Azaradan
Night — The Crown Prince's Chambers
The dinner table looked wrong.
Kro noticed it the moment she entered.
There was only one plate of rice, neatly shaped, and three side dishes in small portions. No roasted meat. No second helping. No overflowing bowls or stacked trays. For a man known throughout the palace for his appetite, it was suspiciously little.
The maids stood waiting for the next order.
Kro remained at the door, one hand on her sword, wondering why the crown prince had requested so little food that night.
Then Buk looked up.
"Kro, have a seat," he said. "Everyone else, leave the room. Thank you for your service."
The maids bowed and disappeared almost instantly.
And just like that, they were alone.
Kro felt her shoulders tighten.
Still, she obeyed.
She set down her sword and took the seat, careful, uneasy, her palms rubbing against her lap beneath the table. Her head stayed lowered. Looking at him felt dangerous lately, though she did not fully understand why.
Buk looked delighted.
"Let's eat," he said brightly, already reaching for the spoon.
Kro stared at the place set in front of her.
A spoon rested beside the dish, waiting for her to join him.
She didn't touch it.
Buk noticed immediately.
"Why aren't you eating? Do you not like rice? Or perhaps one of these side dishes isn't to your taste?"
Kro finally lifted her eyes. "Why are you doing this, Your Majesty?"
The question seemed to amuse him.
"What do you mean?"
"Why do you want us to share a meal?" she asked. "I know I'm not supposed to question your orders, but… I honestly feel uneasy. As if I've done something wrong."
Buk slowly put down his spoon and pushed the plate aside.
"So," he said, smiling, "you want us to talk instead."
"I want you to tell me what all this means."
Buk leaned back in his chair, "I just wanted to enjoy dinner with my favorite person in the kingdom. I don't think I need permission for that."
Kro's breath caught.
"Favorite person?"
It was such a common phrase in stories and songs, the kind girls blushed over and replayed in their heads all night.
To Kro, it felt strange.
Too strange.
Buk went on as though he had not just set her pulse into confusion.
"What your sister said that day made me think. And the truth is, I don't regret taking you from your family."
Kro's eyes widened slightly.
He said it so simply.
"So spending thirty nights with me shouldn't seem so terrible to them," Buk finished.
Kro straightened. "I don't regret working the double shifts," she said carefully. "I don't. But I want you to let me do my job as it should be done."
Buk watched her.
"Ever since I started coming here at night," she said, "I haven't felt like I'm working. I feel like I'm doing something else."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm supposed to guard you. Protect you. Not stand in your bath chamber. Not share meals with you. I should be outside your room, making sure the palace is safe. Just like every other guard."
Buk rose from his chair.
Then, instead of stepping away, he moved to the chair closer to her and sat there, reducing the distance between them until Kro could feel the shift in the air.
"But I don't want you to be just a guard," he said quietly.
Her fingers tightened over her lap.
"I want us to be friends. I want us to speak like this. What's the point of having you if all you do is stand outside my chamber?"
He smiled at her, soft and warm and unbearably direct.
"I want you to be the last person I see before I close my eyes at night."
The strange feeling inside her grew.
A whirl of heat.
A storm in her chest.
A fluttering in her stomach she hated because she did not understand it. It was as though something inside her was trying to soften, and she did not know how to stop it.
So she reached for the only thing that had ever made sense.
Her father's voice.
You were born to hold a sword, not flowers.
She repeated it silently in her mind.
Swords, not flowers. Swords, not flowers.
It steadied her.
Only a little.
Because when she looked at Buk again, he no longer seemed like only a prince.
And no longer felt like only a friend.
He was becoming something forbidden.
And that frightened her more than any battlefield ever had.
...
Present
Far-Bridge
Leo's voice was sharp in her ear the moment Kro answered the phone.
"Is there something you're not telling me?"
Kro had just come back from the columbarium. She tossed her bag onto the sofa and began dragging her tired feet toward the kitchen.
"Is there something I'm supposed to tell you?" she asked.
