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The palace was never quiet, but it was always cold.
Servants moved like ghosts through its halls, their footsteps softened by thick carpets and their voices lowered to whispers that never quite reached the ears of those who mattered. Laughter existed here, but only in certain wings, behind certain doors, and always in the presence of those who were loved.
Riki had learned early on that he did not belong to any of those places.
He stood at the edge of the great hall, just beyond the golden columns that framed the royal dais, careful to remain in the shadows where he would not be noticed unless someone was looking for him. No one ever was, not unless they wanted something from him, and what they wanted was never kind.
The eldest four stood near the King and Queen, radiant in fine silks and jewels that caught the candlelight. They laughed easily, spoke confidently, and received every glance of admiration like it was their birthright. Perhaps it was. They were everything the kingdom adored. Legitimate, perfect, and chosen.
The others lingered farther back. There were too many of them to count at a glance, though Riki knew the number by heart. Twenty royal children. Twenty lives born into privilege, yet only a handful truly seen.
Most of them were ignored.
Riki was not.
He was hated.
“Why is he standing there?”
The Queen’s voice cut through the low hum of conversation with effortless precision. It was not loud, but it did not need to be. Every word she spoke carried authority sharpened by disdain.
Riki did not move at first. He had learned that sometimes stillness made him less noticeable, like prey pretending it was not worth the effort.
“Riki.”
That was the King this time. His voice was heavier, colder, and far less patient. Riki was always surprised that they’d never forgotten his name.
Riki stepped forward immediately, keeping his head lowered as he approached the dais. He stopped several paces away and bowed, careful not to lift his gaze.
“You were not summoned,” the King said.
“I understand, Your Majesty,” Riki replied.
“Then why are you here?”
There was no correct answer. There never was. Nothing he could say would make them happy. Riki knew that, but silence would only make it worse.
“I was told all royal children were to attend tonight’s gathering,” he said quietly.
A soft murmur rippled through the hall. Someone laughed under their breath.
The Queen let out a faint, humorless chuckle. “All royal children,” she repeated, as though the phrase itself was offensive.
Riki kept his expression blank. He had learned that showing anything, fear, hurt, anger, only invited more cruelty.
“You seem to misunderstand your position,” the King said.
Riki’s hands curled slightly at his sides, but he kept his voice steady. “I meant no disrespect.”
“That is all you ever bring,” the Queen muttered.
The words landed harder than any blow. Riki did not react. He couldn’t.
“Come closer,” the King ordered.
Riki obeyed.
The moment he stepped within reach, the King struck him.
The sound echoed through the hall, sharp and unmistakable. Riki staggered but did not fall. He straightened immediately, his cheek burning, his vision blurring for just a moment before he forced it back into focus.
No one moved. No one spoke.
This was not unusual.
“This is what happens,” the King said, his voice calm, almost bored, “when you forget your place.”
“I understand,” Riki said.
“Do you?” the Queen asked softly.
Riki did not answer. He knew better.
The Queen rose from her seat and descended the steps slowly, her gaze fixed on him with open distaste. She reached out and tilted his chin upward, forcing him to meet her eyes.
“You should be grateful you are even allowed to stand in this palace,” she said. “You are a stain on this family.”
Riki swallowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Her grip tightened slightly before she released him. “Leave. Your presence ruins the atmosphere.”
Riki bowed again, deeper this time, and turned away.
He did not look at his siblings as he walked. He did not need to. He already knew what he would not see.
He would see no worry, no care. Most of them wouldn’t even look at him twice.
That was the worst part. Not the hatred, not the blows, not the words. It was the way most of them simply did not care.
He left the hall without another word.
<<>><<>><<>><<>>
The corridors were quieter, but the silence did not feel like peace. It felt like emptiness, like something hollow stretching endlessly in every direction.
Riki walked without thinking, his steps carrying him farther from the main wing of the palace and into the neglected corridors where fewer servants passed. This was where he spent most of his time. It was easier that way.
No expectations. No attention.
No reminders of what he was not.
He reached his room and closed the door behind him. The space was small compared to the chambers of his siblings, but it was more than enough. A bed, a table, a narrow window. Nothing extravagant, nothing personal.
Nothing that could be taken from him.
He sat down slowly, pressing his fingers against his cheek where the pain still lingered. It would bruise by morning. It always did.
Riki stared at the wall for a long time.
He tried not to think. Thinking made everything worse.
But the words did not leave him.
You are a stain.
You forget your place.
You only bring disrespect.
And then, quieter but heavier than all the rest, You would only have value if the others were gone.
