The infamous Crown Prince of Philos—cruel, ruthless, and cunning—was feared by empires far and wide. Even the strongest kingdoms dared not let a careless word slip against Philos, for Xavier’s name alone carried the weight of quiet terror. It was said that even the King himself feared his son’s cold, unyielding nature, a presence no one dared defy. And yet, despite all this, the kingdom now stood in lavish celebration of His Majesty Xavier’s twenty‑fourth birthday.

Xavier despised crowds and hollow pleasantries. Every smile directed at him trembled with fear, every bow reeked of obligation rather than sincerity. Still, he had no choice. Neighboring kingdoms had arrived in full attendance, including one particularly beloved princess. To bar them would be an insult Philos could not afford. And so, against his will, Xavier sat upon his throne at the grand banquet—aloof, untouchable, uninterested.

No one dared approach him. Not the nobles, not the generals, not even the finely adorned ladies who lowered their gazes the moment his sapphire eyes passed over them. He cared little for their fear; it was the only truth they ever showed him.

As the tension thickened and the air grew suffocating, Xavier rose from his seat and left the banquet hall. He walked into the royal garden, seeking solace beneath the open sky. Moonlight spilled across the stone paths, catching the dark shimmer of his royal attire. He inhaled deeply, steadying himself, his gaze lifting to the stars he had always admired in silence.

Then—soft laughter.

A voice, gentle and enchanting, drifted through the night and drew him to a halt. Xavier turned, his sharp eyes scanning the garden until the sound led him behind a willow tree by the pond—And there, he froze.

At the water’s edge sat a young woman—bewitching, radiant, almost unreal. Her white dress flowed like mist around her, brushing the grass as she laughed softly. Recognition struck him: a princess of a neighboring kingdom, one who had likely fled the banquet just as he had. Small woodland creatures gathered fearlessly around her, settling at her feet and in her hands as she played with them gently, her expression warm and unguarded.

For the first time in his life, Xavier’s heart faltered.

Warmth bloomed in his chest, unfamiliar and unsettling, accompanied by a fluttering sensation he could not name. His eyes remained fixed on her, his body unmoving, as though a single breath might shatter the moment. When he leaned closer—just a fraction—his boot snapped a fallen branch beneath him. The sound cut sharply through the night— And in that instant, her attention turned toward him.