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keehomania · 1 month

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under the moon (달 아래) — kim namjoon (김남준)

this is part one, part two can be found here

✧.*

life had unraveled like the frayed edges of a delicate drapery. each thread that once held your world together seemed to have slipped through your fingers, leaving you grasping at memories that no longer felt like your own. the air had grown heavier, thick with a silence that pressed against your chest, making it hard to breathe. colors that once brightened your days had faded to muted shades, as if the world itself had lost its vibrancy, reflecting the numbness that settled deep within you.

time moved differently, stretching endlessly in moments that felt like they would never end, yet slipping away in a haze when you tried to grasp it. nights bled into days, marked only by the quiet echoes of thoughts you couldn’t quite escape, thoughts that circled in your mind like a storm you couldn’t find shelter from. you were adrift, untethered, as if the solid ground you once stood on had crumbled beneath your feet, leaving you suspended in a void where nothing made sense.

even the simple things, the ones you had taken for granted, felt foreign and out of reach. laughter sounded distant, like a memory of a dream you weren’t sure you ever had. the warmth of sunlight on your skin felt like a distant echo of a comfort you could no longer feel. you had become a stranger in your own life, watching from a distance as it fell apart, powerless to stop the pieces from scattering.

you sat on the docks, your feet dangling over the edge, barely touching the cold, dark water below. the wooden planks were weathered and rough beneath you, each one holding the memory of countless others who had sat here before, lost in their own thoughts. the day was heavy with the scent of salt and seaweed, the gentle lapping of the waves the only sound breaking the silence. above, the sky was a vast expanse of blue, dotted with stars that seemed too far away to matter.

in your hand was a bottle of soju, the cool glass damp from the night air. you had been nursing it for a while, taking slow, deliberate sips, letting the burn settle in your chest before swallowing it down like a bitter truth. each sip felt like a small rebellion against the ache that had taken residence in your heart, but it did little to numb the pain.

the events of the past few days replayed in your mind, each one sharper than the last. you had trusted him, loved him with a fierceness that scared you at times. but he had left you, not just abandoned, but burdened with the weight of his debt—debts you hadn’t even known existed until the collectors came knocking. and as if that betrayal wasn’t enough, he had left you for your best friend. confronting her had been like walking into a nightmare. the hurt in her eyes when you accused her, the way she had looked at you with pity, not guilt. you had expected an apology, a confession that she had made a mistake, but instead, she had stood by him, unwavering. his mother’s arrival had only made things worse, her voice shrill and unforgiving as she berated you, her book club friends nodding along, their eyes filled with judgment. you hadn’t meant to cause a scene, but their anger, their righteousness, had pushed you out, sent you running until you found yourself here, alone.

you took another long drink from the bottle, the alcohol warming your throat as it went down, but leaving a cold emptiness in its wake. the docks had always been your refuge, a place where you could escape the noise of the world, but tonight, even the quiet seemed to mock you. you stared out at the horizon, the lights of the distant city blinking like tiny, indifferent stars, and you wondered how everything had gone so wrong.

a rustle caught your attention, and you glanced to your side. across from you, not too far away, sat a homeless man, his clothes tattered and worn, his face weathered by years of hardship. his eyes, however, were sharp, and they were fixed on the bottle in your hand. he didn’t say anything, just watched you with a mix of curiosity and hunger, and you could see the desire for a drink etched in the lines of his face. you sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of everything that had happened, and without a word, you extended the bottle towards him. he hesitated for a moment, then shuffled closer, his movements slow and deliberate. he took the bottle from your hand with a nod of thanks, but still, neither of you spoke.

the silence stretched between you, thick and impenetrable, as he took a swig from the bottle. you watched him, noting the way his hands trembled slightly as he drank, the way his eyes closed for a brief moment as the alcohol slid down his throat. he settled beside you, the two of you sitting in a shared, unspoken understanding of the night’s loneliness.

“do you ever wish you could sleep for the next hundred years?” you asked suddenly, your voice barely louder than a whisper. the words had slipped out before you could stop them, a quiet admission of the exhaustion that had seeped into your bones. you didn’t expect an answer, and the man didn’t offer one. he continued to stare out at the water, the bottle now resting in his lap, his silence a mirror to your own thoughts.

but you couldn’t stop. the words kept spilling out, each one tugged from the depths of your sorrow. “life is awful,” you continued, your voice cracking with the weight of the truth. “every time i think it’s getting better, it just gets worse. it’s like some cruel joke, this constant cycle of hope and disappointment.” the man didn’t move, didn’t even look at you. his silence was deafening, yet somehow comforting in its neutrality. he wasn’t there to judge or console, just to listen—or maybe, not even that. perhaps he was just a presence, a reminder that you weren’t entirely alone, even if it felt like it.

your voice faltered, and you felt the first sting of tears burning at the corners of your eyes. you tried to hold them back, to swallow the sobs that were building in your chest, but it was useless. the dam broke, and you buried your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking with the force of your cries. the tears were hot against your skin, your sobs muffled as you tucked your head between your knees, trying to make yourself as small as possible, to disappear into the night.

for a long while, the only sound was your crying, the grief pouring out of you in waves. the man remained silent, his gaze now fixed somewhere in the distance, as if he was watching a world that neither of you could see. you didn’t expect him to comfort you, didn’t even want him to. all you needed was to release the pain that had been choking you since everything had fallen apart.

when your tears had subsided into soft, hiccupping breaths, the man shifted beside you. he sighed, a deep, resigned sound, and for the first time, he spoke. his voice was rough, like gravel being dragged across pavement, but there was a quiet wisdom in it, a hard-earned understanding of the world. “life won’t get better just because you want it to,” he said, his words hanging in the cold air between you. he didn’t offer any more than that, no advice or platitudes, just the blunt truth that he had learned over years of hardship.

he stood up slowly, the bottle now empty in his hand, and he moved a few feet away, curling up on the wooden planks with his back to you. you watched as he settled down, pulling a tattered blanket around himself, his body already relaxing into sleep. the conversation was over, and you were left alone again, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a heavy blanket. you stared at the empty spot beside you, where the bottle had rested just moments before, and felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness. life wouldn’t get better just because you wanted it to, but you hadn’t given up wanting, not yet.

you stood on the edge of the docks, the wooden planks beneath your feet creaking softly as you stared out at the water. the sun hung low in the sky, its golden light casting long, warm reflections on the rippling surface of the bay. the distant murmur of the city seemed to fade as your gaze followed the gentle dance of the waves, their rhythmic motion both calming and hypnotic. it was then you heard it—a sudden splash that jolted you from your reverie.

you turned swiftly, eyes scanning the dock for the source of the disturbance. panic gripped you as you spotted a small figure struggling in the water. a little boy, no older than six, flailed desperately, his tiny arms reaching out as he bobbed helplessly. his parents, oblivious to the danger, chatted animatedly on the dock, their laughter ringing hollow in the midst of the growing crisis.

your heart raced, and you glanced over at the homeless man who usually occupied a corner of the docks. he lay slumped against a crate, fast asleep, his tattered coat pulled tightly around him. desperation surged through you as you realized the responsibility of the moment fell squarely on your shoulders. you cursed under your breath, frustration and fear mingling as you pushed yourself into action.

without a second thought, you sprinted toward the edge of the dock. the world seemed to blur around you as you dove into the cold, dark water. the shock of the chill hit you hard, and for a split second, you were enveloped in a freezing embrace. the surface above you shimmered faintly, growing dimmer as you plunged deeper. your limbs cut through the water with urgency, each stroke bringing you closer to the struggling boy.

when you finally reached him, his face was etched with sheer terror, his eyes wide and glassy. you grabbed him firmly, wrapping your arms around his small, shivering body. he clung to you with a vice-like grip, his sobs muffled by the water. you kicked with all your might, pushing upwards, determined to get him to safety. as you breached the surface, the dimming light of the sun cast eerie shadows across the water. you could see the boy’s father now, his face a mask of fear and urgency as he maneuvered a small raft toward you. with a final burst of energy, you managed to get the boy onto the raft. the father, his face etched with gratitude, reached out a hand towards you.

you were about to grasp it when you noticed something strange. the sun, which had been steadily sinking, was now obscured by an enormous, dark shadow. your gaze followed the shadow up, and your breath caught in your throat. the sun was being eclipsed, a celestial body slipping between you and its light. the sky darkened abruptly, the shadow growing ever larger, swallowing the golden hue with an ominous, encroaching blackness.

panic gripped you anew as the raft’s father shouted at you to take his hand. but before you could respond, a strange, powerful force seemed to pull at you from below. the water beneath you churned violently, dragging you down with an insistent, merciless strength. the familiar warmth of the sun’s rays was now a distant memory, replaced by the encroaching darkness. you struggled against the pull, but the force was overwhelming. as you descended, the water around you grew darker and colder. You glanced up one last time, the surface above you now a faint, distant blur. the sun was gone, and the moon seemed to press down on you with an oppressive, unyielding presence.

in the depths of the water, you began to see fleeting, fragmented visions—glimpses of your best friend, their face full of concern; your boyfriend, looking at you with eyes filled with love and worry. these images flickered like memories on the brink of dissolution, fading in and out as you sank deeper and deeper. the darkness enveloped you, the water now a viscous black void. you reached out, but there was nothing to grasp, nothing to hold onto. the last remnants of light slipped away, and with a final, desperate gasp, everything went black.

the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the bustling streets of the goryeo dynasty's capital. a palpable excitement filled the air as the crowd gathered, their murmurs rising to a crescendo as they awaited the arrival of the imperial procession. the cobblestone streets seemed to vibrate with anticipation as the riders galloped in, their horses' hooves striking the ground in rhythmic beats. the crowd parted respectfully, creating a clear path for the approaching figures.

the lead rider, whose face was partially obscured by an ornate mask, exuded an aura of authority. despite the mask, his commanding presence was unmistakable. as he drew closer, the mask was subtly lifted, revealing the sharp features of kim namjoon, the fourth imperial prince of goryeo. his eyes, sharp and discerning, surveyed the crowd with a mix of regality and practiced indifference.

at the palace, the scene was one of a different nature entirely. the atmosphere within the grand palace complex was a blend of opulence and casual domesticity. In the palace's expansive hot springs, a more relaxed environment prevailed. the tenth prince, baekhyun, splashed gleefully in the steaming waters, his laughter echoing off the stone walls. his actions were a far cry from the formalities of court life, displaying a childlike exuberance that was both endearing and mischievous.

beside him, the fourteenth prince, kang daniel, remained close, his presence a constant in baekhyun’s playful antics. daniel’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he engaged in the water games, showing a loyalty and camaraderie that was evident in their every interaction. the water playfully splashed around them, creating a lively contrast to the otherwise serene setting. the third prince, kang chaehee, observed from a slightly elevated edge of the hot springs, a sly scowl playing on his lips. his eyes followed the two princes with an air of calculated disbelief, as though he were silently plotting his next move or simply reveling in their stupidity.

the thirteenth prince, kang younghyun, joined the others with a warm smile, his entrance into the water adding a new layer of mirth to the scene. younghyun’s demeanor was that of a congenial companion, blending effortlessly into the group as he splashed and laughed with baekhyun and daniel.

the eighth prince, kang chwe hansol, watched the scene unfold with a calm and thoughtful expression. his gaze, serene and contemplative, contrasted with the playful energy of the younger princes. hansol’s mind was occupied with matters of the palace and the well-being of its occupants, a duty that seemed to weigh heavily on him. the ninth prince, kang yeosang, also observed from a distance, his face a mask of indifference. his role in the royal family was less pronounced, but his presence was a constant backdrop to the more dominant personalities of his brothers.

as the evening wore on, hansol noted the conspicuous absence of the fourth prince. his brow furrowed slightly in concern. “if namjoon is any later,” he said thoughtfully, “he’ll miss the ritual ceremony.” the ritual itself played a vital role in the dynasty as a whole, a tradition that had gone on for what could have been centuries. its purpose was not only to bring the princes together, but to rid them and the palace of spirits and hexes.

baekhyun, still immersed in the water, nudged daniel playfully. “i heard,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eye, “that namjoon’s been killing people like a wolf. maybe we’ll be next.” he let out a playful howl, imitating a wolf with exaggerated movements. chaehee’s eyes narrowed, and he chided sang with a tone of authority. “quiet, baekhyun. this is all but the time for such nonsense.”

just as baekhyun began to submerge himself deeper into the water, a sudden figure emerged behind him. you gasped for air, your heart pounding as you struggled to catch your breath. the shock of the cold water and the realization of being in such a strange and precarious situation overwhelmed you. your mind raced, trying to make sense of your surroundings.

baekhyun turned around abruptly, his eyes widening in disbelief as he stared at you. “there’s a girl in the water!” he called out in shock, his voice carrying across the hot springs.

the princes froze, their expressions shifting from surprise to confusion as they took in the unexpected sight. before you could fully process the situation, a voice to your left beckoned you. you turned to see a slave girl standing at the edge of the hot springs in the bushes, her eyes darting nervously between you and the assembled princes. she gestured urgently for you to come over and whispered a name that you struggled to understand—“come on, my lady nabi.”

you had no clear idea of what she was saying, but the urgency in her voice compelled you to follow. you moved toward her, the water clinging to you as you emerged from the hot springs, your movements slow and hesitant. the princes watched in stunned silence, their gazes fixed on you. hansol’s eyes widened slightly as he processed the situation. “na…bi?” he murmured softly, his voice barely audible over the rippling water. the name hung in the air, its significance unclear but laden with an unsettling sense of foreboding.

the slave girl, chayeon, moved swiftly and decisively, her demeanor a stark contrast to the chaotic scene unfolding around you. her clothes, though simple and practical, were impeccably clean, and her face wore an expression of stern disapproval. she guided you away from the hot springs, her hands gripping your arm with a firmness that left no room for argument.

