Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Diary Diary,

Life keeps going on, I turned 23 today but nobody wished me.I am tired but I have to keep going on. I completed a manhwa today. A character had the same name as me, But he died in like Chapter 11. I also had milk tea today and brownie. It was so good. I even added a candle to the brownie.

Someone bumped into me today. A very old lady and she was a little weird. I said sorry and helped her cross the road,She said and I quote 'May your wish come true. And like I made a wish like half an hour ago but I really don't hope it comes true.

I have a lot of friends but nobody remembered.I'll go over to the convenience store and buy some mint-choco ice cream.

Toodles.

I went to the convenience store. I just wanted some ice-cream. But the soju seemed like a good option. I bought a pack and ice-cream. The cashier was kind. I went home. Tomorrow is Sunday. Nothing to do, no one to look forward to.

I think i drank more than necessary, because why the fuck is my bed so soft. And Where's my alarm. Someone stop the fucking bell.

Chapter Text

When I opened my eyes, I imagined I was dreaming. 

The ceiling looming above me was too white, too fluffy-looking—like it had been constructed from milk clouds rather than plaster. There were thin golden lines tracing along the corners, creating runes I didn't know. The air was filled with a light scent of lavender and something sweet, like magic had been cooked into the air itself. 

My initial thought was:

"Wow. I must've died really weirdly."

Because there was no way I was still in my world. The ceiling above me resembled something from a fairy tale—white stone inscribed with radiating runes, the kind that looked suspiciously pricey. The sheets beneath me were made of silk. The air was slightly sweet like cinnamon and smoke.

And I was dressed in… pajamas embroidered.

Not the budget kind.

The noble kind.

The 'you're so not middle-class anymore' kind.

Then, it occurred.

The flood.

Memories not my own—spilling in like someone had opened my skull and tipped in an entire life.

A boy weeping in a deserted corridor.

A cold-eyed mother.

A sweet-smiling sister who only smiled when eyes were upon her.

Whispers. Whispers. Accusations.

And then… a funeral.

When I opened my eyes once more, my heart was slowed. My hands were trembling.

"Oh," I breathed. "Oh no. No, no, no—this can't be happening."

It was.

Because I'd known that tale.

This was The Song of Stars' world—a fantasy manhwa I'd completed that day.

A society with nobles, mages, and intrigue.

And the lad whose memories I now possessed?

Sunoo.

The half-brother to Sooha, the female lead.

An underestimated supporting character who perished in Chapter 11 after being falsely accused of being a traitor.

I.e.—me.

But how. how, oh my god. My desire. I wished for an extra life. Oh my god.

"Alright, let's summarize." I sat up, attempting to gasp for air. "I'm in a manhwa. As an early death side character. Fantastic."

I attempted to recall how he died.

If I remembered right, the story went as follows: Sooha, the "nice" female protagonist, was secretly masterminding everything. She utilized Sunoo as her fall guy, portraying him as a jealous brother who resented her. The mother shunned him, the stepfather hated him, and by Chapter 10, he got accused of stealing a sacred artifact.

Chapter 11 was his final one.

He was killed discreetly, off-stage.

Readers didn't even care.

Neither did I.

Until today.

Because today I had his memories. His loneliness. His weariness.

And all of a sudden, I knew why he quit.

He was just… tired.

I got up, legs shaking. The room was something from a museum—distant, elegant, untouched. Sunlight streamed through lace curtains, falling in great sweeps across the marble floor.

Somewhere, in the recesses of my head, a small thought coalesced.

Perhaps I could alter things.

Perhaps I could rewrite history.

But then another thought replied—flat, weary, rational.

What's the use?

This world didn't love Sunoo.

Not in the first tale, and not today.

So I let out a breath and nodded to myself. "Fine then. I'm not going to change anything."

It was absurd even to say it out loud, but it was complete sense.

If the story was already done, and my death was a certainty…then all I had to do was ride it out.

Live in comfort, dine well, shun drama, and pass away peacefully on time.

Then perhaps—possibly—I'd open my eyes again in my own world.

"Yup," I muttered to the vacant space around me, gesturing with my arms. "That's the plan. Slothful rebirth. No heroism."

Later that day, I resolved to go for a walk. Or a sulk, more precisely.

The grounds of the manor were absurdly enormous—long halls with golden-framed portraits, floating magic lights suspended from the ceiling, windows taller than I was. Everywhere I went, servants hastily bowed and didn't look at me in the eye.

That was what people said about the old Sunoo. That he was cold. Arrogant. Bitter.

And perhaps he was.

If your entire family despised you, you'd lose the smile too.

I looked out into the garden through one window. There she was—Sooha. My sweet "twin sister," all sun and sweetness. Her blond ringlets reflected the light like she'd eaten the sun.

She was giggling with a knight.

Most likely depicting me in between snorts of laughter.

I scrunched up my face. "Gross. Main character vibes."

A part of me just wanted to go out there and inform her that I knew. That I had seen the reality behind her flawless smile.

But then again. why bother?

I didn't have to interfere.

I simply needed to get through until Chapter 11.

"Ten chapters," I grumbled. "Ten chapters of naps, snacks, and staying away from human contact. I can do that."

My plan served me well for the initial couple of days.

I passed my time, instead, in the manor library. It was silent, dusty, and had a faint scent of parchment and ink. The ideal hideaway for a man soon to be dead.

Too bad, the original sunoo was a genius.

By the fifth day, even the maids were whispering less around me.

I guess a quiet Sunoo was a safe Sunoo.

Good. I liked it that way.

But I dreamed again that night.

The original Sunoo’s memories surfaced, stronger than before.

He was sitting by the lake, shivering, staring at the reflection of the stars. Sooha’s laughter echoed from the mansion.

He looked so small.

So forgotten.

“I wish I could leave,” he had whispered in the memory. “Maybe things would be better if I just… disappeared.”

When I woke up, my eyes stung.

Maybe I wasn’t as detached as I pretended to be.

The following morning, I discovered that there was a letter slipped under my door.

It was sealed with red wax—Mother's seal.

> To Sunoo,

The crown prince is visiting the manor. Come on time and conduct yourself.

—Lady Anera

I groaned. "So much for peaceful living."

I considered ignoring it, but then lazy men had to eat too. And she ran the meals.

So I went.

The crown prince and I had a history—not the friendly one.

In the original tale, Sunoo had always been looked down upon by the prince, referred to as "the ornamental son of a noblewoman" with no actual talent or authority. Sunoo and the prince had only crossed paths once, when at a royal banquet Sunoo had respectfully spilled wine on the prince's magic robe by accident. That small error had cemented his reputation. From there on, the prince ignored him as if he were invisible—or worse, something to be ashamed of for the nobles. And if I recalled properly, their second encounter did not fare any better.

Morning arrived, and it did not arrive quietly.

It arrived with the quick rap of knuckles on wood and the shaking voice of a servant who obviously got the shortest straw.

"L-Lord Sunoo, wake up," the maid stuttered. "Lady Anera ordered you to be up at dawn."

I moaned into my pillow. "Inform Lady Anera that her son unfortunately passed away in his sleep."

A hesitation. Then, tentatively, "Sir… should I put that down?"

I huffed. "No, but bless your enthusiasm."

The knocking only ceased for a moment. Another maid came in—head lowered, eyes on the ground, as if even glancing at me would curse her.

They always gazed at me that way.

As if I was some bad luck that had crawled into a noble mansion and wouldn't depart.

"Fine," I growled, kicking off the blankets. "Take me to my royal execution."

The maids hurried ahead of me, leading me to the next bath chamber. Steam rose from the marble tub, subtly glinting with runes that warmed the water. White petals had been strewn across the top—Sooha's notion of "assisting."

I sat on the edge of the tub and looked into the water. My reflection met mine back—a pale complexion, smooth features, subtle shadows under the eyes that never dissipated no matter how many hours I slept.

This was Sunoo's face. A face everyone loved to overlook.

The servants didn't talk while I bathed. They moved mechanically, working efficiently. When I requested a towel, one just handed it over with her eyes still cast down, as if I wasn't there.

It used to hurt—the coldness, the shunning.

Now, it was just white noise.

I dried myself off slowly, savoring the quiet until—

"Sunoo!"

That honey voice slipped through the door before I caught sight of her.

I didn't turn. "Good morning, Sooha."

She swept in, a vision in pale gold silk and honed perfection. Her smile was the sort people wrote ballads about—soft, radiant, and empty if you knew where to look.

"Mother requested me to bring you your attire for today," she said with a bright smile, holding up a neatly folded ensemble. Red, edged with gold thread.

My smile wasn't quite reaching my eyes. "Red?"

"Yes!" she replied, all smiles. "Mother believed it would make you look… stronger. More confident."

More like a target, I thought.

Red—the color that would annoy the crown prince the moment he laid eyes on it. And since Sooha never failed to notice a single social nuance, I knew this couldn't be an accident.

Regardless, though, I didn't give it away. I just nodded graciously. "I see. Tell Mother I'll wear it."

She looked taken aback by how readily I agreed. "You will?"

"Of course." I accepted the clothes she had folded. "I'd never disobey Mother."

Her gaze lingered on my face, looking for something. Perhaps defiance, perhaps fear. But all she saw was peace.

"Good," she said at last, smiling once more. "I'll have the servants bring you when you're ready."

"Of course," I repeated, voice as slick as glass.

When she departed, air breathed out with me.

I gazed at the red dress for a long while. It was lovely—luxurious material, embossed designs in the pattern of phoenix wings. The sort of attire designed to attract notice.

Notice I did not want.

But I was not about to attack her. Not in the open.

That would involve me in being the bad guy once more.

Instead, I smiled inwardly and swung open the wardrobe.

A burst of color had caught my attention from behind—dark violet, with silver threads. A tunic that glowed under the light, quiet and royal without proclaiming it.

Ideal.

I had taken a step towards it when I heard a click behind me.

The sound of a lock clicking.

I stood still, then glanced over my shoulder. The door had been locked from the outside.

"Oh," I whispered, a smile playing at my lips. "You don't trust me at all, do you, Sooha?"

There was a humming vibration in my fingertips. The air itself seemed charged, thick with pent-up power. I could feel the magic that had been spun into the lock—a small charm, one that would bind a normal person in place.

I was not normal.

I held up one hand, drawing a pale circle in the air. A violet glow radiated from my fingers to the lock.

Click.

The spell dissolved as softly as paper ripping.

I grinned. "Magic—1. Family drama—0."

I pulled on the violet tunic, tugging at the silver clasp, and nodded briefly at my reflection. The boy in the mirror no longer looked pathetic. He looked like someone who possessed a secret.

And perhaps that was sufficient.

I arrived in the great hall while the household was already assembled. Nobles whispered among themselves, servants scurried back and forth, and Sooha in the middle—dazzling, as ever.

Her smile wavered upon seeing me.

"Sunoo," she greeted, voice tinged with friendly surprise which didn't quite come through to her eyes. "You're… early."

"I make an effort to be," I replied tactfully.

Her gaze flicked to my clothes. “Where’s the outfit I brought you?”

“Oh,” I said casually, as if remembering something trivial. “It tore.”

She blinked. “It… what?”

“Ripped right through when I tried to open the door,” I said, tone perfectly calm. “Terrible luck, isn’t it?”

Her lips parted, just slightly. “How… unfortunate.”

“Very,” I agreed, smiling faintly. “Luckily, I found another one.”

Her gaze hardened for a heartbeat before her mask returned. “Well,” she said softly, “I suppose that will do.”

The nobles nearby didn’t bother to greet me. Most of them only glanced my way, whispered behind fans, or simply turned away as if I’d brought a bad omen with me.

I caught snippets of conversation—

“…the useless son…”

“…still allowed to attend?”

“…Lady Anera must pity him.”

It hould have hurt.

But it didn’t. Not anymore.

Let them speak. They'd already put me in the ground once in their heads; I didn't have anything left to lose.

Sooha, on the other hand, flitted from guest to guest, a picture of elegance. She praised their clothes, chuckled at their jokes, and occasionally darted a look in my direction—flickering, hot, appraising.

She was looking for me to cringe. To behave timidly. To provide her with something she could manipulate.

But I just stood silently beside the marble pillar, hands clasped, shoulders relaxed.

Not hiding—merely being.

That seemed to disturb her more than anything.

