READING GUIDANCE
" This is a direct sentence in the present time."
" This is a direct sentence in the past time."
' This is a character's inner thought in the present time.'
' This is a character's inner thought in the past time.'
[ This is a direct sentence in sign language in the present time.]
[ This is a direct sentence in sign language in the past time.]
HAPPY READING!
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Her office in the palace was on the first floor, near Samala Garden. The garden could be visited casually by anyone with palace access. It was quite spacious, filled with beautiful vines and unique flowers that grew from the cracks of the rocky stones. The natural arrangement added to its charm. There weren't many trees, and most of the plants were small flowers hardy enough to survive the cold temperatures. They could also withstand the strong gusts caused by dragons flapping their wings overhead—or sometimes landing near the garden.
"Ms. Irisha," someone suddenly said, touching her shoulder, startling her. It was Rosan's friend, Edward, looking at her with concern. "I'm sorry—did I surprise you?" he signed fluently.
She shook her head. [What is it?]
He smiled gently, in a way that many ladies would find irresistible, his appearance naturally appealing. "I was looking for you in your office, but couldn't find you. People said you were still in a meeting. I was going to wait in front of the room."
She nodded, still adjusting to his sudden change in demeanor, and smiled. [Is this about the previous task?]
He nodded. "Yes. I've completed it, and I need consultation for further execution."
[Then, let's talk in my office.] She said, walking ahead after he gestured for her to go first—a gentlemanly gesture she never imagined from him, especially toward someone like her.
On the day he had asked her to read the text during that thrilling incident, she had met him leaving the Imperial Infirmary. He had stood at the entrance holding a paper. At first, she thought it was something unrelated to her, but when he looked at her, his eyes widened, and he approached slowly.
"...What do you want?" But Haya was different when facing him. He pulled Irisha behind him, shielding her from the man. She, of course, couldn't see or understand their conversation, but then Haya handed her a paper. She looked at him, and Haya said, "This man wants you to read this. After that, he said he would leave."
Irisha, confused, looked at the letter. She read it carefully, then glanced up at him. His eyes were sad, despite his usual arrogance and loudness.
"I... I only want to apologize," he said. "I sincerely want to apologize for all the rudeness I've shown you. I know it may be hard for you to accept... and I will not try to force you."
It was the first time anyone had asked her for forgiveness. That day, she was unsure how to react. In the first place, she had never truly believed he had wronged her. [I don't see why I should forgive you. There's nothing to apologize for—you are just believing what you believe.] she thought.
The man looked sullen but then faintly smiled. "...You may be right, but I wanted to express my sincere apology. I hope you accept it," he said. "I will excuse myself, Ms. Irisha... Please forgive me for creating this uncomfortable situation." After that, he excused himself and was never heard from again, even after she had been placed in the new division of the Empire. Even so, she knew him well enough to believe that, like many others who came to her loudly and aggressively, he was simply principled in his own way.
"...He is stubborn, with rigid principles and sometimes reckless, but the reason I still stick around with him is that he's honest—at least with me. It might be confusing to say that about someone like him, but... well, I just know when he's being honest with himself," Rosan explained when she asked about the matter. Then she smiled weakly. "He's also the kind of person who would punch me in the face if I did something stupid... so, in the end, it's up to you whether you forgive him or not."
Hearing this, Irisha thought, [I don't know. I don't feel like I'm in the position to forgive him.] She realized that, despite the awkward beginning, professionalism sometimes required brushing aside personal feelings to do what was right for the company. That was why she had invited him under the Imperial name.
When he arrived, he sat in the prepared room in her office. The moment he looked at her, he stood. The conversation began with an awkward tension. Haya still looked angry, but Irisha focused on being professional, clearly stating her purpose. It took her some time to explain, but the man remained composed, paying close attention.
"...I will do this," he said.
Then she smiled. [Is there anything you're still confused about?]
He looked at her for a long moment before speaking. "I don't understand why you asked me to do this," he said.
From Haya's perspective, Irisha had a sense of what he meant. [To put it simply, it's because your company met all the requirements for this project.] she said. [And, I noticed that your approach to business aligns closely with mine... that's why I asked you.] She smiled gently, hoping he would understand her better. [So please... let the past remain in the past.]
After that, he diligently worked on his part with the Imperial. Frequently, he came all the way to the palace, even though his subordinates could have handled the work. She once told him he could just send someone, but he replied,
"...No, I'm comfortable enough to spend time with you."
Irisha had never experienced anything serious in love before, but she wasn't naive—she knew exactly what that meant. That was why every encounter with him felt awkward, charged with unspoken tension.