“lady nabi, what are you doing here?” she scolded, her voice a sharp whisper that cut through the murmurs of the princes. “you mustn’t be here. how did you end up in the water? this is no place for you!” her words came rapid-fire, her frustration palpable. her eyes scanned you, as if seeking to understand how you had arrived in such a predicament.

as she ushered you away, her scolding continued, though her voice softened slightly. “are you feeling alright now? are you hurt?” her concern, though genuine, was laced with an undercurrent of irritation. the whirlwind of her reprimand left you bewildered, struggling to make sense of your surroundings.

you were still disoriented from the cold shock of the water and the suddenness of the situation. you wondered why chayeon kept addressing you as “lady,” and why you had been dragged into this unfamiliar place. your confusion deepened as you took in the scene before you.

the outdoor pools, set amidst the grand palace grounds, were filled with people clad in elaborate period clothing. their garments were rich with color and intricate designs, the fabrics shimmering in the soft light of the setting sun. the setting was almost idyllic, with the gentle sounds of the water mingling with the low hum of conversation. it struck you with a sense of surrealism—the opulence and the formality of the setting contrasted sharply with the disarray of your predicament.

a growing realization began to dawn on you. the period clothing, the palace surroundings, the way chayeon addressed you—it all seemed to indicate that you had somehow crossed into another realm, a place that bore the hallmarks of the hereafter. the thought was disorienting and unsettling. overwhelmed and unable to process the strange new reality, your vision began to blur. the world around you grew dim, and with a final, desperate gasp, you fainted, collapsing into the comforting embrace of darkness.

the fourth prince made his entrance at the palace gates. his arrival was marked by an imposing presence, the grandeur of his attire and the regal bearing of his posture commanding attention. as he rode through the gates, his lead attendant followed closely, speaking with a tone that was both respectful and cautious.

“your highness,” the attendant said, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “remember to uphold the honor of your adopted family name before the king. after your audience, you will need to return to shinju.” namjoon’s face twisted into a sneer at the mention of his adopted status. his tone was laced with sarcasm as he replied, “ah, yes. i had forgotten that i’m not just an adopted son but a hostage in this palace.”

his demeanor hardened as he rode further into the palace grounds. the vast courtyard stretched out before him, the silence heavy with the weight of his impending actions. he dismounted with a grace that belied the storm brewing within him. his hand moved to his sword, and in a swift, decisive motion, he drew it from its sheath.

the courtyard was filled with startled gasps as namjoon took a swing and, to everyone’s horror, struck his horse. the animal reared up, a cry of pain escaping its throat before collapsing to the ground, lifeless. the suddenness of the act stunned everyone into silence. the scene was one of utter shock, with onlookers frozen in place, their eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and fear.

a soldier stepped forward, his voice trembling as he stuttered, “your highness, you’re not allowed to carry a sword inside the palace.” he extended his hand, a gesture that seemed both hesitant and necessary. namjoon’s expression remained unchanged, his eyes cold and unyielding. without a word, he handed over the sword, the metal gleaming ominously as it was taken from him. the soldier, still visibly shaken, added, “i will prepare a horse for your departure.”

namjoon’s response was delivered with an unyielding finality. “i won’t be going back,” he declared, his voice echoing with a resolve that left no room for further discussion. he wasn’t going back, he wasn’t going to allow himself to return to shinju as a hostage.

the world around you began to coalesce into something more tangible as you slowly regained consciousness. the first thing you noticed was the softness of the bed beneath you. it was an opulent four-poster, draped in rich, dark fabrics that exuded an air of both comfort and grandeur. the room was lit by the soft glow of an oil lamp, and the furnishings, though elegant, felt strangely foreign.

you groaned softly, your head throbbing with an intensity that made it difficult to focus. the pain was sharp and persistent, a constant reminder of the disorienting turn your life had taken. as you attempted to sit up, a woman in traditional attire entered the room, her presence graceful and composed. she had an air of authority about her, and she approached with a concerned expression.

“nabi,” she said, her voice gentle yet firm. the name felt like an intrusion into your fragile state of awareness, and you looked up at her with a mixture of confusion and frustration.

“what do you mean, nabi?” you asked, your voice strained. “i’m (y/n) (l/n).” the declaration felt weak even as you spoke it, and you noticed the woman’s eyes widening in surprise. the woman’s face reflected a mix of shock and disbelief. “you’re not nabi?” she repeated, her tone tinged with uncertainty. her gaze darted between you and the door, as though she were expecting someone else to appear.

realization dawned on you, and a sudden, albeit delirious, laugh escaped your lips. “oh right, i died. i must be dead,” you said with a half-hearted chuckle. the absurdity of the situation hit you again, and your mind raced to piece together the fragments of your memories.

chayeon stepped into the room, her expression a mix of relief and exasperation. “no, you didn’t die,” she clarified. “you had a near miss, and we brought you here for safety.” her words did little to alleviate your confusion, and you blurted out, “i didn’t die?” your sense of reality felt tenuous, and your panic surged.

you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stumbled toward the door, the pounding in your head growing louder with every step. the sight that greeted you outside was both breathtaking and bewildering. you found yourself in a spacious courtyard, surrounded by traditional architecture that spoke of a bygone era. the buildings were constructed with ornate wooden beams, their roofs sweeping gracefully upward in elegant curves. the lush greenery and tranquil garden added to the sense of otherworldly calm.

the unfamiliarity of the scene only heightened your alarm. “where am I?” you wondered aloud, your voice trembling with a mix of anxiety and confusion. you turned back to lady ja, who had followed you out of the room, and pleaded for clarification.

her gaze softened with a mixture of pity and patience. “you are at the residence of the eighth prince, wang chwe hansol, in songak,” she explained. the name rang a distant bell in your memory, but the pieces were still not fitting together. as the words sank in, a realization began to form in your mind. “songak?” you repeated, the name resonating with a sense of historical significance. “is this goryeo?” the question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of historical context.

lady ja nodded, her expression confirming your growing suspicion. “yes,” she said, “the current king is taejo wang geon, the founder of goryeo.” her words struck a chord with you, and the implications of what she was saying began to crystallize.

the recognition hit you like a wave. songak was indeed the old capital city of goryeo. you were not just in a different place but in a different time altogether. the realization was both thrilling and terrifying. you had somehow been transported into the past, into the very era of taejo wang geon’s reign. the weight of the revelation was almost too much to bear. your surroundings, the people, the architecture—all of it was a vivid testament to a historical period you had only known through books and tales. you stood there, trying to come to terms with the fact that you had somehow come into someone else’s body, into a world that was both rich in history and utterly foreign to you.

lady ja’s voice broke through your thoughts. “think hard about where you are,” she urged gently. “this is the residence of prince haneul, and we must ensure that you are properly cared for.” you nodded numbly, your mind still grappling with the enormity of your situation. as you took in the sights of the palace, the historical context of your predicament began to settle into place. the world around you was not merely a fantastical dream but a reality rooted in a time long past.

the throne room of the goryeo palace was a place of imposing grandeur and intricate design. richly adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of historical triumphs, the walls of the room gleamed with polished wood and gold accents. the vast chamber was dominated by the throne itself, a majestic seat of authority, intricately carved and elevated on a dais.

king taejo wang geon presided over the court with a gravity befitting his esteemed position. his regal presence commanded attention, his robes a cascade of deep, rich colors that spoke of both power and tradition. at his side were the six princes, each seated in a manner that reflected their rank and status. however, the fourth prince, namjoon, was notably absent from this gathering, his absence a conspicuous gap in the otherwise well-ordered assembly.

the tension in the room was palpable as an official presented a dead bird, its lifeless form displayed for all to see. the bird had fallen dead after a single bite from the crown prince’s breakfast, an unsettling testament to possible tampering. the sight of the dead creature stirred murmurs of concern among those in attendance.

king taejo's gaze was sharp and unwavering as he addressed the issue. “find the culprit responsible for this heinous act,” he commanded, his voice echoing with the weight of authority. the room fell into a hushed silence as the gravity of the situation sank in.

amidst the tension, jackson wang, a cousin of the king, stepped forward with a calculated expression. his tone was smooth yet insistent. “your majesty,” he began, “i must speak. there are growing concerns about the crown prince, wang taehyung. rumors suggest that he suffers from an incurable disease, and some believe he is unfit to assume the throne.” the words hung in the air, charged with implications. his proposal was audacious, but not without precedent in the power struggles of the royal court. he entreatied taejo to consider dethroning wang taehyung and replacing him with another prince. the notion of replacing the crown prince was met with a mix of surprise and unease from those present.

outside the throne room, crown prince taehyung himself arrived just in time to overhear jackson’s suggestion. his expression was one of barely contained frustration and hurt, his position at the heart of the debate adding to his evident distress. he hesitated at the door, his mind racing as he tried to piece together the gravity of the situation. inside the throne room, king taejo turned his attention to the remaining princes, his gaze probing and expectant. “do any of you agree with wang jackson’s proposal?” he asked, his voice laced with the tension of the moment. “is there anyone among you who would like to see the crown prince replaced?”

the princes exchanged glances, their reactions a mix of anxiety and discomfort. some avoided eye contact, while others looked visibly taken aback by the king’s question. the atmosphere was thick with uncertainty as they weighed their options, each one acutely aware of the delicate nature of the discussion.

the eighth prince was the first to break the silence. with a calm yet resolute demeanor, hansol moved forward and knelt before the king. “your majesty,” he said earnestly, “i beseech you to reconsider these words. there is no one among us who wishes to replace crown prince tae. we are united in our belief that he is the rightful heir.” his plea was followed swiftly by the thirteenth prince, who also approached the throne and knelt. “i too implore you, your majesty, to retract this proposal. crown prince taehyung is our leader, and we support him wholeheartedly.”

third prince chaehee was next to kneel, his actions reflecting the collective sentiment of the princes. his expression was guarded, but his voice carried a sense of urgency as he added his support to the plea. the younger princes, recognizing the shift in the room, followed suit. they too knelt, their voices merging in a unified plea for the king to reconsider. “please, your majesty,” they said in chorus, “do not dismiss crown prince taehyung. he is deserving of his position.”

in the midst of this fervent display of loyalty, king taejo called forth his esteemed astrologer and fortune-reader, choi jisoo. the elderly man, dressed in robes adorned with celestial patterns, approached the throne with a measured step. he began his explanation with a reverent tone, his words flowing with the weight of ancient knowledge. “the stars,” he began, “do not indicate that the crown prince is unfit. instead, they reveal a future filled with promise and stability. the alignment of the stars suggests that crown prince tae is destined to lead with wisdom and strength.”

the king listened intently as he continued to elaborate on the celestial omens, his confidence in the prince’s future unwavering. the explanations of the stars, combined with the united front of the princes, seemed to sway the king’s judgment.

king taejo’s expression softened as he addressed the court. “i have heard your pleas,” he declared. “i reaffirm that crown prince taehyung will take the leading position in the upcoming rites. his position is secure, and he shall fulfill his duties as our future sovereign.” the room erupted into a murmur of relief and approval, but not all were pleased with the outcome. hyun’s expression darkened, a subtle shift in his demeanor betraying his displeasure. his eyes, though fleetingly narrowed, reflected a deep-seated discontent, suggesting that the issue was far from resolved.

in the lavishly adorned quarters of queen jiyoung, the air was filled with an opulent serenity. the queen's residence was a realm of understated luxury, with delicate silks draped over intricately carved wooden screens and the gentle flicker of oil lamps casting soft shadows across the richly decorated walls. the fragrance of jasmine and sandalwood mingled, creating an atmosphere of calm and refinement.

jiyoung, seated gracefully at a low, ornate table, was engaged in conversation with chaehee, her expression one of composed interest. her attire, resplendent in hues of deep purple and gold, emphasized her status and authority. the intricate embroidery on her gown depicted scenes of serene landscapes and mythical creatures, adding to her regal bearing.

“i must admit, chaehee,” she said, her voice smooth yet laced with an edge of surprise, “i didn't expect crown prince taehyung to emerge from this latest crisis unscathed. i had anticipated that his position would be in jeopardy, particularly with the evidence presented against him.”

chaehee, standing by her side with an air of practiced deference, offered a sympathetic smile. “your majesty, it seems the king has decided to keep the crown prince in his position for now. the princes’ pleas and the astrologer’s predictions seem to have swayed him.” her gaze hardened slightly, her fingers drumming lightly on the surface of the table.

a court lady approached with a respectful bow, interrupting their conversation. “your majesty,” she began, her voice tentative, “there is a visitor outside requesting an audience. he has been waiting for some time.” jiyoung’s expression shifted to one of irritation. “a visitor? at this hour? who could it be?” her tone was sharp, revealing her displeasure at the interruption.

the court lady hesitated before responding. “it is your son, prince namjoon, your majesty. he has been waiting outside for your presence.”

jiyoung’s irritation grew palpable. her sons were often seen as pawns in the grand scheme of palace politics, and the timing of this interruption seemed particularly inconvenient. “prince namjoon?” she repeated, her voice tinged with frustration. “i have no time for such distractions right now. tell him to leave. i am not to be disturbed.” the court lady bowed deeply, her face a mask of regret as she turned to deliver the message. “yes, your majesty,” she said, her voice carrying the weight of her duty.

the night descended upon songak with a veil of darkness, its silence broken only by the occasional rustle of the wind against the palace walls. within the confines of your room, the atmosphere was heavy with a sense of desolation and uncertainty. You had locked yourself away, seeking refuge in the solitude of the opulent space, but it offered little solace.

the room was adorned with luxurious fabrics and furnishings, yet the grandeur did little to dispel the turmoil within you. you huddled on the edge of the bed, wrapped in the silken covers but feeling cold and detached. your mind replayed the events of the day with haunting clarity. the dead bird, the tense courtroom, and the disturbing reality of your situation all blended into a nightmarish haze.

as you shivered beneath the covers, you grappled with the reality of your existence. “did i die in the water that day?” you wondered aloud, your voice trembling in the quiet room. the thought that your host body, nabi, might have met the same fate only compounded your anxiety. the idea that you had somehow taken on nabi’s life in this strange, historical world was both disorienting and terrifying.

“am i (y/n) (l/n), or nabi?” you questioned, your voice barely more than a whisper. the realization that you were living someone else’s life was an unsettling one. yet, amidst the confusion, you decided to view this as a stroke of fortune—a new chance at life, albeit in a form you had not anticipated. if you were to continue as nabi, you resolved to make the most of the unexpected opportunity.

the enormity of your predicament loomed over you. despite your determination, you were acutely aware of how little you knew about goryeo. the intricacies of the court, the historical context, and even the line of succession were mysteries to you. you weren’t even sure which king followed taejo. your attempt to guess was a shot in the dark, and you feared it might be embarrassingly wrong. as you sat brooding, the soft murmur of voices reached your ears from outside the door. prince hansol had returned home, and you could hear him speaking with his wife, lady ja. their conversation was laden with concern.

“she was in the water for two hours before resurfacing,” lady ja was saying, her tone filled with worry. “she was like a corpse. we fear she might harm herself.” chayeon’s voice joined the conversation, her words carrying a hint of distress. “she lost her memory. we don’t know what to do.”

the weight of their concern seemed to seep through the walls, intensifying your sense of isolation. lady ja’s anxiety was palpable, and the thought of harming yourself felt like a grim possibility. the fear that you might be beyond help was overwhelming. suddenly, the door to your room was thrust open with a force that startled you. standing in the doorway was hansol, his face etched with a deep concern. his presence was commanding, yet there was a softness in his eyes that belied his authoritative stance.