Riki exhaled slowly. At first, he had thought the King did not mean it. That it was just another cruel thing said in anger, another way to remind him of his worthlessness.
But the more he thought about it, the more it settled into something else. Something sharp. Something clear.
Value.
Use.
A purpose.
If his existence was a burden, then perhaps it was because he had not made himself necessary.
Riki lowered his hand from his cheek.
“If they were gone,” he murmured to himself, “then I would matter.”
The thought should have frightened him.
It did not.
For the first time in a long while, something inside him felt steady.
Decided.
Not once had any of them defended him. They’d never saved him, and the bolder of his siblings had even tormented him when they were younger.
He stood.
The palace was quiet by the time he slipped out. The guards at this hour were fewer, and the paths he took were ones he had memorized long ago, not for escape, but for solitude.
He did not take much with him. There was not much to take.
A cloak. A small pouch of food. A dagger he was not supposed to have.
Riki paused only once, at the edge of the palace grounds. He turned back, looking up at the towering structure that had defined his entire life.
It did not feel like home.
It never had.
He couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t done this sooner.
“I won’t come back the same,” he said quietly.
He pulled the hood over his head and stepped into the darkness.
He did not hesitate.
He did not look back again.
<<>><<>><<>><<>>
The world beyond the palace did not care who Riki had been.
It did not bow to him. It did not soften for him. It did not even notice him.
The first night, he walked until his legs threatened to give out. The second day, hunger set in. By the third, the thin cloak he had taken from his room no longer felt like enough against the wind that swept across the open roads.
He had never realized how loud the outside world was. The rustling of trees, the distant cries of animals, the uneven rhythm of his own breathing, it all pressed in on him, unfamiliar and relentless.
There were no servants here. No guards. No walls to keep danger out. But those walls had never kept the danger out, only locked him in with it.
Riki did not stop.
If he stopped, he would have to think. If he thought too much, he might turn back. That was the only thing he could not allow.
By the fourth day, his steps had slowed, but his resolve had not.
He had heard stories long before he ever needed them. Whispers carried through the palace halls, spoken in hushed tones by servants who thought no one important was listening.
There was a name they always spoke carefully.
Sim Jaeyun.
The leader of a band of outlaws. A criminal. A traitor. The King’s greatest enemy.
The only person in the kingdom who had ever managed to strike fear into the royal court.
That was who Riki was looking for.
<<>><<>><<>><<>>
It did not take long for someone to find him.
Riki knew the moment he was no longer alone. The air shifted in a way that was subtle but unmistakable. There was a presence around him now, quiet but deliberate.
He kept walking.
A branch snapped somewhere behind him and Riki stopped.
“Following me is a poor decision,” a voice called from the trees.
Riki turned slowly.
Figures emerged from the forest, one by one, until he was surrounded. They moved with ease, like they belonged to the wild in a way he never could. Their clothes were worn but practical, their weapons visible and ready.
Bandits. Outlaws.
Riki did not reach for the dagger at his side. He knew better. This was a fight he could not win.
“Well,” another voice said, amused, “this is interesting.”
A tall figure stepped forward, arms crossed, eyes scanning Riki with open curiosity. “You’re either very brave or very stupid.”
“Neither,” Riki replied.
A few of them laughed.
“That so?” the first voice asked.
Riki met their gaze without flinching. “I’m here on purpose.”
That earned him silence.
For a moment, no one moved. Then, from behind the others, someone stepped forward.
The shift was immediate. The others parted without being told.
Riki knew, without needing to be told, that this was him.
Jaeyun.
He did not look like a monster. That was the first thing Riki noticed. He looked calm. Observant. Dangerous in a way that was controlled, not reckless.
Jaeyun stopped a few steps away, studying him.
“You don’t look like someone who belongs out here,” Jaeyun said.
“I don’t,” Riki replied.
Jaeyun’s gaze sharpened slightly. “And yet, here you are.”
“I was looking for you.”
A murmur spread through the group.
Jaeyun tilted his head, just a fraction. “Most people try very hard not to find me.”
“I’m not most people.”
Jaeyun let out a quiet breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “Clearly.”
His eyes flicked over Riki’s clothes, the way he stood, the way he spoke. Nothing about this situation made sense, and that seemed to interest him more than it concerned him.
“So,” Jaeyun said, “what does a lost noble want with me?”
“I’m not lost.”
Jaeyun raised an eyebrow. “Then explain.”
Riki did not hesitate. “I need your help taking the kingdom.”
The forest went completely still. For a second, it felt like even the wind had stopped.
