Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

11

Jisung sits in the dining room, his mother’s voice echoing off the walls and her words briefly registering in his mind. He tries to keep his eyes open as he picks at his lunch, his chin heavily resting in his palm. The sun streams through the window behind him, casting slivers of golden light onto the wooden dining table. Jisung allows his gaze to stray towards the other window next to him, his thoughts drifting to the tall trees towering over the houses that feel so far away. The houses that Jisung painfully wishes he could see in person.

“Jisung! Are you listening?”

His mother’s sharp tone snaps him back into reality. He fixes his posture and turns back towards her. “Yes, mother.”

She sighs, gently setting down her fork, the quiet clang of metal against her plate amplified by the tall ceiling. She frowns at him in disappointment. “You’re getting to the age where you need to know about these things. You’re the heir, Jisung; in a couple of years you’ll be participating in the council, and with a little more time you’ll be in my shoes. It’s important that you pay attention.”

Jisung shifts uncomfortably in his seat. The thought of his responsibilities becoming more than just attending his training sessions, finishing his schoolwork, and playing in the courtyard with Yongbok and Changbin sets a feeling of unease in his gut. “I understand.”

His mother nods curtly and continues what she was saying. Jisung exhales through his nose and tightly folds his hands in his lap to stop himself from fidgeting.

Lunch with his mother, Queen Han Eunae of Haviel, is awkward. It isn’t like breakfast where he’s left to his own devices, or dinner where there are usually guests and noblemen. There, Jisung can just eat his food in silence, drowned out by the chatter. But during lunch, it’s just Jisung and his mother sitting in their uncomfortably large dining room, save for the servants that bring in and out their plates. She always insists on telling him about all the current events in their kingdom and her council. It quite frankly bores Jisung half to death.

“... and then the two men began fighting. On the ground, punching each other like barbarians. All over a loaf of bread. One of them was killed.” His mother shakes her head, her mouth forming a displeased line. “This,” She looks back up at Jisung, making intense eye contact with him. “Is more reason as to why we must uphold our family practice. It has never failed us in the past, and it never will. The commoners are far too dangerous. Understood?”

Jisung nods. “Of course.”

As he speaks, the familiar feeling of disappointment lodges itself back into his throat.

♚

As soon as lunch ends, Jisung bolts up the stairs towards his room, barely throwing a wave at his mother over his shoulder as he leaves. When he reaches his room, he softly shuts the door behind him, closing his eyes and exhaling quietly. Lunch is always exhausting, but today was worse for some reason.

He walks over to his closet to put on something less formal for the rest of the day. Of course, he’ll have to put it all back on for dinner, but he can’t stand to be in those fancy clothes for longer than an hour at a time.

As he starts pulling out what he wants to wear, he catches sight of himself in the mirror. His shirt looks silly on him, the belt around his waist a size too big. The sleeves of his jacket almost go past his fingertips, and the maroon and gold accents make his skin look pale and tired. Everything about his composure feels out of place. He looks like an eleven year old boy pretending to be royalty, dressed in a costume.

He groans in frustration and pulls off his belt, going over to his window and plopping down in the chair next to it. Being a prince had never felt right, not when he dreamed of something else.

In Haviel, there are several pages and squires that come to the palace every day to be the knights’ right hand men, as well as train to eventually become a knight on their eighteenth birthday. Jisung gets the same training and lessons that a page would, save for needing to attend to the knights. He’s very agile and skilled with his sword, if not better than most of the pages. He loves training. It gives him the rush of adrenaline and excitement that he craves during his long, somewhat uneventful days. It is his dream to be a knight, but his royal blood prevents him from that opportunity. No prince of Haviel could ever be a knight.

He finds his eyes making their way to gaze at the village neighboring the castle, nearly directly outside his window. He can see the tiny figures in the streets, the many houses scattered almost as far as he can see. All Jisung wants to do is be able to be in the midst of it himself, but that is impossible.

For decades, there has been a rule in the royal family of the Haviel Kingdom. Almost one hundred years ago, nine year old Princess Han Soyoung was abducted by a group of bandits while she was out playing in villages of the kingdom. The bandits demanded a ransom, and the royal family paid it. But when the royal guard arrived at the house where Soyoung was supposed to be reunited with them, she was found dead. 

Since that day, any prince or princess of Haviel has not been allowed to show their face in public, leave palace grounds, or even have their name revealed to the kingdom so that they are kept completely and utterly safe. The people know of their existence, and that is all. Their identity is kept under high secrecy until they turn 25, or in the heir’s case, when they are crowned king or queen. Which means, of course, that Jisung has been holed up in palace grounds for the past eleven years.

It’s not as if he’s been completely lonely, though. He has Yongbok and Changbin, two pages that are around the castle a lot. They are always there to play with Jisung during their off time. He'd met Yongbok, a son of one of Jisung’s mother’s youngest advisers, two years ago. They’d bonded over their birthdays being a mere one day apart, and quickly became the best of friends. Yongbok had recently become especially present in the palace; in an attempt to spend more time with Jisung, he’d weaseled his way into working odd jobs around the castle, much to his father’s dismay. 

There’s also Chan, the son of a nobleman who’d begun as a page at age nine. He’d stumbled upon Jisung when the prince was only six, and had become like the older brother Jisung never had growing up. But a couple months ago he had become a squire, as all pages do when they turn fourteen. For the entirety of their friendship, Chan has been set on becoming one of the greatest knights in Haviel, so since gaining his new title he’d spent most of his time training. While Jisung wishes the best for the older boy, he hopes that one day they can spend as much time together as they used to.

Despite having his friends with him, Jisung wants to explore. He’d always had an adventurous streak, more so than he showed to his mother. All he’d ever wanted to do was escape the confines of the palace grounds and see his kingdom with his own two eyes, no matter how dangerous the commoners were.

He stares down at the town, deep in his own head. What could he possibly do to see Haviel? Would he ever be able to convince his mother?

His eyes are then caught by a little boy in the far distance, running away from his friend in a game of tag. Jisung watches as he squeezes through a rope fence outside someone’s yard. An idea comes to him.

“Jisung!” A young voice suddenly yells outside his door, accompanied with playful knocks, successfully breaking Jisung out of his stupor. “Can I come in?”

Jisung spins around in his seat, pulling his legs up to sit criss-cross. “Yep!”

The door swings open and in tumbles Yongbok, a bright smile plastered on his face and a pile of clean, neatly folded clothes in his arms. “How was lunch?”

Jisung sticks out his tongue at his friend. “How do you think it was? Terrible. I felt like my brain was about to melt out of my ears.”

Yongbok wrinkles his nose in disgust as he heads over to Jisung’s closet. “Ew.”

Jisung giggles. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it actually happened one day. Imagine this: my mother talks so much about her ‘duties to improve and care for our kingdom’ and suddenly this gooey, bloody stuff starts to ooze out of my—”

“Okay! I get the idea!” Yongbok exclaims, waving his free hand around in distress and almost dropping the clothes in the process.

Jisung outright cackles at that, drawing his knees into his chest. He watches as Yongbok methodically hangs Jisung’s tunics up, a peaceful grace in his movements. He bites his lip nervously, carefully considering the words that are about to leave his mouth. 

