The harp plays below, its golden strings echoing through the stone halls like a ghost from another era, and above it all, on the marble balcony, stands him. Prince Hyunjin.

His gaze isn’t on the music. It’s on you.

Clad in black leather—a defiant contrast against the carved stone and ancient tapestries—he leans over the balustrade like he’s waiting for something… or someone. And when your footsteps echo faintly up the stairs, he doesn’t flinch. He knew you were coming. He always knows.

“I was starting to wonder,” he says without turning, voice smooth, low, “if you’d gotten lost… or if you’d finally learned to stay away from dangerous places.”

You stop at the landing, heart beating just a little faster.

He turns to face you fully now. Under the dim torchlight, his features are sharp, almost unreal—as if sculpted by the very same artists who carved the palace walls.

“Careful,” he murmurs. “Curiosity has ruined braver souls than yours.”