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Zhang Hao wakes up in a room. A room in a palace. In a dress. Which is odd, because he’s pretty sure he fell asleep at the dorm in his boxers.

Zhang Hao is sitting on his knees. There’s a rug beneath him, massive and embroidered to the edges. He takes a second look at his surroundings. A stick of incense burns on the table near the center of the room. The lantern overhead would undoubtedly be glowing if it weren’t for the morning sunlight filtering through the sheer, ornate curtains. There are songbirds by the window, trilling a tune.

This is definitely not the dingy old dorm he shares with his groupmates.

The fact is that Zhang Hao is sitting in front of a wooden dresser that holds up a mirror. And when he looks at his reflection in the mirror, it’s him. Same old him with the blonde color that’s starting to fade from his hair.

He inspects the palms of his hands. Gropes his arms and waist a few times to take note of how he can feel the meaty parts of his physical body.

Of course, that brings Zhang Hao’s attention to what he’s wearing. His bare stomach and boxers have been replaced by these gorgeous, long robes of the most delicate satin-blue color. He lifts his arms in awe; the sleeves flow to his movement like petals in the breeze.

He’s wearing a dress. Like, for a woman. A strange situation, but it does look pretty good on him.

“Princess Hao,” a familiar voice calls from beyond the folding doors. “The king and queen await your presence.”

Zhang Hao blinks. Not just any woman, but a princess?

“Um,” he says. Whoever had spoken to him is still by the doors, judging from the shadow Zhang Hao can see through the lattice. “Come in?”

The doors slide open with a low creak. There is a person. A man. Zhang Hao half expects him to be sporting a tall hair bun and one of those sharp beards, but he’s clean-shaven. Short hair with bangs and a sunkissed brown dye job. Huh.

He greets Zhang Hao by bowing deeply. He doesn’t dare make eye contact with the ‘princess’, presumably unpermitted, but even from this angle Zhang Hao knows exactly who that face belongs to.

“Taerae?”

Entirely unfazed, Taerae ignores the obvious shock in Zhang Hao’s voice and simply tips his head down in acknowledgment of his name. He stands at the doorway, hands kept together and tucked in his long sleeves. His garments are much simpler than Zhang Hao’s elegant silks.

Ah. So this is one of those weirdly lucid dreams.

“We will head out when you’re ready,” Taerae says. Zhang Hao never would’ve imagined Taerae with such a strong sense of austerity. It doesn’t suit him, considering how smiley he is all the time in… in real life? Reality? This is a dream, right?

Either way, he supposes there’s no harm in going along with it. Gathering his dress, Zhang Hao gets on his feet. “Of course, yes. Lead the way.”

So Zhang Hao’s almost 100% sure this is a dream.

Outside, he steps foot onto possibly the grandest palace he’s ever seen in his life. Taerae walks him down the halls where stalks of cherry blossom trees lean in and greet him to the spring season. As do the hundred or something attendants that brisk by them, stopping to bow for Zhang Hao until they’re out of his sight.

Honestly? Zhang Hao is enjoying the treatment. It’s a shame that this is only a figment of his imagination. Fansites could learn a thing or two from these attendants.

As he’s guided through the palace and out to the courtyard, Zhang Hao keeps his face still and calm. Internally, he’s gasping at the scenery. The ponds with lotus flowers and fish ambling about the clear waters. The towering structures and pillars of the palace, gold adornments catching the daylight.

Zhang Hao looks back at Taerae. He’s a couple of steps ahead of him. Zhang Hao had considered the possibility this was some sort of strange alternative reality that they (the group, that is) had been thrown into (maybe someone performed a shady ritual at the dorms before bed?). But Taerae seems like he’s simply another piece to this world.

That does make Zhang Hao wonder. Could the others be here too? So far, it’s only Taerae. Maybe Ricky’s in here somewhere. He’d fit the genre pretty well.

Now for the current matter at hand. Taerae has been walking Zhang Hao for several minutes and he still has no clue why.

“What did you say we were doing today?”

He can’t help a small frown at his performance. He could stand to sound a bit more regal. Then again, it probably doesn’t matter much if everyone’s already treating him like a princess anyway.

“Your Highness, we are gathering at the courtyard this morning to welcome the Sung prince from his journey to our kingdom,” Taerae answers.

“Ah,” Zhang Hao says. “Thank you for the reminder.”

Well, that’s certainly something. A prince, eh? Zhang Hao hopes he’s historical fantasy handsome. If Taerae is anything to go by, this dream isn’t going to be historically accurate… is it? That’d be disappointing. He doesn’t stay up until 3 AM on the weekends watching all those dramas for nothing.

They reach the courtyard. The gates open to an open square of smooth stone tiles and a crowd gathered at the foot of the stairs. Taerae takes Zhang Hao over to the man and woman surveying the scene, dressed in more layers than everyone else. The royals—Zhang Hao’s parents in this universe? They’re not his actual parents, just a pair of random people.

They’re quite a bit intimidating. Zhang Hao gingerly steps to the queen’s side, a beautiful woman who smiles at him cordially. It’s a relief that they don’t seem like the evil royal parents archetype.

Taerae exchanges a brief word with the king that Zhang Hao doesn’t quite catch. Whatever it is, the king strokes his impressive coiffed beard and nods.

“Yes, I see. You may return, Eunuch Taerae.”

Dismissed, Taerae bows and backs away.

Meanwhile, Zhang Hao’s jaw drops. But he remembers he’s meant to be a prim and proper princess and quickly covers his mouth. Did he hear that right? Taerae’s a eunuch? Oh, poor guy… He’ll have to mourn for the loss of Taerae’s balls.

