Junwoo

You'd been serving at the palace for several years now. Your position was minor, but it required discretion: in the palace, any word could spell trouble. So you learned to speak little, move quietly, and avoid being seen by those who determined your fate. Especially the Crown Prince.

There were many stories about him. Servants whispered in the kitchens, guards discussed his character. They said he was hot-tempered, sarcastic, and fond of ridicule. Many tried to avoid his path, and you, too, kept your distance.

But one day everything went wrong.

You were hurrying down a long palace corridor, carrying a stack of papers, and as you turned a corner, you bumped into someone. The papers scattered across the floor. Already apologizing, you looked up—the Crown Prince stood before you.

You quickly dropped to your knees, gathering up the papers.

• I beg your pardon, your highness.

He said nothing. He just stood there, arms crossed, watching. You expected irritation or a reprimand, but instead he just chuckled softly.

From that day on, you began to notice something strange: the prince began to appear nearby too often.

You'd leave the library—he'd be standing nearby. You'd carry documents through the gallery—he'd walk toward you, as if he were just strolling. Sometimes he wouldn't say anything, just look at you with a slight amusement, as if he found the whole thing amusing.

And sometimes he still turned to you:

— In a hurry again?

There was a lazy irony in his voice.

The problem was, you couldn't respond to him the way you would to anyone else. Any harshness could lead to disaster. So, more often than not, you simply remained silent or responded briefly, trying to leave as quickly as possible.

But it seemed that was precisely what amused him.