Then someone behind Jaeyun laughed, loud and disbelieving. Another joined in. Within moments, several of them were laughing openly.
Jaeyun did not.
He kept his eyes on Riki.
“That’s a bold request,” Jaeyun said. “You walked into the territory of people your kind calls criminals, and that’s what you lead with?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Riki held his gaze. “Because you’re the only one who can do it.”
That answer landed.
Jaeyun’s expression did not change, but something in his posture shifted. Interest, sharper now. “And what makes you think I’d want to?”
“Because you already do,” Riki said. “You’ve been fighting them for years. I’m offering you a way to win.”
Jaeyun was quiet for a moment.
“Or,” someone cut in, stepping closer, “he’s lying. Maybe he’s a spy. Maybe we should just get rid of him.”
A few of the others murmured in agreement.
Riki did not look away from Jaeyun. “If I were a spy, I wouldn’t come alone.”
“That’s true,” Jaeyun said.
“But that doesn’t mean you’re not a problem,” the same voice from before argued.
Jaeyun lifted a hand slightly, and the others fell silent.
“Who are you?” Jaeyun asked.
Riki hesitated. He could lie. It would be safer, easier.
But that would defeat the purpose of everything he had come here to do.
“I’m the King’s youngest son,” he said.
That got a reaction. Weapons shifted and a few people took a step forward.
Jaeyun did not move.
“Say that again,” he said, more quietly this time.
“I’m his son,” Riki repeated. “His youngest.”
Jaeyun studied him for a long moment. “You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t care if you believe it,” Riki said. “I’m telling you the truth.”
“Then prove it.”
Riki pulled the collar of his shirt aside, exposing the family crest branded onto his chest. It was the only instance of his father actually acknowledging Riki as part of the family, and the design was so intricate it was impossible to fake. Riki knew Jaeyun knew that, too.
“They hate me,” he said. “The Queen, the King, most of the court. I wasn’t supposed to exist. The only reason I’m still alive is because of a law that forced him to keep me until I turn eighteen.”
Jaeyun’s gaze flickered, just slightly. “And how old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
There was something in the way Jaeyun looked at him then. It wasn’t pity, not yet, but something closer than understanding.
“And let me guess,” Jaeyun said, “you decided to come here and ask me to destroy your own family.”
“They’re not my family,” Riki said.
That was the first time his voice shifted. It was still controlled, but there was something underneath it now. Something sharp.
Jaeyun noticed.
“Why?” he asked.
Riki’s jaw tightened. “Because he told me I’d only be useful if the others were dead.”
The words settled between them.
For the first time since Riki had arrived, no one laughed.
Jaeyun’s expressions changed, just enough to matter.
“And you believed him,” he said.
Riki met his gaze. “I understood him.”
Jaeyun exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair as he looked away for a moment, as if considering something.
When he looked back, his decision was already made.
“You’re either the best liar I’ve ever met,” Jaeyun said, “or the most dangerous person in this forest.”
“I’m not lying.”
“I know,” Jaeyun said.
That seemed to surprise even his own people.
“You’re serious,” one of them said.
Jaeyun nodded slightly. “He is.”
“And you’re just going to trust him.”
Jaeyun’s lips curved faintly, not quite a smile. “No.”
He stepped closer to Riki. “I’m going to test him.”
Riki did not move. Jaeyun stopped just within arm’s reach, his gaze steady.
“If you stay,” Jaeyun said, “you follow my rules. You earn your place. You don’t get special treatment just because of who you are.”
“I don’t want it.”
“Good,” Jaeyun said. “Because you won’t get it.”
There was a pause.
“And if I decide you’re a liability,” Jaeyun continued, his voice calm, “I won’t hesitate to get rid of you.”
“I understand.”
Jaeyun held his gaze for another second before stepping back.
“Then welcome to the worst decision of your life,” he said.
Riki almost smiled.
<<>><<>><<>><<>>
That night, for the first time since leaving the palace, Riki slept without fear of being dragged from his bed.
It should have felt wrong.
Instead, it felt like the beginning of something.
<<>><<>><<>><<>>
The first time Riki picked up a sword in the rebel camp, he nearly dropped it.
It was heavier than it looked, the weight uneven in his grip. His hands, though not soft, were untrained, and the metal felt unfamiliar in a way that made him immediately aware of how unprepared he truly was.
Someone laughed behind him.
“Careful, prince,” one of the rebels said. “Wouldn’t want you hurting yourself.”
Riki ignored them.
He adjusted his grip, tightening his fingers around the hilt, and tried again. This time, he managed to hold it steady, though the strain was obvious.