Zhang Hao takes this moment to observe the courtyard before him. Plenty of attendants are lined up, some by the outer gates, clearly expecting visitors. The prince and his posse, no doubt.

There’s a strange tension in the air, Zhang Hao realizes. Some of the attendants’ eyes wander around and the king’s hand stroking his beard is impatiently harsh.

“Has something changed with our arrangement?” the king’s voice booms. “I was told the prince was set to arrive hours ago. Where are the messengers?”

The attendants visibly stiffen. None of them have an answer and no one dares to speak up. Even Zhang Hao is worried about what the king will be like when he’s agitated if the dramas have taught him anything.

Just then, someone comes running in.

“Let me in!” the person shouts. “I’m a guard for the Sung family!”

All heads including Zhang Hao’s turn to the gates where the newcomer is wrestling himself out of the soldiers’ arms. They let him go, albeit begrudgingly. He nearly trips on his feet sprinting into the courtyard and… Holy shit, is that Matthew?

He’s certainly dressed like a royal guard. Despite the loosely fit robes, he’s obviously got a fair amount of muscle. Zhang Hao sees him much clearer once he’s made his way through the crowd and halts before the royals. The shorter, ash-colored hair. The curtain bangs. That’s Matthew!

Matthew doesn’t look like he’s in good shape, unfortunately. There’s a small cut going across his cheek and part of his robes are torn.

Zhang Hao watches in concern as Matthew throws himself onto his knees, bowing as deep as he can before the royal family. He’s got a sword in his hand that thwacks against the ground when he goes down.

The king strokes on. “Hmm, I see you wear the insignia of the royal Sung guard. Speak.”

“Your Majesties, Your Highness,” Matthew starts, out of breath, “I was accompanying the prince’s carriage when we were suddenly attacked by a group of half-man, half-wolf beasts in the forest. We could not fend them off and the prince was taken away.”

The queen gasps. Zhang Hao feels conflicted. It’s good to see Matthew and everything, but, like… Oh no? He hadn’t realized werewolves and a prince-napping was where things were headed. At least he was right about this being a historical fantasy.

“My, that’s horrible,” says the queen.

“Indeed,” the king shakes his head. “If anything happens to the prince on our kingdom grounds, it would not do well for our allyship.”

Zhang Hao glances at his temporary parents. Should he also say something here?

“Did you, uh, see where the prince was taken?”

Matthew peers up. He doesn’t find anything strange about ‘Princess Hao’ either, just like Taerae. It really is just Zhang Hao with the fourth wall knowledge of being out of place…

“The beasts were headed to the cave by the waterfall with the prince, Your Highness,” Matthew informs with a grave face.

“And you were spared?” The king raises a brow.

Matthew’s head falls again. “Yes, Your Majesty. They had me relay a message: that they demand the princess to be sent to the cave, alone, if the prince is to be set free.”

Right. Zhang Hao should’ve seen this coming. This sort of nonsense always happens to main characters.

Everyone turns to Zhang Hao then, hushed. Which makes sense. A cave full of violent werewolves is possibly the last place you’d want to send a princess to.

But Zhang Hao has to think about what a main character would say here. Would a beloved princess like himself say ‘that’s tough’ and return to his chambers, leaving the attendants to figure things out?

Obviously not!

“I shall go,” Zhang Hao declares. “We must save the prince.”

He’s met with silence.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t the way to go. He should’ve thought that through. Would it really have been princess-like to offer to go to save the prince? It’d probably just put both of them in danger, now that he considers it. God, that was stupid of him. What would he even do against a bunch of werewolves? Perform a three-heart aegyo routine for them?

Then an advisor speaks up and says, “The princess is right. His Highness is the only one who can save the prince!”

Another raises his voice, “Exactly! Princess Hao is the strongest warrior in the kingdom, after all!”

Oh. What?

“I am?” Zhang Hao asks.

Some of the attendants are nodding. Actually, even the king and queen are, too.

“You valiantly slayed a thousand goblins that stormed the palace last summer,” the queen recounts. “It was the day of your birthday celebration.”

“Without even ruining your beautiful attire!” an attendant squeaks from below.

Zhang Hao points at himself. “I did?”

“And you saved not one, but two villages from being raided by pirates all in one night,” the king proudly adds.

Zhang Hao is still pointing. “I did?”

“Oh Your Highness, you are so humble!” an older guard exclaims. “We all believe in your ability to bring the prince home safely!”

The king raises his arm in address. “Then it is decided. The princess shall defeat the werebeasts and save the Sung prince from peril!”

Zhang Hao’s mouth gapes open.

“I—”

—didn’t do any of that, he wants to object. No matter what sort of freak of nature the princess is in this universe, Zhang Hao wasn’t the one to kill all those goblins and pirates! Zhang Hao is just an idol. A professional singer and dancer and cutie patootie. Sauntering into that cave all willy-nilly is going to be a certified death sentence, yet no one in this world would understand that.

It’s fine. No, it’s totally fine. This is a dream, right? You can’t die in dreams. He’ll probably just wake up or something if anything happens. Yeah.

“The beasts said that you must go alone,” the queen says, turning to Zhang Hao. “But you should at least have a guard accompany you there, yes? Even if you’re more than capable of defending yourself.”

I am the least capable, Mother. Zhang Hao screams on the inside.

“Of course,” Zhang Hao says to her with his best customer service smile. “I’ll head out right away. I mustn’t make the prince wait any longer.”

