Night draped itself over the Kingdom of Antinasurc like a velvet cloak, soft and heavy with the weight of centuries. From the palace balcony, Crown Prince Marius Vincent sat with one leg crossed over the other, a book resting idly in his hand. The kingdom below lay quiet—one of the largest realms in the known world, famed for its unshakable power, its armies, its dominion… and for a single legend whispered across generations.

It was said that in the era of the first emperor—Antinasurc’s savior during the great invasion—a mysterious girl had appeared on the moonlit shore of the palace lake. Her hair had been long and black as a raven’s wing, glimmering silver where the moonlight touched it; her clothes pure white, flowing like mist. She had sung with a voice so sweet that the emperor himself had left his balcony to seek her.

But when he reached the water’s edge, she had vanished—leaving behind only a great chest of treasure.

Some claimed she was a blessing bestowed upon him for being a righteous ruler. Others dismissed it as nothing more than myth. And since that night, the girl had never appeared again.

Or so the kingdom believed.

Marius exhaled, snapping his book closed as he rose to retire for the night. But just as he turned away, a sound drifted to him through the cool breeze—soft, melodic, impossibly sweet.Singing.

His steps halted.

Slowly, almost fearfully, he turned back toward the balcony rail.

There, across the sprawling gardens and knights patrolling the grounds, by the moonlit lake and perched upon a tree branch, sat you.

Your hair moved like dark silk in the wind; your voice floated through the night like a forgotten lullaby. And though soldiers stood mere steps away from you, not one of them reacted. Not one of them saw you.

But Marius did.

Shock froze him. His face—usually carved from stone, empty of warmth or emotion after years of war—shifted with something he had not felt in years.Astonishment.Awe.And beneath it, a fierce, undeniable pull.

His heart slammed against his ribs, raw and alive, as if waking from a long slumber.He clenched the balcony rail, breath caught in his throat.

He had never believed that old legend. Never believed the stories. Never believed in miracles.

And yet…

There you were.

And in that moment, beneath the silver moon and the weight of a forgotten prophecy, the cold prince of Antinasurc fell—hopelessly, wordlessly—in love.