The small, hidden pond on the palace grounds was not grand, but it was quiet. It was the only place Maya felt the familiar comfort of water, far from the crashing Joseon sea and the political storms of the court.
One afternoon, Maya slipped away, sitting on the mossy edge, letting the chill air soothe the tension in her neck. She was exhausted—the land reform struggle had been a marathon, and the West-Seu delegation's arrival had brought crushing mental fatigue.
Dong-jin found her there, not announcing himself, but simply sitting a respectful distance away. He was observing her, not as the future Empress Anansi, but as Maya.
"I used to hate this place," Dong-jin confessed, throwing a small pebble into the pond. "The silence here is so absolute. It always felt like the silence before a trap was sprung."
Maya finally turned, a small smile touching her lips. "I love the silence. It reminds me of the deep ocean. When you dive far enough, all the noise of the surface—the winds, the waves, the people—it vanishes. Only your own heartbeat is left."
"And what does your heart say now, when it's the loudest voice?" he asked gently.
She stared into the dark water, which held the reflection of the ancient moon. "It says that the sea is one thing, and the river is another. The sea is home, vast and demanding. The river flows, and it can change its course. It can choose where to join."
Dong-jin moved closer, resting his hand near hers on the cool stone. "I see a woman who can command the sea and redirect the river. You have already chosen, Maya. You chose Joseon when you stopped Choi's assassins. You chose your people when you passed the land reform. You chose justice over vengeance."
He didn't press for an answer about the two crowns. Instead, he simply reached out and dipped his finger into the pond, creating a single, small ripple that disturbed the perfect reflection.
"The water remembers the slightest touch," he said. "Just as this kingdom remembers the peace you brought it. Rest here, Maya. And remember that whatever crown you wear, the true power is the peace you create."
For the next hour, they sat in companionable silence, two rulers-in-training, finding a rare moment of sanctuary where the weight of two thrones was forgotten, replaced only by the language of the quiet water.