CHAPTER 75: 999 ROSES AND ONE YES

[Leif’s POV—Rainbow Fashion Show, Thorenvald Garden—Evening—Continuation]

I scanned the crowd for Alvar, but he was nowhere to be seen. My stomach knotted slightly—where is he?

"Leif..." my father’s voice cut through my thoughts, calm but firm. "You should start the event. People are waiting."

I straightened, lifting my chin. "Yes, Father," I replied, my voice smooth and confident.

The music swelled, strings and brass intertwining like molten gold, and the spotlights danced across the silver ramp. Nobles murmured in excitement, their eyes gleaming under the lantern light. I stepped onto the stage, champagne glass in hand, moving with the poise of someone who had already won.

I raised my glass slightly, smiling faintly, and began.

"Ladies and gentlemen," my voice carried easily over the chatter, firm and polished. "Welcome to the first-ever Rainbow Fashion Show. Tonight, you will witness designs that celebrate color, light, and the brilliance of Trivium Core Stones."

A ripple of polite applause ran through the audience. Backstage, my models fidgeted nervously, catching my gaze. I offered them a reassuring smile.

Don’t worry, my pretties. You’re about to steal the show.

I gestured gracefully, about letting the light catch the first pieces of jewelry. "Thank you for waiting patiently. And now... I present my unique jewels—crafted by elves, each infused with the magical essence of Trivium Core Stones."

A gasp ran through the crowd.

"Did he just say... elves?" a voice whispered behind me.

"By the gods... the jewelry was made by elves?" another noble breathed. "I... I cannot believe it!"

"But...didn’t they disappear?" another whispered.

I let a faint, amused smile curl on my lips.

"Indeed," I said smoothly, voice dripping with charm and confidence. "Handcrafted, enchanted, and utterly one-of-a-kind. Each piece is designed to dazzle, to captivate... and to announce that whoever wears it will shine brighter than the stars themselves."

The nobles leaned forward, whispering, eyes wide. I raised my glass again, tilting my head just so.

"Now... let the show begin."

And just like that—the first model stepped onto the ramp, and the crowd collectively held its breath. She wore a flowing gown of deep sapphire, the fabric catching the spotlight like liquid velvet. Around her neck, a Trivium Core Stone necklace shimmered, shifting through a rainbow of colors with every subtle turn.

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the audience.

"By the gods... it changes with the light!"

whispered a duke, nearly tipping his wine glass in shock.

Behind her, more women followed, each more breathtaking than the last. A ruby-red pendant pulsed like a heartbeat; emerald cuffs glimmered like fresh dew under the moonlight; a delicate bracelet scattered tiny prisms of rainbow across the ramp with each graceful motion. Nobles leaned forward, eyes wide, clearly trying to memorize every detail.

I sipped my champagne, a slow, knowing smirk tugging at my lips.

Exactly as planned.

Letting women walk first on the ramp with dignity and elegance, their movements showcasing each jewel like a masterful display of art. Every noble was transfixed.

Next, the men strode onto the ramp. Tall and commanding, each adorned in intricately designed collars, cufflinks, and rings. The Trivium stones caught the spotlights, exploding into cascading flashes of color with every purposeful step.

Finally, the pièce de résistance—the couples’ jewelry. Models walked hand in hand, bracelets, rings, and pendants perfectly paired, and colors shifted and reflected in tandem.

The audience collectively gasped, and some murmured, "How... how could one even imagine such harmony?"

I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. Yes. This is it. This is exactly what I envisioned.

Each step, each turn, the jewels danced in harmony with the models’ movements. Colors melted into one another—deep violets spilling into fiery oranges, soft blues shimmering into brilliant golds. The lighting played with each facet, making the stones appear almost alive.

Nobles were leaning forward, mesmerized, some clutching their fans or handkerchiefs, whispering frantic praise.

"This is... revolutionary," muttered a marquess, voice trembling with awe. "I’ve never seen a presentation like this in my life."

"Indeed," said a duchess, eyes wide, "It’s... almost as if the jewels themselves are walking the ramp!"

I grinned like a cat who’d just knocked over the cream.

No one will stop my jewelry from going on trend. Money... prestige... admiration... all flowing straight to me.

I was basking in my own genius when—wait, what? What’s happening?

My models suddenly veered off the ramp, moving with elegant precision straight toward me. Each knelt gracefully before me, as if I were some divine centerpiece.

I froze, wine glass hovering mid-air. "What the—WHAT?!"

And then—

CRACKLE!

BOOM!!!

