Chapter Text
The atmosphere in the South Korea Royal Palace was suffocatingly formal, and Euijoo, despite being the Crown Prince, was currently in the middle of a private, indignant sulk. He sat behind his ornate mahogany desk, his posture perfect but his expression pouting. He hadn't bothered to look up the Taiwanese Princess. If he was going to be forced into a marriage, he preferred to be surprised—or better yet, he preferred to pretend it wasn't happening until the very last second.
Suddenly, a soft thud echoed from the balcony.
Euijoo didn't look up, assuming it was a palace guard performing a routine security check. "I told you, no one is allowed in the study today," he muttered, his voice dripping with that refined, royal irritation he reserved for everyone except his closest friends.
"Is that any way to greet your guest?"
The voice was deep, smooth, and laced with an amusement that made the hair on the back of Euijoo’s neck stand up. Euijoo froze, his eyes narrowing as he turned his chair slowly.
Standing on the edge of his private balcony, framed by the setting sun, was a man wearing a charcoal-grey, modern suit—far too casual for the palace dress code. He wasn't a guard. His hair was perfectly styled, and he leaned against the stone railing with an effortless, almost dangerous grace.
"You're..." Euijoo started, his heart stuttering, but the man didn't give him a chance to finish.
The stranger walked a step closer, his eyes scanning Euijoo from head to toe with a boldness that made the Korean Prince flush—not from shyness, but from pure, indignant shock.
"They told me Joseon-hae Crown Prince was perfect," the stranger mused, a slow, devilish smirk tugging at his lips. "But the reports didn't do you justice. You’re much better looking in person."
Euijoo’s jaw dropped. Before he could find the words to reprimand this brazen intruder, a frantic voice echoed from the palace courtyard below.
"Your Highness! Where are you? The King is waiting!"
The stranger didn't look bothered. He simply turned toward the voice, threw a casual, playful wave back toward the courtyard, and then pinned his gaze back on Euijoo. His eyes crinkled in a flirtatious, knowing smile.
"See you soon, fiancé," Nicholas winked.
In one fluid motion, he turned and vaulted back over the balcony rail, disappearing into the shadows of the royal gardens as if he were a phantom.
"Hey! Wait!" Euijoo finally snapped out of his shock, shoving his chair back and rushing toward the window, his composure completely shattered. He looked down, but the balcony was empty. The grass below was barely swaying.
Knock, knock. The sudden knock on his office door made Euijoo jump.
"Your Highness?" Fuma stepped inside, his expression serious and professional. He stopped, noticing the slightly disheveled state of the Prince—the way Euijoo’s hair was a mess from where he’d been pulling at it, and the way he was breathing heavily by the window.
Fuma sighed, already guessing that his master had been having one of his ‘moments’. He stepped forward, smoothing out Euijoo’s silk sleeves.
"Your Highness, please. You need to compose yourself. The King and the Formosa-nien, Taiwanese Royal Families are waiting in the meeting hall. We have to go now."
Euijoo stared at the door, then back at the window, his face a mixture of bewilderment, rage, and a strange, lingering heat in his chest. Who was that man? A wall-climbing, flirtatious nightmare?
"Fuma," Euijoo breathed, his voice trembling with a mix of fury and disbelief. "Do you have any idea what just happened?"
"I'm sure it was nothing, Your Highness," Fuma said firmly, guiding him toward the door. "But right now, you have a reputation to uphold. No sulking. Chin up. Let’s go meet your fiancé."
Euijoo gritted his teeth, his inner sensitive, sulking man screaming at him to lock the door and never come out, but his perfect Prince mask snapped back into place.
"Fine," Euijoo muttered, straightening his jacket. "But if he tries that again, I am going to have him arrested for trespassing."
Fuma just offered a knowing, tired smile. "Let’s see if you still feel that way in ten minutes, Your Highness."
.
The Great Hall was draped in soft, ambient lighting, the air smelling faintly of cedarwood and traditional incense. Euijoo moved with a grace that was almost robotic, his modern hanbok—a deep, royal navy with silver thread embroidery—rustling softly as he took his place beside his parents.
"Crown Prince Euijoo," the King whispered, his tone firm but not unkind. "This is a pivotal moment for our dynasty. You have trained your entire life for this. Maintain your composure, stay grounded, and do not let the weight of the cameras or the tension of the merger cloud your judgment. It is a family meeting, nothing more."
Euijoo offered a polished, serene smile. "Yes, Your Highness." Inside, however, he was vibrating with a mixture of suppressed frustration and curiosity about the man who had dared to scale his balcony.
