Chapter Text
Princess Jang Wonyoung’s day began before the sun rose.
She woke not to birdsong or warmth, but to the quiet knock of a gloved hand against her chamber door.
“Your Highness. It is time,” they would say.
It was always time.
Time for posture training. For etiquette instruction. For political history. For language lessons. For dining practice—where she learned how to cut meat without scraping porcelain and how to smile without showing too much teeth.
There was a correct way to sit. A correct way to walk. A correct way to laugh and smile. There was even a correct way to look surprised.
And Wonyoung learned them all one by one.
By three years old, she could curtsy without wrinkling her skirt.
By seven, she could speak five different languages enough to impress even the most hardened of diplomats.
By nine, she could recite trade agreements from memory, impressing scholars three times her age.
By eleven, she understood that tears must never fall in public—and preferably not in private either.
“Again,” her etiquette tutor would say, tapping the floor lightly with a thin wooden rod. “Shoulders, Your Highness. A queen does not slouch.”
So she straightened.
“A queen must know about everything happening in her kingdom,” her history tutor would say.
So she studied endlessly.
“You’ll grow accustomed to dining alone,” her father had told her once when she asked if he’d join her for lunch. “Rulers do not have the luxury of company at every meal.”
So she learned to eat in silence.
She took every correction with quiet diligence, implementing it immediately. That was what was required of her.
In the palace, the chambers were grand and gleaming. Marble floors so polished, they reflected light from crystal chandeliers that burned long into the night. Footsteps echoed endlessly in the vast hallways. Servants bowed as she passed, never meeting her eyes. Guards followed at a respectful distance—close enough to intervene if necessary, but far enough to remain invisible.
No one ran in the palace.
No one shouted.
No one tripped over their own feet and laughed about it afterward.
Dinners were quiet. Conversations were measured and calculated. Even birthday celebrations were carefully orchestrated affairs, where every gift had political meaning and every smile was documented with barely concealed discretion.
When Wonyoung asked once—just once—if she could visit the castle town outside the palace gates, her father’s expression had gone still.
“No,” the King said firmly. “You are not like other children.”
The statement was not cruel.
It was simply true.
Other children climbed trees. Other children scraped their knees. Other children ran and played and laughed until they were called home by their parents, waiting with the scent of dinner wafting from open windows.
Wonyoung had never climbed a tree. Wonyoung never ran until she fell and got hurt. Wonyoung never played and laughed. And most of all, Wonyoung was never called home.
She was already expected to be there.
Always.
So, Wonyoung was not like other children—she was the princess of this kingdom. And that meant certain expectations were to be met.
Even her friends were chosen for her. Daughters of nobles who spoke carefully and giggled behind jeweled fans. They complimented her dresses. They praised her handwriting. They never asked her what she liked.
No one ever asked her what she liked.
And the worst part was, even if someone did, Wonyoung didn’t know if she could give them an answer.
That was why, when the King himself called her to his office to tell her she’d be accompanying him on his monthly royal inspection of the capital, she was shocked, to say the least.
This would be her first time leaving the castle grounds. Going into the city. Her eyes widened slightly and her heart started racing. She squeezed her clasped hands tighter, hoping to keep her face impassive. However, her excitement must have shown on her face because the next second, her father spoke.
“You will remain close at all times,” he said sternly, “the guards will be surrounding you for the entirety of the visit. Pay attention to the way I interact. This is as much a learning experience as any other lesson. No dilly-dallying or wandering off.”
Any excitement she felt upon hearing the news evaporated immediately. She swallowed once before replying.
“Yes, Father.”
By the day of the royal inspection, Wonyoung had already memorized the route, the speeches, and the appropriate facial expressions. Her tutors took it upon themselves to drill into her every last drop of knowledge about the capital, her role as a princess, and the inspection procedures until the very last second. They even decided to tag along with her, in order to quiz her periodically throughout the inspection.
Wonyoung sat beside her father in the carriage, spine straight, hands folded in her lap.
“You will remain close,” he reminded her quietly, though not unkindly. “I assume your tutors have done their jobs well. The capital can be unpredictable.”
“Yes, Father.”
Unpredictable.
The word lodged itself in her chest, like a heavy weight pressing down on her.
She did not know what unpredictable felt like.
She wished she did.
The carriage doors opened. And the capital came to life.
Banners in the kingdom’s colors hung from every balcony, rippling in the morning breeze. Flower petals scattered across the stone streets. Merchants stood straighter than usual. Mothers hushed their children. Guards lined the road in glistening armor.
And at the center of it all stood the King and Princess.
Wonyoung smiled the way it had been drilled into her. Soft but dignified, bright but not too wide. Chin raised, shoulders back, hands folded neatly in front of her.
“Your Highness,” a merchant said, bowing deeply. “It is an honor.”
She inclined her head precisely as she had been taught, not lingering for too long on any one person.
Everything moved like clockwork. Courtiers nodded. Guards scanned and blocked paths. The tutors moved about with purpose, scanning and talking amongst themselves. Her father spoke in measured tones about trade routes and prosperity.
It felt practiced. Clean and efficient. Cold, even.
Wonyoung’s gaze drifted past them.
Beyond the polished carriages, past the guards standing at the ready, past the carefully selected townsfolk clearly accustomed to being in the presences of such esteemed guests, bowing stiffly with impeccable posture.
She looked as far as her vision could go.
And what she saw almost made her gasp out loud.
Children darted between people, shrieking with laughter. A boy nearly collided with a stack of crates and burst into giggles instead of apologies. A baker wiped flour across her cheek and didn’t bother fixing it. Somewhere, someone argued loudly about the price of apples—unapologetically, messily, alive.
No one corrected their posture.
No one lowered their voices.
No one looked afraid of being imperfect.
A gust of wind carried the scent of fresh bread toward her.
Warm. Sweet. Real.
It wrapped around her like something forbidden.
Wonyoung swallowed.
She had tasted delicacies carved into swans and dusted in gold.
None of them had ever smelled like that.
“Stay close, Your Highness,” a guard murmured.
She nodded automatically, though her eyes never left the distant horizon.
Her father moved ahead to inspect a row of artisans. The guard formation shifted slightly. Not broken, just loosened.
And in that looseness, something inside her cracked open.
For twelve years, every step had been decided for her.
Every word measured.
Every movement watched and recorded.
She had never chosen her own direction.
The alley beside a flower stall was narrow and half shadowed. No guards blocked it. No tutors stood waiting. No one called her name. All the attention was focused on her father and the artisans surrounding him.
Her heart began to pound.
Not from fear.
From possibility.
Just for a moment, she told herself.
Just long enough to see what unpredictable felt like.
Princess Jang Wonyoung took one step backward, eyes trained on the guards, watching to see if she would be seen.
No one noticed.
Another step.
Everyone was so absorbed in the King’s speech.
Another.
Her pulse thundered in her ears, wild, untamed, unfamiliar.
And for the first time in her life, she moved without being told to.
She turned and ran into the alleyway, not looking back.
She emerged on the other side, slipping into the crowd.
Not as a princess.
Just as a girl.
At first, no one noticed her.
That was the strangest part.
No gasps. No whispers. No bows. No grand proclamations of Your Highness.
People brushed past her without apology. A woman balancing baskets nudged her shoulder and kept walking. A little boy nearly collided with her before darting off again, shrieking with laughter as a girl chased after him.
Wonyoung stood very still in the middle of it all.
No one was watching her.
The realization sent something light and dizzying through her chest.
She took a step forward. Then another. And soon she was walking down the road, taking everything in.
The market unfolded around her like a storybook suddenly coming to life. Fabrics spilled from stalls in bright, clashing colors—deep indigo, sunset orange, forest green. Strings of dried herbs hung overhead. Glass bottles caught the sunlight and fractured it into rainbows across the walls.
She had studied maps of the capital. Read accounts of the markets and the products that could be procured here.
None of them had prepared her for this.
A baker called out cheerfully, holding up a tray of pastries dusted with sugar. A girl, who looked a few years older than her, argued passionately with a fishmonger over the price of shrimp. An old man played a fiddle near a fountain, the melody slightly off-key but had people dancing and laughing joyfully.
Joyful.
Not rehearsed.
Not refined.
Just joyful.
Wonyoung drifted toward a fruit stall, drawn by the color. Strawberries piled high in a wooden crate, their skins bright and glossy. She hesitated, glancing around—half expecting a tutor to scold her for being drawn in by something so basic.
No one did.
Slowly, almost reverently, she reached out and touched one.
The vendor noticed.
“Careful, kid,” he said gruffly, but not unkindly. “They bruise easy.”
She retracted her hand as if she’d been burned.
“I’m sorry,” she said automatically, dipping her head in a practiced half-bow before she could stop herself.
