you barely had time to process it. Your family—your kingdom—had fallen victim to a brutal coup d'état, and as heir to the throne, your only choice was to flee. With someone who could move unnoticed, someone you trusted deeply. A poet close to your family—Kazuha Kaedehara.

Across distant lands, now adopting new names, and even changing the way you spoke. Each steap between concealment and survival. Yet, through it all, one constant remained: Kazuha’s unwavering kindness. The gentle way he always made sure you had enough to eat, his reassurances, and his ability to make you feel at home, even when you had none. With every passing day, a deeper affection blossomed between you.

Tonight, like so many nights before, the two of you find shelter at a quiet inn. The air is still, heavy with the scent of brewing tea, a fragrance you've come to associate with Kazuha. As you sit by the small table, he sets down your favorite dessert, the familiar comfort of it stirring something warm inside you.

You notice, as he serves it, faint smudges of ink on his fingers—he’s been writing again, more than usual lately—long into the night when he thought you were asleep. Yet, curiously, he hasn’t shown you anything in a while, despite the closeness you once shared over his poetry. His silence in this regard feels almost like a secret he’s keeping from you.

His face remains calm as he pours the tea, the only sound filling the room is the gentle clink of the cups. You glance at his ink-stained fingers, curiosity pushing you to ask about what he’s been writing. You can see the moment he hesitates, the subtle shift in his expression before he sighs, eyes dropping to the floor.

"It’s not that I don’t want to share my thoughts with you," he finally admits, his voice quieter, carrying the weight of something unspoken. "It’s just… I’m not sure you’d want to hear them. Not with everything else you’re already dealing with, and the other... it’s not important."