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Chapter Text

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Heeseung stood in the grand hall, the weight of his title pressing on his shoulders as he faced his father. The King, dressed in heavy robes adorned with symbols of their kingdom’s power, gazed at him with a mix of frustration and resignation.

“Heeseung,” the King began, his voice carrying the authority of a ruler but the weary tone of a father burdened by expectations. “Jongseong is twenty now. The council is growing restless, and the prophecy still hangs over our heads. We need him to marry. We need him to be king.”

Heeseung’s jaw clenched. He had expected this confrontation, yet it didn’t make it any easier. “Father, I’ve spoken to him. I’ve tried everything I can, but Jongseong... he’s not ready. Pushing him will only make things worse.”

The King’s expression hardened. “Not ready? He’s a prince. His duty is to the kingdom, not to himself.”

“I understand that,” Heeseung replied, his voice laced with frustration. “But Jongseong’s still young. He never wanted any of this, and now we’re asking him to shoulder a crown he never wanted. It will not be easy. And you, of all people, knew how that feels."

The King’s gaze softened momentarily, but he quickly brushed it aside. “This isn’t about what he wants, Heeseung. It’s about what this kingdom needs. The prophecy says you cannot rule; it would bring ruin upon us all. Jongseong is our only hope.”

Heeseung flinched at the mention of the prophecy, the words cutting deeper than any blade. “And I’m reminded of it every day. That my fate is sealed, that I’m nothing but a threat to the kingdom I love.” He looked at his father, his eyes filled with pain. “But what about Jongseong? He doesn’t deserve this. Forcing him into a marriage, into a throne he never wanted... it’s cruel.”

The King’s expression wavered, a rare glimpse of guilt flickering in his eyes. “We all have our burdens, Heeseung. It’s the price we pay for our birthright.”

Heeseung shook his head, his voice lowering, tinged with bitterness. “I won’t pressure him anymore. I can’t. Especially knowing that there’s someone he cares about... someone he could never have because of all this.”

The King frowned. “Someone? Who?”

Heeseung hesitated, knowing he was treading on delicate ground. “It doesn’t matter who, Father. The point is, Jongseong’s heart isn’t in this. He’s already trapped by duty. Forcing him to marry just to fulfill some council’s demands—it’s not fair.”

The King sighed, his hand brushing over the throne’s armrest, a heavy silence filling the space between them. “Fairness is a luxury we cannot afford. If Jongseong is to be king, he must marry. It’s the law.”

Heeseung’s resolve wavered, his voice trembling with unspoken emotions. “And what about what he wants? What about the person he loves? He’s willing to sacrifice everything for this kingdom, but he shouldn’t have to sacrifice his heart too.”

The King turned away, staring out the window at the sprawling kingdom below. “I do not wish to force his hand, Heeseung. But the prophecy leaves us no choice. Our duty is not to ourselves but to our people.”

Heeseung’s shoulders slumped, the weight of the impossible expectations settling once more. “Then maybe it’s time we question what we owe to ourselves. Because forcing Jongseong into this... it will only bring the ruin we’re trying to avoid.”

The King didn’t respond, his silence an acknowledgment of the bitter truth Heeseung had voiced. As Heeseung turned to leave, he glanced back one last time, his heart heavy with the choices that lay ahead. For Jongseong, for the kingdom, and for the prophecy that shadowed them all.

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Jongseong stood just outside his father’s chamber, leaning against the cool stone wall. He had been there for only a few minutes, but it was long enough to hear everything. Heeseung’s voice, laced with frustration and pain, carried through the door, each word piercing Jongseong’s heart. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it seemed impossible to escape the conversations about his fate that always happened just out of his sight.

He straightened up when he heard the heavy door creak open. Heeseung stepped out, his expression clouded, a storm brewing beneath his calm facade. Jongseong tried to shrink back, hiding in the shadows, but Heeseung’s eyes caught his anyway. Guilt flickered between them, unspoken but understood. Heeseung knew Jongseong had heard everything.

“Heeseung hyung,” Jongseong started, his voice softer than he intended, a mix of frustration and sadness. “Don’t. Please.”

Heeseung opened his mouth, trying to find the right words, something comforting to say, but nothing felt right. “Jongseong, I didn’t mean—”

“Do you want to go fishing instead?” Jongseong cut him off, forcing a smile, desperate to shift the conversation away from the suffocating weight of responsibilities. He didn’t want to talk about prophecies, marriages, or crowns. He just wanted a moment of peace.

Heeseung hesitated, the offer tempting, but he shook his head slowly. “I have a lesson soon. But I promise, I’ll meet you at the pond after. Don’t wait too long, alright?”

Jongseong nodded, though his heart sank a little. He watched Heeseung walk away, his brother’s figure retreating down the long corridor, carrying burdens that Jongseong knew all too well. He turned and headed toward the garden, his steps heavy with the weight of the morning’s revelations.

As he neared the garden, Jongseong noticed a commotion by the rose bushes. His personal guard and childhood friend, Jaeyun, stood stiffly in front of the head guard, being scolded for something Jongseong couldn’t quite make out. Jaeyun’s posture was tense, but his expression—complete with wide, pleading eyes—was almost amusing. He always had a way of looking like a kicked puppy when in trouble, a stark contrast to the serious knight he was expected to be.

Jongseong snorted softly, hiding behind one of the horse carriages parked nearby. Watching Jaeyun get scolded like a child brought him a sliver of joy amidst the day’s gloom. When the head guard finally dismissed him, Jaeyun relaxed, brushing the dust off his sleeves as he sighed in relief.

Jongseong stepped out from his hiding spot, grinning as he approached. “Did you lose another duel, or were you caught sneaking snacks from the kitchen again?”

Jaeyun turned, startled, but quickly broke into a smile at the sight of Jongseong. “Your Highness, what brings you to such humble grounds?” he teased, bowing theatrically, though his eyes twinkled with mischief.

Jongseong rolled his eyes, though the playful banter eased the tight knot in his chest. “I saw you getting scolded. What was it about?”

“Nothing important,” Jaeyun shrugged, though Jongseong could tell he was dodging the question. “Just some training mishap. You know how the head guard gets.” He waved it off, clearly wanting to change the subject. “But what about you? Aren’t you supposed to be in some fancy royal meeting?”

Jongseong sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t remind me. I just wanted to escape for a bit. Do you want to go fishing?”

Jaeyun’s eyes lit up immediately. They loved fishing; it was the one activity that made him feel like they were kids again, free of titles and duties. “Fishing? Absolutely!”

Jongseong couldn’t help but smile as he watched Jaeyun bolted toward the storage shed where they kept their fishing gear.

Jaeyun paused, turning back to call out, “Ask the maids to help you change, or else you’ll get mud all over that fancy hanbok. I’m not taking the blame this time!”

Jongseong laughed, feeling a bit of the tension ease from his shoulders. It was moments like this—with Jaeyun’s unwavering enthusiasm—that reminded him there were still small joys to be found, even in the shadow of a throne he never asked for.

He headed toward his room, letting the prospect of a quiet afternoon by the pond with his best friend be the escape he desperately needed.

Jongseong emerged from his chambers dressed in a simpler hanbok, far removed from the elaborate attire expected of a princeㅡ the future King. The top was a soft grey, devoid of the usual intricate embroidery, and loosely tied at the waist with a simple sash. The wide sleeves hung comfortably, and instead of the traditional billowing robes, he wore fitted pants that allowed for easier movement. The outfit made him look less like a prince and more like any young noble enjoying a quiet day away from court.

As he walked through the horse stables, Jaeyun, his personal guard, noticed him and raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise flashing across his face. Jaeyun stood by the stable entrance, fishing rods in hand, already assuming they’d be headed to the pond within the castle grounds.

“You look… less princely today,” Jaeyun remarked, his tone teasing but laced with genuine curiosity. “Not exactly what I expected for our little fishing trip.”

Jongseong smirked slightly, glancing at the rods Jaeyun held. “We’re not going to the castle pond.”

Jaeyun’s expression shifted, understanding immediately that Jongseong had something else in mind. But as a guard bound by dutyㅡ or more like Jongseong's friend, he simply nodded and began preparing the horses without another word. He knew better than to question the prince when he was in one of his moods.

Once the horses were saddled, they rode out in silence, slipping through the back paths of the castle, past towering trees that concealed them from the watchful eyes of the palace guards. They rode on until the thick foliage opened up to the sound of crashing waves and the scent of saltwater—the secluded stretch of shore where they had come many times before to escape their royal confines.

They dismounted quietly, each man lost in his own thoughts as they set up to fish. Jongseong planted his fishing rod in the sand, barely paying attention as he pulled out a book, using the quiet of the sea as a backdrop to his reading.

Jaeyun, meanwhile, rummaged through his pack, pulling out a small pouch of biscuits and munching loudly, his occasional sighs of boredom punctuating the otherwise peaceful scene.

Jaeyun offered Jongseong a biscuit, but the prince shook his head, his eyes still fixed on the pages. The moments stretched, and Jaeyun’s restlessness became more pronounced.

“This is boring,” Jaeyun groaned, shifting on the rocks as he fiddled with his fishing line. “You're not talking at all. How can you just sit there and read? We’ve been here for ages.”

Jongseong glanced up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You were the one most excited about fishing, and now you’re the one complaining. No wonder you never catch anything—you’re too impatient.”

Jaeyun huffed, tossing a pebble into the water in defiance. “Well, at least I’m not boring everyone around me. That’s why Prince Jungwon doesn’t visit as much, you know. He thinks your company’s a snooze fest.”

Jongseong’s smile faded, his gaze returning to the horizon. “I know. I’ve been… distracted lately. I didn’t want to drag Jungwon into all of this when I can’t even pull myself out of it.”

Jaeyun looked at Jongseong, his expression softening. “What’s going on, Jongseong? You’ve been like this for weeks.”

Jongseong hesitated, setting his book aside as he leaned back on his hands, staring out at the waves. “It’s about the coronation. My father’s plans for me… to marry.”

Jaeyun’s posture stiffened, his hand pausing mid-bite as he stared at Jongseong. The unspoken weight of the situation hung between them. “Who are you supposed to marry?”

Jongseong didn’t respond, his silence loud enough to convey everything he couldn’t say. Jaeyun already knew—the quiet admission of what Jongseong felt for someone who wasn’t a princess from a faraway land. The prospect of marriage, of being forced into a union that had nothing to do with love, was just another chain binding Jongseong to a fate he didn’t choose.

Jaeyun glanced away, a mix of frustration and helplessness flickering in his eyes. “You don’t want this. I can see it. So why—”

“It’s not about what I want,” Jongseong interrupted softly, his voice tinged with resignation. “It’s about what the kingdom needs. And right now, they need a king, even if it means I have to marry someone I don’t love.”

Jaeyun nodded slowly. He knew Jongseong better than anyone—the hopes and dreams he buried beneath the weight of his title. But here, with nothing but the sea and a few idle fishing lines between them, all they could do was share the silence.

Jongseong was grateful that Jaeyun hadn’t pressed further. The heaviness of the earlier conversation still lingered, but at least he didn’t have to say more. After reading exactly ten pages of his book, Jongseong decided to get up, his fishing rod still untouched by any sign of fish. He nudged Jaeyun, who was dozing off, startling him awake.

“Get up,” Jongseong said, brushing off the sand from his clothes. “We’re going somewhere else.”

Jaeyun groaned, already guessing their next destination. He sighed but obliged, packing up their fishing gear without complaint.

They mounted their horses again, riding silently through the forest, the canopy above casting shifting shadows over their path. They emerged from the dense woods and rode down the winding roads that led to the bustling city beyond the castle walls.

As they neared the market entrance, a kingdom guard stationed there caught sight of them and visibly tensed. The guard knew the consequences of Prince Jongseong’s unsanctioned visits to the city; the prince’s frequent appearances were enough to send everyone on edge, but the guard could do nothing but hold the reins of their horses and turn a blind eye, praying the palace wouldn’t find out.

Jongseong wrapped a black silk cloth around the lower half of his face, hiding his features from curious onlookers. They walked through the market, weaving between stalls filled with merchants selling their wares.

It was the heart of the city, vibrant and alive with the sounds of traders calling out their prices and children playing in the streets. There were carts filled with fresh vegetables, barrels of fish, and stalls selling colorful fabrics and trinkets.

Jongseong kept his head down, slipping unnoticed through the crowd with Jaeyun trailing close behind, ever watchful. They finally stopped at a small, unassuming shop nestled between other wooden houses. A sign, painted with delicate flowers, hung above the door, marking it as the flower shop. Jongseong turned to Jaeyun.

“Wait here,” Jongseong instructed, his voice low, and without waiting for a response, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The interior of the shop was a world apart from the chaos of the market. Everything inside was pastel and calming, with light wooden walls that gave the space a soft, serene glow. Flowers in every shade imaginable filled the room as sunlight streamed in through a small window, roses, lilies, chrysanthemums, all carefully arranged in vases, their delicate scents mingling in the air. Pots hung from the ceiling, vines trailing down like gentle curtains.

Jongseong’s eyes settled on Sunghoon, the florist, who was hunched over a pot, carefully watering a small, blooming plant.

Jongseong cleared his throat to announce his presence, and Sunghoon turned, his expression shifting quickly from mild surprise to a mix of annoyance and exasperation. He hurriedly finished what he was doing and moved behind the counter, trying to compose himself.

Sunghoon was about to ask how he could help when his gaze landed on Jongseong, recognizing him instantly. His shoulders sagged, and a scowl tugged at his lips. “You again,” he said, his tone flat. “What excuse does the kingdom’s prince have for showing up at my shop this time?”

Jongseong ignored the pointed question, his eyes fixed on Sunghoon, taking in the sight of him. Sunghoon was always like this—prickly and guarded, but there was something in his stubbornness that Jongseong found endearing.

He didn’t mind the florist’s cold demeanor; in fact, he found it oddly refreshing compared to the polished smiles he was accustomed to at the palace.

“Sunghoon,” Jongseong said softly, his voice tinged with a rare vulnerability, hoping it might soften Sunghoon’s mood, though he knew better than to expect it.

Sunghoon crossed his arms, arching an eyebrow. “What do you want, your highness? Flowers again? Or just another excuse to sneak away from your royal duties?”

Jongseong didn’t answer right away, his gaze lingering on Sunghoon’s sharp eyes and the way the light played against his delicate features. But the florist’s patience was thin, and after a moment, Sunghoon rapped his fingers on the glass counter, snapping Jongseong out of his reverie.

“Will you marry me?” Jongseong blurted, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

Sunghoon froze, eyes widening, the irritation momentarily replaced by shock. He stared at Jongseong, mouth slightly agape, trying to process what he’d just heard. The air between them felt heavy, the sweet floral scent around them almost suffocating in the sudden stillness.

Jongseong held his breath, watching as Sunghoon’s expression shifted from surprise to something more unreadable—something that held a mix of disbelief, confusion, and perhaps a trace of something Jongseong desperately hoped was not outright rejection.

He hadn’t planned on saying it, not when he barely knew Sunghoon beyond the occasional visits to the flower shop. They weren’t friends, not even close to being acquaintances, and now Jongseong’s impulsive declaration hung between them, a reckless gamble that had clearly backfired.

Sunghoon’s face was a storm of shock and irritation, and Jongseong could feel his own heart constricting painfully in his chest.

“A-Are you crazy?” Sunghoon’s voice was strained, teetering between disbelief and annoyance.

“Sunghoon, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” Jongseong tried to backtrack, but the damage was done.

“Get out,” Sunghoon snapped, his tone icy and unyielding.

Jongseong stepped forward, desperate to salvage what little was left of their fragile connection. “Sunghoon, please—”

“I said get out!” Sunghoon’s voice rose, cutting through the serene ambiance of the shop. “And don’t come back here anymore.”

Jongseong watched, heart heavy, as Sunghoon turned his back on him, retreating to his flowers as if Jongseong’s presence was nothing more than a bother. The prince lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on the florist’s tense silhouette, before finally conceding.

With a quiet sigh, he turned and left the shop, feeling the weight of Sunghoon’s rejection like an anchor pulling him down.

Outside, Jaeyun was waiting, leaning casually against the shop’s outer wall. He noticed the forlorn expression on Jongseong’s face as the prince approached but said nothing, simply handing him the reins of his horse.

They rode back in silence, the rhythmic clatter of hooves on the dirt road echoing the hollow ache in Jongseong’s chest. Jaeyun, sensing something was wrong, stole glances at Jongseong, but the prince’s downcast eyes and tight-lipped demeanor made it clear he wasn’t in the mood to talk.

When they arrived back at the palace, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows over the grand walls. Jongseong dismounted stiffly, exhaustion settling in his bones, and made his way up the stone steps, his mind swirling with the events of the day.

As he reached the base of the Grand Hall, he found Heeseung waiting, dressed in the simpler clothes they often wore when sneaking out of the palace. Heeseung had kept his promise, finishing his lesson early to join Jongseong for their fishing trip. But now, the sight of his brother filled Jongseong with a guilt he couldn’t quite shake.

“Where did you go—” Heeseung began, his tone light but concerned.

Jongseong cut him off abruptly, not wanting to talk about the day or the rejection that still stung. “I just… I want to rest, Hyung. We can talk later.”

Heeseung’s eyes softened, reading the exhaustion on Jongseong’s face. He nodded, understanding, though he watched his brother’s retreating figure with a mix of worry and helplessness.

Later that night, after dinner, Jongseong found himself pacing the halls, unable to shake the bitter taste of rejection. It wasn’t just Sunghoon’s harsh words; it was everything—the weight of the crown, the pressure to marry, the looming coronation.

He finally worked up the nerve to knock on Heeseung’s door, his brother’s room dimly lit by the soft glow of lanterns.

Heeseung looked up from his desk, where he’d been reading over some documents, and smiled gently. “Jongseong, come in.”

Jongseong stepped inside, closing the door behind him. For a moment, they just stood there, the unspoken tension hanging in the air. Heeseung motioned for Jongseong to sit, but the younger prince remained standing, his thoughts a tangled mess.

“What happened today?” Heeseung asked quietly, sensing the turmoil in his brother’s eyes.

Jongseong let out a deep sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I made a mess of things,” he admitted, his voice heavy with regret. “I asked Sunghoon to marry me.”

Heeseung blinked, taken aback. He hadn’t expected that, not from Jongseong, who was usually so careful, so guarded with his emotions. “And what did he say?”

Jongseong laughed bitterly, a hollow sound that echoed in the quiet room. “He told me to leave. And never come back.”

Heeseung’s heart sank, not just for Jongseong but for the impossible situation they were both trapped in. “Jongseong… I’m sorry.”

Jongseong shook his head, feeling the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He hated how vulnerable he felt, how lost. “I just… I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to marry some princess I don’t know, I don’t want to be king. And Sunghoon—he hates me.”

Heeseung stood, crossing the room to place a comforting hand on Jongseong’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll find a way, I promise.”

Jongseong nodded, though his heart still ached. In that quiet moment, the two brothers stood together, united in their shared burdens, each knowing that the road ahead was fraught with uncertainty but clinging to the hope that somehow, they would find their way through it together.

