Chapter Text
Emperor Kwon Soonyoung had long understood that the palace was not simply a place where he lived, but a cage woven from tradition.
The palace itself carried the weight of those old customs.
The curved rooftops with green-glazed tiles were arranged not by artistic whim, but according to ancient palace manuals. The stone pathways followed specific directions to guide energy flow as dictated by the early sages of the dynasty. Even the number of steps leading to the main hall was chosen to represent longevity and fortune. A misplaced stone could disrupt spiritual harmony, or so the elders claimed.
Soonyoung knew all of this by the time he turned seven. He learned early that tradition dictated everything.
Since he was the first son of the Kwon Imperial Household, it was considered right, natural even, that the heavens intended him to inherit the throne. Before he could write his name correctly, ministers already bowed to him with a different kind of politeness. Before his voice deepened, he was already addressed as the future ruler.
He never questioned it.
In the palace, the eldest son must ascend the throne just as the sun must rise at dawn; it was simply the order of things.
His half-sisters, too, were bound by their own roles the moment they were born.
Royal daughters were not meant to remain in the palace forever. Instead, they were raised to be graceful, diplomatic, and beautiful; perfect for creating alliances with neighboring kingdoms. Once they reached the appropriate age, the palace seamstresses dressed them in bright bridal red, their faces veiled, and they left through the grand gates carried in luxurious palanquins.
Soonyoung would watch them disappear, always wondering when, or if, they would ever return.
Tradition, as a child, gave him everything and nothing at the same time. And now that he is the emperor, tradition demanded yet another duty: He must choose an omega consort.
“An emperor without a consort is like a tree without roots,” the elders liked to remind him. “It causes imbalance, a threat to stability.” The ministers repeated this so often that Soonyoung could recite their arguments in his sleep. But he was in no rush. He had never been. Marriage, to him, was not something to take lightly nor something to perform out of obligation.
Yet the process itself was suffocating.
He must not meet the candidates.
He must not speak to them beforehand.
He must only receive scrolls listing basic information and carefully written virtues of each candidate.
And as always, Jeon Wonwoo, his best friend and Royal Advisor, was given the task of reading those scrolls aloud.
Wonwoo entered Soonyoung’s life long before politics hardened his expression. They played at the same garden as toddlers, studied the same books, learned martial arts under the same stern master, and shared late-night snacks stolen from the palace kitchen. Soonyoung saw Wonwoo more than he saw his own parents. He trusted him more than any minister.
Now, Wonwoo entered Soonyoung’s private study carrying a lacquer box filled with scrolls. He gave a small bow more out of habit than necessity. The moment the door closed, the stiff formality was gone.
Wonwoo never called him His Majesty when they were alone. Soonyoung preferred it that way.
“There are even more today than last month,” Wonwoo said, sinking into the seat opposite him.
Soonyoung groaned. “Of course there are. Spring approaches, mothers grow restless.”
Wonwoo snorted and opened the box. “Let us begin before I lose the will to continue.”
He unrolled the first scroll.
“Candidate: Jeon Somi. Nineteen years old. Adept in the four arts, skilled in painting, recently completed advanced lessons in—” He stopped abruptly.
Soonyoung glanced up. “Why the silence?”
Wonwoo rubbed his temple. “…She is my sister.”
A beat.
“…Pass,” Soonyoung said with certainty.
Wonwoo tied the scroll back up, muttering, “I told her to behave. She must’ve sent her name out of boredom. She does not even want to marry, much less into the palace.”
“Perhaps she wished to tease you,” Soonyoung suggested.
“No. She wished to torment me,” Wonwoo corrected with a sour expression.
He opened the next scroll.
“Lady Shin Yerim. Known for her lively personality, fond of large festivals, accomplished in singing and—”
“Too extroverted,” Soonyoung said immediately. “Pass.”
Wonwoo blinked. “You do not even pretend to consider them.”
“I already know she will talk more than I breathe.”
Wonwoo pinched the bridge of his nose.
Next scroll.
“Yoo Saebyeok. Noted for her beauty and—”
“Pass.”
Wonwoo stared. “You did not even let me finish.”
“She frightens the guards, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung said. “She once glared at a soldier so hard he almost dropped his spear.”
“…So, you pass her because she is intimidating?”
“Yes.”
Wonwoo exhaled deeply. “You are going to reject the entire kingdom at this rate.”
“So be it.”
As the list continued, Soonyoung dismissed each name with certainty.
“Pass.”
“No.”
“Pass.”
“No interest.”
Finally, Wonwoo returned the last scroll to the box with a thud. “The ministers will collapse when they hear this.”
“Let them,” Soonyoung said. “They cannot force my hand.”