“please, don’t be scared,” hansol said firmly, his voice cutting through the fog of your confusion. “i brought you here, so i will help you through to the end.”

he extended his hand toward you, his gesture a lifeline in the midst of your turmoil. he brought you there? what exactly did he mean by that? the sight of his outstretched hand seemed to pierce through the haze of your thoughts. you looked at it, feeling a mix of desperation and resolve. the prospect of remaining in this strange new world was daunting, but the notion of giving up was even more so. despite the uncertainty, a new wave of determination surged within you. the realization that you could not go back or change your appearance fueled a newfound resolve to face the challenges ahead. you took a deep breath, gathering your strength, and reached out to grasp his hand.

as your fingers closed around his, a sense of commitment and hope took root. hansol’s grip was firm and reassuring, offering a semblance of stability in the midst of your disorientation. you looked up at him, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. “i trust you,” you said, your voice steady despite the lingering tremor of uncertainty. “’i want to make sense of this life.”

namjoon’s mind drifted back through the fog of time, to a moment of clarity from his childhood. the memory was etched into his mind with a precision that made it feel as though it had happened only yesterday. he was a young boy then, barely old enough to understand the gravity of the world around him. the palace, once a place of warmth and familial affection, had turned cold and unwelcoming. the loss of the crown prince, taejo and jiyoung’s firstborn, had cast a shadow over the entire court. the death had shaken the very foundation of their lives, leaving behind a void that seemed impossible to fill.

jiyoung’s grief was intense, her sorrow a constant, gnawing presence that colored her every interaction. she had been inconsolable, a stark contrast to the determined, almost clinical demeanor of king taejo. the queen’s eyes, once so full of life, were now heavy with an unspoken anguish. her hands, which had once cradled her child with tender care, now trembled with a mix of rage and despair.

in the aftermath of the tragedy, taejo had made a decision that seemed both practical and cold-hearted. he sought to fortify the kingdom’s borders through another marriage, a strategic move intended to bolster alliances and strengthen the realm. the political implications of his choice were clear, but to the grieving queen, they were an affront to her sorrow. as the king prepared to finalize his decision, the palace was awash with tension. jiyoung, her face streaked with tears and resolve, confronted him.

her voice was a strained whisper, laden with desperation. “how can you even consider another marriage?” she demanded. “do you not feel any sadness? is our loss so easily forgotten?” taejo responded with an unsettling calmness. “my decisions are guided by the needs of the kingdom,” he said. “this marriage is necessary for the security of our borders. it’s not a matter of personal grief.”

the queen’s eyes flashed with a dangerous intensity. her hand clenched around a small, ornate dagger, a symbol of her resolve. “you will choose between your marriage and your son,” she declared, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and anguish. she seized namjoon, who stood beside her, and pressed the dagger against his young throat.

the king’s face darkened, a storm of conflicting emotions crossing his features. “this won’t stop my decision,” he warned, his voice edged with a steely resolve. “you cannot use our son as leverage.” the tension in the room reached a breaking point. rhe queen’s grip on the dagger tightened, her face a mask of defiant rage. with a sudden, violent movement, she raised her hand, intent on striking out in her desperation.

taejo acted swiftly, his hand grasping her wrist in a desperate bid to prevent the impending violence. but the queen was resolute, wrenching her arm free from his grasp. in the struggle, the dagger’s blade sliced across namjoon’s young face. the sharp edge cut through flesh, spraying blood in a sudden, horrifying arc. hansol rushed forward in a panic. his eyes widened in horror as he saw the blood seeping from namjoon’s wound, the child’s face contorted in pain and shock. the sight was etched into his memory as he reached out, his own face pale and stricken.

years later, the mask namjoon wore was a constant reminder of that night, a physical manifestation of the emotional scars he carried. the memory of that moment—the struggle, the pain, and the betrayal—was a shadow that lingered in his past, shaping his present in ways both seen and unseen. the mask, more than a protective covering, was a symbol of the emotional wounds that had never truly healed.

as dawn crept over songak, its light filtered gently through the silk curtains of your chamber, casting a soft glow across the opulent furnishings. you emerged from the cocoon of your blankets, your mind still tangled in the disarray of your new reality. chaeyeon arrived promptly to escort you around the grounds, her demeanor a blend of professionalism and sympathy. the palace grounds were a sprawling expanse of beauty and grandeur, with meticulously manicured gardens, serene water features, and stately buildings that spoke of the power and wealth of the dynasty. the scent of blooming flowers and the soft rustle of leaves in the morning breeze created an atmosphere of tranquility.

chaeyeon led you with practiced ease, her steps light and graceful. she spoke with a calm, informative tone, filling you in on the details of your life as nabi. “this is the western garden,” she said, gesturing to a lush area adorned with vibrant flora. “you used to spend a great deal of time here, enjoying the serenity. and over there,” she pointed towards a grand pavilion, “is where you and lady ja often held tea parties.”

you nodded, feigning familiarity with the surroundings. “it’s all starting to come back to me,” you said, though internally you struggled to piece together the fragmented information. the “amnesia” you claimed was a convenient cover for your ignorance, allowing you to absorb details about your new identity without raising suspicion.

chaeyeon’s eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze scrutinizing you with a hint of suspicion. “are you certain you’re not faking your condition?” she asked, her tone laced with concern. “perhaps you had a secret relationship with someone or incurred a debt that might explain your current state.”

the accusation took you aback, and you paused, considering her words. “did nabi have a secret life?” you mused aloud. “was she someone who acted one way in public and another behind closed doors?” chaeyeon’s eyes widened slightly, her suspicion momentarily replaced by concern. “nabi was always so quiet and reserved,” she said, shaking her head. “it’s hard to believe she would have done anything underhanded.”

your tendency to refer to yourself in the third person seemed to convince chaeyeon of your genuine amnesia. she softened her stance, though her gaze remained thoughtful. “if you truly don’t remember, then we’ll have to help you piece together the fragments of your past,” she said, her voice gentler now. you sighed inwardly, recognizing the futility of explaining that you were merely inhabiting someone else’s body. the truth was far too complex to convey, and the best course of action was to continue with the pretense of amnesia.

as you walked alongside her, your gaze fell upon the distant river that meandered through the palace grounds. across it, you could see prince hansol and lady ja enjoying a quiet moment together. hansol’s attention towards his wife was marked by an evident tenderness, his every gesture reflecting a deep affection. curiosity piqued, you asked chaeyeon, “what can you tell me about prince hansol?”

her face lit up with pride as she spoke of him. “prince chwe hansol is truly the finest man in all of goryeo,” she said, her voice brimming with admiration. “he is often regarded as the one who should have been the first prince. his wisdom and kindness are unmatched, and he is deeply loved by all who know him.” you absorbed her words with a mix of relief and contemplation. from your limited historical knowledge, you wondered if he was the prince who later became king gwangjong.

as you continued to observe the serene interaction between hansol and lady ja across the river, you found yourself lost in thought, the quiet affection between the couple stirring something within you. the tranquility of the moment was abruptly shattered by the sharp voice of a woman you hadn’t noticed approaching.

“how dare you stare so rudely?” she snapped, her voice cutting through the calm like a blade. you turned to face the intruder, immediately noting her keen, almost predatory eyes. “being lady ja’s cousin is no excuse for such impropriety.”

before you could respond, chaeyeon quickly bowed low and urgently nudged you to do the same. “princess seulgi,” she whispered in warning, her tone laced with anxiety. princess seulgi, you thought, sizing up the woman before you. her posture was rigid, her gaze unyielding, and her expression one of barely concealed disdain. there was an air of superiority about her, as if she expected the world to bend to her whims. despite chaeyeon’s subtle attempts to pacify the situation, hana’s eyes never left you, narrowing slightly in irritation.

with a voice sweetened by insincerity, she said, “it’s such a shame, nabi, that you seem to have forgotten your manners along with your memory. you could stand to relearn quite a few things, it seems.”

the condescension in her tone was unmistakable, and you felt your irritation bubble to the surface. internally, you grumbled at her haughty attitude, unwilling to be cowed by her status. so, with a bright, wide smile, you met her gaze and replied, “if you dislike me, princess, just say so.” for a moment, silence hung between you, thick with tension. hana’s eyes widened in shock, her sharp tongue momentarily stilled by your audacity. she had likely expected you to cower or apologize, not to confront her so directly.

you continued, your voice steady and firm, “it’s clear you’re the type to bide your time, waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in with criticism. but that doesn’t work with me.” seulgi’s shock quickly morphed into anger, her face flushing with indignation. “you insolent little—” she began, her voice rising as she spat out, “bitch!”

you raised your voice right back, ready to escalate the argument further. but just as the tension reached its peak, a commanding presence interrupted. “enough.” the single word, spoken in a calm yet authoritative tone, immediately silenced the room. you and hana both turned to see hansol approaching, his expression unreadable but his mere presence enough to quell the brewing storm.

he stepped between you and the princess, his gaze settling on you as he urged you to walk with him, toward the library. “nabi,” he began, his voice softening slightly, “it seems you’ve forgotten the proper way to greet a member of the royal family.” you felt a rush of embarrassment as the reality of the situation dawned on you. bowing hurriedly, you tried to recover, offering a modern and awkward, “hello.”

the corner of hansol’s mouth twitched slightly in what could have been amusement, though his expression remained mostly neutral. “i suppose your amnesia means you don’t remember much at all,” he mused, his tone more curious than accusatory. “including whether you’ve peeped on the princes’ bath before or after you lost your memory.” caught off guard by his question, you struggled to form a coherent response, heat rising to your cheeks. “i don’t remember,” you admitted, feeling the weight of his scrutiny.

hansol didn’t press further, his gaze thoughtful as he considered you. “what is it that you want to do with yourself now, nabi?” he asked. there was a sincerity in his tone, as if he genuinely wanted to help you find your place. “i brought you here when you first accompanied lady ja, and i intend to look after you. but i need to know what you wish for your future.” his concern surprised you. you hadn’t expected him to take such an interest, especially given that you were technically a stranger in this body. yet, there was a part of you that wondered why he would go to such lengths, even if you were related to his wife.

determined to assert some control over your situation, you squared your shoulders and said, “i’ll take care of myself, your highness.” the words came out more confidently than you felt, but you were resolved to prove that you weren’t a burden. he seemed taken aback by your response, his brows knitting together slightly in confusion. your modernisms, the casual way you spoke, must have seemed strange to him. “you’ll take care of yourself?” he repeated, as if trying to understand your meaning.

realizing your mistake, you quickly added, “what i mean is, i’ll find a way to live here and be of use. i don’t want to be a burden.” his expression softened again, though a hint of concern lingered. “very well,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “but you must understand that you’re not alone here. we all have roles to play, and we’ll help you find yours.”

as he spoke, he moved around the room, his steps measured and deliberate. you followed him, your eyes tracing the lines of the bookshelves that lined the walls. the library was grand, filled with volumes that spoke of a rich history you barely understood.

“i have many talents,” you blurted out, trying to reassure both him and yourself. “i’ll find a way to make myself useful, i promise.” you nearly ran into him as he stopped abruptly, turning to face you. his closeness made you tense, the air between you charged with a subtle, unspoken tension. he studied you intently, his gaze searching for something in your eyes.

“you seem like someone else,” he observed quietly, the weight of his words sinking deep into your consciousness. you were flustered by his remark, unsure how to respond. but before you could speak, he continued, “it doesn’t matter who you were before, nabi. what matters is how you move forward now.” his words were a comfort, a reminder that while your situation was strange and frightening, you had a chance to shape your own path.

“i won’t ask further about your memory,” he added, his tone gentle. “but you must not worry lady ja any further. she cares deeply for you, and so do i.” you nodded quickly, agreeing to his terms. “i won’t,” you promised, feeling a renewed determination to adapt to this life. with that, he dismissed you, and you ran off, your mind buzzing with everything that had transpired. as you left the library, you couldn’t shake the feeling that hansol saw through you, that he knew there was something fundamentally different about you.

as namjoon roamed the dimly lit library, his fingers traced the spines of countless books that lined the shelves. the scent of old paper and ink hung heavy in the air, a quiet reminder of the knowledge stored within these walls. the books there were far from ordinary, though—jisoo’s collection was infamous for its peculiar and often forbidden contents. namjoon’s sharp eyes quickly zeroed in on a particular shelf, one that seemed to be tucked away more carefully than the others. his lips curled into a smirk as he pulled out a slender, well-worn volume, its cover unassuming save for the faint, faded title that promised scandalous secrets within.

he flipped through the pages, his amusement growing with each explicit passage. lost in the irony, he didn’t notice jisoo’s approach until the man was practically breathing down his neck. “enjoying the collection?” his voice was light, almost teasing. his presence was like a shadow, creeping up without warning, and it made namjoon’s grip tighten on the book.

namjoon didn’t bother to hide the volume he was holding. he met jisoo’s gaze with a lazy smirk. “you’ve got an interesting taste. planning on lending me these?” jisoo’s eyes glittered with amusement, though the smile on his lips was sharp. “if it suits your fancy, i’d be more than happy to let you borrow them. but something tells me you’re not here just for a light read.”

namjoon’s expression hardened, and he snapped the book shut with a decisive clap. “why was i called here?”

jisoo didn’t seem perturbed by the shift in his tone. he folded his arms and leaned back against the nearest shelf, his posture relaxed yet calculating. “the court lady who prepared crown prince taehyung’s breakfast was found hanged this morning. a curious case, given that it’s rather difficult to hang oneself in such a manner.” namjoon’s eyes narrowed. “a suicide, then?”

jisoo shook his head, his gaze darkening. “not quite. a death staged as a suicide, which suggests the involvement of someone who knows their way around the palace. someone with the means to silence her before she could speak.” namjoon’s smirk faded as he absorbed the implications. “you’re suggesting it’s someone within the royal family. perhaps even a prince.”

jisoo nodded, his expression grave. “that’s exactly what i’m suggesting. and you’re the one I want to find the culprit.” namjoon let out a low, humorless laugh. “what am i, a dog now? people keep calling me a wolf, and you must think i’ve actually become one.”

jisoo’s gaze remained steady, unflinching. “you’ve spent years in the shadow of this court, namjoon, watching and learning. no one knows the intrigues here better than you.” he turned away, pacing slowly between the shelves, his thoughts churning. “i’m a hostage, jisoo, not a hound to be sent sniffing out conspiracies.”

jisoo’s voice followed him, cool and measured. “maybe you were. but that display earlier—killing your horse in front of everyone—that wasn’t the act of a hostage. it was the act of a man who no longer wants to live as one.” namjoon halted, his back to jisoo, his fists clenching at his sides. the truth of those words stung, even as they ignited a flicker of something deep within him—a desire for something more, something beyond the chains that had bound him for so long.

he continued, his tone coaxing, “if you fulfill this task, it could be your chance to claim that freedom you’re so desperate for.” namjoon remained silent, weighing the offer. the idea of being free, of no longer living under the constant threat of being used as a pawn, was tempting. but the risk was high, and the stakes higher still. it was then that jisoo dropped the final piece of information, his voice softening almost imperceptibly. “it was crown prince taehyung who requested this investigation.”

namjoon’s breath caught in his throat, and he turned slowly to face jisoo. “taehyung?” he echoed, his voice laced with disbelief. before he could respond, the door to the library creaked open, and tae stepped inside. his presence was commanding, even in the quiet, scholarly atmosphere of the room. he was dressed in the formal robes befitting his station, though there was an air of exhaustion about him, as if the weight of the crown was already pressing down heavily on his shoulders.

