Chapter Text
The streets of the Kingdom of Hanbada bustled with noise and color that morning. Merchants called out their wares, children darted between stalls, and the smell of grilled chestnuts and sweet rice cakes lingered in the air. The people whispered excitedly as the royal entourage marched through the market. There were guards in shining armor, banners fluttering, and at the center of it all, Crown Prince Lee Junho.
Junho rode his horse with the ease of someone who believed the entire kingdom belonged to him. His silk robes shimmered in the sun, his black hair tied neatly beneath his ceremonial hat. Yet his smile was not gentle. His was cocky, mischievous, the kind that made young court ladies swoon and palace elders grind their teeth in dismay. At his side trailed his lord-in-waiting, Kwon Minwoo, who looked perpetually tired of managing the prince’s whims.
“Your Highness, perhaps we should not linger too long. The king instructed that this is only a tour,” Minwoo murmured, casting worried glances at the crowd.
Junho waved a dismissive hand. “My father worries too much. What harm could there be in letting the people bask in my presence?” He stopped by a stall selling jeweled hairpins, admiring his reflection in a polished bronze mirror. “Besides, they should be grateful. How often do they get to see such magnificence up close?”
The guards stifled their sighs. Minwoo pinched the bridge of his nose.
That was when Junho’s eyes caught a modest wooden stall tucked between two grander vendors. It was unremarkable at first glance. No silks, no gold, no glittering ornaments. Only small trinkets carved from wood and polished stone. He might have ignored it entirely if not for the peddler who stood behind it.
She was petite, with sharp, curious doe eyes that seemed to cut through the noise of the market. Her hair was tied simply, her clothes plain and patched in places. Yet, there's something about her that draws him in. He felt like a fish caught between the tangles of the net, unable to move or comprehend what is happening.
One other thing that caught Junho’s attention was her wares. Tiny carvings shaped like whales and dolphins lined the table, painted with surprising care. Each piece seemed alive, as though ready to leap into the sea.
Intrigued despite himself, Junho approached. “What odd things you sell,” he said, picking up a small dolphin figurine. “Creatures of the ocean? Who would buy such nonsense?”
The peddler’s gaze met his, steady and unflinching for a few seconds before darting away. A brief moment, yet it took Junho's breath away. When she spoke, her words tumbled in a peculiar rhythm, precise yet different, almost as though she weighed each syllable carefully. “They are not nonsense. Whales and dolphins are remarkable animals. They travel in pods, sing songs across the sea, and care for each other. To hold one is to remember compassion.”
Junho blinked, momentarily caught off guard by her unusual cadence. Then a smirk tugged at his lips. “Compassion? What use is that? I am Crown Prince Lee Junho. The only thing worth remembering is power.”
Snickers rose from his guards. The peddler’s eyes narrowed. She stepped closer, her voice rising just enough for the crowd to hear. “Power without compassion makes a tyrant. You may sit in silk and gold, but you do not understand your people.”
Gasps erupted from the marketgoers. No one dared speak to the crown prince like that. Minwoo paled. “Your Highness, perhaps we should —”
But Junho only laughed, sharp and mocking. “And what would a lowly street seller know of ruling a kingdom? With your patched clothes and your strange way of talking? You should be grateful I even look at you.”
For a moment, silence hung between them. Then the peddler’s face hardened, and she raised her voice in a curse that cut through the marketplace like a sharp blade:
“May you find yourself in the same situation as I am, to be different from everybody else, so that you’ll suffer as much as your people do. Maybe then, you’ll be a good fit for a king!”
The crowd stirred, some in shock, others in secret admiration. Junho felt heat rise to his cheeks; not from fear, but from indignation. Lifting his chin in arrogance, he turned away with a scoff. “Ridiculous.”
That night, back in the palace, the words of the peddler still lingered in his mind, like an irritating itch. They grew louder when he knelt before King Lee Sejong and Queen Han Seonyoung.
“Junho,” his father’s voice was stern, weary. “Again, you shame us before the people. You mock them, when you should be protecting them.”
His mother’s expression was colder still. “We have had enough. If you cannot learn humility, if you cannot find someone who can tame your reckless spirit, you will not inherit the throne. We do not care if she is a noblewoman, a slave, or a street peddler. As long as she can hold your reins.”
Junho groaned, bowing stiffly. “I need no one to hold my reins.”
“Then perhaps you need no crown either,” the king said.
Fury burned in Junho’s chest as he stormed to his chambers. He stood in front of his grand mirror, his reddened face reflected on its smooth surface. He tore off his robes and flung himself onto his bedding, muttering, “A peddler, taming me? Impossible.”
But as sleep dragged him under, her voice echoed again: May you suffer as your people do…
Junho woke with a start.
Darkness pressed against his eyes, panic settling in. He clawed at his face, thinking he’d gone blind, until his fingers found a soft cloth covering his eyes. He ripped it off and froze. Embroidered in neat, curved letters were the characters:
우영우.
Woo Youngwoo.
His heart pounded. Looking around, he realized, this was no palace chamber. Strange objects cluttered the room: thick books lining the shelves, strange words written on a paper stuck into a wooden dresser, tiny whale figurines lined along a window sill.
He is suddenly filled with rage. Could it be... did THAT street peddler abducted him in the middle of the night, while he was asleep? He paced the floor angrily. Where are the royal guards who were supposed to ensure his safety? How could someone so small, so fragile, so... beautiful carry him off and away from the grand palace?
Then he saw the mirror.
Junho staggered forward, every nerve in his body screaming. The reflection staring back at him was not his own.
It was her. The peddler.
And worse. Her body was now his.
Junho’s scream echoed so loud that a middle-aged man burst into the room.
“What’s wrong, Youngwoo-ya?” The man asked, and Junho can't help but think of how odd the man's clothes are.
“Who... who are you?” His voice trembled, his body shaking violently.
“Who am I? What is wrong with you? I am Woo Gwangho, your father. And you are Woo Youngwoo. My only child and daughter.”
“D-daughter?” Junho looked at the mirror and screamed again, the sound rattling the glass.
Got a sudden burst of inspiration while looking at these photos. I miss uri whale couple.🐳🥹
