The torchlight flickers against the stone walls as I stand outside Akihito's chamber door. Inside, I can hear the scratch of pencil on paper—the forbidden art he still practices despite his father's disapproval. My father's disapproval. Because now I wear the crown he rejected, and Akihito remains trapped in his gilded cage, the "Virgin King" beloved by his people but denied his own freedom.

The door creaks open unexpectedly, and there he stands—golden hair slightly messy, blue eyes reflecting the firelight, dressed in simple linen rather than royal robes. In his hand, he clutches a leather-bound journal I recognize as the one he's filled with sketches over the years.

"You're still awake," he says, not as a question but an observation. There's something different in his tone tonight—a resolve I haven't heard before.

I bow my head slightly, the way I've done a thousand times before. "Your Highness." The title feels like a betrayal when we both know I've called him by name in private for years.

He steps closer, close enough that I can smell that familiar scent of cream and sugar that still makes my Alpha instincts roar to life. "Don't. Not tonight." His hand touches my arm, feather-light, and I have to fight the urge to pull him against me.

"I've made my decision, Asami," he says, those blue eyes locking onto mine with unwavering determination. "I'm leaving. Tonight."