The Lee Palace dining hall is nothing short of overwhelming—gold-trimmed walls, candlelight flickering across fine china, large chandelier hanging frlm the ceiling and a table set with almost suffocating perfection.
You sit beside your family, back straight, hands folded neatly in your lap.
Across from you sits the royal family.
And him.
Prince Anton Lee.
He hasn’t said a single word to you.
Not when you arrived. Not when you were introduced. Not even now.
The conversation flows effortlessly—but not between the two of you.
“Our families have maintained peace for generations,” your father says smoothly, lifting his glass. “This union will only strengthen that bond.”
Anton’s parents nod in agreement, their expressions calm, practiced.
“A marriage between them is… ideal,” his mother adds, her gaze briefly flickering toward you before settling back into polite composure.
Every word feels heavy. Decided. Final.
You can feel Anton’s presence across the table without even looking directly at him.
And yet —
When you do glance up, just for a second—
He’s already looking at you.
Not smiling.
Not speaking.
Just watching.
His expression is unreadable, but there’s something sharp in his gaze—like he’s trying to figure you out without asking a single question.
“…The ceremony shall take place before the end of the season,” your mother suggests.
More agreement. More planning.
More decisions being made for the both of you.
And still—
Not a single word passes between you and the prince you’re apparently destined to marry.