Jongseong was known throughout the kingdom as the stubborn prince—impulsive, temperamental, and still clinging to the whims of youth. Heeseung, his older brother, was his opposite in every way: composed, intelligent, and infinitely patient. It baffled Jongseong that the prophets, revered by the kingdom, had declared that Heeseung’s rule would bring ruin.

The people treated their every word as truth, which Jongseong found laughable, but their influence had already shaped his family's fate.

Still, it was Jongseong’s stubbornness that brought him back to the city market, defying every royal protocol. He found himself once more in front of the small floral shop, the only place that felt miles away from the pressures of the palace. As he stepped inside, Sunghoon, greeted him with his usual disdain.

“What’s the prince doing here again? Surely not to ask a florist to marry him, right?” Sunghoon’s voice was dry, his gaze unimpressed as he leaned against the counter.

Jongseong couldn’t help but smile. Sunghoon wasn’t chasing him out like he had yesterday, and whether it was out of courtesy or habit, Jongseong didn’t mind. He studied Sunghoon’s appearance, noting the purple hanbok that he rarely wore—it contrasted beautifully against his pale skin, making him look almost ethereal.

Jongseong, ever the provocateur, grinned and teased, “Now that I think about it, you never actually said no.” He enjoyed the way Sunghoon’s expression tightened, the florist’s irritation evident. But before Sunghoon could snap at him to leave, Jongseong raised a hand, his voice softening. “Relax. I’m just here to buy flowers.”

Sunghoon sighed, the tension easing from his shoulders as he folded his arms. “What flowers do you want this time, Your Highness?”

Jongseong glanced around the shop, pretending to deliberate. “The prettiest ones, of course.”

“All the flowers here are pretty,” Sunghoon replied flatly, his annoyance barely concealed. “If you can’t choose, you can just buy them all.”

Jongseong chuckled and nodded. “Fine. I’ll take everything.”

Sunghoon’s exasperated sigh echoed through the shop, and he shook his head, realizing Jongseong’s stubbornness wasn’t just for show. “How about the Dahlias and Lotuses? They’re fresh from this morning.”

Jongseong accepted the suggestion with an easy smile, watching Sunghoon wrap the delicate blooms with careful hands. When Jongseong handed over a small fortune in gold coins, far more than the flowers were worth, Sunghoon’s brows knitted together in disapproval.

“This is too much,” Sunghoon said, pushing the pouch back across the counter. “Take your change.”

Jongseong tried to protest, but Sunghoon was firm, counting out just enough to cover the flowers and shoving the rest back into Jongseong’s hands. “I don’t need more than what these are worth,” Sunghoon said, his tone resolute.

As Jongseong clutch the flowers tightly, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of longing. Sunghoon’s world, with its quiet simplicity, was everything Jongseong’s life was not—uncomplicated, honest, and stubbornly resistant to his charms. But it was also the one place Jongseong could be himself, even if just for a moment.

He was the prince who couldn’t be king, caught between duty and desire, and no amount of gold or stubborn persistence could bridge that divide. But for now, he’d keep coming back, drawn to the flowers, the shop, and the florist who, no matter how much he pushed Jongseong away, was the closest thing to peace he had ever known.

Jongseong took the pouch of gold from Sunghoon, but before he could respond, a loud crash shattered the calm of the shop. Jongseong’s reflexes kicked in as he rushed behind the counter, drawing his sword in front of Sunghoon, shielding him instinctively. At the same moment, Jaeyun burst through the door, sword drawn and ready.

“Who are you?” Jongseong demanded, his voice sharp.

“What’s going on?” Jaeyun asked, his stance mirroring Jongseong’s, ready to strike.

“Niki!” Sunghoon’s voice rang out, sharp and concerned. The boy who had barged in—tall, lanky, and visibly panicked—stared at them with wide eyes, his hands raised in surrender.

“Niki!” Sunghoon repeated, his voice more urgent, and he hurried past Jongseong, pushing his sword down. “Put those away,” he snapped at Jongseong and Jaeyun. “You’re scaring him.”

Jongseong, still on edge, hesitated before slowly lowering his weapon. Sunghoon moved swiftly, fetching a cup of water and bringing it to the trembling boy. Jongseong watched carefully, his eyes tracking every movement as Sunghoon handed the drink to Niki, who took it with shaking hands.

But when Niki’s fingers brushed against Sunghoon’s, Jongseong’s instincts flared up again, his grip tightening on his sword. Sunghoon shot him a warning look. “Enough, Jongseong. You’re frightening him.”

Jongseong nodded stiffly, sheathing his sword but not entirely relaxing.

The boy, Niki, still catching his breath, finally glanced at Jongseong with wide, startled eyes. “He...he’s the prince,” Niki stammered, clearly recognizing Jongseong now.

Jongseong acknowledged with a brief nod, but his confusion only deepened. His gaze shifted between Niki and Sunghoon, noticing their hands still lightly touching, fingers intertwined around the glass.

“Who is he?” Jongseong asked, his voice softer but laced with lingering suspicion.

Sunghoon glanced at Niki, and the boy opened his mouth to speak. “I’m Sunghoon’s—”

“Family,” Sunghoon cut in, his voice firm, though Niki blurted, “Partner,” at the same time. Jongseong’s brow arched at the contradiction, curiosity piqued.

Sunghoon let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before explaining, “Niki is my childhood friend. He helps me gather flowers from the mountains. That’s all.”

Niki nodded, taking a sip of water before meeting Sunghoon’s worried eyes. “I was gathering flowers, but hunters in the mountains chased me down,” he said, his voice still shaky. “I barely got away.”

Sunghoon’s face tightened with concern as he gently squeezed Niki’s shoulder. “You need to be more careful,” he murmured, his tone gentle yet firm.

Jongseong watched, feeling a strange mix of emotions—relief that Niki was not a threat, but also something else he couldn’t quite name as he observed the closeness between Sunghoon and the boy.

Jongseong, still unsure of his place in this scene, took a step back, letting the tension drain from his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said to Niki, though his eyes remained on Sunghoon, silently apologizing.

Sunghoon nodded, a hint of understanding softening his usually guarded expression. “Just...be less quick to draw your sword next time,” he said, though his words carried no malice.

Jongseong nodded, feeling the sting of Sunghoon’s quiet rebuke but grateful for the florist’s forgiveness. He watched as Sunghoon fussed over Niki, and for the first time, Jongseong felt like he was seeing Sunghoon’s world—a world where every person, every bond, was fiercely protected. And it was a world Jongseong found himself wanting to understand, despite how far removed it felt from his own.

Jongseong kept his eyes fixed on Sunghoon and Niki, feeling a strange unease watching their quiet closeness.

As Niki finally composed himself, he bowed deeply toward Jongseong, his voice trembling with guilt. “I’m sorry for causing trouble, Your Highness.”

Before Jongseong could respond, Sunghoon interjected, his tone firm but gentle. “There’s nothing for you to apologize for, Niki.”

Jongseong cleared his throat, redirecting his gaze to Niki. “The hunters have no right to be chasing anyone, especially not a young boy,” Jongseong said, but his words were directed at Sunghoon, almost as if seeking his approval. “I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

Sunghoon met his eyes, a flicker of gratitude softening his usual stern expression. “Please do,” Sunghoon said quietly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Thank you.”

Jongseong basked in the rare acknowledgment from Sunghoon and pressed on, eager to keep the florist’s attention a moment longer. “Were you hurt?” he asked Niki, concern lining his voice. “It doesn’t seem like this is the first time something like this has happened.”

Niki hesitated, then nodded, a hint of weariness in his eyes. “No, it’s not,” he admitted, like a child reluctant to complain. “I’m not hurt now, but...”

Sunghoon cut in, his voice edged with frustration. “Last time, he was almost struck by an arrow—he’s lucky it only grazed his cheek.” Jongseong’s eyes lingered on the faint scar just above Niki’s cheekbone, a reminder of past dangers.

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” Jongseong promised, savoring the look of relief that crossed Sunghoon’s face.

For a moment, Sunghoon’s usual guardedness slipped away, and Jongseong thought he’d never seen the florist look so beautiful. Lost in his thoughts, Jongseong stared, mesmerized by the softer lines of Sunghoon’s features.

Sunghoon cleared his throat, catching Jongseong’s wandering gaze and bringing him back to reality. “If there’s nothing else, I need to close the shop for a bit,” Sunghoon said, his voice tinged with finality. He reached for the forgotten flowers on the counter and handed them to Jongseong, his fingers brushing lightly against Jongseong’s. “Thank you for your purchase, Your Highness. I hope you have a good day.”

Jongseong accepted the flowers, his chest tightening at the gentle smile Sunghoon offered, so unlike the usual irritation he’d grown accustomed to. It made him feel lightheaded, a mix of exhilaration and frustration flooding his senses. Jongseong had always been clear about his feelings for Sunghoon, perhaps too clear, too forceful in his relentless pursuit, and he knew it. It was something about Sunghoon that made him reckless, made him want to cross boundaries he knew he shouldn’t.

But seeing Sunghoon look at him, even just for a moment, without the usual exasperation—it felt like a victory, however small. And as Jongseong stepped out of the shop, flowers in hand and thoughts tangled, he wondered if there was still a chance, if he could make Sunghoon see him not as a stubborn prince, but as someone worthy of his smile.

As Prince Jongseong and his bodyguard Jaeyun step onto the road, Jongseong's heart flutters when he glances back to see Sunghoon watching them from the doorway of the flower shop. Jongseong waves, and even from a distance, he catches the faint smile on Sunghoon’s face before the door closes.

Jaeyun nudges Jongseong, teasing, “Looks like the prince has a soft spot after all,” earning a scowl from Jongseong. But Jongseong’s expression shifts to something more serious as he tells Jaeyun, “I need you to find out more about that boy, Niki.”

