The silk whispered as it settled against her skin.
Bella stood still.
For a moment, just a moment, she did not recognize the girl staring back at her.
The candlelight caught along the red fabric, turning it into something alive. Gold threads shimmered like they had been spun from fire itself. The soft cream jeogori rested delicately against her shoulders, the weight of it lighter than she expected, and yet somehow heavier in meaning.
Hyejin circled her slowly, hands clasped behind her back, eyes wide with quiet triumph.
"There," she breathed. "Perfect."
Bella exhaled, her fingers brushing over the skirt again, smoothing a crease that did not exist.
It felt like stepping into a version of herself she had never been meant to become.
"Don't look like that," Hyejin said, narrowing her eyes. "You look as though you're about to walk into battle."
Bella huffed softly. "I usually am."
"This is not battle," Hyejin insisted, stepping closer to adjust a loose strand of hair. "This is worse."
Bella snorted, but the sound faded quickly.
Because somewhere beyond the walls, the lanterns were already being lit.
And somewhere beyond those lanterns.
He was waiting.
The corridor outside her quarters felt different now.
Quieter.
Or perhaps it was only her.
Each step echoed too loudly in her ears, the soft brush of silk against her legs unfamiliar, the faint scent of the perfume he had sent lingering around her like something she could not quite escape.
She moved through the palace with practiced ease, head slightly lowered, steps steady, but her pulse betrayed her.
Faster.
Uncertain.
Anticipating.
By the time she reached the western rear passage, the sounds of the festival had begun to rise in the distance, music, laughter, the low hum of a city coming alive.
The hidden gate stood where it always had.
Unremarkable.
Quiet.
Waiting.
And so was he.
Ji-ho stood just beyond the shadow of the stone arch, dressed simply for once, though nothing about him could ever truly be called ordinary. The lantern light from the far courtyard brushed faintly against his figure, outlining him in soft gold.
Carefully crafted, its paper frame pale against his hands, its shape simple but elegant, clearly not something bought in haste, but chosen.
For a second, Bella forgot to move.
Ji-ho looked up.
And just like earlier, just like every time he saw her lately, something in his expression softened before he even spoke.
"You're late," he said quietly.
Bella exhaled. "I had to make sure I didn't look like I was sneaking out of a palace."
His gaze moved over her then.
Slow.
Deliberate.
It wasn't the first time he had looked at her tonight, but something about it now felt heavier. Like he was noticing everything he had been holding back from noticing.
The silk.
The way the light caught her hair.
The faint trace of perfume he had sent.
His throat moved slightly, as if he had forgotten how to swallow properly.
"…Bella," he said again.
This time, smoother.
Still imperfect.
But intentional.
Her name sounded different coming from him now. Less foreign. More claimed.
She stepped closer without thinking. "You're holding a lantern."
"I am," he said.
A pause.
Then, quieter:
"I thought we should take part properly."
That surprised her.
Bella tilted her head slightly. "Properly?"
Ji-ho's eyes flicked toward the distant festival lights.
"For once," he said, "not as Crown Prince… and not as someone who has to watch from afar."
He lifted the lantern slightly between them.
"Just… like everyone else."
Something in Bella's chest shifted at that.
Carefully, she reached out and touched the edge of the lantern.
The paper was warm from his hands.
"You bought this?"
"I had it made," he admitted.
Of course he did.
That was Ji-ho.
Not careless even in rebellion.
Not loud even in longing.
Bella let out a quiet breath that almost sounded like a laugh. "You could've just picked one from the festival."
His gaze held hers.
"I didn't want just any lantern."
The words landed softly.
Too softly.
A beat of silence passed between them.
Then Ji-ho stepped slightly closer to the gate light, and Bella finally saw it, how carefully he had been waiting for her, how still he had been standing.
Like this moment mattered more than the entire festival behind them.
"Come," he said gently.
And for once, it didn't sound like a command.
The festival swallowed them quickly.
Lanterns floated in clusters above the streets, glowing like captured stars. Vendors called out over the hum of music. Children ran past them, laughing, weaving between legs and silk sleeves.
For a moment, Ji-ho did not walk ahead.
He matched her pace.
Side by side.
Close enough that their sleeves brushed more than once.
Each time, neither of them moved away.
They stood close at the table.
Too close for it to be accidental.
Ji-ho reached for a brush first, but his hand paused briefly, as if he had noticed how near she was before deciding not to move away.
The brush moved slowly across the paper.
Deliberate.
Careful.
Bella tried not to look.
She failed anyway.
Her eyes kept drifting, past the paper, past the ink, to him.
The way his brow eased when he focused.
The way his fingers held the brush like something breakable.
Like tonight itself might shatter if he wasn't careful enough.
When he finished, he folded the paper without showing her.
No hesitation.
Just certainty.
"Of course you're secretive," Bella murmured.
His gaze lifted slightly. "It is tradition."
"For royalty?"
