Chapter 1
I have been married to Prince Mike Smith for seven years, and he'd never laid a finger on me.
On our wedding night, he bowed politely and said, "Princess, you're too noble for me to disrespect."
For the next seven years, we slept on opposite sides of the bed, living completely separate lives.
I thought he was in love with someone else, so I decided to have my brother,The Emperor Oliver, to issue a divorce decree.
But outside the Library, I overheard him complaining to Oliver, "Those guards around my wife—every single one of them deserves to die."
Oliver chuckled. "How long have you been jealous, Mr. Smith?"
His voice trembled. "Eight years—ever since the day you married us."
I,The Princess Olivia, had been married to Mike Smith for seven years.
For all those years, he never once touched me.
Our wedding was the grandest romantic event in all of Newk.
One was the emperor's favorite sister, royal blood, unmatched in status.
The other was the paragon of youth—handsome and unrivaled, wielding power across the realm.
Everyone said it was a match made in heaven.
But only I knew it was a dazzling, luxurious prison.
On our wedding night, red candles burned bright, and the air was filled with the scent of silk and wax.
He wore the bright red wedding robe, but his gaze was even colder than the moonlight outside.
He stood tall and elegant before me, offering a graceful bow.
"Princess, someone as precious as you—I dare not touch," he said.
With those words, he drew the final line between us.
From that moment on, we became the closest strangers you could imagine.
For seven years, we shared a bed, but he always slept on the far side.
Between us lay a neatly folded blanket, like a wall neither of us could ever cross.
When he got up, he moved without a sound, like a shadow slipping away.
When he went to sleep, it was just as silent—never a single noise.
Sometimes, when I woke in the middle of the night, I could still catch a faint trace of herbal soap on him.
It was fresh, clean, and always kept me at a distance.
He treated me like a guest in his own home—always polite, always proper.
At meals, he'd always make sure my favorite dishes were on the table.
When the weather turned cold, he'd have new charcoal sent over to keep my rooms cozy.
On my birthday, he'd bring me rare treasures from all over.
But his eyes were always calm, never a ripple—like a bottomless ancient well.
I used to think he had someone else in his heart.
Maybe he was hung up on some unreachable muse, or a childhood sweetheart lost to family drama.
So I had the royal shadow guards scour every corner of his past twenty-something years.
Came up empty.
His life was all books, exams, and official duties—like a monk, untouched by anyone else.
I started to wonder if maybe he had some kind of health issue.
But Ethan William, the head of the imperial hospital, was on my side—and he insisted there was absolutely nothing wrong with him.
"Mr. Smith's pulse is steady, his energy is full, and he's as healthy as a horse—there's not a single thing out of place," Ethan William had assured me.
So that was that.
He just didn't love me.
Maybe he even hated me.
Maybe it was because I was the Princess—a chain of royal power forced onto him.
Once I understood that, it was time to let go of my seven-year obsession.
Tonight, the moonlight was just as cold as ever.
Mike made his way back in the cold moonlight after finishing his official duties.
A servant brought him a bowl of lotus seed soup for a late-night snack.
He sat at the table, using a white porcelain spoon to take slow, measured spoonfuls.
His movements were elegant, a delight to behold.
I walked over and draped the cloak I'd prepared over his shoulders.
He stiffened for a moment, so slight it was barely noticeable.
Then he relaxed again, as if nothing had happened.
Mike Smith spoke without looking at me, "It's late, Princess. You should get some rest."
He didn't turn around, his tone as calm and distant as always.
I gazed at his profile—well-defined features, a high-bridged nose.
He looked strikingly handsome.
But that beauty was never meant for me.
"Mike Smith," I called softly.
It was the first time I'd ever called him by his full name.
His hand froze for a moment, the spoon hovering in midair.
"I'm here," he answered, his voice calm as ever.
Finally, he turned to face me, his gaze dark and intense.
"Let's get a divorce," I said quietly.
The moment I spoke, it felt like a heavy weight dropped from my heart.
The room fell into a deathly silence.
The white porcelain spoon slipped from his hand, landing in the bowl with a sharp crack, shattering to pieces.
The soup splashed across the table.
A few drops stained his clean white official robe, blooming into small, wet blotches.
He stared at me for what felt like ages.
For the first time, I saw something in those eyes that had always been still as a deep well.
It looked like shock, disbelief, and… a flicker of panic.
He slowly stood up, swallowing hard, his throat working as he tried to steady himself.
"Princess, please... be careful with your words," he said, his voice rough and a little hoarse.
I'm clear-headed,' I replied, meeting his gaze calmly. 'You can't force love. After seven years, I'm tired. I just want to set you free—and myself, too.'
He lowered his eyes, his long lashes casting a shadow beneath them.
"I will consider this matter, Princess," he replied, his voice distant.
With those words, he left abruptly, his sleeve sweeping behind him.
He forgot entirely about the cloak I had placed on his shoulders.
The moon-white cloak slipped from his shoulders, landing in the dust.
Just like my seven years of marriage.
I left it lying there.
I spoke softly to his back as he walked away, "Mike, tomorrow I'll ask Oliver for the divorce decree."
He didn't stop.
He walked even faster.
It was like he was fleeing, almost as if he couldn't get away fast enough.
Once the thought of divorce sparked in my mind, it burned out of control—there was no stopping it.
The next day, I followed through on my promise.
I put on my formal princess attire, assembled my attendants, and got ready to head into the palace.
Just as I reached the front gate, the Butler rushed over with news.
"Princess, someone from the palace has arrived," the Butler said.
It was Butler, Oliver's chief attendant.
Behind him was a grand procession, carrying all sorts of imperial gifts.
"Princess, The emperor heard you've been looking a bit thin lately, so he sent me over with some tonics and delicacies," Butler said, his face wrinkled in a respectful smile.
Butler's face was all smiles, every line showing his utmost respect.
I understood perfectly.