Jaeyun raises an eyebrow, curious. “Is that really necessary? Or are you just trying to find out if Sunghoon has a little beloved?” he jokes, testing Jongseong’s patience.

“I’m serious,” Jongseong snaps, his tone leaving no room for argument. He then instructs Jaeyun to inform the other guards to patrol the forest and investigate the hunters who have been chasing Niki. The thought of those hunters pursuing an innocent boy—and even injuring him—ignites a quiet fury in Jongseong.

When Jongseong returns to the palace, he heads straight to the foyer, where his mother is enjoying her usual afternoon tea, a book in her hands. Jongseong approaches her with a gentle hug, offering her the flowers Sunghoon had given him, which she accepts with a delighted smile.

She asks playfully, “Why do you bring me flowers every day, Jongseong?” She always appreciates the gesture, careful never to make him feel unappreciated.

Jongseong hesitates, tempted to share what’s been weighing on him, but instead, he smiles and simply says, “I just thought you’d like them,” before excusing himself to retreat to his chamber.

Prince Jongseong hadn’t given much thought to the scene that greeted him upon his late-night return to the palace. Around twenty palace guards stood lined up, bowing in unison as he stepped out of his carriage.

The journey back had been delayed by road troubles in the Chaconne region, which had caused him to arrive far later than expected. Despite the hiccups, he assumed that his older brother, Prince Heeseung, might have stayed up to welcome him home. After all, it was their tradition.

But no — instead, it was only Jaeyun, who greeted him with a familiar grin. Jongseong tried to shake off the slight disappointment. He and Heeseung had always been close, but lately, things had felt...different. Maybe it was the weight of royal duties pressing down on them both. Still, Jongseong couldn’t help but feel a bit sulky that his brother hadn’t waited up after he’d been gone for five days.

His trip wasn’t just any journey; it was his annual pilgrimage to Chaconne, where he would visit his mentor, Jaan, the wise scholar. Every year, they spent hours discussing matters of philosophy and duty. Jaan was the one person Jongseong could trust to share his deepest concerns and worries without fear of judgment.

Once he’d been escorted straight to his chambers, the governess urged him to rest, and Jaeyun lingered behind to ask how the trip had gone. Jongseong, weary from the long ride, simply replied, “It went well,” before collapsing onto his bed.

Yawning, he had one last question before sleep took him. “Did Sunghoon write back?”

The night before his journey, Jongseong had sent Sunghoon a letter, informing him of the pilgrimage and that he would be gone for two weeks. Jaeyun’s smile faded slightly, and he shook his head, lips pressed tight.

Jongseong must have fallen asleep then, the exhaustion finally overtaking him.

So when the next morning arrived, he didn’t think much of it — the fact that five of his mistress of wardrobe attendants were gathered in his room, dressing him in a black hanbok embroidered with silver lotus and wave patterns. He assumed it was just preparation for the usual Sunday Mass.

But something in the air felt off. As he stood before the mirror, his reflection adorned in regal finery, he couldn’t shake the feeling that today would be different — though he had no idea just how much his world was about to change.

As Prince Jongseong is escorted through the side entrance of the palace’s grand cathedral, his heart races, the number of guards surrounding him more than usual.

Confusion clouds his thoughts as he steps inside the familiar space—except nothing about it feels familiar today. The royal family's private entrance opens into a stunning view of the chapel, which is overflowing with about a hundred people, more than the usual crowd for Sunday mass.

The commoners, who normally sat in their humble clothes, are now draped in formal, lavish attire. White and gold lace drapes hang from every archway, and the scent of lotuses fills the air. The cathedral is transformed—adorned for an event far beyond a simple service.

Jongseong's eyes dart around, dazed and disoriented. His feet move forward, following the guards as they guide him toward the chancel where his father stands. King Jaewoong, clad in a regal red hanbok embroidered with gold, watches him with an expression of authority. The diamonds in his crown glint under the cathedral’s soft light, making him look both majestic and imposing.

As Jongseong approaches, applause erupts from the crowd—sudden and unexpected, sending a ripple of discomfort through his body.

Before Jongseong can react, a heavy hand lands on his back. His father leans close, his voice a low, commanding whisper in Jongseong's ear, "Just do your duty properly."

The tension coils tighter in Jongseong’s chest as he surveys the crowd. His mother sits across the aisle, her purple hanbok shimmering in the candlelight. Delicate tears streak her face as she dabs them away with trembling fingers. Her regal posture contrasts with the sorrow that lingers in her eyes,

Beside her, his older brother Heeseung leans in, gently consoling her. But he never meets Jongseong's gaze, his own eyes fixed downward as if he cannot bear to witness the scene unfolding.

Then, the deep resonance of the cathedral bell echoes through the air, signaling the start of something far more monumental than Jongseong could have imagined.

The grand doors at the front of the cathedral swing open with a creaking grandeur, and every eye turns to the entrance. Jongseong’s breath catches in his throat as he sees him—the most beautiful man he’s ever laid eyes on.... Sunghoon.

The ethereal figure strides in, dressed in a magnificent white hanbok adorned with intricate black lotus designs that mirror Jongseong’s own attire. His pale skin almost glows in with the light embroidery, and his sharp, delicate features—thick eyebrows, intense dark eyes, and raven-black hair—give him an air of elegance that makes Jongseong's heart pound harder.

Sunghoon is breathtaking. But it’s not just his beauty that overwhelms Jongseong—it’s the way he walks.

Sunghoon’s steps are slow, hesitant, as if each one costs him everything he has. His eyes remain downcast, never once lifting to meet the gaze of the hundred pairs of eyes locked on him. There’s a fragility in his movement, his body trembling ever so slightly, as though he might bolt from the cathedral at any moment. The red carpet stretches endlessly before him, leading him straight toward Jongseong.

And with each agonizing step Sunghoon takes, something heavy settles in Jongseong’s chest. He has always dreamed of being with Sunghoon, imagined a life where he would never love anyone but him. Yet now, as Sunghoon approaches, his pain visible in every movement, Jongseong feels a deep, twisting ache in his heart.

Why does seeing him like this hurt so much? Why, when Sunghoon is finally walking toward him, does it feel like the most tragic thing in the world?

Sunghoon’s steps falter just before reaching the altar, and for the briefest moment, their eyes meet. Jongseong’s breath hitches—everything he has ever felt for Sunghoon floods through him. But he can see it, clear as day—the pain in Sunghoon’s eyes.

And suddenly, Jongseong isn’t sure what hurts more—the steps Sunghoon has taken to reach him, or the knowledge that, despite everything, Sunghoon's heart may still be miles away.

Jongseong’s heart splintered the moment his gaze met Sunghoon’s. The fear in Sunghoon’s eyes was sharp, unmistakable—so much so that he turned away, as if looking at Jongseong was too much to bear, as if Jongseong’s very presence burned him.

Jongseong stood there, frozen, his breath caught in his throat. A strange numbness crept over him, his mind reeling. Sunghoon—the one person Jongseong had longed for, quietly admired, a commoner whose gentle presence had always been a comfort—now stood before him, trembling with fear. And it wasn’t the nerves of a bride; it was something far deeper, something far more painful. Jongseong could see it in the way Sunghoon’s shoulders stiffened, the way his fingers clenched the fabric of his robes as if bracing for something unbearable.

Jongseong’s chest tightened. He hadn’t known. He hadn’t known any of this—had no idea that the grand cathedral he’d been led to, with its white and gold decorations and neatly dressed nobles, was not a Sunday Mass, but a wedding.

Their wedding.

And certainly not that Sunghoon would be the one forced to stand at the other end of the aisle, eyes downcast, steps faltering, his entire body radiating sorrow and fear.

Panic surged through Jongseong’s veins, followed by a sharp pang of guilt. He had admired Sunghoon from afar for so long, quietly nurturing feelings for the florist, never daring to hope for anything in return. But to stand here now, to see Sunghoon so utterly broken, made Jongseong’s stomach churn with regret.

This wasn’t love—it was a cruel binding. A marriage neither of them had asked for. And the realization hit Jongseong with the force of a thousand blows.

He tried to move, tried to say something, to stop this—thisㅡ whatever this was. But his limbs refused to respond. His body felt like it was being weighed down by the expectations of the entire court, by the heavy eyes watching him from the pews. His father’s stern voice echoed in his head—do your duty.

But what about Sunghoon? What about the fear written in his every movement?

The pounding in his chest was deafening now, each beat echoing like a hammer against his ribs. His mind was a blur, a storm of confusion and helplessness.

How had this happened? How had they been brought here, to this altar, to this moment that felt more like a prison than a union?

The guilt gnawed at him, sinking deeper with every passing second, until it became an unbearable weight that left him paralyzed.

As the priest’s voice droned on, the ceremony unfolding around him, Jongseong’s body moved mechanically, his actions not his own. His lips formed the necessary responses, but they felt hollow, disconnected from the storm raging inside him. Time seemed to stretch and warp, everything around him moving in slow motion, yet too fast for him to catch his breath.

And then came the moment. The priest, in a solemn voice, declared that it was time for the kiss—the final binding act of their marriage. Jongseong’s heart stopped. He turned toward Sunghoon, who stood stiff and unmoving, his eyes still downcast, the tension in his body unmistakable.

Jongseong leaned forward, his movements automatic, robotic, and placed the softest kiss on Sunghoon’s lips. It was barely there—feather-light, a whisper of a touch that almost felt like it didn’t happen at all. The warmth of Sunghoon’s lips, though fleeting, left a searing mark on Jongseong’s soul. It wasn’t a kiss of love; it was a kiss of surrender. And the guilt of it tore him apart.

