He stood at the entrance like a vision pulled straight from a dream—or perhaps a nightmare, depending on who was looking.
Draped in a tailored black suit so perfectly fitted that it seemed to be sculpted from the darkness itself, he was the very embodiment of lethal grace. The fabric caught the golden light of the chandeliers, but he remained untouched by its warmth—a shadow moving within the light.
His light brown hair, styled with effortless perfection, carried an air of carelessness—as if beauty came naturally to him, as if he did not have to try.
But what shook them the most—
Were his eyes.
Emerald green. Brilliant. Icy. All-seeing.
They flickered over the crowd, unreadable, disinterested—yet devastatingly sharp.
Those eyes had mesmerized billions on screens.
They had made people fall in love.
And yet, tonight—
Those very eyes made the rulers of the world tremble.
It was the way he moved, the way he existed—
Not as an outsider looking in.
Not as a guest hoping to impress.
But as a sovereign stepping into his own domain.