"For wishes and prayers made."
That made her huff, but the sound softened before it fully formed.
He didn't move away after speaking.
Not even slightly.
His eyes shifted to her hands.
Still empty.
Still hesitating.
"You're not writing," he said.
"I am thinking," she replied quickly.
A pause.
Then, quieter from him:
"That is dangerous."
Bella let out a breath that almost turned into a laugh.
"Everything I do in this place is apparently dangerous."
That made him still, not visibly, but she felt it in the air between them.
Like something inside him tightened at her words.
"Not everything," he said after a moment.
His voice had softened.
Lower now.
"Only the things that make you… noticeable."
Bella looked up at him sharply.
That word sat between them longer than it should have.
Noticeable.
Not wrong.
Not praised.
Just seen.
She looked away first.
"…That sounds like a problem," she said lightly.
"It is," he replied.
But his eyes said something else entirely.
Like it was also something he couldn't stop himself from wanting.
Finally, Bella wrote.
Her brush hesitated before touching the paper.
Then moved.
Once.
Twice.
No decoration.
No hesitation after that.
When she finished, she stared at it too long, as if she could still take it back.
Her fingers tightened slightly before she folded it quickly.
"Done," she said.
Ji-ho didn't ask.
He never did.
But his gaze stayed on her face instead of the paper.
Like that was where the truth was.
They tied their wishes beneath the same lantern.
Side by side.
Close enough that their sleeves brushed again.
Neither of them pulled away.
A passing breeze lifted the lantern slightly, and Ji-ho instinctively shifted half a step closer, subtle, almost unconscious, shielding it from tipping.
From her too.
He didn't notice he had done it.
Bella did.
Ji-ho lit the lantern.
A small flame bloomed inside.
Warm.
Fragile.
Breathing.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The silence wasn't empty.
It was full of everything neither of them were saying.
The lantern lifted slowly.
Bella watched it rise, her reflection faint in its glow.
"…What did you write?" she asked quietly.
Ji-ho didn't look away from the sky.
Not immediately.
When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than before.
"If I tell you," he said, "it may not stay true."
That made her lips twitch faintly.
"You're impossible."
A pause.
Then,
"What about you?" he asked.
Bella's fingers tightened around the edge of her sleeve.
The words came out quieter than she intended.
"I wrote that I want you to survive the battle to come."
Ji-ho didn't react immediately.
But something in him failed to stay still.
It wasn't obvious at first, only a slight shift, like his breath had caught somewhere it wasn't supposed to.
His fingers tightened once around the folded paper in his hand.
Then loosened again, as if he had forgotten what to do with them.
She continued anyway.
"That you become the kind of king who doesn't lose himself. That you don't break under everything waiting for you."
A pause.
Smaller.
Almost swallowed by the night.
"And that the people who matter to you… get to stay alive long enough to see you become great."
Silence.
Not empty.
Heavy.
Ji-ho finally exhaled, but it wasn't steady.
It broke slightly in the middle, like something in his chest had shifted too sharply.
When he spoke, his voice was lower now.
Not because he wanted it to be.
Because it had to be.
"You speak of me like you're not part of that future."
Bella froze.
For a second, she didn't breathe.
Because he was right.
And because she hadn't even realized she was doing it.
Her fingers tightened around the fabric at her wrist, as if that could anchor her back into the moment.
Ji-ho didn't look away.
He never did when it mattered.
"I also wrote that ," she added quickly, softer now.
Her throat tightened.
"…that I get to go home one day."
The last line landed differently this time.
Not just as truth.
But as distance.
As something pulling away from him.
For a moment, Ji-ho didn't move at all.
Even the air around him felt like it had stopped obeying time.
Then slowly, carefully, he turned his head toward her.
Not fully.
Just enough to see her.
And when he did, his expression wasn't composed anymore.
It had slipped.
Just slightly.
Like a mask held too long in place.
His eyes lingered on her face as if he was memorizing something he didn't have permission to keep.
"…Of course you do," he said quietly.
But the words didn't sound like acceptance.
They sounded like something he was trying not to break on.
A pause.
Longer than before.
His fingers lifted slightly, hesitated near hers.
Then stopped just before touching.
Like he was afraid contact would make this moment real enough to lose.
"You think too much about leaving," he said again.
Bella let out a quiet breath.
"Of course I do," she said gently. "It's my home. As this is yours."
That made something flicker across his face.
Not anger.
Not argument.
Something worse.
Recognition.
Because he understood the difference.
And couldn't argue with it.
His fingers moved before he could stop them.
Lightly brushing hers.
Not holding.
Not claiming.
Just checking.
Like he needed to make sure she was still there.
Still real.
"…Stay close tonight," he said again.
But this time it didn't sound like a request.
And it didn't sound like an order either.
It sounded like something slipping out of him before he could decide whether he was allowed to say it.
Bella didn't tease him.
Didn't question it.
Just nodded slightly.
"…I am."