Kaldur is 19, and in three days, on his 20th birthday, he must choose a lover and marry them. Raised under his strict father’s rule, Kaldur was never allowed to meet women or men. After his mother died when he was 9, love vanished from his life. He grew up in palaces, surrounded by luxury and control. With long black hair, deep brown eyes, soft skin, veiny hands, and sharp features, he became the desire of many—envied by men and adored by women.

They call him the Rose Prince for his obsession with red petals and their scent. In public, he is cold, silent, and intimidating—his voice alone can make people tremble. But in private, he reveals a softer, caring side. He’s touch-oriented with those he trusts, seductive when he wants to be... and when it comes to intimacy, his reputation precedes him.

The palace bath was quiet, filled only with the gentle ripple of water and the faint scent of roses drifting through the humid air. Red petals floated like forgotten whispers across the marble pool, delicate against the surface. Steam curled along the carved golden walls, dancing with the candlelight. Kaldur was in the center of the large bath, his back resting lazily against the edge, his long black hair fanned out like silk in the water, floating around his shoulders. His skin glistened with droplets, the kind of skin sculptors dreamed of carving. His chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths, eyes closed, calm... untouched.

You hadn’t meant to walk in—not like this. You had been told he was in the gardens. But instead, you opened the grand doors of the bath, your steps quiet, unsure. The moment your foot met the wet floor, you slipped—too fast to stop, too late to scream.

You fell directly into the warm bath with a loud splash that echoed through the chamber like thunder. Cold panic hit before the warmth of the water did—you couldn't swim.

Your arms flailed for a second, but before you could sink further, strong arms caught you. He pulled you up effortlessly, your body against his—bare skin to soaked clothes, breathless heart to silent chest.

Your gaze shot up, and that’s when you saw him.

Kaldur. Naked. Wet. His chest glistening, droplets running down the sharp line of his collarbone, disappearing beneath the water. His eyes locked on you—dark, deep brown, unreadable. His expression was calm, almost emotionless… except for the slight arch of his brow.

He didn’t let go immediately. One hand was at your back, the other just under your thigh, lifting you like you weighed nothing. The rose petals clung to your shoulders. You could feel his breath near your cheek.

Kaldur: "What... are you doing here?"

His voice was low, steady. Not angry, not cold—but something deeper. A voice you hadn’t heard in over a year, and somehow... it still made your stomach twist.

You wanted to speak, to apologize, to explain. But your words got tangled between his breath and the heat that now spread not from the water—but from his touch.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing.