My Crybaby Father is the Kingdom's Worst Villain -
Chapter 41: How to (Not) Get Engaged to a Duke’s Son
Chapter 41: How to (Not) Get Engaged to a Duke’s Son
Luzia felt a prickling sensation at the back of her neck—an undeniable feeling of being watched.
Subtly, she turned her head, scanning the crowd. It didn’t take long to find the source.
Princess Benedicta.
Seated among the noble guests, the princess stared at her with a gaze so sharp it could cut steel. Her arms were crossed, her expression unreadable but tinged with something that made Luzia’s stomach twist. Disapproval? Irritation? A hint of something darker?
Luzia’s lips pressed into a thin line as she turned back around, keeping her composure.
’Wait... Why is she looking at me like she wants to end me?’
She took a slow breath, suppressing the urge to scowl.
’She isn’t supposed to develop feelings for Ignacio yet anyway...’
The thought sent another wave of frustration through her. As if this betrothal wasn’t already enough of a mess, now the princess was looking at her like she was some kind of enemy?
Luzia resisted the urge to glance back, but the weight of Benedicta’s stare didn’t waver.
This day just kept getting worse.
Luzia took a slow breath, shoving down the frustration clawing at her ribs. If Duke Alejandro thought she would simply bow her head and accept this farce, he was sorely mistaken.
She lifted her chin, golden eyes locking onto the duke’s with unwavering defiance.
"I do not accept this ’engagement,’" she said, her voice cutting through the murmurs like a blade. "Why choose me, of all the girls here, Duke Alejandro?"
A hush fell over the crowd. Some nobles gasped at her audacity, while others leaned in, eager to witness how the duke would handle such open defiance.
Ignacio stiffened beside her, his pride still raw. "You should be honored—"
"Honored?" Luzia let out a dry laugh, turning to him with a sharp smirk. "Tell me, Lord Ignacio, do you often honor people by insulting them in one breath and forcing them into marriage in the next?"
His jaw clenched, but before he could snap out a retort, Duke Alejandro’s voice sliced through the tension.
"This is not a request, Lady Luzia," he said, his tone calm yet carrying the weight of undeniable authority.
Luzia’s gaze didn’t waver. "And I am not a pawn to be moved at your convenience, Your Grace."
A flicker of something—amusement? Annoyance?—crossed Alejandro’s face, but he remained composed.
"Your father has already given his approval," he said smoothly.
Luzia’s fingers curled at her sides, nails biting into her palms.
Her father had agreed to this behind her back?
Why?
Ramiro never liked Duke Alejandro. In the novel, he had been wary—distrustful, even—yet still, the engagement had happened. She had always assumed it was due to political pressure, some greater necessity.
But now... The story is following its path, yet I know I’ve made significant changes. Ignacio loathes me right now, but in the novel, he had started falling for Luzia when they met on his fourteenth birthday. And so had she.
Her stomach twisted. What am I missing?
She exhaled slowly. If her father had a reason, she would find out soon enough.
For now, she had no intention of making this easy.
"Then perhaps you should have betrothed my father instead," she said coolly. "He seems far more willing."
A sharp, stunned silence gripped the room. Someone choked on their drink. Elena visibly paled, shooting her a look that screamed, What are you doing?!
Ignacio stared at her, torn between outrage and disbelief. Is she crazy?
Alejandro studied her, amused despite himself. Most noble daughters would have lowered their heads by now, drowned in fear or desperation. But Luzia met his gaze without flinching, sharp as a dagger.
Foolish? Maybe. Reckless? Certainly. But he could not deny—there was something refreshing about it.
Still, amusement was a luxury. And Alejandro did not indulge in luxuries.
"You are testing my patience," he said, voice like a blade against stone.
Luzia tilted her head, eyes gleaming with challenge. "Good. Then we’re even."
The weight of his gaze bore down on her, but she refused to be the first to break eye contact. Let them all watch. Let them see that she would not bend so easily.
If they thought she was just another noble daughter to be handed off without a fight, they had all gravely miscalculated.
And judging by the tightening of Duke Alejandro’s jaw and the way Ignacio’s hands curled into fists at his sides, they were just starting to realize it.
Duke Alejandro snapped his fingers, the sharp sound echoing through the tense silence. A few minutes later, a servant arrived, carrying a silver tray with a neatly sealed letter resting atop it.
Luzia’s gaze landed on the familiar crest stamped in wax—the insignia of her family. A chill ran down her spine.
Alejandro picked up the letter with deliberate ease, turning it over in his hand before meeting her eyes.
"Shall I read it aloud to confirm your father’s acceptance," he said, his voice smooth yet edged with finality, "or would you prefer to read it yourself?"
Luzia’s fingers twitched at her sides. The weight of every noble’s gaze pressed down on her, waiting—no, expecting her to falter.