Fireworks exploded above the garden, casting cascading sparks over the audience and the ramp. Gasps, claps, and a few dropped fans echoed everywhere.

And amidst the glittering chaos, I saw... a moving wall of roses. Hundreds, maybe thousands, carried by attendants, forming a path straight to me. My jaw dropped so far it nearly hit the floor.

"What the actual...?" I muttered, unable to process. Is this some kind of royal ambush? A floral coup?

And then, peeking from the sea of red and pink petals... he.

Alvar. My infuriatingly perfect man. Dressed in black and gold, a long cloak billowing behind him as if he’d just descended from a romantic fantasy. And in his hands... a bouquet large enough to cause structural damage.

He stepped forward slowly, each step measured, commanding the attention of the entire garden. The music shifted slightly, a soft string interlude playing like it had been waiting just for him.

And then he—kneels. In front of me.

I froze. My brain short-circuited. My wine glass nearly exploded from the sheer disbelief. "Wh... what... Alvar... what are you—"

He raised his head, eyes glinting with mischief and something dangerously romantic.

"Leif," he said, voice calm but carrying the kind of weight that could sink empires, "I’ve waited for the perfect moment. I’ve tried being subtle... but clearly, subtle doesn’t work on someone like you."

. . .

. . .

I stared flatly, heart thudding in my chest.

Is he mocking me? Is this... serious?

But Alvar continued—still kneeling, still impossibly composed.

"I thought it was a joke when you said you liked men," he confessed, his tone soft, a ghost of laughter under his breath. "I thought it was another one of your clever tricks to avoid your duties."

The nobles gasped—men?!—but Alvar ignored them.

His gaze rose, and when our eyes met, I forgot how to breathe.

"...But then I watched you," he said. "You handled Frojnholm like a storm disguised as sunlight and the way you tried every little trick to dump all your work onto me..."

I blinked. My lips twitched into a faint, almost guilty smile.

A ripple of laughter passed through the crowd—but Alvar wasn’t smiling anymore. His voice softened, heavy with sincerity.

"Every lazy, casual, frustrating little thing you do," he whispered, "Made me realized... I’d already fallen for you. Without even noticing when or how."

My breath hitched. He stood slowly, closing the distance between us.

"When I came to Frojnholm," he continued, "I told myself I was just there for work. But every day, I found more reasons not to leave. Your laziness. Your laughter. Your impossible chaos. You turned every corner of that frozen land into something warm."

His eyes shimmered in the lantern light. "You made me want to stay. And before I knew it—my heart had already surrendered to you."

My lips trembled into a faint smile. I could barely hear the gasps, the murmurs, or the rustle of dresses.

All I could hear was him.

Then—he lifted a massive bouquet of crimson roses. The petals glowed faintly under the light—magic woven through every bloom.

"But since I’ve realized what you mean to me," Alvar said, his voice steady now, loud enough for everyone to hear, "... I refuse to waste another day pretending I don’t."

He knelt again—this time deeper, one hand over his heart.

And as the crowd fell utterly silent, he declared,

"Leif Thorenvald, you’ve ruined my peace, my logic, and my carefully planned life. You made me dream of chaos and call it home. You made me believe in something beautiful again. So tell me..."

He lifted the bouquet—999 crimson roses.

"...My love, will you marry me?"

The garden erupted.

Gasps. Cries. Cheers. Nobles clutched pearls. The orchestra froze mid-note.

Alina squealed, "BROTHER, SAY YES!!! I WANT THOSE ROSES!!!"

Nick openly wiped his eyes. Alvar’s Mother stood proudly with a smirk. Mother pressed her hand to her mouth, trembling. Even Father coughed suspiciously, like he definitely wasn’t crying.

And me?

I just stood there—heart hammering, breath shaking, vision blurring. One tear slipped down before I could stop it.

I laughed softly, voice trembling, "You idiot... you didn’t have to make a scene."

He smiled faintly, eyes never leaving mine. "You deserve the whole empire’s witness, Leif."

I choked out a laugh—half sob, half smile—and whispered, "Yes. I will marry you."

The crowd exploded. Cheers filled the air. Alina jumped up and down, screaming about roses. The orchestra burst into triumphant music.

Alvar rose, one arm circling my waist, pulling me close before I could react. His voice brushed against my ear, low and certain.

"Now... the whole empire knows you’re mine."

The lanterns flared brighter, the night sky glittered with bursts of magic, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to pause—just us, wrapped in starlight.

And as his lips met mine, beneath the cascade of roses and roaring applause, I thought—for the first time in my life—

Maybe fairy tales weren’t overrated after all.