His hair was a brilliant, sun-drenched gold, a stark contrast to his crimson eyes. Weirdly it had power to pull people in as though they were bound by some unseen force, a gravitational pull that no one could resist.
Just like many people, I wasn’t different. I got pulled, captivated, by that force. Both manners and modesty long forgotten as I stared openly at the man before me. His eyes, a deep shade of red, focused on me firmly, piercing me like shards of glass and leaving a ghost wound.
“Your Highness, it’s been a long time.” I heard a voice from the chief librarian, freeing me from that piercing stare as he approached us.
Oh, I am so screwed.
With no time to register my shock, I quickly dipped in a hurry. I had thought he was no ordinary man, but a prince?
My eyes fixed to the hexagonal grid pattern carved on the floor beneath me, trying to process this information.
Which prince could he be?
“If there’s a book you’re looking for, I’ll fetch it for you.”
“No need. I thought I’d wander a bit, been too long.”
The welcoming banquet for the third prince, who had been studying abroad in a neighboring country, was scheduled in a few months, so probably it wasn’t him.
“We’ve had a lot of rare manuscripts come in recently. Many of them are in excellent condition.”
“Is that so?”
Judging by their exchange, he must visit the library quite often. This would rule out the second prince, who was said to be frequently absent from the palace due to his military campaigns. And the fourth prince? Sylvia once said she’d never seen the tip of his nose, he was a recluse who practically lived within the palace walls.
Which leaves only…
My heart began to quicken. A prickle crept up the back of my neck, and my fingertips turned pale. My instincts were sprinting ahead, far past the reach of logic.
Could it be? Is it really him?
While my mind raced, the librarian slipped away. I felt the Prince’s gaze drop to my face, before sliding down to the pass hanging around my neck.
“From the Empress’ court, I see.” A low, unmistakable voice.
Something stirred in my chest—like vertigo swaying my balance. I steadied myself, taking a slow, deep breath, and solidified my toes against the marble floor.
“Recently appointed to the Imperial Dance Troupe…”
“My name is Len—”
“…I am Len.”
The pause before he responded stretched like eternity.
“Oh, so you are…”
“—The one from the dance troupe…”
“…That dancer at the banquet?”
Suddenly, a faded scene and a voice from long ago, blanched by time, bleeding through this moment and blended into vivid focus before my eyes.
The once-blurred face was formed with perfect clarity, features this time. The vague outline became a clear line, the blank spaces now etched with light and shadow.
Ah… I had endured all that time to see this face.
“I remember you so well from before… but do you know me?”
My throat tightened, my eyes began to burn. I wanted, desperately so, to unfurl the long script pages of years between us and lay it before him.
To show him how the face I so longed to remember had been worn down to blurry.
To let him see how that quiet, desolate tragedy had torn my life to pieces.
If only I could show him the resolve I had made to live on with those ruined memories.
“…Prince Kaelzeno…”
A name I’d held close to my heart all this time,
A name that had become part of me,
A name too sacred to utter aloud.
“I’ve longed to see you again.”
At my words, his red eyes glimmered faintly.
Was this what his eyes had always looked like?
Even in my dreams I’d never dared summon his face. To see it again in real, was overwhelming. As though I were finally being repaid for every anguished night spent missing someone with a faceless face.
“You’ve longed to see me…?” His voice trailed off, thoughtful. As I tried to pull myself together, he continued, “Call me Kael.” His tone came hoarse, as if stifling a smile
He reached toward the shelf and pulled out the book I had been eyeing earlier.
“I was late touching it. The least I can do is let you have it,” he smiled deeply.
“No, Your Highness, you should take it—”
“Then lend it to me in five days.”
I hesitated. But before I could reply, he gently took my wrist and placed the book in my hands. The warmth of his touch and the softness of the aged parchment melted together at the palm of my hand.
“I’ll be waiting for you in the Prince’s Garden.”
He walked away, but left behind a promise.
And the quiet, thunderous echo of my heart.
“Sylvia, what are the princes like?” I tossed the question casually, feigning interest while sorting books.
“Why the sudden curiosity?” she answered without much thought.
“Just because. I just thought it would be good to know about them, living in the palace and all.” I made up a vague answer, avoiding her sharp eyes. Thankfully, she didn’t question it.
Instead, her eyes sparkled as she straightened her back, eager to begin. Clearly this was her area of expertise.
“Guess we’ll start with the first prince: the famous Kaelzeno Munis. He’s too talented, which makes you wonder if the gods have favorites. He has insight and leadership, and is brilliant enough to debate scholars on any subject.”
A man who makes you feel the gods are unjust.
The stories people had gossiped about him when I was a child were similar:
“The young master is already so outstanding, imagine what he’ll be like as an adult!”
“Surely he’ll be crowned Crown Prince one day.”
But no one ever considered the weight such expectations must place on his shoulders.
“And his family? Flawless. His father, Duke Clint, is one of the Empire’s most powerful figures and well respected. Every noble looking to enter central politics wants an alliance with House Munis.”
I’d seen his father before. That hard-set jaw, that biting glare. This piece of memory of him sent a chill through my heart.
Every night, most of my prayers were for one thing: That Kaelzeno Munis would no longer have to suffer because of his father.
