The Candles flickered against the polished pillars, their soft light catching in Yeonhwa's lavender robe. She stood near the center, hands folded lightly in front of her, posture perfect but not stiff. Her eyes, dark and calculating, swept briefly over the Crown Prince before lowering with a delicate bow.
Yi Hyeonjin remained seated on the dais, the long lines of his robe falling precisely around him. His jaw was set, the angle sharp, showing the discipline of a man who had commanded armies in his mind even before he left childhood. Yet as his gaze settled on Yeonhwa, there was a subtle softness, a flicker of curiosity in his dark eyes, almost imperceptible but enough to make her pulse quicken.
Yeonhwa's lips curved slightly, not quite a smile, more a practiced shadow of one. She took a careful step forward, her silk slippers whispering across the stone floor. The scent of plum blossom oil clung faintly to her, sweet and subtle, catching the edge of his attention. She could feel it, the weight of his gaze on her, measuring, judging, but not yet revealing what he thought.
The Crown Prince leaned back slightly, fingers brushing the arm of the throne, not in relaxation but in silent calculation. His eyes followed her every movement, noting the delicate tilt of her head, the way her hands rested together, the precise yet fluid way she walked. He did not speak immediately; he never rushed, even when curiosity pricked sharply at him.
Yeonhwa stopped a few paces from the dais, bowing her head low. Her expression was calm, but her pulse raced. She could feel the intensity of his scrutiny, the same kind she had seen in noblemen before but unlike them, he did not seek to intimidate; he simply observed, taking in every detail.
"Rise," his voice finally came, smooth, low, carrying authority that made her spine straighten. It was neither cruel nor kind, simply commanding.
Yeonhwa lifted her head. The moment her eyes met his, she caught a subtle narrowing of his dark irises, a sharpness behind the calm mask. She held his gaze steadily, feeling a quiet tension coil between them, as if the space itself had taken notice of their proximity.
Hyeonjin's lips curved almost imperceptibly, a twitch of amusement that did not reach his eyes. "You are not like the others," he said. The words were light, almost casual, but the weight behind them was undeniable.
Yeonhwa tilted her head, keeping her tone steady, careful. "I am honored, Your Highness." The courtesy was there, but so was an undercurrent of self-control, a reminder that she would not falter.
He studied her closely, as if trying to read not just her face but the mind beneath. Every subtle expression, the faint tightening of her lips, the way her eyebrows barely arched, the steadiness of her hands was a statement in itself. A challenge wrapped in elegance.
For a moment, neither spoke. The air seemed to hold its breath. Candles flickered, shadows stretching long across the stone floors. Yeonhwa's heart thumped audibly in her chest, though she forced herself to remain still, poised, a courtesan in every outward detail but a survivor in every internal one.
Finally, the Crown Prince leaned forward slightly, resting an elbow on the arm of the throne. His gaze softened just enough for her to notice. "Sing," he said simply.
Yeonhwa lifted her hands to her lap, bowing her head slightly. The faintest hint of a smile touched her lips, one of quiet acknowledgment, as she began to hum the first notes of a soft melody. The song was gentle yet layered, carrying an emotion that drew the room's attention even in the emptiness.
Hyeonjin remained still, his eyes fixed on her, reading her every breath, every subtle movement. The candlelight reflected in his dark hair, and for the first time, Yeonhwa saw the man beneath the crown, disciplined yet alive with a quiet intensity that was as sharp as it was compelling.
Outside, the distant fireworks began, a muted echo of celebration, but inside the hall, time seemed suspended. Only Yeonhwa's song and the steady, unyielding gaze of the Crown Prince existed in that golden space.
And in the shadows near the side of the hall, unseen, Prince Dowon—Han Jae leaned casually against a pillar, mask of the stoic royal still in place. But the twinkle in his eye betrayed the liveliness beneath, watching, amused, intrigued, and waiting for the night's story to unfold.
---
The melody was delicate, the notes struck a chord deep within his chest, unearthing a memory long buried. His mother's voice, tender and unwavering, singing this very song on quiet evenings, returned as vividly as if she were there beside him. The warmth, the softness, the care... it hit him like a tidal wave.