When Mother arrived at last, the atmosphere changed. Lady Anera came with the gravity of one accustomed to being obeyed—tall, poised, eyes as icy as the glass chandeliers above.

Her eyes scanned the room, stopping when they landed on me.

"Sunoo," she said, voice chilly. "You're dressed."

I bowed a little. "As you wished, Mother."

"Good," she said. "Avoid drawing attention."

"I will do my best," I said with a faint smile.

She nodded, then passed by me in silence.

Sooha trailed behind her with an excellent daughter's smile, bright and carefree.

But I noticed it—briefly—the flash of annoyance behind her eyes.

The day crawled along in a haze of preparation, whispered orders, and waiting that seemed to have no end. I worked my part in silence, only answering when addressed, moving with careful steps.

And still. people saw.

Not admiration—never admiration. But puzzlement. Wonder. The sort of glances that pronounced, Something's different.

Sooha saw it too. She didn't approve of it.

By late morning, she came over to me once more, her voice low but with an edge. "You must stay towards the back when the prince comes," she said. "Mother wishes the introductions to be. efficient."

"Sure," I replied nonchalantly. "I'll keep out of the way."

Her eyes scanned mine once more, as if she couldn't quite make me out. "You're… composed today."

"Am I?" I replied. "Perhaps I learned my position at last."

She smiled weakly, not sure if she'd detected sarcasm. "If only you'd learned sooner."

I said nothing.

Instead, I allowed the silence to drag on—long enough to make her fidget before I apologized and left.

With each step away, I caught a whiff of the faint scent of lavender that lingered behind her—the same scent that followed Sooha everywhere she went.

I looked once over my shoulder. She was still there, smiling at the guests, but her hand was closing hard around the fan in her hand until its slender ribs groaned.

The mask was slipping.

And that made me smile—quietly, privately, where no one could witness it.

They could all despise me. Disregard me.

It didn't matter.

Because I wasn't playing according to their script any longer.

The laughter inside the banquet hall arose in waves — shallow, glittering, and hollow.

It clinked against silver goblets and bounced from chandeliers laden with enchanted light.

Lady Anera sat at the head of the long black table, flanked by crested banners displaying the Valen emblem — a snake curled around a star. Her hair was pulled back, lined with gold sigils that glowed softly, as if the magic inside her would not let her rest even to talk.

All the nobles in this room owed her something — money, information, or reputation.

Some even owed her their titles.

House Valen was not founded upon bloodline; it was founded upon brains and brutality. Amidst a realm dominated by mages, Anera had made her talent for rune-making into an empire. Her sigils fueled cities, her wards guarded royal residences, and her students overflowed the Imperial Academy.

To oppose her was to risk one's reputation.

Which made her sole son's presence… problematic.

The nobles respected her genius and sympathized with her failing — that weak, silent child who bore her lineage but not her mind.

Sunoo — that Sunoo — had been the perpetual rumor behind all her praises.

"Just think what Lady Anera could have accomplished if she had a more talented heir."

"Maybe the boy inherits his father's blood."

The manhwa hadn't wasted much time on his history. Sunoo'd been nothing more than an accessory to the heroine's suffering — a name, a death, a footnote. But the memories that haunted my nightmares had a truer picture: he'd been born wrong in the right house.

Tonight, he was supposed to sit quietly and be pretty while the allies of his mother discussed politics he'd never be trusted with.

"Lord Sunoo," a whispered someone from two seats away. "You've gone quiet again. Thinking hard?"

I smiled weakly, meeting his eyes. "It's a family tendency."

Some tentative laughter followed — anxious, polite, not quite sure I was joking.

Lady Anera did not even glance in my direction. Her voice flowed across the table like silk over glass. "He's always had a serious streak," she said. "That is, when he isn't holed up in the library."

The laughter that came after was not so polite.

I allowed it to flow over me, the way that actual Sunoo must have. But where he would've cowered beneath it, I merely leaned back a little, observing the shadow of candlelight that danced upon their jeweled collars.

They did not notice it, naturally — the tiny curve of amusement at the edge of my smile.

If they were looking for humiliation, they would be waiting a very long time.

Sooha, shining as always, placed a gentle hand on our mother's arm. "Don't tease him too much, Mother. You know he's shy."

There it was — the soft venom of her voice.

She always sounded tender, protective, perfect.

Her compassion was a cage, gold-plated and unescapable.

Anera shot her daughter a look of loving exasperation. "You're too tender, Sooha. The boy needs to learn to hold his own among his peers."

Peers.

A kind term for individuals who would be more than happy to step over his dead body in order to rise further.

The conversation shifted to the academy — or rather, the Imperial Arcane Institute.

A shining spire of honor, where the aristocratic young trained to master their talents and refine their names. The manhwa had labeled it "the heart of power."

For Sunoo, it had been a humiliation in the making.

He'd never been. His mother hadn't thought he was worthy of speaking on their house's behalf there.

At least, not yet.

Lady Anera's spoon had a soft clink on her goblet. The ringing caught the room's attention like a charm. She sat up a little, and her presence commanded without so much as a single flicker of visible magic.

"I have an announcement," she declared. "My son will be attending the Imperial Academy next week."

The room fell completely silent.

My first thought was that I’d misheard her.

Even Sooha’s practiced smile faltered for half a second.

Then, the whispers began.

“Lord Sunoo? The Academy?”

“But hasn’t he—”

“Is he prepared for—”

I caught the flicker of triumph in Anera’s eyes — not pride, but challenge. This wasn’t an opportunity. It was a test.

She didn’t want him to succeed.

She wanted him to fail in public — to quash all the rumors that her mercy had weakened her.

Just close enough to me, Sooha leaned in so that the scent of her perfume caressed the air — jasmine and powdered honey. Her voice as syrupy as honey.

"Oh, that's great news, Mother. I'm positive Sunoo will make you proud."

Her eyes slid to me like the tip of a blade. "Won't you?"

I cocked my head to one side, faking a thoughtful expression.

"I'll do my best, I'm sure," I replied flippantly.

Her attention was already back on her classmates, talking through the details of enrollment, her tone crisp and confident.

I couldn't help but wonder what the actual Sunoo would have done in this situation.

Flailed, I imagine. Perhaps attempted to protest, plead for a little more time, a little more faith.

But I wasn't him.

And if she wanted an act, I could perform.

"I'm privileged, Mother," I replied, with just enough conviction to sound convincing. "The Academy can have a student who'll meet your standards."

That brought a flicker of confusion from some nobles.

They weren't accustomed to Sunoo speaking, period, much less without shaking.

Anera merely nodded, face impassive. "Don't bring shame to this household."

Of course," I replied, lowering my head slightly. "I wouldn't want to destroy your reputation by being wrong."

The silence that ensued was thick and heavy with discomfort.

And then the laughter — uneasy, hesitant, and quickly stifled.

Anera's stare sliced into me like a knife. For an instant, I believed she would actually slap me. But she merely smiled. A tight, controlled smile.

The nobles sighed. Sooha's nails pressed lightly into her palm, but her face remained sweet.

Inside, I felt only a still, distant amusement.

The true Sunoo had haunted this table for years. Perhaps it was time to haunt them in return.

The conversation continued, stumbling at first but then going again — nobles not pretending to ignore the tension that hung in the air like heat.

I sat immobile, zoning out their conversation. My thoughts wandered — to actual Sunoo's recollections of this room, of laughter that had previously hurt, of aspirations which had never been his.

Somewhere deep within me, a silent voice tugged at me and murmured that perhaps this wasn't his world anymore.

Perhaps, in some bizarre manner, it was mine as well.

But I pushed it aside.

Because acknowledging that would imply he was truly gone for life.

I wasn't prepared for that.

And then — the noise that shattered the night like a shattering in glass.

A servant dashed through the doors, panting and pale. He bowed so deeply his forehead almost touched the marble.

"My lady," he panted, "the Crown Prince has come."

The hall was silent.

Lady Anera stood up with a movement of ease, every step intentional, authoritative.

"Then let us not keep His Highness waiting," she said.

Sooha's mouth twisted into her ideal, sunny smile.

And way in the background of my mind, I sensed the beginnings of a shiver.

Because if I remembered correctly, this — here — was the start of the end of the story for Sunoo.

Chapter Text

Sunoo's POV

The clatter of hurried boots echoed even before the doors opened.

And then—silence.

I glanced up. All the nobles in the great hall stiffened, heads bowing nervously in unison.

Perfect. Predictable.

He was a young man in ceremonial white, edged with gold and steel. His every movement bore the crisp authority of the Empire itself. His dark hair swept to his collar, and the sigil of the royal family shone dimly in the candlelight.

Crown Prince Lee Heeseung.

Behind him was another boy—a bit younger, with brown hair and pale silver eyes that didn't occur in this kingdom at all. No crest adorned his uniform, only a silver pin in the shape of a crane. He walked like a man used to observing more than he was used to speaking.

The hall curved at once. All of the nobles dipped their heads.

Even the chandeliers blanched.

Sooha was already at the center, shining as bright as ever. Her golden hair reflected the chandelier's light like sunlight encased in honey. Her smile came so naturally, was so practiced—but the spark in her eyes gave away tension as she looked towards Heeseung and the foreign prince standing behind him.

"Your Highness," she said with a smooth tone, her voice like fine glass. "The Valen estate is privileged to welcome you.

Lady Anera smiled as Heeseung's face softened and he turned away from her. "I am pleased to deliver greetings from His Majesty the King," he said. "And his praises for your continued loyalty to the Empire."

Lady Anera nodded. "His Majesty's favor is my highest dignity.

And this," said Heeseung, "is the second prince of the Eastern Dominion. He inquired about the runes and charms protecting the estate. If it is not inconvenient, we wish to remain until we leave for the academy. I might also accompany Lady Sooha."

Prince Riki bowed soon after, aping Heeseung's action.

Lady Anera answered graciously, "Of course, Your Highness. Sooha would be honored—but I'll have to trouble you too. My son Sunoo will also be joining the academy this year."

Heeseung's eyes scanned the hall—and came to rest on me.

He looked… surprised.

I bowed. Lightly. Politely.

The real Sunoo would have floundered—paralyzed under that attention, not knowing where to put her feet or how to catch her breath.

But I stood there, unmoving, solid. I am not Sunoo.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Sooha slid nearer to the princes, her charm slipping into place like a mask. "You are Prince Riki," she said with a smile. "I do hope your travel was pleasant."

"It was," Riki said, his accent curling over imperial words. "And your mansion—it is… grand."

I remained impassive, but I was secretly entertained. Sooha hoped to awe him, but his gaze rested on the runes rather.

I would like to see her scramble behind that flawless smile.

In the original tale, Riki was the last to stumble.

They didn't bond until towards the end of the academy—after he'd learned the language correctly.

The minor nobles started to filter out, bowing their goodbyes. Eventually, we were the only ones left.

Lady Anera, as ever, was calm to perfection.

My son," she told me sternly but quietly, "you will take Prince Riki on a tour of the estate. Describe the grounds in great detail. Respond to all of his questions accurately."

I nodded. "As you command, Mother."

My voice was level, revealing none of the internal amusement uncurling in my gut.

Accuracy, all right. Let's see how inquisitive the prince really is.

She turned to Heeseung and Sooha. "And as for you two," she went on, "you may go ahead of me to the parlour. Your trunks will be brought in a moment, and we can proceed with our introductions there."

Sooha's flawless smile flickered—happily a fraction of an instant—when she noticed I'd been selected over her. I saw it, and I loved it.

She must have asked herself why.

Easy. Mother disapproved of Prince Riki—foreign lineage, second son, not the successor.

Riki nodded to me with a slight inclination of his head, eyes shining bright with interest. I returned the bow. He was wary, watchful… and blissfully clueless about the tension in the air.

I'd get plenty of use out of that.

Heeseung, on the other hand, hesitated. His gaze snapped back to me, keen and measuring.

The actual Sunoo would've crumpled under that gaze.

I kept my bow only long enough to demonstrate respect and not give in.

"Shall we start?" I said lightly, sweeping towards the doors. Calm. Collected. All things Sunoo had never quite been.

Heeseung's voice halted me just as I crossed the threshold.

"I will join the tour," he announced.

Neutral—though with the slightest hint of insistence. He didn't believe I could handle Riki on my own.

My mother scowled, taken aback. Sooha's eyes slanted, a fissure in her equanimity.

"Then I too will join you," she said graciously, stepping forward.

Heeseung smiled, a pale but sharp smile.