"Yes," Leo said at once. "There is."
She sighed, "Which is?"
"The fact that you got shot on Friday."
Kro stopped cold.
Halfway to the kitchen, her entire body stilled.
"How did you know?"
Leo let out a long breath.
"The man who shot you told the minister what he saw. The minister told Misaki to ask you about it. Misaki felt awkward, so she asked me instead."
Kro resumed walking, slower this time.
"What did you tell her?"
Leo answered with unbearable seriousness. "I told her you're immortal. That you can't die. So what the man saw was absolutely true."
Kro nearly dropped dead from irritation.
Then she heard the tease in his voice.
She opened the fridge and glared into it as if it had personally offended her.
"Thank you for playing dumb," she said. "I thought you might've told her the truth."
"You think I'd sell you out?"
Kro snorted. "No. But you seem to have a thing for Misaki. People do very stupid things when they're in love."
"I do not have a thing for anyone."
"Yeah, sure. Keep lying to yourself."
Her eyes landed on a large piece of cake.
That, at least, looked dependable.
She took it out and set it on the table.
"I almost forgot," she said. "You still have the files, right?"
"Yes. I just started going through them. HR also told me you hired a PA already, so I took that file too. I figured you'd want to know before you went mad looking for it."
"No issue there."
Kro sat down with the cake.
"And I need another favor."
Leo groaned dramatically. "Of course you do. What now?"
"As you go through the files, look for anyone with the surname Fang. Or any close family connection to it. I want every trace."
Leo paused, "That's… specific. Important?"
"Yes." Kro cut into the cake, "I'm suspicious."
Leo laughed softly, "And your suspicions are usually right. I know."
"If it takes longer, pass the files to Jipan. He's better with family trees than you are."
"Rude," Leo said. "But fair. I'll do it."
"Good. I need to eat now. Bye."
"Bye, ghost."
Kro hung up before he could say anything else.
Then she picked up her fork and started on the cake with the focus of a woman punishing sugar for existing.
...
Krosmetics Headquarters
MD's Office
Ukraine stared at the khaki envelope on Sue's desk as if it contained poison.
His name was written clearly across the front.
He did not want to touch it.
Across from him, Sue folded her arms and watched him with rising confusion. Every other member of the marketing team had left her office glowing after receiving their envelope. Ukraine was the first one to look personally offended by it.
"Ukraine," Sue said, "it's just a bonus from the CEO. What's wrong?"
He straightened, hands behind his back.
"The bonus is for the new products you all designed. At that time, I wasn't really part of the team. I can't accept the reward."
Sue blinked.
Then pushed the envelope toward him.
"Take it. I'm not taking it back to her. That would be rude."
He didn't move.
"I know it's not a fortune," she added, "but just take it. She'll appreciate that."
Ukraine looked miserable.
"Let's do this instead. Pretend I took it, and now I'm giving it to you. All of it."
Sue stared at him.
Then her expression changed from confusion to irritation.
"What?"
He kept going, sincere and foolish, "I don't need the money. I have enough—"
"Misaki is the daughter of a minister," Sue cut in. "Her family is one of the richest in this country, and I'm sure she has more money than most people here will ever see. Do you know how happy she was to receive hers?"
Ukraine looked at the floor.
Sue pushed the envelope harder across the desk.
"Take it, Ukraine."
That did it.
Her words had found exactly the right place to hit.
He stretched out his hand, took the envelope, and felt his own embarrassment bloom hot under his skin.
"Look," Sue said, softer now, "I know you and Kro are going through something. But whatever it is, let it go."
His head came up quickly. "This isn't— this is not about her."
Sue gave him a knowing look that said she didn't believe that for a second.
"You've heard of Loro, right?"
Ukraine nodded.
"I've worked here for eight years," Sue said, leaning back. "And you have no idea how much Kro and Loro argued. In elevators, meeting rooms, in front of people, in private. They argued like breathing was optional but conflict wasn't."
A small smile touched her lips.
"There were times everyone thought Loro would quit."
Ukraine frowned.
"But she never did."
"Why?" he asked.
Sue looked satisfied now. She had his attention.
"I don't know," she said with a shrug.
Ukraine blinked.
Sue continued, more quietly:
"We live in a world where meeting a genuinely good person feels like a miracle. Kro might turn out to be that miracle for you."
When Ukraine walked out of the MD's office, it felt as if some hidden chapter inside him had been opened without permission.
And for the first time, the mission itself began to feel unstable.
Not impossible.
Just wrong.
...
Afternoon
Café
Misaki carried both drinks back to the table.
Neither of them felt like eating.
The day had been too heavy for that.
She set his drink down in front of him and sat across from him, studying his face as he stared out the window like someone waiting for a verdict.
"I know this is nosy," she said, "but you spent a very long time in the MD's office today. I don't need details. I just need you to tell me everything's okay."
Ukraine gave a weak exhale.
"Everything's fine. It was just awkward. Getting paid for something I didn't really do felt embarrassing."
Misaki nodded.
"Yeah, I get that. But we got jobs to earn money, not to prove suffering. As long as it's clean and you didn't murder anyone for it, take it."
He almost smiled, "I'm grateful. Very grateful. But…"
She tilted her head, "You prefer being her PA, don't you?"
Ukraine went quiet.
Misaki took a sip of her drink and waited.
Finally he said, "If I say I preferred working with her, it'll sound like the marketing team isn't good. So let me say it properly—I got used to being her PA. And it's going to take time to adjust."
Misaki watched him closely.
"You care about her?"
He answered too quickly.
"I mean, I have to."
"That's not what I mean, Ukraine." She leaned forward a little, "I mean, do you care about her? Not as your boss. Not as work. As a person."
He didn't answer right away.
Then, quietly:
"I do."
"You miss her?"
He looked down at his untouched drink.
"I miss working with her," he said. "And I really wanted to keep doing that."
"Did you tell her?"
"I tried. She made it very clear that I'm an asset to the marketing team and that she owes Sue fairness. So… there's nothing I can really do."
Misaki nodded slowly.
That sounded exactly like Kro.
Firm.
Rational.
Cruel without meaning to be.
She watched him for another second, then snapped her fingers in front of his face.
Ukraine jerked slightly.
"What's going on with you?" she asked. "You look miserable. What are you thinking about?"
He looked at her.
Then asked, "Can I ask you something?"
"Shoot."
He hesitated.
"Between someone who worked for a person for many years… and someone who only watched that person from a distance for many years… whose story would you believe?"
Misaki frowned.
"Is it about the same person?"
"Yes."
She answered without hesitation, "The one who worked for them."
Ukraine's eyes sharpened, "Why?"
"Because the one who worked for them actually knows them," Misaki said. "The good and the bad. The habits, the temper, the truth. But the one who only watched from afar? That person can be wrong. They might be seeing what they want to see."
Ukraine's chest tightened.
"Trust me," he said softly, "I know exactly what you mean."
Misaki tilted her head, "Then why are you looking like the world ended?"
He laughed once without humor.
"Because I can't stop thinking about how stupid I've been."
Misaki's expression softened, "I don't know everything you're going through. But you still have a choice."
He looked at her, "How?"
"Get to know the person yourself," she said. "Then decide what to believe."
Same message.
Twice in one day.
First Sue.
Now Misaki.
Ukraine leaned back slowly, the answer settling into him more heavily than he wanted.
If he kept going with the mission the way his family intended, the ending would be brutal. He knew that much. Once the higher-ups got what they needed, Kro would not be treated like a person. She would be handled like a threat. A specimen. A mistake to be contained.
And the thought of helping that happen now made him sick.
What if they were wrong about her?
What if Kro was not some danger waiting to happen?
What if she was simply a woman forced to survive far too long in a world that kept demanding she become harder?
His head was no longer clear.
It was compromised.
And somewhere deep down, he was beginning to understand that the most dangerous thing about his mission was no longer Kro.
It was what knowing her was doing to him.
***