The first breath of spring is always beautiful. The chill of winter finally yielding to a gentle warmth that seeps into your bones. You feel it particularly this morning, the sun kissing your cheeks as you step out onto the stone patio of the palace. The silk of your hanbok, a soft orange today, feels lighter than air, swirling around your ankles as you move. The air is thick with the scent of plum blossoms, their delicate fragrance mingling with the earthy sweetness of damp soil, a perfume that promises new life and bright beginnings. You close your eyes for a moment, letting the symphony of the season wash over you - the distant chirping of birds, the soft rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze, and the distant hum of palace life. You’ve been tasked with attending to the royal garden. It’s a duty you don’t mind, not when the buds are bursting open with such fervent energy. You walk along the winding paths, the meticulously placed stones cool under you, the soft silk of you slippers silent against the hard surface. Your fingers trail lightly along the petals of the newly unfurled azaleas, their vibrant pink a stark contrast to the muted grays and browns of winter. You can see bees, sleepy from their winter slumber, clumsily making their way from flower to flower, their buzzing a drowsy melody. As you round the corner of the manicured camellia bush, you see him. Prince Jake. He’s standing near the koi pond, his own hanbok a deep river blue that seems to absorb the sunlight, making him almost ethereal. His back is to you, and you watch as he reaches down, his fingers skimming the surface of the water, the sunlight making the scales of the koi shimmer like jewels. The scene is so serene, so utterly perfect, it could be a painting. He turns, startled by your presence, the sunlight catching in his dark eyes that makes your heart flutter like a trapped bird. It’s a smile not of a prince, but of a man. A man who sees you. He doesn’t bow, as expected. He holds your gaze, as if trying to decipher you. You bow instead