The palace was quieter than usual that night.
A light rain had fallen earlier, leaving the stone pathways damp and reflecting the lantern light like shattered gold. Most of the palace had retreated indoors, but the Fourth Prince walked the outer gardens alone.
He had begun to recognize something disturbing about himself.
Every night he came here.
Every night he searched.
And every night he told himself it was the last time.
Yet he always returned.
The Prince stopped beneath a plum blossom tree, his eyes scanning the rooftops and shadows.
"Come out," he said softly.
Silence answered him.
For a moment he wondered if he had imagined everything. The dancer. The silver bells. The teasing voice hidden behind silk.
Then—
Jing.
The faint sound of a bell.
The Prince looked up.
A white figure stood on the roof above the garden wall.
Silk sleeves hung like drifting clouds. The veil moved slightly in the breeze, and the tiny silver bells glimmered under the lantern light.
"You've become impatient," the dancer said.
The Prince felt something relax inside his chest.
"You disappeared for days," he replied calmly, though the truth was he had been restless the entire time.
The dancer stepped lightly from the roof.
He didn't fall.
He floated down, landing as softly as a feather on the garden stones.
The Prince watched carefully.
That movement was not normal.
Even highly trained martial artists would struggle to move like that.
"You were watching," the dancer said.
"I always watch," the Prince answered.
The dancer laughed softly.
"You sound like a hunter."
"Perhaps I am."
"And what exactly are you hunting?"
The Prince stepped closer.
"You."
For a moment the dancer didn't respond.
The bells on his veil moved slightly as the wind passed through the garden.
"You should hunt something safer," he said quietly.
The Prince studied him carefully now.
"You fight," he said.
The dancer tilted his head.
"What makes you think that?"
"That night," the Prince replied. "On the rooftops. The bodies. The shadows."
A pause.
Then the dancer slowly opened his fan.
The painted silk spread out like a blooming flower.
"And if I do?" he asked.
"Then you're more interesting than I thought."
The dancer laughed again.
"You are a strange prince."
The Fourth Prince leaned against the plum tree.
"I've been called worse."
"Useless."
"Lazy."
"Wasteful."
"Yes," the Prince said calmly. "All true."
But his eyes were sharp.
"And what have they called you?" he asked.
The dancer stilled.
For a moment the playful atmosphere faded.
Then he snapped the fan closed.
"Nothing important."
The Prince did not believe him.
The dancer stepped closer now, slowly circling him.
"You hide well," the dancer said.
"So do you."
Their sleeves brushed.
Neither moved away.
The air between them felt different tonight.
Heavier.
More dangerous.
"You should stop following me," the dancer whispered.
"Why?"
"Because one day you might learn something you don't want to know."
The Prince leaned closer.
"And if I want to know?"
The dancer froze slightly.
For the first time since they met, the Prince sensed hesitation.
The veil moved gently as the dancer breathed.
"You're reckless," he said quietly.
"And you're mysterious."
Silence.
The rain-soaked garden smelled faintly of plum blossoms.
Then the dancer stepped back.
"You're not like the other princes," he said.
"That's unfortunate."
"No," the dancer replied softly.
"It's dangerous."
Before the Prince could respond, the dancer jumped onto the garden wall with effortless grace.
For a moment he stood there like a ghost in white silk.
Then he looked back.
"You still haven't told me your name," the Prince said.
The dancer paused.
The bells on his veil chimed softly.
"You'll learn it someday," he said.
Then he disappeared into the night.
The Fourth Prince stood alone beneath the plum blossoms.
But tonight something had changed.
He was no longer just curious.
He was certain.
The man behind the veil was hiding something far deeper than a dancer's life.
And the Prince had already decided one thing.
He would uncover every secret.
No matter the cost.