The king glances at a man who’s dressed like a general. “Bring me your best guard here,” he demands. “Someone who knows his way well. He’ll escort the princess through the forest.”

In response, the general looks over his shoulder and makes eye contact with a certain guard. He flicks his head to the side, signaling for that guard to break from his formation in line.

Much to Zhang Hao’s surprise, the guard that steps forward is tall and broad and has the sprightly face of Gunwook. There’s member number three.

The attendants are dismissed for the time being. Nothing for them to do when the prince’s apparently been taken hostage. Zhang Hao’s temporary parents offer him words of encouragement and then they just sort of… leave him to it. Wonderful.

Zhang Hao sighs. Gunwook has been standing by his side silent and at the ready. His posture is perfect but less in the ‘I’m a strict and diligent guard’ way and more in the ‘oh my god it’s the princess’ way.

“Hi, Gunwook.”

Gunwook flushes. “H- Hello, Your Highness.”

Zhang Hao smiles. Even with the royal guard getup, he’s a cute kid.

Between the palace and the forest, there is a village. They said Gunwook is here to guide him through the forest, but Zhang Hao is currently far more grateful for his presence mediating him and the starstruck villagers who are acting like Zhang Hao is a gift from the heavens.

Zhang Hao just does what he’s seen on TV and gives the villagers slow princess waves.

It’s a nice place. A lot different from the grandiosity of the palace. The houses are small and modest and the villagers’ hands are busy with their own thing. The street vendors remind him of home, almost. Half of the buildings he can see are tea shops, serving gossiping elders outside.

The only problem right now is that it’s sort of awkward. Gunwook hasn’t said anything so Zhang Hao hasn’t said anything. It’s likely that Gunwook is nervous, though it’s also definitely that they’re not allowed to speak to the royals unless spoken to.

In short, it’s up to Zhang Hao to take on the mantle.

“What do you know about the prince, Gunwook?”

Gunwook’s shoulders tighten and he regrips the hilt of his sword. “Not much, Your Highness! Just that he’s been looking forward to meeting you.”

Aw. Zhang Hao was banking on intel about the prince’s looks, but he supposes that’s nice of him.

“Be at ease,” he says, eyeing Gunwook’s stiff posture.

“Understood, Your Highness,” Gunwook says. His stance remains the same.

Zhang Hao pats his arm. “Please, just call me by my name. It’s only us two right now.”

Gunwook finally meets Zhang Hao’s gaze. The wide-eyed look of anxiousness is unmistakable. Zhang Hao feels bad about it, to be frank. He doesn’t want Gunwook to be going around shaking like an Italian greyhound.

“Let’s talk about life. How is life? What’s it like being a royal guard?”

Listen, that’s the best Zhang Hao has in him. What else is he going to ask historical fiction Gunwook about? Taxes?

“I’ve only just completed my training,” Gunwook says. “I am filled with pride in being able to serve the family.”

“I see,” Zhang Hao nods. He supposes Gunwook isn’t going to start airing out his grievances about the job in front of his employer. “I’m glad you’re here, Gunwook. You’re an indispensable part of the royal guard.”

Zhang Hao assumes so, anyway. Something about being multitalented in every life.

Gunwook bows his head.

“I won’t let you down, Your—” He catches himself. “Princess… Hao.”

Endeared, Zhang Hao laughs. “Yes, I’m Princess Hao. We’ll work on that.”

The conversation settles down. Zhang Hao catches a glimpse of Gunwook’s lips curled into a pleasant smile. He’ll consider that mission accomplished.

There’s yet another tea shop that they walk past. One that’s particularly bustling, tables full of chattering customers and servers maneuvering in and out of the space.

Zhang Hao squints. Is that… a server? He’s much too strikingly handsome to be a normal person. And that hair! A soft, cream-white color tied into a high ponytail that reaches down to his waist. Was this universe secretly a danmei all along?

The server turns their way, blinking. Oh, wait. That’s Ricky. Somehow unsurprising.

What is surprising is the fact that Ricky hardly pays Zhang Hao any attention. Instead, Gunwook is staring, mesmerized, and he and Ricky exchange a shy little wave of ‘hello’ at each other before moving on.

Zhang Hao narrows his eyes at Gunwook.

“Do you like him or something,” he asks.

“No?!” Gunwook immediately says, head swiveling in Zhang Hao’s direction. His face is beet red.

“Uh-huh.”

Gunwook looks like he’s about to implode. “I just…frequent their establishment! They have nice tea.”

“Right,” Zhang Hao says. “I bet they do.”

“Please don’t ask,” Gunwook whimpers, defeated.

Zhang Hao snorts. Ah, young love.

“It’s good to be more open with your feelings, Gunwook. Life is short, isn’t it? Who knows what’ll happen in a few years.”

Or if you’ll get transported into a completely separate lifetime.

The forest isn’t as daunting as they made it out to be. It’s a nondescript forest. You know, with trees and shrubbery and grass sprouting from the moist ground. The only piece of knowledge Zhang Hao can offer is to follow the river. But Gunwook’s not an idiot and he’s already doing exactly that.

“Wolf tracks,” Gunwook mutters, observing the crudely blazed trail along the forest floor. “But they walk on two feet. Werebeasts. There must be at least six or seven of them.”

“Interesting,” says Zhang Hao. They weren’t kidding about Gunwook knowing his way well.

Gunwook straightens up. “I do not doubt that they won’t stand a chance against you, Princess!”

Zhang Hao grimaces. Not this again. “I appreciate it.”