“Hey, Yongbok?”

Yongbok hums in acknowledgement.

“Can I ask you something?”

Yongbok glances at him, his doe eyes filled with curiosity. “Of course.”

Jisung casts his eyes down, nervously fidgeting with the hems of his sleeves. “Do you think I’d be able to sneak into town?”

Yongbok actually drops the pile of clothes this time, whirling around to face Jisung. “What?”

Jisung jumps to his feet, a buzz running through him. “Think about it! When I’m outside, nobody is really paying attention to me. I’m not checked on for hours. We don’t start dinner until it gets dark, and that’s when people start looking for me. A few months ago, I noticed that in the back right corner of the garden there’s a gap in the fence big enough for me to squeeze through. The garden is one of the only parts of the palace that doesn’t have a second wall behind the fence. If I could just slip out while everyone’s busy and sneak through the woods, then around to the front of the palace…”

“Jisung, I don’t know if that’s a good idea!” Yongbok brings his thumb up to his lips and begins chewing at his fingernail. His hands are small, smaller than a normal eleven year old's would be. Jisung pouts as he observes the nervous habit that Yongbok had recently developed. “What if you got caught? You know how strict the Queen is about that rule specifically.” Jisung watches as a more panicked look floods Yongbok’s eyes, his bottom lip beginning to quiver and his eyes beginning to well up. “Or worse, what if something happened to you? I don’t think I’d be able to handle that. Jisung, I—”

Jisung rushes forward, placing a firm hand on Yongbok’s shoulder, reaching the other one up to gently pull his finger away from his mouth. “I promise, I won't let anything happen to me. I’d be super careful. Nobody would even know who I am! Besides,” He shrugs nonchalantly, trying to calm Yongbok down. “What could my mother do to punish me? Ban me from leaving the palace even more? I'm already at maximum punishment!”

Yongbok contorts his face as he tries to hold back laughter, but fails as he lets out a soft giggle. He reaches the hand Jisung isn’t holding up to wipe his eyes before any tears could fall. “I think you’re too cocky, Your Highness.”

Jisung playfully shoves Yongbok’s shoulder away at that and drops his hand. “Shut up.” He takes a step back, but makes sure to hold eye contact as their giggles die down. “I’d be fine. I promise.”

Yongbok sniffs and nods slowly. “Okay.”

Jisung gives him a small sigh, then turns towards the window. “But… be honest. Do you think I’d be able to do it? To pull it off?”

He hears Yongbok shift his weight between his feet, his shoes shuffling against the floor. “Yeah. You’re quick, I see that when you’re training. I think you could. I just don’t know if it’s worth risking.”

Jisung looks back at his friend, a bold grin beginning to spread across his face. “But isn’t that part of the fun?”

♚

Jisung stares at the gap in the fence of the garden. It had been there for as long as he could remember, but he didn’t really realize the potential it had until a couple months ago. As soon as he did, the sight of it began to constantly feed intrusive thoughts of freedom into his brain. He forced himself to repress them, which is why he hadn’t come up with a real plan for so long.

But this time is different.

He glances over his shoulder. The area is void of people, the flowerbeds seeming to loom over him and push him further towards the outside world.

He swallows. All of his responsibilities for the day are finished, his training having been in the early morning and his lessons shortly after that. He’d then had lunch with his mother before racing to change into the most common looking clothes he could find. 

“Where are you off to, dressed like that?” His mother had yelled out through the open door to her study as Jisung had tried to slip past.

Jisung’s steps faltered and he’d plastered a smile on his face, praying he didn't look too nervous. “Just… to play outside with Changbin. Don’t want to get my nice clothes dirty.”

Changbin had gone home for the day.

One last time, Jisung scans behind him for someone who could be watching; a gardener, his teacher, a servant. But sure enough, nobody is around. The gardeners have finished their jobs for the day, and everyone else is busy doing their own duties in the palace.

He turns back towards the fence. The gateway has been calling to him, taunting him. Finally, he is giving into the taunts.

He slips a leg through the opening, cautiously testing the waters. When no animals bite his foot off, he slowly squeezes his way through, hearing leaves crunch underneath his weight. He turns to stare into the garden one last time. The flowers and pristinely trimmed bushes sway in the wind. He wonders if anyone will notice that he’s gone.

The only response to his thoughts is the sound of the leaves under his feet and the rustling of the bushes’ leaves in the wind.

He ignores the soft pain in his chest as he turns his back on the palace grounds to run into the woods.

♚

Jisung walks through the streets, his eyes turning to saucers as he observes the people around him. He can feel the stone road through the thin soles of his shoes, the sound of lively conversation and loud voices filling his ears. The sun reflects off the ground towards Jisung, making beads of sweat form on his forehead.

He isn’t sure how to feel. When he first reached the village he was on edge, prepared to immediately witness violence and angry bandits wandering the streets. But the longer he spends wandering the streets, the more confused he gets. He hasn’t seen a single fight. The only things he’s caught sight of were smiling faces, warm greetings between neighbors, and people simply living their daily lives.

Jisung is confused. He's underwhelmed, but completely overwhelmed at the same time.

Overwhelmed by the volume of his surroundings, by the bustling, fast-paced atmosphere, by how different everything is here compared to the palace. Of course, he’d expected it to be different, but not this kind of different.

He's absolutely enthralled by his confusion.

Excitement courses through his veins with each neighborhood he passes. He becomes more accustomed with the flow of traffic in the crowds, and practically bounces through the streets as he watches people rushing by with their livestock and their baskets of fruit and bread.

The best part? Nobody pays Jisung a single ounce of attention.

Here, he isn't Prince Jisung. He's simply another boy wandering through the town. He can do whatever he wants without worrying about being “proper.” He could sprint down the streets as fast as he can, or laugh as loudly and hysterically as he wants. He can finally feel like an actual eleven year old boy, the way he’s dreamed of for as long as he can remember.

After strolling the streets for a while, he turns a corner and stops in his tracks. In front of him lies a cluster of tents and what seems to be hundreds of people mingling and examining the tents, picking out things like fruits, vegetables, bread, and meat. Jisung realizes that this must be a market.

He can hardly contain himself, beginning to excitedly walk towards the market, but stops himself. He had told himself he wouldn't stay for long. It’s his first time out in the open, and he doesn’t want to get caught so early on because he wasn’t careful with his time.

He looks up at the sky, checking the sun’s position. It’s past midday, but the sun isn't anywhere near setting. As long as he’s home before dark…

He looks back at the sight of the market before him and beams to himself, bounding towards the crowds.

♚

Jisung lies in his bed that night, thinking about the events from the day. He’d made it back in time for dinner, but not before exploring the marketplace and examining the items being sold, even getting some dirty looks from the sellers. He wishes he’d brought some money, but stores that thought in the back of his mind for future reference.

Although Jisung is amazed by what he saw in the village, it is not at all what everyone in the castle told him it would be. He hadn’t seen a single bit of violence or hostility or had feared for his life. He wonders if he had gone into town on an unusually good day.