“crown prince taehyung.” namjoon bowed his head slightly, though his eyes remained on the prince, searching for answers. taehyung’s expression was calm, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease. “namjoon,” he greeted, his voice steady despite the tension that hung in the air. “i’m glad you’re here.”

jisoo stepped forward, his tone shifting to one of deference. “your highness, i’ve informed him of the situation.” tae nodded, his gaze never leaving namjoon. “there have been whispers of an assassination attempt during the upcoming rites. if those whispers are true, i need someone I can trust to root out the traitor before it’s too late.”

namjoon’s eyes narrowed as he considered the prince’s words. this was more than just palace intrigue—it was a matter of life and death. “and if i succeed?” he asked, his voice low, careful. tae met his gaze squarely, the gravity of the situation reflected in his eyes. “if you find the one responsible, i’ll give you anything you ask for.” namjoon’s heart pounded in his chest as the possibilities raced through his mind. this was his chance—his chance to finally step out from the shadows and take control of his own destiny. but he wasn’t about to make it easy for him.

“anything?” he asked, his voice carrying a note of challenge. taehyung didn’t flinch. “anything.”

namjoon let the silence stretch between them for a moment before he spoke, his voice steady and clear. “i want to live here, permanently.”

taehyung’s eyes widened slightly, the request taking him by surprise. he had expected namjoon to ask for land, titles, perhaps even power. but the capital, along with a wife, that was a different kind of demand altogether. “done,” he said after a moment, his voice firm with resolve. “if you find the culprit, i’ll see to it that you’re granted a permanent residence in songak.”

the ladies of hansol’s household bustled around the courtyard, their nimble fingers busy at work crafting delicate lanterns shaped like flowers. the air was filled with the scent of freshly cut paper and the faint tang of glue, mingling with the laughter and chatter of the women. each one of them worked with a practiced ease, folding and cutting the colored paper with precision to create intricate designs. you, however, were utterly hopeless at it. no matter how hard you tried, your fingers fumbled with the delicate materials, and your lanterns came out misshapen and clumsy.

it wasn’t long before princess seulgi took notice. her sharp eyes caught every flaw, every misstep, and she wasn’t one to let them slide. “it seems your amnesia has taken more from you than just your memory,” she remarked, her tone laced with disdain as she inspected your work. she held up one of your malformed creations with a look of barely concealed disgust. “this is hardly suitable for the rites.”

you bit back a retort, feeling your frustration rise. it was bad enough that you were struggling with those tasks, but having seulgi point out your failures so openly stung even more. still, you were determined to prove yourself, to show that you weren’t as useless as she made you feel. “i can still help,” you insisted, trying to keep the desperation out of your voice.

she raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a mocking smile. “very well,” she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “since you’re so eager to contribute, why don’t you make the glue for us?”

you didn’t miss the challenge in her tone, nor the way the other ladies exchanged glances, their expressions tinged with pity. making glue was a dirty job, often relegated to the lowest servants, but you swallowed your pride and nodded. “i’ll do it,” you replied, trying to sound confident.

the task was every bit as grueling as she had intended. you were sent outside, away from the cool shade of the courtyard, to work under the sun. the thick, sticky mixture of rice flour and water required constant stirring to keep it from burning, and the heat made the air feel heavy and oppressive. your arms ached from the effort, and sweat dripped down your forehead, but you pushed through, determined not to give seulgi the satisfaction of seeing you falter.

at one point, you paused to stretch, your body protesting the repetitive motion. you leaned back, stretching your arms overhead and bending at the waist to relieve the tension in your muscles. the movement was hardly graceful, but you were too focused on easing your discomfort to care. it wasn’t until you straightened up that you noticed hansol standing a short distance away, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. you froze, feeling a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks. the thought of hansol watching you as you contorted yourself in such an ungainly manner made you want to shrink into the ground. quickly, you turned back to the pot of glue, resuming your stirring with renewed vigor. “the princess put me to this task,” you explained, trying to sound nonchalant despite your awkwardness.

hansol’s lips twitched in a barely suppressed smile. “i see you’re demonstrating your many talents,” he said, his tone dry as he echoed your earlier words. you couldn’t help but laugh, despite yourself. “yes, well, i suppose i should have specified that glue-making wasn’t one of them,” you replied, shaking your head at the absurdity of the situation. he chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine. for a moment, the tension between you eased, and you found yourself feeling grateful for his presence. but before you could say more, he was called away by one of the other princes, leaving you to your task once more.

later in the day, the princes gathered to prepare for the upcoming rites, practicing a ceremonial sword dance that required both grace and precision. tenth prince baekhyun was by far the worst at the dance. his movements were stiff, his timing off, and after several failed attempts to keep up with the others, he finally threw down his sword in frustration. “this is pointless,” he muttered, his tone sulky as he stalked off to the side, clearly in no mood to continue.

the other princes paused, taking a break from their practice. ninth prince yeosang, took the opportunity to speak up. “is it true that the king intends to abdicate his throne to crown prince tae after the ceremony?” the question hung in the air, bringing everyone up short. even the most practiced of the princes couldn’t hide their surprise at the boldness of his inquiry. all eyes turned to jisoo, who had been observing the practice from a distance.

jisoo’s expression was unreadable as he responded. “i know nothing of the sort,” he said carefully, his tone giving nothing away. but his non-answer only fueled the tension. hansol frowned at yeosang, his voice low and admonishing. “you were foolish to say that, kwan. the king must not hear such rumors.” third prince chaehee crossed his arms and spoke up. “we’re all curious, hansol. and it’s not yeosang’s fault for asking. besides, jisoo didn’t exactly deny it outright.” the tension among the princes was intense, each of them silently weighing the implications of the question.

exhausted from the day’s work, you decided to rest outside, hoping to clear your mind. as you leaned back against a tree, you noticed a familiar figure walking by, his robes fluttering slightly in the breeze. it was jisoo, the court astrologer—and, you realized with a start, the hobo from the pier. the recognition hit you like a lightning bolt, and without thinking, you leapt to your feet and took off after him.

“wait!” you called, your voice breathless as you darted through the courtyard. jisoo glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing in recognition, and then he began to move faster, slipping through the narrow alleys of the city with practiced ease. you chased after him, your heart pounding in your chest, but he was always just out of reach, his figure disappearing around corners and ducking into shadows. finally, you lost sight of him altogether, standing in the middle of a busy street with no idea where he had gone. the disappointment was bitter, and you were about to turn back when the sound of hooves thundered through the air.

namjoon came riding furiously down the street, his horse galloping at a breakneck pace. villagers dove for cover as he barreled through, his expression set in a fierce scowl. you didn’t see him until the last moment, too distracted by your pursuit of jisoo to notice the danger. by the time you did, it was too late—you froze in the middle of the street, your eyes wide with shock as the horse bore down on you.

a peddler’s pack brushed against you, knocking you backward. you stumbled, arms flailing as you teetered on the edge of the ravine that bordered the street. the ground seemed to drop away beneath you, and you felt the sickening lurch of gravity pulling you down. panic surged through you, your mind racing with the realization that you were about to fall. but just as you began to tip over the edge, a strong hand shot out and grabbed you around the waist, pulling you up with a force that left you breathless. you were yanked into the saddle, your body pressed against namjoon’s as he steadied his horse with a firm grip. for a moment, you could only cling to him, your heart pounding in your chest as the adrenaline coursed through your veins. the world spun around you, the near-fall leaving you shaken and disoriented.

you stared up at namjoon, wide-eyed and breathless, your fingers clinging desperately to his robe as the horse thundered through the city streets. the wind whipped through your hair, your heart still pounding from the near fall into the ravine. for a moment, all you could focus on was the intensity of namjoon’s face—the sharp line of his jaw, the cool indifference in his left eye, the slight frown that seemed permanently etched into his brow. it was as if he held the world at arm’s length, letting nothing and no one touch him. the ride was brief but harrowing. you felt the rhythm of the horse’s hooves beneath you, the power of its muscles as it responded to namjoon’s every command. you wondered, not for the first time, what it would take to unearth a flicker of emotion from him, something other than the stoic mask he wore so effortlessly.

finally, namjoon slowed the horse, bringing it to a halt just outside the palace gates. the sudden stop jolted you from your thoughts, and you blinked up at him, still gripping his robe as if it were a lifeline. his gaze flicked down to you, the barest hint of curiosity in his eyes, before he looked away. without warning, his arm released you, and you found yourself unceremoniously dumped onto the ground. you landed in an undignified heap, the breath knocked out of you as you hit the dirt. for a moment, you could only lie there, staring up at the sky in stunned disbelief.

“what the hell was that for?” you demanded, scrambling to your feet and glaring up at him. you dusted yourself off, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and anger. “you could’ve at least helped me down like a normal person.” namjoon tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable as he regarded you. for a moment, you thought he might apologize—or at the very least, offer an explanation. instead, his lips quirked into a faint, mocking smile.

“perhaps i thought you’d enjoy the challenge,” he replied, his tone infuriatingly calm. you narrowed your eyes, not about to let him off the hook so easily. “you’re impossible, you know that? just because you ride in here like a—”

but before you could finish, namjoon clicked his tongue, and the horse reared up on its hind legs. you stumbled backward, losing your balance as the horse’s hooves pawed the air above you. panic surged through you, and you fell back onto the ground once more, landing with a hard thud. by the time you regained your composure, namjoon had already ridden off, the sound of his horse’s hooves echoing through the streets. you stared after him, fuming, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. he was insufferable, arrogant, and completely out of control.

“lady nabi, are you all right?” you turned to see chaeyeon hurrying toward you, her face etched with concern. she reached out to help you up, her hands warm and steady. “what happened? i saw you with prince namjoon just now.” you sighed, brushing off your clothes once more as you accepted her help. “it’s nothing. just a misunderstanding,” you muttered, trying to sound nonchalant despite your lingering irritation.

chaeyeon gave you a skeptical look but didn’t press further. instead, she glanced over her shoulder, as if worried someone might overhear. “princess seulgi is looking for you,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with urgency. “you should come quickly.”

with a nod, you followed her through the palace grounds, your mind still reeling from the encounter with namjoon. as you walked, she filled you in on the latest developments—apparently, seulgi was currently meeting with her brothers, or at least the six of them who got along. namjoon was noticeably absent, though it was clear from the tension in the air that his presence, or lack thereof, weighed heavily on the gathering.

by the time you reached the small courtyard where the meeting was taking place, you could already hear the low murmur of voices. the princes were discussing something in hushed tones, their expressions serious. as you and chaeyeon approached, you caught snippets of their conversation, the words charged with a sense of foreboding.

“…difficult to get along with him,” one of the princes was saying, his voice tinged with frustration. “he’s moody and unpredictable. it’s like walking on eggshells around him.” you recognized the speaker as tenth prince baekhyun, his youthful face twisted into a pout. his words were met with nods of agreement from the others, though no one seemed willing to voice their thoughts too openly.

just as he opened his mouth to continue, the door to the courtyard slid open with a soft thud. the princes fell silent, their eyes snapping to the entrance as namjoon stepped inside. the tension in the room was heavy, the air thick with unspoken worries. seulgi was the only one who looked pleased to see him, her face lighting up with a smile as she stood to greet him. “namjoon,” she said warmly, moving toward him with a graceful sweep of her robes. “i’m so glad you could join us.”

namjoon offered a polite nod. “it’s good to see you,” he said, though his voice lacked its usual warmth. but before he could say more, chaehee, the third prince, cut in with a smirk. “don’t try too hard with namjoon, brother. he understands the language of beasts better than people.”

the barb hung in the air, and the other princes stiffened, exchanging uneasy glances. even seulgi’s smile faltered slightly, her eyes darting between namjoon and chaehee, as if bracing for the fallout. but namjoon didn’t react as expected. instead, he simply met chaehee’s gaze with a calm, measured look. “ah,” he said softly, his voice as cool as ice, “that’s why i understand my brother’s words so well.”

the room went silent, the tension simmering beneath the surface. even the normally boisterous sang seemed cowed, his earlier bravado evaporating in the face of namjoon’s quiet menace. the princes exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of how to respond. at that moment, the maids entered the courtyard, carrying trays laden with snacks and refreshments. it was also your cue to join the gathering, though you hesitated, doing your best to hang back out of sight. the last thing you wanted was to draw attention to yourself, especially with namjoon’s unnerving presence so close by.

but your attempt to skulk behind a pillar didn’t go unnoticed. baekhyun caught sight of you and immediately zeroed in, his eyes narrowing as he tried to place why you seemed so familiar. “you there!” he called out, his voice ringing through the courtyard as he stepped closer. “i know you from somewhere, don’t I?”

you froze, your heart sinking as his gaze locked onto yours. he was right, of course—you had crossed paths before, but not in any way you wanted to be reminded of. you went cross-eyed in panic, silently praying that he wouldn’t figure it out. but he was nothing if not persistent. his brow furrowed as he racked his brain, and then his eyes lit up with recognition. “wait a minute, weren’t you the peeping tom at the baths?” the words hit you like a ton of bricks, and before you could stop yourself, you blurted out a denial. “no! absolutely not!”

but in your haste to deny the accusation, you stumbled backward, accidentally knocking into a maid carrying a tray. the tray wobbled precariously, and with a horrified gasp, you watched as the plateware went crashing to the ground, shattering into pieces with a deafening clatter. for a moment, the entire courtyard fell into a stunned silence. all eyes were on you—the princes, the maids, even chaeyeon—each one of them staring in varying degrees of shock and disbelief. seulgi’s expression darkened, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene.