Hyeonjin's throat tightened. His dark eyes glistened. He blinked furiously, but the tears would not be denied. His hands gripped the arm of the throne, knuckles white. All the discipline, all the years of command and control, felt suddenly fragile. The crown he bore seemed heavier than ever.
From the shadows, Prince Yi Dowon moved. Known to the court as the calm, stern younger prince, he now carried himself like a living shield. His steps were silent but deliberate, the air around him taut with authority.
He passed between Hyeonjin and Yeonhwa,never turning, never glancing at anything.
Dowon reached the edge of the dais and stopped. His presence alone was enough to steady the Crown Prince.
Hyeonjin's chest rose and fell rapidly. He struggled to blink the tears away, his jaw set, but his eyes betrayed him, soft, unguarded, human. Dowon's sharp gaze lingered briefly on him, assessing, protective, silent. No words were exchanged. None were needed.
The younger prince leaned slightly, subtly closing the space, as if daring any threat to come closer. In that quiet command, Hyeonjin found strength. His hands loosened from the throne's arms, his shoulders eased, and the tight coil of emotion within him softened, though the tears still shimmered unshed at the edges of his lashes.
Dowon straightened, a faint half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips, an expression rare and fleeting. To anyone watching, he remained the dutiful prince, stern and precise. But the sharp glimmer in his dark eyes hinted at life, mischief, and a depth Hyeonjin knew well.
For a long moment, the brothers simply existed together in the quiet hall. No words, no gestures, only the silent communication of blood and trust. Hyeonjin's vulnerability remained, but it was tempered by the unwavering presence of Dowon.
He stayed next to his brother until the song finished. Never turning his back to face Yeonhwa.
"Dismissed" he finally whispered, his voice loud and authoritative enough for Yeonhwa to hear. Without hesitation, she bowed and quickly left.
Finally, Dowon shifted, "You really can't hide it, can you?" Dowon said softly, voice teasing. "The crown isn't heavy enough to make you look like a stone statue?"
Hyeonjin glared, though the corner of his mouth twitched. "It's not a display, Dowon. Some things require discipline."
"Discipline, hmm?" Dowon moved closer, smirking. "Discipline doesn't usually make your nose pink, you know. Or your eyes glisten like..." He stopped abruptly, suppressing a laugh.
Hyeonjin's cheeks flamed. "I... I was caught off guard. Nothing more."
Dowon shook his head, laughing quietly. "You're like a child sometimes, Hyung."
Hyeonjin's jaw tightened but the corners of his mouth betrayed him, lifting into a reluctant grin. "And you? Always acting like a jester, even in a palace hall."
"I am… multifaceted," Dowon said with mock gravity. "Tonight, I'm your protector, your shadow, your comic relief, choose whichever role you prefer."
Hyeonjin snorted, the sound soft, almost inaudible, but it startled him. "Comic relief, huh? Maybe I should lock you in a cellar next time."
"Ah, yes, put the terrifying prince in a dungeon. Brilliant plan, Hyung," Dowon replied with exaggerated admiration, bowing theatrically.
For a moment, neither moved, just looking at each other. The air was lighter than it had been all day, and the tension slowly melted. Hyeonjin's shoulders relaxed, a small laugh escaping before he could stop it. Dowon's eyes twinkled, pleased at the victory.
Then Hyeonjin suddenly shook his head, covering his face with one hand as a loud, frustrated laugh bubbled out. "Why… why does this feel… why do I feel like bawling?"
Dowon froze, pretending not to notice the slight wobble in his brother's voice, but a small grin spread anyway. "Bawl? Hyung, you sound ridiculous."
"I don't care! I just…" Hyeonjin's shoulders shook as he buried his face into his hands. "It's been a long time… and that song… it reminded me of... " He stopped, taking a shaky breath, the laughter turning into quiet, heartfelt sobs.
Dowon moved without thinking, crouching slightly, and placed a hand gently on his brother's back. "It's okay, Hyung. Cry. No one's here."
Hyeonjin leaned into the comfort, letting his vulnerability spill into the hall. Dowon, suppressing his own amusement and emotion, stayed by his side, letting the moment stretch, the candlelight reflecting softly on their faces.
When the sobs subsided, Hyeonjin straightened slightly, cheeks red, eyes still glistening. He let out a breathy laugh. "You… you're awful, you know that?"
