The morning mist clung to the tiled roofs of the royal compound like soft smoke. Courtiers hurried along stone paths, their jeogori sleeves fluttering like wings. Somewhere, a gayageum hummed through the fog.
Inside his chamber, Ji-Ho sat perfectly still, staring at his reflection in the bronze mirror as an attendant fussed with the golden clasp on his robe.
"Your Highness, today's council begins at the Hour of the Dragon. Please refrain from… smiling too widely. The ministers found it unnerving yesterday."
Ji-Ho blinked. Hour of the Dragon? Ministers?He still wasn't used to this. The bed felt too grand. The words too archaic. The robe too tight around his chest, like it belonged to another man.
And maybe it did.
His thoughts flickered to her — Thanu — the way her hanbok had swished when she bowed yesterday, her voice calm, her eyes empty of recognition.
He rubbed his temples. She doesn't remember.
The door creaked open. Lord Nam, the elderly royal tutor, bowed deeply. His beard looked heavy enough to anchor a ship.
"Your Highness, today's audience concerns the newly arrived scholar. The palace expects you to assess her competence."
"Assess?" Ji-Ho said faintly. "She's a— scholar?"
"Indeed. Scholar Thanu of the Eastern Academy. A most promising mind, though a bit… unconventional."
Ji-Ho almost laughed. Unconventional was one word for it.
Scene 1 – A Scholar's Entrance
The council hall gleamed with polished jade pillars. Ministers murmured like pigeons in expensive hats.
Then the heavy doors opened and Thanu entered — composed, graceful, head slightly bowed beneath her scholar's ribbon.
Ji-Ho's heart slammed against his ribs.
He tried to look regal, but his hands twitched under the table. Don't stare. You're the prince. Act like it.
Lord Nam cleared his throat. "Scholar Thanu, please present your credentials to His Highness, Crown Prince Ji-Ho."
Thanu stepped forward, unfurling a parchment. "By decree of the Royal Academy, I submit my thesis: On the Cyclical Nature of Time and Fate."
The hall buzzed. The word time rang in Ji-Ho's head like a bell.
Does she remember?
He leaned forward without meaning to. "Cyclical… nature?"
Thanu blinked. "Yes, Your Highness. History, like the seasons, repeats itself until we learn what it intends to teach."
For a moment, Ji-Ho forgot to breathe.
Scene 2 – Etiquette Malfunction
After the council, Ji-Ho found himself trailing behind her through a long colonnade bordered by lotus ponds. Servants bowed as they passed.
He quickened his pace. "Scholar Thanu!"
She turned, startled. "Your Highness?"
Ji-Ho opened his mouth — We died together, you don't remember me, I think I might cry — but what came out was:
"You… dropped this scroll!"
He thrust forward a random document he'd grabbed from Lord Nam's pile.
She looked at it. "This is a tax report on barley exports."
"Right! Very important. You shouldn't— uh— misplace your barley."
An awkward pause. Somewhere, a frog croaked accusingly.
Her lips twitched — the faintest smile. "Your Highness seems… unusually concerned with agriculture."
"Big fan of… crops," Ji-Ho said weakly.
She bowed. "Then I am relieved. The nation's rice supply rests in passionate hands."
He wanted the earth to swallow him whole.
Scene 3 – The Training Yard Mishap
Later that afternoon, Ji-Ho attempted to distract himself by "inspecting" the palace guards. He lasted five minutes before noticing Thanu seated under a willow nearby, sketching diagrams in the dirt.
Lord Nam muttered, "Your Highness, you must focus on sword form."
"I am focusing," Ji-Ho lied, then promptly swung his wooden sword backward— straight into a water bucket.
Splash.
The guards froze. Lord Nam sighed audibly. Thanu bit her lip to hide laughter.
Ji-Ho, drenched, turned crimson. "That bucket attacked me first."
Thanu's laugh finally escaped — bright and sudden, like chimes in wind. Something inside him ached; that laugh had crossed centuries to find him again.
Scene 4 – Dinner at the Royal Table
That evening, the royal family gathered for dinner. The Dowager Queen, a sharp-eyed woman with a fan that doubled as a weapon, presided.
"My son," she said, "word spreads that you spend excessive time with a female scholar. Care to explain?"
Ji-Ho choked on his rice. "I— we discuss philosophy! And barley."
The Dowager narrowed her gaze. "Barley?"
Lord Nam coughed politely. "A shared interest in agriculture, Your Majesty."
Thanu, seated humbly at the lower end of the table as an honored guest, tried not to laugh but failed — a small, betraying snort.
The Queen's fan snapped open. "Scholar Thanu, you find state matters amusing?"
Thanu bowed so quickly her hairpin fell. "N-no, Your Majesty. Merely— appreciation of the Crown Prince's… enthusiasm."
Ji-Ho's ears burned. He met her eyes for half a second, both of them trying not to laugh.
Scene 5 – Moonlit Confusion
Later that night, Ji-Ho escaped to the palace gardens. Fireflies shimmered above the pond, the moon reflected like silver silk.
He leaned on the bridge railing, whispering, "Why here? Why now? Why me again?"
Footsteps. Thanu approached, carrying a lantern.
"Your Highness," she said softly, "you left the council papers unfinished."
He turned. The lantern light painted her face in gold. She looked almost the same — the same warmth, the same calm — and yet she was a stranger.
"I keep thinking I've met you before," she murmured suddenly. "It's strange, but when I see you, my heart… slows down. As if remembering something I've forgotten."
Ji-Ho froze. "You— what did you just—?"
But she shook her head quickly, laughing it off. "Perhaps I read too many philosophy texts. Good night, Your Highness."
She bowed and walked away, the lantern's glow fading between the willows.
Ji-Ho watched her go, every nerve screaming to call out — Don't leave, please remember me — but the words stayed locked behind his lips.
Above him, a meteor streaked silently across the sky — a brief flash, like time trying to rewrite itself.