“Your stance is wrong.”
Riki turned.
Jaeyun stood a few paces away, watching him with an expression that was neither mocking nor impressed. It was simply observant.
Riki straightened slightly. “Then show me.”
Jaeyun stepped forward without hesitation.
He moved behind Riki, close enough that Riki could feel the shift of air as he reached out and adjusted his arms.
“Your balance is off,” Jaeyun said. “You’re holding tension in the wrong places.”
Riki focused on his words, forcing himself not to react to the proximity.
“Relax your shoulders,” Jaeyun continued. “If you stay stiff, you’ll be slow.”
Riki exhaled and tried to follow the instruction.
“Better,” Jaeyun said. “Now move.”
Riki stepped forward and swung.
It was clumsy and inefficient. Jaeyun stopped the blade easily with his own.
“Again,” Jaeyun said.
They repeated the motion again and again. By the time Jaeyun finally told him to stop, Riki’s arms ached, his hands trembled slightly, and sweat clung to his skin.
“You’re not completely hopeless,” Jaeyun said.
Riki glanced at him. “That sounds like an insult.”
“Never said it wasn’t,” Jaeyun replied with what looked almost like a smile.
Riki huffed a quiet breath, something that almost resembled amusement.
That was new.
<<>><<>><<>><<>>
The days settled into a rhythm.
Riki trained in the mornings until his muscles burned and his movements began to sharpen. He learned how to fight, how to move through the forest without making noise, how to read the subtle shifts in people’s expressions that revealed more than their words ever would.
In the afternoons, he listened.
Jaeyun spoke often with his people, not as a distant leader, but as someone who understood them. Plans were discussed openly, strategies debated. Nothing about it resembled the rigid structure of the palace.
It was chaotic.
It was honest.
And slowly, Riki began to understand why they followed him.
“You’re staring.”
Riki blinked and looked away. “I wasn’t.”
Jaeyun raised an eyebrow. “You were.”
Riki did not respond.
They were sitting near the edge of the camp, the fire between them burning low as the rest of the group settled in for the night. The air was quieter now, filled with the occasional murmur of conversation and the crackle of wood.
“You’re thinking too much,” Jaeyun said.
“That’s not a crime.”
“It is if it’ll get you killed.”
Riki glanced at him. “I thought you said I wasn’t completely hopeless.”
“I also said you’re untrained,” Jaeyun replied. “Both things can be true.”
Riki leaned back slightly, his gaze drifting toward the fire.
“I’m learning,” he said.
Jaeyun studied him for a moment.
“You are,” he agreed. “Faster than I expected?”
Riki raised an eyebrow. “That surprises you?”
“A little,” Jaeyun admitted. “Most people in your position wouldn’t last a week out here.”
“I’m not most people.”
Jaeyun’s lips curved faintly. “You’ve said that before. You’re surprisingly resilient.”
Riki did not respond, but there was no tension in his silence this time.
There was something else.
Something easier.
<<>><<>><<>><<>>
Not everyone in the camp warmed to him.
Riki noticed the way some of them watched him when they thought he wasn’t looking. The suspicion had not faded entirely. To them, he was still a prince, still a symbol of everything they had fought against.
He did not blame them.
Trust was not something he had ever been given freely. He did not expect it now.
So he earned it.
He worked harder than he needed to. He took on tasks no one wanted. He did not complain, even when exhaustion settled deep into his bones.
It was not about proving himself to them.
It was about proving something to himself.
“You don’t have to do that.”
Riki looked up from where he was hauling a stack of firewood.
Jaeyun stood nearby, arms crossed.
“I know,” Riki said. “I’m choosing to.”
Jaeyun watched him for a moment before stepping forward and taking part of the load without asking.
They carried it together in silence.
It was a small thing.
But it mattered more than it should have.
<<>><<>><<>><<>>
The first time they struck the kingdom, Riki did not hesitate.
It was not an attack on the palace. Not yet. It was smaller, strategic. A supply route. Guards stationed along the road, expecting nothing more than routine.
Jaeyun had explained the plan in detail.
“We move fast,” he said. “No unnecessary risks. We take what we need and leave before reinforcements arrive.”
Riki nodded. He understood.
Understanding it and standing there, waiting for the signal, were two very different things.
His heart pounded, but his hands were steady.
Jaeyun glanced at him. “Still sure about this?”
“Yes.”
Jaeyun held his gaze for a moment longer before nodding once. “Stay close,” he said.
“I will.”
The signal came and everything moved at once.
Riki followed.
