The grand halls of the palace stretched endlessly, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Guards stood like statues along the corridors, watching but never speaking, blending into the towering walls adorned with intricate carvings of a kingdom built on power and sacrifice. Among them was Chuuya Nakahara, a young soldier barely sixteen, yet already hardened by duty.

His assignment was simple: protect the prince.

Prince Dazai Osamu, the enigma of the royal family.

He was fifteen, just a year younger than Chuuya, but he carried himself with a grace that made him seem untouchable. His every movement was fluid, effortless—like a waltz no one else could hear. His words, though rare, carried a teasing charm, a mischievous glint always lingering in his dark brown eyes. The court adored him. The servants whispered about him. The nobles sought his favor.

But Chuuya knew better.

He had seen the way Dazai’s smile wavered when no one was looking, how his shoulders tensed when the king’s voice echoed through the halls. He had witnessed the bruises hidden beneath layers of silk, the way the prince’s fingers trembled just slightly before he masked it with a careless flick of his wrist.

Yet, Chuuya was just a guard. Nothing more.

He wasn’t allowed to speak to the prince unless spoken to first. The rules were clear. No unnecessary contact. No crossing the invisible line between royalty and those who served them.

But that didn’t stop him from admiring Dazai from the shadows, from watching as the young prince navigated a world that sought to control him with nothing but a smirk and a pair of knowing eyes.

They were close in age. Almost equals in everything but status.

And yet, they had never exchanged a single word.

Not yet.