Chapter Text
The lively atmosphere of the main town was a refreshing contrast for Jaewon who had spent his entire life on the outskirts, far from the bustle and chaos of the city center. Back in his previous town, he’d been living alone and scraping by, doing whatever odd jobs came his way, whether it was running errands, hauling goods, or helping out at the local tavern where travelers from all walks of life often passed through.
When Jaewon received a letter from his aunt inviting him to help in her renowned seamstress shop, excitement surged through him. For as long as he could remember, he had dreamed of becoming a tailor, of learning the delicate art of stitching, and creating garments that told stories of their own. Without hesitation, he eagerly penned his response, knowing this was an opportunity he had always longed for.
He had just arrived that day in the main town, and as he made his way to his aunt’s shop, his attention was caught by a fabric store brimming with vibrant colors and intricate patterns. Among the many textiles, one particular piece of silk shimmered in the light, its rich hue almost glowing. Its texture appeared impossibly soft, as if it were woven from clouds themselves. Unable to resist, Jaewon stepped inside, the mingling scents of various fabrics greeting him like an old friend. He traced his fingers along the fabric’s surface, marveling at its smoothness, lost in the delicate, luxurious feel beneath his touch.
“Excuse me, sir. How much is this?” Jaewon asked as his fingers lingered on the fabric.
“Twenty nyang,” the shopkeeper replied, his voice as calm as if he were offering a cup of tea instead of an overpriced piece of silk.
Jaewon frowned, still stroking the fabric like it might take pity on him and pay for itself. A quick check in his coin purse confirmed his worst fear, it was as empty as his dreams of silk-induced wealth. With a sigh, he dug through his worn-out excuse for a bag, finding nothing but crumpled clothes and—unfortunately—the manuscript. He pulled it out reluctantly, staring at the faded pages with a mixture of regret and simmering anger. It had been sold to him as the Crown Prince’s original copy, a “priceless treasure,” they said. But the only thing it had turned out to be priceless for was teaching him a very expensive lesson in gullibility.
The thought of how easily he’d fallen for the conman made his blood boil. How had he been such a fool? At this rate, the only treasure he’d ever discover was the sheer depth of his own stupidity.
With a frustrated sigh, Jaewon set the fabric down and stepped out of the store, still clutching the manuscript like it was some fragile, embarrassing fragment of his pride. He wandered aimlessly down the street, the bitter taste of humiliation lingering like a bad aftertaste. His eyes scanned the bustling scene around him as if searching for something to distract him.
And then, he spotted him—a man across the street who practically radiated wealth and importance. His robe was so finely tailored it looked like it had been spun from gold thread, and the casual grace with which he flipped through a book practically screamed effortless privilege.
Jaewon narrowed his eyes, watching the man with sudden, reckless curiosity. An idea began to form. A bold, ridiculous, and possibly brilliant idea.
That’s it, he thought, a spark of desperate genius igniting. If anyone would fall for a rare, expensive manuscript written by the Crown Prince, it’s someone who looks like they’ve paid too much for fancy ink before.
He smirked, as if the man’s polished appearance had lit up his world. Without bothering to think it through—as usual—Jaewon crossed the street, his steps growing bolder, powered by blind optimism and a complete lack of shame.
“Maybe… just maybe…” he muttered under his breath, “This man will think it’s a treasure too, and I can finally turn this mess into a win.”
Jaewon stopped a few steps away from the man, adjusting his grip on the manuscript as if it were a precious heirloom rather than a monument to his terrible life choices. He cleared his throat, channeling all the confidence of a man who definitely wasn’t about to commit fraud.
“Excuse me, sir,” Jaewon began, bowing slightly. The man glanced up, his sharp, dark eyes meeting Jaewon’s with a cool, appraising look. Up close, he looked even more refined—a man whose life was likely cushioned by luxury and silk-lined coin pouches.
The man glanced around, checking if Jaewon was really talking to him.
“Yes?” he responded, sounding mildly curious and slightly unsure.
Jaewon smiled awkwardly, lifting the manuscript a little higher. “I couldn’t help but notice you looking at those books, sir. You seem like someone who appreciates rare literary works.” He tried to keep his voice steady, despite the fact that his pulse was racing faster than a startled rabbit.
The man raised an eyebrow, his interest mildly piqued. “And what is it that you’re holding?”
Jaewon’s grip tightened slightly. “Ah, this… This, sir, is no ordinary manuscript,” he said, injecting as much reverence into his voice as he could. “It’s said to be an original piece written by the Crown Prince himself.” He hoped that by saying it with enough confidence, the lie would sound believable, at least enough to spark curiosity.
The man blinked, his gaze shifting to the manuscript in Jaewon’s hands. “The Crown Prince, you say?” His tone remained neutral, but there was a flicker of something. Interest? Suspicion? Jaewon couldn’t tell, and he wasn’t sure which was worse.