But something deep inside him is telling Jisung that something is wrong. There is something off about his experience today, despite the fun he’d had. Was there a factor he missed while there? What was making him feel so uneasy?

Jisung worries over his own thoughts for what feels like hours, his mind desperately trying to work out why his anxiety is festering. Eventually exhaustion triumphs the anxiety, and he falls into a deep sleep.

♚

Jisung sits on a step of a staircase leading up to a statue of his great-grandfather, a half loaf of fresh bread from the marketplace in his right hand. He tears at it with his teeth, chewing mouthfuls of warm bread that were almost too large to swallow.

He’d been going into town almost every day for around a week now, and still has yet to be caught. He’d explored different parts of the village; the outskirts that neighbor other towns, the many small shops, the river that’s west of the castle that had shimmered in the sunlight when Jisung visited the riverbank. Today is a bit cooler than previous ones, clouds covering the sky and casting dull sunlight across the village. Jisung appreciates it. He’d always preferred cold weather to sweltering heat.

He closes his eyes and takes another bite of bread. In a strange way that he hadn’t expected, the taste of the bread from the marketplace is so much better than the bread served in the castle. It's probably just the novelty of it, but it tastes fresh and authentic, and its texture feels ten times better in Jisung’s mouth. The combination of the hard crust and soft middle makes Jisung smile to himself. He silently wishes that he could stay in this moment forever

“Hey.”

Jisung freezes and his eyes snap open. 

In front of him stands a boy, staring down at Jisung with a bored look on his face. He seems older than Jisung, maybe by a year or two. His lips are plump, his top lip a tiny bit larger than the bottom. He has strong eyebrows that frame his face well, and his brown hair is messy, yet clearly taken care of.

But what’s most noticeable about the boy are his eyes. They’re round, upturned, and dark. His gaze pierces right into Jisung. But the darkness in the boy’s eyes isn’t evil or scary, but rather strong and confident. A darkness that draws people in.

“Are you here alone?” The boy asks.

Jisung blinks at him, unable to move as he stares up at the stranger with his cheeks full of half-chewed bread. When the boy tilts his head and raises an eyebrow, waiting for a response, Jisung forces a stiff nod.

The boy shoves his hands in his pockets. “Why?”

Jisung is taken aback by the question. He never would have thought anyone would notice the small eleven year old boy eating bread alone in the middle of the village.

He starts speaking around the bread in his cheeks. “W-well, my muh’er ith workin’, and—”

“Maybe,” the boy interrupts, a smirk forming on his lips, “you should finish chewing your food first.”

Jisung flushes bright red and does exactly that, forcing the bread down his throat far faster than he probably should. “My mother is busy, and I get bored alone.” It’s not a lie.

The boy nods in understanding in a way that seems far too mature for his age. “What’s your name?”

Jisung feels his heart thump in his ears at that and he takes a quiet, shaky breath. “Jisung,” he manages, praying the boy doesn’t ask for his family name.

The corners of the boy’s mouth twitch up. He sticks out his hand, offering it to Jisung. “Lee Minho. Nice to meet you, Jisung.”

Jisung stares at his outstretched hand for a moment before cautiously taking it, exchanging a firm handshake with him.

“Listen,” the boy—Minho—starts as he drops Jisung’s hand. “My friends and I want to play blind man’s bluff, but we don’t have enough people.” Minho gestures over his shoulder, and Jisung glances behind the older boy to see two more boys standing together, whispering excitedly in each other’s ears. They look closer to Jisung’s age, and seem much less… intimidating, for lack of a better word. When they notice Jisung looking at them, they both smile at him, one of them offering an enthusiastic wave. Jisung shyly waves back.

Jisung looks back up at Minho, who raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you in?”

Jisung glances at the sky. He still has a couple hours of daylight left.

His heart jumps in his chest. This is his chance to really become a part of his kingdom, to find a place in the community and form new friendships. How could he possibly pass it up?

He locks eyes with Minho, ignoring the jolt of nervousness the dusky eyes send down his spine. “As long as I’m home before dark.”

Minho grins. “Deal.”

12

Jisung flings himself on top of Hyunjin, tackling his back and almost knocking the other boy over. He squeezes Hyunjin’s waist with his thighs and secures his arms around his neck, making sure he wouldn’t topple over.

“Jisung!” Hyunjin yells, struggling to force the smaller boy off his back. “Get off me, you freak!”

“My feet hurt,” Jisung giggles, tightening his grip as Hyunjin tugs at his arms. “So you’re going to carry me!”

“You’re such a spoiled brat, get off!”

“My god, do you two ever shut up?” Minho shouts over his shoulder, but when Jisung looks at him, there’s no hostility in his expression.

Jisung smiles. “You love us, Minho. Don’t try to hide it.”

Minho glances back at them. “No, I really don’t.” He sings. “The only person I love here is my dear Seungmin! He’s mature. You’d never do anything to annoy me, would you?” He wraps an arm around Seungmin’s shoulders, who’s walking beside him, and tugs the younger boy into his armpit and ruffles his hair. Seungmin cries out in protest. 

Jisung laughs at the pained expression on Seungmin’s face, his hold around Hyunjin’s neck loosening. The taller boy takes advantage of his moment of weakness and shoves him off of his back. Jisung stumbles to the ground, almost tripping over his own feet.

He lightly smacks the back of Hyunjin’s head before jogging to catch up with Seungmin, who has been released from Minho’s hold.

“You’d never annoy him, huh?” Jisung whispers in a mocking tone. “That doesn’t sound right to me.”

Seungmin grins at him. “I should clear up that confusion, shouldn’t I?”

“I can hear you!” Minho barks from in front of them, not bothering to turn around. Jisung makes faces at the back of his head, emitting cackles from Seungmin.

The streets are especially busy today. The weather is finally starting to get warmer after an especially cold winter, and people are taking advantage of it by getting outside, doing all their shopping, hanging their laundry out, or just spending time together in the warmth. The four boys squeeze their way through the crowds, trying to get to the riverbank as quickly as they can.

As they pass through the marketplace, a figure in the corner of Jisung’s eye catches his attention. He looks over and sees a man, hunched over and staggering his way through the crowds, barely standing on his own feet. His face is smudged with grime, and his clothes are torn and tattered. In his left hand he holds a small cup. With each person he passes, he holds the cup out to them, his eyes pleading and full of sadness.

Jisung elbows Seungmin’s side, and discreetly points at the man. “What’s that guy doing?”

Seungmin glances over to where Jisung is pointing, then shoots Jisung a questioning look. “He’s asking for handouts, Jisung. Haven’t you seen a beggar before?”

Jisung looks back at the man, who is now shakily holding his cup out to a stranger, weakly saying something that Jisung can’t decipher. A beggar? “Y-yeah, of course I have.” He mumbles.

Seungmin lightly hits his shoulder. “Don’t stare,” He mutters, but there’s no malice in his tone. “It’s rude.”

Jisung takes one last glance at the man’s state, his demeanor, and the sorrow that sits heavily on his features, before reluctantly tearing his eyes away.

As they continue towards the river, Jisung can’t get the image of the man out of his head. Why was Seungmin so nonchalant about the sight of the man, like it’s a normal occurrence? How could anyone ever get to the point that man was in?