Wonwoo leveled him with a long look. “You know… they are growing restless. Some even suggest that if you refuse to choose, they will choose for you.”
“Let them try.”
Wonwoo clicked his tongue. “Then they will pester me even more.”
Soonyoung’s gaze softened. “A pity.”
“A pity?” Wonwoo repeated, offended. “I am suffering because of you.”
“You have always suffered because of me.”
Wonwoo opened his mouth, then closed it, defeated. “…Unfortunately, true.”
Soonyoung leaned forward. “Wonwoo.”
“Hm?”
“Since we are speaking of consorts… have you considered finding a mate first?”
Wonwoo froze. “Why would I?”
“So that whoever they push onto me will not grow jealous of you.”
Wonwoo blinked. “…Jealous? Of me?”
“You are an omega,” Soonyoung said plainly. “And you spend more time with me than anyone else. Some might misunderstand.”
Wonwoo gave him a murderous stare. “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.”
“Is it? Kim Mingyu seems to look at you quite often.”
Wonwoo’s eye twitched. “He looks at everyone like that. He is built like an ox and has the mind of a puppy.”
“And what about Crown Prince Moon Junhui of the Eastern Territories?” Soonyoung added casually.
Wonwoo narrowed his eyes. “Do not speak that man’s name.”
“So, he is interesting? Are you interested? I can put in a good word for you.”
“Your Majesty,” Wonwoo said through gritted teeth, “I would rather have an omega breathing down my neck out of jealousy than deal with those alphas.”
Soonyoung laughed, full and unrestrained. It echoed pleasantly around the room.
When the laughter softened, Wonwoo leaned back and folded his arms. “…Still. You, avoiding marriage forever, is not a solution. Those old hags will not stop pestering me. They visit me every day asking when I will persuade you.”
“You do not seem persuaded yourself,” Soonyoung noted.
Wonwoo gave him a look. “Do I appear eager to watch you marry a stranger?”
“So you would prefer someone familiar?”
Wonwoo ignored that. “…Actually, they approached my father. Asked if I could be considered for the position.”
Soonyoung straightened. “They said that?”
“Yes. Even the Prime Minister.” Wonwoo scratched his cheek awkwardly. “My father refused, of course.”
“Why?”
“He said being your advisor already shortens my life enough.”
Soonyoung chuckled. “He is wise.”
Wonwoo sighed. “He also claimed that ministers gossip too much already. Adding romance to it would kill him.”
Soonyoung tilted his head slightly. “Yet you still do not pressure me like they do.”
“Because,” Wonwoo said, quieter now, “I believe in prophecy more than tradition.”
Soonyoung blinked. “Prophecy?”
“A belief in my family,” Wonwoo replied. “My father believes it, too.”
“What prophecy?”
Wonwoo’s gaze steadied. “That the one meant to stand beside you will not rise among the nobles. Fate will guide them to you. They will find you first.”
“…So that is why you do not rush me.”
Wonwoo nodded. “Because I trust you will meet them when the gods allow it. If I knew who they were, I would even help them reach you faster.”
Soonyoung looked toward the courtyard, where sunlight reflected off the pale stones.
And with a quiet breath, he murmured,
“…Then may the heavens not keep me waiting long.”
It was midnight when Wonwoo jolted awake to the sound of something tapping at his window. Not a gentle tap, either. More like someone pestering the panel with the persistence of a child demanding attention.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Wonwoo groaned into his pillow. He had barely slept. The palace ministers had drained every last drop of his patience yesterday—shoving reports his way, demanding he pressure the emperor about the consort matter, and bickering about budget allocations like starving wolves fighting over scraps.
He deserved at least one quiet night.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Wonwoo sat up, already irritated. He grabbed the closest robe he could reach—didn’t even bother checking if it was tied properly—and stomped to the window. With a swift slide of the panel, cold air rushed inside, brushing goosebumps up his arms.
And there, perched on the tiled roof like trouble incarnate, were the last two people he wanted to see at this hour: the Emperor, Kwon Soonyoung, and behind him, wearing the brightest, dumbest beam Wonwoo had ever seen, his Royal Guard, Kim Mingyu.
Wonwoo stared at them, speechless.
Mingyu bowed politely, though the grin never left. “My Lord, you must not open your window without caution. It may be dangerous for an omega.”
Soonyoung nodded, as if Mingyu had just said something profoundly wise.
“Then you must not knock on my window at this hour!” Wonwoo snapped, his voice dangerously loud, but he didn’t care.
Mingyu shrank a little, though the idiot grin never fully left his face. Soonyoung pressed a finger to his lips, trying not to laugh.
Wonwoo groaned. “You two are going to ruin my life.”