The world narrowed to motion and instinct. The clash of steel, the shouts of guards caught off guard, the sharp rush of adrenaline that drowned out everything else.
Someone came at him and Riki reacted.
It was not perfect or even clean, but it was enough. He blocked, shifted, and struck.
The guard fell.
Riki stood there for half a second, staring.
Then Jaeyun’s voice cut through the chaos. “Riki!”
Riki moved again.
By the time it was over, it felt like no time had passed at all.
The rebels regrouped quickly, gathering supplies and disappearing back into the forest before anyone could respond.
Only when they were far enough away did the tension begin to ease.
Riki slowed, his breathing uneven now that it was over.
Jaeyun stepped in front of him. “Are you hurt?”
Riki shook his head. “No.”
Jaeyun’s eyes flicked over him anyway, checking.
“You did well,” he said.
Riki blinked. It was such a simple statement. It shouldn’t have mattered.
It did.
“Thank you,” Riki said quietly.
Jaeyun nodded once, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
<<>><<>><<>><<>>
That night, the camp was louder than usual.
There was laughter, relief, the shared energy of a plan that had worked.
Riki sat slightly apart from the others, not out of isolation, but because he needed a moment to think.
He had done it.
He had struck the kingdom, his parents.
He had taken something from them.
And yet, the feeling he expected, satisfaction, triumph, did not come the way he thought it would.
It was quieter.
More complicated.
“You’re thinking again.”
Riki looked up. Jaeyun sat down beside him, close enough that their shoulders almost touched.
“I was,” Riki admitted.
Jaeyun leaned back slightly, his gaze on the fire. “Regretting it?”
Riki shook his head. “No.”
“Good.”
There was a pause.
“It didn’t feel the way I thought it would,” Riki said.
Jaeyun glanced at him. “What did you expect?”
“I don’t know,” Riki admitted. “Something… more.”
Jaeyun was quiet for a moment.
“It’s not about one moment,” he said. “It’s about what comes after.”
Riki considered that.
“What comes after?” he asked.
Jaeyun’s expression shifted, just slightly. “That depends on you,” he said.
Riki held his gaze. There was something there now, something unspoken but undeniable. It had been building slowly, in quiet moments and shared glances, in trust that neither of them had expected to give.
Riki looked away first. “Then I won’t stop here,” he said.
Jaeyun’s voice was softer when he answered, “I didn’t think you would.”
<<>><<>><<>><<>>
Later that night, long after the fire had burned low and most of the camp had fallen asleep, Riki found himself awake.
The forest was quiet.
For once, his thoughts were not filled with the palace or with his father or with the words that had driven him here.
They were somewhere else.
Someone shifted nearby and Riki glanced over.
Jaeyun.
He was not asleep.
Their eyes met in the dim light, but neither of them spoke. They did not need to.
Something had changed.
And neither of them was pretending otherwise.
<<>><<>><<>><<>>
The palace looked smaller than Riki remembered.
It still towered over the city, its walls high and its banners untouched by time, but something about it had changed. Or maybe he had.
Riki stood at the edge of the forest, the same place he had once stood as a boy with nothing but a cloak and a decision.
Now, he stood with any army.
“They haven’t noticed yet,” someone behind him said.
“They will,” Jaeyun replied.
Riki did not take his eyes off the palace.
For years, it had been everything. A prison. A cage. A place where he had learned exactly how little he meant to the people he’d been around all his life.
Now it was a target.
“Are you ready?” Jaeyun asked.
Riki exhaled slowly. “Yes.”
Jaeyun studied him for a moment, as if searching for hesitation. He did not find any.
“Then we move.”
<<>><<>><<>><<>>
The plan had been carefully built over weeks.
They would not storm the gates blindly. They would break the structure from within, dismantle the defenses before the palace even realized what was happening.
Small groups moved first, slipping into the city under the cover of early dawn. They spread quietly, cutting off supply lines, disabling communication routes, and eliminating key guard posts.
By the time the alarm was raised, it was already too late.
Chaos spread quickly.
Riki moved with Jaeyun at his side, navigating the streets he had once known so well. The city looked different from this angle. Less distant. More real.
People were watching.
Some ran. Some hid. Some simply stared.
None of them recognized him.
That did not bother him the way it once would have. It also meant his “family” hadn’t bothered looking for him. No missing posters were put up for him.
“Stay focused,” Jaeyun said.
“I am.”
They reached the palace just as the first wave of guards rushed forward.
This time, Riki did not hesitate.
<<>><<>><<>><<>>
The fighting was louder here.
Steel clashed against steel, voices shouted over one another, and the air filled with tension that bordered on overwhelming.
