Chapter Text
Something strange happened to the mirror the very next day. It pulsed faintly even in daylight, its frame trembling as though caught between worlds. Junho stared at it warily, his chest tight. For weeks, it had been his lifeline; his tether to the strange, brilliant girl who had turned his arrogance into reflection, his boredom into wonder, his sneer into something dangerously close to tenderness.
But now, it seemed ready to vanish. When nightfall finally came, Junho rushed in front of it, holding on tightly to its sides as if willing to delay the inevitable.
“Youngwoo,” he whispered, crouching close.
Her reflection appeared slowly. She looked as tired as he felt, shadows beneath her eyes, his eyes.
“I think…” Her voice faltered, then steadied. “I think the mirror cannot hold much longer.”
Junho’s throat tightened. “No. I am not finished learning from you.”
Her lips moved faintly, a ghost of her small, elusive smile. “You have learned enough, Your Highness. More than you think.”
“Do not call me that,” he said quickly. “Not when it is just us.”
She tilted her head, eyes soft. “Then… Junho.”
It was the first time she said his name without hesitation. Something in him cracked.
They sat in silence, two souls stitched together by fate, listening to the faint hum of the mirror.
“I used to believe the world was mine to command,” Junho said at last. “That people were pieces on a board. But you… you showed me what it means to see them. To see beyond myself.”
Youngwoo blinked, her gaze darting down. “I only said what was true.”
“And truth,” Junho whispered, “is the rarest treasure a king could hope for.”
Her lips parted, words caught in her throat. At last, she said softly, “When I return to myself… I will remember this. Remember you.”
Junho’s hands clenched. “And if you forget? If centuries bury me?”
Youngwoo pressed her palm to the glass. “I always remember. But if anything happens otherwise, then I will find you in another lifetime. Whales always return to the sea. And I…” Her voice wavered. “I will return to you.”
Junho pressed his own hand to the mirror, wishing desperately that glass could melt into skin. “Then hear me, Woo Youngwoo. If I live a hundred lives, if I rule a thousand kingdoms, if I had to cross a million doors… in every one, I will search for you.”
Thunder suddenly split the sky. Rain lashed against palace tiles in 1512 and against Youngwoo’s apartment window in 2012, the same storm crossing centuries as if mocking their fragile tether.
The mirror glowed violently. Cracks spidered across its surface.
“Junho!”
“Youngwoo!”
He reached for her, heart hammering, as her image blurred. “Wait! Not yet—”
But the storm had decided otherwise. With a deafening crack, the mirror shattered into light, and their voices were ripped away, flung into silence.
Junho woke in his own bedchamber, drenched in sweat, heart pounding. It all felt like a dream, a cruel yet beautiful dream. His reflection in the polished bronze mirror was his own again. Spoiled prince’s face, untamed hair. No trinkets, no plush whales, no girl waiting with clear, curious eyes. But he was not the same man.
In the days that followed, the Crown Prince stunned the court. He rose earlier than the palace guards, listened to commoners’ petitions in the market, even spoke with compassion in councils. The arrogance remained: Junho was still Junho, but it was tempered, sharpened into something greater.
One day during morning court, he surprised his ministers by questioning, in a calm yet resolute manner, about the fairness of the salt tax — a matter long ignored and accepted as law. His father, the King, raised a brow but said nothing. Beside him, the Queen’s lips curved into a quiet smile, filled with pride. The officials murmured in shock, unused to seeing their Crown Prince speak with conviction instead of carelessness.
When word came that an enemy kingdom sought to invade, Junho did not retreat to the comfort of silk-draped chambers or drown his unease in the company of beautiful courtesans. Instead, he donned his armor and rode at the head of his army, a commander transformed. His courage was mixed with intellect, his strategy with empathy. When he returned, it was not only with victory, but with the fierce loyalty of every man who had followed him into battle.
The library has become his sanctuary. He imagined Youngwoo, in his body, sitting cross-legged by the window among rows of ancient scrolls and ink, poring over the same texts with quiet intensity. He lacked her astounding memory, yet he found himself absorbing knowledge he had once dismissed. Each story of kings and dynasties past revealed a truth he had never seen before: that a ruler’s smallest choices could echo across centuries. In those long hours, he learned discipline, precision, and the art of reflection.
Soon, he roamed the expanse of his kingdom, from the royal gardens to the bustling markets, where the scent of spices mixed with laughter and labor. He listened to merchants, greeted farmers, and lingered to hear the voices that once went unheard. The people, who once feared his arrogance, now watched with awe as he listened with compassion and ruled with fairness. The tale of the Crown Prince’s transformation spread swiftly across provinces. A once-aloof and spoiled royalty had become the people’s charismatic advocate, wise, just, and dazzling in spirit.
Centuries later, history would remember him not as the reckless son of a great king, but as the ruler who surpassed them all. Lee Junho, the monarch who rose like a meteor from vanity to virtue, and whose reign marked one of the brightest eras in the Joseon Dynasty.
The King and Queen watched, astonished. Their son, once a wayward boy, had become a prince worthy of the crown.
But only Junho knew the truth: the lesson had not been born of war or books. It had been born of a girl with whales in her eyes.
He returned to the market often, searching. One crisp autumn morning, he saw her: the peddler with her trinkets, whales and dolphins lined up in neat rows.
