The intoxicating scent of peonies smelled only of sorrow to Jung Hoseok. A delicate and fragile omega serving the five-year-old Crown Prince, he had hidden behind the bushes, his shoulders trembling in silent sobs. From a distance, the Emperor caught sight of the weeping figure. A spike of curiosity pierced his heart: "Who is that sobbing omega?"

His order to his personal attendant was simple: "Bring him to me."

But within the labyrinthine corridors of the palace, a toxic misunderstanding took root. The senior attendant, assuming that after years of indifference toward the Empress, his master had finally developed an appetite for a concubine, draped Hoseok in an exquisite robe of azure silk, polished his skin with pearl powder, and adorned his hair with golden pins.

As Hoseok stood before the Emperor’s residence, trembling in clothes that felt like a burial shroud, his heart shattered. He was but a humble servant, not a concubine! And to be brought before the Emperor—a man known for his coldness and his complete disregard for his own Empress—was a nightmare. Was his quiet life in the shadow of the palace coming to an end right here?

These heavy silks feel like golden chains dragging me toward my doom. Why have they dressed me in this splendor? This is not the attire of a servant; it is the shroud of a sacrifice. My God, if he sees me and thinks I intended to tempt him with this beauty...