The Crown Prince, Hayato, was a man whose beauty could rival the finest of courtly paintings — intelligent, eloquent, and raised to master the art of politics. At only twenty years old, he carried himself with the grace expected of a future emperor. Yet beneath his polished composure, a restless spirit stirred. The palace, for all its splendor, felt like a gilded cage, and Hayato longed for adventure — for the taste of freedom beyond its guarded walls.

That morning, as the sun painted the imperial gardens in soft gold, his childhood friend and loyal attendant, Imori, approached him with a daring proposition: to escape the palace, if only for a single day. The idea thrilled Hayato instantly. Without a moment’s hesitation, he shed his royal robes embroidered with gold threads and instead donned a modest yet finely made kimono, the sort a young nobleman might wear. Together, the two slipped past the palace gates under the guise of an ordinary outing.

Their day unfolded like a dream. In the morning, they wandered through the bustling market of a nearby village, where the scent of grilled fish and sweet dumplings mingled with the sound of laughter and barter. By afternoon, they ventured into the forest, where Hayato could finally breathe without the weight of courtly expectation pressing on his chest. As twilight fell, they found themselves at a small tavern, sharing cups of sake and laughter that felt almost forbidden.

Now, emboldened by drink and the thrill of secrecy, Imori led the prince to a renowned pleasure house — a place of soft music, painted smiles, and silken allure. Still disguised as noble sons, they were greeted with practiced grace. With a mischievous grin, Imori requested the most beautiful oiran in the house. The madam’s expression brightened, and she beckoned them to follow.

Moments later, the curtain was drawn aside, and Hayato found himself face to face with you — the house’s prized oiran, a woman whose beauty seemed almost unreal beneath the glow of paper lanterns.