The bells tolled loudly, their sound reverberating through the cathedral, drowning out the thundering in Jongseong’s chest. The audience erupted into applause, their cheers ringing in his ears, but Jongseong felt none of it. He was numb, lost in a fog of guilt and sorrow. His body moved on its own, turning to face the crowd, but his mind was elsewhere, trapped in the raw pain of knowing that the man he loved stood beside him, bound not by affection, but by duty.

As the cheers grew louder, Jongseong’s heart ached with the knowledge that he had just taken part in something unforgivable. He had never wanted this—not like this. And now, standing beside Sunghoon, watching him tremble with every passing second, Jongseong knew that the path ahead would be one of torment. Not just for Sunghoon—but for him too. Because no matter how much he wanted to love Sunghoon, how much he had dreamed of a future with him, this—this —was not how it was meant to be.

Prince Jongseong watched helplessly as Sunghoon’s hands trembled, his lips bitten raw as he fought back tears. Even over the deafening cheers of the crowd and the rhythmic chime of the cathedral bells, Jongseong could hear the shallow, ragged breaths Sunghoon struggled to contain. Each gasp and tremor from Sunghoon felt like a dagger twisting in Jongseong’s chest.

The ceremony ended just like that—cheers fading, bells growing distant—and the heavy silence that followed only amplified the sound of Sunghoon’s escalating coughs. The maids rushed to his side, supporting him as the coughing grew violent, wracking his fragile frame until he collapsed on the stairs, retching.

Jongseong bolted toward him, panic gripping him. His hand, shaky and uncertain, reached for Sunghoon’s back. “S-Sunghoon…” Jongseong’s voice was barely more than a whisper, thick with worry.

But Sunghoon recoiled at his touch as though it had burned him. His voice, fragile and trembling, was desperate as he pleaded, “No… please… no. Don’t… don’t touch me.”

Jongseong’s heart shattered at the sound. His breath caught in his throat as he withdrew his hand, watching in pained silence as Sunghoon reached for one of the maids instead, still struggling to breathe.

“Your Highness, we’ll take him back to his chamber,” one of the maids said, bowing to Jongseong.

He didn’t respond, only stood frozen, watching as they led Sunghoon away, his figure growing smaller with every step. Jongseong’s feet felt glued to the ground, his heart heavy as he realized just how powerless he was in this moment. Sunghoon was being taken to some chamber, likely chosen by the king, and there was nothing Jongseong could do but watch.

When he finally managed to move, he descended the stairs and was met with the grand hall—lavish and vast, filled with golden chandeliers casting a warm glow over the polished marble floors. The walls were adorned with tapestries, depicting royal celebrations of old, and long banquet tables lined with the finest delicacies stretched out across the room. Musicians tuned their instruments, and servants scurried about, preparing for what was undoubtedly a grand wedding after-party.

Jongseong clenched his fists. Of course, he thought bitterly. An after-party for a wedding I didn’t even know about until today.

He had walked into the cathedral expecting a simple Sunday Mass, only to find himself trapped in a marriage he hadn’t consented to—an event meticulously orchestrated behind his back.

Near the entrance, he spotted Jaeyun, his guard and childhood friend, bowing to the arriving guests. Something inside Jongseong snapped. Without thinking, he grabbed Jaeyun by the arm, pulling him roughly toward the fountain outside, away from the prying eyes of the guests and guards.

“Jongseong—!” Jaeyun yelped, startled by the sudden pull, but Jongseong didn’t care. His chest was tight with anger, his thoughts a chaotic storm of betrayal and confusion.

Once they reached the fountain, Jongseong turned on him, his voice trembling with fury. “You… you knew about this, didn’t you?” He couldn’t believe it. Jaeyun—his best friend, his trusted guard, the person he had shared his thoughts and fears with since they were young—had known. He’d kept this from him.

“Why didn’t you tell me!? We talked last night! You escorted me to my room like everything was normal!” Jongseong’s voice cracked, a mixture of anger and hurt spilling out.

Jaeyun hung his head, staring at the ground in shame. “Jongseong… I… of course, I knew. I was here. I was tasked by the king to oversee the preparations, just like the other guards. But I couldn’t tell you. I knew if I did, you wouldn’t have let it happen. And if the king found out I warned you…” Jaeyun’s voice wavered, “…he’d have my head.”

Jongseong exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling inside him. He couldn’t deny it—Jaeyun was right. If he had known, he would have fought tooth and nail to stop this wedding, to protect Sunghoon. But Jaeyun’s fear of losing his life seemed exaggerated. The king wouldn’t actually execute him, would he? Jongseong undertook Jaeyun’s words—yes, the king was strict, but he regarded Jaeyun almost as another son. The thought of Jaeyun being in danger felt distant and exaggerated, a fear Jongseong couldn’t fully entertain.

“You’re overreacting,” Jongseong muttered, his anger deflating into exhaustion. “The king wouldn’t have cut your head off. He sees you like family… but still…” Jongseong’s voice softened, the weight of everything settling over him. “You should’ve told me.”

Jaeyun finally met his eyes, guilt etched into his features. “I didn’t want to disappoint the king, Jongseong. I didn’t know what else to do…”

Jongseong sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He was trapped, and so was Sunghoon. The wedding had happened, and now, nothing could be undone. He didn’t know how to fix this, didn’t know how to take away the hurt in Sunghoon’s eyes, the fear that had made him flinch away from Jongseong’s touch. And worse, he didn’t know how to forgive himself for being part of it all.

“Whatever.” Jongseong sighed, the weight of guilt settling heavily on his shoulders.

He felt a sudden pang of remorse for blaming Jaeyun, as if his best friend had any real choice in the matter. Jaeyun had simply done what he had to—just like everyone else caught in the king’s web. He shifted the conversation, trying to push away his frustration.

“Sunghoon… he threw up on the stairs. He was so scared… he begged me not to touch him.” Jongseong’s voice wavered, his heart aching at the memory. “If he hated me before, he probably hates me even more now.”

A hand settled gently on his back. It was Jaeyun, his usual stoic demeanor softened with sympathy.

“How did it even happen?” Jongseong asked, his voice quieter now. He needed to know. How had his father convinced—no, forced—Sunghoon into this nightmare of a marriage?

Jaeyun hesitated, as if unsure how much to reveal. Then he finally spoke. “He knew who Sunghoon was,” Jaeyun said, watching Jongseong’s reaction. “Knew everything, apparently. Even that he was a florist in the market.”

Jongseong’s mind raced. His father had known all along? Had the royal guards been tailing Sunghoon, watching him without his knowledge? Or worse, had Heeseung told their father? Jongseong’s brother was always more in tune with court politics, always the one to keep their father’s favor.

“We escorted him to the shop first, but it was closed,” Jaeyun continued. “So we went to his house in the outskirts, at one of those small cottages.” His voice trailed off. “I don’t know what they said inside. I wasn’t allowed to hear.”

Jongseong clenched his fists. His father had gone to Sunghoon’s home—invaded his sanctuary—and for what? To bribe him? Threaten him?

No, Jongseong thought. It couldn’t have been a bribe. Sunghoon had refused every coin Jongseong had ever offered him at the shop, no matter how much he tried to tip him for the flowers. He never wanted the money.

“Do you think… he threatened him?” Jongseong asked, though deep down, he already knew the answer. He was desperate for an explanation, some way to understand how Sunghoon had been dragged into this.

Jaeyun’s gaze met his, steady but somber. “I don’t know. He didn’t lash out, didn’t scream at the king the way he always did with you when you teased him. But…” Jaeyun hesitated, as if the next words were too heavy. “He looked burdened. Sad. Afraid.”

Burdened. Afraid. The same emotions that had been etched into Sunghoon’s face today, standing at the altar with his shaking hands and terrified eyes. It made Jongseong sick to his core.

“I can’t let this happen,” Jongseong muttered, almost to himself. His fists tightened. I have to do something. Sunghoon doesn’t deserve this.

Jaeyun sighed, his expression hardening again. “What can you do? Everyone was at that wedding, Jongseong. All the aristocrats, even the scholars. They’re all expecting your coronation soon, on your birthday. You’re locked into this—Sunghoon’s locked into this.” He paused, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Just… don’t do anything reckless. Don’t make things worse for him.”

Jongseong’s frustration surged again, boiling beneath the surface, but Jaeyun’s words rang true. The whole kingdom had seen the wedding, witnessed the start of something that could no longer be undone. The prophecy, the expectations, the weight of duty—it all pressed down on him, immobilizing him.

But Sunghoon… Jongseong’s chest tightened. Sunghoon didn’t deserve to suffer like this, trapped in a royal game he had no part in. And now, because of him, Sunghoon had been thrown into the same chains of duty Jongseong had fought against his entire life.

“I don’t care about the prophecy,” Jongseong muttered, more to himself than anyone. But as much as he wanted to fight, he was lost. What could he even do? The king had made his move. The kingdom had seen it. And Sunghoon… poor Sunghoon… was caught in the middle.

And now, so was Jongseong.

As if it had just occurred to him, Jaeyun added, “Oh, and Niki—the boy—he was there when we visited Sunghoon’s house with the King.”

Jealousy instantly flickered across Prince Jongseong’s face, and he made no effort to hide it. His voice was sharp as he reminded Jaeyun, “I asked you to find out about him before, didn’t I?”

Jaeyun nodded. “Niki’s an orphan from the Arcanium Cathedral. I couldn’t dig up much about his relationship with Sunghoon’s family, but it seems they’ve taken him in like their own.”

Jongseong’s thoughts spiraled. How close were they? Did Sunghoon see Niki as just a friend? Family? Or… something more? His mind drifted back to the first time he met Niki. He’d asked who the boy was, and Sunghoon had simply said he was a family, while Niki, had called himself Sunghoon’s partner. The memory still stung, a flash of jealousy that lingered even now.