The vendor blinked at her, confused, then shrugged. “You buyin’ or just admirin’?”
Wonyoung froze.
Buying.
She had never bought anything in her life.
Coins were handled for her. Decisions were made for her.
“I—I was just looking,” she said softly.
“Huh,” The vendor turned away, “suit yourself.”
No offense taken. No deference given.
She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
And then she smiled, soft but genuine, still a bit wary of the eyes around her even if she wasn’t their focus.
She moved deeper into the market.
A ribbon stall caught her eye next. Lengths of silk and cotton fluttering in the breeze. One particular ribbon, a soft shade of pale blue, caught her attention.
The lady at the stall saw her and smiled.
“That color suits you,” she said, grabbing the ribbon off the shelf and holding it to Wonyoung’s hair.
“Eh—ah, do you really think so?” Wonyoung asked hesitantly, not really used to this kind of interaction.
“Of course, dearie, I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” she replied casually, barking out a laugh at Wonyoung’s sheepish expression.
After a few seconds, Wonyoung laughed too, still quietly but no less sincerely.
No royal stylist adjusted her clothes.
No one told her it clashed with her dress.
Only a kind woman who thought the color suited her.
It felt… nice.
A group of children raced past her again, one of them stumbling. Instinctively, she stepped aside, barely avoiding being knocked over.
The stall lady called out, “Hey kids! Watch where you’re going will ya? You almost bumped into this kind young gal!”
“Sorry!” The boy called over his shoulder, not slowing down.
“Aish, these kids,” the lady sighed, turning back to Wonyoung, “you alright, dearie?”
Wonyoung nodded minutely, pressing a hand to her chest, heart racing—but she was smiling.
So this is what unpredictable feels like, she thought.
Alive.
She bid goodbye to the lady and wandered further still.
The market stalls thinned slightly near the edge of the square, where buildings grew taller and shadows stretched longer across the cobblestones. The noise dulled a bit, not silent, but less vibrant.
Wonyoung barely noticed at first.
She was too busy watching a street performer juggle small flaming batons, eyes wide as the firelight reflected in her pupils.
The performer bowed dramatically when he finished. Applause erupting from the few people who watched. A few coins clinked into his hat.
As the small crowd dispersed and the performer packed up his things, that was when she noticed it.
The laughter had faded.
The nearby stalls were sparser. The colors less bright. The people much fewer.
The air felt heavier here.
And just as she contemplated turning back, a voice cut through the quiet.
“Well, aren’t you dressed a little fancy to be wandering alone?”
Wonyoung’s smile faltered.
She turned.
Three men leaned against the side of a building just beyond the reach of the market’s livelier center. Their clothes were worn but not poor. Their expressions weren’t friendly.
She straightened automatically, posture snapping into place as if a rod had been slid down her spine.
“I’m not alone,” she said carefully, trying to discern the distance between her and the royal inspection she had abandoned.
The words sounded smaller than she wanted them to.
One of the men pushed off the wall, the rest following closely behind.
“Could’ve fooled us,” he sneered.
Her pulse quickened, hands balling into fists at her sides.
She wasn’t naive. She knew what these men wanted. She swallowed nervously, glancing behind her, taking a step back as the men took another step towards her.
The colorful stalls felt further away than ever.
Have I really walked this far?
Another step from the men.
“Where you headed, little miss?”
Her throat tightened.
She had been trained for diplomacy. For negotiation. For strategy. She had never been trained for this.
“I’m meeting someone,” she said, lifting her chin slightly.
The wind tugged at her loose hair.
“Are you?” One of them asked sarcastically, with a crooked grin.
They were closer now.
Too close.
The exhilaration that had filled her moments ago drained rapidly, replaced by something cold and sharp.
Fear.
For the first time since stepping away, she felt truly twelve.
And very, very alone.
Wonyoung forced herself not to step back, to face these men head on.
She was the princess of this kingdom. She couldn’t falter now.
“Pretty things get lost sometimes,” one of them said, voice low now, “but we can take good care of you.”
Her breath hitched.
A cold, hard shiver ran through her spine.
She opened her mouth—to threaten? To command? To plead? She didn’t know. Nothing came out. She just stared, hopelessly frozen in place as they came closer and closer and—
“HEY!”
The interruption was sharp.
Clear.
Young.
All three men turned to look.
So did Wonyoung.
A girl stood a short distance away, half-shadowed by the darkness of an alleyway. She looked no older than Wonyoung—twelve, maybe thirteen at most. Her clothes were plain. Worn at the elbows. Practical.
She wasn’t smiling.
She wasn’t afraid either.
“You’re blocking the road,” the girl said evenly. “Move.”
One of the men barked a laugh. “You again, huh? Run along, little hero. Take your silly sense of justice somewhere else.”
It was spat like an insult.
But the girl didn’t flinch.
If anything, she squared her shoulders.
Wonyoung noticed it immediately—the way her feet shifted. One slightly back. Balanced. Ready.
“I don’t need you to tell me what to do,” the girl said calmly.
“Orphan’s got a mouth today,” another muttered, vitriol coloring his tone.
Wonyoung felt something twist in her chest at that, glancing at the girl again.
Orphan.
The girl’s jaw tightened just barely, the only sign that the insult had landed.
But she stepped forward anyway, placing herself directly between Wonyoung and the men.
Wonyoung froze.
No one had ever stood in front of her like that.
By their own choice.
Guards stood beside her heeding their orders.
Nobles stood behind her, deferring to her.
Never in front. Never like a shield.
“Go home,” the girl told the men. “Before you embarrass yourselves.”
The tallest one sneered and lunged, the movement fast.
But the girl was faster.
She pivoted cleanly, shoving him off balance with surprising precision. Not wild, controlled. Like she’d done this before.
The second man grabbed for her arm.
She twisted free and shoved him backward into a stack of crates.
“When I give the signal, run,” she muttered over her shoulder, not panicked, just firm.
Wonyoung just gaped, still trying to process what she was seeing. She stared at the back of the girl’s head, at the way her stance held steady despite being outnumbered.
A hand lunged toward Wonyoung.
She flinched, a sharp gasp pulling from her lungs.
The girl stepped sideways, intercepting it before it could reach her.
That was the moment it really hit Wonyoung.
She wasn’t fighting to win.
She was fighting to protect.
Protect her.
A stranger.
After shoving the last man to the ground, she grabbed Wonyoung’s wrist—firm, but not rough.
“Now,” she said.
They ran.
Not gracefully. Not strategically. Just fast. Enough to stay out of the men’s reach.
They ducked through narrow market paths, between startled vendors, boots slapping against stone. The girl never let go of her hand.
She kept glancing back, adjusting their direction with quick sharp decisions.
Left.
Through a curtain of hanging cloth.
Right.
Over a low crate blocking the path.
At a sharp intersection, she pulled Wonyoung into a small crevice in the buildings, pressing her against the wall, covering her body with her own, breathing hard but controlled.
Wonyoung could feel the rapid rise and fall of the girl’s chest, the way she held Wonyoung against herself protectively, cushioning the back of her head with her hand so she doesn’t hit her head against the hard concrete of the wall. Wonyoung’s cheeks turned pink. Not just from the physical exertion, but from the stranger’s closeness. Nobody had ever held her like this before.
The girl listened intently to her surroundings, hearing the yelling of the men as they quickly passed by their hiding spot.
She waited for a few moments, until she couldn’t hear their footsteps anymore.
Then nodded once.
“We lost them.”
Only then did Wonyoung get a proper look at her.
Up close, her eyes were dark and steady. There was a small scrape along her knuckles, where she punched the men. A faint bruise near her collarbone, half-hidden by her shirt.
She looked real.
Alive.
Concerned.
“You okay?” She asked, eyes flicking over her, assessing.
Just that.
Not Your Highness.
Not miss.
Just you.
Wonyoung nodded slowly, chest rising and falling rapidly.
Her hand was still in the other girl’s grip.
She realized it slowly and instead of letting go immediately, as protocol would demand, the girl simply stayed there, steady and grounding.
“Are you?” Wonyoung managed.
The girl snorted softly. “Me? You’re the one who almost got cornered.”
Almost got cornered.
Not almost disgraced the crown.
Not almost endangered the royal image.
Just… concerned. For her.
Wonyoung felt something unfamiliar swell in her chest.
No one had ever stepped between her and danger without an army behind them.
No one her age had ever looked at her like this—not calculating alliances, not curtsying, not comparing bloodlines.
Just… helping.
“I didn’t ask for help,” Wonyoung said automatically, years of training at never showing weakness bubbling up.
The girl raised an eyebrow. Not offended. Amused.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” she smirked slightly.
