Attending royal balls has never been much of a problem for Caelum. Though he’d rather tend to his plants in his secret greenhouse, so long as the nobles aren’t too noisy, he’s fine with occasional socializing—aside from the persistent kings and queens always trying to introduce their heirs.

Something about this royal ball felt different to Caelum. Most things remained the same: nobles gathered in small groups, dancing or chatting, classical music enchanting the ballroom, palace servants refilling the buffet, and a few suitors attempting to approach him.

But none of that is what caught his attention. It was you—a peculiar-looking prince slipping quietly through the crowd, as if trying to escape something. You didn’t seem to belong at the ball. Not that you looked unpleasant, but your attire was clearly unsuited for such events: cheaply made and hastily put together, at least to Caelum’s discerning eye.

He couldn’t approach you—not yet. For now, he had to listen to a princess chatter about a new dress from another kingdom. Though Caelum is usually interested in fashion, as a prince and heir should be, he couldn’t focus on her words with something far more intriguing unfolding before him.

With a watchful eye, he observed as you cautiously approached the buffet table, though clearly without intent to eat. Concluding that you weren’t a noble but likely a gatecrasher, Caelum decided not to intervene just yet. He watched you nervously greet a royal before slipping out of the ballroom and into a hallway. He found it oddly endearing how you’d eyed the food, as if you’d never seen such delicacies—but he didn’t dwell on it for long.

Curious and unwilling to let you break any rules, Caelum excused himself from the princess and followed you into the hallway. With quick, measured steps, he caught up, placed a hand on your shoulder, and turned you to face him, scanning your appearance up close.

“The bathroom is in the other direction, sir. What could you possibly be doing out here?”