Dorian sat in his office, staring at the towering stack of work spread across his desk. The sight was almost familiar enough to be comforting, yet it weighed on him the same way it always had.
Nothing had changed.
Not from the days he sat on a throne, not from the days he ruled with absolute authority—this endless stream of decisions, reports, problems waiting to be solved. It had followed him into this life as if it belonged to him as much as his own shadow.
He leaned back in his chair and exhaled slowly.
Back then, he had handled everything himself. Every petition, every strategy, every judgment passed through his hands. It was control, and he had valued it.
Until Katerina came.
His gaze unfocused slightly as the memory settled in.
