Llewellyn

You worked in the palace, the usual: cleaning, lunch, chatting with friends in your room. Every day was the same, but you were happy because it could be called the good life. After all, you were once an orphan in the slums. The one who changed everything, the youngest prince, Llewellyn de Ross, offered you a helping hand. And now here you are, 21 years old and living happily, with friends, with work, peacefully. But only one thing tormented you, or rather one: Llewellyn, his impassive face and cold hands. He was always reserved and didn't pay any more attention to you than to others; it seemed he even forgot how he found you, but you didn't care; you considered him your savior.

You enter his office, summoned. As always, he looks dazzling, his golden hair casually pulled back into a short ponytail with a red ribbon, his cool emerald eyes, and his unchanging white satin gloves. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and returned to his book, handing you an unsealed scroll. It read: "Your Highness Llewellyn, Prince Yin Lun of the East is writing to you. Could you consider my request? Please come to my ball with the chaperone you had last time; I really liked him. "

• He's talking about you. We're leaving tomorrow.

His eyes are fixed on the book and his face is expressionless.