“what have you done?” her voice was low and cold, her tone cutting through the air like a knife. “are you truly so incompetent that you can’t even keep out of trouble for a single day?” faced with her anger and a roomful of staring princes, you felt a wave of mortification crash over you. the humiliation was too much to bear, and without thinking, you turned and bolted from the courtyard, your footsteps echoing off the stone walls as you fled. as you ran, you caught a glimpse of namjoon out of the corner of your eye. he was standing off to the side, his expression unreadable as he watched you go. but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, perhaps, or maybe something else entirely.

you ran through the palace corridors, your heart pounding in your chest. slowing your pace, you took a moment to lean against a column, forcing yourself to take deep, steadying breaths. “hang in there,” you whispered to yourself, willing your racing heart to calm. the palace, with its sprawling halls and myriad of secrets, was a dangerous place for someone like you—a place where one wrong move could mean disaster. but you couldn’t let yourself be consumed by fear or anger. you had to stay sharp.

as your breathing evened out, you heard footsteps echoing through the hallway. panic gripped you again as you realized who it was—baekhyun, the tenth prince. he was still convinced he recognized you correctly and was now on the prowl, searching for you. you quickly ducked behind a pillar, watching him from your hiding place. he moved with eagerness, his eyes scanning every nook and cranny as he walked. you bit your lip, hoping he would pass by without noticing you. then, he stopped in front of a door, peering through a small tear in the fabric that covered it.

you tensed, realizing where he was looking. on the other side of that door was chaeyeon, who had no idea she was being watched. baekhyun’s eyes widened with curiosity as he leaned in closer, clearly intrigued by what he was seeing. you felt a surge of anger. it was one thing to be an immature prince, but this—this was crossing a line.

before you could react, chaeyeon suddenly looked up and saw him. her eyes went wide with horror, and she let out a sharp scream that echoed through the hallway. the sound startled baekhyun, and he stumbled back from the door, his face pale with shock. without thinking, he turned and ran, his feet slipping on the polished floor as he tried to make a hasty escape. but he didn’t get far.

you stepped out from your hiding place, planting yourself firmly in his path. your eyes narrowed with determination, you crossed your arms over your chest, blocking his way. sang skidded to a stop, his expression a mixture of guilt and indignation. “what are you doing?” he blurted out, his voice cracking slightly as he tried to regain his composure. “move aside!”

you didn’t budge. “where do you think you’re going, prince baekhyun?” you asked, your voice stern, it almost sounded like a grandmother scolding an errant schoolboy. “you think you can just run off after what you did?”

his eyes darted around, as if looking for an escape route. “i didn’t do anything!” he protested, though his voice lacked conviction. “that slave—she’s lying! she can’t prove anything!” his mouth opened and closed as he fumbled for a response, but you cut him off, taking a step closer to him. “don’t lie, i saw it clearly,” you said, your voice firm. “what you did was wrong, and you need to apologize.”

the prince’s face twisted with a mix of outrage and disbelief. “apologize? to a slave?” he scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. “i’m a prince! i don’t bow to the likes of her—or you, for that matter!” but you didn’t back down. “you may be a prince, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat people like that,” you shot back. “you owe her an apology, and i won’t let you leave until you give it.”

his eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you could see the childish petulance rising in him. he turned on his heel, determined to storm off, but you weren’t about to let him go that easily. you reached out and grabbed the edge of his cloak, pulling him back. “let go of me!” he shouted, trying to shake you off. he shoved you hard, and you stumbled back, crashing to the ground. the impact sent a fresh wave of anger surging through you, and as you sat there, stunned, you decided you’d had enough.

without a second thought, you lunged forward, grabbing him by the ankle and yanking him off balance. he yelped in surprise as he went down, flailing his arms in a futile attempt to stay upright. the two of you hit the ground with a thud, and before he could recover, you pounced on him, grabbing a fistful of his hair. “what are you—?” he began, but his words were cut off as you pulled his head back, your eyes blazing with fury.

“you think you can just shove me around and get away with it?” you growled, your voice low and dangerous. “i don’t care if you’re a prince—i’ll still kick your ass.” he tried to push you off, his hands scrabbling at your arms, but you held on tight, refusing to let go. his struggles only fueled your anger, and before you knew it, the two of you were engaged in a full-on tussle, rolling across the ground in a tangle of limbs.

baekhyun managed to get one arm around your neck, pulling you into a headlock, but you were too fired up to care. you twisted and turned, using every ounce of strength you had to break free. when his grip loosened for just a moment, you sank your teeth into his arm, biting down hard. “ow! you bit me!” he howled, letting go of you in shock. but before he could recover, you kicked him in the side, sending him sprawling onto his back. you didn’t give him a chance to get up. you climbed on top of him, your fists clenched, and started smacking him repeatedly.

“spoiled brat,” you hissed, each word punctuated by a slap. “you think you can do whatever you want, but i won’t let you! you’re a pervert, a peeping tom—” sang flinched with each blow, his hands raised in a feeble attempt to protect his face. “stop! you’re going to regret this!” he shouted, but his words only fueled your rage.

“i’ll regret it?” you spat, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “you’re the one who should be regretting everything. you think i’m going to let you get away with this? not a chance!” his eyes blazed with fury, but there was also a flicker of fear in them. “you won’t escape unscathed, you know that?” he warned, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation.

but you were too caught up in your fury to care. you grabbed him by the collar, pulling him up so that your faces were inches apart. “we’ll see about that,” you hissed, before delivering a final, mighty head-butt. the impact stunned both of you, the force of it reverberating through your skull. baekhyun’s head snapped back, and he let out a pained groan, his eyes glazing over as he struggled to stay conscious. you, too, felt the dizziness wash over you, but you refused to let it show.

with him dazed beneath you, you rolled up your sleeve, ready to deliver a doozy of a slap that would leave a mark. but just as you were about to bring your hand down, a strong grip caught your wrist, stopping you mid-swing. you looked up, startled, and found yourself staring into the amused eyes of namjoon. his hand was wrapped around your wrist, holding it firmly but not painfully. he seemed almost entertained by the sight of you and sang sprawled out on the ground like children caught in a schoolyard brawl.

“what do you think you’re doing?” namjoon asked, his voice calm and composed, but with an undercurrent of amusement that made your blood boil even more. you gaped at him in surprise, struggling to find the words. “i—he—” you stammered, trying to pull your wrist free from his grasp, but namjoon’s hold was unyielding.

before you could say more, baekhyun, still reeling from the head-butt, tried to charge at you, his face twisted in anger. “let me go! she—she attacked me!” he yelled, his voice shaking with indignation. but hansol appeared just in time, stepping between the two of them with a stern expression. “that’s enough, baekhyun,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “there are eyes watching. we can’t afford to make a scene here.”

baekhyun glared at him, his chest heaving with fury, but he knew better than to argue with his elder brother. with a final huff of frustration, he flounced off, storming down the hallway in a fit. namjoon finally released your wrist, and you scrambled to your feet, your heart still pounding from the confrontation. you couldn’t believe what had just happened—the fight, the princes, and now namjoon, standing there with that infuriatingly calm expression.

you narrowed your eyes at him, the anger from before flaring up once more. “and what about you?” you demanded. the anger that had fueled your fight with sang still simmered beneath your skin, and now it was directed entirely at namjoon. “you’re not getting away without an apology.”

his brow arched, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a half-smile. “an apology?” he repeated, as if the concept was entirely foreign to him. “who are you to demand such a thing from me?” you squared your shoulders, refusing to be intimidated. “someone who deserves respect, that’s who,” you shot back. “or do you only apologize to people who share your bloodline? because if that’s the case, then maybe you should start practicing, seeing as you’re on such thin ice with your brothers.”

his eyes darkened at that, the playful glint disappearing as something more dangerous took its place. he stepped closer, towering over you, his presence suddenly more imposing. “so, if you’re a slave, i ignore you,” he murmured, his voice low and deliberate. “but if you were a princess, i’d bow at your feet? is that what you’re saying?”

you held your ground, though your heart was pounding in your chest. “i’m saying respect should be given regardless of status. but clearly, that’s a concept beyond your understanding.” for a moment, there was silence between you, the tension thick in the air. then, without warning, namjoon leaned in, his face inches from yours, his voice dropping to a whisper. “when i do apologize,” he said slowly, each word enunciated with chilling precision, “it means you’ll die.” before you could respond, namjoon turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding in your chest, your mind racing. his words echoed in your ears, the warning clear, but so too was the challenge.

the moon hung low in the sky, casting an ethereal glow over the palace grounds as you made your way to the bathing pools. the path was quiet, the only sounds your footsteps and the occasional rustle of leaves in the night breeze. the stillness of the night mirrored the turmoil within you. the jisoo man you’d seen earlier—was he real, or had your desperate mind conjured him from nothing? it felt like a sign, divine or otherwise, a spark of hope that there was a way to return home. you desperately needed to leave goryeo, especially with the looming punishment for hitting a prince hanging over your head. every step toward the bathing pools solidified your resolve. if there was even the slightest chance that jisoo held the key to your escape, you had to find him.

the pools were a serene sight, surrounded by tall trees that shielded them from the rest of the palace. you hesitated for a moment, peering into the dark waters before slipping into the pool. the water was cool, a refreshing contrast to the heat that had built up in your body from your frantic thoughts. you submerged yourself, holding your breath as long as you could, as if the water could wash away the fear and anxiety knotting in your chest. when you finally emerged, gasping for air, your eyes locked onto a figure standing at the edge of the pool.

namjoon. his mask was off, revealing the multitude of scars crisscrossing his back and torso, alongside the gash on his eye. the moonlight accentuated the lines of his disfigurement, a stark reminder of the pain he must have endured. his gaze was fixed on the still water, lost in thought, until your sudden appearance shattered the silence.

his head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise. for a moment, the two of you were frozen, caught in each other’s gaze. then, in a swift motion, namjoon’s hand flew to his face, covering the scarred eye with a mix of shame and fear. “did you see?” he asked, his voice hesitant, almost childlike in its vulnerability. you could only stare, your mind blank with shock. Tthe sight of his scars, the rawness of his question, rendered you speechless. but his expression darkened at your silence. he stepped closer, and before you could react, his hand shot out, grabbing you by the throat.

“i asked if you saw!” he bellowed, his grip tightening. the suddenness of the attack, coupled with the sheer strength behind it, made your heart race in terror. “please, please,” you gasped, your hands clawing at his arm in a desperate attempt to free yourself. “i won’t say anything! i swear.”

namjoon’s eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of deceit. the intensity of his gaze was suffocating, but you forced yourself to meet it, praying he would believe you. “forget me,” he ordered, his voice low and menacing. “forget what you saw here tonight.” you nodded jerkily, too afraid to do anything else. after what felt like an eternity, he released you, his hand trembling slightly as he backed away. he grabbed his mask and clothes, casting one last look at you before turning on his heel and disappearing into the night.

as he left, a small object fell from his grasp, unnoticed by him in his haste. you waited until you were sure he was gone before approaching the spot where it had landed. it was a hairpin, intricately designed, delicate in its craftsmanship. you picked it up, holding it gingerly in your hand. it was a small thing, but something about it felt significant, as if it held a piece of his story. clutching the hairpin to your chest, you slowly made your way back to the palace. the long walk back gave you time to think, to process everything that had happened. your heart still raced from the encounter, but beneath the fear, there was a growing realization that namjoon wasn’t just the cold, unfeeling prince you had initially taken him for.

by the time you reached the entrance of the household, the entire family was waiting for you outside. their faces were a mix of worry and anger, and your stomach dropped at the sight. “where have you been?” lady ja demanded, stepping forward with an air of authority. her tone was sharp, but the underlying concern was unmistakable. “you left without a word! the whole household has been worried sick.”

the word “family” struck a chord within you, and you blinked in surprise. It was such a simple thing, but hearing it made something inside you shift. you looked around at the faces surrounding you, at the worried expressions of the servants, the stern gaze of lady ja, and something clicked into place.

“I’ve… come home,” you whispered to yourself, the words heavy with realization. and for the first time since you’d arrived in this strange world, it didn’t feel so foreign. you didn’t feel so lost. there was still much you didn’t understand, still so much to figure out, but in that moment, you felt a small, tentative sense of belonging.

queen jinyoung soaked in the warm bath, her body submerged beneath the surface, save for her head resting against the smooth edge of the porcelain tub. steam rose in delicate wisps, curling around her face and obscuring the sharpness of her features. the water was scented with jasmine and lavender, calming scents that usually soothed her nerves. but tonight, they failed to quiet the storm brewing in her mind.

she stared at the ceiling, her thoughts drifting back to the recent conversation she had with her eldest son, chaehee. it had been late at night, the palace shrouded in darkness, when he had come to her chambers. chaehee was always careful, always discreet, and he knew better than to be seen sneaking into his mother’s quarters at such an hour. the candles flickered as he entered, casting his face in a dance of light and shadow, highlighting the tension etched into his brow.

“we can’t wait any longer,” chaehee had said, his voice low and urgent. “the rumors are spreading faster than we anticipated. the court is abuzz with talk that the king may abdicate the throne to tae.”

jinyoung had felt her chest tighten at his words. she had known this day would come, had prepared for it, but the reality of it was still a bitter pill to swallow. taehyung, the crown prince, was favored by the king in ways that none of her sons were. he was seen as the rightful heir, the embodiment of everything the king wished to pass on to the next generation. but jinyoung knew better. taehyung was a threat—a threat to her sons, to their future, to everything she had fought so hard to secure.

“we need to speed things up,” she had murmured, her fingers gripping the armrest of her chair with a white-knuckled intensity. “the upcoming ceremony is our best chance. if we’re going to eliminate tae, it has to be then.” chaehee had nodded, his eyes gleaming with cold determination. “leave it to me, mother. i’ll ensure everything goes according to plan.”

