Chapter 142: Amelia Frost [4] (Bonus - )

"So you’re the lady of the Frost family."

Amelia could still remember the first time she met her—clear as if it had happened yesterday.

The silver-haired girl stood among a circle of towering knights, yet it was she, not they, who drew every gaze. There was no need for raised voices or showy gestures; her very presence eclipsed everyone around her.

"Pleased to meet you," Alice had said then, her tone polite but not distant. "Let’s get along, as we’re both part of the Emperor’s faction."

Perhaps it was the merchant’s instinct, inherited from her parents, that made Amelia notice her so quickly. Or maybe it was the Northerner’s yearning for strength that pulled her in.

Whatever it was, from that very moment, the brilliance radiating from Alice was something Amelia found herself unable to look away from.

She doubted she was the only one. During that friendly hunt at the social gathering, anyone with eyes must have felt it too—that magnetic pull, that quiet dominance.

But not everyone saw it kindly. After all, a light that bright can blind.

Even now, Gareth Velastin still wasted his days chasing her, drowning in petty jealousy.

"Such a fool," Amelia thought then, and she still thought it now.

What good was it to glare at the sun in envy? All it did was hurt your eyes.

Amelia had no interest in being just another onlooker. She wanted to be more—maybe not her equal, but someone indispensable. Someone who could stand beside her, not beneath her.

And so, she worked her way closer. The fact they were of the same age and gender made the approach easier, but it was still a climb. Step by careful step, she reached the point where Alice called her "Ami," and she could respond with an affectionate "Ali."

As a girl, Amelia had once jumped on her bed, giddy from hearing that nickname for the first time. Some might have called it infatuation. Perhaps it was.

But infatuation fades. What she felt only deepened over the years.

That was why, on the day of the North’s grandest event—the martial arts tournament—Amelia had been restless with anticipation. This was Alice’s stage, her moment to shine before all.

She had fought through the preliminaries herself, but she knew well enough: a mortal could not defeat the sun.

And that day, Alice had been every bit the sun she imagined—her swordsmanship so fierce it cut even through the most disciplined magic.

"If she wins the championship," Amelia had thought, "it will be perfect."

But then... someone else had reached the final. And that someone had managed to do what she thought impossible.

They had defeated her sun.

The final match had been chaos in Amelia’s eyes—cheers, clashing steel, bursts of magic. But none of that mattered. Her focus had been on Alice, every movement of her sword as sharp and beautiful as she’d imagined.

And then... Julies Evans had taken it from her.

An outsider. A Baron’s son. Someone who, until that day, had been little more than a name in passing.

At first, the crowd didn’t like it—that some outsider had managed to defeat Alice.

And of course, she didn’t like it either.

But when the Duke of the North, Alice’s father, stepped in and officially announced Julies as the winner, no one could say anything.

So, the crowd roared his name in victory, but Amelia could hardly hear it over the ringing in her ears.

She told herself it was disappointment—that she had simply wanted to see Alice win. But as the days passed, she realized it was something else entirely.

Because Julies hadn’t simply beaten Alice.

He stayed near her. Always.

Wherever Alice went, Julies followed—sometimes in the quiet, dutiful way of a servant, other times in ways that felt... different. Too close. Too familiar.

And worse—Alice didn’t push him away. She laughed with him. Trusted him. Let him stand by her side in moments Amelia had always dreamed of being hers.

It was absurd. He wasn’t her equal. He wasn’t even in her class. He was just—just a Baron’s son.

And yet, somehow, he was closer to her sun than Amelia was.

The more she watched, the more the unease twisted inside her. Jealousy was too mild a word. There was a creeping, suffocating fear that one day, Alice’s gaze might turn toward him in a way that left no room for her at all.

No. She wouldn’t allow it.

That was when the idea came to her—sharp, practical, and perfectly within her reach.

If Julies Evans was bound elsewhere—married into her family, far from Alice’s side—then he could no longer cast his shadow over what was hers. An engagement would not only remove him from Alice’s orbit but also keep him in a place where she could watch him. Control him.

It was nothing personal, she told herself. Just necessary.

And so, one quiet afternoon over tea, Amelia let the words drop with the same casualness one might use to comment on the weather.

"My father suggested the idea of an engagement to the Ethan Baronial family."

Alice’s hand jerked slightly, the porcelain teacup rattling against its saucer.

Of course, Amelia noticed but didn’t say anything.

She just smiled, like always.

"Pfft—!"

Then Amelia’s attention focused on the source of her problem.

Julies, who had been standing nearby, also choked on his water. "Ah, I’m sorry!" he blurted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"It’s okay. A minor flaw in a fiancé," Amelia replied smoothly.

Julies froze, caught off guard. "Is it... really?"

Without missing a beat, Amelia stepped over and offered him a folded handkerchief. He accepted it awkwardly, murmuring thanks, but the discomfort between them hung in the air.

Alice watched, ignoring the small, sharp twist in her chest. Whatever it was—jealousy, irritation—she pushed it down.

Amelia, on the other hand, hid her own far more dangerous feeling behind a warm smile.

Yeah, she wasn’t going to let him go anywhere near Alice... She would protect her from this Julies Evans.

...Even if it meant sacrificing herself by marrying him.

She would gladly do so.