"And you," Dowon replied, grinning, "look pathetic when you cry."
Hyeonjin rolled his eyes, but then, suddenly, he moved forward and wrapped a firm arm around Dowon's neck in a playful, almost aggressive hug. "Come on. Let's get out of here before someone notices I look like a fool."
Dowon laughed loudly, catching his brother's weight and matching it with ease. "I will haunt you for this for years, Hyung."
"And I'll still be laughing every time," Hyeonjin said, voice softening, a genuine smile tugging at his lips.
The two brothers stepped into the corridor, still wrapped in each other's arms, laughing and joking quietly, shadows of the candlelight dancing along their faces. Their sounds echoed softly through the empty halls, a rare moment of unguarded joy in a palace that demanded perfection.
The princes turn crazy when it's just the two of them.
---
After they parted, the Crown Prince went to the study. Inside the candle light flickered catching the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the heavy crease of his furrowed brow. Scrolls, maps, and letters were scattered across the long desk, some weighted down with carved jade stones. Prince Hyeonjin sat stiff-backed in his crimson robes, eyes skimming the document before him, though it was clear his mind was elsewhere.
Outside the open lattice doors, the sounds of the palace slowly quieted with the falling night, except for one voice.
"Hyungnim!"
The Crown Prince didn't look up.
"Hyuuung-nim," came the sing-song call again, closer now.
"I am busy, Dowon," Hyeonjin replied, voice cold and clipped.
From behind the screen stepped Prince Dowon in full swagger, dressed plainly in a black robe with the belt loose around his hips, hair slightly messy as if he'd already been out. He carried the unmistakable scent of roasted chestnuts and plum wine.
"Busy with what? Staring at ink?" Dowon asked, peering over his shoulder. "You haven't blinked in five minutes. Your eyes look like dried persimmons."
Hyeonjin finally turned to glare at him. "Is there a reason you're here?"
Dowon leaned against the desk, balancing on one leg. "Yes. I came to rescue you from a slow death by boredom. There's a new tavern near the riverbank. They say the drinks make even old eunuchs sing."
"No."
Dowon blinked. "No?"
"I said no," Hyeonjin replied, dry as ever. "I do not have time to gallivant like you. I'm the Crown Prince."
"You're also a man who hasn't smiled since last winter."
"I smile."
"When?" Dowon leaned in, eyes wide with mock curiosity. "When someone falls down the stairs?"
Hyeonjin's mouth twitched — barely — and Dowon grinned.
"I appreciate the thought, but not tonight," Hyeonjin said, softening just slightly. "There are matters to review before court tomorrow."
Dowon stood upright and gave a slow, exaggerated bow. "As you command, oh solemn one."
He turned to leave but paused at the door. "Oh, one more thing... "
The moment Hyeonjin looked up, a soft thud echoed in the study.
Boom... Darkness.
---
...Somewhere Outside the Palace Walls
The chill of night air brushed against Hyeonjin's face. His eyes fluttered open to the scent of grilled meat, steaming broth, and the distant hum of music and laughter.
He jolted upright.
"Where the hell am I?" Hyeonjin blinked as he stumbled to his feet, eyes adjusting to the dim torchlight of a narrow alley behind a busy marketplace. "Dowon?" he turned, only to be met by a stranger with tousled hair, a cocky grin, and a lantern swinging from one hand.
The "stranger" gave a dramatic bow. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Your Royal Sleepiness."
"Did you drug me?" Hyeonjin hissed, narrowing his eyes.
Dowon tilted his head with mock innocence. "Of course not. I only... gently convinced your skull to take a nap."
"You knocked me out?!"
"Semantics." He tossed a cloak at him. "Put this on. You're wrinkling the vibe."
"I'm going to kill you," Hyeonjin muttered, but he slipped the cloak over his commoner garb anyway, adjusting it to cover the palace embroidery Dowon clearly forgot to remove. "Why am I dressed like a merchant's runaway son?"
Dowon grinned. "Because you needed a night off. And I needed someone to split the bill with."
"You're insane."
"Debatable. But we're out now, so let's enjoy it." Dowon nudged him forward. "We'll blend right in."