“see that you do,” jinyoung had replied, her voice steely. “we cannot afford any mistakes.”

now, as she lay in the bath, those words echoed in her mind. the plan was set into motion, and there was no turning back. the fate of her sons rested on the success of this plot. her heart pounded with a mixture of anxiety and resolve. if tae were to ascend the throne, her family’s future would be in jeopardy. but if they succeeded—if they succeeded, her sons would finally have the power and recognition they deserved.

she closed her eyes, letting the warm water soothe her aching muscles, but not her troubled thoughts. the image of chaehee’s face, so full of confidence and ruthlessness, stayed with her. she had raised him well, molded him into the man he needed to be in this cutthroat world. but even as she took pride in his ambition, there was a part of her that worried. the stakes were higher than ever, and if they failed—no, she couldn’t think of that. failure was not an option.

the following day, the princes gathered in the training grounds for one final run-through of their sword dance. the air was thick with anticipation, the weight of the upcoming ceremony hanging over them like a shroud. taehyung stood at the front, watching the princes with a critical eye as they practiced the intricate choreography. the dance was a vital part of the ritual, a symbol of the unity and strength of the royal family as they drove out the demons from the palace.

the princes moved in perfect synchronization, their swords slicing through the air with practiced precision. tae couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride as he observed them. despite the tension that often simmered beneath the surface, they were still his blood, and they had trained long and hard for this moment. as they completed the final sequence, tae’s lips curved into a rare smile of approval. “well done,” he praised, his voice carrying over the training grounds. “we’re ready.”

tenth prince baekhyun, panting slightly from exertion, turned to thirteenth prince kyeom with a mischievous grin. “do you think she’ll be here today?” he asked, a hint of eagerness in his tone. daniel smirked, catching the excited glint in baekhyun’s eyes. “who? the one who gave you that lovely black eye?”

the other princes chuckled, and baekhyun’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “it wasn’t like that!” he protested, though his smile betrayed him. “sure it wasn’t,” chaehee drawled, his voice laced with amusement. “you just happened to trip into her fist, is that it?”

the teasing continued, lightening the mood among the brothers. even namjoon allowed himself a small smile at baekhyun’s expense. but as soon as he caught hansol’s gaze on him, that smile faded, replaced by the stoic mask he usually wore. hansol’s eyes were thoughtful, as though he was trying to puzzle out something about namjoon, but he said nothing.

meanwhile, chaehee’s attention was drawn to a line of black-clad men entering the grounds, their faces obscured by demon masks. they were part of the ritual, their role to represent the evil spirits that the royal family would symbolically banish. but to hyun, they were more than just performers. he had chosen them carefully, ensuring that they were loyal to his cause. his eyes flickered with a brief, calculating light as he watched them take their positions.

but chaehee wasn’t the only one with a plan. unbeknownst to him, tae had been working on his own counterplay. the crown prince had always been astute, quick to sense when something was amiss, and he wasn’t blind to the undercurrents of tension surrounding the ceremony. that’s why, in a quiet moment before the ritual began, he sought out namjoon. the exchange of masks was swift, and soon namjoon was clad in the elaborate costume of the crown prince, his face hidden behind a mask that bore the markings of leadership. taehyung donned a simpler outfit, blending in with the other princes as they prepared for the ceremony.

the palace courtyard was packed with onlookers, all eager to witness the grand ritual. the air was thick with the scent of incense, and the rhythmic beat of drums set the tone for the performance. namjoon took the lead position, his presence commanding as he stood at the forefront of the princes. to everyone watching, he was the crown prince, the one who would lead them in driving out the demons.

the ritual began, a carefully choreographed mix of martial arts and dance. namjoon moved with fluid grace, his sword cutting through the air in perfect harmony with the rhythm of the drums. the other princes followed his lead, their movements synchronized as they played their part in the elaborate display. as the dance progressed, the demon-masked men entered the scene, their presence dark and ominous. they advanced toward the princes, their swords drawn, and the real battle began. namjoon took them on with an impressive display of skill, his movements precise and controlled. he danced between them, his sword clashing against theirs in a series of carefully timed strikes.

chaehee, also masked, joined namjoon in the fight, their swords working in tandem as they recited an incantation to drive out the demons. the performance was flawless, a testament to the hours of practice they had put in. but then, something unexpected happened. more masked men appeared, descending from above like shadows. their arrival was sudden and unplanned, and immediately, the king and jisoo knew that something was wrong. the newcomers weren’t part of the ritual—they were assassins.

the atmosphere shifted in an instant, the crowd’s murmurs turning into gasps of alarm as the assassins drew their swords and charged at namjoon. jisoo’s voice rang out, calling for the soldiers to protect the king, and the royal guards surged forward, surrounding the king’s platform. namjoon, still masked and mistaken for the crown prince, found himself at the center of the attack. he fought back with fierce determination, his sword moving in a blur as he defended himself against the onslaught. but the odds were overwhelming, and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t fend them off alone.

hansol was the first to realize that something was amiss. without hesitation, he charged into the fray, his sword flashing as he cut down the attackers. the other princes followed suit, their faces set in grim resolve as they joined the battle. together, they evened the numbers, driving back the assassins with a renewed vigor. chaehee caught sight of one of the demons—the very man he had conspired with. their eyes met through the slits in their masks, and in that brief exchange, a silent understanding passed between them. hyun knew this was the moment he had been waiting for, the moment to strike and make it look like an accident.

with calculated precision, he maneuvered himself closer to namjoon. the sounds of clashing swords and the shouts of the combatants filled the air, masking the tension that thrummed between the two brothers. namjoon was fully engrossed in fending off another attacker when a third made its move. he twisted his sword in a way that seemed unintentional, a misstep in the dance of battle, and his blade sliced across namjoon’s arm.

he gasped as pain seared through him, his sword slipping from his grasp as he staggered backward. the world seemed to slow as he looked down at the wound, blood soaking into the fine fabric of his costume. for a moment, he was disoriented, his mind reeling from the unexpected betrayal. and then, as if on cue, one of the assassins saw his opportunity. the masked figure lunged at him, sword raised for the kill. namjoon, weakened and caught off guard, could do nothing but brace himself for the inevitable.

but at the last possible second, another figure intervened. a masked prince—swift, precise, and unyielding—threw himself between namjoon and the assassin, deflecting the blow with a resounding clash of steel. namjoon barely had time to register what had happened before he was pushed aside, the masked prince taking his place in the fight. the assassin hesitated, momentarily thrown off by the sudden shift, and in that brief hesitation, the masked prince drove his sword through the attacker’s chest. the demon crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

the remaining assassins, sensing that their plan was unraveling, began to retreat. hyun, still masked, barked orders at the soldiers, commanding them to chase down the fleeing attackers. the courtyard was a chaotic whirlwind of movement as the soldiers pursued the assassins, determined to capture them before they could escape. the king, who had been watching the scene unfold with mounting dread, hurried down from his platform the moment the danger had passed. his gaze was frantic as he looked for taehyung, his fear palpable. but when he reached the center of the courtyard, he stopped short, his breath catching in his throat.

the mask had been removed, and instead of tae, he found namjoon standing there, clutching his wounded arm. the realization struck the king like a blow, and for a moment, he was speechless, the words caught in his throat. “where is taehyung?” the king demanded, his voice tight with fear and urgency.

namjoon, already in pain and now reeling from the king’s clear distress, felt a pang in his chest that had nothing to do with his injury. he swallowed hard, the hurt evident in his eyes, as he struggled to find the words to respond. the king’s priority had always been tae, and now, in this moment of crisis, it was clearer than ever.

before namjoon could respond, tae stepped forward, still clad in his simpler attire, but with a regal bearing that could not be mistaken. “i’m here,” he said calmly, though there was a sharpness in his tone that hadn’t been there before. the king’s shoulders sagged in relief, and he immediately moved to embrace tae, his concern for mamjoon seemingly forgotten in the wake of his son’s safety. tae, however, held himself stiffly, his eyes flicking toward namjoon with an unreadable expression.

queen jinyoung, watching from a distance, felt her heart sink as she realized her carefully laid plans had been thwarted. the ceremony had been the perfect opportunity to eliminate taehyung, but now, it was clear that her plot had failed. worse, her eldest son had been implicated in the attempt on namjoon’s life. she knew there would be consequences, and the realization filled her with dread.

namjoon, his face pale from the loss of blood, suddenly spoke, his voice cutting through the tension in the courtyard. “i’ll catch them,” he declared, his tone firm despite his injury. without waiting for permission or acknowledging the pain in his arm, he turned and began to walk away, his steps purposeful and determined.

“namjoon, wait—” taehyung called out, moving to follow, but the king grabbed his arm, holding him back. “no, taehyung,” the king said, his voice filled with urgency. “you can’t go after him. it’s too dangerous.” his eyes flashed with frustration, but he stopped in his tracks, his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword. he watched helplessly as namjoon continued on, his figure growing smaller as he disappeared into the palace corridors.

the city streets blurred past namjoon as he sprinted through the narrow alleys, his focus entirely on the figures moving with alarming speed across the rooftops. the assassins, their dark silhouettes stark against the night sky, seemed to dance effortlessly between the buildings, but namjoon was relentless. his breath came in sharp bursts, each exhale mixing with the cool night air as he pursued them with a single-minded determination.

his boots pounded against the cobblestones, his cloak billowing behind him like a dark specter in the night. the chase led him out of the city and into the dense woods that bordered the outskirts. the trees loomed tall and foreboding, their branches like skeletal fingers reaching out to ensnare the unwary. namjoon’s heart raced, adrenaline pumping as he navigated the underbrush, the moonlight casting eerie shadows across his path.

he finally caught sight of the assassins again, their figures moving with purpose through the trees. his gaze locked onto one of them—a particularly formidable figure—whose sword gleamed ominously in the moonlight. with a burst of speed, he closed the distance, drawing his own sword with a metallic hiss. the confrontation was immediate and intense. the assassin met namjoon’s blade with a skilled parry, the clash of steel echoing through the woods. they circled each other, eyes locked, each strike and counterstrike a testament to their training and resolve. mamjoon’s movements were precise and calculated, each swing of his sword a carefully measured attack. the assassin, equally adept, responded with a series of fluid, almost graceful maneuvers, his own blade a deadly extension of his will. it was his lifeline, it was what his second family taught him to do. the rumor had long swept the palace that namjoon had hunted down every wolf in the area, and he only proved it to be true.

as they fought, you had been wandering through the woods, taking a break from your sightseeing. the peaceful silence of the forest had been disrupted by the sounds of the fierce battle, and curiosity had drawn you further into the woods. the clash of swords was soon replaced by more hushed, but still tense, sounds as you stumbled upon a secluded clearing.

there, hidden behind the trees, you watched in horror as a group of masked assassins gathered around a figure you recognized as prince chaehee. the assassins, their heads bowed in deference, stood in a semi-circle around him. his expression was cold and calculating as he surveyed the group, his eyes gleaming with a ruthless edge. with a wave of his hand, he dismissed the failed assassins, his voice a low murmur of disdain. the air grew tense, and you watched in growing dread as his guards stepped forward. without hesitation, the guards drew their blades and executed the failed assassins. the silent, efficient killings were over before you could fully process what was happening.

you gasped involuntarily, the sound escaping before you could stifle it. the noise was faint, but in the quiet of the night, it was enough. chaehee’s head snapped around, his eyes scanning the shadows for the source of the disturbance. panic surged through you, and you took a step back, trying to retreat quietly. you bolted, stumbling through the underbrush as fast as you could manage. the woods seemed to close in around you, branches snagging at your clothes as you fled.

namjoon had managed to subdue the assassin he was fighting. panting heavily, he pressed the blade of his sword against the assassin’s throat, his eyes cold and unyielding. “tell me who you’re working for,” he demanded, his voice a low growl. the assassin, still reeling from the fight, hesitated. namjoon’s grip was unrelenting, and the assassin’s eyes darted nervously. his eyes flicked towards the trees, sensing that something was off. just as the assassin seemed on the verge of breaking, you burst into the clearing, breathless and disheveled.

“help!” you gasped, staggering towards namjoon. “you don’t understand, i saw—” before you could finish, the assassin saw an opportunity. he grabbed you, holding his sword to your throat with a threatening snarl. namjoon’s eyes widened in shock, his blade momentarily faltering. namjoon’s expression hardened, and he raised his sword, pointing it directly at your face. the cold steel of the blade felt like a chilling weight on your skin, and you could see the glint of the edge as it pressed against your neck.

“please,” you begged, your voice trembling. “just let me go.” namjoon’s smirk was icy and detached. “one woman means nothing to me,” he said, his tone devoid of sympathy. “tell me what i want to know.”

the assassin wavered, his grip on the sword loosening slightly. namjoon’s gaze was steely, his resolve unshaken. he pressed the assassin further, his voice a harsh demand for the name. victory seemed close at hand when you took a desperate measure. with a burst of adrenaline, you bit the assassin’s hand, the sudden pain causing him to stagger back.

the assassin stumbled in fury, moving to strike you again. namjoon’s reaction was swift, but before he could intervene, a dagger flew through the air, embedding itself in the assassin’s head. the figure slumped to the ground, lifeless, as hansol stepped into view. his arrival was dramatic but unwelcome for namjoon. the older prince’s presence was a complication namjoon had not anticipated. his eyes flashed with anger as he turned to confront hansol.

“you ruined everything,” he snapped, his sword still pressed close to your bloody neck, grabbed you roughly, his expression a mixture of frustration and rage. “why did you have to interfere?”

hanaol’s eyes were sharp and unwavering as he faced namjoon. with a flick of his wrist, he drew his sword, pointing it menacingly at his neck. “let her go,” haneul ordered, his voice firm and commanding. namjoon’s gaze met his, and in a swift, fluid motion, he whirled to clash swords with him. the metal of their blades met with a resounding clash, sparks flying as they engaged in a tense duel. the forest seemed to hold its breath as the two princes fought, their movements a deadly ballet of skill and precision.