“Wonwoo-yah,” Soonyoung said, using the tone he only used when no one was around, “we do not have much time.”
“I am aware,” Wonwoo snapped. “Most people are asleep at this hour.”
Mingyu raised a hand. “We are not.”
“Precisely my problem,” Wonwoo muttered.
The emperor and the guard exchanged a look—one hopeful, one annoyingly enthusiastic.
Wonwoo didn’t need to ask. He knew.
“You’re sneaking out again.”
Soonyoung nodded once, like it was obvious.
“Do not tell me it is the—”
“It is,” Soonyoung said. “The Lee Manor.”
Wonwoo closed his eyes for a long, painful moment. “I told you the last time I accompanied you was the last time.”
“And yet,” Soonyoung said, smiling softly, “here we are.”
Wonwoo wanted to throw himself back into bed and pretend this wasn’t happening. Instead, he whispered to the sky, “Good heavens, save me.”
Ever since Soonyoung was thirteen, he had been sneaking out to visit the ruined manor. The Lee Manor was once a proud noble estate of the Minister of Defense, but it was burned to the ground after the downfall of his entire clan. For years, he had gone back again and again because of the Lee sons.
Everyone believed no one survived the purge—everyone, except Soonyoung.
“That day,” Soonyoung told him once, “the bodies they presented… they were not the ones I spoke to.”
Wonwoo still remembered the chill that ran down his spine when Soonyoung said that. The emperor, then Crown Prince, insisted he had met the Lee brothers before the siege and that the ones that the ministers had shown to his father were strangers. Plus, he knew there were three sons; the eldest should be around his age.
Where are they?
The mystery of the brothers that he never saw among the remains had ignited the young prince’s obsession.
When Mingyu became Soonyoung’s guard, he was dragged in without mercy. He had spent hours crawling under broken beams, digging through debris, peering into dark corners while Soonyoung stood behind him like a scholarly commander supervising a delicate excavation.
Wonwoo remembered Soonyoung’s firm words: “I am certain. They were not the same boys.”
Wonwoo once suggested they might have escaped to another kingdom, but both of them knew it was impossible. When the purge began, the borders were sealed. No child could have crossed unnoticed.
The decree to kill every twelve-year-old tied to treason still haunted Wonwoo. He himself had been twelve that time. He survived only because his father, a close ally of the Prime Minister, received early warning. Many others—especially commoners—had not been so lucky.
Soonyoung’s persistence was not without reason, and Wonwoo understood. He just wished understanding didn’t involve him sneaking out illegally.
Soonyoung leaned a little closer to the window. “Wonwoo-yah, if you refuse to come, I shall go alone.”
Wonwoo glared. “You will not.”
“I will,” Soonyoung said, tone dangerously calm.
“You absolutely will not.”
“I absolutely will.”
Silence.
Then Soonyoung added, casually, “Of course, if I go alone, Mingyu will have to stay with you.”
Wonwoo froze. Slowly, he turned his head toward Mingyu.
The guard waved with both hands, unbearably cheerful. “Good morning again, My Lord!”
Wonwoo’s soul nearly left his body.
He looked back at Soonyoung. The emperor had the smuggest expression on his face, arms crossed, chin slightly raised, eyebrows lifted just enough to say I’ve won already.
Wonwoo shut his eyes, inhaled, and counted to ten, hoping this was just a dream. It did not help.
“…Why do I even serve you?” Wonwoo whispered.
Soonyoung smiled warmly. “Because I trust you.”
That made Wonwoo soften just a little, but his irritation didn’t disappear. “…I hate everything.”
Soonyoung’s grin softened into something warm. “Then, you will come?”
Wonwoo groaned. “I have no choice, do I?”
“None.”
“I despise you.”
“I know.”
Wonwoo grabbed his black outer robe—specifically used for stealth, which he regretted owning now—and wrapped it around himself. He stepped out onto the roof with a solemn sigh.
“This is truly the last time.”
“You said that last time,” Soonyoung reminded.
“And I meant it last time!”
“So, you mean it again?”
“Yes!”
“Then it must be true.”
Wonwoo glared. “Stop talking.”
Soonyoung bit back a smile.
Mingyu whispered excitedly, “It's been too long since we did this!”
“Stop talking,” Wonwoo repeated.
“Yes, My Lord!”
They moved along the roofline with practiced stealth before dropping silently into the courtyard. The night was dark and quiet, perfect for sneaking out.
Wonwoo adjusted his hood, muttering, “If the guards catch us—”
“They will not,” the young emperor said confidently.
“You always say that.”
“And I am always correct.”
Annoyingly, he was.