"No need, Sooha. Your gown is heavy. You need to rest."

And then, turning to me: "He doesn't have anything better to do, anyway."

I didn't even attempt to hide my laughter. The annoyance that flashed across both my mother's and Sooha's faces was enough reward.

The halls of the Valen estate were huge and bleakly grand. I proceeded in advance through marble corridors inlaid with shimmering runes and beside towering windows that threw pale sunlight across the floor. Heeseung accompanied Riki, describing the charms as I played silent ornament.

Riki listened carefully, questioning in imperfect Imperial speech. Heeseung responded where possible.

When we arrived in the courtyard, sunlight flowed over marble fountains and jeweled statues.

Riki gestured toward the gems held in the statues' hands.

He said something in his own language.

To my astonishment, Heeseung replied in fluid Ophelian.

"Likely just for decoration," he said. "I've never known them to be used."

He was mistaken.

Riki reminded me of myself—and, I had to confess, looked infuriatingly handsome in the sunlight.

I resolved to talk.

If I might, Your Highnesses," I replied calmly, "those are mermaid pearls. All together, they create an invisible shield around the estate. It keeps intruders from practicing magic inside the grounds."

The two princes regarded me, surprised.

"You understand Ophelian?" Heeseung asked.

I put my hands behind my back and moved closer to the fountain. "Yes, Your Highness."

Riki's silver eyes flashed with instant enthusiasm. "Can it really do that? Ward against magic?

I nodded. "Right. The placement of the statues isn't accidental. Any offensive magic thrown within the barrier is dissipated harmlessly—and the estate is notified immediately."

Riki's smile was contagious. Heeseung, on the other hand, appeared. disturbed. Impressed, yes, but not about to admit it.

"That's impressive," he said at last. "I didn't know you had such information."

Riki blinked, missing the subtext, as we were still communicating in Ophelian.

I let a hint of a smile. "Someone who's spent long enough learning the estate would know," I explained, glancing over at Heeseung. Curiosity. Skepticism. Perhaps even respect. I'd take it.

"You speak Ophelian flawlessly," Riki said, his accent musical. "How many years have you practiced?"

"Since I was ten," I explained. "My grandmother was from the Dominion, and my father used to speak it all the time. After he died… it made me feel more connected to him."

The actual Sunoo had lain hidden in the library for years, learning whatever would make him useful—or invisible.

Riki's expression relaxed. Heeseung's remained keen.

"The arrangement of the statues," I went on, "forms a lattice. Any uninvited person who enters sets off an alert. Guards receive warning immediately."

Riki grinned, following his finger above a pearl. "It's marvelous. My kingdom does not have magic like this."

I nodded my head. Within, I was quietly content.

Sunoo would have tripped, striving for validation.

We progressed to the gardens, where subtle wards glimmered through the hedges.

"These spells respond to outside magic," I said. "A warning mechanism, really."

Heeseung's jaw clenched ever so faintly.

I smiled. Let him gauge me.

Along the pebbled path, glowing stones throbbed softly.

"They're decorative—and practical," I said. "They manipulate perception if an intruder arrives uninvited. Enough confusion to provide time."

Riki leaned in, intrigued. "That's wonderful."

The library came next—huge, infinite shelves climbing up to the ceiling.

"These books," I told him, "are on everything. Few have ever been allowed to study them. They are books on elemental manipulation,Many are hands-on, some theoretic. The family has maintained these collections for centuries, but few have been allowed to study them extensively."

Riki's eyes went wide. "You've read them?"

I smiled weakly. "I've read the estate and its history in depth, It's a hobby."

Heeseung folded his arms. "You're much more capable than I imagined," he said deliberately. "I had. less expectations."

"Expectations are usually wrong, Your Highness," I said.

Riki smiled innocently, not realizing the tension between us. "I think you're incredible," he said matter-of-factly.

Heeseung went icy. Changing back to Imperial, he said,

"I recall you being worse than that. Sooha complained to me about how you treated her. Riki is different—he's been sheltered his whole life. Hurt him—"

Riki blinked, taken aback by the shift in tone.

A servant then appeared, bowing low. "The rooms are ready, Your Highnesses."

I stood tall. "Then I will take my leave."

And without waiting for permission, I turned and strode off.

No looking back. No pause.

I'd nearly forgotten—

I was here to die.

I can't even afford to get attached.

NI-KI s POV

The instant we were alone at the Valen estate, I could feel the pressure of the house bearing down on me—the opulence, the quiet thrum of power humming beneath the marble floors and runes. The whole place felt alive, but there was one presence that attracted me.

The boy—Sunoo, if I recall—glided by with an indifference that I had never witnessed from anyone else. Not Heeseung, not even my own instructors, nor even the nobles who had bowed to us previously. Each step, each motion was calculated, controlled, almost as if an perfected performance.

He went first, quiet but watchful, scanning me with his eyes as if taking my responses. I bowed once at our first passing but he only nodded once, clasping his hands behind his back. It was not a bow of subservience or obeisance—it was calculation.

The corridors were expansive, sculpted with arches and lined with radiant runes. Marble floors echoed the sunbeams pouring in through the high windows, and the tapestries told the history of the family. I wished I could absorb it all, but I couldn't take my eyes from him.

Heeseung kept pace alongside me as he told me of the runes and charms. As we came into the courtyard, sunlight poured over the fountains and statues. My gaze landed on the jewels nestled in the statues' arms.

"These jewels in statues' arms, what are they?" I asked in my native language, gesturing to one.

Heeseung replied in Ophelian, "Most likely decorations, never seen them before," he explained.

I scowled. That wasn't correct.

Sunoo took a step forward, and his soothing, flat voice replied. "If I might, Your Highnesses, these are mermaid's pearls. The statues are arranged in such a manner that these pearls collectively form an invisible sphere about the estate. It does not allow anyone unfamiliar to perform magic within."

Heeseung blinked hard, obviously taken aback.

"You know Ophelian?" Heeseung questioned him, a slight narrowing of his eyes.

Sunoo nodded, face still neutral. "Yes, Your Highness."

My silver eyes went wide with wonder. I leaned forward, my finger jabbing at one of the pearls set into the statue's palm. "Can it actually do that? Ward against magic?"

"Indeed," he said. "The placement isn't accidental. If an attacker attempted to cast hostile magic within the sphere, the spells diffuse the energy harmlessly into the atmosphere. It also signals the estate to the intruders' presence."

I couldn't help but smile. The boy next to me was amazing. Heeseung, on the other hand, looked torn—curiosity and doubt fighting in his face.

"You're speaking Ophelian fluently," I said, still gesturing to the pearls. "How many years have you learned it?"

"Since I was ten," he replied matter-of-factly. "My grandfather on my father's side was from the Dominion. And my dad knew the language. When my dad… it just made me feel more connected to him. So I made an effort to be proficient." I nodded, impressed. He was a bit like me—someone competent and unobtrusive, taking it all in, analyzing details that most people skipped.

As we approached the gardens, he motioned for me to inspect wards along the hedges. "These wards are discreet," he said. "But they respond to magic beyond the estate. You might almost say it's a. warning system.

I leaned in closer, curiosity getting the best of me, and Sunoo didn't stop me. He just observed, hands behind his back, face neutral—but I could sense the hint of amusement curling in his chest.

He led me along a curving path lined with softly glowing stones. "These stones," he explained, "are both decorative and functional. They augment the magical energy of the wards in the garden. Anyone who tries to cheat through the maze without us will activate subtle spells to… slow them down."

I cocked my head. "Slow them down? How?

The stones vibrate with small spatial magic," he said nonchalantly, his voice casual. "They produce a small shift in perception, just enough to disorient strangers without injury. It's designed to give the estate guards time." 

I smiled, pushing closer to examine a tiny fountain in the form of a dragon wrapped about a pearl. "It's amazing," I breathed. "I've never seen magic like this before.

The great library came next. Shelves went on impossibly far. Sunoo guided me forward, pointing to a couple of books that held practical magical theory.

"These are treatises on controlling the elements," he explained. "Most are practical, some theoretical. The family has maintained these collections for generations, though few have been allowed to study them in depth."

"You know all of these?" I asked, silver eyes shining.

"I've learned the estate and its history all in-depth," he replied. "It's… a hobby."

Heeseung folded his arms, regarding him with that unshakeable stare. "You know… you're much more capable than I anticipated," he spoke after a moment. "I thought… less."

Sunoo gave a slight, courteous smile. "Assumptions are frequently incorrect, Your Highness."

I couldn't help grinning myself, although I didn't exactly catch Heeseung's tone. "I think you're great," I whispered, running my fingers over the door of the library.

Heeseung's voice came back, crisp now in Imperial. "I …you being… Sooha has explained to me how you have …her. Riki is …. safeguarded …. his life. If you …. him—"

I blinked, taken aback by the sudden tension. Not knowing what he meant.

A servant came up at that moment. "Your rooms are ready, Your Highnesses."

Sunoo nodded. "I shall take my leave then."

And he went away, not waiting for any more recognition, calm, serene, unapproachable. I would have followed, but I restrained myself.

I understood, softly, that I no longer wanted to discover this estate any further—I wanted to know him.

"What did you say to him?" I asked heeseung as we strolled.

"Leave him alone," he answered.

"But why? He was being nice enough."

"Ni-ki, he used to bully his sister and I don't think people change that easily."

Although I nodded, I wasn't going to take it for granted. I was more skeptical of this sooha, she treated sunoo like nothing and was sort of phony.

Sunoo's POV

The door clicked closed behind me, and the room fell into silent isolation. Alone at last. The shining stone walls, the distant runes shimmering on the corners, even the thick drapes that bounded the window, all seemed to work together to make a sanctuary. Or a place to think.

By myself, I find my mind drifting to the original Sunoo. That shy boy who had worn red, flustered and tiny, unseen under the notice of all the nobles and the glory of Sooha. He had worried when the princes came, lost on where to stand, how to breathe, how to be anything other than the quiet accessory to everyone else's spectacle.

I settled into the armchair by the window, gazing out at the sprawling estate. Sunoo had spent years with his nose buried in books, attempting to be useful or inconspicuous.

The male leads gradually fell for Sooha. Sunoo never properly met the others. The Crown Prince, the second prince, the prince of the northern ice kingdom, the son of the foreign envoy, the duke's son, and the son of the wealthy merchant.

All of them, I believed, my bits and pieces of inherited story- might turn the game around.

I stood up from the armchair and moved quietly to the window, allowing the sun to brighten the room. Out below, the grounds of the estate lay out.

The original Sunoo would have freaked out. I wouldn't. I would expect, adjust, and play the charade until I died. And for the actual sunoo I would do my best to hurt or get on sooha's nerves as much as possible. Maybe reveal her true face before she  has me killed.

I slumped back in the chair, the small smile at my lips concealed from the world.

If I had glanced in the mirror I would have noticed someone else gazing back at me, with a slight smile on his lips.

Chapter Text

The dream began so quietly that Sunoo didn’t realize he was dreaming at all.

At first, it was just darkness—soft, velvety, the kind that feels heavy instead of empty. Then came the faint echo of footsteps, slow and deliberate, followed by the creak of a door.

He tried to move, but his body didn’t respond. His hands were his, but smaller, softer. His breath came quickly, frightened.

The faint glimmer of light seeped through a narrow slit in the wooden door. Dust floated in the air like tiny ghosts. The room was small, so small that the shadows clung to the corners. And then—he heard it.

A child’s voice. His own voice.

“Please,” the little Sunoo whispered. “I’ll be quiet. I won’t make trouble. Just—let me go to him.”

No one answered.

He pressed his hands against the door, little fingers leaving smudges in the dark. From beyond, faint voices murmured—Sooha’s soft, melodic tone, her father’s deep baritone replying in calm, calculated words. The muffled thud of boots. The scrape of metal.

And then silence.

The child trembled. He pounded the door, but the wood didn’t budge. “Please! I want to see him! He’s my father! Please!” His voice broke into sobs that sounded too real, too close.

Sunoo—the one who watched—tried to move, to reach for the boy, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t in the room; he was the room. He was trapped within it, his heart beating in time with the child’s panic.

He wanted to scream, Stop! Open the door! He’s just a child! But his voice wouldn’t come.

The light outside dimmed to gray. Hours passed in the dream as the little boy curled up in a corner, tears drying on his cheeks, tiny hiccups echoing in the silence. When he finally fell asleep, it was out of exhaustion, not comfort.

