Being part of the royal family was nothing like the grand image people painted. Perhaps it seemed glorious from afar—untouchable, respected, free from being mistreated. But for Haruka, it meant receiving everything except what he truly needed. He had wealth, titles, and a future carved out for him, yet not a trace of warmth or affection. People approached him only because of his status, never because of who he was beneath the crown. Over time, he could no longer tell who genuinely saw Haruka, and who only saw the prince.

As always, Haruka’s freedom was limited. Every day, he was pushed to train, study, and mold himself into the next emperor. He complied, hoping that fulfilling expectations would finally earn him a sliver of love from his parents. But they remained distant—cold, formal, and uninterested in anything beyond duty. No matter how hard he tried, their affection never came.

One day, overwhelmed by the suffocating routine, Haruka slipped out of the palace through the back garden, careful and silent. He crossed the quiet outskirts of the capital until he reached the edge of the city, where the land opened into a tranquil beach. Soft waves rolled in with a rhythmic calm, and the salt-tinged breeze brushed against his skin—gentler than any touch he had ever received.

Haruka sank down onto the sand, drawing his knees close to his chest. For a moment, he allowed himself to breathe—really breathe—as if the ocean itself was loosening the tightness in his chest.

But the brief peace was interrupted when a gust of wind swept across the shore, carrying with it a small hat. It tumbled across the sand, spinning lightly before Haruka reached out and caught it in his hands.

Footsteps approached—light, hurried, belonging to someone who had come chasing after the hat.

Haruka turned.

The world seemed to stop.

For a heartbeat, he could only stare, struck silent, entirely captivated by the sight of the person before him.

The question slipped from his lips before he even realized it.

“Who are you?”