1885, I came to save Greece

Constantine's smile carried a hint of mystery, and a certainty stemming from absolute self-confidence.

"Trust me, Your Highness."

"It is more dazzling than any jewel in the crown."

These words, like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, stirred ripples in Sophia's heart.

However, her personal lady-in-waiting, Countess Wolf from Prussia, had a frosty expression on her face.

"Your Highness!" She stepped forward, almost blocking Sofia's path, her tone as hard as a Berlin winter day, "Her Highness needs rest. Moreover, any unplanned activity is a serious breach of royal protocol. I cannot grant you this abrupt request."

The countess's words represented the ironclad rules of the Prussian court and the established conventions passed down for centuries.

In her world, there are no "surprises," only "schedules."

A hint of embarrassment appeared on Sofia's face.

The education she received from childhood, and the strictness of the Hohenzollern family flowing in her blood, all told her that she should refuse.

This is too hasty, too "Southern European," not "German" at all.

Constantine's impassioned speech in Berlin, and the powerful confidence he displayed before her, which completely disregarded the rules, were like a feather, constantly stirring up the previously untouched curiosity deep within her heart.

Constantine's gaze passed over the Countess's wary face and landed precisely on Sophia's wavering blue eyes.

He saw through her hesitation.

The man stepped forward, leaned slightly, and spoke softly in clear, elegant, and fluent German, in a volume only the two of them could hear:

"Your Highness, would you like to know about the Greece portrayed in political propaganda brochures, or the real Greece?"

This German phrase, like a precise key, instantly unlocked a certain door in Sofia's heart.

It bypassed all court etiquette and directly touched upon her deep-seated curiosity about the real world and politics that belonged to Queen Victoria's granddaughter.

She was not an ordinary princess who was content with balls and jewels.

She was tired of seeing Greece in brochures. What she saw during the day was a dilapidated reality. But this man before her promised her "truth."

A strong premonition told her that if she refused tonight, she would miss a golden opportunity to get to know this man and the soul of this country.

silence.

After a long silence.

Sofia looked up to meet Constantine's gaze and replied briefly in German:

"It's real."

Countess Wolfe's face turned deathly pale; she couldn't believe her ears. The princess had actually agreed to this absurd act, which was practically an elopement!

Constantine's smile deepened. He straightened up, resuming his posture as crown prince, and ordered the countess, "Prepare a comfortable cloak for Her Highness. Keep it quiet; we'll wait for her at the side gate."

His tone was calm, yet brooked no argument.

The countess opened her mouth, but ultimately, under Sophia's confirming gaze, she bowed and retreated in humiliation.

Ten minutes later.

A secluded side gate of the palace.

When Sophia emerged, wrapped in a dark cashmere cloak and accompanied by her lady-in-waiting, she was stunned once again.

There was no magnificent royal carriage, no retinue of guards.

Under the moonlight, Constantine stood himself beside an extremely simple, light two-wheeled carriage. The carriage wasn't even painted with any royal insignia; it looked like the kind of vehicle a wealthy merchant in Athens would use for a picnic.

He took off his gorgeous formal attire and put on a well-tailored dark riding outfit. His boots were shiny, and he looked less like a prince and more like a knight with dashing and unruly charm.

Upon seeing Sophia, he stepped forward personally and gracefully extended his hand.

Sofia hesitated for a moment, but still placed her hand in his palm.

His hands were large and warm, calloused from years of wielding swords and reins, completely unlike the pampered nobles she had encountered in Berlin.

Constantine easily helped her into the carriage, then leaped up himself, sat beside her, and expertly took the reins.

"Your Highness, this..." Countess Wolf was completely stunned. The Crown Prince was actually going to drive the carriage himself?

"You stay." Constantine didn't turn around, only uttering those three words.

"drive!"

He gave the reins a gentle tug, and the horses began to move with light steps. The carriage smoothly drove out of the side gate and into the streets of Athens in the night.

Only the petrified countess remained, bewildered in the wind.

As the carriage left the palace grounds, it felt as if it had fallen from a tranquil dream into a noisy reality.

The daytime crowds did not dissipate as night fell.

The narrow streets were uneven and potholed. The stone pavement had become loose from years of foot traffic. The wheels made a "clunking" sound as they rolled over the stones, and the whole carriage was jolted.

Sophia instinctively gripped the edge of the seat, her body swaying from side to side with the movement of the carriage.

She was born in one of the most disciplined and orderly countries in the world. In her hometown of Berlin, the streets are wide and flat, laid out like a chessboard, and at night, apart from the footsteps of patrolling soldiers, there is almost no other noise.

But here...

From the taverns along the street came the drunken singing and boisterous laughter of sailors.

In one corner, the aroma of roasted chestnuts mixed with the pungent smell of cheap tobacco wafted straight into my nose.

Several ragged children were chasing and playing, nearly crashing into their carriage, when Constantine's soft shout startled them into scattering.

The melodious church bells in the distance and the shrill cries of vendors nearby intertwined inexplicably, creating a chaotic yet vibrant symphony.

Sofia pursed her lips tightly, her brows furrowed slightly.

Everything here is challenging the understanding she has built up over the past sixteen years.

Dirty, chaotic, and disorderly.

Is this the Athens that gave birth to Plato and Aristotle?

She felt as if she were not sitting in the Crown Prince's carriage, but on a small boat tossed about in a storm, at any moment about to be swallowed up by the chaotic ocean.

Her palms were sweating profusely from nervousness.

Just then!

"Clang!"

With a loud crash, the carriage tilted sharply to one side, accompanied by a short cry of surprise from Sophia.

Without warning, a car wheel got stuck in a mud pit covered with water on the side of the road!

The immense inertia caused her body to surge forward uncontrollably.

Just when she thought she was about to crash into the car, a strong arm wrapped around her waist in a flash and pulled her back steadily.

Sophia's cheek almost brushed against Constantine's solid chest, and her nose was instantly filled with a masculine scent mixed with sweat, leather, and a faint scent of soap.

The instant their bodies pressed together made all the surrounding noise seem to disappear in that moment.

The atmosphere instantly became subtle.

Constantine looked down and could see Sophia's bright blue eyes, slightly widened from shock, and her lips, which she was biting lightly with nervousness.

He held her arm, not letting go immediately.