Noticing Jongseong’s sudden silence, Jaeyun gave him a pointed look. “You’ve just married Sunghoon. I don’t think there’s any reason to feel jealous anymore.”

Jongseong’s lips curled in a bitter smile. “Out of his will, yeah?”

Jaeyun sighed, his patience thinning. “Look,” he said, his tone now firm but gentle. “Don’t do anything reckless that’ll hurt Sunghoon even more.”

Jongseong’s shoulders slumped, the weight of the situation crashing down on him. “I don’t plan on it,” he muttered, though the resolve in his voice wavered. After a long pause, he admitted, his voice small and uncertain, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Try to win his heart,” Jaeyun advised. “That’s all you can do now.”

Jongseong let out a hollow laugh. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do all this time.” His heart felt heavy with the realization. “But after today? After he was forced into marrying me… it feels impossible.”

“As if he has—”

“Stop.” Prince Jongseong’s voice was sharp as he cut off Jaeyun, his guard.

As if he has a choice, he thought bitterly. He didn’t need to hear it spoken aloud.

“I already feel terrible enough for Sunghoon,” Jongseong continued, his voice tight. “You don’t have to rub it in. I’d never force him to be my consort if the choice were mine.”

Jaeyun nodded in understanding. “I know. Just… be careful, okay?”

Prince Jongseong gave a small nod in return before turning and heading back inside the castle, trying to steel himself for what awaited.

Despite his best efforts to avoid the grand hall, there was no escape. The party had already begun—aristocrats and noble families filling the room, their laughter echoing through the castle walls. Chandeliers cast a golden glow over the polished marble floor, and the room was adorned with lavish silk drapes and golden tapestries, the scent of fine wines and extravagant food permeating the air.

Everywhere Jongseong looked, he saw finely dressed nobles, women in shimmering gowns and men in vibrant hanboks, their smiles broad as they raised glasses in celebration. His  celebration.

Jongseong forced a polite smile each time he was stopped, the weight of their congratulations heavy on his chest. His stomach churned with every handshake, every well-wish, and every flattering remark about the wedding he hadn’t even known was coming.

Just as he was about to slip away unnoticed, a nobleman stepped in his path. Jongseong’s eyes flicked to the man’s maroon hanbok, richly embroidered with gold—a duke, no doubt.

“Our future King!” The man bowed deeply, his tone dripping with respect. “It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness.”

Jongseong mirrored the bow, his face carefully composed.

“You’ve grown into quite the young man. Handsome, just like your father.”

Jongseong didn’t respond, unsure of what to say, and the man pressed on. “And where is your lovely consort?”

The word made Jongseong’s heart lurch. Sunghoon.

Before Jongseong could answer, a voice from his left interrupted. “Your Majesty,” Prince Heeseung appeared by his side, his presence commanding. “I’m afraid Prince Jongseong’s consort is not feeling well. My brother is on his way to check on him.”

The duke quickly bowed again. “Oh, my apologies for keeping you, Your Highness.”

Jongseong gave a short nod, relieved for the save. He and Heeseung had perfected this silent understanding over the years—pulling each other out of awkward conversations, offering subtle rescues. Jongseong bowed slightly toward his brother, who did the same in return, but not without catching Jongseong’s stern gaze.

A look that says, We’ll talk later.

Prince Jongseong rushed through the castle corridors, his heart pounding in his chest as he searched for any sign of the maids or guards who had escorted Sunghoon earlier. His eyes landed on the maids emerging from a chamber—the vacated one right next to his own. It had to be where they put Sunghoon.

“Where is Sunghoon?” he asked hastily, already pushing the door open.

“He’s inside, Your Highness,” one of the maids answered, bowing. “He fell asleep.”

Jongseong’s voice softened. “Is he okay?”

One of the maids explained that Sunghoon hadn’t eaten since the morning, which likely caused the dizziness and nausea. Jongseong nodded, thanking them, and was about to step inside when one of the maids gently stopped him.

“Please be careful, Your Highness. He’s been crying and only just fell asleep from exhaustion.”

Jongseong’s heart ached at her words, but he continued inside, quietly closing the door behind him. The room was dimly lit, and there, on the bed, was Sunghoon.

He looked fragile, curled up beneath the blankets, his breathing uneven even in sleep. Despite the stillness, Sunghoon’s face held no peace—his brows furrowed, lips parted as if even in slumber, he was haunted by what had transpired.

Jongseong’s chest tightened. He stepped closer, reaching out hesitantly to trace the dark circles under Sunghoon’s eyes. His skin felt cold, his exhaustion palpable. Jongseong wondered how long it had been since Sunghoon had rested properly, how long he’d been burdened by all this.

Seeing him like this was agony. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Sunghoon was supposed to be free—tending to his flowers in the market, not lying here, worn down, forced into something he never wanted.

“I’ll do something,” Jongseong whispered, his voice thick with emotion. It was a promise he didn’t yet know how to keep. Jaeyun’s warning echoed in his mind—be careful—but how could he stand by and watch Sunghoon suffer any longer?

He didn’t have a plan. But he knew he had to find a way, to do something so that Sunghoon didn’t have to hurt anymore.

“I’m sorry, Sunghoon,” Jongseong murmured, his voice breaking. He bent down slightly, watching Sunghoon’s face, so close yet feeling worlds apart. He wanted to take away the pain, to change the fate that had been forced upon them both.

But for now, all he could do was apologize—to a sleeping figure that had been dragged into this nightmare.

The day dragged on, each hour heavier than the last. Prince Jongseong was summoned to the main hall to entertain the guests. Dukes, lords, and leaders from other castles circled him like vultures, trying to trivialize his role as the future king. The duchesses, not far behind, whispered and gossiped, their questions cutting deeper with every mention of his consort, Sunghoon.

“Is he a prince from another land?” one asked, her voice dripping with curiosity.

“Or is it true… that he’s a commoner?” another chimed in, eyes gleaming with scandal.

So, the word was out. Sunghoon was known as a commoner, and the thought of it—how they spoke of him like some object of curiosity—made Jongseong’s forced smile falter every time. He had mastered the art of playing the role, but now, whenever Sunghoon’s name left their lips, the mask slipped.

He had yet to confront his family, though he could feel the weight of that conversation looming. Not now. Not while he had to keep this false facade for the guests. They could discuss the mess they had forced him into after the party.

Finally, as the night drew to a close and the maids began cleaning the grand hall, the guests slowly departed, and the royal family retreated to their chambers. Jongseong’s mind raced with everything unsaid. The first person he sought was the king—his father.

He found him in the chapel, kneeling in front of the altar, lost in his nightly prayers. His father’s back was turned, his broad form bent in devotion, and for a moment, Jongseong hesitated. It was forbidden to disturb the king during prayer, but the anger that had been simmering in Jongseong’s chest all day erupted.

“Why did you do it?” Jongseong’s voice cut through the quiet chapel. “Without consulting me?”

The king didn’t respond immediately, rising from his knees and dusting off his robes, placing his crown atop his head as though the weight of it gave him the authority to explain himself.

“My son,” his father finally said, turning to face him, “You left me no choice.”

The king’s expression was calm, but there was a flicker of something like guilt behind his eyes. The sight of it only fueled Jongseong’s rage. Now he felt guilt? After everything he had done? After marching to Sunghoon’s home, forcing him into this fate without a second thought?

“You had no choice?” Jongseong echoed bitterly, stepping forward, fists clenched. “You made this decision for me. For him! You’ve decided the course of someone’s life without asking, without caring what it would do to him, or to me.”

The king’s eyes hardened. “I did what was necessary for the future of this kingdom.”

“Necessary?” Jongseong’s voice trembled. “You forced him into this! You forced me into this!”

“You have a responsibility,” his father said, his tone cold now, authoritative. “And if you had your way, this kingdom would suffer for your whims. This marriage… it secures our future.”

Jongseong shook his head, disbelief crashing over him like a wave. “This isn’t just politics, Father. This is someone’s life.” His voice cracked, thinking of Sunghoon lying in that chamber, broken and afraid. “You’ve taken away his choice. And mine.”

Jongseong stormed out of the chapel, not wanting to hear another word from the king. His father’s explanations, his cold pragmatism, only deepened the ache in Jongseong’s chest. He needed space, needed to get away from the suffocating weight of the crown, of duty, and of the lies he was now trapped in.

When he reached Sunghoon’s chambers, the maids outside greeted him with soft bows, whispering that Sunghoon was still asleep. Jongseong nodded, stepping inside quietly. Sunghoon lay there, his face finally relaxed, the tension that had twisted his features earlier now smoothed away.

The sight of him like this—peaceful, vulnerable—made Jongseong’s heart clench. For a moment, he allowed himself to smile. It was fleeting, bittersweet.

He lingered for a while, just watching over him. Five minutes passed, maybe more. He didn’t want to leave, but he knew he couldn’t stay much longer. Jongseong stood, careful not to disturb Sunghoon, and instructed the maids to prepare food and water for him in case he woke up during the night. He thought of telling them to wake him if Sunghoon stirred, but stopped himself.

Would Sunghoon really want to see him first thing after waking up?  Probably not.

As Jongseong walked back to his own chambers, he saw Prince Heeseung standing by the door, waiting. His older brother looked regretful, his face heavy with the weight of what he had set into motion. His eyes met Jongseong’s, full of guilt.

“Jongseong, I—” Heeseung began, but Jongseong cut him off, his voice cold and direct.

“You better have a good explanation for this.” Jongseong’s words were sharp, betraying the anger that had simmered under his skin all day. He had always been straightforward, never one to hold back his feelings.

When he first started liking Sunghoon, he didn’t hesitate to make it known. Even though Sunghoon clearly didn’t feel the same, pushing him away every time Jongseong visited his flower shop, Jongseong never hid how he felt.