“Yes, sir,” Jaewon said, leaning in slightly as if sharing a secret. “A priceless artifact, passed down through discreet hands. I came into possession of it by… rare fortune.” He coughed lightly, hoping that sounded more dignified than “I got conned.”
The man tilted his head, studying Jaewon with a look that made him feel like a particularly curious bug under a magnifying glass. “And you’re offering to sell it?”
Jaewon hesitated, realizing he hadn’t actually thought that far ahead. “Well… I wouldn’t normally part with it, of course,” he said quickly, his mind scrambling for a convincing angle. “But as fate would have it, I’ve fallen on some difficult times, and I’d rather see such a masterpiece in the hands of someone who can truly appreciate it.”
The man hummed thoughtfully, his expression unreadable. “How much are you asking for it?”
Jaewon’s mouth went dry. He hadn’t expected to get this far. He had no idea what a reasonable price for such an “artifact” might be.
“Uh… well…” He pretended to consider, as though calculating a fair price for something of immeasurable value. “Fifty nyang,” he said finally, hoping the number sounded impressive but not outrageous.
The man blinked again, then let out a soft chuckle—a sound that made Jaewon’s stomach drop.
“Fifty nyang, you say?” the man repeated, his lips curling into a faint smile. “For the Crown Prince’s original manuscript?”
Jaewon nodded, trying to keep his expression earnest, though every instinct told him to run.
The man’s gaze shifted to the manuscript, and for a fleeting second, Jaewon thought he might actually be considering it. But then, the man spoke again, his tone light yet laced with something Jaewon couldn’t quite place.
“Tell me,” the man said, closing the book in his hands and placing it back on the shelf with deliberate precision, “how, exactly, did you come to possess this so-called priceless treasure?”
Jaewon swallowed. “Oh, yes, a fascinating tale, really. One involving… a distant merchant, a long journey, and… uh… trust.” His voice faltered slightly on the last word.
The man smiled—a slow, knowing smile that made Jaewon’s stomach twist. “Trust, you say? That’s an interesting choice of words.”
Jaewon gulped, unsure how to respond.
The man suddenly reached out, almost too casually, and plucked the manuscript from Jaewon’s hands.
Jaewon froze, too stunned to protest, as the man flipped through the pages with the practiced ease of someone who had handled a thousand manuscripts before. Then he stared at Jaewon for what felt like an eternity.
Overcame by a sudden wave of panic under such a sharp, scrutinizing gaze, Jaewon jerked the manuscript back, clutching it tightly against his chest. "Fine!" he snapped, his voice wavering. "If you won’t buy it, then forget it!"
But instead of walking away with dignity, Jaewon stayed right where he was, his expression crumbling in a pitiful display. His shoulders slumped, his lips wobbled, and—to his own horror—his eyes welled up with tears.
“I’ll just… I’ll just find another way to feed my child,” he choked out, his voice thick with misery.
Then, as if possessed by a higher power, Jaewon began to bawl.
“He must be so hungry by now…” he wailed, cradling the manuscript like it was his starving infant. “My poor, starving baby… waiting for his father… who has nothing… NOTHING!” His cries grew louder, drawing attention from the bustling crowd around them.
The man recoiled like he’d just been smacked with a wet fish. His composed demeanor faltered, and his brows furrowed in confusion. A child? He sized Jaewon up again, clearly surprised that someone who barely looked old enough to shave was already a parent.
As if on cue, murmurs rippled through the crowd, judgmental eyes darting between Jaewon and the wealthy-looking man. Silent accusations hung in the air, directed squarely at the man—what kind of person stood by while a poor, tear-soaked father begged for help?
The man grimaced, feeling the weight of their collective judgment settle heavily on his shoulders.
With a deep, world-weary sigh, he reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small pouch of coins. “Fine. I’ll buy it,” he muttered, his tone laced with reluctant resignation.
Jaewon’s sobbing stopped immediately, as if someone had flipped a switch. Straightening up, he wiped his tear-streaked face, then smiled brightly, holding out the manuscript with both hands like he was presenting a sacred relic. “Thank you, sir! A wise decision, really! You won’t regret it!”
The man narrowed his eyes, now visibly suspicious, but he handed over the money anyway, placing the pouch in Jaewon’s eagerly outstretched hand.
“Pleasure doing business with you!” Jaewon beamed, pocketing the pouch with a cheerful jingle.
The man stared at him, then at the manuscript in his hand. “You… seem to be feeling better.”
Jaewon let out a nervous laugh, rubbing his nose like a guilty kid caught sneaking sweets. “Ah, well, you know how it is—sometimes all a man really needs is… a little hope, a little kindness…” then in a hushed voice, “… and a surprise financial windfall.”
The man was about to respond when someone called out, “Sir!”
