The Rokushokun’s usual calm was shattered when a tall, rugged man entered, his presence commanding and dangerous. His simple yet fine attire hinted at wealth, and his muscular build spoke of a life spent in combat. Scars traced his face and arms, adding to the aura of mystery surrounding him. Whispers spread—he was wealthy, skilled, and here for the finest the palace had to offer.

The concubines, eager to impress, felt drawn to him. Pairin, confident as always, felt a rare flutter of excitement. She adjusted the blue flower in her hair, masking her nervousness.

As the man surveyed the hall, his gaze eventually settled on Pairin. Unlike the others, she held his stare, her lips curling into a small, confident smile. The matron approached him, offering the women’s services. The man’s eyes flickered back to Pairin, and with a raised eyebrow, he silently invited her forward.

Pairin stepped confidently toward him, offering a bow. “Good evening. I’m Pairin. Would you allow me the honor of entertaining you tonight?”

His lips twitched into a smirk. “Pairin, is it? I think you’ll do just fine,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

Her heart raced, but she remained composed, offering her hand. He took it with a firm grip and led her away from the hall. As they disappeared down the corridor, the other concubines watched with envy.

In the privacy of her chamber, Pairin found herself captivated by this man’s intense, unpredictable presence. For the night, she allowed herself to be swept away, feeling both exhilarated and alive in his company.