That evening, I sat in my quarters, staring at the flickering oil lamp and wondering what went on between the Prince and his father. He hadn't returned to the training court as promised.
Was everything really okay?
Well, perhaps it couldn't be too bad. A father could call on his son whenever he pleased... right?
Still, the silence in the palace corridors felt unusually heavy. I poked at my dinner, letting my thoughts drift like restless clouds. Hyejin hadn't come by either. Normally, she'd burst in uninvited, gossip spilling out before her shoes even touched my floor.
Maybe she's having fun without me, I thought bitterly. New friends. New duties. New... life.
I sighed. Our paths had split from the very moment I was named the Prince's personal trainer and bodyguard, a job, I should add, that no woman in Joseon seemed to have ever held.
They were strict here. Women were meant to be graceful ornaments, protected, married, soft-spoken. A woman like me? I was an anomaly, a wild leaf that fell into their golden vase.
Sometimes I wondered if they even saw me as a woman at all.
And if I stayed here forever... would I die alone? Unseen, unloved, forgotten behind palace walls?
The thought chilled me. Somewhere along the line, I had stopped fighting to return home. I had gotten comfortable, lulled by the royal routine, the bows, the silks, the stolen smiles.
But I wasn't supposed to belong here. I needed to remember who I was, and find a way back before I lost myself completely.
I was pacing in front of my quarters, lost in that spiral of thought, when his voice nearly stopped my heart.
"Are you troubled again?"
I turned.
The Crown Prince stood there, half in shadow, moonlight curling around him like silk. His face was unreadable, but his eyes… they were softer than usual. Tired.
"Your Highness!" I stammered. "I didn't-I mean, you startled me."
He didn't answer. Just watched me. The way he always did when he thought I wasn't looking. Only tonight... there was something different about his stare. Urgent. Fragile.
He looked like a man unraveling.
I wanted to ask what had happened between him and the King, but words tangled on my tongue. The language barrier still mocked me, tripping me up at every turn. He had learned bits of English, faster than I'd learned Joseon speech. Still, I tried.
But before I could form the question, my thoughts drifted, back to my childhood.
To my father.
To fencing practice.
To the burn of effort and the pride in his eyes whenever I bested the wooden post.
My mother watching us happily, as she took away the used dishes.
If it weren't for him, I'd probably have as little stamina as the Prince, which, believe me, is saying a lot.
The memory made me smile without realizing.
"What made you smile so?" he asked, stepping closer.
Each word rolled gently, but the distance between us shrank with every step. I took one back, then another, until my back met the wall.
Oh no.
This is it.
That scene my best friend always screamed over in her dramas. The classic "cornered against the wall" moment.
Why am I living in a cliché right now?!
The Prince's hand lifted, slow and deliberate. My breath caught.
He's not going to, right?
He stopped mere inches away, eyes fixed on me. His expression unreadable, yet filled with... something.
I felt like I was hyperventilating, as I squeezed my eyes shut, half-expecting a kiss that I didn't know how to handle, and half-praying for divine intervention.
Instead, his hand landed lightly on my cheek. The other pressed against his own heart.
Wait.
What?
He knows that's not how you check someone's temperature, right?
Unless, oh.
His breath trembled, warm against my skin. And then, quietly, he leaned forward, resting his head on my shoulder.
The world went still.
The only sound was his heartbeat, fast, uneven, almost frantic.
I froze, unsure whether to move or breathe. The weight of his head against me... the warmth of his skin... it was too much. Too close.
Was he sick?
Should I call the royal physician?
But then, I remembered something, my mother's embrace, the night when my father was suddenly deployed. How her arms had been the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
Maybe that's what he needed now. Not medicine. Not words. Just... warmth.
So I slowly lifted my arms and held him.
He exhaled, the sound shaky but full of relief. His arms came around me too, tighter, desperate, like he was afraid I'd disappear.
He was warm. Too warm. His breath brushed against my neck, sending shivers racing down my spine.
And when his lips accidentally grazed my skin, the shiver turned to fire.
Our hearts beat in the same rhythm, fast, uneven, alive.
When he finally pulled back, he smiled. Softly. Sadly.
I didn't know why I smiled back, but I did.
He drew me into another hug, tighter than before, as his lips slowly aimed for mine. And above us, the moonlight poured through the open lattice, draping us in silver.
I closed my eyes, bracing for the impossible, for the kiss that I didn't know if I wanted but couldn't resist.
And then...
I jolted upright. My heart was hammering, sweat beading my forehead. My arms flailed, searching the empty space beside me. The quarters were silent. Moonlight streamed through the lattice, cold and indifferent.
It had all been a dream.
Every brush of lips against my shoulder, every desperate heartbeat, every stolen smile, none of it was real. My chest ached from the longing, the warmth I could no longer feel, and a low groan escaped me.
Ugh! I can't even trust my own brain anymore.
I buried my face in the pillow, feeling the blush creeping up my neck. The Prince wasn't here. Poong Yeon wasn't glaring from the shadows. Hyejin wasn't giggling somewhere down the hall. I was alone.
And yet...
The dream had left a mark, a flicker of something dangerous in my chest, the rush of desire, longing, maybe even hope. I shook my head violently, trying to banish it. I couldn't afford to get attached, not here, not now. This was a palace of rules, duty, and intrigue, not fairytales.
Still, I couldn't stop thinking about those impossible soft eyes, even if they had only existed in my imagination for one fleeting, heart-stopping night.
Great. Just great. Now I'm in trouble with my own mind.