Both Jaewon and the man turned to look—but while the man was distracted, Jaewon took off like a startled cat, legs pumping faster than they ever had in his life. By the time the man turned back around, Jaewon was already gone, leaving behind nothing but the faint jingle of coins and the distant sight of his flapping robes disappearing around a corner.
“Sir Kanghyuk, there you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” said Gyeongwon, Kanghyuk’s right-hand man, as he approached with a respectful bow. “It’s time to go.”
Kanghyuk sighed, staring down at the manuscript in his hands as if it personally offended him. “Right,” he muttered, rubbing his temple. “Let’s… get this over with.”
—
Jaewon was practically radiating joy—the kind of smug, giddy happiness that usually comes after a reckless decision that hasn’t backfired yet. Every step had an extra bounce, like his legs were powered by the sheer thrill of pulling off the perfect con. He clutched the roll of expensive silk to his chest like it was his life’s crowning achievement, beaming as if he’d just been knighted by the king himself.
For all intents and purposes, Jaewon looked like someone who’d just been crowned emperor of the universe. Never mind that his victory hinged entirely on selling a fake manuscript to an unwitting nobleman. In Jaewon's book, a win was a win, no fine print necessary.
Strutting through the door like a hero returning from a grand conquest, he kicked off one shoe with dramatic flair and hollered, “Aunt Youngmi! You won’t believe it—I got my hands on the most stunning silk!”
He shoved open the door with so much enthusiasm it banged against the wall, announcing his arrival to the entire shop. He was halfway through grinning triumphantly when his brain registered the scene inside—and promptly hit the brakes.
He froze mid-step, the grin slipping from his face so fast it might as well have leapt off a cliff. His eyes darted from his aunt, who was staring at him in horror, to the two visitors standing in front of her.
And one of them was him.
Jaewon’s heart plummeted straight to the soles of his feet. Standing there, looking every bit as poised and terrifying as he’d been an hour ago, was the same nobleman he’d swindled. Still dressed in silk. Still regal. And still holding the manuscript.
Maybe this was a hallucination. Maybe he’d eaten something weird. Or maybe this was the universe giving him one final chance to repent.
The nobleman angled his head ever so slightly, his sharp eyes fixed on Jaewon, and offered him the faintest, most terrifying smile Jaewon had ever seen.
Run, Jaewon’s mind urged, but his body remained still, paralyzed by a sudden wave of existential dread. Meanwhile, his soul quietly packed its bags and prepared to leave his body behind.
“Jaewon-ah!” his aunt hissed, her voice a frantic mix of panic, disbelief, and barely concealed fury. “Where are your manners?! Apologize this instant! That’s the Crown Prince Kanghyuk in front of you!”
Jaewon’s world tilted off its axis. His eyes widened until they looked like they might pop out of his skull, and he let out a strangled, high-pitched yelp that could probably summon stray dogs from across the neighborhood.
“What.”
For a split second, his brain considered passing out just to escape the situation. But survival instincts kicked in, and with the grace of a malfunctioning puppet, he snapped into a panicked bow so fast it nearly threw him off balance.
“Apologies, Your Royal Highness!” he squeaked, his voice cracking like a rusty door hinge that hadn’t seen oil since the dawn of time. He wasn’t even sure if he was apologizing for the con or his absurd entrance—both of which were equally likely to be the cause of his untimely demise.
Kanghyuk stood in silent contemplation for a moment, as though savoring the awkward tension hanging thick in the air. Then, he arched a brow and spoke, with the kind of casual menace that made Jaewon’s blood run cold, “Tell me… did that fine piece of fabric nourish your poor, starving child?”
Jaewon, however, was still bent at a 90-degree angle, looking very much like a man who had just been hit by a spiritual truck.
Gyeongwon and Lady Youngmi exchanged puzzled glances, both visibly baffled by the Crown Prince’s cryptic remark.
Kanghyuk sighed theatrically, as if this entire situation was slightly beneath him. “I need a word with him,” he said, gesturing lazily at Jaewon. It was phrased politely enough, but everyone in the room knew it wasn’t a request.
Lady Youngmi, now visibly sweating, tried to smooth things over. “Your Highness, please forgive my nephew. It’s his first time in the main town, and he’ll be staying with me from now on. I assure you, he’s usually quite well-behaved. Please have mercy.” She bowed deeply, her tone as apologetic as humanly possible.
The Crown Prince waved off her apology with a graceful flick of his hand. “It’s alright, Lady Youngmi. His… lack of decorum is hardly my biggest concern right now.” His gaze slid back to Jaewon, eyes glinting with the unmistakable amusement of a predator toying with its prey.
“Right, Jaewon?” he said, his voice unnervingly casual, as if daring Jaewon to respond.
Jaewon, still hunched over as if bracing for divine retribution, let out a feeble, “Yes, Your Highness,”
His tone was that of a man who had just watched his life flash before his eyes—only to find it a tale of misfortune and poor decisions, unfit even for a cautionary legend.