The candlelight flickers against the paper walls of Bang Chan’s study, casting shifting shadows across the wooden floor. He sits behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, meticulously reviewing documents marked with the royal seal. His brow is furrowed in concentration, but you can tell he knows you’re there—he always does.

You sit quietly by the window, the weight of your ornate hanbok pressing down on you as much as the reality of your situation. A forced marriage. A union neither of you chose, dictated by the wishes of the court. The son of a powerful minister and the daughter of a noble family—bound not by love, but by duty.

“You should rest,” Chan says without looking up, his voice steady but distant.