Then—the vision shifted.

Through the slit of light, Sunoo could see faint shapes moving. A procession. The glint of black cloth. The heavy toll of bells. A casket being carried through the courtyard, surrounded by nobles dressed in silver mourning.

Sooha was there, her head bowed gracefully, her expression perfect. Too perfect.

The boy behind the door never saw it. He just stared at the streak of light that grew thinner and thinner until it vanished completely.

And that’s when Sunoo—watching helplessly from within the nightmare—realized what it felt like to die without dying. To be locked away from your own grief.

The child whispered one last time, barely audible. “I’ll be good now… please…”

The dream collapsed into darkness.

I woke up gasping.

Not the elegant, tragic kind of gasp people do in plays — but the real kind. The kind where your throat feels like it’s full of dust, and your chest can’t decide if it wants to breathe or break.

For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. It hadn’t felt like a dream.

It felt like a memory.

The echo of small fists on wood still rang in my head. The way the air had tasted in that locked room — stale and desperate. I could still hear that child’s voice, my voice, begging to be let out. Begging to see a father he’d never get to say goodbye to.

And Sooha’s voice outside the door, smooth and detached.

The realization came slowly, like dawn creeping through a crack in the curtains. That wasn’t some story fragment. That had happened.

To the original Sunoo. They had said he did not want to attend.

I pressed my hands to my face. For a second, I almost laughed — the bitter kind that sounds like it’s made of glass. “He was just a child,” I whispered. “And she—”

No, not “she.”

Sooha.

I said her name like it was a curse.

Something hot and ugly coiled in my chest — not grief anymore, but something sharper. Rage, clean and cold enough to feel holy.

So that’s what it felt like, then. To die without dying.

I lay there for a long time, staring at the canopy, my breath coming slow. That is what he had gone through.Just the raw, shaking thought that someone like her had walked away from that scene unscathed. That people loved her, worshipped her, adored her… while that boy was forgotten behind a door.

The world didn’t deserve to let her keep her perfect smile.

“Fine,” I muttered, pushing the blankets aside. “If she gets to play saint, then I’ll play something else.”

Revenge? Maybe. Justice? Probably not. But truth — that, I could manage.

I'll tear her face in front of the whole world. Set fire to the stage she created for everyone.

I need to make plans. I’ll die in 2 weeks. 

I already imagined the scene too many times, but this time instead of staying quiet, I'll speak, I'll prove my innocence and then I will start my revenge.

I will need allies, ni-ki and 2 or 3 or the other male leads seem like a good option. But most importantly I needed money and fast.

The sun had started shining after 2 hours or so and I finally had an idea.

I had plenty of money. My inheritance could buy half the southern coast if I really wanted to. But court money is visible. It leaves trails, curious glances, questions like “where did that come from?” and “why is he suddenly interested in trade?”

I needed invisible money. The kind that moves without trace.

And lucky for me, Kim Sunoo was a little genius. Wait.

A little pretty genius.

We’re not just noble; we’re Runeblood — people who can bend spell and rune in the same breath. Not many can. Runes are old, rigid things, like carved promises. Spells are living things, all rhythm and intent. Mixing them is like asking a thunderstorm to follow the rules of geometry — stupid for most, satisfying for us.

Most in our family pick one. My mother picked both but preferred runes and sooha leaned towards spells. But not sunoo, he practiced both with equal levels of mastery.

So I’d make spelled stones — the kind people pay through the nose for. Protection charms, luck binders, spell locks. Pretty pebbles that hum quietly with ancient power. No one asks who makes them if they work.

First I went into the garden, almost nobody was up, I picked up a few pretty pebbles hoping that nobody saw me.

I called the maid just before breakfast, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders like a fragile prince should. “I don’t feel well,” I told her, voice low and pitiful. “I left the window open.”

“Oh, little master, shall I call the physician?”

“Unnecessary,” I said, coughing delicately for effect. “Just rest. And please — no one disturb me today.”

She bowed, muttering something about herbal tonics, and scurried off.

The second the door clicked shut, I threw the blanket onto the bed and yanked open the trunk under the window seat. Inside were things Sunoo wasn’t supposed to own — things he’d collected before I ever came. Rune-chalk. Powdered moonstone. A string of silver-thread hair? and the most random shit.

Magic hums when it knows it’s being used. The air in the room shivered as I started to draw.Circles. Sigils. Words that glow for a moment and then sink into the stone like ink into water. Each rune needed balance: a loop for protection, a cross for memory, a spiral for containment. Then the spell layered on top. It would teleport me to the market and back before 6 hours.

By noon, my fingers were smudged black and six stones sat cooling in front of me — warm, faintly humming, almost alive.

“Not bad,” I muttered. “For the family’s black sheep.”

The rest was disguise. Darken my hair, changed the eyes and the nose,A coarse wool coat that smelled faintly of river mud. I tucked the stones into a pouch at my waist and looked into the mirror.

What looked back wasn’t Sunoo,it looked like a street vendor.

I whispered and the runes activated. The air folded inward, then cracked open with a soft snap.

And suddenly — the estate was gone.

The town hit me all at once: scent of rain, spice smoke, iron, sweat. Stalls lined the cobblestone streets, filled with more color than the palace had seen in years. People shouted in three languages, and somewhere nearby, someone was playing a flute badly but enthusiastically.

I kept my head down and walked until the streets turned clean and the stalls turned into carved stone storefronts. This was where the money lived.

Finally, I found it — the Merrin & Park Emporium, one of the oldest merchant houses in the capital. I’d heard stories about them — they sold everything from enchanted tea to bottled lightning, and they had the arrogance to match.

Perfect.

Inside, the air was cool and smelled faintly of sandalwood and coins. The manager looked up from his ledger, eyes running over me once, immediately unimpressed.

“Can I help you?” he asked, in that tone reserved for people who clearly couldn’t afford help.

“Yes,” I said, keeping my voice low, polite. “I’m looking to sell.”

That earned a blink. “Sell?” He glanced at my coat, at the faint rune dust under my fingernails. “We don’t buy trinkets from… street casters.”

I smiled, sharp and small. “And what if those ‘trinkets’ are spelled stones?”

He froze. “Spelled stones?”

“Six.” I said casually, pulling one from my pouch. “Protection runes, with dual incantation. Simple, but effective. Strong enough to ward a merchant’s chest or a carriage route. And unlike most, they won’t burn out in a week.”

He stared at the stone as if it might explode. “You’re lying.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But if I am, you’ll have wasted five minutes. If I’m not…” I let the pause stretch, smiling faintly. “You’ll have something to sell for ten times what you paid me.”

He hesitated — greed always wins over pride — then gestured for me to follow. “This way.”

He led me through a corridor lined with glass cases, each filled with glittering things: bottled starlight, enchanted ink that shimmered between languages, spell scrolls so old they hummed like bees.

At the end of the hall was a door carved with a merchant’s sigil. He knocked once, opened it, and nodded for me to enter.

The room inside was warm — sunlight spilling through colored glass, books stacked to the ceiling, and behind the desk sat Jay Park.

I knew the name. Everyone did. The heir to the Park trading empire. Intelligent, dangerously charming, rumored to be the kind of man who could buy your future with your own money. And of course, the third male lead.

He looked up, eyes dark and curious. “You brought me a guest, Min?”

The manager bowed stiffly. “Says he has spelled stones to sell.”

Jay’s lips curved, amused. “Does he, now?” His gaze slid to me. “Well, then. Let’s see them.”

I stepped forward, pulled one from my pouch, and set it on the desk. The stone gleamed faintly — a pale blue pulse under its surface.

He leaned in. “That’s… not a bad deal. Did you make these?”

I shook my head. “No but it is none of your concern who made them, do you want to buy them, is the question here.”

He chuckled softly. “Interesting.”

“You don’t need to know who I am,” I said, tone even. “You only need to know how the stones work.”

He rolled the stone between his fingers, murmuring a brief activation phrase. The rune flared softly, then dimmed. His eyebrows lifted. “Stable. Most burn out by the second ignition.”

“Told you,” I said. “I don’t sell lies.”

Jay looked up, his expression now sharpened with interest. “And how many of these can you make?”

“Right now these are the only ones, but if you are offering the right amount, I will talk to the people who made these.” I said lightly.

That made him laugh — not the mocking kind, but genuine amusement. “You’ve got the nerve,” he said. “And by people you mean multiple people made these.”

I just shrugged in response.

He leaned back in his chair, studying me like he could peel back my disguise with his eyes. “Alright, mystery seller. Let’s talk numbers.”

And just like that, I smiled — a real one, quiet and slow.

Because for the first time since that dream, I wasn’t the helpless boy behind the door.

I was the one opening it.

The air smelled faintly of spice and parchment, of wealth and distance. The merchant house was polished marble and floating lanterns, each light engraved with wealth sigils. I’d never liked these places — they reeked of people who smiled while calculating your worth in coin and bloodline.

The air between us tightened, invisible but electric. Jay tilted his head, eyes narrowing with something like interest. “You’re not like the usual charm vendors.”

“Thank you. I bathe,” I said dryly.

He laughed again, this time not hiding it. “What’s your name?”

“Rin,” I lied smoothly. It was the name etched into my false identification charm. The rune glimmered faintly at my wrist in quiet affirmation.

“Rin,” he repeated, like he was testing how the name felt in his mouth. “You know this house doesn’t buy from unknown sources.”

I smiled thinly. “Then call me exclusive.”

He was enjoying this — the verbal push and pull, the way neither of us was giving ground.

Finally, Jay placed the stone back on the table. “You’re skilled. But we deal in contracts, not compliments.”

He reached for a parchment — thick vellum embossed with the merchant family’s sigil. The quill hovering beside it came to life with a flick of his fingers. “We’ll test one of them and sell the others. If they perform as you claim, we’ll discuss distribution.”

I tilted my head. “Distribution? I wasn’t aware you’d already hired me.”

He gave a lazy smile. “I haven’t. Yet. But if your work is half as good as your attitude, I might consider it.”

The words shouldn’t have carried weight, but they did. Something in the way he said I might — quiet authority mixed with curiosity.

I leaned closer, just enough for the air to shift between us. “You talk like someone who’s used to getting what he wants.”

He didn’t move back. “And you talk like someone who’s never learned when to stop.”

“Maybe that’s why we’re both still standing,” I said softly.

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It hummed.

Finally, Jay pushed the parchment forward. “We’ll formalize this as a provisional contract. 50/ 50 division of the money. If they pass, we’ll sign for long-term collaboration.”

Does this dude think I am a fool? “Even though I did not make them, I know how rare they are. You will not find anything like these. 70/30 share, you deposit it into my specified account in 2 days.”

“You demand too much, don't you think so?”

“If you can't sell these in 2 days it shows your incompetence not mine, and as it happens I have a monopoly over the product so unless you agree to my terms, I can just get up and leave.”

He started laughing loudly.

I glanced over the document. It was standard merchant protocol — clauses for confidentiality, material rights, profit distribution. And yet… one phrase glimmered faintly in runic ink, nearly invisible to the untrained eye.

A truth-binding sigil. Clever. It would alert him if I lied about my production process.

I almost smiled. “You’re afraid I’ll cheat you.”

“I’m afraid you’ll impress me and then disappear,” he said simply.

Too late for that, I thought.

Out loud, I said, "I agree to the terms of this contract and all six stones are capable of everything that I have said.”

“Good,” he said, taking the quill. “Now, blood signature or mana imprint?”

“Blood” I said quickly. Mana is too personal, leaving a trace. Most merchants don't even offer it.

He held the quill out. “After you.”

The nib glowed faintly as I pressed my fingers against it. It drank in my blood, my signature, swirling into the parchment like liquid light. Jay followed, his own blood a deeper red, stable and precise. When our signatures touched, the contract pulsed once — sealing the pact.

He extended his hand. “Welcome to the House of Parks.”

I hesitated. Not because of etiquette — but because the handshake carried power. The contact of two blood channels could betray far more than a name and my finger was still bleeding. Still, I took it.

His palm was warm. His magic, too. Refined, strong, laced with a kind of control that reminded me of royalty — or predators.

Our eyes met. For a second, something flickered behind his gaze — recognition? No, not quite. Suspicion.

“You’ve got a strange current,” he said quietly.

I forced a smile. “I eat a lot of lightning.”