Why had nobody at the castle ever told Jisung about beggars?

13

Jisung leans his head back to stare at the sky, allowing it to gently fall back on the staircase behind him. The wooden step he sits on is hard and uncomfortable, but he doesn’t really care. Seungmin has just gone inside to help his mom with chores, leaving Jisung, Hyunjin, and Minho to sit on the stairs leading up to his front door.

“Do you guys ever wonder what it would be like to live a completely different life?” Jisung asks, his eyes trained on a cloud that’s shaped like a bunny.

“What, like a farmer?” Minho’s replies in a somewhat sarcastic tone. As usual.

Jisung sits up straight. “I guess. Maybe a knight, or something.” He smiles wistfully to himself. “I’ve always wanted to be a knight.”

Minho snorts. “Of course you have.”

“No, I’ve thought about that too!” Hyunjin butts in. “What if I was born into a different life? Would I have the same personality? How different could someone else’s life be to mine?” 

Jisung points at him in agreement. “Exactly! I had the exact same parents, exact same face, exact same everything, but I was raised in a completely different way. What kind of person would I be?”

Hyunjin nods. “Right. What if my family were nobles, instead?” Hyunjin shoots up where he’s sitting at that thought, an idea seeming to come to him. “Can you imagine being the prince? That must be weird.”

Jisung’s heart almost stops.

“I can’t even grasp the concept; being on top of the world, and you’re not even allowed to leave your own home.” Hyunjin rests his cheek in his palm. “I wonder what he’s like.”

Jisung hums feebly, unable to bring himself to look at his friends.

After a moment of silence, Minho scoffs. “Well, I personally couldn’t give less of a shit about the royal family. What makes them so interesting, anyway?”

Hyunjin stares at Minho, his eyes wide. “The fact that they’re the royal family?”

Minho shrugs. “Okay? They were born into a bloodline with lots of money and an unreasonable amount of control over the kingdom. Big deal.”

Jisung is starting to find it hard to think straight. He erratically stands up, brushing his pants off. “I’m bored. Can we go to the river?”

Hyunjin sighs and stands up with him. “Don’t think I can today. I have to be home early.”

Grateful for the change in topic, Jisung allows himself to exhale quietly and turns to Hyunjin with an exaggerated pout on his face. “Can’t you stay a little longer?”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “My family wants me to help him build furniture.” He frowns. “A dining table. I don’t know why they need me.”

“It probably has to do with your freakishly long arms.” Jisung smirks and grabs Hyunjin’s forearm, waving it around with a taunting grin plastered on his face. 

Hyunjin snatches his arm back and rolls his eyes. “You’re just jealous. Talk to me once you hit your growth spurt.” With that, he turns on his heel and strolls off.

Jisung cocks his head at Hyunjin’s retreating figure. “He’s so dramatic.”

“You haven’t seen the worst of it.” Minho stands up next to Jisung and sighs. “You’ve only known him for two years. Try five.”

Jisung giggles and turns to Minho. Despite Hyunjin’s comment about Jisung’s growth spurt, Jisung has gotten taller in the past couple months. Minho being two years older than Jisung had always given him an advantage in terms of height, but as Jisung stands next to him now, he notices that he’s slowly catching up to the older boy.

“Do you need to leave too?” Minho asks.

Jisung shakes his head. “I still have an hour or so until sunset.”

Minho nods. Jisung thinks he catches a flash of satisfaction in his eyes.

“Why is your family so strict about that rule?” Minho asks as they start making their way down the street.

Jisung purses his lips, trying to come up with something as close to the truth as possible. “They’re just worried about me. They want to be safe, and they don't think I should be out at night. Especially not when I'm walking back from… another town.”

Not a lie. Jisung thinks he’s getting pretty good at this.

Minho makes a face. “You’re not eleven anymore. I think you’re capable of taking care of yourself.”

“Yeah, so do I,” Jisung grumbles.

They walk in comfortable silence for a while. Minho is the only one he’s really able to do this with. He can do it with Yongbok, but it doesn’t feel quite the same. Minho has a calming aura about him, despite his refusal to show any kind of emotional vulnerability. Since the moment he met the three boys, Jisung had always felt the strongest connection with Minho, even with the other two being the same age as him. Minho makes him feel safe and as if he belongs when Jisung doesn’t belong. Not even in the slightest. 

He’d never admit this, but Jisung always hopes for a moment alone with Minho at the end of the day, hopes for the opportunity to have one of their quiet, subdued conversations.

Jisung feels a breeze on his face and through his thin shirt, and he shivers. The sky is a soft blue today, littered with fluffy clouds. Jisung remembers lying in the courtyard with his father when he was young, pointing out the shapes of different clouds and laughing until his stomach hurt when his father made some stupid joke. 

He wonders how different things would be if his father were still around.

“Are you cold?” Minho’s voice pulls him out of his daydream.

Jisung rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, a little. I’m fine, though.”

Minho scoffs. “You idiot. You know it’s getting colder, you should have the brains to wear something warmer at this point.” As he speaks, he begins unwrapping the dark red scarf that’s wrapped around his neck.

Jisung stares at him. “What are you doing?”

Minho doesn’t reply. He finishes taking off his scarf, then grabs Jisung’s shoulder to stop him in his tracks. Wordlessly, he holds out his scarf to Jisung.

Jisung looks down at the scarf and back up at Minho. “Is this for me?”

“Shut up and take it.”

Jisung smiles and carefully takes the scarf, wrapping it around his own neck. Even if he doesn’t use his words, Minho has his ways of showing that he cares. “You’re too kind, you know that?”

“I will choke you with that scarf.”

Jisung grins. “Not if you don’t catch me first.” With a sense of newfound confidence, he reaches out and pokes Minho on the tip of his nose. “You darling!”

“You little shit, I’ll—”

Jisung doesn’t hear the rest of the sentence; he’s too busy running for his life, his loud peals of laughter echoing off walls of the buildings that they sprint past.

14

The castle has always been a bit… much.

The high ceilings, the intricate designs on every single wall, the giant archways that connect each of the rooms. The staircase and floors are always polished to perfection, reflecting back every single detail that you may not want to see. The carpets are too soft. The color scheme of beige and red is tiring to stare at. The rooms are too empty; there is always so much space to fill that is completely abandoned, leaving a shell of a room that has no purpose to serve other than adding to the grand size of the castle.

That’s all the castle seems to be for, to show off the wealth and power that the royals hold. All the expensive furniture and rare materials aren’t there to create a comfortable, homey environment. Jisung knows that was never the intention.

The sound of footsteps echoes through the empty hallways as Jisung leaves his room, a half eaten apple he’d stolen from the kitchen in his hand. He bites into the apple and hears the crunch reverberate around him, cringing at the volume of it. Why can’t he have one normal experience, like being able to eat an apple in peace?

As he begins descending the marble stairs, he hears unusually loud voices behind the door at the bottom of the staircase. Where the conference room is.

He frowns and slows down, trying to make his steps lighter. When his mother meets with the council, their conversations are usually calm and subdued; Jisung rarely even hears them when he walks past. But this time, he hears panicked tones and rushed sentences. Obviously, his interest is piqued.