But Riki did not falter.
He moved with purpose, each step deliberate, each strike controlled. He was not the same boy who had once stood in these halls, waiting to be told where he belonged.
He knew exactly where he stood now, beside Jaeyun, at the front.
They broke through the gates.
The inside of the palace was just as Riki remembered. The same towering ceilings. The same polished floors. The same suffocating sense of order that had once dictated every moment of his life.
Servants scattered at the sight of them. Guards attempted to regroup, but their formation was already fractured.
Riki did not stop moving.
“Where?” Jaeyun asked.
“The throne room,” Riki said.
Everything led there.
It always had.
The doors were thrown silent and the room fell silent.
The court had gathered in haste, nobles and advisors filling the space with confusion and fear. Guards lined the edges, though there were fewer of them than there should have been.
At the center, seated on the throne, were the King and Queen.
For a moment, no one spoke. Then Riki stepped forward.
Recognition came slowly. Confusion first, then disbelief, then something darker.
“You,” the Queen sneered.
Her voice had not changed.
Riki stopped at the base of the steps. “Yes,” he said.
The King rose to his feet, his expression hardening as he took in the scene. The intruders. The weapons. Jaeyun standing at Riki’s side.
“You dare return here?” the King demanded.
Riki tilted his head slightly. “Return?” he echoed. “That implies I was ever meant to stay.”
A murmur spread through the court.
The King’s gaze sharpened. “You are nothing,” he said. “You always have been.”
The words did not land the way they once did.
Riki felt them, but they did not cut.
“They why does this threaten you?” Riki asked calmly, holding his sword higher.
The King did not answer.
“Seize him,” the Queen ordered.
The guards hesitated and that was all it took.
Jaeyun moved first. The rebels followed.
The room erupted into motion once more, but it was not chaos this time. It was controlled. Precise.
Riki did not join the fight immediately.
He walked. Step by step, he ascended the stairs toward the throne.
The King met him halfway.
“You think this changes anything?” the King said, drawing his weapon. “You think this makes you worthy?”
Riki stopped in front of him. “I don’t need to be worthy,” he said. “I just need to win.”
The King struck and Riki blocked. The impact rang through his arms, but he held his ground.
They moved again.
This fight was different from the others. It was not about survival. It was not about proving himself to anyone else.
It was personal.
The King was stronger. More experienced. But Riki was faster, and he had learned something the King never had to.
He had learned how to fight with nothing to lose.
The moment came quickly. A misstep. A shift. An opening.
Riki took it.
The King fell.
Silence followed.
Riki stood there, his chest rising and falling steadily as he looked down at the man who had defined so much of his life.
Riki raised his sword, pouring every ounce of his hatred into his movements. The King tried so hard to keep himself together, but when he met Riki’s eyes, something in them must have given away what Riki was thinking, because his eyes widened and finally, finally, showed some fear.
Riki brought his sword down straight through his father’s chest.
There was a moment where the King attempted to speak, but Riki twisted the blade and the man was silenced by a scream of pain.
Riki ripped the blade out and watched blankly as the man who had tormented him his entire life bled out in front of him.
He waited for something.
Relief, satisfaction, closure.
What he felt instead was… quiet.
It was over.
He looked up. The Queen stood frozen, eyes widened in terror as she stared at her husband’s dying body, her composure cracked for the first time.
“You… you would kill your own blood?” she gasped, horrified.
Riki met her gaze. “I was told that the only way I would ever reach the throne is if all of you were gone. So I’m giving you exactly what you didn’t want.”
He turned away from her.
With her husband dead, she was no longer important.
The room had stilled the moment he drove his sword into his father.
The fighting had ended.
Everyone was watching him now.
Riki stepped forward and turned, facing the court, the nobles, the people who had once decided his worth without ever knowing him.
“I was never meant to stand here,” he said.
No one interrupted.
“I was never going to matter to you people.”
His voice did not rise, but it carried.
“So, I figured, if you won’t respect me,” he continued. “Then I’d make you.”
He smiled wickedly. “I was taught that worth, in this place, is decided by power.”
He paused.
“So I took it.”
The words settled heavily over the room.
Riki turned and looked at the throne, then down at his father’s body. The golden crown on his father’s head glinted in the candlelight.
He leaned down and ripped the crown off his head.
For a moment, he simply stood there.
Then he sat.
The weight of it was real, solid, unavoidable.
He did not feel like a boy anymore. He did not feel like a mistake.
He felt… certain.
Riki lifted his gaze and the entire court watched in disbelief as he set his stolen crown on his own head.