Heeseung sighed, lowering his head. “I’m sorry, Jongseong,” he said, his voice soft and full of remorse. “I didn’t think it would come to this. I only meant to help… I thought Father would understand that it wasn’t right to force this, but instead—” he trailed off, his own regret palpable.

Jongseong’s fists clenched. Heeseung had always been the responsible one, the considerate one. The brother who seemed to always know what was best.

But now? Now, Jongseong couldn’t understand why Heeseung would say something to their father that would drag Sunghoon into this mess—into the responsibilities of a royal life he never asked for. Heeseung was supposed to be better than this. Smarter than this.

“You knew how I felt about him,” Jongseong said, his voice thick with frustration. “But this isn’t what I wanted. This... especially isn't what Sunghoon wanted. You should’ve known better.”

Heeseung nodded, his expression pained. “I know. I’m sorry… I thought I was helping. But I’ve only made things worse.”

"Yeah, yeah. You did." Jongseong muttered, a resigned sadness flickering across his face.

Heeseung reached out as if to stop him, but Jongseong had already turned, refusing to hear any more. He walked away, leaving Heeseung standing alone in the hallway, guilt and regret hanging heavily in the silence.

Jongseong woke up before dawn, though it wasn’t because he was rested. The restless night had left him tossing and turning, his mind consumed by the weight of everything that had happened. The silence of his chambers felt suffocating, so he dressed himself hastily, ignoring the usual morning routine.

As he stepped out, Jaeyun, standing guard by his door, straightened at the sight of him and silently fell into step behind him.

When they reached the kitchen corridor, Jongseong spotted a maid carrying a tray of breakfast. He stopped her with a gesture. “Hand me that,” he said.

The maid hesitated, her eyes darting to Jaeyun, who gave her a subtle nod. Reluctantly, she handed the tray to Jongseong.

“Stay here,” Jongseong told her firmly before turning toward Sunghoon’s chamber.

Jaeyun stepped ahead to open the door. As they entered, Jongseong’s heart clenched at the sight before him. Sunghoon lay on his back, half-covered by a blanket, his face pale and drawn. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, unfocused, as if he didn’t even notice their presence.

Jongseong approached cautiously, setting the tray on the bedside table. “Here,” he said softly, his voice faltering. “You need to eat something.”

Sunghoon’s eyes flicked toward him, sharp and cold. “Is that a royal order?” he shot back, his voice rough.

“It’s not,” Jongseong said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But please… you need to eat.”

“I don’t want it,” Sunghoon replied curtly, turning his head away.

The rejection stung, but Jongseong stayed rooted in place. He glanced at Jaeyun, who gave him a silent look of caution. Jongseong turned back to Sunghoon, his hands clenched tightly at his sides.

“Sunghoon…” he began, his voice laced with frustration and concern. “I know you’re angry, and I don’t blame you. But skipping meals will only make you feel worse. It’ll only hurt you.”

“Good,” Sunghoon muttered, his voice filled with bitterness. “If I'm dead then maybe then you’ll finally leave me alone.”

The words cut deep, but Jongseong refused to back down. He leaned forward slightly, his tone softening. “I'm... I'll try to do something. Once I'm the king. But for- for now I… I just want you to take care of yourself.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond, his body remaining as still as stone. After a long moment, Jongseong sighed and stepped back, motioning for Jaeyun to follow him out.

As they exited the room, Jongseong turned to the maids stationed nearby. “Keep an eye on him,” he instructed. “If he needs anything, make sure he gets it. And let me know the moment he does.”

The maids bowed, and Jongseong walked away, his heart heavy. Jaeyun fell into step beside him, his presence steady as always.

“He’s more hard-headed than he looks,” Jaeyun muttered, breaking the tense silence. “I wonder how the king, your father, even made him agree to all this.”

Jongseong’s jaw tightened, his steps quickening. “So do I,” he said, his voice sharp. “And I plan to find out.”

Jaeyun didn’t press further, sensing the storm brewing within the prince. The silence between them was heavy, charged with the weight of Jongseong’s anger and helplessness.

The clash of steel echoed in the training courtyard, each strike reverberating with tension. Prince Jongseong, gripping his sword tightly, faced off against his older brother, Prince Heeseung. Their movements were calculated yet forceful, the lesson feeling less like practice and more like an outlet for unspoken frustrations ㅡ at least on Jongseong's end.

“You could’ve told me,” Jongseong hissed, his blade meeting Heeseung’s in a sharp parry.

Heeseung stepped back, his brow furrowed. "I didn't want this to happen either. Do you think I would agree with Father's decision?” He countered, blocking Jongseong’s next blow.

Jongseong’s strikes grew more aggressive, his emotions spilling into each swing. “You didn’t stop him either. You could’ve warned me! You knew how I felt about Sunghoon, and you still let this happen!”

Heeseung deflected Jongseong’s attack and tried to create distance, his movements slower now, more defensive. “What could I have done, Jongseong? Gone against Father’s orders? He’s the King! None of us have a choice in this, least of all me.”

Jongseong pressed forward, his sword catching Heeseung’s and twisting it aside. “Still! You could’ve told me!” he roared, forcing Heeseung backward until his brother was cornered against the courtyard wall.

The tip of Jongseong’s blade hovered dangerously close to Heeseung’s throat, their eyes locking in a battle of wills.

Heeseung raised his hands slightly in surrender, his expression calm but tinged with regret. “I thought I was protecting you,” he said quietly. “Clearly, I failed.”

Jongseong hesitated, his chest heaving with exertion and anger, but before he could lower his sword, Heeseung shifted his stance. He tried to deflect the blade and slip past, but Jongseong reacted instinctively, his sword slicing too close.

A thin line of red appeared just under Heeseung’s eye.

Jongseong froze, realizing what he's done. His anger dissolved into guilt as he stared at his brother, who reached up and touched the scratch on his cheek, his fingers coming away stained with blood.

“I…” Jongseong stumbled over his words, lowering his sword immediately. “I didn’t mean to—Hyung, I—”

Before Jongseong could finish, the sound of hurried footsteps broke the tension. Guards stationed nearby, the physician, the swordsmanship instructor, and even a few maids had rushed toward the commotion, their eyes wide with alarm.

“Your Highness!” one of the guards called out, stepping forward as if to shield Heeseung.

But Heeseung raised a hand to stop them, his voice steady despite the thin trickle of blood running down his cheek. “It’s just a scratch,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Nothing a prince like me can’t handle. Please, step out for a moment.”

The guards and maids hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances, before slowly retreating at his command.

The instructor bowed stiffly, muttering an apology for not intervening sooner, before stepping back as well.

Heeseung straightened, wiping the blood off with the back of his hand. “You’re angry, and you have every right to be. But don’t let it consume you.”

Jongseong dropped his sword to the ground, shame weighing heavily on his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I shouldn’t have…”

Heeseung stepped closer, placing a firm hand on Jongseong’s shoulder. “This is nothing,” he said, his tone gentler now. “But if you want to make this right, focus your energy on protecting Sunghoon. He needs you now more than ever.”

Jongseong nodded slowly, his gaze falling to the ground. Heeseung’s words struck a chord, and though the guilt lingered, they reminded him of his greater responsibility.

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed across the training courtyard, breaking the silence that had fallen after the brothers’ confrontation. Jaeyun entered, his expression calm at first, but as his eyes swept over the scene, his gaze landed on Heeseung, who was subtly covering the scratch on his cheek with his hand.

“Wait—what happened?” Jaeyun asked, his voice sharper than usual as he hurried toward Heeseung.

Heeseung, ever composed, raised a hand to wave him off. “It’s nothing, Jaeyun. Just a small scratch from practice.”

But Jaeyun didn’t stop, stepping closer to Heeseung to inspect the injury. “Small scratch? There’s blood—” He reached out, trying to gently move Heeseung’s hand away to get a better look.

“It’s fine,” Heeseung insisted, his tone firm but not unkind. “We're talking about swords here. It's unavoidable, right?”

Jaeyun’s brows furrowed even further.

Jongseong stood a few steps away, his sword still in hand but lowered to his side. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Jaeyun, not when the guard’s concern for Heeseung only magnified the guilt twisting in Jongseong’s chest.

Jaeyun was his bodyguard, bound by duty to protect him, but Jongseong knew the truth—Jaeyun cared about Heeseung just as much. It was written all over his face in the way his jaw tightened and his hands hovered uncertainly near Heeseung, unsure whether to back off or insist on helping.

Jaeyun turned to Jongseong, his expression hardening. His lips parted, like he was about to demand an explanation for what had happened, but he stopped himself. Instead, he clenched his jaw, looking down at the ground as he took a deep breath to compose himself.

When he finally spoke, his tone was measured, though there was an edge to it. “Someone’s here for you,” Jaeyun said, keeping his gaze steady but neutral.

Jongseong blinked, momentarily thrown off by the shift in the conversation. “Who?”

“Niki,” Jaeyun said, the name carrying enough weight to make Jongseong's palms cold. “He’s at the gate, but the guards won’t let him in. He's been waiting there, and I thought you should know.”

Jongseong glanced at Heeseung, whose hand was still pressed lightly against his cheek, though the older prince’s expression had softened, almost as if he was silently telling Jongseong to go.

“Take me to him,” Jongseong finally said, his voice steadier now as he slid his sword back into its sheath.

Jaeyun nodded, casting one last glance at Heeseung before stepping aside to lead the way.

Jongseong hesitated, his gaze lingering on his brother. Heeseung gave him a small nod, a silent assurance that he’d be fine. But the guilt didn’t leave Jongseong, and as he followed Jaeyun out of the courtyard, he couldn’t help but wonder what reason Niki could possibly have for showing up now, of all times.

