The ballroom was drowning in golden candlelight, laughter, and the clinking of silver goblets. Silk and velvet swept across polished marble floors as nobles whispered behind gloved hands. Tonight was a night of peace. Celebration. Politics wrapped in pleasantries.

And yet—you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

It was when you slipped onto the moonlit balcony that you saw him.

A figure stood at the edge of the terrace, cloaked in the night itself. He didn’t belong here, not among courtiers and kings, not among the foolish who believed Valtheris’ peace would last. He was leaner than you remembered, sharper. His black hair had grown longer, tousled from travel, framing his dark eyes—eyes that once ruled these halls.

You sucked in a breath. Prince Sunghoon.

The one who was supposed to be ruling Valtheris. The one you once loved and, who knows, maybe still do.

Not dead. Not gone.

Just - erased.

He turned at the sound, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The years had stripped him of the arrogant grace of a royal heir, replacing it with something quieter. Watchful. Dangerous. His smirk came slow, edged with something unreadable.

“Still sneaking away from your own celebrations?” His voice was softer than you remembered, but the teasing lilt was the same.

Like nothing had changed.

Like he hadn’t been exiled for treason.

Your pulse thundered. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.” He stepped closer, and you caught the scent of steel and rain, the weariness in his stance. “But I didn’t come for pleasantries.”

A pause. The world felt suddenly, impossibly small.

Then - his gaze locked onto yours, sharp and unyielding.

“War is coming,” he said, voice low. “And if you don’t listen, you’ll fall with the rest of them.”