It takes a bit for them to hike their way through the forest, treading over marks left in the beasts’ wake. Although Zhang Hao is woefully unprepared for the epic princess VS. werewolf face-off that he’s soon to be thrust into, he keeps his spirits high. Something about this world and his journey is… kinda fun. Especially the members’ cameos. He has the feeling that no matter what he says or does, things will go his way regardless. Is this what it’s like to be on a power trip?

Then Gunwook stops. The waterfall’s up ahead—Zhang Hao hears it roaring.

“There’s an opening behind the water. That’s the cave.”

Just like Matthew told them. Zhang Hao purses his lips.

“Well, let’s get to it.”

They step along the riverbank and hop onto the glistening rocks. Zhang Hao’s long dress wasn’t built for this. He gathers his skirt up the best he can—good thing he got his legs waxed recently—and follows Gunwook’s lead.

Gunwook turns around. “Princess,” he says, holding out his hand. “Please watch your step.”

Pleasantly surprised, Zhang Hao takes Gunwook’s hand. Chivalry isn’t dead after all.

The rush of the waterfall grows expeditiously louder as they approach the hidden cave opening. Zhang Hao nearly slips a few times on the slickened river rocks, Gunwook’s arm strength saving him each instance.

Gunwook helps Zhang Hao over until they’re right at the maw. The cave swallows up the sunlight so well that Zhang Hao wouldn’t have a clue as to how far it goes. Gunwook’s expression is serious. Like, serious. Royal guard mode.

“The beasts must be inside,” he says quietly. “They’ve probably sensed that we’re here.”

Zhang Hao exhales. “I’ll head in, then. I must go alone, as per their request.”

Gunwook nods, frowning a little.

“I would accompany you otherwise,” he laments. Then he corrects himself in a panic. “Un- Unless I would end up being in your way, Princess Hao! I am no match for you, after all.”

“Oh, please. Do be easier on yourself,” Zhang Hao tuts. Besides, he doesn’t even know how to wield a blade like Gunwook’s.

Wait. Speaking of blades. Zhang Hao doesn’t… have a weapon on him? Is Gunwook, like, going to hand him one or is Zhang Hao supposed to manifest a sword into his hand, or…

“I’ll be waiting nearby.” Gunwook bows at a perfect ninety-degree angle. “Good luck, Your Highness.”

No weapon, then. Okay.

Zhang Hao waves at him, watches him step away, and faces the dark chasm. Here goes nothing.

The cave is exceptionally dark. And damp. And smells like green moss. Zhang Hao’s flats echo sharply in the cave, reverberating for at least a couple of seconds with each footstep. How deep does this damn thing go?

Here’s the thing: Zhang Hao isn’t scared. The dark cave is whatever, he just has to keep moving forward. The werewolves? Maybe they’re intimidating, but also consider this. What if they were hot? What if Zhang Hao could reason with them? They must understand the human tongue if they sent Matthew with that message.

Hey, a guy can dream. Historical fantasies really don’t hold back on the fantasy part of their name.

Zhang Hao doesn’t get very far in. Torchlight in the near distance illuminates the burrow. Correctly deducing that the kidnappers have the prince there, Zhang Hao strides on until a figure emerges from the sidelines to block his path. He stops where he’s at, watching several more werewolf-shaped silhouettes surround the creature.

He looks up, faced with the leader of the pack towering above him.

What a letdown.

The werewolf in question isn’t hot at all. On the contrary, he’s quite ugly. He’s like a literal wolf that woke up one day with the urge to be bipedal. He has a horribly hunched back and there’s saliva dripping down his furry chin. Ew.

“So they did send their lovely little princess all alone,” the werewolf rumbles in his gruff voice, doing something with his hideous face that Zhang Hao can only assume to be a grin. “You humans never fail to amuse me with your stupidity.”

“You’re pretty eloquent for a wolf,” Zhang Hao points out.

The werewolf doesn’t humor him. “You have so much confidence, walking into a wolf’s den like this.”

Christ. Zhang Hao does not want to be looking at this creature any longer. Time to get to the point.

“Uh, yeah, so I’m here to save the prince.”

“And what makes you think we’re going to let you walk out of here with him?” he asks in a nasty snarl.

“I don’t know,” Zhang Hao says simply. Strangely, the wolf was right about him being confident. Something deep within him knows he’ll make it out of here without breaking a sweat. “It’s my fate, I guess.”

The beast guffaws. “Well, why don’t you try, little princess. See if you can get past us.”

Emphasis on the us. The pack of werewolves lurking behind him inch forward, showing sharp teeth and growling in bloodlust.

Zhang Hao shrugs. “Okay.”

He takes a step forward. An arm’s width distance between him and the main bad guy. He’s not exactly sure how to do this, but maybe he just has to… Hit him?

Curling his hand into a fist, Zhang Hao takes a big swing of his arm and aims at the werewolf’s chest.

The werewolf goes flying back. He’s launched into the dirt and passes the fuck out on the cave floor like Zhang Hao’s fist was a speeding truck. His goons are speechless.

Zhang Hao’s eyes flit from the unconscious werewolf to his fist.

Oh. It’s that easy?

Realizing the caliber of the opponent they’re up against, the rest of the pack goes at Zhang Hao. Sadly for them, their leader was the heaviest one and Zhang Hao absolutely bodies them. One by one, they get sent off like ragdolls and stumble to the ground with the living daylights knocked out of them.

And Zhang Hao doesn’t even ruin his dress in the process.

