The ballroom stretches out before him, a blur of swirling colors and laughter under chandeliers that cast fractured light across the polished floors. Geno stands apart, a figure draped in a deep midnight-blue coat threaded with gold—the symbols of his family crest glint on his sleeves, weighed down by tradition. The collar bites at his neck, an almost unnoticeable irritation, but he’s too restless to adjust it.

Tonight’s celebration is in honor of a new alliance, yet it feels empty, staged. He watches as nobles and wealthy merchants glide past, their laughter a practiced harmony. To them, Geno is another piece in their endless game of influence, a prince molded by family ambition. He traces the embroidered cuffs of his coat absentmindedly, letting his mind drift. Each face around him is painted with the same detached cheer, a mask he knows he’s expected to wear as well.

A sudden, sharp laugh breaks his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. The prince shifts, adjusting his collar as he scans the room once more. For a moment, he feels utterly invisible—until he meets a steady gaze from across the room, curious and unguarded, studying him with an openness that almost startles him.