Jay’s lips curved. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were hiding something.”

“If you did know better,” I said, “you’d stop asking.”

He laughed under his breath. “You’re dangerous, Rin.”

“And so are you.”

We stood there for a heartbeat longer, the contract humming faintly on the table between us. Then I stepped back, pulling my hood a little lower. The illusion spell was starting to flicker at the edges again.

Jay nodded. “I’ll have your payment ready in the account you mentioned.”

I turned, the air already thrumming with the soft vibration of the teleportation sigil hidden beneath my cloak. He noticed the way the mana stirred — his eyes narrowing slightly in realization.

“You’re not walking out the front door, are you?”

“Front doors are boring,” I said. “I prefer exiting with style.”

Before he could reply, I lifted my hand and whispered the incantation. The floor sigil bloomed beneath me — pale blue runes spiraling upward, dissolving into light.

The last thing I saw was Jay’s faint, amused smile, half-shadowed by the glow.

Then the world folded in on itself — and I vanished.

The reentry was rougher than usual. I landed in my room again.

For a moment, I just stood there, breathing.

I should’ve felt triumphant. I’d secured a contract with one of the wealthiest merchant houses in the region, set up a way to fund my next steps. But all I could think of was Jay’s gaze. Another hot man out of reach.

He’d seen something. Not who I was, exactly, but enough to make him suspicious.

Good. Let him wonder.

I pressed my hand against my chest, feeling the faint pulse of the contract sigil echo through me. A promise made. Money acquired,

Step one,” I whispered, “done.”

The game had finally begun.

Ni-ki’s POV

The morning was too quiet for me.

That’s probably why I noticed him.

Sunoo.

He was kneeling by the edge of the garden, half-hidden behind the ivy wall, his night robe trailing through the dew. At first, I assumed he’d lost something — But then I saw what he was actually doing.

He was picking up stones.

Small, round ones from the edge of the pond. Turning them over in his hand like they mattered.

I crouched behind the marble railing, watching. Not spying, exactly. Just… watching.

Sunoo was quiet, focused, almost too calm. He’d pause every few seconds, close his eyes, and pick up another stone, rejecting most of them. The sunlight hit his face sideways, and for a moment he didn’t look like the delicate, breakable noble everyone treated like glass. He looked sharper.

“What are you doing, Sunoo…” I murmured to myself.

He gathered the last of the stones and stood. When he turned toward the house, the light caught his eyes for a second — and I froze.

Because that face could destroy nations. I have never seen someone who looked as ethereal as him.

I stayed there long after he’d gone, trying to shake the feeling that something had just changed — something I should probably stop before it got worse. 

Jay’s POV

There are two kinds of people who walk into my office with Min— the rich, or the powerful.

Rin didn’t look like either.

He came in quiet, too composed. His boots barely made a sound on the marble floor; his eyes flicked over the shelves of relics, charms, and wards like he’d seen it all before. The air shifted when he moved — not dramatically, not in the way show-off spellcasters do, but with a kind of subtle gravity that made you straighten your spine without realizing it.

He didn’t belong here, but he acted like he did.

The manager was sweating beside him, wringing his hands like he’d dragged in trouble wrapped in silk. He muttered something about the “client’s persistence,” but I barely heard it. My eyes were already on Rin — the way his expression stayed neutral, unreadable, like he was playing a part he’d memorized perfectly.

Six smooth, pale stones, the size of almonds. Harmless-looking — until one of them pulsed softly, once, twice, like a heartbeat.

The room changed.

I felt it in my teeth first — that faint electric taste of real magic. Not the sloppy kind that street alchemists sell, where half the power leaks into the air before you even use it. This was refined, sealed tight, stable. Controlled to a degree I’d only seen from oldblood artisans — and those didn’t make their craft available to merchants like me.

I picked one up. It was warm, faintly thrumming. I turned it over in my hand, tracing the fine runic etching cut so thin it was almost invisible. Whoever made this didn’t carve with tools; they wove the spell into the grain itself.

We talked.

Now I was intrigued. No one negotiated with me like that. Not the guild-trained spellwrights, not the smug noble collectors. But he didn’t flinch, didn’t shift his tone. He just stood there like he already knew I’d agree.

I studied him in silence for a moment. His clothes were plain but well-kept, his hands ink-stained but clean. His voice carried no accent I could place — not coastal, not capital, not even border. 

The stones on my desk still hummed faintly. He had the kind of sharpness that made conversation feel like a duel — one you wanted to lose just to see what he’d do next.

“Fine,” I said finally, reaching for my ledger. “Seventy–thirty. Name your account.”

When I pushed the paper toward him, he signed with a symbol instead of a name — a single mark that shimmered once before fading into the parchment. The ink didn’t soak; it merged.

I released him slowly. “You’ve got a strange current.”

He smiled, small and knowing. “I eat a lot of lightning.”

The absurdity of it made me huff a quiet laugh, but the hair on my arms didn’t stop rising. There was something about him — something that wasn’t trained or taught, but innate. Magic like that didn’t belong to humans anymore. It belonged to stories.

And then — just as suddenly — he was gone.

No flash, no sound, no scent of burnt ozone that usually comes with teleportation. One heartbeat he was there, the next he wasn’t. The air didn’t even ripple.

The stones on my desk pulsed once, softly, like a goodbye.

I sat back, staring at the faint shimmer where he’d stood. My wards hadn’t reacted. My tracking sigils hadn’t registered a thing. He’d bypassed all of it as if it didn’t exist.

No one could do that.

Not unless they were something else entirely.

I leaned forward again, studying the spelled stones. The hum was steady now, like the rhythm of a heartbeat. When I held one to my ear, I could swear I heard a faint whisper — not words, just a vibration that felt alive.

“Runeblood?” I muttered under my breath. No. Impossible. The bloodlines were there but the ability was extinct. Still, the resonance was too strong, too refined to be ordinary mana-work. He had said it was made by different people, but I couldn't differentiate the magic.

I dropped the stone onto the desk, exhaling slowly.

He’d left me more than merchandise. He’d left a puzzle — and I’ve never been good at leaving puzzles unsolved.

I reached for my pen again and started jotting notes in the margin of the ledger. 

If he could make these in quantity…

I sat back again, fingers drumming lightly. This wasn’t just trade anymore. This was potential. 

I should’ve been cautious. Should’ve been suspicious. But the truth? I was intrigued. Deeply.

And intrigue, for me, has always been more dangerous than greed.

As I extinguished the lantern for the night, the faint hum of the stones lingered in the dark, like a heartbeat syncing with my own. I couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere, out there, Rin — whoever he really was — was already ten steps ahead of me.

And I hated that I couldn’t wait to see him again.

No teleport leaves nothing. Even the high mages leave a ripple, a faint mana signature that my sensors can pick up. But Rin? Not even a ghost trace. It was as if reality had politely opened a door for him and let him step out.

I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my temple. “Well, that’s new.”

The manager peeked through the door like a frightened rabbit. “Sir? Is… is he gone?”

I gestured to the empty air. “You tell me.”

He blinked, hesitated, then nodded furiously and fled.

Smart man.

I stared at the pile of stones left behind — six little things, sitting quietly on a desk that suddenly felt too small to hold them. They didn’t look dangerous. They looked… delicate. Beautiful, even. Smooth river-gray, traced with veins of faint silver, humming like the smallest whisper.

My fingers itched to test them.

I shouldn’t have. Father would’ve said to lock them up, call the guild, run a full sigil analysis. But curiosity has always been my flaw — the kind that doesn’t whisper caution, only try it once.

So I did.

I picked up one of the stones and placed it in the small casting circle I keep behind my desk — a test field, meant for measuring mana stability in newly acquired goods. I powered it with a thin thread of my own energy, no more than a flicker, expecting the stone to flare or break or at least react.

Instead, it breathed.

The stone pulsed once — then expanded. Not physically, but magically — like something inside it recognized me and stretched. The air thickened, scenting faintly of iron and rain. Blue runes flickered up from the floor, rearranging themselves without my command.

I froze. “Oh, no. That’s not normal.”

The circle brightened, and for half a second, I thought I saw something in the shimmer above it — an outline, maybe, like a hand brushing the veil between worlds. Then it was gone.

The runes on the floor rearranged again, this time into a shape I didn’t recognize. They weren’t the angular strokes of Imperial spellcraft, nor the smooth loops of Guild runes. These were older. Wilder. They pulsed once, like a heartbeat.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, the light blinked out.

The stone lay still, faintly warm.

I exhaled, a shaky laugh escaping before I could stop it. “What the hell are you, Rin?”

I picked up the stone again. The air around it hummed softly, alive but calm now. No scorch marks. No instability. My instruments hadn’t even registered the spike. Whatever it did—it existed outside standard magical measurement.

That wasn’t supposed to be possible.

And yet here it was, sitting in my hand like a secret.

I turned it over again, tracing the etching with my thumb. My mana still vibrated faintly against its surface — not in rejection, but in recognition, like it was listening. That’s the part that unnerved me most. Magic doesn’t listen. It obeys, resists, or collapses. This one listened.

I caught myself grinning. “You’re going to make me very rich.”

I leaned back, letting my head fall against the chair, staring at the ceiling. The wards shimmered faintly in the candlelight. I could almost see him again — standing where he’d been hours earlier, wrapped in that calm arrogance, watching me like he was the one assessing me.

The memory made my jaw tighten.

I’d dealt with hundreds of traders, mages, smugglers — all kinds of people who thought they could play clever. But Rin? He wasn’t playing. He meant everything he said, down to the smallest word. That was the dangerous kind of intelligence — the kind that didn’t bluff because it didn’t need to.

I stood, stretching out the stiffness in my neck. The city outside had dimmed to the soft purple of midnight. 

I took one last look at the spelled stones. The hum had settled into something almost… comforting. Like the shop itself had found a new rhythm to breathe in.

“Alright,” I muttered. “Let’s see how deep this rabbit hole goes.”

Chapter Text

The palace always feels too big, too polished, too painfully quiet.

Maybe it’s just the way footsteps echo off marble like accusations, or how the windows stretch from floor to ceiling as if trying to swallow the sunlight whole. Maybe it’s the endless halls, the cold-white symmetry, the chandeliers that drip gold like unending reminders of my place here—decorative, unnecessary, easily removed.

Or maybe it’s simply me—or well Sunoo.

The unwilling ornament in a house that barely tolerated him. And I am stuck in a world that is not mine.

By the time I reached my room, the illusion spell I used earlier had already dissolved. It felt strange when it happened—like watching ink diffuse into water. My reflection in the window shifted subtly, the dark hair I’d borrowed draining back into its natural milk-gold, the sharper cheekbones softening into the familiar, delicate lines of my real face. My eyes, once black, regained their pale-amber brightness.

It was almost a relief.

Almost.

The room was exactly as I’d left it: neat, quiet, and not mine. I had laid out a fresh outfit on the bed—a soft lavender tunic embroidered with faint silver threads, paired with flowing white trousers. Everything about it was fragile, pretty, and impractical, just like Mother preferred me to look. A lovely little painting for the corners of her gilded home.

I pulled my earlier clothes off and hid them behind the false back of my wardrobe. Just in case. Then I changed into the lavender ensemble, fingers moving slowly, tying the ribbon around my waist with a practiced gentleness. The fabric felt too soft against my skin, like it would tear if I breathed too hard.

For a moment I just stood there, staring at my reflection.

Staring at Sunoo.

Trying not to startle myself with the fact that this was me now. I knew magic. Holy shit.

The knock came too sharply.

“Little master?” a maid called, voice trembling faintly—the way it always did when she wasn’t sure what version of me she would face today. “Her Ladyship requests your presence for dinner.”

Of course she did.

If Mother could summon me with a snap of her fingers, she would.

“I’m coming,” I said, smoothing the sleeves.

The maid dipped her head, eyes flitting nervously across my expression—like she hoped she wouldn’t be delivering me straight into a scolding. Poor woman. She didn’t stand a chance. No one could predict Mother’s temper, least of all the people caught in its wake.

I stepped out into the corridor, the air colder here than inside my room. The east dining hall lay on the other side of the palace—meaning I had to walk past the long corridor lined with tall mirrors and warm-gold lamps. The lamps bathed the hall in light so soft it made the marble appear fluid, like it was melting quietly with every step I took.

