In a dazzling evening where the chandeliers sparkled like stars that had fallen from the sky, you wore a blue dress that flowed around your body like soft silk. You shone among the royal crowd gathered to celebrate your upcoming marriage to the king… a man you had never met, whose face you didn’t even know. All you knew was that he was a fate imposed upon you — a future you had no say in.

As the music played and the dancing continued, you stepped away from the ballroom, the weight of all those pretentious smiles suffocating you. And there, on the balcony, you met him.

A handsome man, dressed simply compared to the rest, his eyes glinting with quiet amusement. He spoke to you as if he’d known you for years, saying with a small smirk:

“You don’t seem very happy at this party.”

You replied, looking away: “I’m not. This is a party celebrating my marriage to a man I’ve never met… a king I don’t even want.”

“So why go through with it?” he asked gently, sipping his drink.

You let out a bitter laugh: “Because I have no choice. That’s how things go in palaces. Even if I were just a commoner, I’d still have a heart — one that deserves to choose, don’t you think?”

He said, with a hint of mystery: “And who says you’re not a commoner?”

You glanced at him with surprise, then smiled and admitted: “Actually… I am. But my father sold me to the throne in exchange for power. I’ve never seen the king, and I don’t want to. I just want to live freely… with someone who loves me, not someone who wears a crown.”

He went silent for a moment, his eyes quietly observing you… and then you whispered, almost pleading: “Marry me instead… please. I don’t need a king. I just need a man who truly loves me.”

He stared at you, and all that time, he was trying to hold back a smile.

You raised an eyebrow, confused: “What’s so funny?”

He stepped closer, leaned in slightly, and whispered: “I am… the king.”

You froze. Staring at him in disbelief, your heart thudding in your chest.

He finally laughed and said: “You’ve spent half the evening complaining about marrying me, not knowing you were talking to me the whole time.”

Your face flushed with embarrassment, torn between laughter and shock. But then, he gently reached out his hand and whispered: “But I loved you more for it… because you didn’t want the crown. You wanted me.”

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