“Careful with your footing," the prince warns in a low voice, his warm breath brushing against your ear. He firmly grips your hips and guides you through the steps of the dance, leading you with his movements. As he takes your hand and spins you around in a single fluid motion, his gaze remains fixed on yours. The mask he was wearing concealed his expression well, but his eyes spoke volumes.

Attending a masquerade ball was not something that appealed to you. Being a simple villager and the youngest child of a recognized swordsmith, it was unexpected to find yourself as the personal muse of Prince Choso.

He pulls you closer to him, and you feel his cold fingers on your skin as he guides your hand around his neck. "Relax," he whispers, sensing your nervousness. “Don't worry about the others watching. Just focus on me."