Then, the heavy oak doors opened.
The Taiwanese Royal Families entered with an air of relaxed confidence that immediately shifted the atmosphere of the room. The King and Queen of Taiwan led the way, looking sharp and contemporary in tailored, high-fashion suits. Following them was a stunning young woman with a graceful, poised demeanor—Euijoo’s eyes lingered on her for a split second, his heart sinking slightly. So, that’s her, he thought. She looks... traditional. Perhaps this won't be as bad as I feared.
And then, he stepped into view.
The intruder. He was wearing a charcoal-grey suit that fit him with an infuriating perfection. His hair was slightly tousled, and he looked entirely at ease, his presence commanding the space without even trying. Euijoo felt a sharp sting of jealousy—not just because the man was handsome, but because he looked so effortlessly cool, while Euijoo felt like he was suffocating under the weight of his own royal expectations.
As their eyes locked, the wicked, mocking smirk from the balcony was gone. Instead, he offered a soft, polite, and deeply disarming smile. It was a look of pure, calculated charm.
The families took their seats. Euijoo sat stiffly, his hands folded in his lap. Beside him sat his older sister, the Princess, who leaned over to whisper, "He’s quite striking, isn't he? Try not to stare."
Euijoo snapped his head toward her, eyes wide, before looking back at the Taiwanese King.
The formalities began. The King of Joseon-hae, South Korea, introduced the royal family with practiced, rhythmic ease. Then, the King of Formosa-nien, Taiwan, stood, his voice booming with a warm, business-like authority.
"Here is," the Taiwanese King said, gesturing toward his daughter, "my daughter. And last but certainly not least..." He placed a hand on the shoulder of the man sitting at the end of the table. "This is Prince Nicholas, Formosa-nien 79th descendant, Crown Prince Euijoo’s fiancé."
The world seemed to tilt on its axis.
Euijoo’s breath hitched, caught firmly in his throat. His mind blanked, a single, deafening word echoing in his skull: MAN.
He got a Fiancé not Fiancée.
He turned his head slowly, his neck feeling stiff, to look at his father. The King was nodding, smiling as if this were the most natural thing in the world. He looked at his mother—she was beaming. He looked across the table at the Taiwanese King and Queen—they looked delighted.
Euijoo’s gaze darted to his sister, then to Fuma, who was standing at the edge of the room. Fuma’s face remained a mask of professional neutrality, though his eyes widened just a fraction, acknowledging the surprise—but he wasn't shocked.
They knew? Euijoo turned back to look at Nicholas, his face burning with a mixture of betrayal and absolute bewilderment. Nicholas was looking right at him, his expression one of polite, royal restraint, but there was a glint of pure, unadulterated mischief in his eyes. He leaned forward, just enough to be heard over the polite chatter of the parents.
"We didn't get a chance to finish our introduction earlier, Dear Fiancé," Nicholas murmured, his voice velvety and low. "I suppose the surprises are just beginning."
Euijoo sat frozen, his internal perfect prince persona crumbling into dust. He looked like he had just been hit by a runaway carriage. He was the only one in the room who looked like he’d just seen a ghost.
A man. My fiancée is a man. And he’s the one who was hanging off my balcony.
.
The silence that followed the King of Taiwan’s announcement was filled only by the refined clinking of fine cups as the royals poured tea. To the rest of the room, this was simply the continuation of a long-standing diplomatic agreement. To Euijoo, it was a slow-motion catastrophe.
Euijoo locked eyes with his father. The Korean King, usually the picture of stoic grace, offered a subtle, tight-lipped nod—a silent command for his son to hold his tongue and stay calm.
The two monarchs, sensing the shift in the room, seamlessly pivoted the conversation. They had already navigated the initial crisis of the ‘Same-Sex Engagement’ behind closed doors weeks ago, having spent hours in panicked private summits.
"The lineage and the vow are ancient," the Korean King said, his voice measured and deep, projecting an air of absolute authority to their guests. "The Accord of the Jade Seal mandates that the 79th descendants of Formosa-nien and 97th descendants of Joseon-hae be unified. In modern times, we interpret that not merely as a traditional marriage, but as a total alignment of power."
The King of Taiwan nodded in agreement. "Indeed. A partnership of equals. You shall lead together—a governance equivalent to a sovereign presidency and a vice-presidency. As for the matter of the royal line," he gestured dismissively, "we have reached a mutual understanding. Consorts will be brought in strictly for the purpose of succession, but the bond of the Crown will rest solely between your two Houses."
