Phoenix POV

Morning light crept through the cracks of my bedroom curtains, bathing the room in golden hues. I blinked against its brilliance, my body protesting as I forced myself to sit up. The stillness of the palace enveloped me, a rare quiet before the day’s whirlwind.

As usual, the suffocating weight of expectations settled over my chest before I even stepped out of bed.

“Your Highness,” Yinsan’s familiar voice called out, accompanied by a sharp rap at the door.

“Come in,” I muttered, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

Yinsan

The door creaked open, and Yinsan strolled in, tablet in hand and a look of determination on his face. “Your schedule for today,” he said, dropping the device onto my bedside table with exaggerated flair.

“Good morning to you too,” I said dryly, earning a smirk from him.

Yinsan and I had been through this routine countless times. He was more than a secretary—he was my closest friend, practically family. We bickered like siblings, but his loyalty and sharp wit made him indispensable.

“Trade discussions, charity event, dinner with foreign diplomats,” he rattled off, ignoring my groan. “Your usual thrilling adventures.”

“I need coffee just to survive this,” I said, running a hand through my hair.

Yinsan’s smirk widened. “If I get you coffee, will you stop complaining and act like a responsible heir to the throne?”

I shot him a glare. “If you weren’t so useful, I’d have fired you by now.”

“And if you weren’t so dramatic, I’d have quit,” he quipped, crossing his arms.

Despite the banter, I knew he understood. Yinsan had seen the toll the crown had taken on me, the sacrifices I made every day for a life I hadn’t chosen.

The day dragged on in a haze of meetings, handshakes, and carefully curated smiles. By the time the evening approached, I felt like a marionette, my strings pulled by the expectations of those around me.

As we rode back to the palace, I turned to Yinsan, who sat beside me in the car.

“I need to get out of here,” I said, the weariness evident in my voice.

“Where to this time?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The National Art gallery of Neodaris,” I said without hesitation.

Yinsan’s lips twitched into a sly grin. “Ah, of course. The secret artist returning to his domain. Should I bring a royal fanfare?”

“Yinsan,” I warned, though I couldn’t suppress a small smile.

He chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Fine, fine. But if you’re dragging me along, you owe me dinner. A good one.”

“Deal,” I said, grateful for his company.

The Neodaris National Art Gallery was alive with activity when we arrived. The evening exhibition was drawing crowds, art enthusiasts mingling in the softly lit halls. I tugged the hood of my sweatshirt lower, my mask concealing most of my face.

“You look ridiculous,” Yinsan muttered as we entered.

“Better than being recognized,” I shot back.

Yinsan rolled his eyes but didn’t argue further. As we moved through the gallery, my heart swelled with a familiar sense of peace.

The Beautiful Journey of Life

Will I have to make it alone?

This place was my sanctuary, a world where I could shed the weight of my title and simply exist.

We stopped in front of a cluster of paintings, and I couldn’t help but smile. One of them was mine—The Once in a Blue Moon.

The Once in a Blue Moon

A middle-aged man stood beside me, his gaze fixed on the painting. “This one’s remarkable,” he said, turning to me.

“Thank you,” I replied instinctively, then froze.

His eyebrows shot up. “Wait... are you the artist?”

I hesitated, panic fluttering in my chest. “No, no,” I said quickly. “I just... agree. It’s beautiful.”

Yinsan stifled a laugh behind me, his amusement evident. “Smooth,” he whispered.

I shot him a glare, but the man was already moving on, none the wiser.

*********

Her POV

The gallery was a haven for dreamers, a place where reality faded and imagination took flight. I had been coming here for years, finding solace in the brushstrokes and colors that told stories words never could.

Tonight, the exhibition was buzzing with excitement. Rumor had it that Mystic Muse, the elusive artist whose work had taken the city by storm, had pieces on display.

I wandered from painting to painting, my heart quickening as I took in the artistry. Each piece felt like a window into the artist’s soul, raw and unfiltered.

The Monarch

The Sisters of Svarlok

Then I saw it.

An Heir Unborn

I stopped in my tracks. I felt drawn to the painting, like a moth to a flame. The vibrant swirls of gold and blue, the figures reaching for each other, the inscription at the bottom—it was mesmerizing.

Something about it was making my heart ache.

Something about it was sucking my breath out of my chest.

Something about it was giving me a sense of familiarity.

It's strange how some things always feel like home.
Or people too. . .

Get a hold on yourself, Aurora.
So what if you love reading romance novels and love poems. . .you can't just let yourself be so attached to something that you've never seen before.

“I forget the whole Universe when I’m with you…” I read aloud, the words inscribed on the metallic plaque, sending waves of heartbeats over my chest.

Just like the ocean reaching for the shore. . .

The painting spoke of love, yearning, and destiny. It was as if the artist had reached into my soul and painted what they found there.

I traced the inscription with my fingers, a lump forming in my throat.
I have read hundreds of romance novels, heard thousands of love stories- old and new both. But there was something in that painting that made me feel as if I were the subject of it.

And I don't why it hurts to even think that I'm not the subject of this painting?
Why?

Who was this Mystic Muse? And how did they understand emotions so intimately?

Phoenix’s POV

I noticed her the moment she stepped into the room. Her presence was quiet yet magnetic, drawing attention without demanding it. She stopped in front of An Heir Unborn, her posture relaxed yet focused.

I watched as she read the inscription, her lips moving silently. She reached out, her fingers grazing the canvas as if trying to connect with its essence.

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

“Staring is rude, you know,” Yinsan’s voice broke through my trance, laced with amusement.

“She... she seems to really like it,” I murmured, ignoring his teasing.

“Go talk to her, then,” he said, smirking. “Introduce yourself as Mystic Muse. I’m sure that’ll go well.”

I shot him a look. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re hopeless,” he retorted, shaking his head.

The night wore on, and the gallery began to empty. The mysterious girl lingered for a while longer before finally leaving. As she walked away, I felt an ache in my chest, a sense of loss I couldn’t explain.

“Yinsan,” I said as we exited the gallery.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“I need to find out who she is,” I said firmly.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. “Falling for a stranger, are we? How poetic.”

Something about how he said it made my chest tighten.
As if I had heard it before. . .
maybe not here, not now
but. . .I had heard it. . .

“Yinsan,” I warned, though my tone lacked bite and sounded more like a whine.

He chuckled, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll see what I can do. But you owe me big time for this.”

As the car sped back to the palace, I leaned back in my seat, my thoughts consumed by the girl and the connection I felt to her.

For the first time in years, I felt something other than duty and obligation.

I felt hope.

Or maybe something more.

《I don't know what you did to me but I simply can't take my mind off your thoughts...》

Did you like Phoenix's paintings? Well I loved them.
Can you guess who stole the prince's heart?
Any BL fans here?
Anyone addicted to the boss-secretary love trope?
Please tell me in the comments and stay tuned for the next update<333
Please vote😊

Yours sincerely,
Author nim