The metaphoric dust settles with the princess as the sole-standing victor. Littered across the cave are the werewolves, some still groaning. Zhang Hao daintily steps around them, lifting his skirt. Except for the leader of the bunch—Zhang Hao struts right on top of him, satisfied by the wheeze he does under Zhang Hao’s weight. That’s for all the princesses who get undermined by obnoxious male characters.

A silence befalls the cave, which a fresh voice cuts into.

“Um, hello? Is someone there?”

The prince! Zhang Hao almost forgot.

He rushes over to the innermost part of the cave. The torches are set up along the walls back here, thankfully providing an ample amount of light for Zhang Hao to see. There’s someone bound in thick rope and helplessly lying on his side. Must be him.

“I’ll untie you in a second,” Zhang Hao assures.

Crouching down to the prince’s side, he carefully turns him over. Then the prince lifts his head and they’re eye-to-eye with each other. Zhang Hao falters back a bit in shock, now that he’s learned what the prince’s face looks like.

“Hanbin?”

You know, they did say it was the Sung prince. As in Sung Hanbin. Zhang Hao’s not sure how he didn’t put two and two together earlier.

Hanbin looks equally as surprised. He’s got a patch of dirt on his cheek. “Princess… Hao?”

Zhang Hao clears his throat. He’d almost called him Hanbinnie. It wouldn’t have made sense for the story that he’s committed to playing into at this point.

“Prince Hanbin, you’re safe now. I’ve defeated the werebeasts.”

Hanbin’s jaw drops. “You did?”

“They weren’t too tough,” Zhang Hao says honestly. Maybe Princess Hao being the ‘strongest warrior in the kingdom’ is only a local legend.

The rope’s tied pretty securely, but Zhang Hao manages to undo the knot after a bit of fiddling and tugging. Freed from the rope, Hanbin lets out a relieved exhale and starts to push himself up from the ground. To Zhang Hao’s concern, Hanbin winces like he’s in pain.

“What’s the matter?” Zhang Hao frowns. “Are you hurt?”

Hanbin’s gaze shifts over to his legs. “My ankle,” he says. “I…think it’s sprained.”

“Oh, dear.”

Zhang Hao takes a look. Hanbin’s left ankle is bruised and limp on the ground. There’s no way Hanbin is walking with that leg.

Well, that just leaves him with one real solution.

Slipping his arms under Hanbin’s body, Zhang Hao lifts him. Hanbin’s already lanky and easy to carry in real life—the superhuman princess strength makes Hanbin light as a feather.

Hanbin gasps. “Princess Hao, there’s no need,” he insists, though the way he’s clinging onto Zhang Hao is sending a different message.

“How else are you going to get out of this place?” Zhang Hao scoffs. “Just let me.”

“I guess you have a point,” Hanbin says, not sounding very upset about it.

“Princess Hao!” Gunwook rushes up to the two as they finally escape the cave’s darkness. Seeing Hanbin in Zhang Hao’s arms, Gunwook swiftly drops into a respectful bow. “Prince Hanbin, I’m relieved to see you’re safe and well.”

Hanbin makes a strange face at him.

“Gunwook,” Zhang Hao says. “You should hurry back and let the others know that the prince is safe. He’ll need a medic to look over his ankle.”

Gunwook glows at the order. The kid must really love his job, huh?

“You’ll know your way?”

“I remember it, yes.”

“Understood.” Almost bouncing in joy, he adds, “I never doubted you for a second, Princess Hao. You’re such an inspiration to all of us.”

Having felt the true strength of this universe’s princess, Zhang Hao smiles at the praise. Now he gets how he could slay a thousand goblins in a night.

“I thank your encouragement,” he tells him. “Go along, now. Have them prepare a room for the prince as soon as possible.”

Gunwook’s gone in a matter of seconds.

Zhang Hao looks to Hanbin, sitting pretty and rather content in his arms.

“Shall we head out?”

For some reason, Hanbin blushes.

“You’re, uh… You’re very strong,” he says while Zhang Hao’s padding his way off of the riverbank.

“Impressed?” Zhang Hao decides to tease him.

Unexpectedly, Hanbin averts his eyes and nods like a shy maiden. How is Zhang Hao meant to react to that? It’s hard to stay immersed in the role of a princess when Hanbin is so… familiar to him. He doesn’t feel as distant as the other members are in this world.

Or maybe that’s just how the dynamics of the princess and the prince of this story are.

Zhang Hao treks deep into the forest. He does, in fact, remember his way around. The path that Gunwook took him down was fairly straightforward.

It’s odd when he thinks about it. Zhang Hao bridal-carrying Hanbin and strolling through a peaceful forest like this is an average Tuesday. He’d imagined a prince from one of these stories would be more, say… Princely? Imposing?

Hanbin is neither of those things. He seems pretty happy to be carried around by Princess Hao. Like he belongs in his arms or something unbearably cute like that.

“Hao,” Hanbin says, a sudden sense of urgency in his voice. “Princess, I just remembered…”

“Yes?” Zhang Hao responds, slightly bewildered. It feels like it’s been eons since someone called him just by his name.

At that exact moment, he hears it too. Footsteps crushing the grass somewhere not too far away. A sizable group of something rapidly approaching.

Hanbin peers up at Zhang Hao in worry. “The wolves were in cohorts with some bandits. I think that’s them. They’ve got… weapons.”

“Shit,” Zhang Hao mutters. That doesn’t sound good. “Don’t make a sound.”

Finding the nearest bushes that could hide the both of them, Zhang Hao ducks down and places Hanbin as carefully as he can on the ground. They’re up against a tree trunk that’s wide enough to cover their figures.