I walked slowly. Because I could. Because no matter how urgently Mother “requested” something, she’d never admit to waiting for me. The palace always had that strange timeless quality; the halls could stretch forever if I let them. The servants I passed bowed quickly, eyes downcast, careful not to meet my gaze too long. Not out of respect—out of fear. Not of me, but of what people thought of me.

By the time I reached the tall carved doors of the dining hall, two guards stepped forward and opened them simultaneously. Warm light spilled out—bright enough to sting the edges of my growing headache.

Mother always insisted on lighting every chandelier even before sunset.

She liked the image of abundance.

Of perfection.

The long table gleamed with polished silver, crystal glasses catching the light as if boasting. The white porcelain plates were edged with gold filigree, each setting immaculate. A place for every person, every role.

And I knew my role.

Heeseung sat at the head, posture as flawless as it was suffocating. The crown prince looked like marble carved into human form—elegant, faultless, cold. His dark hair framed his face in a way that should’ve made him look gentle, but on him it only sharpened the edges. His eyes flicked up when I entered, and a nearly invisible tightening around his mouth told me everything.

He didn’t want me here.

Perfect. I didn’t want to be here either.

Niki lounged beside him, and yet somehow more dangerous than Heeseung because he didn’t hide his sharpness behind etiquette. One leg stretched lazily under the table, one hand draped over the back of his chair like he owned the world. His gaze found me instantly, lingering in a way that wasn’t mocking but curious. As if I were a puzzle he wanted to take apart.

And then there was Sooha.

Sitting primly beside Mother, dressed in soft pink silk with silver-thread braids. She looked like sweetness incarnate—gentle eyes, soft smile, hands folded like she was some kind of temple maiden. If I didn’t know better, I’d think birds landed on her fingers and sang lullabies.

“Sunoo,” she said sweetly, tilting her head. “We were waiting for you.”

Liar.

She’d probably been thrilled I wasn’t here yet.

Mother’s expression was perfectly pleasant, perfectly still. “You’re late.”

“I apologize,” I murmured. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

A simple lie. One they wouldn’t care about either way.

Mother nodded a stiff, approving nod. “Sit. Dinner is getting cold.”

I took my place beside Ni-ki—because there was no universe in which I would sit beside Sooha. Not unless I wished to choke on the sugary venom she hid behind her smile.

The meal began with the rustle of sleeves and the clinking of silverware. For a brief moment, no one spoke.

Then Mother did. Of course she did.

“You were sick,” she said lightly, slicing her steak with pristine precision. “Didn’t step out of your room, I hear.”

“I was.” The words tasted bitter. My heart thudded. How much did she know? Had she sensed the illusion spell earlier? Normally she didn’t care enough to notice where I was.

I kept my face straight. “I’ll be more careful.”

Heeseung’s fork paused mid-air. “You should get stronger if you plan to survive the academy,” he said without looking at me, voice cold enough to frost the plate.

My chest tightened.

He always spoke to me like that.

Polite enough for witnesses.

Cold enough to remind me exactly where I stood.

“I’m sure Sunoo will do well,” Sooha chimed in, her voice thick with honey. “He always tries his best.”

The smile she gave me was gentle. Kind. Infuriating.

Because the subtext was obvious.

He’s useless, but oh well, he’s trying.

I forced a thin smile. “Your faith in me is touching.”

Either she didn’t hear the sarcasm or she pretended not to. She giggled softly and took another dainty bite of her meal.

Mother dabbed her lips with a napkin. “Speaking of the academy… You start the day after tomorrow. I expect proper behavior.”

Heeseung added, “The academy doesn’t tolerate incompetence.”

“Don’t trouble your peers,” Mother continued.

“Don’t speak out of turn.”

Sooha added eagerly, “Don’t wander!”

Mother again: “Don’t embarrass the family.”

She didn’t say Don’t disappoint me, but she didn’t need to. It hung in the air like smoke.

I bowed my head. “Of course. I’ll do everything exactly how you want.”

Mother’s expression softened—satisfaction, not affection.

The moment she looked away, I rolled my eyes.

A mistake.

Because Ni-ki saw it.

He looked at me like he was watching a very entertaining play. His lips twitched upward, the barest hint of amusement threatening to spill into laughter.

“You can always ask for help from me, Sunoo-shi,” Ni-ki said suddenly, voice dripping with casual defiance.

It was like he’d thrown a knife across the table.

Heeseung’s head snapped toward him. Mother stiffened. Sooha froze, then turned to glare at me instead of Ni-ki.

Oh well. Worth it.

I nearly glared back at her, but I schooled my expression just in time.

The conversation shifted then—Heeseung discussing council meetings with the kind of bored authority only royalty could manage. Mother commented on palace renovations as if the fate of the nation depended on marble choice. Sooha detailed her embroidery project with a seriousness normally reserved for state secrets. She even held out a tiny stitched handkerchief toward Ni-ki.

“It’s a flower,” she said brightly. “For you, Ni-ki. To wish you luck at the academy.”

It was pink. Very pink.

So pink it assaulted the eye.

Ni-ki stared at it. Then at her. Then at the handkerchief again.

“Thank you,” he said stiffly. “It’s… beautiful.”

“Right?” Sooha beamed.

I snorted quietly. Ni-ki pretended not to hear.

Mother cleared her throat. “Sunoo, you must not cause trouble at the academy. You are easily misunderstood.”

“Keep your head down,” Heeseung translated bluntly.

“Smile more!” Sooha chirped. “People like you better when you smile.”

Heeseung cut in again, “If you need guidance, you can ask me. Don’t trouble Ni-ki.”

Ah. There it was. The disdain disguised as generosity.

I bowed my head. “Thank you, Your Highness. I look forward to your assistance.”

I said it so quietly only Heeseung and Ni-ki could hear.

Ni-ki choked on his drink.

Mother and Sooha looked over in confusion as Ni-ki struggled not to laugh outright.

Dinner dragged on. Plates cleared. Polite smiles exchanged. Tension thickened like honey left too long in the cold.

Eventually, Mother rose gracefully, Sooha floating behind her like a pastel shadow. Heeseung left soon after, muttering about paperwork.

I waited.

The hall emptied.

Silence returned.

I stood from my chair, ready to escape, when I felt eyes on me.

Ni-ki.

Leaning lazily against the wall just outside the doorway. Arms crossed. Head tilted. Eyes sharp enough to cut.

“You walk fast,” he said, pushing off the wall.

I blinked. “You were following me?”

“Maybe.”

“Why?”

He moved toward me, slow and deliberate, every step echoing softly in the quiet corridor. “You pretend a lot, don’t you?”

I schooled my expression into confusion. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Second Prince.”

“Oh?” he stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “I saw you rolling your eyes. I hear your sharp replies. Your mother and Sooha think you’re harmless. A bit dumb, even.”

“That’s your imagination.”

He stopped inches from me—too close, close enough that I noticed the tiny scar near his jaw and the faint scent of steel and citrus clinging to him.

“I see you,” he whispered.

I raised my eyebrows. “I’m not invisible. Everyone can see me. Well then—goodnight, brat. Sorry, Second Prince.”

His eyes lit up.

He laughed.

Actually laughed.

Low. Warm. Dangerous.

I turned quickly and walked away before he could see the confusion on my face. The corridor stretched long and quiet ahead of me, lamps flickering as I passed. My reflection shimmered faintly in the polished floor.

Only when I reached the corner did I let my shoulders drop.

The academy was the day after tomorrow.

Two days left to breathe freely.

And after tonight…

I wasn’t sure breathing would come easily at all.

When I entered my room, I closed the door behind me—and froze.

Because someone was sitting on my sofa.

A woman.

Lounging casually like she owned the place.

My heart lurched. I tried to scream, but no sound came out.

She smiled. “You’re finally here, Sunoo.”

“Who—” My voice cracked. “Who are you?”

“I’m called Laura.” She crossed one leg over the other. “I was asked to help you adjust to this world.”

My world tilted. “By whom?”

She shrugged, amused. “Someone you’ll never know. So let’s move on. My job is to keep you alive for a certain period of time. Luckily, I happen to like your face. So treat me like your personal encyclopedia. And for this week, I have nothing to do. So I’ll be staying with you. You should be thankful.”

I heard myself whisper, “Thank you,” even though I didn’t mean a word.

“What are you?” I managed.

“Oh, good question.” She stretched her arms. “I’ll be like a little fairy now. I’ll sit on your shoulder, make sure you wear something sensible. I sleep a lot, by the way. Don’t bother me unless you’re dying.”

Before I could respond, she shimmered—her form shrinking, shrinking, shrinking—until a tiny winged fairy drifted upward and plopped onto my pillow.

“…What the fuck,” I muttered.

She was already snoring softly.

I stared at her.

Then at the ceiling.

Then at the universe for making my life this complicated.

Whatever.

I was too tired to deal with any of it.

Tomorrow, I had to pack.

The day after tomorrow, I’d be thrown into the academy.

And somewhere in this palace, a fairy slept on my pillow like she owned it.

Great.

Perfect.

Fantastic.

Just what I needed.

Sooha’s POV

I followed Mother out of the dining hall, keeping just a step behind so my skirts wouldn’t brush against hers. The corridor outside was dimmer than the hall, the lamps flickering low, throwing long shadows across the marble. Everything felt heavier after dinner—like the air itself was still soaked with Sunoo’s presence.

Something about him was… different today. And I hated that I couldn’t figure out what.

If Father were here, he would have known instantly. He always saw through people as if they were glass. But Mother had sent him to the Ice Kingdom for some diplomatic nonsense, which meant I was left alone with only my instincts—and lately, those instincts were whispering things I didn’t like.

Sunoo looked almost… sharper tonight. He used to look down, stutter but somehow today the words he did say lingered. And Ni-ki—Ni-ki of all people—kept glancing at him.

Ni-ki was supposed to like me.

Talk to me.

Admire me.

Not that idiot.

My hands curled into fists, hidden behind the soft folds of my skirt.

Mother opened the door to her office and gestured me inside. The heavy oak door swung shut behind us with a soft thud before she locked it, twisting the key until the metal clicked.

That meant this conversation was important.

“Sooha,” she said, walking around her desk with that calm grace she always had. “Sit.”

“Yes, Mother.” I slipped into the chair opposite her, folding my hands neatly in my lap. I always tried to look as obedient as possible during these moments.

Mother’s expression was cool, composed, unreadable. The kind that made my stomach tighten in anticipation.

“Listen carefully to what I’m about to say.”

I nodded, leaning forward slightly.

“The Leon Duke’s heir, Yang Jungwon, will be at the academy this year.”

I blinked. Jungwon? I had heard of him, of course. Everyone had. The quiet boy hidden in the Leon manor library, always reading, always studying. Rumor said he knew more about ancient magic theory than most academy professors.

But he was weak magically. Almost embarrassingly so.

Why would Mother care about someone like him?

“The Yangs,” Mother continued, tone dripping disdain, “have climbed through boot-licking and trickery for generations. Pathetic creatures. But their heir—” She narrowed her eyes. “He’s a smart one. Too smart. Even the King has praised his intelligence.”

That caught my attention.

Mother never exaggerated political threats.

“The good part,” she added, sitting back in her chair, “is that he’s weak in magic. Very weak. Still, intelligence can be dangerous. Dangerous enough that he needs to be removed.”

My breath caught slightly.

“Removed?” I echoed. “As in…?”

“Either destroy his reputation,” she said plainly, “or destroy his magic entirely. He cannot be allowed to rise. Not when the Leon family has already been making moves.”

A small thrill ran through me.

Mother rarely entrusted me with something important.

She rarely trusted anyone with something important.

I straightened. “How should I do it?”

She opened a drawer, pulling out a thin, old-looking book bound in worn leather. Its edges glowed faintly—the way forbidden things sometimes did.

“I’ll give you clear instructions,” she said. “Precise steps. You will study this book carefully. And if anything goes wrong—” She paused, her gaze sharpening. “If suspicion falls on you for even a moment—push it onto Sunoo.”

Ah.

So that was the reason.

That was why Sunoo—useless, frail, good-for-nothing Sunoo—was allowed to go to the academy. I had wondered earlier. Mother was harsh, but she wasn’t stupid. For a moment during dinner, I had actually been scared she was planning to give Sunoo a chance. Maybe she saw something in him that I had missed.

But no.

This made far more sense.

Sunoo was just a convenient scapegoat. Of course.

Father had worked very hard to make mom hate sunoo.

