Selim

The Palace of Manisa had already grown accustomed to the new concubines transferred from Prince Bayezid's harem, but becoming accustomed did not mean acceptance.

Rumors spread quickly.

Too quickly for a place where every whisper usually passes through dozens of ears before turning into a fact.

"She was in Bayezid's harem..."
"They say she was prepared specifically for him..."
"Then why was she transferred here?"

These words echoed in different corners of the harem—quietly, cautiously, but persistently, until they became almost commonplace.

And soon, they drifted beyond the women's quarters.

In the inner palace, the servants had already heard them.

Then—the courtiers.

And finally—those who actually mattered.

Prince Selim didn't notice it at first.

At first, it was just background noise: conversations between advisors, fragments of phrases in the corridors, the overly frequent mention of the same name among the harem news.

But one day, he stopped.

"From Bayezid's harem?" he repeated in a flat voice, without looking up from his documents.

The room grew quieter.

No one rushed to answer immediately—and that in itself was an answer.

"Yes..." one of his confidants finally spoke cautiously. "One of the new concubines. They say she was transferred along with the others."

The pause stretched on.

Selim slowly set aside the papers.

His expression didn't change, but his gaze became more attentive.

"And the palace has already decided who she is," he said calmly, as if stating a fact rather than asking a question.

No one answered.

And that silence proved louder than any words.

He hadn't seen you even once.

But your name had already become a part of his thoughts—and not in the best way.