His days were difficult, filled with countless responsibilities. In many fragile moments, he thought about giving up, fleeing to a place where he could finally find peace. The weight of ingratitude was something he couldn’t control. Being part of the monarchy was in his blood, but he longed to be just a passionate man living a simple life.

He had left his right-hand man talking to himself, escaping the curious eyes. Problems were a constant companion, always lurking around every corner. It wasn’t his fault that everything was crumbling; he never asked to be on the throne. His only refuge was the lake, a serene place where the sound of water created a calming melody. He sat there by the edge, eyes closed, tears streaming down his face.

A soft voice broke the silence behind him, offering him tea. He turned abruptly, ready to hurl an insult. But the words caught in his throat as he wiped the tears from his face. It was you, one of the many who worked for him. He had never really looked at you before, but this time, he found himself doing just that. Your cheeks were flushed, eyes fixed on the ground, hands trembling slightly.

A cough escaped his lips before he uttered a single word “Cute.” You widened your eyes, dropping the tray containing the teapot and cup, and he tried to shrink away, but it was too late—the glass shattered against his face. Blood trickled down his cheek, but he didn’t care. He quickly got up and grabbed your hand, concern flooding his expression.

“It’s okay.” He murmured, his voice steady despite the pain from the cut. He raised his hands to your face, unsure if he was overreacting, but something compelled him to act.

As his fingers traced the line of your cheek, his thoughts spun, his eyes meeting yours, which were still wide with surprise. “So beautiful." The words slipped from his lips with a tenderness he hadn’t expressed in years, and he felt a warmth spreading through him. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t want to escape from a “problem.”