“why should i?” namjoon spat, his voice laced with frustration. “this woman cost me answers. i won’t let her go until i get what I need.”

the night air was still and heavy as you stood among the trees, the remnants of the chaotic battle echoing in the distance. namjoon’s grip was a vice around your throat, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and disbelief. hansol, standing nearby, observed the scene with a stern expression. “you’re saying you saw a group of assassins being killed?” namjoon’s voice was a harsh whisper, his grip tightening as he tried to extract the truth from you. “by someone’s guards?”

you nodded frantically, trying to catch your breath. “yes, i swear. they were executed. i saw it happen.” namjoon’s eyes narrowed. “show us where.”

you led them through the woods, your heart pounding as you moved swiftly through the darkened paths. the eerie silence that followed was suffocating. when you finally arrived at the spot, the clearing was empty, devoid of any evidence of the massacre you had described. you looked around, your voice trembling. “i swear, it was here. they were killed by guards. i saw it with my own eyes.”

namjoon’s patience snapped. he grabbed you roughly by the neck, his face a mask of fury. “you’re lying,” he growled. “there’s nothing here.” fear surged through you, and you gasped for breath. “i’m not lying!” you pleaded, tears streaming down your face. “i saw it. i swear i did.”

hansol had been the one examining the surroundings. his eyes caught a subtle detail on one of the trees—a patch of blood, faint but unmistakable. “look,” he said, pointing at the stain. “they were definitely here.”

namjoon’s grip on your neck loosened as he turned to inspect the bloody patch. His expression shifted from anger to contemplation. “so whoever killed them is the one who hired them,” he deduced. he turned back to you, his gaze sharp and unrelenting. “what else did you see? who else was there?”

panic gripped you, and you shook your head frantically. “i couldn’t make out the face. It was too dark, too chaotic.” namjoon’s eyes flashed with anger once more. “you’re lying. i know you are. don't you know i'll kill you for it?”

the threat hung in the air like a dark cloud, and your sobs grew louder as the weight of his words sank in. “why are you so cruel?” you cried out, your voice cracking. “what have i done to deserve this?”

he seemed momentarily taken aback by your anguish. his expression softened ever so slightly, but his resolve remained firm. “you’re in my way,” he said coldly. “i need to solve this issue, and if you’re not helping, you’re a liability.”

through your sobs, a memory surfaced—a fleeting image of the killer. you recalled a detail that had seemed strange in the midst of the chaos. “he had fur on him,” you blurted out. “i saw fur. i don’t know whose it was, but there was fur.”

namjoon and hansol exchanged a look of recognition. they knew immediately who the fur might belong to. namjoon’s eyes widened with realization. “if you didn’t see his face, then we’re still dealing with a mystery, but that clue is crucial. i need to find him now.” without another word, he turned and sprinted back towards the city, his figure quickly disappearing into the night. you were left standing in the woods, your body trembling with sobs.

hansol, watching you from a distance, observed your emotional state with a mixture of curiosity and concern. he approached you slowly, his expression softening. despite the gravity of the situation, he found something oddly endearing in your distress. he hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward and gently enveloped you in his arms. his embrace was warm and reassuring, a comforting contrast to the harshness you had just experienced. “it’s okay,” he murmured softly, his voice soothing. “you’ll be alright. i promise.”

you clung to him, your tears soaking into his robes as you wept uncontrollably. hansol’s hand gently stroked your back, shushing you softly. “you did your best,” he said, his tone calming. “just try to stay calm. we’ll figure this out.” as the tears slowly subsided, you could feel haneul’s reassuring presence grounding you, offering a sliver of comfort amidst the turmoil. the night continued to envelop the woods in its dark embrace, but for a moment, in his arms, you felt a fragile sense of security.

you woke to the soft light of dawn filtering through the windows, a gentle warmth settling over you as you stirred from sleep. the sudden clatter of footsteps and the murmur of voices drew you from your dreams. you blinked groggily and found lady ja standing beside your bed, her face etched with concern. “wake up,” she said, her voice a mix of urgency and worry. “i’ve been looking for you. what happened to your neck?”

you touched the tender area where the assassin's blade had grazed you. “it’s nothing,” you assured her, offering a reassuring smile despite the sting. “i’m fine. it’s just a scratch.” she didn’t look entirely convinced but let it go, focusing instead on the bustle around her. the other maids were helping her sort through a collection of old gowns, meticulously folding and packing them.

“what’s all this for?” you asked, observing the activity with curiosity. “it’s for a donation,” lady ja explained, her tone carrying a hint of pride. “the king has these events from time to time, where old clothes are given to those in need. hansol goes to oversee the donations.”

you tilted your head, thinking. “does he go alone?” she nodded, confused. “yes, he usually does. why do you ask?” you shrugged. “i think you should go with him. it’s what husbands and wives do, isn’t it?” her eyes lit up with a soft smile. “is that so?”

you nodded enthusiastically. “of course. and if you want, i could even do your makeup for you. it would be my pleasure.” lady ja’s gratitude was evident in her eyes. “would you really? that would be wonderful.”

“absolutely,” you said, eager to help. you busied yourself with powders, oils, and brushes, working diligently to enhance her features. as you applied the makeup, you apologized for your lack of experience. “i’m not quite used to this yet. i hope it turns out alright.”

she seemed pleasantly surprised as you finished. “you did a marvelous job,” she said, taking the mirror you handed her. her eyes widened in amazement. “you’ve made me look so youthful.” you smiled, feeling a sense of accomplishment. “i’m glad you like it. enjoy yourself today.”

to your surprise, she had other plans. “no, you should come with me. i’d like your company.”

you both ventured out together, joining the others in distributing food to the children. from a distance, hansol observed you with a warm, approving smile. the scene was bustling with activity. you were handing out treats to the eager children when a small altercation caught your attention. one of the boys snatched a treat from his friend’s hand and dashed off, leaving his friend in tears.

without hesitation, you pursued the boy, your heart pounding as you caught up to him. you knelt to his level, pinching his cheek gently. “is it okay to steal from a friend?” you asked softly. the boy shook his head, eyes wide with remorse. “then,” you said with a smile, “how about we make a deal? if you give the treat back, i’ll give you both two each.” the boy’s face brightened as he returned the stolen treat. you handed out the additional treats, and the children’s smiles returned. lady ja watched, her eyes filled with admiration, while hansol’s smile broadened. the scene was one of simple joy, and it seemed to resonate deeply with both of them.

you found chayeon in the corridor, her calm demeanor contrasting sharply with your rising panic. your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve as you approached her. “chayeon,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “what’s the punishment for hitting a prince? is it severe?” she glanced up from her tasks, a hint of discomfort in her eyes. “it’s not something to take lightly,” she said vaguely, her tone evasive. “it could be quite serious.”

before you could probe further, the clatter of footsteps and the sight of two guards alerted you to prince baekhyun’s arrival. he climbed the stairs with an air of authority, his gaze fixed on you.

“you should show more gratitude,” he said as he approached, his tone unexpectedly light. you blinked, confused. “gratitude for what?”

his expression shifted awkwardly. “i had to beg the king to let you go unpunished.” you were taken aback by his unexpected revelation. “why would you do that?”

baekhyun hesitated, unable to find the right words. the silence stretched between you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if his actions stemmed from something more personal. the thought that he might be harboring feelings for you crossed your mind, but he remained tight-lipped. before you could voice your curiosity, you gave a sincere, “thank you.”

you turned to leave, but sang’s voice halted you. “wait,” he called, his tone shifting to something more casual. “you should repay me for this favor.”

you arched an eyebrow. “repay you how?” baekhyun’s gaze softened slightly, though he still maintained his composure. “i want to see you at least once a day, every day.”

a laugh bubbled from your lips, both relieved and amused. “that’s the least i can do,” you said, beginning to walk away. “consider this our first day,” he called after you, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. with a final nod, you walked away, feeling a strange mix of relief and curiosity about the new arrangement.

the night was cloaked in darkness as namjoon raced through the narrow, twisting paths leading to the hidden temple. his breath came in ragged bursts, the cold night air stinging his lungs as he pushed his horse to its limits. the news of the renounced monks taking refuge in an isolated temple had reached him in the midst of the chaos, and he knew he had to act swiftly. the steep, rocky hillside loomed ahead, its shadowed contours barely discernible against the moonlit sky.

the temple was perched precariously at the top of the hill, its ancient stone walls weathered and worn. as he approached, he could see the flickering glow of torches from within the temple's crumbling walls. he dismounted swiftly, drawing his sword as he climbed the final ascent. his mind raced with thoughts of the assassins who had attacked him, their inability to speak striking him as odd. he recalled tales of monks who had their tongues cut out as punishment, their silence a symbol of their penance.

reaching the temple, he found the entrance unguarded, the heavy wooden doors hanging loosely on their hinges. the interior was dimly lit by a few scattered torches, their light casting eerie shadows on the cracked and crumbling walls. the air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and incense, a remnant of long-forgotten rituals. the temple seemed abandoned, but an unsettling sensation of being watched prickled at the back of his neck.

he closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the subtle sounds around him. the rustle of fabric, the faint creak of wooden beams, and the whisper of unseen movements made his senses keenly aware. suddenly, a figure lunged at him from the darkness, a dagger gleaming in the dim light. instinctively, namjoon deflected the attack with his sword, the blade clashing with metal. he spun around, narrowly avoiding a thrust from a spear, and with a swift and decisive motion, cut down the attacker.

the clamor of combat erupted as more figures emerged from the shadows, surrounding namjoon. he fought with a fierce determination, his movements fluid and precise. his sword sliced through the air, each strike calculated and deadly. the attackers were relentless, but namjoon’s skill was unmatched. he dispatched the first wave of opponents with ruthless efficiency, their bodies falling to the ground as he pressed on.

“where is your leader?” he demanded, his voice cold and commanding. when he received no reply, he growled in frustration. “is there no one here who can speak?” a burly man, his face concealed by a demon mask, charged at him. with a practiced swing, namjoon cut the man’s throat, the blood spraying in a grotesque arc. the temple’s interior was now a scene of carnage, the floor slick with blood and littered with the fallen bodies of the monks. namjoon’s sword flashed through the darkness, his movements a deadly dance of precision and power.

the fight was brutal, each clash of steel and every cry of pain adding to the growing chaos. namjoon’s dexterity with both the long sword and short dagger was apparent, his skill honed through years of training and combat. the battle seemed to stretch on endlessly, but namjoon’s resolve never wavered. his efficiency was such that within minutes, the last of the monks lay defeated on the cold stone floor.

the silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the distant crackle of flames. namjoon stood alone amid the carnage, his breath coming in heavy, labored gasps. just then, the doors to a nearby building burst open with a deafening crash, and a lone monk stepped out, his eyes cold and calculating. he bowed to namjoon, his expression inscrutable.

“are you the one responsible for this?” namjoon asked, his voice laced with steel. the monk’s gaze was unwavering. “these men had their tongues removed as punishment for their grave sins,” he said. “i have looked after them.”

namjoon’s face hardened. “then all i have to do is get rid of you.” the monk’s eyes flickered with a hint of something—fear, perhaps. “for whom are you doing this?” he asked. “does your mother know?”

namjoon’s smile was cold and dangerous. “a place of no speech, yet someone here has a lot of words,” he replied. he raised his sword, the blade gleaming in the flickering light. “you’ll die for her sake.” the monk’s defense was swift but ultimately futile. namjoon’s first blow was deflected, but he pressed on with a series of quick, lethal slashes. the monk fell to the ground, the life draining from him as namjoon’s sword pierced his gut. as the man gurgled out his final breaths, namjoon leaned in close, his voice a deadly whisper. “you’ve lived off the queen, so now you die for her.”

with that, namjoon turned and walked away, the weight of his bloody sword heavy in his hand. the temple was already beginning to burn, the flames consuming the ancient structure in a brilliant, destructive blaze. the night was filled with the crackling of fire and the distant wail of sirens as he made his way down the hillside. as he staggered away from the burning temple, the sight of the inferno lighting up the dark sky, he found himself near the palace. his heart pounded with a mix of adrenaline and exhaustion. he needed to confront his mother, to make her understand the cost of her machinations.

in the dead of night, he slipped into the palace unnoticed, his steps silent on the cold marble floors. he made his way through the labyrinthine corridors until he reached queen jiyoung’s chambers. the door was slightly ajar, and he could see the queen sleeping soundly within. without hesitation, namjoon pushed the door open and stepped inside. his bloodied sword still dripping, he approached the bed where his mother lay. queen jiyoung stirred, her eyes opening in shock as she saw the figure looming over her. she shrank back, her face a mask of fear.

namjoon’s smile was a mix of sadness and resolve. “you will remember this night,” he said softly, his voice carrying a bitter edge. “you abandoned me, but i shall not leave. i ask only that you see me.”

the night air was still, heavy with the smoke from the burning temple. namjoon, covered in blood and soot, wandered through the quiet, his mind a tumultuous storm of rage and pain. his steps led him to a small, serene area by a river, where prayer stones were meticulously stacked by mothers who sought divine protection for their children. the sight of these humble offerings, imbued with the hopes and fears of countless families, was like a cruel reminder of the normalcy and peace he had been denied.

with a sudden, violent motion, he lashed out at the prayer stones. his sword, still slick with the blood of the monks, sliced through the air and sent a stack of stones toppling over. they tumbled and scattered across the ground, the delicate balance of their arrangement shattered. his face twisted into a mask of fury as he watched the chaos he had wrought, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps.

you had been trailing on a path of your own, yet his distress and desperation were in reach. as you saw the destruction and the storm of emotions on namjoon's face, you rushed forward to try and stop him. but as you neared, he turned and roughly shoved you away, his strength surprising and painful. you stumbled, barely catching yourself as you fell to the ground. when you looked down, your hands were smeared with the remnants of the toppled stones and, to your horror, the blood that had transferred from his.

hia laughter came out in a jagged burst, a chilling sound that reverberated through the night. “it’s the blood of those i killed today,” he declared, his voice a mix of derision and anguish. he looked at you with a wild, unhinged expression, his eyes alight with a manic energy. the laughter died in his throat as he glared at you, his anger and despair mingling in a volatile mix.

“why do you even care about these prayer stones?” he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty space. “my mother shouldn’t be here praying. she should come to me and beg for mercy instead.”

you tried to hold him back, your voice trembling but resolute. “you’re injured,” you said, hoping to redirect his attention. you meant his hand, which was gripping the sword with a force that must have caused him pain. but instead of heeding your concern, namjoon grabbed you by the collar, his grip tight and unyielding. his eyes, though fierce, held a flicker of surprise at your lack of fear.

“i told you,” he warned, his voice low and intense, “i killed people.” his words hung heavy in the air, and you met his gaze with calm understanding rather than the fear he seemed to expect. you did not flinch or recoil but remained steady, sensing the torment within him.

“i understand,” you said softly. “tell me what happened. why did you do it?”

the vulnerability in your tone seemed to reach him, and for a moment, his fierce grip loosened. he stared at you, confusion and a touch of something like relief crossing his features. he shook his head, as if trying to dispel the emotions swirling within him. “go,” he said, his voice cracking. “you don’t need to be here.”

but you stood firm. “no,” you said. “i understand more than you think. you grew up in a world where wielding a sword was a necessity, where killing was not a choice but a survival tactic. what you did today—what you’ve done—was driven by what you were taught.”

namjoon’s face was a mask of conflicted emotions, his eyes searching yours for judgment or pity. instead, he found only empathy. “but what can you do?” you continued, your voice steady and kind. “what can anyone do in a world like this? you must be feeling so miserable right now. i think i understand.”

his grip on your collar finally released, and you took a step back, giving him space. he remained where he was, his body slumped slightly as if the weight of his actions was beginning to sink in. he stared at the scattered prayer stones, his breathing ragged and uneven. you turned and began to walk away, leaving him to grapple with his grief and anger amidst the ruins of the prayer offerings. the night air was cool against your face, and the distant sounds of the village were muted. as you walked away, you glanced back once, seeing namjoon standing alone in the moonlight, the broken stones a mere reminder of the cost of his struggles.

the punishment for namjoon’s reckless act of burning down the temple had been swift and severe. though his role in thwarting the assassination attempt had earned him some leniency, the king had ordered him to be isolated from the other princes for a time—enough to reflect on his actions and the consequences they might have had. he had fulfilled his promise and did all he could to protect tae, which did not go unnoticed. he was given the right to stay. in fact, he was given the right to stay at the palace, but with rewards came consequences. he was to remain confined to a small, remote building on the palace grounds, away from the eyes of the court and the whispers that followed his every move.

the morning had been uneventful, a silence hanging heavy in the air as namjoon spent his hours alone, the weight of solitude pressing down on him. the palace, so full of life and noise, felt a world away from where he now sat, by the stream that bordered the isolated quarters. the water moved slowly, mirroring his own sluggish thoughts as he stared into the distance, lost in the turmoil of his mind.

inside the palace, the maids were gathered in a small cluster, their voices low but urgent as they debated amongst themselves. “i’m not going,” one of them whispered harshly. “i heard what he did. he’s dangerous.” another shook her head, her hands trembling as she twisted the fabric of her apron. “but someone has to take him his lunch. he hasn’t eaten since yesterday.”