The three slipped into the narrow path behind the palace’s outer wall. Mingyu moved ahead, clearing the way with surprising grace.
Until, of course, he didn’t.
Just as they reached the final outer gate, Mingyu’s foot caught on a tree root. He flailed once—twice—arms swinging wildly.
Thud.
He fell face-first into the dirt.
Wonwoo stared down at him, already exhausted. “This,” he whispered to the heavens, “is going to be a very long day.”
Once they reached the ruins of Lee Manor, the emperor wasted no time. He walked ahead with purposeful steps, slipping past the fallen beams and shattered stone. Wonwoo and Mingyu followed him, exchanging looks that ranged somewhere between confusion and resignation.
“Soonyoung,” Wonwoo whispered, “Wait.”
The emperor did not answer. He continued deeper into what used to be the courtyard, now a tangle of charred pillars and overgrown stone tiles. The moon cast a pale light over everything, turning the ruins into a skeletal reminder of what once was.
At the far corner of the courtyard, he suddenly stopped before a section of wall smothered in wilted ivy and brittle grass. Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees and began peeling away the vines with both hands, as if digging up a long-buried memory.
Mingyu leaned in and whispered, “What is His Majesty doing?”
Wonwoo sighed. “As if I would be able to tell.”
At last, the vines fell away, revealing a large stone embedded in the wall. It has a slightly different hue, like a piece that didn’t quite belong.
“It should be here,” Soonyoung murmured.
With a firm push to the right, the stone slid aside. A faint scrape echoed, and beneath it, a narrow passageway revealed itself—dark, cold, and hidden behind the drooping curtain of ivy.
Wonwoo blinked. “How do you—”
His question was cut off instantly when they heard footsteps followed by voices.
Wonwoo instantly turned toward the manor entrance. Two silhouettes emerged—first a young woman, stepping lightly over broken stone. Following her was a man carrying a small oil lamp. Their clothing was plain. Commoners.
“What are they doing here?” Wonwoo whispered.
Mingyu frowned. “Regardless, they should not be here. This manor remains restricted.” He straightened his back. “I will handle it.”
Before Wonwoo could stop him, Mingyu marched forward with the authority of a palace guard.
“Hey!” he called, voice sharp.
The woman’s head whipped toward them, eyes wide. The man stepped protectively in front of her, though he did not look intimidated.
“You cannot be here,” Mingyu continued. “State your purpose. If you refuse, I must escort—”
He reached toward the woman’s arm, intending to guide her away.
He never touched her, but the man’s hand shot out, grabbing Mingyu’s wrist. Mingyu’s eyes widened. He tried to twist free, but the stranger moved before he could finish the motion.
With a precise pivot and a sharp pull of leverage, Mingyu hit the ground with a loud thud.
Wonwoo stared, stunned. “What—”
The guard groaned.
The two intruders turned sharply, ready to flee.
But Mingyu, fueled by pure indignation, grabbed the man’s ankle. “No—you—come back here—!”
The man stumbled, then spun, and suddenly they were wrestling on the ground, rolling through dust and debris like two street fighters brawling.
“Soonyoung,” Wonwoo hissed, horrified, “do something!”
“I am!” Soonyoung whispered back, but he was torn between jumping forward and retreating.
When Mingyu took a fist to the chest and fell back with a pained grunt, Soonyoung snapped out of it. “Enough!”
He stepped forward, hands ready to pull the two apart. But then, the woman moved. She slid in front of the emperor with a motion so precise it reminded Wonwoo of military drills. Before Soonyoung could even register what was happening, she struck low, sweeping his legs clean from beneath him.
He crashed to the ground.
Wonwoo’s breath almost stopped. “Soonyoung—!”
The emperor tried to rise, but the woman’s foot pressed down sharply on his chest, pinning him momentarily with startling strength. She didn’t linger. With a quick retreating step, she released him, grabbed the man’s sleeve, and pulled him upright.
“We have to go,” she whispered.
The man nodded, not winded in the slightest.
They turned to flee.
But Mingyu, stubborn even while battered, surged forward and grabbed the man’s ankle. “You’re—not—escaping—!”
The woman, again, spun sharply, kicking Mingyu’s grip free with a precise heel strike. Mingyu fell back, breath knocked from his lungs.
Before either the emperor or Mingyu could rise again, she was already pulling her companion toward the shattered gate.
Within seconds, both intruders vanished into the darkness beyond the manor walls.
Wonwoo stood frozen, staring at the space where they had disappeared. Then, he whispered, barely audible, “…That woman just manhandled both of you.”
Soonyoung, still lying flat on his back, muttered, “Yes… I noticed.”
Mingyu groaned from the dirt. “My Lord… I think she broke my pride.”
Who are those people?