“This kingdom will not remain the same,” he said. “Not under me.”
No one argued.
No one dared.
<<>><<>><<>><<>>
Later, when the hall had emptied and the noise had faded into something distant, Riki remained where he was.
The throne no longer felt unfamiliar.
It felt… complicated.
“You’re quiet.”
Riki looked up. Jaeyun stood at the base of the steps, his expression unreadable.
Riki exhaled softly. “It’s done.”
Jaeyun nodded. “It is.”
There was a pause.
Riki studied him. “And now?”
Jaeyun held his gaze. “Now,” he said, “you decide what kind of king you’re going to be.”
Riki leaned back slightly, considering that. For so long, everything had been about getting here. He had not let himself think beyond it.
“I don’t want to be like him,” Riki said.
Jaeyun stepped closer. “Then don’t be,” he replied.
Riki let out a quiet breath, something in his chest easing just slightly.
Jaeyun stopped beside him, close enough that the distance between them felt intentional rather than uncertain.
“You didn’t do this alone,” Jaeyun said.
Riki shook his head. “No.” His gaze softened, just a fraction. “I didn’t.”
Something passed between them then, unspoken but clear.
Not obligation, not strategy.
Choice.
Riki looked forward again, his voice quieter this time. “Stay,” he said.
It was not an order. Jaeyun understood that.
He did not answer immediately.
Then, after a moment, he stepped closer.
“I was planning to,” he said.
<<>><<>><<>><<>>
The kingdom did not settle overnight.
Power changed hands in a single day, but everything beneath it shifted slowly, unevenly, like the aftermath of a storm that had not fully passed.
The palace was quieter now.
Not empty, but different.
The laughter that once echoed through its halls was gone, replaced by cautious voices and measured steps. Servants still moved through the corridors, but they no longer looked past Riki like he was something to be avoided.
Now, they bowed.
It felt strange.
Riki stood at the edge of the throne room, looking out over the space that had once defined his place in the world.
He remembered standing at the sides, unseen unless he was being called forward to be reminded of his worth.
Now, there were no sides left for him to stand in.
Everything led to him.
“Your Majesty.”
Riki did not turn immediately.
He had not grown used to the title. He was not sure he ever would.
“Yes?” he replied.
The advisors hesitated before stepping closer. “There are matters that require your attention.”
There always were.
Riki nodded. “Bring them to me.”
The advisor bowed and left. Riki exhaled quietly.
The throne had been the goal. The answer. The thing that would prove, once and for all, that he was not worthless.
But now that he had it, the question had changed.
What came after proving it?
<<>><<>><<>><<>>
He did not sit on the throne right away.
Instead, he walked through the palace.
Not as someone hiding in its corners, but as someone seeing it clearly for the first time.
He passed the grand halls where his siblings had once gathered, the gardens where he had never been invited, the corridors where whispers had followed him like shadows.
Some of his siblings remained.
Not the eldest four. They had not stayed to face what came after.
The others lingered, uncertain, watching him with expressions that ranged from fear to something closer to regret.
Riki stopped when one of them stepped forward.
“You’re really going to rule?” they asked.
Riki studied them for a moment.
“I already am,” he said.
The answer seemed to unsettle them.
“You’re not… going to do the same thing?” they asked carefully. “You’re not going to treat us the way they treated you?”
Riki held their gaze. He thought about it.
Not in the way they feared, but in the way that forced him to confront what kind of person he wanted to be now that he had the power to choose.
“No,” he said.
The word was simple. Final.
Something in their expressions shifted. Not relief, exactly, but something close to it.
Riki did not wait for them to respond. He moved past them and kept walking.
<<>><<>><<>><<>>
He found Jaeyun in the courtyard.
He was not surrounded by guards or advisors. He stood near the edge of the stone path, watching the training grounds where a few of the former rebels sparred with palace soldiers.
It was an uneasy mix, but it was working.
Slowly.
Riki stepped closer.
“You’re avoiding the throne room,” he said.
Jaeyun glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at his expression. “I could say the same about you.”
Riki exhaled softly. “I was thinking.”
“That’s dangerous.”
“So I’ve been told.”
They stood in silence for a moment, watching the movement in the courtyard.
“They listen to you,” Jaeyun said after a while.
Riki frowned slightly. “They have to.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Jaeyun replied. “They’re choosing to.”
Riki considered that.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted.
It was the first time he had said it out loud. Jaeyun did not seem surprised.
“Of course you don’t,” he said. “No one does at the start.”
Riki glanced at him. “That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s not supposed to be,” Jaeyun said. “It’s honest.”