It wasn’t sarcastic. It was teasing.
Teasing.
Wonyoung blinked again.
“I’m Yujin,” the girl said, finally releasing Wonyoung’s hand—but only because she was checking the alley exit. “And you are?”
There it was.
The moment she had been trained for.
She should say it.
She should announce her name and title.
She should demand silence and loyalty and secrecy.
Instead—
“…Wonyoung.”
Just that.
Yujin’s expression didn’t change.
No recognition. No widening eyes. No bowing.
She just nodded once. “Okay, Wonyoung. Next time, maybe don’t wander into the shadiest corner of the market wearing silk.”
Wonyoung glanced down at herself, startled.
“Oh.”
Yujin grinned.
It wasn’t polished or rehearsed. It was bright and crooked and completely unbothered.
“You’ve never been out alone before, have you?”
Wonyoung hesitated, shocked that this perfect stranger could tell that much from just a brief interaction.
“No…”
The word felt heavier than it should have.
Yujin studied her for a second, not pitying, just… understanding.
“Well,” she said, pushing off the wall, “guess today’s your lucky day. Wanna tag along with me for a bit?”
She extended her hand again.
Not to drag her this time.
An offer.
Wonyoung looked at it.
At the scraped knuckles. The steady fingers.
Someone her age who didn’t treat her like a prize to be looked at.
Someone who had just thrown herself into danger without hesitation.
For her.
Wonyoung bit her lip, contemplating. She’s been away from her father and the guards long enough for them to have noticed. She should really be getting back lest she really get in trouble. But… she looked again from Yujin’s eyes to her hand to the bustling city she had yet to see even a fraction of.
She placed her hand in Yujin’s.
And for the first time in her carefully constructed life, Wonyoung felt something dangerously intoxicating:
Choice.
Besides, how could she call it a royal inspection if she hadn’t inspected anything with her own two eyes…
Yujin’s fingers curled firmly around hers.
“Alright,” she said, already turning. “First rule. If you’re going to wander into the city, you have to actually see it.”
Wonyoung barely had time to respond before she was being pulled forward again, back toward the center of the market.
It all rushed toward her again.
Sound, color, movement.
Life.
Yujin weaved through the crowd like she belonged there, glancing back every few steps to make sure Wonyoung was still with her.
“Okay, so over there,” she pointed, barely slowing down, “best grilled skewers in the entire market. And that stall—” she jerked her chin toward a line of people gathered around a small cart, “—their sweet rice cakes? Worth fighting for. Literally. I’ve seen it happen.”
Wonyoung blinked, trying to keep up. “You’ve… fought for food?”
“Not seriously,” Yujin said quickly. Then, after a beat, “Well. Not that seriously.”
Wonyoung let out a small, unexpected chuckle at that.
Yujin glanced at her, then grinned—big and unapologetic.
Then, her eyes caught sight of something and her expression brightened, eliciting an excited gasp.
“Oh! Oh!” Yujin pointed again, somehow sidestepping the big rush of people suddenly entering from a connecting road, taking Wonyoung with her, “And those dumplings? Best I’ve ever had.” A dreamy look appeared on her face. “They are to die for.”
“Wait!” She suddenly stopped. So abrupt that Wonyoung nearly walked into her. “You’ve had dumplings before, right?”
Wonyoung hesitated. “…I’m not sure.”
Yujin stared at her. “What do you mean you’re not sure?”
“I’ve had… stuffed pastries?” Wonyoung offered carefully.
“That is not the same thing!” Yujin insisted, and she took a breath. “Okay. Okay… How about candied fruit?”
“I um… no…”
Yujin’s eyes widened. “Noodles?” Her voice pitched up incredulously.
“Well—no…”
“How about sweet potatoes?” She asked, turning to face Wonyoung fully, mouth gaping.
“No…”
“Surely you’ve had custard bread before?!” Yujin practically exclaimed, voice desperate.
Wonyoung just stared at her sheepishly.
Yujin looked scandalized. As if this were the greatest offense known to mankind.
Wonyoung cleared her throat awkwardly, hoping to dissipate the silence. “I thought—”
“No. No. We’re fixing this immediately,” Yujin interrupted, nodding to herself firmly.
Before Wonyoung could respond, Yujin grabbed her wrist again and dragged her toward the nearest stall.
“Two!” She called, already fishing coins out of her pocket and slapping them onto the counter with practiced ease.
The vendor handed them over without question.
Yujin shoved one into Wonyoung’s hands.
“Eat.”
Wonyoung looked down at the small, round shape in her hands. She looked back up at Yujin, confused and unsure.
“It’s good. I promise!” Yujin insisted, popping the dumpling into her mouth, smiling happily as she chewed.
Wonyoung looked at the dumpling again, steam curling faintly into the air.
Slowly, she raised it to her mouth and took a bite.
The flavor hit her all at once.
Rich, savory, unfamiliar in a way that made her pause.
Her eyes widened.
Yujin leaned in immediately. “Oh, that face—” she lit up, practically vibrating. “That’s a good face. That means you like it!”
Wonyoung swallowed quickly, still processing. “It’s… alright.”
“Alright?” Yujin echoed, mock-offended. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”
Wonyoung huffed softly, something lighter settling into her chest. “I like it,” she amended.
“Better.”
They didn’t stop there.
Or anywhere, really.
Yujin moved from stall to stall with unstoppable energy, pointing things out faster than Wonyoung could fully process.
“This one—try this—no, wait, actually this one first—okay, both, just take both—”
By the time Yujin was done, there was a small mountain of food held between them.
“I can’t possibly eat all of this—”
“You can and you will! Besides, I’m here to help too!”
At some point, Wonyoung stopped protesting.
She followed, tasted, listened, and laughed.
They ended up sitting on the low stone edge of a fountain, shoulders brushing as people passed by in a steady stream.
Yujin ate like she did everything else. Without hesitation.
And Wonyoung found herself watching her more than the crowd.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Yujin asked, mouth full.
Wonyoung coughed and looked down at the skewer she was holding.
“I’ve just… never eaten like this before…”
Yujin frowned. “Like what?”
Wonyoung hesitated.
“With someone.”
The words felt strange as they left her mouth. She felt like she was sharing too much. Being too much.
Yujin stilled. “…You mean you usually eat alone?”
Wonyoung nodded faintly, unable to meet Yujin’s eyes.
Yujin stared at her for a second longer than expected. “That’s…” she started, then stopped, shaking her head. “That’s kind of sad.”
There was no malice in it.
Just honesty.
Then—
“Why don’t you eat with me then?” Yujin offered, giving Wonyoung a bright smile. “I could find you everyday! And we could eat together! That’ll be much more fun!”
Wonyoung froze, caught off guard.
Nobody had offered her something like that before.
Not trying to impress her.
Not trying to curry her favor.
Just… out of the kindness of their heart.
Genuinely wanting to spend time with her.
Wonyoung had to blink away tears, sending a watery smile Yujin’s way. “That does sound nice, doesn’t it?” she whispered wistfully, knowing full well that it could never happen.
Yujin grinned at her, bumping her shoulder to Wonyoung’s playfully. “Then it’s settled, my new food-buddy!”
Wonyoung let out a sharp laugh before she could stop herself.
It slipped out—unposhlished, unmeasured.
Yujin blinked, surprised. Then laughed too.
And suddenly, it didn’t feel so strange anymore.
She realized, food tasted different like this.
Warmer.
Not because of the heat.
But because there was someone across from her, talking, reacting, sharing it with her.
Yujin pushed herself up suddenly. “C’mon!”
“Where are we going now?” Wonyoung asked curiously, standing up to follow Yujin.
“Dessert,” she said matter-of-factly.
Wonyoung glanced down at the half-finished food in her hands. “We’ve already—”
“Not proper dessert,” Yujin protested.
She didn’t give Wonyoung any time to argue.
Again, she reached for her hand. And this time, Wonyoung didn’t even think twice before letting her take it.
They slipped out of the busiest part of the market, turning down a narrower street where the noise softened into something more distant.
Yujin slowed slightly this time, less urgency in her steps.
“There,” she said, nodding ahead.
A small bakery sat tucked between two taller buildings. The sign above it was slightly crooked, the windows fogged faintly from the warmth inside.
It wasn’t grand.
It wasn’t polished.
But it smelled—
Wonyoung paused mid-step.
Her eyes widened.
It smelled sweet. Warm and soft. Nothing like anything she was used to.
“This is where I work sometimes,” Yujin said, a hint of pride slipping into her voice. “Sweeping, mostly. Carrying flour. Sometimes baking when the old man lets me. But… mostly getting yelled at when I eat too much of the inventory.”
Wonyoung glanced at her. “You work?”
