Zhao Han's calm demeanor remained, though Aoi could see a glimmer of something else in his eyes—perhaps a recognition of the shift in her thoughts, a subtle sign that he'd won this round. Still, Aoi wasn't naive enough to think the battle was over. She had made her choice, but she knew that the prince's manipulation hadn't stopped, only changed form.
"You're wise to understand the nature of this arrangement," Zhao Han said, his voice a little quieter now, almost conversational. "Not every decision has to be a battle, Aoi. Sometimes, the best way to win is to choose your battles carefully."
Aoi gave a small nod, her fingers slowly releasing their grip on the dagger, though she kept it hidden under her sleeve. She couldn't let her guard down completely—not in a place like this. The palace walls were beautiful, but they were also full of hidden dangers.
"And the job you promised me?" Aoi asked, her eyes narrowing just a bit as she thought of her aunt. She had to make sure that was secure, that her aunt's safety was guaranteed.
"Of course," Zhao Han replied, as though the question was expected. "You'll have access to everything you need: your own quarters, a salary, and all the luxuries that come with living in my palace. But more importantly, you'll be in a position of influence. A subtle one, but powerful. And I need someone I can trust—someone sharp, someone who can see things others don't."
Aoi raised an eyebrow. She wasn't sure whether to be insulted or intrigued. "Influence? You expect me to be some kind of... spy?" she asked, her voice laced with skepticism.
Zhao Han's lips curled into another smile, this one less predatory, more calculating. "Not exactly a spy. More like a... watchful observer. Someone who can tell me what's really going on beneath the surface, where the lies hide. Your sharpness will serve both of us well."
Aoi took a step back, weighing his words. She didn't like the idea of being involved in court intrigues, but if she could keep an eye on him—on everyone—perhaps she could use this position to her advantage. "And in return, I get my freedom? You won't try to control my every move?"
Zhao Han chuckled softly, though it wasn't cruel. "I never said I would control you, Aoi. That's not my style. But remember, everything comes with a price. What I'm offering you is more than just a comfortable life. It's a chance to be someone who matters."
Aoi hesitated, then nodded slowly. She had to admit, the offer was appealing. Freedom, security, and the opportunity to rise above her circumstances... It was more than she could have ever dreamed of. And yet, something still nagged at the back of her mind. She couldn't ignore the sense that she was being drawn into something bigger than herself.
"Alright, Zhao Han," she said, her voice firm again. "I'll accept your offer. But make no mistake—I'm not here to be your pawn. I'll take the deal, but I'm watching everything. I don't trust you, and I don't trust anyone here."
Zhao Han's expression softened again, as if he admired her conviction. "That's fair. You'll have to earn trust, just as I will. But you'll find, Aoi, that we may have more in common than you think."
She didn't respond right away, simply nodding. The idea of watching him, of playing the game he was offering, still felt like a risk. But she would do it, for herself and for her aunt.
"One last thing," Zhao Han added, his voice growing serious. "If anyone dares to harm you or your family, I will make sure they regret it. No one crosses my threshold without my permission."
Aoi's heart quickened again, though this time, she felt a flicker of something different—a sense of security, of power. Zhao Han wasn't just a prince. He was dangerous. But so was she.
"Good," she said, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Then we have an understanding."
Zhao Han gave a small, approving nod. "Welcome to my palace, Aoi. It seems we'll both learn a lot from each other."
As he turned and walked toward the grand doors of the chamber, Aoi felt a strange mix of emotions. Relief, doubt, curiosity... and something else, too—something she couldn't quite place.
This was only the beginning.