Euijoo felt a strange cocktail of emotions; relief that he wasn't being forced into an impossible domestic situation, followed immediately by a wave of crushing responsibility. He was to be a leader, not just a husband.
The two kings leaned back, satisfied with the solution. "You both turn twenty next year," the Korean King continued, looking at them. "The Coming of Age and Accession Inauguration will be the start of your joint reign. Until then, you are to be inseparable. You must learn the pulse of each other’s nations."
Nicholas, who had been listening with an expression of intense, feigned interest, suddenly shifted. He turned his body fully toward Euijoo. Despite the gravity of the situation, the glint of that naughty rebellion was still present, tucked behind a veneer of perfect royal manners.
He extended his hand across the table. It was a gesture that was technically formal, but the way he held his palm up, waiting, made it feel incredibly personal—almost a challenge.
"I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Crown Prince Euijoo," Nicholas said, his voice low and smooth, carefully curated for the ears of the parents watching them. "I hope we can become… very close before the inauguration."
Euijoo’s heart did a strange, uncomfortable somersault. He looked at Nicholas’s hand—long, elegant, and steady—then up at the man’s face. Nicholas wasn't just flirting; he was waiting to see how Euijoo would handle the pressure.
Euijoo took a breath, summoning every ounce of his Perfect Crown Prince training. He reached out, his own hand feeling slightly cold, and gripped Nicholas’ hand. The handshake was stiff, formal, and painfully awkward.
"Sure," Euijoo replied, his voice a perfect, rehearsed octave higher than his normal speaking tone. He flashed a smile that was polite, practiced, and didn't quite reach his eyes. "I look forward to it as well."
Nicholas’ fingers tightened around his just a fraction, his smile widening into something more genuine and significantly more dangerous.
"Good," Nicholas whispered, just quiet enough that only Euijoo could hear. "Because I have a feeling we're going to be a very interesting team."
Euijoo didn't dare pull his hand away, but the inner sulking prince in him was already imagining exactly how many times he was going to want to lock his doors to keep the Taiwanese Prince out. This wasn't just a political partnership; it was going to be a war of nerves.
.
The moment the heavy doors of the meeting hall closed behind them, Euijoo felt the air return to his lungs. He pivoted on his heel, his composure evaporating instantly. He began to march toward the East Palace, his pace brisk, his mind already calculating the quickest route to his sanctuary—his private chambers, where he could finally strip off this suffocating hanbok and vent.
”Prince Euijoo!"
The King’s voice cracked through the hallway like a whip. Euijoo stopped, his shoulders tensing before he forced himself to turn around, bowing his head with practiced deference.
"Yes, Your Highness?"
"Prince Nicholas is staying in the East Palace, right next to your chamber," the King stated, his tone brooking no argument. "You will provide him with a tour of the palace grounds. He needs to know the layout of his new home."
Euijoo’s eye twitched. He shot a glance toward Nicholas, who was standing behind the King with his hands clasped behind his back, looking entirely too satisfied with himself.
"Of course," Euijoo said, his voice tight. "It would be my pleasure."
They walked in silence for a few minutes, the click of their formal shoes echoing against the marble floors. As soon as they turned a corner, obscured by a large velvet curtain and out of the line of sight of the guards and the royal parents, Euijoo stopped dead.
He spun around, the Perfect Crown Prince facade dropping to reveal a sharp, defensive edge. He glared at Nicholas, his face flushed.
"Listen here," Euijoo hissed, his voice dropping to a low, frustrated mutter. "I don't know what kind of games you play in Taiwan, but this is my home, not a playground. I have duties, and I don't have time to play 'tour guide' to someone who thinks jumping off balconies is acceptable behavior."
Nicholas blinked, his expression mock-innocent, though his eyes were dancing with amusement.
"Fuma," Euijoo called out, his voice sharp. Fuma, who had been trailing them at a respectful distance, immediately stepped forward. "Take the Prince to his room and show him whatever he needs to see. I have... urgent state matters to attend to."
"But, Your Highness—" Fuma began.
"No 'buts.' Go."
Euijoo didn't wait for a rebuttal. He turned on his heel and sprinted down the corridor, his skirts swishing violently behind him as he retreated into his private sanctuary.
He slammed his bedroom door shut, leaned his back against it, and let out a long, ragged groan. Before he could even loosen his collar, he pulled his phone from his pocket and hit the group chat for Jo and Taki. The video call connected almost instantly.
"You won't believe this," Euijoo started, his voice a frantic, high-pitched whisper of pure indignation. "He’s a man! The fiancée is a man! And he’s a menace! He literally invaded my office, teased me, and now my father expects me to be his best friend and business partner for the rest of my life? I’m going to lose my mind!"