He creeps down the stairs and leans his back against the wall next to the door, angling himself towards the sound of the voices.

“How many of these incidents have there been?” Jisung hears his mother’s voice. She sounds stressed.

“Four, your majesty.”

“And they are all presumed to be performed by the same person?”

“Identical threatening notes have been left behind at each of the houses, yes.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Jisung hears his mother sigh. “What has been taken?”

“Well…” The voice pauses, Jisung assumes in discomfort. “Valuable statues, porcelain, light fixtures, and…”

The room goes quiet. 

“And?” Jisung’s mother presses.

“... and great amounts of money and gold from the noblemen’s possessions, your majesty. As well as more items that are specific to the noblemen that were robbed.”

Jisung blinks. Noblemen that were robbed? Four “incidents?”

“Well,” Jisung’s mother sounds like she is trying to keep her voice steady. “What are we going to do about this?”

“Queen Eunae, if I may,” A new voice began, “I suggest that we increase our security throughout Haviel. More of our guards should be stationed in the village nearest to us, as well as outside the houses of the noblemen who request it. We cannot allow the people to begin to think that they can just steal whenever they feel like it.”

“Where specifically will these guards be stationed?”

The voice clears his throat. “Near the marketplace, patrolling between the village and the palace, as well as some more than what we currently have outside the castle. We must avoid the palace even being a consideration for the potential next target.”

“Very well. That seems like the best option.” Eunae’s voice sounds determined and strong, but Jisung doesn’t miss the tremble of stress in her tone that only he’d be able to catch. “We must do whatever we can to keep our kingdom safe.”

Jisung hears them beginning to wrap up the meeting, and he spins around and runs up the stairs as quietly as he can.

What the hell did he just overhear?

♚

He doesn’t hear the full story until a couple days later, as he’s trying to have some down time with his friends.

“It sounds like a beautiful, blossoming relationship to me!” Yongbok’s voice is full of giddy amusement.

Changbin groans and flops back into the grass, covering his face with his hands. “It’s not! She just follows me around like a lost puppy. I don’t even know her, our fathers are just acquaintances. That’s all.”

Jisung clicks his tongue and shakes his head in mock disappointment. “That girl is head over heels in love with you, and you talk about her like this? Saddening, Changbin, saddening. You should take advantage of this love while you can, you may never get another opportunity—”

Changbin kicks Jisung’s outstretched leg, and the prince yelps in pain between his peals of laughter at Changbin’s irritability.

Jisung thinks the courtyard looks especially beautiful today. The trees have recently bloomed, their leaves a fresh, bright green that are most spectacular in the early months of summer. The servants stroll along the pathway, chatting to each other and enjoying the pleasant weather, sun rays beaming down on the expansive land.

“Why was she over at your house, anyway?” Yongbok asks, twirling a blade of grass between his fingers.

Changbin stretches his arms towards the sky, intertwining his fingers and cracking his knuckles. “Well, she’s Choi Kwangsun’s daughter.” Jisung recognizes the name as another notable nobleman within Haviel. He and Changbin’s father are good friends, or as good of ‘friends’ as two nobles can be. “My father had invited him over to discuss what to do to prepare for… well, you know. The thief. She was there as well, for whatever reason.” He rolls his eyes.

Yongbok hums and nods his head in understanding. “Right, my father told me about that. They discussed it in the council the other day, right Jisung?”

Jisung blinks. “I… I don’t know. My mother hasn’t mentioned anything yet.”

Yongbok stares at him. “You seriously haven’t heard anything about it?”

Jisung looks down at his shoes in embarrassment. “Well, I might have overheard parts of the meeting. They were talking about the nobility being robbed, I think.”

Changbin nods. “There’s this thief going around and robbing noblemen in the kingdom. He’s stealing a lot of things. More than has ever been heard of. People are starting to call him ‘The Noble Thief.’”

Yongbok snorts. “That’s a stupid name.”

“Well, I didn’t come up with it, did I?” Changbin snaps.

Jisung frowns. “So… the same thief is robbing multiple noblemen, taking valuable things?”

“Significant noblemen,” Yongbok confirms. “Noblemen that have a lot of assets, who are basically untouchable. That’s why it’s such a big deal.”

“Obviously, my father wanted to talk with other noblemen about how to protect themselves,” Changbin continues. “If these big names are getting robbed, it’s not unlikely that we’re next in line.”

Yongbok solemnly nods. “Right. What if the thief decides to target advisers, too?” He shudders. “It’s scary.”

Jisung frowns at his shoes. If anything, this thief is going to aim bigger next time.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He plasters an optimistic smile on his face despite his inner turmoil, attempting to reassure his friends. “The council will work out a solution, maybe provide security for the noblemen. I doubt there will be any more successful robberies. Don’t worry.”

Changbin sits up with a determined look. “If that thief ever comes near my family, I swear I’ll take him down in a heartbeat.” He clenches his hand into a fist. “None of the other noblemen have had someone like me to protect them.”

Jisung laughs. “Right, as if you wouldn’t be thrown to the ground within two seconds. You’ve only just become a squire, be a little humble.”

“You’d probably sleep through the entire thing, anyway!” Yongbok adds.

Changbin grumbles under his breath as the other two boys continue teasing him, throwing light punches in an attempt to shut them up.

All the while, Jisung can’t quite shake the image of this thief from his head. More specifically, the idea of the thief targeting the palace.

♚

The dining room is quiet, save for the sound of cutlery against the expensive plates and the shifting of clothing as the two people in the room eat. Jisung sits across from his mother, glancing up at her every now and again to check if she seems like she might be about to say something. It’s unusual for her to go an entire lunch without discussing the newest politics.

Jisung clears his throat. “Anything new recently?”

Eunae shakes her head. “No, nothing significant.” She looks up at him. “You’re interested?”

He shrugs. “You seem quiet.”

She furrows her eyebrows and stabs a piece of chicken with her fork. “Well, there’s nothing to tell.”

She delicately takes a bite and chews ever-so-politely. Jisung’s head starts to ache.

“What about the Noble Thief?” The words fly out of his mouth before he can stop himself. He quickly stuffs his mouth with food to shut himself up, his cheeks flaring a bright red.

Her eyes dart up to meet his gaze. “How did you hear about that?”

He chews his food for far too long before he responds. “Yongbok and Changbin.”

His mother huffs and sets down her utensils. “Of course. I should have known…” She folds her hands in front of her. “Jisung, you must not be afraid—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jisung demands. It’s the first time he’s interrupted or spoken to her with any kind of defiance in his tone. He gulps, trying to mask his nerves.

She studies his face, taking in every emotion he exhibits. “I didn’t want to scare you,” She responds. “I didn’t think it was critical enough to the point where I needed to put those thoughts in your head.”

Jisung sets down his own fork, the nerves dissolving into annoyance at his mother’s words. “Four noblemen were robbed, mother. Four! That doesn’t seem critical enough for you?” He throws his hands in the air, allowing them to fall back onto the table with a firm thump. “I’m not a child anymore. I should be told about these things before any other stupid policy. Things that may actually be a threat.”

