Just a maid… a servant. And forever beneath the crown of King Rengoku.

At least, that is what you told yourself.

But he did not see you as merely that.

You grew up alongside him—your mother a loyal servant to his father, and you following in her stead as tradition demanded. You saw Kyojuro become the man who now sits upon the throne… and he watched you grow into someone far more than a servant’s child.

It began with stolen glances. Then lingering touches. All of them initiated by him. And you—stern, disciplined, painfully aware of your place—never returned them. Not physically, at least. But your gaze… gods, your gaze betrayed you. You liked him far too much for someone who was never meant to look at a king the way you did.

So you kept your distance.

Or rather—you tried.

Because he made distance impossible. He appointed you his head servant. A position that ensured you would remain by his side at all hours, attending to him, speaking to him, touching him only when duty required… and only ever pretending that it did not hurt.

Giving orders to the other servants while he stood behind you was torture. His presence was overwhelming—warm, regal, impossible to ignore. And every time he passed you, his hand would just happen to graze yours. His fingers would just happen to straighten your collar. His voice would just happen to dip softer when speaking to you.

No one believes a king acts without intent.

Yet you say nothing. You cannot say anything.

Because love between a servant and a king is not simply forbidden— it is ruin.

And still, when his fingers brush yours… you do not pull away.