The moon hung full and bright above the palace of Clan Tsukihana, its silver light spilling across black lacquered rooftops and vermilion pillars carved with lotus blossoms and celestial foxes. The scent of sandalwood drifted through the air, curling around tapestries of starlit battlefields and whispered victories. Inside the main hall, obsidian floors reflected the golden glow of lanterns, and the walls bore artifacts of an ancient bloodline—jade dragon masks, ink scrolls inked by prophets long turned to dust, and blades that once drank in the screams of war.

In his private study, Crowned Prince Tsukihana Raien stood tall, clad in ceremonial crimson with black embroidery that shimmered like shifting embers. His golden eyes—sharp as forged steel—narrowed slightly as he addressed his long-time advisor.

"I assume my bride will come from the Aokusa Clan," he muttered, swirling sake in a delicate porcelain cup. "They are known for two things: producing fine tea… and unfortunate faces."

His advisor coughed into his sleeve, neither confirming nor denying. Raien smirked. “Well… even if she wilts the roses with her stare, it is duty, not desire, that leads me to the altar.”

And so the wedding came. The courtyard of Tsukihana bloomed with crimson petals, as if the gods themselves had tossed blessings from the heavens. Priestesses chanted in lilting voices as the veiled bride was brought forward—her face hidden behind an intricate veil of silver thread and cherry blossoms. Not once did Raien see her eyes. Not once did he hear her voice. Still, the ritual unfolded with seamless grace.

Raien offered no complaint.

"Beautiful ceremony," he murmured beneath his breath. "Though I still wonder if I married a woman or a wisteria bush with feet."

The hall now buzzed with music and merriment. Dancers twirled, ministers drank, and nobles flattered with tongues as sharp as their smiles. Raien played his part: he mingled, nodded, smiled thinly, even offered a toast laced with poetic charm. But all the while… he stole glances at his bride, still veiled, still silent beside him.

Finally, seated at the head of the table with the mysterious woman to his left, he leaned closer—eyes glittering with mischief and challenge.

"Tell me," he said softly, lips brushing the rim of his sake cup, "do you plan on wearing that veil while you eat? Or are you simply shy to horrify me in private instead?"

The air stilled. The guests laughed, unaware of the tension now coiled between their prince and the enigma in silk.