1 : The Tsundere, The Prince, And The Voices Of... May 2026

As he walked away, Elara leaned against the stone railing. The voices were finally quiet, save for Martha, who whispered with a satisfied smugness, “See? Was that so hard, you prickly little brat?” If you’d like to keep the story going, let me know:

Elara looked at Julian, then at the empty air where her ghosts resided, and finally gave in. She leaned forward, pecked him on the cheek, and immediately pushed him away. "There. Now leave me alone so I can think in peace." 1 : The Tsundere, the Prince, and the Voices of...

Julian stepped closer, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. "You’ve been arguing with thin air for ten minutes, Elara. And your face is the color of a strawberry. For someone who 'hates' me, you’re acting remarkably flustered." As he walked away, Elara leaned against the stone railing

"I am not flustered, I am overheated!" she barked, even as Julian took her hand. She leaned forward, pecked him on the cheek,

The breaking point came during the Royal Ball. Julian, looking unfairly handsome in midnight blue, cornered her onto the balcony. "Elara," he sighed, "why do you treat me like a common cold? If you hate the match, just say so."

The secret? Elara wasn’t just stubborn—she was haunted. Since her sixteenth birthday, she had heard .

Inside her head, the ancestors went nuclear. “TELL HIM HE LOOKS LIKE A GOD,” Martha roared. “APOLOGIZE!” Catherine screamed.