Her eyes harden at that. She picks back up her knife and fork, going back to her food. “None of these policies are ‘stupid’. They are all extremely important, and ones you will be informed of. You should know this, seeing as you will be joining council meetings when you turn fifteen.”

Jisung freezes.

“I’m very sorry that I didn’t tell you, but it was to protect you. Everything I do is to protect you, Jisung. Understand?”

Jisung stares at his plate. He suddenly isn’t very hungry anymore. “I understand.”

“Good.” She gives him a smile that Jisung knows is meant to look reassuring. It feels performative to him. “We’ll be alright, son. Don’t worry.”

Jisung presses his lips together. “I know,” He grumbles. “I’m not worried.”

♚

Thwap.

“Dammit!” Minho cries. His arrow sticks out of the sixth ring from the middle on his target. He shoulders his longbow and stalks over to the target, pulling his arrow from the wood.

“Six points is still good!” Seungmin calls. “Don’t be so hard on yourself!”

“Not good enough!” Minho snaps, positioning himself back in his shooting stance.

Seungmin raises his hands in defense, looking at Jisung and Hyunjin with a grimace. “Mr. Perfect, apparently.”

Hyunjin chuckles. “Nothing new. Everything has to be perfect with him.”

Minho had been the one that introduced archery to Jisung. He still remembers the first time he’d seen Minho with a bow and arrow when he was eleven and Minho was thirteen. He’d stood and watched the interesting contraption in Minho’s hands fire arrow after arrow at the circular, painted old piece of wood. The goal is to earn as many points as possible. Apparently, the closer the arrow lands to the center, the more points you earn. He recalls how Hyunjin and Seungmin had laughed at Jisung’s wonder, and explained how they’d been exactly the same way when they first witnessed Minho with a bow and arrow.

How Minho had learned this game had always been a mystery to Jisung. When Minho traverses the streets with his longbow, people stare at him and the strange thing slung over his shoulder. Nobody else in Haviel had ever had any games or competitions similar to archery, and Jisung had never heard of or seen such a thing within the palace, either. Whenever he asks Minho how he learned it, the older boy simply tells him that his father taught him. He never elaborates any further.

Thwap. Six points again.

“I mean,” Jisung lowers his voice so that only Seungmin and Hyunjin can hear him. “I guess everyone is a perfectionist with the things they’re good at, right? I can’t really blame him.”

“Yeah, but he has overly high expectations for himself.” Seungmin chews on his bottom lip. “It worries me. He gets so obsessed over the smallest mistakes.”

“Once,” Hyunjin whispers to Jisung, “When he was twelve and we were ten, he decided that he wasn’t nearly good enough at his age to be a 'world recognized archer' when he grew up. For two days straight, he stayed in front of his target practicing. We had to bring him meals and force him to eat and drink.” Hyunjin rests his chin in his palm, watching the archer. “Obsessed might not be a strong enough word for Minho.”

Thwap. Five points.

“God, what is up with me?” Minho fumes.

Jisung watches the older boy stomp over to the target to retrieve his arrows, and he has an idea.

As Minho makes his way back to his shooting spot, Jisung sits up straighter. “You know,” He begins, raising his voice the slightest bit, “I bet I’d have a chance against Minho in an archery competition.”

Seungmin gawks at Jisung, completely dumbfounded. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Jisung glances over at Minho. He’s standing frozen in his spot, staring at the ground. 

The younger boy shrugs. “How hard can it be?”

Hyunjin slaps the side of Jisung’s head. “Alright, I think you’ve lost your mind. The one time Minho tried to teach you last year you were terrible. Do you need a doctor? Do we need to take you home?”

Jisung fixes the hair that had been messed up from Hyunjin’s hit, taking on his best princely, smug look. He shrugs. “I mean, Minho isn’t extraordinarily good. Besides,” He then blatantly stares at Minho and smirks. “I’m pretty good at everything I do, aren’t I?”

“I would demolish your ass in competition, Jisung. Don’t start with your cocky bullshit.”

Bingo.

Jisung watches as Minho’s face contorts with annoyance, his hand flexing around the limb of his bow. Jisung grins. “I don’t know what you mean, Minho.”

Minho turns to him, his dark eyes fiery, like glowing embers. “Acting like you’re all high and mighty, just because you’re weirdly athletic and able to outrun Hyunjin in a race. You’re nowhere near being good at everything, especially not this. Not against me.”

Jisung cocks his head at Minho tauntingly. “Oh yeah?” He raises his eyebrows. “I don’t know if I have reason to believe that right now. Maybe you should prove it.”

Minho clenches his jaw. “Watch me.”

Jisung indeed watches as Minho positions his arrow in the nocking point and pulls the bowstring back, squeezing his left eye shut. He grips the arrow in his fingers tightly, holding the position of the bow perfectly still. He looks so poised, so put together, like he was made to shoot a longbow.

This is his calling. Jisung knows it is. 

Minho takes a deep breath, relaxes his fingers, and releases the arrow.

Thwap. Nine points.

Hyunjin and Seungmin whoop in celebration at Minho’s unusually high score, and Jisung’s heart swells in pride.

Minho spins around triumphantly. "Beat that, you—" A snarky comment is clearly on his tongue before he sees the way Jisung is smiling at him. The competitive look in his eyes immediately dies down and his mouth falls open, realizing what the younger boy had been doing.

Jisung wiggles his eyebrows. Knew you could do it.

Minho blinks once, twice, and Jisung swears he almost sees a hint of fondness in his eyes before a stubborn glare replaces it. He can practically hear Minho responding in his head: Shut up.

Minho walks over to where the other boys are sitting and flops down, setting his bow next to him. Jisung watches as he stretches his limbs in an almost cat-like way, extending and curling his fingers methodically. “And that, my friends, is why you should never question my abilities.”

Jisung allows the corners of his mouth to quirk up, lifting his hands up in mock defense. “Point proven.”

“You know,” Seungmin begins, “Archery wouldn’t be a bad form of self defense. I feel like your skill could come in handy in certain situations. It doesn’t only have to be used in competition.”

“If those competitions even exist.” Hyunjin mutters.

Minho slaps his shoulder, and Hyunjin cries out in protest. “What? I’ve literally never seen these so-called contests you talk about. Nobody does archery except you, Minho.”

Minho frowns. “Well, they exist. Trust me.” He then nods in Seungmin’s direction. “I’ve thought of that. I learned it for sport, but these things are pretty sharp.” He twirls an arrow between his fingers. “Especially after what happened with…” He trails off, as if realizing that he’s saying more than he meant to. A frown darkens his features.

Jisung opens his mouth to ask him to continue, but Hyunjin butts in before he gets the chance to say anything.

“Well, you’d better be ready with the rumors going around the town right now.”

Jisung huffs. “Which rumors? There are quite a few, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“The ones about the Noble Thief.” Hyunjin whispers, his eyes flashing. “Have you heard about that?”

Jisung scowls at his fingernails. “Yeah, I have.” Apparently, he can’t escape this topic.

Hyunjin shakes his head in disbelief. “Four noblemen robbed by the same person, and they haven’t gotten caught yet? Whoever this is has some real talent.”

