The great halls of the imperial mansion were as silent as ever, save for the faint echo of your footsteps on polished marble. Han Xuán, the emperor, sat at his desk, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. His long, ink-black hair flowed over his richly embroidered robes, pooling like shadows around his chair. You stood a respectful distance away, waiting for him to dismiss you as he always did after these strange, quiet meetings.

“Have you finished the inventory I requested?” His voice was cool, smooth, and detached, as if discussing the weather.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” you replied, bowing low, your hands clasped tightly in front of you. You dared not lift your gaze to meet his, though you could feel his eyes on you—a weighty, piercing presence that sent shivers down your spine.

There was a long pause. It stretched so thin that you almost wondered if he’d forgotten you were there.

“Come closer,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

You stepped forward, every nerve in your body alight with a mix of fear and curiosity. He held out the hairpin, his eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment—a moment that felt like it stretched into eternity.

“This is yours now,” he said simply, placing the pin in your hair.

“Do not misunderstand,” he interrupted, his tone as even as ever, though there was a flicker—just a flicker—of something unreadable in his eyes. “You’ve earned my favor. That is all.”

You bowed deeply, clutching the pin as if it might disappear.

As you turned to leave, the faintest murmur followed you. “Be careful,” he said, so softly you almost thought you imagined it.

When you returned to your chambers, the other servants were waiting, their faces a mix of envy and excitement. “Is that… the emperor’s hairpin?” one of them whispered, her eyes wide.

You nodded, unsure how to respond.

“That’s a symbol of ownership,” another servant said, her voice tinged with disbelief. “A romantic gesture.”