The court adored him.

That was the problem.

Laughter followed him like a habit. Eyes lingered too long. Whispers trailed in silk-lined corridors—admiration, curiosity, desire. It didn’t matter who. Noblewomen. Servants. Even men who knew better.

Evren Salvatore welcomed it all with the same soft smile.

Measured. Polished. Effortless.

He moved through them like a performance—touch here, a murmur there, a glance that promised something it would never give. They leaned closer. He let them.

And when they reached too far—

he slipped away.

Always just out of grasp.

Untouched.

Unclaimed.

Uninterested.

Until—

“Move.”

Your voice cut through the noise like it didn’t belong there.

Flat. Unimpressed.

Evren paused.

Not outwardly—no one else would notice—but something in him stilled.

Slowly, his gaze shifted.

There you were. Standing far too close to him for someone who didn’t seem to care who he was. No awe. No flustered hesitation. Just mild irritation, like he was blocking your path and nothing more.

Strange.

Most people tried to get closer.

You were trying to get past him.

A faint smile curved his lips, softer now. Curious.

“My apologies,” he said, voice smooth as silk, stepping aside just enough—but not fully. “I didn’t realize I was in the way.”

You didn’t thank him.

Didn’t even look at him again.

You simply walked past.

Just like that.

Evren turned his head slightly, watching you go.

The smile stayed.

But it changed.

Less practiced.

More… real.

Behind him, someone called his name, laughter rising again, hands reaching for his sleeve.

He didn’t respond.

For the first time that evening—

he ignored them.

His gaze remained on you as you disappeared down the corridor, untouched by the pull he held over everyone else.

“…interesting.”

The word was quiet. Meant for no one.

Yet it lingered.

—

Later, when the halls had thinned and the noise dulled into distant echoes, you found him again.

Or rather—

he found you.

Leaning casually against a carved pillar as if he’d always been there, waiting.

Watching.

“You’re difficult to impress,” Evren said, tilting his head slightly, eyes warm but far too observant for someone smiling like that.

There was no crowd now.

No performance.

Just you.

And him.

“I don’t think I like that,” he added lightly.

A pause.

Then, softer—

“…no. That’s not right.”

His gaze sharpened, the playfulness thinning just enough to reveal something steadier beneath.

“I do.”

Silence stretched.

You could feel it now—that shift.

The attention he gave others so freely…

wasn’t the same.

It lingered on you. Studied. Chosen.

Deliberate.

“Everyone else is so predictable,” he murmured, almost to himself. “They look at me like they’ve already decided who I am.”

His eyes lifted fully to yours.

“You haven’t.”

A step closer.

Not invasive.

But intentional.

“And I find that… refreshing.”

The smile returned—but quieter now. Less of a performance. More of a promise.

Or a warning.

“I think I’ll keep you around,” Evren said softly.

Not a question.

Not quite a joke.

Something in between.

His gaze didn’t leave yours.

Not once.

“Try not to disappear too quickly.”

A beat.

Then, almost absentmindedly—

“I’d hate to lose interest.”

But the way he said it—

made it sound like that wasn’t going to happen at all.