“Yeah,” Yujin shrugged and joked. “Orphans need to get money somehow.”
The way she said it—so casually—made something in Wonyoung’s chest tighten.
Yujin pushed open the door and a small bell chimed overhead.
“Back again?” A man called from behind the counter. “Missed us already, huh?”
“Shut it, old man!” Yujin shot back, easily.
The person behind the counter let out a boisterous laugh, leaning over to ruffle Yujin’s hair affectionately. Though, Wonyoung could have sworn there was something more in his eyes.
But before she could pick apart the interaction, his gaze shifted over to Wonyoung. It lingered for just a second—taking in her clothes, her posture.
And Wonyoung felt it.
Not recognition.
But something close.
Her shoulders stiffened slightly.
Yujin didn’t seem to notice.
“One custard bread,” she said, already reaching over the counter like she belonged there.
“Didn’t you just have one yesterday?” He asked, still glancing between the two kids.
“I’m supporting the local economy!” She fired back, grinning.
He sighed.
But the bread was handed over anyway.
“No need to pay, it’s on me,” the man said lightly.
Yujin disregarded his words, quickly placing coins on the counter.
“Oi kid!” He sighed. “Save your money. It’s just one piece of bread.”
“No can do, old man,” she replied flippantly. “I don’t need any special treatment. Besides! A knight’s gotta lead by example, y’know!”
Wonyoung’s ears perked up at that.
A knight? She thought curiously.
Is that what she wants to be?
“You still on about that?” The man groaned, running a hand through his hair.
He looked at Yujin and sighed again.
This time Wonyoung could place the emotion.
Pity.
He was looking at Yujin with pity.
And Yujin… didn’t seem to care.
Or maybe she just pretended not to.
Somehow, that realization sat strangely in her chest—uncomfortable in a way she didn’t quite understand.
But, she didn’t have time to analyze her emotions.
Yujin turned to Wonyoung quickly, expression bright.
She broke the bread cleanly in half without hesitation and passed the larger piece to Wonyoung.
Wonyoung stared at it.
“Go on,” Yujin urged, eyes sparkling.
Wonyoung stifled a laugh at her eager expression and carefully took a bite.
Softness and warmth filled her mouth. It was sweet in a way that felt simple and real.
Her eyes closed before she could stop herself.
Yujin went very still. “…Okay, that might be the best reaction I’ve ever gotten.”
Wonyoung opened her eyes slowly, gazing at Yujin with such a soft expression that Yujin momentarily forgot how to breathe.
“This is wonderful…”
Yujin cleared her throat awkwardly, looking away to hide the small blush adorning her cheeks. “Yeah… it is…”
Wonyoung chuckled at her bashfulness, raising the bread to take another bite.
Yujin shifted her weight from one foot to the other, glancing toward the door, then back at Wonyoung.
“C’mon,” she said suddenly, like she’d just made up her mind. “There’s another place I wanna show you.”
Wonyoung tilted her head slightly. “There’s more?”
Yujin grinned, a little proud. “Obviously. You’ve barely seen anything yet!”
She reached for Wonyoung’s hand as she finished the last bite of her bread and tugged her toward the door.
The bell chimed softly behind them as they stepped back out into the street. But, instead of turning back into the heat of the market, Yujin led her the other way.
Away from the noise and crowds.
The streets grew narrower.
The buildings shorter.
The noise softened from a constant roar into dispersed pockets of sound. Distant chatter, a cart rolling over stones, the faint bark of a dog somewhere far off.
Yujin’s pace slowed as they made their way closer to the outskirts of the city. No longer dragging Wonyoung along, but just walking with her. Hand in hand.
“Where are we going?” Wonyoung asked, looking around.
Yujin glanced at her, grinning playfully. “You’ll see.”
Wonyoung pouted lightly.
Nobody had ever refused to answer her before.
It was slightly miffing.
Yujin caught the expression and laughed brightly. “You should see your face!”
Wonyoung’s pout deepened. “Hey! Don’t laugh!”
But Yujin just laughed harder, clutching her stomach with one hand.
Wonyoung lightly hit her shoulder in annoyance, brows furrowing.
She’d really never had to deal with someone like this before.
Someone who brings about many new emotions within her.
After Yujin calmed down, she smiled softly at Wonyoung. “You really haven’t seen much of the capital, have you?”
Wonyoung met Yujin’s eyes and saw nothing but openness.
“I haven’t,” she admitted softly.
Yujin studied her for a second. Not confused. Not disbelieving. Just taking her in.
“Huh,” she said.
And then she smiled again, brighter.
“Well, good. Then I get to be the one to show you everything first!”
And something about the way she said it made Wonyoung’s chest feel oddly light.
The stone beneath their feet eventually gave way to packed dirt. The air shifted too. It was cooler, cleaner here.
The scent of baked goods and smoke faded, replaced by the smell of earth, leaves, and water.
Grass stretched out in uneven patches, dotted with wildflowers that swayed in the breeze. A narrow path wound ahead, half-hidden, like it had been made by habitual use rather than design.
Yujin followed it without hesitation, pulling Wonyoung along behind her.
It was much quieter here.
Gone was the noise of the city. The bustle of stall owners calling out their wares. The laughter of children as they chased each other through the streets. The rumble of carts being hauled through cobblestone streets.
Now, the air was filled with something much softer.
Leaves rustled overhead. The trickle of water reached her ears from somewhere ahead. Birds chirped to each other, unseen but present.
Wonyoung found herself holding her breath.
It felt like speaking too loudly might break this fragile peace.
Yujin hopped over a small dip in the path, turning back immediately.
“Careful,” she said, reaching out instinctively.
Wonyoung took her hand again, stepping over it more cautiously.
She blushed lightly as Yujin’s hand came to rest on her waist, steadying her on the other side, before letting go.
The sound of water grew louder.
They kept walking, as the trees opened up.
A narrow river cut through the clearing, sunlight scattering across its surface in shimmering patterns of gold. The current moved quicker near the center, slower at the edges where smooth stones broke the flow.
The grass here was softer, greener. Worn down in places, like people had sat there before.
Yujin let go of Wonyoung’s hand only to throw her arms out slightly, like she was presenting something grand.
“Tada!”
Wonyoung stepped forward slowly, eyes wide.
“It’s…” she started, then stopped.
There weren’t words for it.
Not the kind she was taught, anyway.
It wasn’t fancy or polished. There were no marble pillars. No carved statues. No carefully trimmed gardens.
And yet—
It was beautiful.
“I come here a lot,” Yujin said, plopping down onto the grass like she’d done it a hundred times before. “When it gets too loud. Or annoying. Or when I just don’t feel like dealing with people.”
She leaned back on her hands, squinting up at the sky.
“A lot of people seem to have forgotten this place. But I haven’t… You can think here.”
Wonyoung lingered a few steps behind. “It’s really… peaceful,” she said quietly.
“Yeah,” Yujin agreed. She glanced over and grinned. “You can sit y’know? It’s not gonna bite you.”
Wonyoung huffed softly at that, but she did sit.
Carefully at first, like she was afraid of wrinkling her dress, doing something wrong.
Then, a little more naturally.
No one corrected her posture.
No one told her how to sit.
And, for a while, neither of them spoke.
Wonyoung watched the way the water moved. How it curled around the rocks, how it shined when the sunlight hit it just right.
It didn’t follow strict lines.
It didn’t move in perfect patterns.
And yet, it still… worked.
“…Do you come here alone?” She asked eventually.
Yujin shrugged. “Mostly.”
Then, after a beat—
“Sometimes the other kids come by. But not a lot.”
Wonyoung nodded, though something about that answer felt a little off.
But before Wonyoung could ask further, Yujin suddenly pushed herself up, brushing grass off her hands.
“Hey,” she said, a spark of energy returning. “Wanna try something?”
Wonyoung looked up at her. “What?”
Yujin grinned.
And without explaining, she stepped closer to the river’s edge. Then, with a quick motion, picked up a flat stone.
She flicked her wrist.
The stone skipped once.
Twice.
Three times before sinking beneath the surface.
Yujin turned back, triumphant. “Did you see that?”
Wonyoung blinked, bewildered. “…You… threw a rock.”
“It’s not just throwing a rock!” Yujin protested, already crouching to find another one. “You have to angle it right. Here—try.”
She held one out.
Wonyoung stared at it like it was something foreign.
“I’ve never—”
“Even better,” Yujin cut in. “That means I get to teach you.”
She stepped behind her without thinking, reaching out to adjust her grip.
“Hold it like this—no, not like you’re holding a teacup,” she laughed lightly, nudging Wonyoung’s fingers into place. “Looser.”
Wonyoung stiffened for half a second at the contact.
Then… didn’t pull away. A light red dusted over her cheeks.