[...For this matter, I need to check with Sir Higrid. Let me see his schedule—] she said, opening her book. [...Ah, the document should be ready in two days. I'll send someone to you—]
"I'll come myself," he said, smiling.
She returned a professional smile. [Then, in case I'm not here, I'll have someone stand by.]
Edward's smile faltered slightly, though he maintained enough composure that Irisha didn't notice. He watched her turn her face away. "...You're really ignoring me, huh?" he muttered under his breath, his eyes following the brunette hair that somehow made him want to reach out and touch it.
"Sister!" A small voice called, and a little girl came running, hugging her from behind.
Edward's eyes widened as he saw the resemblance to Irisha. "Is she... your child, Ms. Irisha?" The words escaped before he could even think.
Irisha, turning around to hug Arisha, shook her head. [She's my sister.] she said. [Introduce yourself, Arisha.]
Smiling brightly, Arisha signed, "I am Arisha Spes, Mister. I am 8 years old."
Edward smiled. "So you're her sister," he said warmly. "Are you a student?"
Arisha nodded and proudly showed her school insignia. "I am a first-grader," she said fluently in sign language. Then she turned to Irisha, who brushed her messy hair gently, and excitedly shared the stories of her day at school, her face alight with happiness.
"I touched a baby dragon, and it hugged me back!" she signed, her joy infectious. Irisha smiled, her expression radiating warmth. She glanced at Edward, who unconsciously covered his mouth, struck by the sight of this simple, beautiful family moment in a way he had never experienced before.
Irisha frowned as she looked at him and reached out with her hand, but he stood up immediately. "I have to go!" he said, flustered, unable to even sign properly. There was no time to fix it—he excused himself and left.
Once he realized no one else was around, he turned to the large palace window.
'Ah... I've screwed up.'
And he really had. His face betrayed everything: the sudden flush, the heat rising in his chest. Every time he closed his eyes, the image of Irisha smiling at him—gentle, warm, so impossibly beautiful—played vividly in his mind. His heart raced, desire swelling uncontrollably.
"...And now, I want to hold you so badly."
***
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They both looked at each other after witnessing an interesting walkout. Irisha herself couldn't understand Edward's actions and didn't want to think too much about it, so she returned to her work after Tara and the others came back from their break. Tara, as usual, hugged Arisha and played with her a little before Arisha said:
"I will go play!" and ran out of her office.
"Don't go far away! Remember the limit line!" said Tara after Irisha looked at her.
"Okaaay!" she said, bowing politely to another worker of Irisha's division. "Good afternoon, Mister," she greeted him, and he smiled and waved, signaling her not to go too far, just like Tara instructed.
[ I will go to the data storage.] she said while picking up her document.
"Is there something you need? I can do that for you."
She shook her head. [ I am still not sure which data I need, so I have to go by myself. Please just continue with your work.]
Tara smiled. "Okay. Please be careful."
It had already been five and a half months since she had started working in the Imperial Palace, and she was astonished at herself for being in such a place. To see the sunrise and sunset from the palace terraces, where the sky stretched endlessly above, and dragons occasionally soared nearby, was something to be grateful for. She still couldn't believe she could walk around freely in such a fantasy-like setting — grand halls with polished marble floors, towering ceilings decorated with murals of legendary heroes, and gardens filled with vibrant flowers that thrived even in the palace's colder, elevated climate. The knights and staff moved with practiced grace, and the subtle hum of magical energy in the air made everything feel alive, almost surreal. Though she was working, she felt that having the chance to wander this palace, surrounded by wonders she had only read about in stories, was a rare and breathtaking privilege. Every moment here felt like stepping into a living storybook.
'...but I hate this kind of storage system.' She thought it would be so much easier if there were an internet system to find documents instead of searching one by one through the vast, wooden storage filled with papers and scrolls.
'It took me 40 minutes to find this one agreement paper?' she sighed. While leaving the storage, guarded by knights who greeted her, she enjoyed the walk in the hallway facing the sky. Suddenly, a gust of wind blew.
Whoosh!
The document in her hand almost flew away, and her dress and hair were whipped around. She turned to the sky, where dragons had just landed along with their knights. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity.
'...what does it feel like to ride a dragon?' she wondered. People said not just anyone could ride a dragon; even trained Holy Knights didn't automatically become riders. It depended on chemistry and the dragon's response.
"What are you thinking right now?"
Irisha, immersed in the scenery and lost in her thoughts, didn't notice him at first. The Crown Prince was now standing before her, watching the dragons and their knights with awe. His golden eyes shimmered in the sunset as he looked her way. "...Are they pretty in your eyes?" he signed, his gaze steady on her.
