Ahh, life in the palace. No fun, no action, no chaos,That's what I would've said if this place was actually boring.
But no. Here, every sunrise brings a brand-new scandal. One day, it's a servant's mysterious disappearance; the next, the Crown Prince manages to "accidentally" set the royal kitchen on fire. (Long story.)
This palace is its own universe, glittering, dangerous, exhausting, and the Crown Prince?
The undisputed architect of every single drama.
It's been two months since I arrived, and somehow I'm still standing.
The morning sun spills across the courtyard, gold and soft. "It must be Sunday," I mutter, stretching. I head outside, shaking off sleep and sliding into my usual routine: warm-up stretches, sword practice, a bit of gymnastics flair, because if I'm stuck in the past, I might as well look fabulous doing it.
After all, I'm a bodyguard now. (Still wild saying that out loud.) Keeping myself sharp isn't optional, it's survival.
The blade whistles through the air, slicing invisible lines that shimmer against the light. The wind rushes cool against my skin. I close my eyes, exhale, and swing again, until a voice breaks through.
"Hey!"
A familiar accent. Too familiar.
I turn. The Crown Prince, in all his smug glory, grinning like he invented the English language.
Oh no.
Whoever thought it was a good idea to teach him English should be publicly flogged.
Hopefully, this little cultural exchange won't cause a butterfly-effect disaster in the future. Because if there's one thing I've learned from time travel movies: Back to the Future, Interstellar, The Time Machine, you name it, it's this:
Never reveal major future events.(Like nuclear bombs. Not that I'd tell him Hitler existed, or that humanity literally nuked itself. But yeah… no.)
Never change what's destined to happen.(Imagine messing with the birth of Jesus, boom, apocalypse.)
And definitely, definitely don't tell them monarchy gets replaced by democracy, which, by the way, is still just a fancier way of pretending everyone's free while the rich get richer.
So, no spoilers for history. Got it.
"Hello!" The prince waves a hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my ranting thoughts. His eyes, warm brown, almost amber, are too close, studying me like I'm some rare artifact. He repeats the new English words he learned, over and over, his accent adorably awful.
Before he can say "hello" a fourth time, I drop him flat on his back.
"You shouldn't be here," I grin, leaning over him. Sunlight catches his face, soft features, flushed cheeks, lips too pink for my sanity. His breath stutters, and so does mine.
The longer I stay here, the harder it is to ignore the obvious: I'm falling for him.He's exactly my type, tall, childish, mysterious, with eyes that look like they've seen centuries.
Ahhh-hhh!!!
I remind myself sharply, "We're not supposed to spar today." My words come out smoother, sharper, I've been getting better at the language, and he notices.
He just stares, eyes flicking between my face and, oh no.
My hand.
Where it shouldn't be.
Realization hits us both at once. I jerk my hand back so fast I nearly fall over. His face goes redder than a Joseon apple. The silence that follows is thick. I scramble up, dusting myself off like nothing happened.
He stands too, brushing imaginary dust off his robe. "I-I was bored," he says finally.
Of course. Because crashing my training session is apparently his cure for boredom.
I cross my arms, fighting a smile. "That's your excuse?"
He tilts his head. "What is it?"
"What?"
"You smiled," he says softly. "Did you find something amusing?"
"Nothing," I reply quickly, too quickly.
"You should smile more." His voice drops lower, serious now. "When you do… your eyes sparkle."
He freezes the moment the words leave his mouth, eyes widening. "I-I didn't mean-"
But it's too late. We're both smiling like idiots now. The tension breaks, replaced by awkward laughter echoing off the courtyard walls. For a brief, ridiculous moment, it's just the two of us, no crown, no titles, no timelines. Just… us.
"Your Highness!"
A eunuch's voice shatters the moment. "The King seeks your presence."
The prince hesitates, glancing at me as if silently asking permission to go.
I nod, forcing a grin.
He gives a small bow, still smiling that soft, stupid smile, before turning away. The sunlight glints off his robe as he disappears toward the King's chambers.
And just like that, I'm alone again, sword still in hand, heart not quite steady.
I stare at the empty space he left behind, and the truth seeps in: whatever this thing is between us, it's dangerous.
Our eyes linger too long, our hands brush too often. There's always that invisible thread, tension, curiosity, something that feels ancient and new all at once.
I shake it off, trying to focus, but my gaze catches another.
Poong Yeon.
The prince's bodyguard. Always watching. Always silent. His stare cuts through me like a blade, dark and unreadable.
Since I came to the palace, his eyes have followed me, not with affection, but calculation. Like a predator waiting for a mistake. Maybe he resents me for taking his position. Maybe he knows something I don't.
Either way, one thing is clear: this palace is full of masks.And not everyone behind them is a friend.
Dad's voice echoes in my mind, steady and grave:"Keep your eyes on your enemies, Bella. They'll smile first before they strike."
I tighten my grip on my sword, staring into the courtyard's shadowed edges.
And in this palace, the prettiest cage in the world, everyone might be holding a knife.