It was a good call from Hanbin. Zhang Hao takes a peek—the bandits come following the exact path they’d been taking. They do indeed have weapons with them. The sharp, silver kind. Zhang Hao wouldn’t have wanted to risk bringing his fists to a sword fight on top of needing to protect Hanbin.

Zhang Hao quickly retracts himself before they’re seen. Some of the bandits are stepping closer to their hiding spot. In an attempt to make himself smaller, he presses closer to the tree trunk, unintentionally sandwiching Hanbin in between.

He only notices how close they are when their arms accidentally brush.

It’s hard to look anywhere but Hanbin’s flushed face. Which is exactly what Zhang Hao decides to stare at while the bandits are passing by. Hanbin’s eyes are large, like a deer caught in headlights. Zhang Hao can hear him breathing fast.

Strange. It’s far from the first time Zhang Hao has looked at Hanbin’s face, they’re not ones to shy away from skinship even on camera. Maybe it’s the dream that’s doing something weird to him. Making him… notice all these things about Hanbin he hadn’t thought about before. Were his eyes always this shimmery? Did his lips always have such a pretty shape? Was he always so… sparkly?

Oh my god. Why are there sparkles around Hanbin’s face. Is Zhang Hao in an anime or something? Where the hell is the VFX coming from?!

Hanbin just keeps gawking at him. Fluttering his lashes and having his lips parted like he’s about to say something. Or he’s expecting something. Sure, Zhang Hao has always acknowledged that Hanbin is gorgeous, but—this is just something different entirely!

In the midst of it all, Hanbin puts his pretty fingers along Zhang Hao’s arm and whispers as though he’s enamored, “Hao…”

Zhang Hao gay panics and smacks his palm over Hanbin’s mouth.

The bandits didn’t hear that, did they?

The two of them wait. And wait. Until the shuffling of grass and leaves subsides into a nice, calm quietness. Until the only sounds to be heard are both of their breaths.

Zhang Hao bristles up.

“Prince Hanbin, I told you we had to be quiet!”

“I’m sorry,” Hanbin sheepishly says, letting Zhang Hao collect him in his arms again. “I’m not sure what got into me.”

Zhang Hao pouts. That scenario could’ve panned out a whole lot worse.

“I don’t recall saying you could drop the honorific.”

“Oh.” Hanbin smiles. His face crinkles up like kitten whiskers in the way Zhang Hao’s always found unfairly attractive. “Princess Hao. I hadn’t realized.”

Zhang Hao sighs. “I’m kidding. I don’t care for the honorifics. But you really should when we’re around others.”

He’s probably the only damn princess out there that’s charmed by this flustered mess of a fantasy prince.

Somehow, they’ve already prepared some fanfare for their arrival at the palace.

Zhang Hao feels a bit embarrassed about it. The attendants split apart like the sea with a fancy carpet laid out before them. And Hanbin isn’t able to walk on his own so Zhang Hao has to go down the carpet, carrying the dear prince in his arms, and flash a smile about it.

Gunwook is even cheering him on, though only when the general isn’t paying attention to him. Matthew is next to him, dropping to his knees at the revelation that his prince has returned safely. Taerae the Eunuch is off to the side and quietly soaking in the atmosphere with his eyes shut. Losing your balls really does change you, huh?

The path leads Zhang Hao right up to his temporary royal parents. With Hanbin still in his arms. Is no one going to get this guy a chair or something? A carriage? Whatever’s the closest thing they have to a stretcher? Surely this is an astronomical amount of embarrassing for Hanbin too.

“You did it, my dear,” the queen gushes. “Oh, you are just too amazing.”

“Indeed,” the king booms. Hanbin flinches at his thunderous volume. “We warmly welcome you to the Zhang estate, Prince Hanbin of the Sung kingdom.”

“It’s an honor,” Hanbin says from Zhang Hao’s arms. Zhang Hao presses his lips into a line.

Then the queen places her hand on her husband’s arm, leaning into him.

“Tell them, my king.”

“Ah, yes.” The king’s hand rakes through his beard. A familiar sight by now. “You see, my princess, I had spoken to our Prophet while you were out bravely retrieving the prince. I felt that these events were no mere coincidence. That the spirits have things planned for us. For you two, in fact.”

Zhang Hao gulps. Where is this headed?

“Go on, Father.”

“Prophet Gyuvin has Read that—”

Now hold on. Zhang Hao turns his head. Come to think of it, there is that strange, tall, cloaked figure near the back of the courtyard. And is that…a crystal orb in his hands? Are they serious? That’s not even from the same genre!

“—the signs point to you and the prince being tied by fate,” the king finishes. “So naturally, Prince Hanbin shall propose to Princess Hao and the ceremony will take place immediately!”

“Propose?” Zhang Hao repeats, wanting to drop Hanbin on the floor.

“Propose?” Hanbin echoes, nearly falling out of Zhang Hao’s arms.

The gathering breaks out into fanfare once more.

Zhang Hao and Hanbin look at each other, flabbergasted. They look at Zhang Hao’s temporary parents and then at the attendants cheering on their behalf. Gunwook and Matthew are jumping up and down like their favorite team just won the Super Bowl. Hell, Taerae is giving two supportive thumbs up to Zhang Hao.

Is Gyuvin even a real fucking prophet?

“I guess we’re getting married?” Hanbin says.

You know what? It’s not worth getting all worked up over this. Maybe it’s time to just let things happen. As dreams go.

