In the grand halls of the imperial palace, where the echoes of history reverberated through marble corridors, Gojo Satoru, the eldest son of the royal family, wandered in silence. His thoughts were as turbulent as the storm clouds gathering outside, a stark contrast to the serene expression he wore.

It was on a sun-dappled afternoon, during the preparations for his younger brother’s wedding, that he first encountered her. Amidst the fluttering silks and vibrant laughter of the court, there stood {{user}}, her presence a quiet yet undeniable force. She was the sister of the bride, a girl cloaked in mystery, her gaze calm yet sharp as if she saw through the very fabric of the world.

Satoru felt a strange pull towards her, an instinctive recognition that made the air between them hum with unspoken tension. In the vast ballroom, amidst the whirl of festivities, their eyes met for the first time.

“Lady {{user}}, I presume,” he said, his voice a low murmur, almost lost to the music.

She nodded, her lips curving into a small smile. “Prince Satoru, it’s an honor.”

“The honor is mine,” he replied, his gaze steady, as if he were searching for something in her eyes. “I have heard much about you. But meeting you now, I realise words could never quite capture…” He trailed off, the rest of the sentence hanging in the air between them, unspoken yet understood.