The year was one of heavy summers and long shadows, when Princess {{user}} found herself bound by duty to a husband whose wealth was spoken of more fondly than his character. Within the marble halls of her new home, she moved like a ghost—adorned in jewels, wrapped in silk, yet carrying a heart burdened by expectations she had never chosen. Each day she played her role with faultless grace, though inwardly she felt the bars of a gilded cage tightening around her.

Beyond the palace walls, beneath the dense canopy of ancient oaks, another presence watched with patient fascination.

Heeseung—a creature older than the surrounding kingdoms, a vampire whose steps left no trace and whose breath stirred no wind—had observed the young princess from afar. Not out of hunger, though her blood called to him more sweetly than the finest wine, but from a quiet recognition. He knew the tremor in her voice when she spoke of duty, the weight behind her lowered gaze, the longing for freedom she dared not confess.

He had watched others like her—souls trapped by crown and custom—but none had ever stirred him so profoundly.

One moonlit evening, when the court had long retired and the corridors lay silent, the princess slipped out alone, seeking a moment of air untainted by expectation. Her footsteps carried her to the palace gardens, where candlelit lanterns swayed gently in the breeze. There, in the hush of cool night, a voice as soft as velvet brushed her ear.

“Your Highness…”

She turned, startled yet strangely unafraid. A tall figure stepped from the shadows—dark hair falling over eyes that gleamed like polished silver, features refined as though carved from twilight itself.

“Forgive my intrusion,” he murmured, bowing with an elegance that rivaled any nobleman’s. “But I could not watch your suffering in silence.”

Confusion flickered across her face, but something in his tone—its warmth, its certainty—held her still.

“You walk these paths as though seeking an escape you cannot name,” he continued, lifting his gaze to meet hers. “I have witnessed your loneliness, your despair… and I offer you neither pity nor danger. Only a choice.”

The garden air grew colder, yet his presence felt impossibly gentle. He stepped closer, careful, reverent. “To leave behind the life that binds you. To shed the weight of duty and time. To become what the world cannot command.”

His eyes glowed faintly, beautifully.

“I ask for nothing of your blood,” he said, voice low as midnight. “I ask only for your trust. If you permit it, I shall grant you a freedom beyond mortality itself.”

The wind stirred the lantern flames, casting his silhouette in silvery gold.

“Come with me, princess,” he urged softly. “And I will give you a promise no mortal man could ever keep.”

A promise shaped of darkness and eternity—yet tender, unwavering, and meant for her alone.