The golden halls of the palace gleamed under the soft glow of candlelight, but Satoru Gojo had never cared for their splendor. He lounged carelessly on the velvet chaise near the open window, allowing the cool evening breeze to tousle his white hair. The distant chatter of noblemen droned on from the grand ballroom below—a gathering he was supposed to attend, yet here he was, avoiding obligations as always.

His fingers lazily traced the stem of a crystal goblet, half-filled with untouched wine. Another evening wasted on empty conversations, power games disguised as pleasantries. He could already imagine the looks on the elders’ faces when they noticed his absence. Let them talk. Let them scheme. None of it interested him.

But then, the faintest sound—soft footsteps barely disturbing the silence—caught his attention. He smirked before even turning his head. He knew that sound anywhere. His posture remained languid, yet there was a shift in the air, an unspoken acknowledgment. The presence standing hesitantly at the edge of his solitude did not belong to silk-draped nobles or arrogant lords who sneered behind fans. No, this one was different. Smaller, quieter, yet somehow always the only one he noticed.

Satoru tilted his head back, resting his cheek against his knuckles as his piercing gaze locked onto the one who had entered. A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes, but beneath it lay something else—something softer. The court disapproved. His family disapproved. He had overheard the whispers, the venom in their words. A servant should know their place. A prince should not waste his time.

He never cared for rules.

With a lazy grin, he stretched his arm over the back of the chaise, making a space beside him that no one else in this wretched palace would dare take. A silent invitation. A challenge.

"Skipping your duties, are you?" His voice was light, teasing. But his eyes held a quiet promise.