“I wonder how it was done,” Seungmin leans back on the heels of his palms, stretching out his legs and almost kicking Jisung’s knees in the process. “How’d this guy get into such well protected homes? The plan must be elaborate.”

In his peripheral vision Jisung sees Minho flop into the grass, his back hitting the ground with a thump.

Hyunjin bites his fingernail. “Do you think he’ll rob our village, as well?” 

“Definitely not,” Minho chimes in from where he’s sprawled in the grass.

Seungmin nods. “Yeah, I don’t think so either. Why would he rob a bunch of noblemen and then go for us? What could we possibly have to offer that compares in any way?”

Hyunjin hums in agreement. Jisung fidgets with the hem of his tunic.

“Those noblemen must be devastated right now,” Seungmin mutters. “Probably stressed out of their minds.”

“It isn’t as if the council isn’t going to do something to improve their security though.” Hyunjin laughs and runs a hand down his face. “The higher class is always their top priority.”

“Well, yeah. But do you think there’ll be any more? I just feel like this whole ordeal is so—”

“Why do we care so much that some old rich fucks are getting robbed?” Minho sits up abruptly, scowling at the younger boys. “They lost a small portion of their enormous wealth. Boo-hoo. They’ll be fine.”

Minho grabs his bow from the ground and marches back to his shooting station, beginning to perch his first arrow. Jisung watches the way he aggressively jams the arrow into place, his hands and arm muscles tense. 

They’re all silent for a moment as Minho pulls back the bowstring. Jisung feels like he can cut the tension in the air with a knife.

“I guess that’s true,” Seungmin finally says, speaking tentatively.

“Damn right,” Minho grumbles. Jisung barely hears him.

Thwap. Eight points.

♚

As the sun begins to set, Jisung watches as varying shades of vibrant oranges and pinks dissolve in the sky. The scene reflects on the water, and he squints through the sunlight as he hangs back, waiting for Minho to finish packing up his equipment as the other two boys start to make their way towards town. When the older boy finishes, they walk along the dirt path they’d worn down after years of visiting the riverbank, trailing behind Hyunjin and Seungmin.

They walk in silence for a while, like they usually do. Jisung listens to the sound of the other boys’ laughter and the dirt crunching under his feet. He looks up at the darkening sky and wonders whether he’ll make it back to the palace in time.

Jisung glances at Minho. Before he knows it, he finds himself subconsciously staring. He’s always known that Minho is a good looking guy. It’s undeniable. He admires Minho’s strong nose and his sharply angled jaw. His messy hair ruffles in the wind, which somehow makes him look even more elegant. His gaze is soft and unguarded, an unusual sight that Jisung rarely gets to witness. The younger boy represses a smile.

But then Jisung thinks of their conversation earlier, and feels a weight settle in his chest. He frowns to himself and gulps, mustering up the courage to speak.

“Hey, Minho?”

“Hm?”

“Why do you…” He pauses, trying to find the right words to use. “Why do you hate the royal family so much? And nobility, and those kinds of things?”

In his peripheral vision, Jisung sees Minho’s face harden.

Jisung’s stomach drops. “I mean, it’s no big deal! I’m just curious, because most people in the kingdom seem to really… admire them. Or just don’t mention them. But whenever we talk about them, it seems to set you off a little.” Jisung winces at his own words. “I’m not really phrasing this right.”

“Jisung,” Minho sighs. “It’s fine. You don’t need to stress.”

“I’m not stressing,” Jisung huffs.

Minho chuckles. “You kind of are.”

“Can you just answer the question?”

Minho rolls his eyes, but complies. “I don’t hate them. It’s just the fact that they have so much power, so much privilege. They can have anything they’d ever want at the snap of their fingers. Meanwhile, we’re struggling just to survive.”

A strange, awful feeling settles in Jisung’s gut.

“Along with that,” Minho continues, “Our royalty, nobility, and government don't do a damn thing to help us. So many people in Haviel are starving, unable to pay taxes and thrown out of their own homes to live on the streets. The food is becoming more expensive, and jobs are dwindling. And what do our royalty and noblemen do? They sit back to watch us beg and plead for some kind of help as they bask in their own wealth.” Minho lets out a sarcastic laugh. “You know what? Maybe I do hate them. I hope that this ‘Noble Thief’ destroys their precious little lives.”

He spits out the words, his tone laced with icy disgust. 

Jisung stops himself from shuddering as he swallows down the bile in his throat. He shouldn’t have started this conversation. He could have gone on with his life without the knowledge that one of his favorite people in the world hates his guts without even realizing that he does.

“But you know what?” Minho claps his hands together. His sudden change in demeanor is jarring, the previous coldness in his tone nowhere to be found as he turns to walk backwards in front of Jisung. “Who cares about them? We can still have great lives without their help.” He grins, an ambitious gleam in his eyes. “We’ll make our way to the top, the two of us. Just you wait.”

Jisung forces a smile and hopes it doesn’t look too strained, trying not to show how distraught he truly felt. “Yeah. Of course we will.”

The two of us.

♚

The guilt about lying to his best friends gnaws at Jisung’s heart. Every time he eats a meal, walks through the palace, attends his lessons, or simply lies in his bed, he remembers Minho’s words.

They can have anything they’d ever want at the snap of their fingers. Meanwhile, we’re struggling just to survive.

Jisung wants to tell Minho who he is more than anything else. He wants to explain what his life is really like, relay to him all of his restrictions as a prince. He wants to help him in any way he can. But he can’t do that, it’s too much of a risk. What if someone overheard him, and told the entire kingdom that he's the prince? Or worse; what if Minho turned on him and told everyone his true identity?

Or what if Minho ended up hating him forever?

It’s all too much for Jisung. He’s fourteen years old, for god’s sake, why can’t he just do normal fourteen year old things? Why did he have to be born into this hellhole?

No, he reminds himself one morning as he sits on the edge of his bed. I should be grateful for what I have. Not everyone has this kind of opportunity.

But what kind of opportunity is being held prisoner in your own home, unable to do anything about the horrible things happening in your own kingdom?

Jisung stares out his window at the village. He thinks about the people he’s met there, the experiences he’s had, and how they don’t correlate in any way with what his mother always told him. According to Queen Eunae, and all the people around him in the palace, commoners are violent and selfish, and would hurt you for no good reason. Jisung has always been told that when the time comes for him to reveal himself to the public, he should keep to himself and never trust anyone outside the castle. But when Jisung actually met the townsfolk firsthand, he saw no malice or greed; all he saw were people doing their best to support each other and make it through their days.

Jisung glances at his bed, where the red scarf that Minho had given him last fall peeks out from underneath his pillow. He knows the age old protection rule is not going away any time soon, but it seems so unreasonable. Why do these innocent people have to be painted as monsters? Why does he need to be locked away from them?

His thoughts return to his conversation with Minho. Are the townsfolk really being treated so horribly? Is there something his mother isn’t telling him?

Before he can dwell on it for any longer, a loud shriek echoes through the halls.

