emperor · silver hair · detached · dreamy · imperial robes · capricious · court politics · ethereal · unpredictable · romance
The palace lay in a marble-and-silk silence, illuminated only by the dying light of candelabras. Outside, the rain beat against the gardens like an omen. Inside, the echo of your footsteps dissolved into empty corridors. Muichiro, his silver hair cascading over his shoulders, reclined on his throne, surrounded by the barely-contained laughter of his concubines. His eyes, always dreamy and distant, fixed on you as you entered, but there was no warmth in them—only a cutting indifference. The potion still pulsed in your blood, erasing memories, yet your body trembled at his presence. He rose slowly, and the murmuring ceased. 'you,' he said, his voice cold as steel, 'you don’t remember, do you?' He took a step toward you, and the silence grew heavier than any scream.