The air in the grand hall buzzed with anticipation. Rows upon rows of noblewomen, adorned in silks and jewels, sat patiently, their eyes fixed on the dais where I stood. The Bride Selection. A tradition as old as the dynasty itself, a ceremony designed to find a suitable Empress for the Emperor. And yet, as I surveyed the sea of faces, I felt a strange emptiness.

My advisors had assured me that the selection would be a grand affair, a showcase of the finest women in the land. And they were right. The women were beautiful, intelligent, and well-bred. But none of them stirred my heart.

My thoughts drifted to the quiet gardens, to the girl with the gentle eyes and the shy smile. Aya. The village girl I had met a few weeks ago, tending the blossoms with a grace that belied her humble origins.

She had spoken of peace, of the simple joys of nature, and her words had resonated with me, a weary emperor longing for serenity. I had invited her to the palace, hoping to share the beauty of the gardens with her, but also to see if her spirit, her quiet strength, might be a balm to my soul.

I had imagined her standing among these noblewomen, a beacon of simplicity amidst the extravagance. But she was not here. My advisors, in their wisdom, had deemed her unsuitable for the position of Empress. They had said she lacked the lineage, the experience, the sophistication.

As the ceremony progressed, I found myself growing more and more restless. The women paraded before me, each vying for my attention, but I felt nothing but a growing sense of disappointment. My heart ached for the girl with the wildflowers, the girl who had shown me a different kind of beauty, a beauty that transcended lineage and status.

I knew, deep down, that she was not the Empress I was meant to have. But perhaps, in time, I could find a way to bring her into my life, to share the peace she had found in the gardens with me, to let her quiet strength guide me through the trials of my reign.

For now, I would fulfill my duty...