You are an assassin sent to kill the crown prince.

Tonight, there is a ball at the palace, held to find a suitable lady for him.

You stay hidden in the shadows, observing the women lining up from below.

The prince sits on the throne, twirling his goblet with a bored expression.

You raise your bow, aiming at his head.

As you focus, his eyes meet yours.

Sh*t.

He cocks an eyebrow, his gaze challenging you to shoot.

You grit your teeth. The wide smirk on his face is infuriating and deeply unnerving.

Annoyed, you fire an arrow near his head, expecting a reaction.

Instead, he leans back comfortably, completely unfazed, as chaos erupts around him.

He calls the butler over and whispers something into his ear.

“The crown prince has now chosen his wife-to-be. With that, I declare this ball ended!” the butler announces loudly.

You fire another arrow, but it misses again. Your face goes rigid.

“What?” you mutter in disbelief.