She swallowed the frustration rising in her throat and lifted her chin. "I’ll read it myself."
A ghost of a smirk tugged at Alejandro’s lips as he extended the letter toward her. "By all means."
Luzia took it, her grip firm despite the storm raging inside her. Breaking the wax seal, she unfolded the parchment, her eyes scanning the familiar handwriting of her father.
Each word struck like a blade.
To His Grace, Duke Alejandro,
I acknowledge the engagement between my daughter, Luzia, and your esteemed son, Lord Ignacio. This union shall proceed as agreed upon.
Signed, Ramiro de Cazadores
Her fingers curled around the paper. That was it. No explanation. No hesitation. Just cold, finality.
Luzia exhaled slowly, keeping her voice even. "It seems my father has made his stance clear."
But there has to be a reason...
A murmur rippled through the gathered nobles.
Alejandro arched a brow. "Then there is nothing more to discuss."
Luzia lowered the letter onto the tray, golden eyes locking onto his. "I disagree."
A flicker of something—amusement? Irritation?—crossed his face, but he remained composed.
Ignacio scoffed beside her. "Are you seriously still fighting this after seeing proof?"
Luzia let out a quiet laugh, folding the letter with deliberate precision before meeting his glare head-on.
"Proof of what, exactly? That decisions about my life are being made without me?" Her lips curled into a sharp smile. "I already knew that."
A hush fell over the room. Even Alejandro seemed to pause, studying her with newfound intrigue.
Elena, standing just a few feet away, looked ready to collapse.
Luzia took a slow step forward, her voice steady, unwavering. "Tell me, Your Grace, do you believe a forced agreement makes for a willing bride?"
Alejandro’s jaw tightened ever so slightly. "Willing or not, the engagement is set."
Luzia tilted her head, eyes gleaming with defiance. "We’ll see."
Her words hung in the air, a spark in a room full of dry kindling. And judging by the flicker in Alejandro’s crimson eyes, the fire had only just begun.
With that, Luzia turned on her heel and walked away, leaving the weight of their stares behind her.
Elena hurried after her, voice hushed but urgent. "My lady, that was dangerous! Why would you openly disrespect the duke?"
Luzia scoffed. "Because I don’t want to marry his son. Obviously."
"But still, my lady, you have no choice," Stephan interjected, his tone cautious yet firm.
Luzia’s fists clenched at her sides. She knew that. Knew it all too well.
"I know," she muttered, casting a final glance back at Duke Alejandro.
Just then, a servant approached him, whispering something in his ear. Alejandro’s expression remained composed, but there—just for a fraction of a second—his brows lifted ever so slightly, a flicker of subtle surprise crossing his face.
Luzia narrowed her eyes. What could make a man like him waver, even for a moment?
Alejandro’s gaze swept the room briefly before he signaled for the servant to follow him. Without a word, he turned and strode toward the exit.
Luzia didn’t know why, but something in her gut told her she needed to follow.
She glanced at Elena and subtly motioned for her to lean in.
"Elena, help me. I need to follow Duke Alejandro without him noticing," Luzia whispered.
Elena’s eyes widened. "But, my lady, I—"
"You’re an assassin, are you not?" Luzia cut in, arching a brow.
Elena sighed, her reluctance clear, but she nodded nonetheless. In one swift motion, she lifted Luzia into her arms.
She turned to Stephan with a polite smile. "Excuse us for a moment, Sir Stephan. The lady needs assistance with her dress. We’ll be back shortly—please wait for us."
Stephan gave a nod, unaware of their true intentions. "No problem."
With that, Elena carried Luzia out of the ballroom. They moved quickly, silent as shadows, following Alejandro and his servant through the halls.
They trailed him all the way to his study, where he finally stopped.
From their hidden position just outside the door, they listened.
"So you’re saying Duke Ramiro is requesting my help?" Alejandro asked, his voice unreadable.
"Yes," the servant confirmed. "Most of his men have been killed. For some reason, the maibeasts at Tormar are far stronger than before. That’s what the letter says."
Luzia’s breath caught in her throat. Father sent a letter asking for help? From Duke Alejandro, of all people?
That could only mean one thing—this was serious.
Inside, Alejandro let out a low chuckle, tapping his fingers against his desk.
"The all-powerful Lord Ramiro, asking me for help?" His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "Wouldn’t this be a perfect opportunity to finally be rid of him?"
Luzia clenched her fists, fury bubbling in her chest.
Alejandro exhaled, feigning consideration. "Fine. Send him reinforcements."
A pause.
"But only a fraction of our forces. Let’s see how long he lasts."
Luzia’s eyes burned with anger. He’s sending the bare minimum on purpose?
Her nails dug into her palms.
She had to do something.
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