Mother reached across the table and gently placed a hand over mine. Her fingers were cool.

“I know you are kind, Sooha,” she said softly. “My lovely daughter. But sometimes, for the sake of our family, we must do what is necessary. Even unpleasant things.”

Kind.

Lovely.

Her little obedient girl.

I smiled. I always smiled when she said that. It made warmth bloom in my chest, even if a part of me knew it was only half true.

“Yes, Mother,” I said quietly. “I’ll try my best.”

Her lips curved. “Good girl.”

She rose, walked to the door, and unlocked it. “Now go to your room. Rest well. We’ll discuss the details tomorrow.”

I stood, smoothing my skirt. “Good night, Mother.”

“Good night, Sooha.”

As I stepped into the corridor, the cool air brushed against my face, and I let out a slow breath.

Yang Jungwon.

Ni-ki paying attention to Sunoo.

Sunoo acting strange.

Mother gave me a mission important enough to shift the political balance between noble houses.

Everything was changing at once.

And I didn’t like change.

I wanted things to stay exactly as they should.

Everyone is looking at me.

Mother praising me.

Sunoo staying small, harmless, and ignorable.

I clutched the book tighter to my chest as I walked, the faint magical hum vibrating through my fingertips.

If Sunoo became a useful shield, fine.

If Jungwon needed to fall, fine.

If Ni-ki wanted to flirt with danger, fine.

Because at the end of everything, I would still come out on top.

I would make sure of it.

Chapter Text

Sunoo’s POV

Packing, as it turns out, is far more difficult when a judgmental fairy insists on hovering two inches above your shoulder and commenting on every move you make.

Seriously. After multiple attempts, I still know nothing about her—nothing except that she’s annoying and disturbingly confident in her right to critique my entire existence. And yet here I am, trying to fold a pair of trousers while she flies beside my ear like a mosquito.

“No. Absolutely not,” she huffs, arms crossed as she inspects the grey coat I’m about to place in my trunk. “You’re going to the Academy, not a funeral procession.”

“It’s grey,” I mutter. “Grey is respectable.”

“It’s depressing,” she corrects, flicking a speck of dust off it with the edge of her glowing wing. “You should wear purples and blues and pinks. Or hear me out… bright and shiny gold. Something that says I am pretty, but also serious, and all my reputation is bull.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” I deadpan, shoving the coat in anyway. “I need to survive. Lay low.”

Does she know I am going to die in two weeks?

“Well, yes I do. That is why I am here. Oh, I seem to have forgotten to mention I can read minds, but everything you think is obvious on your face, so I probably won’t need to.”

I stop, turn slowly, and stare at her. “What did you say? What… are you? Who are you? (insert dramatic gasp) Are you a witch? No wait, witches are extinct in this world. How much do you know?”

She looks surprised for a moment, but she recovers quickly. If only I knew how right I was.

“Pretty much everything,” she sighs dramatically after a second—still not giving me any answers.

I bite back the urge to throw a boot at her—mostly because she’s too tiny, and also because I am very scared.

She zips to the other side of the room, her trail of pale light leaving gentle sparks that drift down toward my bed. “Is this seriously all you’re taking?” she asks, peering at the trunk like it’s personally offended her. “Where are your accessories? Your hair oil? Your enchanted comb? Your emergency beauty potions? Your— Kim Sunoo took care of his skin, no matter how much of a coward and idiot he was.”

“You knew the original Sunoo. Makes much more sense. Also, he was pretty damn smart. And also—I’m going to the Academy to study,” I remind her, trying not to sound too defensive. Questioning her more will take me nowhere. Better to let her slip something accidentally. “Not to enter a pageant.”

She blinks slowly, like I’ve just said something blasphemous. “Sunoo.”

“What?”

“Your face is a gift. You owe it to the continent to maintain it.”

“…I resent how convincing that sounds.”

“Good.”

With a flourish, she zips toward the dresser and starts pulling things out. She’s too small to lift anything heavier than a button, but somehow everything starts flying from my dresser to the trunk.

“There,” she says proudly once all the trunks are packed. “See? A proper packing list.”

If this wasn’t my room, and if I hadn’t been here for the past few hours, it would be easy to believe the place had been robbed.

“You’re very bossy for someone who refuses to tell me anything.”

She grins at that—bright, mischievous, like she knows more than she should. “You didn’t ask.”

“I did,” I remind her. “Six times.”

“Yes, but you didn’t ask *correctly* or the right questions.”

“What does ‘correctly’ even mean?”

“You’ll figure it out eventually,” she says, tapping my forehead with a tiny spark that feels suspiciously like static. “Or you won’t. That’ll be funny too.”

Unbelievable. I have acquired a constant migraine, and she has wings.

I shoot her a glare. She glares back, completely unbothered.

Fine. She wins.

After another four hours of chaos disguised as “advice,” everything is finally packed. Clothes. Notebooks. Pens. A few magical essentials. And, apparently, half my skincare drawer.

I could have used magic, but that would make the maids suspicious. And there’s a high chance Sooha has planted spies around me.

I sit on the edge of my bed, exhausted. The fairy lands lightly on my knee.

“You’re scared,” she says suddenly—quietly.

I blink. I wasn’t expecting that tone. “I am. Pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

“True.” She hums, studying me like she’s reading my mind again.

“It shouldn’t be Sunoo,” she says quietly. “He was smart and shy and he still believed—after everything—that there was good in the world. But he gave up hope pretty soon. He wanted to be loved, to be cared for, and I told him—at least I tried multiple times—that he has power. His genes are top quality. He could rule the world… but nooo… who listens to me? Neither did his father nor did he.”

Then she suddenly turns to me. “But you, Sunoo, will listen to me. Won’t you now?”

I quickly nod yes because it seems as if saying no would get me killed.

She smiles a little.

Then she continues, “You’ll also surprise yourself.”

I look down at her.

She doesn’t smile this time. She doesn’t tease. Her expression softens—eerily sincere. It’s strange. I didn’t think she was capable of sincerity. Like, at all.

“You’re much stronger than you think,” she says. “Not just magically. You… don’t break as easily as he did. You don’t expect anything from anyone.”

I swallow. Hard.

“…You said you know everything?” I ask quietly. “Even my original life?”

She flits up, hovering eye-level with me, her glow dimmer—almost thoughtful. “I know enough,” she murmurs. “And I’ll tell you more eventually. When you’re ready. Or when I get bored. It’s a race, really.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Aww. Thank you.”

“That wasn’t—”

“Oh! And pack your gloves,” she interrupts suddenly, zipping to the desk and tugging at the pair lying there. “The Academy halls get cold. Historically cold. Spiritually cold. Emotionally cold.”

I sigh and get up again, adding the gloves to my trunk. “You know… I was expecting packing to be peaceful.”

“That was your first mistake.”

“What was my second?”

“Thinking I would allow peace.”

I groan. “Why are you like this?”

“It’s my personality,” she says brightly. “Don’t question it.”

I shut the trunk with a snap.

Everything is packed. Everything is done.

I sit back down on the bed, staring at the wooden floor, feeling the weight of tomorrow settle on me like a cloak.

The Academy. A place filled with strangers. Expectations. And my death.

The fairy lands on my shoulder.

“You’ll be fine,” she says softly.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” she insists. “Because I’m with you.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing!”

“It is,” she argues, folding her arms.

I hesitate.

Because that… might actually be true.

“Besides, everyone here is pretty, handsome, beautiful—and being gay here isn’t as big of a deal as it is in your world. You could even have a harem of men.”

For the first time all morning and afternoon… I laugh.

Just a little.

Just enough.

She beams like she’s won something.

Maybe she has.

Maybe she’s right.

Maybe I will surprise myself.

But for now… I fall back onto my pillow, watching her do the same. 

“Oh and nobody except you can see or hear me by the way.”

And I think—

Maybe tomorrow won’t be so terrible after all.

Before I can sink into the mattress properly, there’s a knock.

What now?

Who visits in the middle of the afternoon?

I get up and open the door, only then realizing I’m wearing nothing but a robe.

The door swings open—and I’m surprised to see the two most unexpected people standing in front of me.

Ni-ki and Heeseung.

But the expressions on their faces are completely different.

Niki looks excited while heeseung looks like I killed his pet. 

That is until they saw me. 

For two full seconds, the world stops.

Ni-ki and Heeseung stand on the other side of the door, framed by the hallway light, staring at me. 

And then I look down.

Correction—

They are staring at me in a robe.

My robe.

My very loose, very soft, very open-at-the-neck robe.

Their eyes widen in perfect synchronization.

Ni-ki’s jaw drops.

Heeseung’s ears turn red.

Their faces turn the shade of ripe tomatoes.

And I just stand there, frozen, halfway between a greeting and a scream.

The fairy on my shoulder whispers, “Oh. This is delightful.”

I do not find it delightful.

At all.

“Uh—” Ni-ki starts, looking at the ceiling, floor, wall—anywhere but me. “We… didn’t know you were… uh… undressed—”

“I am not undressed,” I snap, clutching the robe closed on reflex, which unfortunately draws their attention exactly where I don’t want it.

Heeseung makes a noise that sounds halfway between choking and praying.

“I mean—technically—” the fairy says loudly, “You are—”

I slam the door.

Hard. On their faces.

The fairy bursts into hysterical laughter behind me.

“Oh my god—Sunoo—you should’ve seen their faces—”

“I did see their faces!” I hiss, gripping the robe closed. “That was the problem!”

She laughs even harder. “Oh, I am going to have such a fun in a long long time.

Imagine once you’re surrounded by thousands of boys—”

STOP.”

She doesn’t.

I stumble back toward my wardrobe, trying to breathe normally while my heart attempts to sprint out of my chest. That was humiliating. Horrifying. Traumatizing.

And… weirdly flattering?

No. No no no. Absolutely not. Not thinking that.

I grab the first decent outfit I see—simple dark trousers, a clean shirt, a soft overcoat. No robe. No skin showing. No risk of me accidentally flashing royalty.

I hear footsteps outside.

They’re waiting.

Of course they’re waiting.

Of course they didn’t walk away like normal people who see something they shouldn’t.

I press my palms to my face, inhale, exhale, inhale again.

Okay.

Dignity.

Calm.

Pretend nothing happened.

I check the mirror.

Acceptably dressed.

Emotionally unstable.

Good enough.

I open the door again.

Ni-ki and Heeseung straighten immediately—too quickly, too stiffly, like they’ve been arguing about whether to knock again. Their ears are still pink.

Great.

Fantastic.

Kill me now.

“Hi,” I say, voice cracking like I’m thirteen.

Ni-ki clears his throat, looking anywhere but my chest this time. “We, um… came to see if you were… available.”

“For what?” I ask, suspicious.

“The city!”

Heeseung looks like he wants to kill me or kiss me. I'm not too sure. He has a resting bitch face I guess. But he replies a little too quickly. “The city. I wanted to show Ni-ki around before tomorrow.”

Ni-ki nods rapidly, stepping forward with that toothy grin that should honestly be illegal on someone that tall.

“Yeah! I wanted to see the city before we leave for the Academy. And Heeseung-hyung said you’d show us around since you grew up here.”

I choke.

The same Heeseung, who looks at me like I personally robbed his ancestors?

I glance at him. He’s standing slightly behind Ni-ki, arms crossed so tightly I’m surprised he hasn’t snapped a rib. His jaw is clenched, and he looks… irritated. More than usual.

“I didn’t say he’d show us around,” he mutters. “I said he knows the area. That’s it.”

Ni-ki bounces excitedly on his heels. Actually bounces. “Perfect! Then let’s go!”

He grabs my wrist before I can respond and practically drags me out of my own room. I stumble, barely managing to lock the door behind me.

Heeseung follows us with all the energy of a man being forced at sword-point.

As we walk down the corridor, Ni-ki leans closer, voice low and conspiratorial.

“I swear we didn’t mean to see you like that,” he whispers. “We knocked three times. You didn’t answer.”

Yeah, but—” he smirks, but his ears are pink “—you looked… nice.”

I blink.

Okay.

I was not prepared for that.

Heeseung’s footsteps stutter behind us. I don’t turn around, but I can feel his death glare piercing the back of Ni-ki’s skull.

The fairy floats beside my cheek, smug. “Told you. Harem potential.”

“Shut,” I whisper, “up.”

She giggles.

We finally make it outside, into the warm afternoon sunlight. A breeze brushes through the courtyard.

