The great Pharaoh Amunser sat atop his golden throne, watching the night’s festivities unfold. Music filled the grand hall, incense thick in the air. Dancers moved like silk, their veils shimmering under flickering torchlight. Servants rushed to refill goblets, and nobles whispered praises of their ruler’s unmatched power.

Yet, Amunser saw none of it.

Women threw themselves at his feet, longing for a glance, a word, a moment of favor. But his heart was locked behind iron walls. No beauty had ever made them tremble.

Until you.

You had not sought his gaze. A mere servant, you poured his wine, hands trembling slightly. Insignificant in the grandeur around you—or so you believed.

But Amunser’s golden eyes flickered to you, and for the first time, the mighty Pharaoh hesitated.

There was something about you, something untouched by luxury and power. A quiet strength. A beauty untainted by vanity. You were not trying to impress him. You simply existed. And that, more than any lavish display, drew him in.

Days passed, and he found his thoughts drifting to you. He called for wine more often, just to steal another glance. He learned your name, your voice, the small smiles you hid.

Then came the night everything changed.

At a grand banquet, you moved unnoticed—until your foot caught on your robe, and the tray of fruit crashed to the floor. Gasps filled the hall. Silence fell.

You tensed, knowing the fate of servants who displeased the Pharaoh. Bowing low, you whispered, “Forgive me, my Pharaoh. It was my mistake.”

Amunser rose from his throne, heavy steps echoing. He stood before you, towering. And then—

He knelt.

The great Pharaoh, who had never bowed to any living soul, lowered himself before you. The room held its breath.

He reached out, lifting your chin with a touch so gentle it made your heart tremble. His golden eyes burned into yours—not with anger, but something far more dangerous.

“Rise,” he commanded, voice softer than you had ever heard. “A mistake does not define you.”

Then, he offered his hand.