They walked to the gates where the guards stood watch over a trembling boy. The moment Niki stepped forward, Jongseong’s eyes swept over him. His frail frame was wrapped in exhaustion, bags under his eyes, bandages on his hands, and a frightened look in his eyes that darted nervously between the armed guards escorting him.

Jongseong raised a hand to the guards. “There’s no need to escort him. Let him come alone.”

The guards hesitated but complied, stepping back reluctantly. Niki’s steps were slow as he approached, his shoulders tense.

Jongseong turned and began walking across the wide courtyard, Niki trailing slightly behind. “What is it that you wanted?” Jongseong finally asked, his voice steady but curious.

“What did you do to him?” Niki’s question came out shaky, his voice quivering despite the attempt to sound bold.

Jongseong halted, glancing back at him. Of course. He came for Sunghoon.

“I didn’t do anything to him,” Jongseong said firmly, though he could see Niki didn’t believe him.

“You used your power,” Niki accused, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. “You forced him into this marriage, didn’t you? You—”

Jaeyun stepped forward, his voice sharp. “You’re speaking to the future king. Watch your tone.”

Niki flinched, his bravado crumbling instantly. His earlier boldness vanishing as he muttered, “I-I’m sorry.”

“Enough, Jaeyun,” Jongseong said, raising a hand to stop him. “It’s okay.” He turned back to Niki, his tone softer. “I understand why you’re upset, and I’ll try to make things right.”

Jongseong considered him, then nodded. “Do you want to see Sunghoon?”

Niki’s head shot up, and he nodded fervently. “Can I see him? Please, Your Highness,” he said desperately, even making a move to kneel before Jongseong.

Jongseong quickly stepped forward, grabbing his arm to stop him. “You don’t have to kneel. Just come with me.”

As they made their way toward the palace, Jaeyun leaned closer to Jongseong, his tone quiet but firm. “Are you sure about this? We don’t know what he's up to. What if he causes a scene?”

Jongseong didn’t slow his pace. “Maybe it will help him feel better to see someone familiar,” he replied. “It might be the only thing that can make him feel better. That should be reason enough.”

Jaeyun sighed but followed silently, keeping a watchful eye on Niki as they neared the grand palace doors.

They reached Sunghoon’s chambers, and Jongseong knocked softly on the door. He waited for a response, but none came. Carefully, he pushed it open.

“Sunghoon hyung!” Niki cried the moment the door opened, sprinting to the figure lying on the bed, his back turned to them.

The maids moved to intercept him, but Jongseong raised a hand, signaling them to let the boy through.

“Niki!” Sunghoon sat up abruptly as the boy flung his arms around him. His voice was sharp with surprise but softened as he hugged Niki back tightly. “Why are you here? I told you not to come. It’s… it’s dangerous.”

Jongseong’s chest tightened at the word. Dangerous. Was that how Sunghoon saw the palace—his home?

“I didn’t know what to do without you,” Niki sobbed into Sunghoon’s shoulder. “Everything’s so hard without you there.”

“Hush, it’s okay,” Sunghoon said gently, his voice carrying a warmth Jongseong had rarely heard. “I’m here. It’ll be okay.” He pulled back slightly, his eyes landing on the bandage on Niki’s hand. “What happened? Why are you hurt?”

“It’s nothing,” Niki mumbled, trying to hide his hand, but Sunghoon caught it, inspecting it carefully.

“Don’t lie to me, Niki,” Sunghoon scolded softly, running a soothing hand along the boy’s back as he cradled his bandaged hand in the other.

Jongseong stood frozen near the door, watching the scene unfold. Each gentle word, each touch of Sunghoon’s hand on the boy’s back, sent a pang of something sharp through him.

“You shouldn’t bite off more than you can chew,” Jaeyun murmured beside him, his tone low but amused.

Jongseong frowned. “I’m not jealous.”

“Sure you’re not,” Jaeyun hummed, the corner of his mouth twitching as they both continued to watch.

Jongseong tried to focus on their conversation, but the quiet, intimate way Sunghoon spoke to Niki grated against his nerves, of course he is jealous.

Then, Sunghoon stood up, Niki clinging to his side like a shadow. He turned to Jongseong, his eyes unexpectedly soft, almost… hopeful. “Can I walk him outside? Just for a little while.”

Jongseong hesitated. The way Sunghoon looked at him made it impossible to say no. He nodded reluctantly.

Sunghoon’s expression eased into relief. “Thank you. But… I’d like to go alone. Just Niki and me.”

The hesitation in Jongseong’s chest grew heavier, but he gestured for the guards and maids to stand down.

As Sunghoon passed by him, he paused briefly. His voice was quiet but firm as he said, “I will not run away.”

Jongseong held his breath as Sunghoon walked past and out the door with Niki. He clenched his fists at his sides, unsure if the words reassured him or unsettled him more.

That night, Jongseong sat at his desk, quill in hand, drafting notes about the policies and strategies he’d been assigned to study as part of his training as the future king. His room was quiet save for the faint scratch of pen on parchment. He’d already dismissed Jaeyun for the night, insisting the royal guards on their rounds were more than enough.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. He frowned, glancing at the time. “Come in,” he called.

To his surprise, Jaeyun peeked his head inside, his expression unreadable. Jongseong immediately noticed that Jaeyun wasn’t in his usual guard uniform. Instead, he was dressed in simple, loose clothing, clearly having been pulled from his rest. Jongseong raised an eyebrow at him.

“Jaeyun,” he said, setting down his quill. “Do you realize the trouble you’d be in if one of the head guards saw you like this?”

Jaeyun stepped inside without answering, and before Jongseong could say more, another figure emerged behind him. Jongseong’s breath caught for a moment.

Sunghoon stood there, wearing a light nightgown, his hair slightly tousled as if he’d just rolled out of bed. He looked utterly out of place in Jongseong’s chambers, his delicate figure framed by the grand doorframe. But Jongseong’s focus quickly shifted to the fact that it wasn’t appropriate at all for the future king’s consort to be seen wandering the halls in his night gown.

Jongseong rose quickly, moving to the rack near his closet. Grabbing one of his robes, he walked over and stopped just in front of Sunghoon. The boy blinked at him, surprised.

“Can I?” Jongseong asked softly, holding the robe up.

Sunghoon hesitated for a second before nodding as Jongseong draped the robe over his shoulders. It fit loosely on Sunghoon, the tie barely sitting at his waist.

“Thank you,” Sunghoon muttered under his breath, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Jaeyun sighed, drawing Jongseong’s attention. “I was asleep when Yeseul came knocking,” he explained, his tone resigned. “She brought him to my door, saying he wanted to see you. I figured it was better to bring him here myself.”

Jongseong gave Jaeyun a stern look but softened almost immediately. “You’ve done enough. Go back to your chambers,” he said firmly.

Jaeyun nodded reluctantly, sparing Sunghoon a quick bow before stepping out of the room.

The door clicked shut, leaving Jongseong and Sunghoon alone. Jongseong turned to find Sunghoon standing awkwardly in the center of the room, fiddling with the tie of the robe he’d just put on him.

“Do you need something?” Jongseong asked gently, keeping his tone light. “Or is there something you wanted to talk about?”

Sunghoon shook his head, his gaze darting everywhere except toward Jongseong. He was a far cry from the feisty boy Jongseong was used to. His quieter demeanor was just so... endearing.

After a moment, Sunghoon looked up and spoke softly, “Thank you… for letting me see Niki today.”

Jongseong’s breath hitched. The sincerity in Sunghoon’s voice, the vulnerability in his eyes—it was almost too much.

He gave a small nod, his voice steady as he replied, “You don’t have to thank me.”

Sunghoon only smiled faintly, his fingers still nervously toying with the tie of the robe. For a moment, Jongseong allowed himself to simply watch him, the weight of the day melting into the quiet stillness of the room.

Jongseong stilled, his eyes lingering on the faint smile on Sunghoon’s face. It wasn’t often that he saw him like this. Usually, Sunghoon was scowling, especially back in the market when he used to glare at Jongseong every time he visited the florist’s shop, as if trying to chase him off.

“I was so scared he’d get into trouble if he comes here. But…" Sunghoon says softly "I'm glad nothing like that happened."

Jongseong nodded, unsure of what to say at first. Then, before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Are you and Niki—”

“No,” Sunghoon cut him off quickly, shaking his head. “He’s like family to me. A brother.”

A wave of relief washed over Jongseong, though he tried not to let it show. Was he jealous? Over nothing? Maybe. But as soon as he thought about how emotional Niki had been earlier—clutching Sunghoon, crying for him—Jongseong couldn’t help but wonder....

Did Niki really see Sunghoon as just a brother?

He frowned slightly. Maybe he shouldn’t get too comfortable. That kid could still be competition. Even if Jongseong was already married to Sunghoon in name, he knew where he stood. Sunghoon’s heart wasn’t his, not yet. And the game he was playing? He was losing.

“I’m going to sleep,” Sunghoon suddenly announced, pulling Jongseong from his thoughts.

Jongseong blinked, watching as Sunghoon’s expression shifted back to its usual grumpy demeanor. He turned and started toward the door without waiting for a response.

“I’ll walk you back,” Jongseong said, stepping forward.

Sunghoon stopped mid-step, turning to frown at him. “There’s no need. I can walk myself.”

But Jongseong was already following him, keeping a respectful distance. Sunghoon sighed but didn’t argue further, leading the way down the quiet corridors.

When they reached Sunghoon’s door, Jongseong lingered for a moment, unsure if he should say anything else. Finally, he offered, “Good night.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond. He didn’t even glance back at Jongseong as he slipped into his chambers, the door clicking shut behind him.

Jongseong stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door. He let out a quiet sigh and turned to leave, the sound of his footsteps echoing faintly in the empty hallway.

🥀