“Okay,” Yujin said, leaning slightly closer. “Now aim low, and—”
She guided her hand forward.
Wonyoung released the stone.
It hit the water with a very ungraceful plop.
Yujin stared.
Then, started laughing.
“Okay, that was terrible,” she said honestly, still catching her breath from the laughter.
Wonyoung gasped softly, offended, pout already forming on her face. “You said you would teach me!”
“I am teaching you!” Yujin shot back. “That was step one: what not to do!”
Wonyoung huffed, pouting lightly. But, the slight upturn of her lips gave away her own amusement.
Yujin grinned like a fool, pinching Wonyoung’s cheeks lightly. “You pout a lot y’know? It’s kinda cute.”
Wonyoung’s breath caught slightly. Her ears burned red.
Nobody had ever called her cute before.
Wonyoung coughed once, turning away to pick up another stone. “H-hurry up and teach me how to do it properly!”
Yujin laughed again—but this time, she stepped closer without teasing.
But, the peace didn’t last.
It started with laughter.
Sharp. Loud. Too close.
Yujin’s shoulders tensed almost immediately.
Wonyoung looked up at her, feeling the change.
A group of kids emerged from the trees on the other side of the clearing—four of them, maybe five. Around their age. Clothes rumpled, expressions already twisting in disgust when their eyes landed on Yujin.
“Well, well,” one of them called, dragging out the words. “If it isn’t the knight.”
Yujin’s jaw tightened. “Don’t start,” she muttered under her breath.
Wonyoung glanced between them, confusion flickering across her face.
The kids moved closer, boots crunching against the dirt.
“Who’s your friend?” Another chimed in, eyes sliding over Wonyoung. “Didn’t know you had friends, orphan.”
A few of them snickered.
Wonyoung instinctively straightened, posture falling into place without thought—but it only seemed to make things worse.
“Ooh,” one boy mocked, clasping his hands dramatically. “Look at her. All proper and pretty.”
“Careful,” another added with a smirk, “Or you’ll scare her off. She’s probably not used to… whatever you are, orphan.”
Yujin took a step toward them. “Leave her out of it,” she said, voice low.
“Oh?” The first boy raised a brow. “Touchy, are we?”
His gaze flicked to Wonyoung again, more scrutinizing this time.
“Where’d you even find her? She looks like she wandered out of a palace or something.”
Wonyoung’s breath hitched—just slightly.
Yujin stepped in front of her, blocking their view.
“I said drop it.”
But their attention had already shifted.
“Hey,” one of them said suddenly, pointing. “What’s that?”
A glint of gold caught the sunlight in a patch of uneven grass near the river.
One of the boys picked it up.
Wonyoung froze.
Her hand instinctively moved to her chest.
Felt nothing.
A small, delicate brooch, set with a pale gemstone, was gripped in the boy’s hands.
“T-that’s mine!” Wonyoung said, slightly panicked. It must have fallen off when she was throwing stones in the river.
The boy wasn’t listening. He held it up between his fingers, turning it over with a low whistle. “This is worth something.”
“Give it back,” Yujin said harshly, stepping forward.
The boy grinned. “Make me.”
Another voice laughed. “Careful, she might challenge you to a duel. Wannabe knight and all that.”
More laughter.
Wonyoung’s chest tightened.
“Please,” she said, the word slipping out before she could stop it.
The boy looked at her mock-pity in his expression.
“Please?” He echoed.
He laughed manically.
Took a breath.
Smiled.
And then—
He tossed it.
Not back.
Not to the ground.
Into the river.
Time seemed to stop. Wonyoung’s eyes widened as the small glint of gold arched through the air and disappeared beneath the rushing current.
“No—!”
She stumbled forward, dropping to her knees at the river's edge, scanning desperately.
The water moved too fast. Too bright. Too unforgiving.
“It’s gone,” one of them said with a shrug.
“Shame,” said another.
Wonyoung’s hands trembled as she leaned closer, searching.
That brooch wasn’t just an accessory.
It was one of the few things that had ever been given to her without expectation. A quiet gift from her mother, before she passed, and long before lessons and duties had swallowed everything else.
Her vision blurred.
“Hey,” Yujin snapped, shoving the boy back. “That wasn’t funny.”
“Oh, relax,” another said, rolling his eyes. “It’s just a piece of metal.”
Yujin took one look at Wonyoung.
At the way her shoulders trembled, just slightly. At the way her hands hovered helplessly over the water.
Yujin’s hands curled into fists.
“No,” she said firmly. “It wasn’t.”
And then, she jumped.
Straight into the river.
Wonyoung gasped.
The water swallowed her whole.
The current was stronger than it looked. Fast, relentless. Pulling at anything that entered it.
“Yujin!” She cried, scrambling to the edge.
Behind her, the boys’ laughter faltered.
“Idiot,” one muttered before they disappeared.
A dark shape moved beneath the surface.
Wonyoung could barely see her silhouette.
The seconds stretched.
Too long.
The current dragged her, pulling her further downstream.
“Yujin!” Wonyoung’s voice cracked.
She stood abruptly, stepping into the water without thinking—only for the cold shock and force of the current to make her stumble back onto shore.
She couldn’t—
She couldn’t do anything.
All she could do was watch.
“Please…” she whispered.
Then—
A hand broke the surface.
Yujin resurfaced further down, coughing, one arm gripping onto a slick rock as the current fought to pull her away.
Relief hit Wonyoung so suddenly it almost hurt.
“Yujin—!”
Yujin tried to haul herself up, fingers slipping against the wet stone.
The current surged, dragging her sideways—
Her arm slammed against a jagged edge.
She hissed, teeth gritting, but didn’t let go.
Wonyoung’s heart lurched. “Careful—”
Yujin adjusted her grip, pushing through the pain, and with one final effort, managed to pull herself out.
She collapsed onto the grass, breathing hard, water dripping from her clothes, her hair plastered to her face.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Then, Wonyoung rushed forward, kneeling beside her.
“A-are you okay?!” She asked worriedly, helping her sit up and scanning her up and down.
Yujin let out a shaky laugh. “I’ve had worse.”
“That doesn’t answer my question!” Wonyoung exclaimed, her grip on Yujin tightening slightly.
Yujin just grinned at Wonyoung before taking her hand and gently placing something in it.
Her brooch.
Wonyoung gasped, tears welling in her eyes.
“Y-you really got it back?” She whispered incredulously.
“I’m pretty good at dramatic rescues!” Yujin laughed cheerfully.
Wonyoung huffed out a laugh too, about to roll her eyes when suddenly—she froze.
The laugh died in her throat.
Her eyes were fixed on Yujin’s arm.
A jagged cut traced down her arm, blood mixed with river water trailing in thin red streaks.
“You’re hurt,” she whispered.
“It’s nothing,” Yujin shrugged, about to stand up.
Wonyoung gripped her shoulders, not allowing her to move. “It’s not nothing!”
Her voice trembled.
That made Yujin still.
Wonyoung pulled her closer, hands surprisingly steady as she guided her onto the grass. She dipped part of her sleeve into the river and carefully cleaned the cut.
Her fingers were gentle.
“You could have gotten swept away,” she murmured.
Yujin shrugged again, though her shoulders were shaking from the cold now. “It’s just water.”
Wonyoung looked up at her, her brows drawn together, frowning.
And something she’d been wanting to say bubbled out of her before she could stop it.
“Why do you always do that?” She asked.
“Do what?”
“Throw yourself into things like you don’t care what happens to you.”
A beat passed.
Neither looked away.
Yujin opened her mouth to joke.
The words didn’t come.
She looked away instead.
“They already think I’m nothing,” she said finally, voice quieter. “So what’s a few scrapes?”
Wonyoung’s hand paused.
“My parents… they were killed by bandits. There was nothing I could do but watch,” Yujin continued, staring at the trees. “I never want to feel that helpless again. I want to be a knight. I want to protect people. I want to make sure nobody else has to feel that sadness…”
She tried to smile.
It wobbled.
Wonyoung squeezed Yujin’s hand.
“They all laugh at me when I train,” Yujin said. “Say girls don’t belong in the knights. That orphans don’t either. Kids think it’s funny. Grown-ups think it’s pathetic.”
Yujin met Wonyoung’s eyes.
They glistened slightly.
“But… if I’m gonna protect people, I’ve gotta be brave first, right?”
Silence settled between them.
The river rushed on, uncaring.
Yujin coughed lightly, embarrassed. She huffed out a breath, like she regretted saying so much.
“So… what now?” She muttered, deflecting the emotion, roughly wiping away the moisture in her eyes. “Is this where you tell me I’m dreaming too big? That I’ll never be a knight?”
