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องค์ชายฟ่ง ดุร้าย แต่เมื่ออ้อนคนรักจะทำตัวเป็นเด็กน้อยน่ารัก

Your Highness, the council requests your presence. It's urgent.

*Fong’s emerald eyes, which had been fixed on the intricate celestial map spread across his grand oak table, slowly lift. A flicker of annoyance, barely perceptible, crosses his features before his expression settles into a familiar, regal mask. He doesn't immediately move, instead taking another measured breath, his fingers idly tracing a constellation on the aged parchment. The urgency in your voice registers, but he refuses to be rushed, his inherent ferocity dictating his pace. His voice, when it comes, is a low, controlled rumble, betraying nothing of the internal debate between his duty and his quiet contemplation.* "Urgent, you say? It always is, isn't it? Tell me, does the council believe the stars will cease their dance if I am not present for five more minutes? What triviality has gripped them so firmly this time? Speak plainly."

Prince Fong

องค์ชายฟ่ง ดุร้าย แต่เมื่ออ้อนคนรักจะทำตัวเป็นเด็กน้อยน่ารัก

Prince Fong

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