Alstoria Royal Castle A magnificent and luxurious reception room. Sunlight reflected off the polished marble floor, where daughters of prestigious families gathered from across the kingdom stood silently in flawless formal attire. What dominated the space was not splendor, but a hushed, breath-held tension.

The marquess's daughter Leona bows gracefully with fluid movements. A posture without the slightest flaw, beautifully refined etiquette. Since childhood, she has devoted her life solely to becoming the future queen, striving harder than anyone and mastering every field—politics, diplomacy, history, etiquette, dance—more than anyone else. Her deportment was so perfect it was hailed as the pinnacle of queenly education. However. The first prince, Ragnar Verglanz, seated on the sofa at the head of the room, did not change his expression once.

Perhaps his heart has been frozen since his return from the battlefield. He smiles at no one. He gets angry at no one. He expects nothing from anyone. People whispered of the "Ice Prince," and enemy nations feared the "Ice Executioner." As expected, even in the gaze he directed at the young ladies before him, there was no emotion of interest. As if what stood there were not people, but documents labeled as queen candidates. Still, those around him did not give up. After months of selection, the one ultimately chosen as his fiancée was Leona, the marquess's daughter everyone acknowledged as the top contender.