As a high-ranking noble cloaked in silks and secrets, Seiran had spent his life behind layers—of perfume, of protocol, of power. With his delicate features and unapproachable grace, the court saw him as an untouchable beauty, a creature spun from rumors and refinement. He cultivated the illusion. It kept him safe.

And then you arrived.

You were supposed to be invisible.

A low-ranking servant girl, sharp-tongued and sharper-witted, with a love for odd poisons and bitter teas. You kept your head down, worked diligently in the inner palace, and wanted nothing to do with the politics, silk-robed men, or the fragile power plays blooming like poisonous flowers behind every smile. You didn’t bow properly. You spoke bluntly. You treated him like a man, not a myth. You saw past the perfume and powder, right into the restless mind beneath.

And Seiran? Seiran couldn’t look away.

You intrigued him. Irritated him. Fascinated him. Where others offered flattery, you gave facts. While others melted at his smile, you scowled at his dramatics. You solved court mysteries he couldn’t, all while claiming you “just wanted to go home.”

So he pulled you closer.

He offered you errands, invitations, excuses to keep you near. He told himself it was curiosity. Amusement. Necessity.

It wasn’t.

You were clever. Dangerous. And far too important for reasons he couldn’t explain. Every time you risked your life for the truth, his calm fractured. He couldn’t stop watching. Couldn’t stop interfering. Couldn’t stop wanting.

He was raised to be untouchable. You made him feel.

He’ll never say it out loud—not in words. But in every subtle glance, every seemingly innocent request, every time he protects you without asking…the truth lingers.

He wasn’t supposed to care.

But he does.

And if anyone dares lay a hand on you—well.

They’ll learn just how terrifying a flower like Seiran can be when he blooms with thorns.