Elizabeth stood behind the banister at the balcony of the palace, letting her eyes travel towards the orange cinder in the horizon that was the setting sun. Subconsciously her fingers ran over the silk dress that she was wearing as if she were running it through water. She sighed, wondering how it was possible for her to have ever thought about giving this up—the beauty of the palace, the exquisite dress and her utterly beautiful prince who loved her as much as she loved him.

            A warm hand came up her waist, sending electric shocks through her body. They landed just above her hips where they tingled her sensitive skin. She giggled and turned to wrap her arms around his neck, snuggling into his collarbone. They stayed like this for a moment, Elizabeth savouring the warmth that radiated through his body and the steady sounds of his beating heart. This was where she truly belonged, she thought, she will not run away again.

            “I love you,” she said into his clothes and pulled her arms even tighter together. He didn’t wince in pain, so Elizabeth took that as a sign that he was okay. “I love you, Prince Harry. I always will.”

            Elizabeth waited for him to reciprocate her feelings, but there was no response from him. Baffled, Elizabeth looked up into his face—

            —and found that she was staring into the eyes of Prince Harry, whose pupils were entirely consumed in black ink. There were no stars that glittered in those eyes; just black, like the bottomless pit of a dark well. Elizabeth gave a little yelp and hurried to disengage her arms from around him.

            “Get out!” he shouted at her, his face contorted in pure anger.

            “B-but Prince Harry!” she screamed, terror consuming her body as two burly palace guards caught at her arms and pulled her away from him.

            “I said, get out!” he repeated with such venom that seemed to pierce through her heart like a bullet tearing through her skin.

            “No!” she struggled and struggled, but alas her cries were useless as the door separating them closed with a loud thud.

            Winter threw the pen she was holding unceremoniously onto the floor and watched as it landed with a soft thud and rolled away from her, until finally it stopped around three meters away from where she was sitting. Unsatisfied, she threw her journal that she had been writing in as well and it landed an inch further from the pen. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the sound of her rapidly beating heart pounding in her ears, but it was no use. After the dramatic encounter with Moon Bin where she had brought up Yoo Bin’s name, Winter had not received a single text from him requesting her to meet him for another consultation. She had waited and waited for him to call upon her, and had done so for two whole days, but still there was no sign of him. At last Winter decided that he had totally given up on her and went on to practice by herself without a blindfold. But there was only so much progress an amateur dancer could have without a mentor to guide her. After two days of frustrating practice sessions, Winter found her way to the rooftop and had begun doing what she liked best: writing. Only, her thoughts were constantly interjected by memories of Moon Bin’s monstrous face as he shouted at her to get out.

            She raised her palms to her face, wishing she could rub off the picture of his anger from her mind.

            “Are you not going to pick that up?”

            Winter removed her palms from her face promptly. “Hi!” she said in an uncharacteristic high-pitched voice. She tried to force out what she thought was a vibrant smile, but she knew her facade was not good enough.

            “You seem a bit down to sound this bright,” Eun Woo said in a non-offensive tone, his eyes scrutinizing her face as he sat down beside her. “Here,” he place