As we reach the palace gates, Ni-ki nudges my shoulder.

“So where do we go first? Market? Food stalls? Bookshops?.”

“Food stalls.” I reply a little too fast for my own liking. 

We walk toward the city, and Ni-ki immediately falls into step beside me, our arms almost brushing. Heeseung purposely stays three steps behind, like he’s too proud to be seen walking next to me.

As we reach the central market street, Ni-ki’s jaw falls open.

“woah.”

He spins in a slow circle, staring at everything—the colorful fabric stalls, the magical trinket carts, the vendors yelling, the children running with glowing paper kites.

“This is awesome!”

Ni-ki drags me toward stall after stall, asking a million questions at once, excitement radiating off him like sunlight.

“Sunoo, what’s this?”

“A charm to keep nightmares away.”

“Do you use it?”

“No. My nightmares are too persistent.”

He laughs.

“Sunoo, look at that glowing fruit!”

“It tastes like disappointment.”

Heeseung snorts behind us, arms still crossed.

Ni-ki points at a stand selling enchanted scarves. “Let’s get matching ones!”

“Absolutely not,” Heeseung says instantly.

Ni-ki pouts. “I wasn’t asking you.”

He yanks me toward the display.

“I would also like to say no second prince. I do not think we are that close. 

The fairy squeals, “This is better than television!”

Nik-ki and heeseung are glaring at each other now, for what reason i dont know. 

“Second prince, crown prince both of you should get matching scarves.”

“Oh hell no.”

“God nooo”

Both of them reply at the same time.

For some reason the scene and the look on their faces is hilarious to me. 

And I start laughing. Loudly. 

When I finally stop I look up to see both of them frozen. Not blinking. 

“What, is there something on my face?” 

That bring them out. 

And they look away coughing. 

Before we can continue someone approaches us. 

“Your highness.” “Second prince.”

The new dude looks like a cat. And the original sunoo has no memories of him. 

“Jungwon, what are you doing here.” Heeseung says. 

I ve heard that name somewhere before. 

“Wont you introduce us your highness?” Jungwon asks. 

 “Of course. Jungwon this is kim sunoo, son of house valen.” He couldn’t have made his distaste clearer. Heeseung continues. “And this is Yang jungwon. Heir of duke leon.” 

Oh shit. Not him. Anyone but him. In the original, sunoo had been sent by his mother to the academy to deliver something to sooha. Heeseung had accused sunoo of trying to kill jungwon who he treated like a younger brother And had then proceeded to kill him. Later in the story, jungwon kidnaps sooha and tells her that he knew she has been trying to kill him, but he has fallen in love with her cruelty and intelligence, and he would like to be her servant. Which was very dumb to be honest. It was one of the major loopholes that the readers noticed. If jungwon was so smart, he would have known sunoo was innocent. 

“Sunoo, sunoo hyung… you okay?” Niki asked. 

“Huh, what happened?” I asked

This time jungwon replied. “You spaced out. Nice to meet you.” 

“Same.” I turned to Ni-ki, “let’s go to park emporium before it gets too late.”

“oh what a surpries, I am on my way there too, I know the owner. Please follow me your highness.” jungwon said very..almost too..politely.

I did not want to go with him. But when heeseung and ni-ki started following him, I had no choice but to move. 

Jungwon looked like a typical nerd. Glasses, a book in hand, hair well done. Quite cute even but that was all fake. His real personality was revealed later in the original manhwa and I remember being shocked because he was my favorite.

Oh well, I’ll just have to maintain my distance. 

I had more concerning matters right now. I am almost sure that jay won’t recognise me but I was still a bit scared. 

I whispeted to the fairy who was now resting on my shoulder. 

“Save me from this please. Make sure he doesn't recongnise me.” 

Jungwon’s POV

I had only meant to stop by the bookstore. Purely because i couldnt resist. I was here to buy defense stones. As strong as possible. 

 That was the plan. Clean, efficient, predictable.

But the universe clearly despises my predictability.

Because halfway through deciding between two editions of the same book—i heard it. A laugh.

Not just any laugh.

A bright, crystalline sound that struck the air like the chime of glass in the wind. Light, soft, and so strangely… warm. It didn’t belong in this dusty, cramped place with its faint scent of parchment and ink. It was too alive. Too bright.

Too… magnetic.

I looked up.

And my world stopped.

Because standing there, opposite the shop but illuminated like the sun itself had descended to rest on his skin, was him.

In simple clothes. Nothing extravagant. Nothing that should have drawn attention.

And yet—

Beautiful.

So startlingly, so devastatingly beautiful that my breath caught in my throat. My fingers froze on the page. My heart lurched, slamming so hard against my ribs I thought I was having an episode.

It wasn’t just his face.

No, that would have been easy.

It was the way he smiled with his whole body.

I recognised the crown prince and ni-ki beside him, who looked as stunned as me. The way he tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear with unconscious elegance. The way he looked flustered and shy, like he didn’t realize how the entire street must be staring at him.

A living dream. A walking piece of poetry.

And then—

He laughed again.

And I knew instantly:

I was gone.

Irretrievably, embarrassingly, idiotically gone.

I didn’t move for a full ten seconds. I stood there in the aisle like a statue, clutching a book I no longer remembered picking up. My pulse thundered. My mouth went dry. My thoughts scattered like loose pages in a storm.

I’d seen many faces. Many noble heirs. Pretty courtiers. Handsome young masters.

None of them—not one—made my heart feel like it was going to climb out of my chest.

But this stranger did.

This beautiful, gently-smiling boy—

I cant recall the next few seconds. When i focused again nik-ki wad calling Sunoo out. How do I know his name? Huh?

His eyes darted around the shelves with curiosity, his lips parting softly as he whispered something to Ni-ki. His posture was a strange mix of grace and hesitation. Like he wasn’t used to being allowed to relax.

And gods—

The memory of that laugh was still ringing in my ears.

I swallowed hard and stared down at the book in my hands.

Focus, Jungwon.

You’re behaving like an idiot.

But I couldn’t. My eyes lifted again before I could stop myself. They kept tracking him like I was tethered to him by invisible string.

He didn’t notice me. Of course he didn’t.

Beautiful people rarely notice the ones staring at them like starstruck fools.

I saw him stiffen. His smile faded ever so slightly. His eyes turned distant, unfocused.

Like he was remembering something terrible.

Ni-ki leaned in. “Sunoo, sunoo hyung… you okay?”

“Huh? What happened?”

I found myself stepping closer without realizing. Before my mind caught up with my feet.

“You spaced out,” I said before anyone else could reply. “Nice to meet you.”

He blinked. Slowly. As if returning from somewhere far, far away.

“Same.”

Same.

Same?

Why did that single word feel like someone had poured warmth into my chest?

Before I could spiral further, Sunoo turned to the tall boy beside him.

“Let’s go to Park Emporium before it gets too late.”

Park Emporium.

Of all places.

“Oh, what a surprise,” I said, forcing my voice to remain calm, polite, unbothered. “I’m on my way there too. I know the owner. Please follow me, Your Highness.”

Heeseung nodded curtly.

Ni-ki smiled.

Sunoo… did not look thrilled.

But he followed me.

Which was enough.

I stepped ahead of them, leading the way through the bustling street. I walked at a steady, even pace—professional, composed.

But every few steps—

My eyes flicked back.

I couldn’t stop myself.

I needed to look at him.

Needed to confirm he was still there. That the sunlight still glowed against his cheekbones. That his lashes still cast shadows on his face. That his expression still held that strange, careful softness that made something in my chest ache.

He caught me once.

Just once.

His gaze lifted at the exact moment I turned back.

Our eyes met.

Barely a breath.

He blinked quickly.

I pretended to look away faster than wanted to.

My pulse spiked so violently I almost stumbled.

But the more I watched him from the corner of my eye, the more I realized this attraction wasn’t shallow. It wasn’t fleeting.

There was something about Kim Sunoo—something beneath the beauty.

Something fragile.

Something tired.

Something that made me want to protect him.

Which was stupid. Irrational. Insane.

I knew nothing about him.

And yet—

My feet slowed every time he paused to look at a window display or a passing trinket vendor. I found myself tilting my head when he tilted his. I found myself listening for the tiny shifts in his breathing.

Interest was one thing.

This?

This was fixation.

By the time Park Emporium came into view—a wide, polished building with enchanted signs drifting above the doorway like floating lanterns—I wasn’t thinking at all.

I was reacting.

And reacting terribly.

But the doors slid open and Jay greeted us immediately.

“Ah—Your Highness,” Jay bowed to Heeseung. “Prince Heeseung. Young Master Jungwon.”

His eyes drifted to Ni-ki.

Then to Sunoo.

 I introduced them.

A flicker of curiosity passed across his face.

“Have we met before?” Jay asked, head tilting slightly. His tone was neutral—calm, observant, not accusing.

Sunoo froze.

For a moment, his fingers flexed around the fabric of his sleeves.

“No,” he said, steady but forced. “I don’t think so.”

Jay nodded without pressing. “I see. You simply looked familiar.”

He turned away, motioning for us to follow.

Sunoo exhaled quietly, almost imperceptibly.

But I noticed.

I noticed everything.

Jay led us to a counter lined with shimmering items—rings that hummed faintly, small boxes etched with runes, gemstones tucked in soft cloth.

“like I informed I wanted personal defense stones, as many as you have.” I told him.

Jay nodded. “Jungwon, especially for you. I recently got them. Tried and tested. Double defenses. I have five, kept them ready.” 

“Thanks hyung.”

Ni-ki asked, “What do they do?”

Jay’s voice remained even. “Defense. Normally tgey warn th holdwr when danger is near.When crushed or struck, they form a protective barrier around the holder. Works once per normal stone, but in these it works thrice, with the same intensity.”

That’s surprising. 

Jay placed five identical stones on the counter. Soft glow. Smooth surface. No names. No classifications.

Just defense.

“This is the only batch,” Jay said, pushing them forward.

I examined them quickly. Great quality. 

But sunoo didnt look even a bit curious. Tgere were rumours that the valen son was useless, ansd weak, not intrested in magic, but i didnt believe them.

But my eyes—

My eyes kept drifting back to him.

Like gravity.

Like instinct.

Like fate.

We finished the purchase with Jay, who packaged the five stones neatly in a small enchanted pouch and handed them to me. Niki dragged Sunoo around the store which made me want to commit murder but i reminded myself now’s not the right time. 

I started talking to the crown prince.

At least half an hour later. They came back and behind them was a worker carrying everything. 

Jay returned to the counter. “Will that be all?”

Heeseung nodded. “Yes.”

Jungwon, keep it together.

But I couldn’t stop staring at Sunoo.

He didn’t act like nobles do.

He didn’t act like someone raised with privilege.

He acted like someone who didn’t expect kindness.

Like someone who was used to being overlooked.

Or hurt.

And that realization made something dark twist inside me.

We stepped out of Park Emporium and into the fading evening sunlight. The sky glowed in soft orange hues, shadows stretching across the cobbled street.

Ni-ki immediately grabbed Sunoo’s arm again. “Let’s go!” he chirped. “Let’s eat something before we leave.”

Sunoo stumbled a little. “Ni-ki, wait—”

Ni-ki tugged harder.

Sunoo laughed faintly.

And I—

I couldn’t stop watching him.

I walked ahead again, leading the way, because that was the natural formation. Heeseung beside me, posture stiff as always. Ni-ki and Sunoo just behind us.

But this time…

I checked on him more often.

Every few steps.

Turned my head ever so slightly.

Just enough to see him walking beside Ni-ki, Just enough to reassure myself he was still there.

Just enough to feel my heart tighten again and again.

Every glance felt too short.

Every second felt too loud.

He was too bright. Too soft. Too breakable.

He already had.

“Jungwon,” Heeseung muttered under his breath as we walked, “you’re looking back too much.”

I nearly tripped.

“No, I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m checking on Ni-ki.”

“You’re staring at him.” We both knew who he meant by him.

“I—”

My jaw clenched shut.

Heeseung scoffed. “Try to be subtle. Also he isnt what he seems. Sooha has told me a lot, try to stay way.”

I didn’t respond. Because I wanted to punch the crown prince. How dare he insult my angel. 

There was no point denying it.

The truth was painfully, humiliatingly simple:

I had fallen for Kim Sunoo.

Hard.

Fast.

And with absolutely no plan of recovery.