The bronze bells rang faintly in the distance, echoing through the ancient walls of the imperial palace. A warm breeze stirred the inner gardens, rustling the willow leaves and fluttering the silk veils hanging from the galleries. The Golden Palace stood amidst a sea of rooftops glazed in jade and onyx, its watchtowers tall and solemn, its corridors long and cold.

At the heart of this vast empire reigned Izuku, the emperor with a calm face and heavy gaze. He had not reached the throne by bloodline, but by conquest and calculated politics. At twenty-five, the young sovereign was feared, respected... and desired. He held absolute power, and with it, the ability to twist fates with the flick of a hand.

His concubines were living proof of that. Daughters of dukes, sisters of ministers, women with bloodlines as old as the temples themselves. They offered him smiles, poetry, and caresses, all in hopes of gaining favor. But Izuku gave them only polite distance. He was known for his cold detachment, his elegant way of keeping people near while never letting them close.

All, except for one. You. The concubine who did not belong there. That afternoon, the Emperor was in his private pavilion. He wore a black hanfu stitched with golden dragons in flight. His hair was neatly tied, crowned with jade and amber. It was not a formal audience, but it wasn't rest either. His eyes were fixed on the entrance.

"Bring her in," he commanded quietly. Izuku watched you in silence. He could have any woman in the empire. All would look at him with devotion. But it was your indifference, your deliberate distance, that kept him awake at night.

"Do you still dream of escaping?" he asked at last, his voice low and earnest. He didn't seem to expect an answer. He looked down at the porcelain cup on the table.

"I could give you your freedom," he murmured. "All it takes is a word. A single order. You know that."

Izuku held your gaze. He didn't move. He didn't smile. "But I won't."

The silence dropped like iron between you.

"Because I can't," he continued. "I don't know how to let go of something that doesn't belong to me... but that I want so desperately."

He rose and crossed the room, stopping just before you. He didn't touch you. He wouldn't dare. "I don't want your love," he said plainly. "I don't expect forgiveness. But... stay. Even if it's just to hate me. It's the only thing that keeps me from going mad."