Wonyoung just looked at her. Raising her hand to carefully brush away a stray tear from Yujin’s cheek.
“I’d never say something like that.”
Yujin deflated immediately, looking away. “Yeah—uh… I… I knew that…” she rubbed her nape awkwardly, “I knew you weren’t that kind of person… It’s just… I’m not really used to… well… people not insulting me… So uh—sorry…”
Wonyoung smiled gently at Yujin, cupping her cheek to turn her face, meeting her eyes again.
“I think you’re already braver than most knights.”
No teasing.
No sarcasm.
Just certainty.
Yujin blinked.
No one had ever looked at her like that.
Not like she wasn’t ridiculous.
Not like she wasn’t reckless.
But like she was… admirable.
“You… you really think so?” She asked, softer than before.
Wonyoung nodded. “You didn’t jump because you wanted to show off. You jumped because I was upset.”
She swallowed.
“No one has ever done something like that for me before.”
Yujin’s ears turned red. “I mean… I could see how much it meant to you… That was enough of a reason for me…”
Their eyes met.
And held.
Something shifted between them.
Not loud and dramatic.
But, steady.
Warm.
Important.
Yujin cleared her throat awkwardly. “W-well, when I’m a knight, I’ll be saving everyone from rivers all the time!”
Wonyoung smiled.
Not the practiced court smile.
A real one.
“I think,” she said carefully, “that when you’re a knight, the whole kingdom will feel much safer.”
And Yujin stared at her like she’d just handed her the moon, eyes sparkling, smiling wide, cheeks turning a rosy pink.
Wonyoung chuckled, reaching out to poke Yujin’s dimple lightly. “You blush a lot y’know?” She smirked. “It’s kinda cute.”
And Yujin just blushed all the harder.
Yujin rubbed the back of her neck, damp sleeves clinging uncomfortably to her skin as they walked.
“Sorry,” she muttered, glancing over at Wonyoung. “You kinda have to tag along with me to the orphanage now just because I got a little… wet.”
“A little?” Wonyoung echoed, brows lifting slightly.
Yujin huffed a quiet laugh. “Okay, a lot wet. But still.”
Wonyoung shook her head, the corners of her lips lifting. “Don’t worry about it.” She paused for a moment. “I’m actually… a little curious about where you live.”
Yujin blinked at her, surprised. “Really?”
Wonyoung nodded, a slight redness in her cheeks, saying a bit more softly this time. “If that’s alright…”
Something in Yujin’s expression shifted. Briefly startled, then quickly brightening.
“YEAH!” She said a little too loudly. She cleared her throat. “Yeah, that’s fine,” she shrugged, hoping for nonchalance.
Wonyoung giggled.
And Yujin ducked her head slightly. It seems she failed at casualness.
The orphanage sat on top of a hill at the edge of town, where the roads grew quieter and the buildings less polished. It was attached to a modest church, its stone walls worn with time, ivy creeping along one side.
Yujin pushed open the wooden door without hesitation.
“I’m back—”
“Yujin!” A sharp voice cut through the air immediately.
A woman in a simple habit stormed forward, her expression tight with frustration.
“Where in God’s name have you been? Do you have any idea how worried I—” she stopped short, eyes sweeping over Yujin’s soaked clothes, the scrape along her arm.
Her expression darkened. “You went near the river again, didn’t you?”
Yujin winced. “I—I… I-It wasn’t like that—”
“How many times do I have to tell you NOT to go near there?!” The Sister snapped, grabbing Yujin’s arm and turning it to inspect the injury. “You’re lucky this is all that happened! You could have been seriously hurt!”
“S-sister I—” Yujin started shakily, shrinking into herself a bit at the scolding.
She huffed again, muttering to herself. “Reckless. Stupid. Doesn’t listen to a thing I say. Completely thoughtless—”
Then, she looked up.
Noticed Wonyoung.
The words died in her throat.
Her gaze lingered for a second, taking in the fabric of her dress, the way she held herself, the quiet composure.
Not full recognition. But… just enough.
The Sister’s face paled.
“Oh—” She straightened immediately, stepping back. “My apologies, I didn’t realize we had… a guest.”
Her tone shifted entirely. Polite. Careful.
Too careful.
She shot Yujin a look. “And you—mind your manners!”
Before Yujin could react, the Sister pressed a firm hand to the back of her head, forcing her into a bow.
“Apologize,” she murmured sharply. “I can’t believe you brought someone of her station here!”
Yujin stiffened, clearly caught off guard. “I—”
“It’s fine,” Wonyoung said quickly.
Both of them paused to look at her.
“She didn’t do anything wrong,” she said. “Actually… she helped me.”
The Sister blinked. “Helped you? Yujin did?”
Wonyoung nodded. “I was in trouble earlier. Yujin stepped in.”
There was no embellishment.
Just the truth.
Yujin slowly lifted her head, eyes flicking toward Wonyoung.
Wonyoung smiled back, noticing the gaze, making a blush form on Yujin’s cheeks who then immediately looked away.
The Sister hesitated, uncertainty crossing her features. “I see.. well, even so, she shouldn’t have brought you to such a dreadful pla—”
“I wanted to come,” Wonyoung said quietly.
That did it.
Silence settled, heavy and unexpected.
“I wanted to see where the person who saved me lived,” she repeated, voice resolute, eyes never wavering from Yujin.
The Sister’s grip loosened. “…I understand…”
But her gaze flicked between them again, something unsettled lingering beneath her composure.
Yujin, on the other hand—
Looked like someone had just handed her the world.
“C’mon!” She said suddenly, recovering, a grin breaking across her face as she grabbed Wonyoung’s hand again. “I’ll show you around!”
“Yujin—!” the Sister started, scandalized at the impoliteness. “You can’t just—”
But Wonyoung only glanced back briefly.
And smiled.
Small. Easy.
Dismissing the matter before it could be made into a bigger deal.
Yujin didn’t wait for further permission.
She pulled her inside, leaving behind an exasperated Sister who could only sigh in resignation.
The inside was warmer than the outside, though not by much. The air smelled faintly of bread, soap, and worn wood. Evidence of years of living.
There were three distinct areas: a play area, dining room, and the living spaces for the kids.
Wonyoung’s mouth hung open as Yujin pulled her past the dining room and to the play area.
The orphanage wasn’t large.
In fact, it was probably barely bigger than Wonyoung’s bedroom and bathroom combined.
Not nearly large enough for the number of children inside.
A few heads turned as they entered.
Then—
“Yujin unnie!”
A small boy ran straight toward her, nearly tripping over his own feet.
Yujin caught him easily, laughing. “Hey—slow down!”
“You’re back!” A young girl chimed in, tugging at Yujin’s sleeve. “Did you bring anything?”
“Oi, I just got here,” Yujin protested, ruffling the girl’s hair affectionately. Though, even as she said that, she was already reaching into her pocket, pulling out a small tin of candies and handing it over.
The kids lit up instantly.
More gathered, crowding around Yujin as she made sure each of them got a piece.
“Hey! No taking another until everyone has one okay? Oi—Jihoon! I saw that! Don’t take candy from your sister! And—Hey! Jinu! No cutting in line!” Yujin was at the center of the chaos, somehow managing it.
Wonyoung stood just behind her, watching.
The way they looked at Yujin…
It wasn’t polite.
It wasn’t distant.
It was trust.
“Did you get hurt again?” One girl asked, frowning at Yujin’s arm.
“Hey! Hey!” Yujin said, poking at the girl’s cheeks lightly. “Turn that frown upside down! It’s just a scratch!”
The little girl giggled at Yujin’s antics, unable to keep from smiling.
“There’s that smile!” Yujin exclaimed happily, grinning.
Wonyoung’s heart softened at the exchange and couldn’t help letting out a chuckle of her own.
Yujin turned to meet her eyes, giving her an exaggerated wave over the crowd of kids.
Wonyoung smiled genuinely and gave her a small wave in response.
Once Yujin was able to extricate herself from the gaggle of children, she returned to Wonyoung’s side.
They moved through the building slowly.
Yujin pointed things out as they went. Their room for meals, the corner room where the younger kids slept, the small storage closet where supplies were kept.
Everything was shared.
Everything was worn.
It was modest.
And yet—it was alive.
Laughter echoed faintly from another room. Someone was humming in the kitchen. A child cried somewhere, only to be quickly soothed.
Wonyoung took it all in quietly.
It was so different from the castle.
So loud.
So lived in.
So… human.
Then, her gaze drifted to Yujin.
To her hands.
The one still wrapped around hers, guiding her through a new world.
So this was where Yujin lives, she thought.
A Sister quickly made her way out of an adjoining room, almost bumping into Wonyoung if not for Yujin swiftly pulling her away.
