Hardy straightened up, a victorious smile on his face as he looked down at Princess Margaret. Her face, however, was as cold as frost, glaring at him with eyes full of malice, as if she might bite him at any mont.
Hardy remained unbothered by that.
"Your Highness, let introduce myself. My na is Jon Hardy," he said with a smile.
"Hmph!" was the only response he received from the princess.
"At the banquet earlier, why did Your Highness keep looking at as though I had offended you? I'm quite sure that today is the first ti we've t," Hardy inquired.
Princess Margaret clenched her teeth.
She snorted again, showing no interest in answering his question.
Suddenly Hardy felt a sharp pain in his foot.
Margaret had stomped down hard on his foot.
Hardy looked at her, and the girl's face was filled with satisfaction from her little revenge.
This girl did that on purpose.
At that mont, another couple passed by, blocking the view between Hardy and Margaret. Seizing the opportunity, Hardy's hand, which had been holding Margaret's waist, swiftly slid down and smacked her butt. By the ti the couple moved away, his hand had already returned to her waist.
Margaret was utterly shocked.
She couldn't believe it.
This wretched man.
This vulgar Arican.
He had the audacity to hit her.
And in public, no less.
And he hit her… on her bottom!
Though it wasn't particularly painful, the humiliation Margaret felt was overwhelming. Her face flushed bright red, her breathing beca erratic, and the look she gave Hardy was no longer just one of disgust, but a ferocious glare, like that of a corgi about to bite.
Why a corgi?
Margaret was about to start struggling again, but Hardy imdiately tightened his grip. This ti, his voice turned serious. "Don't move. If the two of us start a fight here, I guarantee it'll be front-page news all over the world by tomorrow."
A fight between the two of them?
Princess Margaret understood clearly that if she dared to bite this man, he absolutely wouldn't let it go—he would retaliate fiercely.
And then, the two of them would be brawling in the ballroom of Buckingham Palace.
Just imagine that scene.
The British royal family, British nobility, the Pri Minister and mbers of the Cabinet, the Arican aid delegation and the inspection& investnt team—over two hundred influential and powerful people—would all be watching in shock as the British princess and the Arican billionaire tore at each other's hair and fought in the center of the dance floor.
Oh my God.
The re thought of it made Princess Margaret's body tremble involuntarily.
If such a thing really happened.
It would cause a global sensation.
"Phew, phew, phew…"
Margaret didn't dare to act recklessly anymore, but she was so furious that her nostrils flared like an enraged little corgi.
"You're not even a real man!" Margaret spat venomously under her breath.
All the while, her feet still followed the dance steps.
"Haha, if you doubt it, you can test it for yourself," Hardy retorted, not backing down in the slightest.
Margaret was on the verge of going mad.
This man actually dared to say such indecent things to her.
"You, you—you're truly a shaless scoundrel!"
"Haha, that's the most accurate thing you've said all night. I admit, I am a scoundrel."
Oh my God.
Oh, dear God!
Never in her life had Margaret imagined encountering soone like this. The man in front of her had reached levels of shalessness she could never have predicted.
I've lost… completely lost!
Margaret was utterly defeated.
She was simply willful.
That was because she had been pampered.
In truth, she was nothing more than a delicate flower nurtured in the royal greenhouse. When it ca to being shaless, she was in a completely different league than Hardy, incomparable by any asure.
At last, Margaret beca obedient.
She followed Hardy's lead in the dance.
The long piece of music finally ended, and as soon as Hardy released her hand, Princess Margaret fled from him, practically running back to her seat.
There was still a hint of lingering fear on her face.
A noblewoman sitting nearby tried to engage Margaret in casual conversation, but Margaret, distracted and lost in thought, responded absentmindedly, completely unaware of what the other person was saying. Her replies were so mismatched that the noblewoman eventually gave up and politely excused herself to chat with soone else.
Finally, after ten minutes of calming herself down, Margaret's usual feisty personality began to return. She coldly scanned the hall, searching for that loathso scoundrel.
Hardy, at this mont, was chatting with soone.
Suddenly, he sensed a wave of hostility from afar. After his rebirth, he had gained three abilities: enhanced physical recovery, improved mory, and heightened danger perception.
As soon as he felt the surge of animosity, Hardy instinctively turned towards the source, only to et a pair of eyes filled with murderous intent.
Princess Margaret was glaring at Hardy with a hatred so fierce, she looked as if she wanted to kill him.
Just monts ago, she had suffered the greatest humiliation of her life.
How could a high and mighty princess possibly accept that?
Seeing that the source of the hostility was Princess Margaret, Hardy imdiately understood why Her Highness was looking at him like that. He held a glass of wine in his hand, a smug smile on his face, and raised the glass in a toast to Princess Margaret.
To outsiders, it seed like a simple greeting, but to Margaret, it was a blatant provocation—a naked challenge.
Aaargh!
Margaret was on the verge of exploding.
That scoundrel was the worst of the worst.
Suddenly, Princess Margaret shot to her feet, lifted the hem of her gown, and stord out of the ballroom. She needed to leave this place. She hadn't liked these kinds of social events to begin with, boring beyond belief and now, she detested them even more.
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