In the dream, she’d insisted that he was the one in love—not her.
But now here she was, sending a letter just because he was sick.
‘Figures that was just a dream.’
Chuckling to himself, he slowly unfolded the letter.
Yes. This was exactly what he’d expected.
Grinning from ear to ear, he began to read—only to freeze halfway through the first line.
He leaned in, squinting as if he might’ve misread something.
Nope. Still strange.
He read it again.
And again.
The contents didn’t change—and the handwriting was unmistakably hers.
Then came the sound.
“Ack!”
A short, startled cry escaped his lips.
“Your Highness, is something wrong?”
The eunuch’s voice rang out from beyond the door, alarmed.
But Sinyeong couldn’t even answer.
It had definitely been a dream. He thought it had been a dream.
But apparently, it hadn’t.
He turned slowly to glance at the bed.
He remembered it clearly—how he had sat at the very edge of that bed... and how he’d leaned in and kissed her.