“Oh—Yujin!” The Sister exclaimed, glancing momentarily at Wonyoung before turning back to Yujin. “Just who I was looking for. We need more money to buy bread for tonight. Do you have some left?”
“Yeah, I have some,” Yujin replied casually, reaching into her pocket to fish out some coins and hand them over to the Sister. “Here.”
The sister looked down at the coins, counting. Her brow furrowed. “That’s less than you normally have.”
“Oh yeah… I spent some,” Yujin replied, already pulling Wonyoung forward.
The Sister stopped Yujin with a firm hand on her shoulder. “Yujin,” she started sternly. “What did we say about unnecessary spending?! If you wanted to buy something, you should have cleared it with us first!”
Yujin flinched at the raised voice but turned toward her fiercely. “It’s my money! I earned it fair and square! I can do what I want with it!”
The Sister took a step forward. “Don’t you want the other children to have food and clothes?! You’re already thirteen! You should know how to be responsible for your younger siblings!”
Yujin’s breath caught. Her shoulders slumping, eyes cast to the ground.
“I know…” Yujin whispered, eyes flicking briefly to Wonyoung. “I know they need food and clothes. But, that’s the money I worked hard for.”
Her voice cracked at the end despite her effort to sound firm.
The Sister’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, it hardened further. “And you think you’re the only one working hard here? Every child under this roof depends on what we have. That includes you.”
Yujin’s hands curled into fists at her sides.
“I know that!” She snapped, louder this time. “I just—”
She stopped.
Because there was nothing she could say that didn’t sound selfish.
The silence that followed was heavy. Pressing.
And Wonyoung felt it settle in her chest. Squeezing tightly.
This wasn’t like the palace—a place full of wants.
Where if people wanted food, they could just ask a maid. If they wanted new clothes, they could just call a tailor or merchant. If they wanted something, there was always someone to take care of it within seconds.
Here, there was just need.
Just survival.
And Yujin—
Yujin, who had spent the entire day giving without hesitation.
Giving to her.
Was now being made to feel like she had taken too much.
Like this was all her fault.
Wonyoung stepped forward. “Excuse me.”
Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear.
Both of them turned.
The Sister blinked, as if only just remembering she was there.
“She spent it on me.”
The words came out firm, measured.
Yujin’s head snapped toward her. “Wonyoung—”
“It was my fault,” Wonyoung continued, more steadily now. “I asked her to show me around the market. She… bought me food.”
The Sister’s gaze sharpened, taking in Wonyoung more carefully now, assessing her clothing, her stature. “And you allowed her to spend her wages on you?” She asked, tone measured, but edged.
Wonyoung didn’t flinch.
“I didn’t understand what it meant at the time,” she admitted. “But, I do now.”
A pause.
Then, she continued more gently. “She didn’t spend carelessly. She shared.”
The room fell quiet.
Yujin stared at her, wide-eyed.
The Sister’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Intentions do not fill empty stomachs,” she said. “Kindness does not replace bread.”
Wonyoung nodded once. “You’re right.”
That seemed to catch her off guard.
Wonyoung stepped closer. Not defensive or confrontational.
Composed.
“But neither does shame,” she added softly.
The words landed differently.
Not as a challenge.
As truth.
“Yujin didn’t refuse to give. She already did,” she continued voice calm, gesturing to the coins in the Sister’s hand. “Even now.”
Her gaze flickered briefly to Yujin before returning.
“And if she is expected to care for the others… then she should also be allowed to choose kindness when she sees fit.”
Yujin’s breath hitched slightly.
The Sister hesitated.
And Wonyoung saw it—a slight shift.
Not agreement, but reconsideration.
So she pressed, just a little more.
“If there is a debt to be repaid,” she said carefully, “then I will repay it.”
Yujin’s eyes widened. “What—no, you don’t have to—”
“I insist.” Wonyoung turned to her momentarily, expression soft but firm.
Then back to the Sister.
“I cannot undo what’s already been spent,” she said, reaching up to take off her hair ornament. “But I can make sure the children are not affected by it.”
Wonyoung held out the accessory to the Sister.
The Sister studied her for a long moment.
Taking in her posture.
Her words.
Her certainty.
“…You speak like someone who is used to being listened to,” she said slowly.
Wonyoung kept her face composed.
“I just say what I think is right,” she replied gently.
Another pause.
Then, finally, the Sister exhaled.
“Very well,” she said, taking the hair ornament from Wonyoung. “But this is not a habit we will encourage.”
Her gaze shifted to Yujin.
“And you—will discuss large expenses with us next time.”
Yujin nodded quickly. “Yeah. I will.”
The Sister gave a small nod before turning away, quietly sighing under her breath “just who have you gotten us involved with Yujin?”
And just like that, it was over.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then—
“Why would you say that?” Yujin whispered, grabbing Wonyoung’s wrist and pulling her into a room. “You didn’t have to—”
Wonyoung looked at her.
Really looked at her.
“At the market,” she said softly, “you didn’t hesitate to spend your money on me.”
Yujin frowned slightly. “That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because I wanted to,” Yujin said, like it was obvious.
Wonyoung’s chest tightened. “…Exactly. I wanted to help you,” Wonyoung paused slightly. “So I did.”
But Yujin’s frown only deepened.
So, Wonyoung did the only thing she could think of.
She very carefully poked Yujin’s cheek. “Hey! Hey! Turn that frown upside down!”
Yujin blinked at Wonyoung, then broke out into a shy smile, a giggle bubbling out of her.
Wonyoung beamed. “There’s that smile!”
Yujin rolled her eyes, pushing Wonyoung’s hand out of her face, feigning nonchalance. Though the redness in her ears gave away her embarrassment.
“Yeah yeah, stealing all my lines today, aren’t ya?” Yujin huffed, moving further into the room.
Wonyoung only chuckled, following behind Yujin.
Yujin cleared her throat, gesturing around. “So, this is my room.”
Wonyoung looked around.
It was small.
Smaller than the others.
And already occupied.
A few bunk beds lined the walls—thin mattresses, simple blankets. A handful of belongings tucked neatly beneath or beside them.
“Don’t mind the mess,” Yujin added, stepping toward one bed in particular, reaching underneath to pull out a trunk of clothes. “I should probably change before the Sister loses it again.”
“Okay, would you like me to lea—” Wonyoung stopped short, freezing in place.
Because Yujin didn’t wait. She just peeled off the soaked outer layer like it was nothing.
Wonyoung’s face went immediately red.
“Ah—!” She turned away so fast she nearly stumbled. “You could have said something!”
Yujin blinked. “…Said what?”
“T-that you were going to—!” Wonyoung gestured vaguely, refusing to turn back.
“Oh.” Yujin glanced down at herself, then laughed. “It’s fine, everyone does this here.”
“That doesn’t make it better!” Wonyoung insisted, flustered.
Yujin only laughed harder, quickly trying to put on her fresh clothes so as not to cause Wonyoung any more discomfort.
Wonyoung, for her part, tried to focus on anything other than the rustling behind her. And, in her effort, her gaze wandered around the room and ended up landing on something small tucked into the corner of Yujin’s bed.
A plush toy.
A bunny, slightly worn, one ear bent just a little out of shape.
“…What’s that?” She asked, quieter now.
Yujin followed her gaze, fully dressed. “Oh,” her expression softened. “That?”
She walked over, picking it up carefully.
“An older kid gave it to me,” she said. “Before they got adopted.”
Wonyoung’s eyes lingered on it. The slight discoloration from use. The little seam that had come undone near the foot. It all felt so… special.
“You kept it all this time?”
“Yeah,” Yujin shrugged lightly. “Felt weird throwing it away. Besides… the kids love playing with it in the evenings.”
Wonyoung hesitated.
Then, very gently— “It’s cute.”
Yujin glanced at her.
Smiled softly.
Then, without much thought, held it out.
“Here.”
Wonyoung blinked. “What?”
“Take it.”
“I can’t,” Wonyoung said immediately. “It’s yours.”
Yujin shrugged. “So?”
“It’s important to you.”
Yujin tilted her head. “And?”
Wonyoung faltered, meeting Yujin’s unwavering gaze.
Yujin nudged it closer. “You like it, right?”
“I—well, yes, but that’s not—”
“Then take it,” Yujin said simply.
No hesitation. No second thought.
Wonyoung stared at her.
At the easy certainty in her expression.
At the way she gave things like it cost her nothing—
Even when it clearly did.
“I… Are you sure?” She asked, softer now.
Yujin grinned, then placed the bunny in Wonyoung’s arms. “Keep him safe for the both of us okay?”
Wonyoung glanced down at the bunny in her arms.
Then back to Yujin.
“I will… Thank you,” she murmured, holding the plush a little closer than necessary.
