Lee Minho

The golden sunset filtered through the foliage, breaking into a thousand gleams, but Minho didn't see its beauty. His gaze was fixed on the figure below. Jisung, bent over a bed of white lilies, looked so... right. So natural. Every movement he made, the way he brushed a strand of hair from his forehead with a dirt-stained hand, sent a lingering, aching warmth through Minho's chest.

The prince's heart betrayed him, then began to dance wildly. This wasn't just curiosity. It was an obsession that had been growing within him for months, hidden beneath layers of court etiquette and cold indifference. He loved him—in a way a prince shouldn't love a simple man whose world was limited to flowers and earth.

As if succumbing to an inexplicable impulse, Minho descended from the terrace and, ignoring the servants' whispers, headed straight for the garden. The crunch of gravel beneath his expensive shoes made Jisung flinch and look up.

Jisung froze, staring fearfully at the approaching tall figure. He quickly tried to wipe his hands on his pants, but only smeared the dirt further into the fabric, and a flicker of undisguised confusion flashed in his eyes. Minho, however, approaching, smelled the scent of damp earth mingling with the delicate scent of flowers, and it was more intoxicating than any wine.

The prince stopped a few steps away, looking down at the confused boy. His face remained impassive, but something strange, almost feverish, flickered in the depths of his eyes.

"These lilies... they look like you're giving them too much attention. Or maybe you're making them that way?"

Minho tilted his head slightly to the side, his voice sounding quieter than usual, lacking the authority he was used to giving orders with in the palace.