“then you take it,” the first maid retorted, crossing her arms defiantly. “i’m not risking my life.”

“i’ll go.” the maids turned, surprised at the sound of your voice. you stood at the edge of the group, having overheard their conversation as you approached. your expression was calm, resolute, as you looked at the tray of food they were hesitating over. “i’ll take it to him,” you repeated, stepping forward and reaching for the tray. the maids exchanged uneasy glances but made no move to stop you.

“are you sure, my lady?” chaeyeon asked, her voice laced with doubt. “they say he’s not right in the head after what happened.” you met her gaze steadily. “i’m sure.”

with the tray in hand, you made your way to the stream, your footsteps light and measured. the closer you got to namjoon’s solitary retreat, the more you could feel the tension in the air, like the calm before a storm. you found him sitting at the very end of the stream, where the water pooled in a small, quiet basin before continuing its journey downstream. he was alone, as you had expected, his figure tense as he sat with his back to you, staring into the distance.

for a moment, you hesitated, unsure if he had heard you approach. but then you gathered your resolve, stepping forward and setting the tray down on the ground beside him. the sound of the plate touching the stone was a soft, delicate clink that seemed to echo in the silence. “eat while it’s warm,” you said gently, your voice breaking the quiet.

namjoon didn’t respond, didn’t even turn to look at you. his silence was heavy, but you could sense the conflict within him, the battle between pride and despair waging just beneath the surface. you turned to leave, respecting his need for solitude, but as you took a step back, something stopped you. a frown creased your brow, and before you could think better of it, you sat back down beside him. the water flowed softly beside you, a soothing presence amidst the tension.

“i won’t say a word about what i saw,” you said quietly, your eyes fixed on the stream. you didn’t need to elaborate; you both knew what you were referring to—the prayer stones, his confession, the blood on your hands. namjoon finally turned to you, his eyes dark and intense as they searched your face. “i know,” he said, his voice low, almost a murmur.

you tilted your head slightly, studying him. “how do you know? because you’ll kill me if i do?” to your surprise, namjoon’s lips curved into a small, almost incredulous smile. it was the first sign of softness you had seen from him since your encounter by the prayer stones.

“i can’t believe you’re not afraid of me,” he said, a hint of wonder in his tone. there was something vulnerable in the way he looked at you, as if he couldn’t quite understand why you weren’t running from him like the others. you returned his smile, though yours was softer, more reassuring. “why would i be afraid of you?”

namjoon’s gaze faltered, and for a moment, he seemed lost in thought. “you saw me without my mask,” he began, his voice tinged with a sadness that made your heart ache, “you should be afraid of an ugly face like that.” you shook your head, your expression earnest. “i could never be afraid of you,” you said softly, the sincerity in your voice undeniable. “besides, you were never ugly.”

the silence between you was thick with unspoken emotions, the air around you charged with the weight of what wasn’t said. namjoon studied you, as if searching for any hint of deceit in your words, but finding none. then, as if realizing the futility of his own brooding, he released a small sigh. “you should go,” he said, though there was no force behind his words. “this isn’t a place for you.”

you forced yourself to feign seriousness, though your heart ached for him. “eat the food,” you said, trying to bring some normalcy back to the moment. “i have to take the plates back.” his lips twitched into a faint smile, the closest thing to real warmth you had seen from him in a long while. “all right,” he conceded, reaching for the plate. you watched as he began to eat, your heart heavy with the knowledge of his pain, but also with a sense of hope that led him to think that he wasn’t as alone as he felt.

lady ja lay in her bed, her breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps as the illness that had ravaged her body slowly drained the life from her. the once vibrant, commanding presence of the lady of the house was now reduced to a frail figure, barely recognizable beneath layers of quilts. her face, once full of warmth and intelligence, was pale, her skin translucent like fragile porcelain, and her eyes were dull, clouded with the pain she could no longer voice.

beside her, hansol knelt, his tall frame bent low as he held her hand, his fingers trembling slightly as they clasped hers. he had seen her strength, her will to survive, but now all of that was slipping away, and he was powerless to stop it. the room was dim, the soft flicker of candlelight casting long shadows on the walls, as if the darkness itself was encroaching upon her. “my lady, please hold on,” he whispered, his voice thick with the desperation he could no longer contain. he squeezed her hand gently, trying to offer her whatever strength he had left. the weight of what was happening, of what he was about to lose, pressed down on him like an unbearable burden.

lady ja’s lips curled into a weak smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes, as she gazed at him with a mixture of tenderness and resignation. “your highness,” she murmured, her voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the silence of the room. “i know you don’t love me.”

her words struck him worse than a physical blow, and his eyes widened in shock, tears welling up and spilling over before he could stop them. he opened his mouth to protest, to tell her she was wrong, but the words caught in his throat, choking him with their falseness. he couldn’t lie to her, not now, not in those final moments. seeing the truth in his eyes, lady ja’s smile grew sadder, her hand—a mere shadow of its former strength—reached up to brush a stray tear from his cheek. the touch was feather-light, but it burned with the weight of everything left unsaid between them.

“i’ve seen the way you look at her,” she continued, her tone gentle, free of any bitterness or accusation. “i know you’ve grown to care for her.” haneul’s chest tightened painfully, guilt and sorrow warring within him as he struggled to keep his composure. the truth in her words was undeniable, and it tore at him to know that she had been aware of it, even as she lay dying.

“take care of her,” lady ja whispered, her voice growing weaker with each word, as though even speaking was now too great an effort. “If you can, marry her.”

the tears flowed freely now, silent but unrelenting, as hansol held her hand, feeling the life slipping away from her with each passing second. her breathing grew fainter, her chest rising and falling in a barely perceptible rhythm until, finally, it stopped altogether. her eyes fluttered shut, the last remnants of life leaving them as she passed into the silence that awaited her. for a moment, hansol was frozen, his mind struggling to comprehend that she was gone. the room seemed to hold its breath, as if the world itself had paused in reverence of her passing. he leaned over her, pressing her hand to his lips, the weight of his grief pressing him down until it felt as though he might be crushed beneath it.

it was then that you entered the room, returning home after what you had expected to be just another day. you stopped short in the doorway, your eyes landing on the scene before you—lady ja’s lifeless form on the bed, hansol hunched over her, tears staining his cheeks. panic surged through you, a cold, sharp terror that clawed at your chest and left you gasping for breath. the sobs began to tear from your throat uncontrollably, your mind refusing to accept what your eyes were seeing. you stumbled forward, your hands reaching out as if to pull her back from the brink, to undo what had already been done.

hansol turned at the sound of your cries, his expression weary and etched with sorrow, but there was something else there too—a deep, all-consuming sadness that made your heart ache. his voice was quiet, almost a whisper, as he spoke to you. “be quiet,” he said, his tone gentle yet firm, the words laden with a grief that was beyond anything you could imagine. “let’s not wake my wife.”

the absurdity of his request, of the idea that she could be woken, struck you like a physical blow, and for a moment, you stood frozen, staring at him in disbelief. the reality of the situation, the finality of her death, slowly sank in, and the sobs caught in your throat, leaving you breathless and trembling. you collapsed to your knees beside the bed, your hands covering your face as you wept, the sound muffled but filled with a raw, unfiltered pain that echoed through the room. hansol remained by lady ja’s side, his hand still holding hers, as he watched you with a look of profound sorrow. there were no words left to say, nothing that could ease the pain or make the loss any less devastating.

lady ja’s funeral was a somber affair, the sky overcast and heavy with unshed rain, as if the heavens themselves mourned her passing. the courtyard was filled with mourners, all dressed in white, the traditional color of mourning. the air was thick with the scent of incense, its curling tendrils rising like prayers to the gods above, carrying with them the sorrow and grief of those left behind. you stood among the sea of mourners, your heart a leaden weight in your chest, eyes fixed on the simple wooden casket that held lady ja’s body. it was adorned with white lilies, their delicate petals trembling in the light breeze, a cold contrast to the cold, unyielding wood that now encased her. the image of her peaceful face, so serene in death, was etched into your mind, and the tears you had fought so hard to contain began to blur your vision.

beside you, hansol was a figure of quiet devastation. his usually composed demeanor had crumbled in the face of such overwhelming loss. his eyes, red-rimmed and hollow, were fixed on the casket, his hand gripping yours with a desperation that belied his outward composure. you could feel the tremors that ran through him, the silent sobs that shook his frame as he struggled to keep his grief in check. chaeyeon stood on his other side, her small frame trembling with barely restrained emotion. her usually bright eyes were dulled with sorrow, and she clutched a small white flower in her hands, her knuckles white from the intensity of her grip. her gaze never left lady ja’s casket, and you could see the tears streaming down her cheeks, leaving glistening tracks in their wake. she had been so close to her, and now the loss of her was a wound that would take a long time to heal.

the princes had gathered as well, all of them standing in a line of solemnity. each one wore the same expression of respect and sorrow, but there was something different about the thirteenth prince, younghyun. his usually vibrant, youthful face was marred with an anguish that went beyond the collective grief of the others. his hands were clenched tightly at his sides, and you noticed how he seemed to shy away from the others, as though the weight of his emotions was too much to bear.

the ceremony passed in a blur, the priest’s words of blessing and farewell barely registering in your mind. all you could focus on was the sight of lady ja’s casket as it was slowly lowered into the ground, the finality of it hitting you with a force that nearly brought you to your knees. hansol squeezed your hand harder, as though grounding himself through your presence, and you held on just as tightly, a silent promise that you would face this together.

after the ceremony, the crowd began to disperse, each mourner paying their final respects before departing. you saw younghyun slip away from the others, his shoulders hunched, and you felt an urge to follow him. something about the way he carried himself, the way his steps faltered, tugged at your heart, and you couldn’t leave him to his grief alone.

you found him sitting on the stone steps that led to the courtyard, his face buried in his hands. his shoulders shook with the force of his sobs, and you hesitated for a moment before approaching, unsure of what to say. the last thing you wanted was to intrude on his pain, but you couldn’t stand to see him suffer alone.

“your highness,” you called softly, your voice gentle as you took a seat beside him. he didn’t look up, but his sobs quieted slightly, as though your presence alone was enough to offer some small comfort. “what’s the matter?” you asked, keeping your tone soft, hoping to coax him into opening up.

when he finally looked at you, his face was tear-streaked, his eyes red and puffy from crying. “i loved her,” he confessed, his voice breaking on the last word. you nodded, understanding the depth of his pain. “we all did,” you said, your voice filled with the same sorrow that weighed on your heart.

but he shook his head, his expression filled with a sorrow that went deeper than mere grief. “no,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “she was my first love.”

your breath caught in your throat, and you turned to him, your frown deepening in confusion. “why didn’t it work out?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

younghyun let out a bitter, humorless laugh, the sound rough and full of pain. “because hansol had her heart from the start,” he replied, his voice thick with regret. “no matter how hard i tried, no matter how much i loved her, she was always his.” his words struck you like a blow, and you felt your heart ache for him, for the love that he had never been able to claim. he had loved her so deeply, and yet it had never been enough to win her heart.

he turned to you, his gaze filled with a raw vulnerability that made your heart clench. “she said i reminded her of you,” he said, his voice breaking once more. a tear slipped down your cheek, the weight of his words hitting you with a force you hadn’t expected. you reached out, placing a comforting hand on his, and he grasped it desperately, as though it were the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth.

“she would have given you a chance if she had known,” you said softly, your voice filled with the sincerity of your words. you believed that, in another time, another place, lady ja might have seen the love that younghyun held for her, and perhaps things would have been different. he nodded, his grip on your hand tightening for a moment before he released it, letting out a shuddering breath. he was silent for a long time after that, lost in his thoughts, and you stayed beside him, offering what comfort you could with your presence.

eventually, you knew you had to return to hansol’s place, to be there for him in his time of grief. you rose from the steps, giving kyeom one last look of understanding before you turned to leave. as you walked back, your mind heavy with the events of the day, you were suddenly stopped in your tracks when a hand was clamped over your mouth.

panic surged through you, your eyes widening in fear as you screamed, the sound muffled by the hand that held you. you thrashed violently, struggling to break free, but strong arms held you fast, lifting you off your feet. you were thrown onto a horse, the guards surrounding you offering no explanation as they forced you into the saddle. your heart pounded in your chest, terror gripping you as you were carried away, the familiar surroundings of the courtyard disappearing behind you. the ride to the palace was a blur of fear and confusion. you tried to make sense of what was happening, why you were being taken in such a manner, but your mind was too clouded with panic to think clearly.

when you finally arrived, you were still thrashing, your attempts to escape growing more desperate as they dragged you inside. the guards were silent, their faces expressionless as they hauled you into the grand hall where king taejo sat upon his throne, his gaze cold and calculating as he watched your approach. you forced yourself to bow, your mind racing with fear and confusion. “your majesty,” you stammered, struggling to keep your voice steady. “what is it that you needed?”

king taejo rose from his throne, his presence commanding and intimidating. he stepped down from the dais, his gaze never leaving yours as he approached, the weight of his authority pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

“i’m glad you asked,” he said, his voice smooth, almost pleasant, but there was an edge to it that sent a shiver down your spine. you locked eyes with him, your fear growing with each passing second as he came to a stop before you. there was something in his gaze, something dark and possessive, that made your blood run cold.

“you will become my wife tonight,” he declared, his voice firm and unyielding.

the words hit you like a physical blow, your mind reeling in shock and horror. you had never imagined this, never considered that such a fate would befall you. the reality of it crashed down on you, a wave of dread that left you trembling. but there was no escape, no way to refuse. you were trapped, a pawn in the king’s game, and the realization of it was more terrifying than anything you had ever faced before.

✧.*

a/n: this will take a while since this is based on scarlet heart and ts has like 20 episodes

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