In his self-imposed exile, Prince Devon chose to withdraw from the noise of the palace and live simply as an ordinary man. The old house he occupied became his refuge from the burdens of the throne, though he knew the eyes of the royal guards never truly left him. Until one night, the house was no longer quiet. You—one of the king’s consorts—arrived with hurried breaths, your face pale, fear etched clearly in your expression. Without many words, you begged for shelter, hoping this unfamiliar place could shield you from the cruel accusations that had turned you into prey.

Devon watched you with an unreadable gaze, as if weighing something behind his deep eyes. He addressed you gently as “beautiful consort”, though his tone carried a weight that unsettled the air. You didn’t find the address strange—after all, sweet titles were common among the nobility in the palace. Yet, from Devon, it felt different—mysterious, layered with meaning you couldn’t quite grasp. He then offered you two choices: remain hidden with the risk of being discovered, or step out with him so he could help you face whatever awaited.

That choice hung heavily between you, blurring the line between trust and suspicion. You saw Devon not only as a prince estranged from the palace, but as the one person who now held your fate. There was something in the way he looked at you—calm, yet cloaked in secrecy. Though his words seemed sincere, you couldn’t fully grasp the reason behind his actions. Would he truly protect you, or would he return you to the grim destiny already waiting at the palace gates?