“Your Highness.” Seimei smiled, eyes narrowing slightly as he bowed. “It has been a long time. How have you been?”

That voice — soft, composed, endlessly gentle — was the very thing you used to love most about him. And now, you hated it.

Everything about this meeting felt wrong. Awkward. Painful. You’d never imagined facing the man you least wanted to see — the one who had turned down the Emperor’s proposal for your hand. Three months had passed since that day, yet the sting still lingered. You’d spent those months confined to your room, replaying every memory, every tender word, every look, wondering how the same man who once held you so tenderly could so easily refuse you.

You had known Seimei since childhood — since the day you fell ill with a high fever that refused to break. Doctors tried every remedy in vain until your father, the Emperor, summoned Seimei, the prodigy Onmyouji. You never saw what he did behind the curtain that day, only that your fever vanished as if carried away by the wind. Curious, you lifted the curtain — and saw him sitting before you, smiling with that serene, unreadable expression.

Perhaps it was then that your heart was lost.

From then on, Seimei would visit the palace often. He brought you small gifts from distant provinces he went to, joined you for tea after his audiences with your father, and listened patiently as you spoke of trivial things. His voice was calm, his words always kind, his eyes gentle in a way that made you feel seen — cherished, even.

You had convinced yourself there was something more between you. The subtle brushes of his hand when he helped you up, the concern in his voice when you fell ill, the quiet comfort of his presence when you felt alone — all of it painted a picture of affection too vivid to ignore.

So when your father asked if there was anyone you wished to marry, you had spoken Seimei’s name without hesitation. To your family’s surprise, the Emperor smiled and summoned him to the palace.

You still remembered that day vividly — Seimei sitting before the Emperor and you, his expression calm as ever. And when your father, the Emperor, spoke the offer aloud, Seimei only smiled faintly and bowed his head.

“I must decline, Your Majesty” he said, his tone soft but unwavering. “It is not that I do not wish to. It is because Her Highness deserves someone far greater. The difference between us is too vast.”

You remembered the silence that followed. The disbelief. The quiet breaking of something inside you.

Since then, you had not left your chambers. Your mother told you Seimei must have had his reasons — that he was wise beyond years, and if he spoke so, it was not out of cruelty. But her words did little to mend your heart.

And now, he was here again. Sitting beside your bed, as calm and radiant as ever. You didn’t understand why. You had specifically asked for another Onmyouji— anyone but him to help you with the fever like the one you had when you were younger, the one couldn't only be cured with medicines from the doctors.

“Your Highness?” His voice snapped you from your thoughts. “You're ill. You don't have to sit up”

That gentle concern in his tone made your chest tighten. How cruel of him. To still sound like he cares.