After the ceremony, Joss extended his hand and gently touched Gawin's.

"I... hope you won't find me too serious."

His voice was low and gentle, just like that night.

Gawin's breath caught.

"I think... I once saw you dance."

Joss flinched.

"Where?"

"At the masquerade."

"I... don't remember clearly."

Gawin smiled beneath the veil.
That's okay.
He remembered enough for both of them.

—

That night, Gawin sat in his new room—the eastern wing of Solestra's palace, where the moon wasn't as round as back home, but the wind was stronger.

He placed a hand over his chest.

"Joss doesn't know who I am.
But I know who he is.
And I don't know... if I should tell him."

Because saying it out loud would be ridiculous.
Because they were already married, suddenly claiming "hey, we've danced before!" sounded like flirtation in reverse.

But also—

He didn't want to ruin whatever this fragile thing was.
This gentle beginning.
Even if it started with a veil between them.

—

The newlywed royal suite sat in the southern wing.
Sixteen-foot ceilings.
Crystal domes.
Curtains soft as Lunaria's morning mist.
Private bath.
Balcony over the forest.

Wedding night.

The bedroom itself was as large as a small ballroom.
Walls draped in pale gold.
Chandeliers lit like daylight.
A bed so massive that if they slept on opposite ends, they'd need to send messenger birds to say goodnight.

Gawin sat on the edge, back straight, hands folded, veil still on.

He heard the door open.

Joss entered quietly, as if he didn't want to disturb himself.

—

He paused, cast a fleeting glance at the "bride," and immediately turned away, staring at the bookshelf like it had just revealed kingdom secrets.

"Thank you for... attending and cooperating in the ceremony," Joss said, so polite it made Gawin want to laugh.

Gawin nodded.

Five seconds of silence.

—

On the very first night, Joss proposed an "arrangement."

Not in writing.
But in that well-mannered, prince-born-in-a-palace way, he called it a "mutual coexistence agreement based on respect."

Joss cleared his throat, still facing away.

"I don't think... we should behave as spouses right away."

"..."

"I... have someone in my heart. I lost him at the Moonlight Waltz. Haven't found him yet. But I promise not to make you suffer for it."

"..."

"So... I ask for a year. In that time, I'll try to get royal permission for you to return to Lunaria, if you wish. I won't touch you. I won't impose anything. You can reject all conjugal expectations. I—"

"That's enough," Gawin whispered, soft as mist.

Joss went silent.

The veil was still on.
But Gawin's heart had already collapsed at the words "someone in my heart."

"It's me.
You fool.
The person you're looking for... is the one who danced with you that night.
The one who ran when the clock struck twelve."

—

Joss still wouldn't look at him directly.
And somehow, that only made Gawin... soften.
How lonely he must be, Gawin thought.
To turn away from his own bride with such careful grace—
as if he, too, was afraid his heart might misbehave.

"I'll sleep on the sofa," Joss said.
"So you're comfortable. It'll also avoid suspicion."

"You really think you need to promise not to touch me?"
"You should be worried in reverse—because I married my crush and I'm losing my mind."

Of course, he didn't say that.
Just nodded and reached toward the bookshelf—suddenly fascinated by a 700-page political manuscript on horse export bans from the western border.

"Do as you like," Gawin said unexpectedly.
"But don't take the pillow from the couch. The ones on the bed are softer."

Joss paused.

For the first time all day, he turned back to look properly.
Gawin was sitting upright, shoulders twitching slightly—almost like he was laughing.

Under the veil, a familiar glint.

Joss furrowed his brows.
But said nothing.

—

That night, Joss slept facing the wall.
One hand resting over his chest, fingers brushing the chain where a small moonstone ring hung quietly.

"Those brown eyes...
Why do I keep feeling..."

He didn't know.

That the person from the waltz
was now less than ten steps away—
hugging a pillow, heart drumming like festival drums,
and trying not to scream:

"BABE IT'S ME I'M RIGHT HERE."

—

Living with Joss was... strange.

He behaved like the perfect princely roommate:
Always knocked.
Always poured tea for both.
Always said, "I don't mean to disturb you," even when he was just breathing nearby.

Sometimes, Gawin pretended to fall asleep at the desk—
Just to see if Joss would cover him with a blanket.

He did.

With a note attached:

"Apologies if this kingdom made you cold. And for disturbing you. No intention to cross boundaries. The blanket was washed beforehand."

Gawin stared at the note.
Then laughed helplessly.

—

At night, Joss slept on the couch.

Same position.
Always on his side.
Always one hand over his forehead,
like he was pondering grave matters—state budget or... those brown eyes from the ball.

Gawin lay in bed, often turned toward him.
Couldn't see clearly—just the silhouette cast on the wall.
The shape of someone once so close, now a world away.

"You really are my husband.
And I really am crushing on my husband.
And my husband thinks I'm someone else.
And now we're living like roommates in wedding clothes.
I can't take this anymore."

—

And yet, the small things kept chipping away at his heart.

Joss never entered without knocking three times.
Always remembered to sweeten Gawin's tea—"Lunarians prefer light honey."
Always requested extra apple tart because Gawin liked it.
Once, when Gawin coughed, warm water appeared beside his bed within minutes.

"He's so polite I feel like I'm living with the professor of How to Be a Decent Human."

—

Gawin began to smile more often.

When Joss greeted him groggily in the morning.
When he searched for books with one hand while the other held tea.
When they read together in the same room, no words spoken, but peace blooming in the quiet.

—

One evening, Gawin tiptoed into the lounge.

Joss was writing, hunched slightly, hair falling over his brow.

Gawin watched for a while.
No reason.
He just... wanted to.

Then, softly:

"You know..."

"If I weren't pretending to be a princess...

I think I would've kissed you a long time ago."

Joss turned.

Gawin jumped, nearly knocking over a potted plant.

"Did you say something?"

"What?"

"I thought you said—"

"No! I just... asked if you wanted a pear!"

Silence.

Then Joss laughed.

Really laughed. For the first time.

—

That night, Gawin lay in bed, blanket up to his chin, face burning.

"I'm doomed.
I married my crush.
He laughed.
And I'm melting like cake left in the sun."