If he were to theoretically marry someone, he’d want it to be Hanbin anyway.

“I guess we are,” Zhang Hao replies, “husband.”

Hanbin takes a very long moment to stare at Zhang Hao.

“Wife…?”

In one of the many guest chambers within the palace, prodigy healer Han Yujin performs his magic on Hanbin’s sprained ankle. Zhang Hao is there to witness the miraculous healing, counting up the members he’s collected. All they’re missing now is Jiwoong. What a colorful dream cast.

On that note, when is Zhang Hao going to wake the hell up?

It feels like hours have passed already. Zhang Hao didn’t go to bed very early and he’d set his alarm to 8:45 on the dot. He normally never dreams for long, let alone experience one in a state of such profound awareness. Maybe something funny will happen, like his alarm ringing right before he and Hanbin are meant to kiss at the wedding ceremony.

Or something.

Zhang Hao’s temporary parents have his schedule for the night packed to the brim. At least most of them are festivities. A preliminary dinner, a second grand feast, a third for dessert. All accompanied by entertainment from a troupe of singers and dancers. It’s almost like he’s back at one of those award shows.

Hanbin has yet to propose to him. According to Taerae, there’s a proper procedure that has to be done for that. On paper, it’s set to happen within three days, provided VIPs from the Sung side of things can reach the kingdom in time.

Which Zhang Hao doesn’t bother fussing about, since he’ll definitely be long gone from this dream before then.

Anyways. It’s an hour or two til sundown, which is when they’re meant to gather for the first event of the night. Zhang Hao would’ve liked to relax and take it easy after a complicated day, but attendants come bursting into his room and dragging him along a twenty-step bath and wellness routine.

But Zhang Hao isn’t complaining. It comes with a full body massage, manicure, warm milk bath, and the scent of fresh flower herbs from the royal gardens. The ladies are quite chipper and gossip with each other the whole time, and boy are those stories juicy. Even if Zhang Hao doesn’t know a single name that comes up.

So Zhang Hao is pretty much ready to enjoy the night to its fullest, on the assumption that these are the final hours of his lucid dream. The ladies start to dress him in the finest robes of his closet, a lengthy process that consists of many, many layers. They have him sit before the dresser. Hello, again. It’s unreal to think that this is where it all started. Just him, kneeling in front of the mirror.

The ladies shuffle around him. “Your eyes, Princess,” one of them instructs. “Onto your makeup.”

Zhang Hao shuts his eyes. Little do they know that he’s already used to this sort of thing from a very… different setting. Could this be saying something about the parallels between idol life and princess life?

No, that’s just ridiculous. He’d never have his groupmates castrated.

“Chin up. Good. Open your eyes, Your Highness,” another says, with a suspiciously low voice.

Weren’t the attendants here to style him all young ladies? Zhang Hao opens his eyes one by one.

Then he gets startled by Jiwoong’s impassive face staring down at him.

“Ahh!”

Perplexed, Jiwoong backs away. He’s holding up a thin brush with its bristles dipped in red powder.

“Have I done something to offend you, Your Highness…?”

Zhang Hao puts a hand on his chest, willing himself to relax. It’s just Jiwoong. Oh, hey, that’s the last member.

“It’s nothing,” Zhang Hao exhales. “Go ahead.”

Jiwoong makes quick work of him. Makeup, hair, and a load of accessories. Zhang Hao jingles somewhere on his body whenever he so much as turns at a slight angle.

Zhang Hao does a little twirl in front of the mirror.

“This is a lot,” he tells Jiwoong, who looks on with a sage nod.

“You look stunning, Your Highness. No one in this kingdom can match your beauty.”

Zhang Hao cocks a brow at him. “Even my mother?”

Jiwoong’s eyes widen. Perhaps fearing for his livelihood, he corrects himself. “No one except Her Majesty, of course.”

“Of course,” Zhang Hao laughs. He shouldn’t be messing with the poor guy’s heart. “Thank you, Jiwoong.”

Jiwoong’s tension eases off. Then it’s Zhang Hao’s turn for his heart to jump because someone comes dashing into his chambers while shouting, “Princess Hao, are you okay?!”

Zhang Hao’s fists instinctually come up in a combative stance.

Hanbin is at the doorway, heaving.

Zhang Hao blinks, lowering his fists. “I’m okay?”

“Oh,” Hanbin says, catching his breath. “But I… Taerae told me… I ‘must go see the princess’. I thought something had happened.” His eyes glaze over Zhang Hao’s full appearance. “Wow, you look pretty.”

“Thanks,” Zhang Hao says. Taerae…? He thinks, and happens to spot the mysterious Taerae himself passing by the open doors to his chambers. Again, with a thumbs up gesture that’s so horribly out of place for the ancient palace and royal speak.

Behind him, Jiwoong silently greets Taerae with a thumbs up of his own.

The ladies slip out of the room after dismissing themselves. Jiwoong gathers his tools and does the same, making sure to slide the doors closed with a satisfying rattle.

“Your attendants are a bit strange,” Hanbin finally says.

That is the understatement of the century. “A bit,” Zhang Hao agrees.

It goes quiet again. Hanbin walks up to Zhang Hao. His eyes are gleaming.

“You really are beautiful, Princess Hao.”

Trying not to blush too obviously, Zhang Hao fake coughs.

“You don’t need to be calling me by that title every time,” he says. “We’re going to be married soon. You know, husband and husband.”

It’s a weird thing to say out loud. But not all that bad.

Hanbin’s head cants to the side. He breaks out into a smile. A small and fond one that makes his whole face shine in a gentle light.

