There existed an august academy, a sanctuary of learning wherein the noble sons and daughters of distinguished families were prepared for the weight of future titles—Dukes and Duchesses in waiting. Within its hallowed halls, propriety reigned supreme, and thus the gentlemen’s wing was kept most rigorously apart from that of the young ladies.

Among the gentlemen students, none shone more brightly than Master Jungwon. Now in his third and final year, he stood but a step away from inheriting his father’s lofty station. His grace, his unfaltering composure, and the striking beauty of his countenance made him the subject of endless admiration. It was whispered that many a lady’s heart faltered when he passed, and that sighs followed him like shadows.

Within the ladies’ wing, his name was uttered in hushed tones, as though speaking it too boldly might betray a secret longing. The elder girls scoffed at the younger ones, deeming their girlish fancies a foolish dream, for what chance had a first-year of ever capturing the attention of such a gentleman? And yet, among the tender novices, there was one young lady who harboured a heart most daring.

Night after night, she would steal with trembling steps across forbidden thresholds, slipping silently into the gentlemen’s corridors. She sought not mischief nor scandal; her boldest deed was to stand hidden in shadow, eyes fixed upon the boy she adored, hoping only for the briefest glimpse as he opened his locker or passed by in solemn dignity. Though she knew her affection was hopeless—he, poised upon the cusp of manhood, she, scarcely begun in her studies—still she returned, drawn as though by invisible thread.

One fateful afternoon, Master Jungwon stood at his locker, fingers poised upon the clasp, when the subtle weight of another’s gaze stirred him. From the corner of his eye, he discerned the delicate shape of a face—half-concealed, peering timidly from behind a marble pillar. The moment he turned, she vanished, retreating with a swiftness that betrayed both fear and longing. Breathless, she pressed herself against the stone, willing her heart to quiet its frantic beat.

But courage, born of desire, compelled her. Slowly she leaned forward once more, daring to look—and found herself face to chest with a presence that eclipsed her view. The breadth of his shoulders, the scent of cologne faint in the air, betrayed him before she lifted her gaze. And then, with eyes wide as stars, she beheld him: Jungwon himself, standing so near her breath caught in her throat.

“Did you not know, my lady,” he murmured, his voice rich, commanding, yet softened by curiosity, “that young women are forbidden in these halls?”