And then, quietly, I slipped another prayer: If I am not a burden to him, please… grant me one more chance to see him again.
“If he has a flaw, it’s that he’s too perfect, which makes him lack a bit of human warmth. And that’s about the first prince.” Sylvia continued without noticing how awkwardly I nodded. “Now, second prince… haahh. Famous for all the wrong reasons. You should avoid him at all costs. They call him ‘The Shadow Sentinel of the Battlefield.’ A war-crazed, a maniac. Sure, he’s expanded the Empire’s borders, but at what cost? Nothing but blood and corpses. Though it’s kind of understandable since their founder, Eoshin, has always risen in rank by offering the heads of enemy war heroes.”
The second prince’s name was… right, Maevlok Eoshin.
Said to be an exceptional fighter from a young age, he joined conquest campaigns early and earned great acclaim. But as Sylvia pointed out, his ruthlessness left others in admiration and in fear.
“Rumor is, no one’s seen his older brother since childhood… Some even whisper that Prince Maevlok killed him, and the Duke covered it up. Although unconfirmed, it shows how cruel his nature is if such a rumor could spread.” Sylvia shuddered with disgust. “And don’t even get me started on the noble girls who’ve fainted over him. No idea what those girls see in him, but they go crazy over him. He doesn’t even bat an eye when they cry and cling to him. Of course not, would a man who swings a sword for a living care about such things? He’s born ruthless, so you be careful.”
It was unlikely I’d ever cross paths with him, but I nodded seriously, humoring her. I steered the conversation away from Prince Maevlok, who Sylvia was still ranting about, and asked, “What about the third prince?”
“Oh, Rodelwyn Carteon. The only son of House Carteon, grew up like a flower in a greenhouse. Compared to his brothers, he’s much more charming and approachable. Honestly, I don’t think there’s anyone in the palace who dislikes him. There’s a reason why he got ‘The Peony of the High Society’ as his nickname.”
The Peony of the High Society?
A… very peculiar nickname, but perhaps he was just that sociable to have earned such a name.
“He’s the most popular among girls our age. Plenty of families are lining up to have their daughters become his consort.”
After hearing all this, I became even more curious about the fourth prince, who was said to be a recluse among such distinguished princes. As if reading my thoughts, Sylvia added, “Rune Adansoni? Like I said, no one’s seen him. Supposedly sickly, barely ever leaves the palace. But some say the Emperor is hiding him away, grooming him to be the next Crown Prince.”
“The Emperor himself?”
“Unlike the other three princes who were selected, he was personally chosen by the Emperor.”
That was unexpected.
“Wouldn’t that make him the most likely to become Crown Prince?”
But Sylvia shook her head at my hasty assumption.
“Rumors about him are here and there, but he’s shrouded in too much mystery. Also, he hasn’t shown anything in comparison to the three other talented princes, has he? Unless a miracle happens, he’s the furthest from the throne.”
A miracle… such a rare thing in the palace. All the more reason to be grateful, that mine had come true.
“Call me Kael.”
He was smiling. And that smile, I saw no trace of the old sorrow, no shadow of the heavy loneliness I used to sense in him.
I thought it was enough. It was all I had ever wanted for him. That was all I needed. That he could smile like that without me, that he had long forgotten the memories from that time…
But, still…
I brushed my fingers across the pendant at my chest, trying to press down on the swell of emotion rising once more. Trying to quiet the pulse that had begun to flutter beneath it.
“Going for a walk?”
“Mhm. I’ll be back soon.”
The guards posted at the entrance to the Prince’s Garden let me through without a word, they must have been instructed to expect me.
I cautiously stepped into the garden’s hush. Silence settled around me like a cloak. The soft thump of my heartbeat sounded too loud in my ears, worrying me if someone might hear it. Before I realized, I’d reached the far end of the garden.
There, against the wall, stood a tall cluster of flowers that only bloom under the moonlight, evening primroses.
“Beautiful…” I breathed.
Thanks to its characteristic of blooming at night, the evening primrose was designated as the national flower. It was expensive and difficult to find in the market, as it was only cultivated in the palace. I had seen it in a botanical book and recognized it at once. Each petal, soaked in the moonlight, glowed faintly in the dark. They mesmerized me. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
I sat and gazed at them for what felt like both a second and an eternity.
Rustle.
A light touch brushed along my shoulder blade. Startled, I was twisting around to stand, only to trip over the hem of my skirt.
“Ah…!”
My hands stretched instinctively. But a strong hand firmly gripped my hands. With it came a heady and dizzying scent, tangled with the fragrance of the evening primroses around us.
“I only meant to nudge you gently to not startle you with my voice, didn’t expect to be the other way.” His arm was wrapped around my waist, holding me against him. It burned like fire through the layers of my dress.
All I could do was gasping for air in his embrace.
“You wandered farther than I thought.”
“I… I was lost in thought.”
“What kind of thoughts, if you don’t mind asking?”
You.
If I said it, I would be telling the truth. But, it didn’t sit right with me to bluntly confess it.
“…I suppose, I was bewitched by the flowers.”
“Is that so?” he asked in a whisper. His low breath brushed against my cheeks. Faintly, a small, shy smile etched on his face. “Then I believe… we’re in the same predicament.”
His red eyes, catching the slant of moonlight, shone radiantly.
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