“I just like calling you princess, I guess. It makes me think of you as my princess.”

Zhang Hao chuckles. “Oh, stop.”

He slaps Hanbin’s shoulder with what was meant to be a light, joking hand. But Hanbin gets completely thrown onto the floor and wheezes, the wind knocked out of him. Whoops. He forgot about that.

“Oh my god,” Zhang Hao gasps, reaching for Hanbin. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

“It’s okay.” Hanbin still manages to laugh. Zhang Hao helps him up. “Your strength is incredible. I admire it.”

Zhang Hao frowns. He does feel bad.

“I’m sorry, Hanbin.”

Startled by something, Hanbin’s mouth opens. It closes back up not long after. He’d joined hands with Zhang Hao and seems to have decided to keep it that way for now.

“You know, it feels like we’re the only two people with common sense sometimes,” Hanbin says.

Zhang Hao’s eyebrows furrow. “I feel that way, too.”

“I thought you would,” Hanbin admits. He smiles then, an utterly handsome thing that prompts Zhang Hao to second-guess himself. “But I want you to know that I’ve got no qualms against marrying you. I’d love to.”

“Hanbin…” Zhang Hao mutters, not sure what to say. Hanbin holds his hands a little tighter. His fingers are soft. And warm. He likes how their hands fit each other. It’s cruel that this is only a dream, how it’s so comforting to hold hands with Hanbin.

Alright, Zhang Hao. Let’s not harbor any weird feelings before your theoretical engagement with the guy.

Even if Hanbin’s smile isn’t helping the cause.

“It’s been a day full of surprises, but if anything I’m glad it was you, Hao.”

That’s not helpful either!

Zhang Hao groans, plopping his forehead onto Hanbin’s shoulder. Thankfully he doesn’t go flying backwards this time.

“Can we stay like this just for a bit?”

“Sure,” Hanbin says. Zhang Hao hears him take a deep breath. “Hao, I—”

Someone raps on the door.

“It’s sundown, Princess Hao,” they say from outside. And pause. “Prince Hanbin.”

Zhang Hao rolls his eyes. “Two minutes, Taerae.”

The feasts of the evening taste as good as Zhang Hao assumes dream food can taste. As he’d expected the palace is filled with classic instruments blaring into the night, dancers performing elaborate routines that Zhang Hao is not entirely sure how his brain is projecting as a part of the dream. He can hardly remember his own group’s choreography.

The point is that it’s a lot. Too much, even. When Zhang Hao’s temporary parents and the guests are distracted by the sweet rice wine, Zhang Hao and Hanbin exchange knowing looks and steal away from the chaos.

They find a spot undisturbed and high above the ground. A passageway that’s open to the crisp air of the night where the breeze whispers through their hair. Overlooking the lantern light, they feel the thrum of the drums through the floor.

It’s pretty nice.

Zhang Hao looks over to his side. Hanbin observes the festivities with his arms crossed, propped up on the balustrade with a secret smile to himself.

“Enjoying yourself?” Zhang Hao asks.

“Kinda,” Hanbin answers. Facing Zhang Hao, his smile softens to something more wistful. “You remember what the king said? About us being tied by fate?”

Zhang Hao nods. He remembers it well.

Hanbin reaches for Zhang Hao’s hands. Oh, lord, it’s like he’s about to propose right then and there. Zhang Hao isn’t spiritually prepared for that. Not when it’s just the two, alone and intimate.

“Well, I’ve always thought that we were fated to be together somehow.”

Zhang Hao thinks about it. “I understand. I think we are, in a strange way.”

Hanbin’s eyes gleam bright like a hopeful star.

“Perhaps in a different life,” he says.

“Perhaps,” Zhang Hao whispers, suddenly stricken with the reality that this—well, isn’t. It’s all a dream. This Hanbin, who is so charming and looks upon Zhang Hao with the most tender gaze, is just a dream.

Zhang Hao supposes that it’s a dream for a good reason.

Then Hanbin brings them in closer.

“Could I kiss you?” he delicately asks. “I have the strange feeling that it’ll be my last chance to tonight.”

“You read my mind,” Zhang Hao admits, pressing his lips onto Hanbin’s.

Zhang Hao’s hands come to Hanbin’s narrow waist. He drags him in. Lets them tilt their heads to kiss deeper, longer. Feel the shape of their lips against the other.

It feels so real, even for a lucid dream.

“Hanbin,” Zhang Hao says, breaking away from the kiss. “I think, in any life, I’d like to kiss you like this again.”

Hanbin laughs. He just laughs and wraps his arms around Zhang Hao to let their foreheads touch.

That night, having tucked himself into bed, Zhang Hao’s heart sinks with regret. In truth, he wouldn’t have minded living out this new life. The proposal, marriage ceremony. Growing old by Hanbin’s side and kissing him each moment he falls in love with him again and again.

But Zhang Hao knows it’s coming to an end. As all good things do. Once the dream fades, they’ll only be groupmates. Like they’ve always been.

Zhang Hao wakes up in his dorm. In his boxers. His phone reads 10:15. Stupid alarm didn’t go off.

It takes five seconds for him to gather his thoughts. He yanks the blanket off himself and makes a mad dash down the hallway to the living room door.

Zhang Hao grabs the doorknob and flings it open. Taerae and Matthew are at the table and Ricky is at the kitchen island, ordering boba on his phone.

Coincidentally, Hanbin rushes into the room from the other hallway at the same moment.

“I had a weird dream last night!” they exclaim in unison.