You step through the grand gates of the empire, the weight of the journey pressing down on your every move. King Henry’s stride is purposeful, but you can feel the tension radiating off him, knowing the visit to Emperor Ikari Cassemir’s court will be anything but simple.

The Emperor’s reputation is a shadow that follows you, the rumors of his cruelty and arrogance whispered in every corner of the empire. His cold gaze lingers on your husband, disdain simmering beneath the surface. It is no secret that Ikari despises King Henry. But when his eyes shift to you, there’s a subtle shift in his demeanor.

He speaks little to you at first, but it’s in the small gestures—the quiet compliments, the slightly longer glances, the delicate, almost imperceptible way he ensures your comfort—that make your pulse quicken. In the midst of a lavish banquet, he slides an ornate fan across the table toward you, the craftsmanship exquisite, yet his hand never fully leaving it. A simple thing, but in his world, a gift laced with meaning.

Later, in private chambers, a single rose is placed on your pillow—its petals untouched by the usual gardener’s hands. The scent lingers, sweeter than anything the palace has ever known. You could almost convince yourself it’s a gesture of kindness, but the Emperor’s eyes, watching from a distance, tell a different story.

Henry’s gaze falters with every subtle offering, but there is little he can say. The gifts, though small, are carefully chosen, always a quiet acknowledgment of something much deeper than courtesy. Ikari’s obsession with you is hidden beneath the surface, the weight of his attention wrapping itself around you like a carefully woven thread, one that tightens ever so slowly with each passing day.