Riki huffed a quiet breath.
“I don’t want to rule the way he did,” he said. “I don’t want fear to be the only thing holding this together.”
“Then don’t let it be,” Jaeyun said.
“It’s not that simple.”
Jaeyun turned to face him fully.
“No,” he agreed. “It’s not. But you’ve already done the hardest part.”
Riki raised an eyebrow. “Taking the throne?”
Jaeyun shook his head. “Deciding you weren’t going to be what they made you,” he said.
Riki went quiet.
The words settled somewhere deeper than he expected.
For so long, everything had been about proving them wrong.
But maybe that was not the same thing as deciding who he actually was.
<<>><<>><<>><<>>
The days that followed were not easy.
Riki listened more than he spoke. He questioned decisions that would have once been made without thought. He refused to punish without reason, even when it would have been faster.
Some people resisted, some doubted. But others began to believe.
Not in the power he held, but in the way he chose to use it.
It was not perfect.
It never would be.
But it was different.
<<>><<>><<>><<>>
It was late when Riki finally returned to the throne room.
The palace had quieted again, the night settling into its walls like something familiar but no longer oppressive.
He walked up the steps slowly, his gaze fixed on the throne.
This time, when he sat, it did not feel like a victory.
It felt like a responsibility.
“You’re getting used to it.”
Riki looked up. Jaeyun stood in the doorway, his presence as steady as it had always been.
“Maybe,” Riki said.
Jaeyun stepped inside, the sound of his footsteps echoing softly in the empty hall. “You don’t look like you hate it anymore,” he observed.
“I don’t,” Riki admitted. “I just don’t think it’s mine alone.”
Jaeyun stopped a few steps away. Riki met his gaze.
“I meant what I said,” Riki continued. “Before. When I asked you to stay.”
Jaeyun studied him carefully.
“I know,” he said.
Riki stood, stepping down from the throne.
“I don’t need someone to follow me,” he said. “I don’t want that.”
Jaeyun did not interrupt.
“I want someone who chooses this,” Riki continued. “Who chooses me. Not because of the crown. Not because of what I can give them.”
He stopped in front of him.
“Because they want to be here.”
The space between them felt smaller now, more certain.
Jaeyun’s expression softened, just slightly. “You think I’m here for the crown?” he asked.
Riki shook his head. “No.”
“Good,” Jaeyun said. “Because I’ve never cared about it.”
Riki’s lips curved faintly. “I didn’t think you did.”
There was a pause.
Then Jaeyun stepped closer. “I’m here because of you,” he said.
The words were simple.
Honest.
Riki felt something in his chest shift, something steady and warm in a way that had nothing to do with power or revenge.
“For someone who started this by asking me to help destroy a kingdom,” Jaeyun added quietly, “you turned out to be… different than I expected.”
Riki let out a soft breath. “You agreed.”
“I did,” Jaeyun said. “I don’t regret it.”
Neither did Riki. Not anymore.
“Then stay,” Riki said again.
This time, it was not uncertain.
Jaeyun held his gaze for a moment longer before nodding.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.
<<>><<>><<>><<>>
The ceremony was not grand.
Riki did not want it to be.
There were no excessive displays, no forced celebrations designed to convince the kingdom of something that needed time to become real.
But there were witnesses. There was acknowledgment. And there was choice.
Riki stood before the court, no longer as someone being judged, but as someone who had already made his place undeniable.
Jaeyun stood beside him. Not behind, not below.
There were murmurs, of course. There always would be. Change was never quiet.
But no one spoke it.
Not openly.
Riki did not need them to understand it yet.
He only needed them to see it.
<<>><<>><<>><<>>
That night, the palace did not feel cold.
The walls were the same, the halls were the same.
But something fundamental had shifted.
Riki stood by the window in his chambers, looking out over the kingdom that was now his to protect, not to survive.
Jaeyun stepped up beside him.
“Regretting it?” he asked.
Riki shook his head.
“No,” he said.
He meant it.
For the first time, the future did not feel like something he had to endure.
It felt like something he could shape.
Riki glanced at Jaeyun, his voice quieter now. “I thought becoming king would be the moment everything made sense.”
Jaeyun raised an eyebrow. “And?”
Riki looked back out at the city. “It wasn’t,” he said. “This is.”
Jaeyun followed his gaze, then looked back at him.
“Good,” he said.
Riki let the silence settle between them, but it was no longer empty. It was steady. Certain.
He was not the unwanted prince anymore.
He was not the mistake they had tried to ignore.
He was not alone.
And that made all the difference.