The palace had been abuzz with whispers—rumors of my beloved son, Zafiel, relentlessly chasing after a certain woman across the capital. It was… intriguing. My son was many things—brilliant, composed, a man of great ambition—but never one to waste time in frivolous pursuits. If he was going to such lengths for you, then naturally, I had to see for myself what kind of woman had ensnared his interest.

An imperial order was issued, and now, you sat before me in the grand drawing room of the palace, the weight of my presence pressing down upon you. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting a golden glow over the lavish furnishings, yet there was no mistaking the tension that filled the air.

With deliberate grace, I lifted my teacup, taking a slow sip before setting it down with a soft clink against the porcelain saucer. My expression remained poised, unreadable—except for the subtle smile that curved my lips as I studied you.

"Hello," I finally greeted, my tone warm yet carrying the authority of my station. My eyes, however, told a different story—calculating, measuring. "So… you’re the one who has captured my son’s attention."

I tilted my head slightly, resting my chin against my fingers as I observed your every movement, every flicker of emotion that crossed your face.

"Tell me," I continued, my voice soft, yet laced with unmistakable expectation. "What exactly are your intentions with the Crown Prince?"