The meeting room was thick with silence, the kind that settles when a dangerous topic is broached. The prince leaned forward, his golden eyes piercing, and finally shattered the stillness.

“So, what is this love that everyone speaks of with such reverence?” His voice held a cold curiosity, as if love were some quaint superstition, unworthy of his attention.

His words left the room momentarily stunned.

Leon, the first to recover, spoke hesitantly. “I… I think it’s another type of power, Your Highness. One you must obtain to fully harness the dragon’s strength.”

The prince’s gaze narrowed, his voice soft but sharp. “Power?” A dangerous glint flickered in his eyes. “You’re suggesting there’s a force out there that I do not already possess?” His attention fixed on Leon, watching him squirm. “Perhaps you’re mistaken. Or simply failing to explain it well.”

Leon hesitated, glancing at Marco for support. “I believe the deposed prince might have known its whereabouts, Your Highness. If we could extract more information from him—”

“He’s dead,” the prince cut in, his tone like iron.

“I’m sorry?” Marco blinked, caught off guard.

The prince’s secretary, Nixon, spoke with detached efficiency. “The deposed prince was found dead in his cage a few hours after interrogation. It appears he was weaker than anticipated.”

Tension thickened the air. I could feel it pressing down on all of us.

The prince leaned back, contemplative, though his eyes flickered with something colder—something closer to anger. “So the one man who might’ve had the answer is gone. Convenient.” His voice held no grief, only calculation. “He said it was something I’d never know or learn. Not tangible, like this scroll. Something that must be attained.”

“There's nothing to worry about. I believe His Highness can easily attain it,” Nixon said with unwavering confidence.

“But the deposed prince said it was impossible for His Highness to learn,” I interjected, drawing a sharp look from Nixon.

“His Highness is adept at mastering any weapon, leading our warriors, enforcing the law, and grasping political complexities. There’s nothing he cannot understand,” Nixon defended passionately, though his fervor made me roll my eyes inwardly.

“There is one thing,” I said, despite Leo’s warning taps on my shin. “His Highness can’t read the Arcanographica.”

The room fell into an uneasy silence, all eyes turning toward me with a mix of confusion and apprehension. The prince, however, laughed—a cold, bitter sound that echoed through the sterile room.

“What are you implying?” he asked, his voice laced with mock amusement, though something darker lurked beneath it.

I met his gaze. “What I mean is that love might be like the Arcanographica to you, Your Highness. You can’t hold it, can’t read it—but you can learn it if you try.”

“Tuk, I think it’s a different—”

“I see.” The prince cut Leo off, nodding as if I had unveiled some profound truth. His expression was calm—too calm.

“YOUR HIGHNESS!!” Nixon and Leon exclaimed, their voices a mix of shock and protest.

The prince ignored them, his focus on me. “Richard knew me well enough to choose his words carefully. If he said such a thing, he must have studied me as thoroughly as I did him. But I believe someone here already knows how to learn the heart.” His gaze sharpened, and then—

“Isn’t that right, Little Lark?”

“Please, Your Highness, call me Tuk,” I said through gritted teeth, forcing a smile. “And I’m not the only one who knows the heart. It’s something everyone understands as they grow up.”

My statement was met with blank stares, the men appearing more bewildered than enlightened.

“I mean, you all must have at least one person you love, right?” I tried again, feeling like I was trying to teach a dinosaur to swim.

“So it’s about a person,” Marco murmured, as if the idea had only just occurred to him.

“I see, it’s about someone,” Rowell and Leon echoed, their faces reflecting a mix of realization and confusion. Nixon and the prince remained silent, their expressions stuck somewhere between deep thought and utter bewilderment.

Are they serious?

“So who is this person?” the prince asked, his tone grave as if we were discussing state secrets and not the simple concept of affection.

Oh, god! This is so frustrating! Keep it together, Tuk. Patience, patience.

“Well, it’s a case-by-case basis, Your Highness. Love comes in many forms, whether platonic or romantic. However, the first type of love everyone should experience is parental love—something you feel through your parents.”

“Hmm…” The silence that followed was so awkward it could have been cut with a knife and served as the main course at this absurd meeting.

“I’m sure your parents loved you, right? Showered you with care and affection?”

“I think my parents never did such a thing,” Leon replied thoughtfully, leading the others to share his realization. An air of emptiness seemed to fill the room.

“Same here.”

These people are hopeless. No wonder they’re all such a mess.

The prince’s voice cut through the silence, low and deliberate. “Interesting.” He studied me. “If it can be learned, then it can be mastered.”

A pause. Then, decisively: “You’ll teach me.”

I blinked. “What?”

“I’ll make you my love advisor.”

What?!

I stared at him, my brain short-circuiting. The most powerful man in the empire just appointed me... his love advisor? I mean, that’s fine and all, but how can I teach someone about love when I am an asexual person?

My mission had taken a bizarre turn—becoming a love advisor to a prince who was utterly clueless about affection. The thought alone made me chuckle bitterly. What's with this sudden turn of romance? I needed a plan, a new approach to teach him about love logically—an uphill battle as impossible as taming a dragon. 

That day marked the beginning of a journey I never saw coming—one that would change my life forever. And maybe, just maybe, teach me what it really means to love.