miliardo could not handle them head-on without upsetting the balance. He needed a third point to disrupt this dangerous binary standoff. And she—a "sickly Martian girl" with zero chance of winning and a visible lack of interest in the throne—was the mathematically perfect "neutralizing agent" and "bulletproof vest."
"What a cunning Crown Prince," Lucrezia grumbled inwardly, though she dutifully offered an elegant bow to the assembly. Since she had promised to show up, she might as well play her part to the end.
"Please be seated, Miss Noinheim," Miliardo said flatly, his voice as icy as ever, though his eyes signaled a servant to pull out her chair.
"Thank you." After sitting down, Lucrezia tilted her head, offering a soft, apologetic smile to Dorothy and Sophia. "Adjusting to Earth’s gravity does indeed take time for a Martian. I am sorry for interrupting your conversation. I am merely here to listen and learn today. Please, continue on my account."
Adopting the lowest possible profile, she raised her teacup, fully intending to function as a quiet background prop, endure the two hours, and go buy her egg tarts.
However, Dorothy clearly had no intention of letting her slide under the radar.
"I have heard that the environment on Mars is exceedingly harsh; no wonder Miss Noinheim’s constitution is so delicate." Dorothy set her teacup down. Though her face maintained a warm, magnanimous, almost pitying smile, her words cut like hidden daggers:
"However, what the Sanc Kingdom requires for its future is a Crown Princess capable of anchoring major diplomatic arenas and weathering storms alongside His Highness. If one cannot even adapt to Earth's gravity and atmosphere, I suspect remaining within the underground cities of Mars might be the safest choice, don't you think, Miss Noinheim?"
This statement bordered on an ad hominem attack, striking directly at the systemic discrimination Martians and colonials frequently faced on Earth.
Lucrezia mentally raised an eyebrow. She was inherently steady and broad-minded; a provocative jab from a haughty socialite didn't faze her in the slightest. She knew exactly how much she desired to remain on Earth to absorb its rich academic and cultural wealth. As long as she successfully avoided becoming the princess, Dorothy could throw whatever tantrums she pleased.
She even thought, with complete sincerity: 'If you can use this to disqualify me and get me out of this bridal candidacy, I should actually thank you. Being allowed to stay here as a normal student without marrying a prince is an absolute blessing.'
Thus, Lucrezia merely offered a mild smile, preparing to graciously play along with her own apparent inadequacy—
"Miss Catalonia, that is entirely out of line!"
Sophia could not contain herself. Though the daughter of the military lineage could be a bit impetuous, her core nature was pure and righteous. She already despised Dorothy's overbearing dominance, and seeing this low-profile, fragile "Martian student" bullied so transparently caused her sense of justice to explode.
"Miss Noinheim came to Earth for interplanetary exchange! Gravity disorientation is a physiological issue; how can you use it as an excuse for an attack? This is a complete lack of respect for a Martian representative!" Though Sophia spoke with immense spirit, her youthful features and petite frame left her looking slightly outmatched by Dorothy’s seasoned, aristocratic grandiosity.
The smile on Dorothy’s lips cooled, her gaze sweeping dismissively over Sophia. "Sophia, do the customs of a military household permit you to be so uncouth in front of His Royal Highness? It seems the breeding within the Alliance military is exactly like your strategies—crude to a fault."
"You—!" Sophia was completely choked by the retort. Her eyes welled with sudden, angry tears, her entire frame trembling, utterly overpowered by Dorothy's aristocratic aura.
Lucrezia, sitting quietly to the side, sighed softly to herself.
She had honestly intended to just endure it until the end. But looking at Sophia—who had stepped forward to defend her and was now looking like a thoroughly wronged, drenched puppy—the innate chivalry of a "Martian corporate heiress" made it impossible for her to sit idly by.
"Miss Catalonia is correct; the strategies of the Alliance military have never been celebrated for their elegance."
Lucrezia set her teacup down gently. The faint, crisp clink of porcelain against the saucer, for some reason, miraculously halted the bickering between Dorothy and Sophia.
Lucrezia looked up, her eyes—which had appeared somewhat listless moments ago—now clear and piercingly bright. She looked at Dorothy, offering a composed, steady smile:
"However, crudeness often translates to a high tolerance for error. Much like the Alliance's defense networks; they may lack the exquisite design of Romefeller's MD framework, but operational data demonstrates that their survival rate is fifteen percent higher when handling complex terrains and unexpected electromagnetic interference. Furthermore, in macroeconomics, over-indexing on the monopoly of a single automated framework frequently robs the market of elasticity. Should the core protocols ever be compromised, the entire conglomerate's industrial supply chain faces catastrophic collapse."
In the mildest, most courteous tone imaginable, she had articulated the most hardcore military metrics and macroeconomic logic.
Dorothy's expression shifted instantly. The condescension she held toward the "sickly Martian girl" dissolved entirely, replaced by a profound, calculating wariness.
Lucrezia turned her head, offering an encouraging, reassuring wink to Sophia. She smoothly slid a plate of exquisite pastries toward the younger girl, speaking with a touch of humor: "Miss Noventa, anger burns through blood sugar rapidly. Earth sweets are a true luxury on Mars; eat up, it makes the mood much brighter."
Sophia stared blankly at Lucrezia, the indignation on her face instantly transforming into pure adoration as she nodded vigorously. "Mmh! Thank you, Miss Noinheim!"
Dorothy's fingers gripped her teacup until her knuckles turned white. She acutely realized that this seemingly harmless Martian second daughter had just delivered a casual, devastating counter-stroke—one that not only rescued Sophia but precisely skewered the structural vulnerability of the Romefeller paradigm.
Miliardo observed the entire exchange from beginning to end.
Witnessing Dorothy’s visible frustration and the effortless manner in which Sophia had been won over, the Ice Prince experienced a profound sense of liberating satisfaction during a tea party for the very first time in his life.
His deep blue eyes anchored themselves securely onto Lucrezia. This woman read trashy romance novels in a hoodie, feigned illness in diplomatic dispatches, yet could command the entire room during a critical impasse using the calmest demeanor and the most flawless arguments. She possessed the grit of a soldier without the brutality, and the intellect of a corporate titan without the vulgarity of commercial greed. More importantly, he discerned within her a translucent integrity that refused to drift blindly with the political tide.
Miliardo elegantly raised his teacup, concealing the faint, genuine curvature forming at the corner of his mouth.
He had initially sought a disposable, insignificant "neutralizing agent," but he had inadvertently dragged a brilliant Martian fox disguised as a lamb into his arena. He had a premonition that future tea parties would become significantly more entertaining.
"Miss Noinheim’s perspectives on defense and economics are remarkably compelling," Miliardo spoke smoothly, dissolving Dorothy's lingering awkwardness. He looked directly at Lucrezia, a spark of anticipation dancing in his blue eyes that even he failed to recognize:
"It seems I will no longer find future tea parties quite so tedious."
Meeting the Crown Prince's gaze, Lucrezia tilted her head with a touch of inner resignation.
Oh dear. I couldn't help but intervene, and now I've made myself stand out even more, haven't I?
Outside the greenhouse, the fine drizzle gradually ground to a halt, and this royal tea party—revolving around a crown prince and three young ladies—had quietly veered far away from the trajectory anyone had originally anticipated, all due to a single, breathtaking display of brilliance from the Martian girl.