Back in the corridor, Nicholas stood watching the spot where Euijoo had vanished. He didn't look offended in the slightest. In fact, his smirk widened, turning into a genuinely pleased grin.
He turned his gaze toward Fuma, who was currently doing his best to maintain a look of stoic indifference.
"Interesting," Nicholas murmured, adjusting his cuffs. "He's even more sensitive than the reports said. I think I’m going to enjoy my time here much more than I anticipated."
"He is under a lot of pressure, Your Highness," Fuma said, his voice flat.
"Oh, I know," Nicholas replied, his tone shifting, becoming softer and strangely serious. He looked back toward the door behind which Euijoo was currently venting to his friends. "But someone needs to remind him that he’s allowed to be more than just a statue, don't you think?"
Nicholas turned toward Fuma with a playful wink. "Lead the way, Fuma-nim. Let's see what kind of 'interesting' secrets this palace is hiding."
.
BYUN EUIJOO is the Nation’s Pride. He is the embodiment of grace, poise, and intelligence. He is elegant, composed, and deeply burdened by his duty. He has spent his entire life studying statecraft and palace etiquette to live up to the expectations of his ancestors. Every movement is calculated; every word is eloquent. He has never once caused a scandal.
But
He is a man who craves freedom but understands that his existence is synonymous with the stability of his nation.
Behind closed doors, the weight of perfection is exhausting. He is highly sensitive and prone to bouts of frustration when things don't go his way. He sulks—pouting and hiding away in his chambers—whenever the pressure of his duties becomes too much.
The few people close to him are Fuma, Jo and Taki. Jo and Taki are his closest friends who act as his sanctuary, providing the only environment where he can drop his guard and laugh without worrying about court optics.
So when the screen of Euijoo’s phone lit up, displaying the familiar faces of his two confidants, Euijoo is so ready to explode. Taki had his headset on, already looking ready to burst with energy, while Jo was reclined in his chair, looking predictably calm and collected.
"You won't believe this," Euijoo started, his voice a frantic, high-pitched whisper of pure indignation. "He’s a man! The fiancée is a man! And he’s a menace! He literally invaded my office, teased me, and now my father expects me to be his best friend and business partner for the rest of my life? I’m going to lose my mind!"
"Euijoo-hyung! Slow down. We can’t hear you clearly. AND You look like you’ve seen a ghost!" Taki exclaimed the second the call connected. "What happened? Did the Taiwanese Fiancée try to start a duel?"
Euijoo, who had finally slumped onto his bed and loosened his formal hanbok sash, threw his head back against his pillows. "Worse. First, it’s a fucking Fiancé, single e, a MAN. Second, he’s a nightmare. And the worst part? My father thinks this is a 'partnership.' He’s staying in the room right next to mine, Taki! Right next to me!"
Jo adjusted his glasses, his expression unmoved. "So, he’s a man. And he’s... what, rude? Intimidating? Tell us more, Euijoo-ya."
"He’s everything," Euijoo groaned. "He’s loud, he’s flirtatious, he has zero respect for palace protocol, and he literally climbed my balcony to mock me. He looks like a perfect prince one second and a delinquent the next. My life is going to be a living hell. I’m supposed to rule a kingdom with someone who probably treats state meetings like a frat party!"
Taki’s eyes went wide, his sensitive nature kicking in. "Oh no... a personality clash! That’s the worst! If he’s that chaotic, he’s going to make your stress levels skyrocket, Hyung. You’re already so sensitive about your schedule—you’re going to explode within a week!"
"Exactly!" Euijoo sat up, pointing a finger at the screen. "Thank you, Taki! Someone finally gets it!"
"Euijoo-ya," Jo interrupted, his voice steady and grounding. "Take a breath. Look at the facts. You aren't getting married in the traditional sense, right? It’s a political partnership. You don't have to share a bedroom or a life—just a workspace. And frankly, having someone else to share the burden of the throne might actually give you more time to spend with us. It’s a win if you stop seeing him as an enemy."
"He’s not just a partner, Jo, he’s a disruption," Euijoo countered, his voice rising again. "I have a bad feeling about him. He’s going to tear down everything I’ve worked for, every bit of peace I’ve built in this palace. He’s like a wrecking ball wearing an expensive suit."
"Hyung, you’re spiraling," Taki said, though his voice was gentler now. "Maybe he’s just nervous, too? Nobody wants to be a political puppet. Maybe he acts out because he doesn't know how to handle the pressure either?"
