Michaelli observed Tuk in silence, his gaze steady, calculating. Then, he leaned back slightly, swirling the remnants of his tea.

 

"Now that you know the origins of Marceau’s laws," he mused, "do you believe it’s enough for you to find a solution to our predicament?"

 

Tuk furrowed her brows, deep in thought. The prince had just revealed how love had been stripped from the empire’s history, reshaped into something forbidden. And yet, here she was—standing at the center of a court that had already begun entertaining the word again without knowing that she had already thrown herself in danger.

 

But if she played this right, she could shift the conversation entirely.

 

A moment passed before she lifted her head, meeting the prince’s expectant gaze.

 

"I do have one request, Your Highness," she said carefully.

 

Michaelli raised a brow, intrigued. "Go on."

 

"If I successfully navigate the court—if I prove myself capable of handling this role—then I want you to change my title." Tuk straightened, her voice unwavering. "No more ‘Love Advisor.’"

 

The prince tilted his head slightly, amused. "You dislike it that much?"

 

"It's misleading," she said plainly. "And if I am to maneuver through the empire’s politics, I need a title that grants me credibility, not cringe-worthy."

 

Michaelli chuckled softly. "Then what do you propose?"

 

Tuk hesitated. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. But before she could form an answer, the prince tapped his fingers against the table and smirked.

 

"How about ‘Royal Scholar of Hearts’?"

 

Tuk blinked.

 

He continued, his voice light but edged with meaning. "It ties to matters of the heart—not in the foolish romantic sense, but in history, philosophy, and strategy. No one can argue against the importance of a scholar, after all."

 

Tuk considered it. The title had weight. It had purpose. It reframed her role into something far more powerful than what the court originally mocked.

 

A slow smile spread across her lips. "I like it."

 

"Naturally," Michaelli said smugly, taking another sip of tea.

 

Tuk exhaled before adding, "But I must ask for one more thing."

 

"Oh?" His golden eyes gleamed with amusement.

 

"I may be creating enemies beyond my reach," she pointed out. "If I am to play this role properly, I need full protection. No noble, no faction, no hidden enemy should be able to touch me without consequences."

 

Michaelli’s smirk deepened, clearly entertained. "You truly do think ahead, don’t you?"

 

"I have to," she replied simply.

 

The prince tapped the rim of his cup thoughtfully before setting it down with a decisive clink. "Very well. I grant you full protection under my name. Anyone who dares to act against you will answer to me."

 

A small shiver ran down Tuk’s spine at the weight of his words. The prince was a terrifying man to have as an enemy—but as an ally, he was just as formidable.

 

She met his gaze, and for the first time, there was an understanding between them.

 

Michaelli leaned back in his chair, studying Tuk with an amused glint in his eyes. Their agreement had been sealed—a pact between two minds sharp enough to carve paths through the treacherous court.

 

Tuk, for once, felt a sense of control in this game. But just as the prince was about to dismiss her, she spoke up again.

 

"One last request, Your Highness," she said, glancing over her shoulder.

 

Michaelli arched a brow, intrigued. "You’re quite demanding today." Tuk ignored the remark and clasped her hands behind her back, her tone unwavering. "I want access to the original scroll in the historian’s office—the one in the glass case."

 

A brief silence followed between them.

 

The prince tapped his fingers against the armrest, golden eyes narrowing slightly. "Interesting request," he murmured.

 

Tuk remained still.

 

Michaelli’s smirk deepened. "Do you even know what that scroll can do?"

 

"No," she admitted, "but I suspect it holds something worth reading."

 

The prince let out a low chuckle, tilting his head as if weighing his options. Finally, he rose to his feet, stepping toward her with that familiar, deliberate grace.

 

"Very well," he said, voice rich with intrigue. "I look forward to how it will be of use to you."

 

The air between them tensed—an unspoken challenge, a game not yet played to its end.

 

And with that, the deal was struck.