Yujin’s grin widened. “No problem!”
She rocked back on her heels for a moment, like she was debating something with herself. Then, she reached out and grabbed Wonyoung’s wrist again. “Oh! Wait! There’s one last place I wanna take you.”
Wonyoung blinked. “Another place?”
“Yeah,” Yujin smiled, already tugging her along. “My favorite.”
There was something different in her voice this time. Not just excitement.
Something softer.
Wonyoung didn’t question it. She just let herself be pulled along.
They made their way back down the hill, past the quieter roads, back toward the city. The streets had begun to glow with the warm light of lanterns, the sky above painted in soft hues of gold and pink.
But instead of turning toward the market, Yujin veered.
Turning toward the edge of the square. Toward a structure that loomed above the rest of the city.
Wonyoung slowed. “The clocktower…” she murmured.
It stood tall, though clearly worn by time. She had learned that the hands hadn’t moved in years, frozen in place. Nobody knew why nor could they fix it. The doors were shut, the entrance barred off to the public.
Dangerous.
Abandoned.
Yujin didn’t hesitate.
She pulled Wonyoung to the backside, lightly hidden by tall trees. Looked left and right once to confirm nobody would see them. Then, crawled through some bushes, moving aside a weak plank to step inside.
Then turned, expectant. “C’mon!”
Wonyoung lingered for just a second longer, eyes tracing the cracks in the stone, the slight tilt of the structure.
Unsteady.
But, Yujin was already inside.
Waiting.
Trusting her to follow.
Wonyoung exhaled quietly.
And stepped forward.
The inside was dim, dust catching in the last streaks of sunlight filtering through the narrow windows. The air was cooler here.
Wonyoung shivered slightly.
Yujin grabbed her hand again without thinking.
“It’s warmer at the top, promise.” She said, beckoning her toward the stairs. “Watch your step.”
The climb was long.
Spiraling.
The wooden steps creaked beneath their weight, the sound echoing faintly in the hollow tower. At times, Wonyoung found herself gripping Yujin’s hand just a little tighter, steadying herself as they climbed higher and higher.
“Almost there,” Yujin called back, giving Wonyoung’s hand a gentle squeeze in reassurance.
There was a smile in her voice.
Finally, they reached the top.
Yujin stopped just before the opening, turning suddenly. “Okay—wait,” she said.
Wonyoung tilted her head. “What?”
“Close your eyes.”
“…What?”
“Just—trust me,” Yujin insisted, already moving behind her.
There was a brief pause.
Then, Wonyoung closed her eyes.
“They’re closed…”
“Okay, good.” Yujin’s voice softened. “Don’t peek!”
“I won’t.”
Yujin gently placed her hands on Wonyoung’s shoulders, guiding her forward. Step by careful step, they moved. Until, Wonyoung felt the light brush of the evening air and the warmth of the sun against her skin.
The world felt open and wide.
“Okay,” Yujin murmured. “You can look now.”
Wonyoung opened her eyes.
Then gasped.
The entire capital stretched out before her.
Rows of houses bathed in golden sunlight. Lanterns flickering to life, one by one, alone the streets. The distant hum of the market, quieter now, but still alive. The river, shimmering lightly against the sunset in the distance.
Everything.
Everything they had passed through.
Everything they had shared that day.
From here, it was all visible.
All connected.
Wonyoung’s mouth fell open, completely unladylike.
“It’s…” she whispered.
She didn’t need to finish the sentence.
Didn’t need to.
Yujin puffed out her chest beside her, grinning, a hint of nervous anticipation in her eyes. “Worth it, right?”
Wonyoung turned to her.
And for a moment—
Something in her broke free.
All the restraint.
All the composure.
She grinned. Crooked. Bright.
“So worth it!” She shouted.
Yujin startled, eyes widening slightly at the sudden burst of energy.
Then, she laughed. Loud and unrestrained.
A blush crept up Yujin’s cheeks as she took in the pure, unadulterated joy on Wonyoung’s face. “I… I’m glad you like it…”
Wonyoung didn’t look away.
Couldn’t.
There was something about Yujin like this—
Happy.
Bashful.
Real.
It made her chest feel too tight.
Too full.
Then, Yujin’s laughter faded into something quieter.
She took a deep breath.
And when Wonyoung focused on her again, there was something different in her expression.
Something more akin to nervousness.
“Hey… Wonyoung?”
“Yes?”
Yujin rubbed the back of her neck lightly, gaze flicking anywhere but at Wonyoung’s face.
“Um… today was…” She trailed off, huffing a small laugh. “It was really fun.”
Wonyoung smiled softly at her, encouraging.
“I’ve just—” Yujin scratched at her cheek, words coming slower now. “I’ve never really… played with people before… And when I did, it was never this much fun.”
She risked a glance at Wonyoung, then quickly looked away again.
“And I know I’m just—” she gestured vaguely to herself, “—an orphan. And I’ve got a kinda stupid dream and all that, and I know people don’t really like me so it’s not like I’ve got much to offer or anything—”
“Yujin—”
“But!” She rushed on, cheeks burning now, “I just though that maybe—if you wanted to—like—”
She squeezed her eyes shut for a second.
Then opened them, meeting Wonyoung’s gaze, and forced the words out.
“Would you… wanna be friends?”
Silence.
Just for a moment.
But it felt like everything held its breath.
Wonyoung stared at her.
At the way her hands fidgeted with her sleeve.
At the way she tried her very best to keep meeting her eyes.
At the way she had asked so simply.
So honestly.
No expectations.
No ulterior motives.
Just… her.
Wonyoung’s heart pounded loudly in her chest.
No one had ever asked her that before.
Not like this.
Not without wanting something in return.
Her gaze drifted, just for a second—back to the city.
The sun dipping lower.
The light fading.
A quiet, heavy realization settled in her chest.
This moment…
It wouldn’t last.
When she returned to the palace…
She might never walk these streets again.
Might never smell the market stalls again.
Might never play at the river again.
Might never—
See Yujin again.
Her throat tightened.
But still—
For this moment.
Just this once—
She wanted to be chosen.
And to choose back.
A single tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Yujin.
“Yeah…” she whispered softly. “That’d be nice.”
Yujin froze, just for a second.
Then—
“Really?!” She lit up, arms wrapping around Wonyoung tightly as a bright, disbelieving laugh bubbled out of her.
She squealed, lifting Wonyoung slightly off the ground, spinning her without thinking.
Wonyoung let out a startled laugh, clinging to her as the world blurred around them.
For a moment, there was nothing else.
Just this.
Yujin set her back down, still grinning, a little breathless.
Wonyoung laughed softly, the sound lingering between them.
Yujin rambled on breathlessly, eyes sparkling. “We could do so many cool things! We could go back to the market! There are so many stalls I haven’t shown you yet! We still haven’t tried the noodles—and oh! There’s this hidden alley with the cutest toys, I think you’ll love them! And the river’s actually really nice at sunset if you don’t fall in, and—and we could just hang out again and—oh”
Yujin stilled, glancing out at the horizon.
“Oh—wait,” she said, suddenly realizing. “It’s getting late.”
Wonyoung followed her gaze.
The sun had nearly set.
“…It is.” She whispered softly, eyes downcast.
Yujin didn’t seem to notice her tone. She just rubbed the back of her neck again, sheepish now. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to keep you out this long. You should probably be heading back, right?”
Wonyoung hesitated, eyes lingering on Yujin’s face.
Then nodded.
Slowly, they started their descent from the clocktower. Yujin leading the way, grasping Wonyoung’s hand.
And if Wonyoung held on a little tighter than she normally did, Yujin didn’t say a word.
The walk down went faster than Wonyoung wanted it to. She followed Yujin out the hidden entrance they came from, the older holding the plank up so Wonyoung could exit easily.
They stood in silence for a second, Wonyoung not letting go of Yujin’s hand.
“Can you get home okay?” Yujin asked softly, glancing at the girl who now wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Want me to walk you?”
Wonyoung shook her head. Still not meeting Yujin’s eyes.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I can get back on my own.”
Yujin frowned slightly. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
A pause.
Then, Yujin smiled, softer this time. “Okay. Just… be careful, alright?”
“I will.”
They lingered for a second longer.
Neither quite moving.
Then, Wonyoung slowly unfurled her fingers, letting go of Yujin’s hand.
She forced herself to turn away, and start walking.
“Hey!” Yujin called after her.
Wonyoung stilled.
Then, against her better judgement, glanced back.
Yujin waved, bright and easy, wide grin on her face.
“See you tomorrow!”
Wonyoung’s chest tightened.
But she smiled anyway.
How could she not?
When Yujin looked so endearing like this.
“…See you,” she whispered, then turned and walked back to the palace.