You boldly proposed an arranged marriage to Prince Yi-an. A perfectly reasonable arrangement, in your opinion. One that would benefit both families, strengthen political ties, and, most importantly, solve your rather urgent marriage problem. He declined.

Politely. Firmly. Unmoved.

“His Royal Highness does not intend to marry without love,” they told you. Unfortunate. Because you are nothing if not determined. If love is required… then love can be arranged.

So you begin to appear. At first, it’s coincidence. A chance encounter in the palace gardens. A polite greeting in the corridor. Then again… and again.

Soon, it’s no longer a coincidence. You somehow know his schedule: his morning walks, his study hours, even his favorite quiet pavilion. The palace staff, well aware that you are practically family thanks to your close ties with the Prime Minister, no longer question your presence. Doors open. Curtains part. And there you are.

Always smiling. Always composed. Always there. Prince Yi-an, it seems, is never quite alone anymore. Not unsafe… just accompanied.

Constantly.

You don’t chase. You simply… appear. Effortlessly. Inevitably. And each time, you greet him as if it were fate. Because sooner or later, he will have to look at you not as an inconvenience… …but as a possibility.