"I don't care about his reasons," Euijoo snapped, though his shoulders slumped slightly. "I just want my quiet life back. I want my office to be my office, and my balcony to be for looking at the stars, not for surprise visits from... from him."
Jo sighed, leaning forward. "Look, whether you like it or not, he’s here. You have two choices; you can stay in your room, pout, and let him walk all over your peace of mind, or you can take control. Be the one who sets the boundaries. If he’s a nightmare, be the dream that wakes him up."
Euijoo stared at his two friends. He knew they were right—he should be rational—but the knot of dread in his stomach wouldn't untie.
"I have a terrible feeling," Euijoo muttered, falling back onto his pillows. "I think he’s going to make me break every rule I’ve ever set for myself. And I hate it."
"Then start by locking your balcony door, Hyung!" Taki suggested, giggling.
"I’m already planning on it," Euijoo grumbled, though he finally allowed himself a small, tired smile. "But I doubt it’ll stop him."
The sharp knock-knock-knock at the door made Euijoo practically leap off his bed. He scrambled, swiping at his screen to end the call with Jo and Taki just as the door handle turned. He didn't have time to fix his hair or hide his flushed, annoyed expression before Fuma stepped inside.
Seeing it was only Fuma, Euijoo let out a long, dramatic exhale, his shoulders dropping. But the relief was short-lived—the sulking prince in him was still in full swing.
"You," Euijoo pointed a finger at Fuma, his eyes narrowing. "You knew. You knew the whole time and you didn't say a single word. How could you?"
Fuma didn't even flinch. He walked over to the vanity, setting down a tray with a glass of water and a small, neatly bound dossier. He turned around, hands on his hips, his expression teasingly unimpressed.
"Euijoo-ya, let's be logical," Fuma said, his tone casual, lacking any of the formal 'prince' deference they had to maintain in public. "Did you ever once sit me down and ask, 'Fuma Hyung, is there anything I should know about my future partner?' No. You spent the last three days busy building a fortress of denial. Why would I ruin your delusion?"
Euijoo opened his mouth to protest, but Fuma cut him off with a look that clearly said don't even try it.
"And for the record," Fuma continued, crossing his arms, "running away from diplomatic duty is not very 'Crown Prince' of you. It’s very 'child having a tantrum.' If the King had seen you sprinting through the halls, he would have had my head, not yours."
Euijoo’s pout deepened. He hated how right Fuma was. He slumped back onto the bed, crossing his arms and looking away, his voice dropping into that familiar, vulnerable register he only used behind closed doors. "Fuma-hyung, you're the worst. You’re supposed to be on my side, not his."
"I am on your side, which is why I’m here," Fuma softened, his tone shifting from stern to protective. He gestured to the folder on the vanity. "I knew you’d spend the next six hours pacing and spiraling, so I compiled a background check. It has his public record, his private interests, his known inner circle, and even a list of his 'nightlife' habits."
Euijoo looked at the folder, his curiosity warring with his irritation. He didn't move to open it yet. "I hate that you know me this well."
Fuma, His personal assistant/confidant who is the only one capable of placating him when he’s in a bad mood, often with a tray of his favorite comfort snacks and a firm reality check. Always on Euijoo’s side since Euijoo can remember things.
"It’s part of the job description," Fuma said, stepping over to sit on the edge of the bed. He sighed, looking at Euijoo with a weary but fond expression. "Look, I know you’re stressed. But Prince Nicholas isn't just a threat to your peace; he’s someone who has lived a very different life. If you want to survive the upcoming years, you need to know how he ticks. Don't hide in your room, Euijoo-ya. It’ll only make him more curious."
Euijoo looked up at Fuma, his expression softening from angry to genuinely overwhelmed. He leaned his head against Fuma’s arm, his voice small. "I just wanted things to stay the same. Why does everything have to be so complicated?"
Fuma ruffled Euijoo’s hair, a move that would have caused a scandal if anyone else had seen it. "Because you're the Crown Prince, and your life was never meant to be quiet. Now, stop whining like a little brother and read the file. We have a meeting in the morning, and I'd prefer if you didn't make a scene while he's talking."
Euijoo grabbed a throw pillow and shoved it weakly at Fuma, though he was already reaching for the folder. "You're so annoying, hyung."
"And yet," Fuma said, standing up to head toward the door, "you'd be completely lost without me. Eat something, drink the water, and read. I'll be back in an hour to check on your progress."
As Fuma closed the door, Euijoo finally pulled the file onto his lap. He stared at the name 'Wang Yixiang' on the cover, his heart still racing. He really was going to have to deal with this, wasn't he?