It took her a moment to realize he was there. Startled, she quickly greeted him formally. [ Your Grace! ] she signed, bowing. [ Greetings to the dragon's blessing, Crown Prince! ]
He smiled. "What are you doing?" he asked, silently gesturing.
[ I was just picking up some data. ] she replied, looking up at him. His height made her feel small—her head barely reached his shoulder. Even in practice clothes, his presence was commanding, almost fantastical. She studied him for a moment, thinking how comfortably she now spoke with the infamous, notorious Crown Prince.
"...I really like how you look at me like that," he signed, ignoring formalities.
[ Pardon? ] she signed back, blinking.
"Do you want to ride one?"
[ Eh? She asked, trying to keep her composure, though excitement flickered in her eyes.
"I'll let you ride one if you want," he signed, reaching out his large hand toward her. He giggled behind his hand, watching her thoughtful expression.
[ ...But I'm not a Holy Knight—excuse me?! She signed, frowning as he suddenly grabbed her documents and handed them to the nearby knights.
"...You still have that concern, even though I'm the one who asked you?" he signed with a teasing smile.
[ ...Is it because Your Grace has dragon blood?] she asked.
He nodded, taking her hand and leading her to the center of the spacious field. They looked up at the sky, where many dragons soared. One swooped down quickly, making her instinctively go into a defensive position, still holding his hand.
Soon, she faced a dragon sitting in front of her. Its body was covered in black scales, claws sharp, and small horns giving it an aura of extraordinary valor. Its golden eyes were intimidating, yet she couldn't look away. Her curiosity made her want to reach out and touch it. The dragon suddenly flapped its wings aggressively and opened its mouth as if to attack, but the Crown Prince pulled her close, and the dragon bowed its head.
He smiled, holding her hand tight. "You should know dragons aren't friendly creatures," he said, noticing her shock. "Come, I'll let you ride one."
'...Why do you always smile like that?' she wondered, tilting her head slightly as her eyes followed him. The smile didn't match the image she had of him—the notorious, feared Crown Prince, the one known for his tyranny and coldness. It was open, almost effortless, and somehow... gentle.
Her mind couldn't make sense of it. Was this the same person who intimidated entire halls with a glance? How could someone so feared show such ease, such warmth, in a single expression? She felt a strange tug of curiosity—an urge to understand what made him smile like this, to uncover the person behind the intimidating title.
'He shouldn't be like this... should he?' she thought again, frowning in genuine puzzlement. The smile didn't feel threatening, didn't carry malice or power, and yet it held a quiet certainty that pulled at her attention. It distracted her completely—not only because it was handsome, but because it was unexpected, and she couldn't stop wondering why.
[ But you said I should be careful?] she asked.
He nodded. "Yes, but you don't have to worry if you're with me." Holding her waist, he lifted her onto the saddle with ease.
'What?!' It happened so suddenly. She clutched him tightly, terrified.
"If you're holding both my hands like that, how am I supposed to get on?" he asked.
'What are you saying?!' she panicked silently.
He smiled again, holding her in the air before jumping to the saddle. Irisha paled at the unexpected movement.
[ I am not that into action, Your Grace!] she exclaimed, sitting on his thigh, panicked.
He let go of her babbling for a moment while grabbing the dragon's reins and looking at her, who was still hugging him tightly. "You'll need to hold me tight when we fly."
[ Wait, wait a minute, please. I am not re—]
But he didn't wait for her to finish. The dragon took off like an airplane, forcefully propelling them into the air. She clung to him even more tightly.
'I am scared! I am scared!' she thought, screaming inside, not loosening her grip.
The thrill was overwhelming; she could not bear it anymore. She had to tell him—she had to! Slowly, she crawled her hand up to his neck, then his face, and gently grasped his cheeks, forcing him to meet her gaze while keeping herself safe.
"S...op," she whispered. Yet he only stared at her with those golden eyes, as if he didn't understand. Desperate, she leaned closer, letting her lips brush against his ear. She didn't even realize it herself—she just held him tight and murmured, "p...is...s...op."
As she pushed herself slightly away, he giggled—a light, free sound, as if the moment itself delighted him. One hand held her waist, the other her hand, and he turned his face slightly, making his golden eyes gleam like amber. She froze in awe, staring at the merging suns in the sky reflected in his eyes. The breathtaking scene stole her heart for a moment, and she let herself fully embrace it.
[It is so beautiful, Your Grace!] she said, her dark brown eyes sparkling as she smiled up at him, thinking of the sunset.
He smiled back, "Yes," he said softly, "it is," his gaze never leaving her and her eyes.
***