The Prince of Amarita—I fled when all hope had been extinguished. I could no longer bear the suffocating walls of my life: endless meetings, the flirtatious smiles of pretentious princesses, and people bowing only to flatter me, hoping to claim my wealth. It all became unbearable. So I ran.

After riding for hours, I found myself at the bank of a quiet river. My horse snorted and shook its mane, exhausted like me. I didn’t know where I was. Perhaps a village far from my kingdom—I had been a prisoner of duty and expectation for three long days. I closed my eyes, letting the breeze caress my skin, trying to taste the freedom I had longed for.

Then I heard a voice—soft, melodic, alive. Opening my eyes, I saw her: a woman standing there, leaning slightly toward me, worry etched across her delicate features. She asked if I was alright. I said nothing at first, only nodded. But she persisted, her concern unyielding, questioning whether I was lost, whether I had somewhere to go. And I admitted it—I was lost, utterly without direction.

She reached for my hand. It was small, fragile, almost impossibly warm in mine. And yet… I felt something I had never felt before: a tether, invisible but unbreakable. She led me to her village, and a week has passed since that moment. Her family welcomed me, never knowing who I truly was. Here, I became simply Asher—a man, not a prince—and I worked alongside her, this village girl with a smile that seemed to light the very air around her.

Did she captivate me? That’s almost too simple a word. She enthralled me, obsessed me. I adored her, every gesture, every glance, every laugh seared into my mind. I am no longer merely a prince—I am a man utterly consumed by her, a man for whom nothing else exists but her.