The two princes, now disguised as two ordinary young men, made their way through the buzzing night market. Lanterns glowed like soft moons strung across wooden stalls. A drunken musician was playing a fast, clumsy rhythm on a gayageum, and nearby a woman was selling sweet rice cakes with honey syrup that stuck to your lips when you smiled.
Dowon was already biting into one.
"You dragged the Crown Prince of Hwayeon out here… for dessert?" Hyeonjin scoffed.
"For freedom," Dowon replied through a mouthful. "But yes. And also for that gambling den across the street."
Hyeonjin looked where Dowon pointed and blinked. The "gambling den" looked like an old tea house except no one inside was drinking tea. Laughter, shouting, and the clinking of coins filled the air.
"I am not going in there."
"Yes, you are."
"I have royal duties..."
"And I have excellent taste in chaos."
Before Hyeonjin could protest again, Dowon grabbed his wrist and yanked him across the street, dodging a lantern seller and a man yelling about stolen radishes. The Crown Prince stumbled once, then found himself laughing softly, unsure why.
Inside, the tea house was loud and warm. Ink-stained men and dusty travelers lined the floor, eyes glued to a board game that looked nothing like baduk. A woman in red was winning and slapping her opponents on the head.
Dowon ducked under a curtain and handed the innkeeper a few coins. "A room. And some of that rice wine that made that general pass out last week."
"You again?" the innkeeper snorted. "Don't bring royal drama into my house."
"Do I look like royalty?" Dowon twirled dramatically. "I'm Han Jae. Street scoundrel. Collector of hearts and debts."
The innkeeper rolled his eyes. "Upstairs. But don't spill anything."
As they climbed the creaking wooden stairs, Hyeonjin looked at his younger brother's back. He wasn't used to this side of him, loose, laughing, alive. Dowon always stood straight in the palace, his voice clipped and cold. But now…
"You're completely different out here."
Dowon paused at the top of the stairs, glancing back. "Maybe. Or maybe this is who I've always been."
[Back to Yeonhwa]
The laughter had long faded. So had the warmth of the wine and the golden glow of lanterns.
Yeonhwa walked slowly down the empty stone corridor, her pale pink sleeves trailing like flower petals brushing the cold floor. Her steps were silent, practiced, each movement graceful even in solitude.
But inside, she was trembling.
She had sung a lullaby.
A lullaby that did not belong in a palace hall. One that was meant for quiet corners and tearful nights. One her mother used to hum, just once, before she...
She blinked hard.
She had sung it... for the Crown Prince. And she had seen something , no, felt something when his eyes glistened, as if the past had reached out and touched him the same way it often haunted her.
But then he came.
That man.
The cold one who walked with the weight of storms in his eyes.
He hadn't even looked at her. Just brushed past like she was furniture.
"Enough," he'd said. That was all. Dismissed like a fly from a banquet.
Her fingers curled around the edge of her sleeve.
The other girls would've run out crying or thrown a tantrum. But not her. Yeonhwa was trained. Composed. Measured. Yet…
Yet she felt like a forgotten note in a broken song.
She paused at the far end of the corridor, where the last flicker of candlelight danced on the paper screen of her quarters.
Behind it was the same room she returned to every night: modest, spare, suffocating.
She didn't step in.
Instead, she leaned against the wooden pillar just outside, eyes lifting to the dark sky. Clouds swallowed the moon tonight, and the silence stretched like a wound.
She whispered to herself.
"I wasn't dismissed because I was boring."
The night didn't respond.
Her lips tightened. "He just didn't want anyone to see his brother cry. That's all."
Still nothing.
"Still…" she said softer, "...you could've looked at me, even once."
Her voice cracked, just slightly.
Then she chuckled bitterly, shaking her head. "Look at me. Talking to a man who didn't even blink."
She finally entered her room.
Inside, she poured herself a cup of cool tea, but it tasted of nothing. She didn't light the candle. Didn't remove her makeup. She just sat in the dark, sleeves wrapped around her knees, and stared at the floor.
And slowly, without permission, a single tear fell.
Not because of him.
Not because of being dismissed.
But because the song… that song… reminded her of her mother, her hugs, her cooking and laugher.
She suddenly drifted to sleep without changing her attire.
---