“Back again?” She muttered, not even glancing up. “You mocked me once. Shall I curse you twice?”
Junho grinned, bowing slightly, something he had never done to anyone outside the palace. “Perhaps I deserve it. But… if I stay, will you let me buy one of your whales?”
She blinked at him, startled by the softness in his tone. For the first time, her lips curved in a shy smile. Junho’s heart, despite himself, swelled.
“I know I came off as rude the first time,” he began, his tone softer now, the arrogance replaced by something almost boyish. “So please allow me to start over.”
He extended his hand with a disarming smile. “I am Lee Junho. Crown Prince, son of King Lee Sejong and Queen Han Seonyoung of the Great Joseon Dynasty, at your service.”
The peddler blinked once, twice, her mouth slightly open in disbelief. Hesitantly, she reached out, her fingers brushing his for the briefest second. “I’m Woo Youngwoo,” she said softly.
“Woo Youngwoo,” Junho repeated, savoring the name in his lips. “Woo Youngwoo… Your name is quite interesting. It’s still Woo Youngwoo backwards.”
Her eyes widened in alarm. She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “You’re not supposed to say things like that in public,” she whispered, glancing around nervously as if the walls themselves could hear.
Junho’s lips quirked. “Is that so?” He murmured, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Then perhaps… we should take this conversation to the palace?”
Her heart nearly stopped. “A-are you going to persecute me?” She stammered, stepping back in alarm.
Junho laughed, a warm, genuine sound that echoed across the market. “Persecute you? Never. It would be a tragedy to punish someone so clever, so determined.” His tone softened as he took a half-step forward. “In truth, I could use your wisdom in the palace, someone who sees the world differently. Our royal library holds more books than the stars in the sky. You could learn endlessly. And in return,” his eyes met hers with quiet sincerity, “I will do everything in my power to make your life easier.”
Youngwoo exhaled slowly, relief loosening her shoulders, though doubt still clouded her eyes. “Your Highness, I am but a lowly peddler,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “People misunderstand me because I act, think, and speak differently. If you have me on your side, you will lose. It’s better if I’m not part of it at all.” She lowered her head, sadness evident in her face.
For a long moment, Junho simply looked at her. This strange, brave woman who met his royal arrogance not with flattery, but honesty. Something in his chest stirred — admiration, perhaps, or something deeper.
“I don’t care what others say,” he said at last, his voice steady and sure. “I want to be on the same side as you, Woo Youngwoo. I want someone like you to be on my side.”
Her breath caught. She lifted her gaze, meeting his eyes, and her heart began to race for reasons she couldn’t quite name. Slowly, a shy smile bloomed across her face.
“I graciously accept, Your Highness.”
Five Hundred Years Into the Future
The world had changed. The once-mighty Kingdom of Hanbada was now part of the bustling modern city of Seoul, its palaces replaced by glass towers and humming streets. The royal courtyard where ministers once knelt now stood quiet beneath the echoes of school tours and camera shutters as the palace is reduced to a museum.
In the classrooms of Hwamun High, history lessons spoke of a young monarch once feared to bring ruin upon his kingdom. King Lee Junho, whose reign, against all expectation, became one of the brightest chapters in Joseon’s legacy. Students learned his name with reverence, unaware that somewhere across centuries, the woman sitting among them had shaped the king he became.
Life in Ganghwa-do had changed little upon Youngwoo’s return to her own body. People could still be unkind. Doors, both literal and invisible, still refused to open easily for someone like her. Yet something within her had shifted. She carried the weight of her memories... of the palace halls, the kindness in Junho’s gaze, the courage he taught her to see within herself. The world might still be unfair, but she was no longer the same timid girl.
Now, she walked through life with quiet resolve, fueled by her father’s unwavering love, and the steadfast loyalty of friends who stood by her through every trial.
In Seoul, ten years later, Woo Youngwoo stood before the revolving doors of Hanbada Law Firm. The sleek glass shimmered like the surface of a restless sea. She took a deep breath, her heart thundering as she stared at her own reflection.
She had tried so many times to get in, and always almost failed, stuck in the endless loop. But today, she closed her eyes, recalling a promise spoken across centuries.
A voice broke through, warm and steady. “You can step in now.”
Her eyes snapped open. Bowing respectfully, she followed the owner of the voice as they carefully navigated the revolving doors. She sighed in relief as they stepped together in the cold floors of the building lobby.
“The door is so confusing, right?” He spoke once more.
“Thank you,” she replied.
He smiled as he turned to face her. “Where are you headed?”
She turned to face him too, and paused, eyes slightly widening. A man stood there, his hair caught the morning sun in a way that made her blink, his smile boyish yet oddly familiar. Lee Junho.
Her breath caught. Something inside her stirred, like a whale song carried across oceans of time.
“I’m headed to Attorney Jung Myeongseok’s office,” she replied, her voice calm and clear even though her heart is beating so fast. She can't believe it, she finally found him.
Junho chuckled, “I'm headed that way, too. Let's go together.”
Together, they stepped towards the elevator, not knowing what magic lies ahead. Only one thing matters. The river had found its way to the ocean. And this time, it would stay.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🐳🐬 THE END 🐬🐳⋆.ೃ࿔*:･