Ruin In Royals (Royal #1: Book 2) | ✔

5

surprise ✨

-• are we flirting? •-

With one earbud plugged in my ear and the other dangling from my neck, I listen to my favourite playlist as I unstoppably click pictures of everything I come across that catches my eye.

Through the lens of a seventeen year old who hasn't travelled much and is on her first ever international trip, it might sound far fetched, but this royal palace of Joseon Dynasty is unarguably one of the most beautiful architecture I've ever seen. To have a brief glimpse of Korean history and to feel that connection with every period drama you've watched as a Kdrama fan, this place is a must visit. I'm glad Tanya brought us here first because I can't imagine coming here after a tiring day and missing out on all the view it has to offer.

The pavilion, the pond, the throne room, the hallways, the gates , statues, everything about this palace is simply picturesque.

Currently, we're at the lake and I can just imagine the Queens of that era coming here with their maids, chit chatting, gossiping, laughing and smiling. I lower my camera to fit the translucent beauty of the lake in my eyes, when they find another subject exuding the same appeal, standing at the opposite end of the bridge.

If Shourya was wearing one of those traditional rajput attires, he'd truly look like a King on a visit to the neighbouring country. I sigh softly, my lips automatically lifting in a smile. It falls when our eyes meet and he raises a brow. I clear my throat, raising the camera and fixing it on the lake.

It slowly shifts back to him and I sigh in relief finding his gaze on the view in front him just like the other tourists. My subtle way of finding where his attention is turns into a photography session because he looks nothing less than a vogue model with that intense look on his face as he admires the place.

I capture continuous shots of his side profile, then he lifts his head, and looks up at the sky. My lips part in awe.

This man is an art.

And his plastic surgeon is an artist.

Like an obsessed stalker, I follow every little movement of his body. As long as he isn't looking at me, or aware that someone is clicking hundreds of pictures of him, I'm imagining myself as a professional photographer and him as the most sought after model to feel less like a criminal.

He holds the edge of the bridge with his right hand and gracefully shoves back the lapel of his coat, slipping the other in the pockets of his trousers, leaning in slightly before he tilts his chin lower to look down the bridge.

Is he doing this intentionally?

How is he posing so effortlessly?

I zoom in slightly so I can capture a closer shot of his face when something grotesque slides into the lens without a warning. "Can you see me?"

I shriek in horror and drop the camera. Thankfully, it was hung around my neck.

Agastya smiles brightly at me. "Did I scare you?"

"Yes, you moron!" I push past him and walk away, meeting Shourya's eyes who's now looking at us because of the commotion. I blush and quickly look away. If he finds out I've hundred different pictures of him in my camera roll, I'm spending a night in jail.

Agastya follows me and swings an arm around my neck. "Show me what pictures you clicked," he tries to grab my camera.

I fling it away from his reach. "You can't. Not all of them came out great."