Jisung is immediately broken from his thoughts and he jumps up, sprinting towards the sound of the scream. As he runs out of his room and down the staircase, he sees servants in front of and around him emerging from their rooms and guards racing in the same direction he is. Some of them try to tell him to go back to his room, but he brushes them off.

Jisung rounds the corner into the chamber just before the guards do, the absence of their heavy uniform giving him an advantage. He skids to a halt, and his jaw immediately drops.

The room is completely trashed. Furniture is strewn across the floor, broken glass and porcelain is on the floor near the shelves, as if they’d purposefully been knocked over to make a scene. Table ornaments are missing; candles, vases clocks, and small statues. An expensive red rug that used to lie in the middle of the floor is gone, leaving the hardwood floor bare. A hand on one of the larger statues is crudely broken off and missing. The curtains on the windows are torn off and tangled on the floor.

One of the maids stands in the center of the mess, her hands shaking and her face sickly pale. Jisung concludes that she must have been the one that screamed.

He slowly walks further into the room, careful not to step on any shards of glass. He’s horrified by the idea that something like this could even happen, can’t fathom that someone had managed to do this.

As Jisung surveys the damage, something on top of the fireplace catches his eye. He steps closer, realizing it’s a small piece of paper with something scrawled on it.

He blinks and picks it up. Drawn on it is a series of shapes sketched in what seems to be a tactical pattern that Jisung isn’t familiar with. He frowns, frustrated that he can’t work it out.

The sound of loud shoes echo off the walls as purposeful footsteps grow closer. Jisung turns around just as Eunae walks through the entryway, followed by two worried looking advisers.

She examines the room. Jisung can see her struggling to keep her face straight.

She turns to Jisung as if to comfort him, but her eyes widen when she spots the scrap of paper in his hand. 

“Jisung,” Her voice quivers slightly. “Would you please hand me that?”

Jisung feels his anxiety begin to bubble up as he walks towards her and holds it out, his fingers shaking. She takes it from him, and studies what’s written on it.

Her lips part, and she rapidly blinks. She turns towards her advisors, holding up the piece of paper to them. They pale at the sight.

Jisung finds himself frozen in the spot he’s standing in. Oh, please, please…

Eunae clears her throat and turns back towards the room. She speaks, and Jisung’s heart sinks as she says exactly what he’d feared.

“Inform the council as soon as possible. This is the work of the Noble Thief.”

15

Jisung stands in front of the council room, staring at the closed doors. 

His nice jacket sits heavily on his shoulders, and while it finally fits him, it still feels awkward to wear. Especially in his current situation.

The day before had been his fifteenth birthday. It had been filled with smiling faces, singing, fancy decorations, and delicious food. He’d received letters from sovereigns of other kingdoms wishing him a happy birthday. Jisung was followed with every step he took, servants and guards in the palace trying to make every single aspect of his day perfect.

But it wasn’t perfect. He appreciated the effort to make everything so lovely, but it felt fabricated. Forced. He’d barely gotten any time with his friends. Yongbok had stopped by in the morning to drop off his present and talk with him for approximately five minutes before he ran off to continue his tasks for the day. Jisung had briefly spotted Changbin and Chan when he’d walked past the training grounds, and the two boys had both separately waved enthusiastically at the sight of him and yelled birthday wishes at the top of their lungs. His heart had swelled, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

Even if everything had gone his way, Jisung wasn’t able to spend the day with the one person he truly wanted to. He would never be able to.

Jisung squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, ridding that thought from his head.

He feels like everything is changing too quickly, his childhood slipping from his hands faster than he can process. In a few weeks, Chan turns eighteen and will be knighted. Of course, no one could actually guarantee that if you asked, but Jisung knows it will happen. Chan is one of the best squires, if not the best. His skills far surpass his peers. His family, the Bang family, is on great terms with Eunae. Chan is a favorite among all the knights, and it would be a crime to let him go.

Jisung hates to admit it, but he’s jealous of Chan. His dream had always been to be a knight. His daily training, which he would never give up to save his life, does nothing to help ease that urge. Every time he gets a sword in his hands, he knows that being a knight is all he’s ever wanted to do, and that he’d be damn good at it. But of course, that is just another dream. 

For now, Jisung stands in front of the council room.

He thinks of the years his mother had told him about this day, the significance of the council and how important it was for him to be prepared. Now that he’s here, he feels completely underprepared. He should have paid better attention to his mother’s rants about the kingdom. He's going to be a floundering mess in that room.

He hears footsteps approaching and keeps his eyes trained on the doors, refusing to turn around. Gentle hands find his shoulders, and he resists the urge to flinch.

“Big day, hm?” His mother’s voice is soft, and he thinks he should probably find it soothing. “Are you excited?”

Jisung shrugs. “I guess you could say that.” His gaze doesn’t budge.

He faintly hears her laugh, and her hands leave his shoulders as she steps in front of him. “You should be, Jisung. This will be a big step towards becoming a great king one day.”

Jisung swallows thickly, ignoring his racing heart. He nods stiffly.

His mother smiles at him and takes hold of the door handle. “Are you ready?”

Jisung exhales through his nose. Once this door opens, his childhood is practically over. He is becoming a part of something that he still doesn’t fully comprehend, and he’s afraid of what it entails.

He can’t help but think of what Minho had said about his lineage months ago: You know what? Maybe I do hate them.

He blankly looks at Eunae. “Ready as I’ll ever be."

The doors open and a room full of scholarly looking men stare at him as he steps through the entryway. One of them, who is standing near the end of the table, steps out and bows at Jisung’s presence. He looks old, the wrinkles in his face prominent and his hair a shade of light gray.

“Prince Jisung, I am glad to formally welcome you as a new attendee of our meetings. My name is Do Kyu, head advisor.”

Jisung returns the bow politely. “Pleased to meet you.”

The head advisor nods professionally. “With your addition to this council, we truly think Haviel will become a greater place as you learn of the ins and outs of running a kingdom. You are a very promising heir.”

Jisung knows his words are a script, that the head advisor doesn’t mean a single word that he’s saying. He knows this man probably thinks Jisung is reckless, a feeble and careless fifteen year old boy who is unable to understand the gravity of his position. He wonders if Kyu or someone of the same status had said these exact words to Eunae when she was fifteen.

He bites his tongue. “Thank you,” he mutters.

Kyu points towards an empty seat towards the end of the table. “You’ll be sitting there, next to the Queen.”

Jisung begins to make his way over to his seat, following behind his mother. The room is far too quiet as he walks, and his footsteps echo against the walls. 

These shoes are too fancy. Why does everyone need to hear each step I take? He swallows, trying to ease his pounding heart.

He finds his way to his seat. Once he and his mother reach their spots at the table, everyone in the room collectively takes a seat. Jisung feels as if everyone in the room is staring at him, so he deliberately keeps his eyes trained on the dark wood of the table in front of him, willing himself not to pick at his fingernails.

His mother’s hand subtly brushes against his arm, signaling for him to be more attentive. He glances at her, closes his eyes for a moment in preparation, then looks up at the group of men in front of him.

Every single pair of eyes is boring right into him.

“So,” Jisung vaguely hears Kyu’s voice. “Shall we begin?”