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James Chao was born with the mandate to always follow the rules. From an early age, he had been conditioned so that the way he walked, ate, spoke, and generally carried himself aligned with his social standing. "Do what is right, beautiful, and pleasing"—that was a phrase his mother repeated with irritating frequency, intending to remind him of who he was.
It was to be expected, given that he was a crown prince. Not metaphorically—he literally held that title.
Despite all the pleasant luxury that life offered, he felt the urge to step outside the lines a little. To color outside the lines, so to speak. To wear whatever clothes he pleased, get his ears pierced, and go wherever he wanted, with whomever he wanted, at whatever time he chose.
His first act of rebellion came at age twenty-one, on his birthday. His parents spent the entire day away at his uncle and aunt's palace, leaving him somewhat free until 7:00 PM, the scheduled start of the birthday party he hadn't even wanted to hold in the first place.
Around 4:00 PM, he sent one of his staff members to buy a few items and deliver them with the utmost care. He could have used some help, but he preferred to do what needed doing on his own; he didn't want to risk getting any of the employees into trouble or causing them to lose their jobs.
He found his usual look rather irritating and dreadfully dull. His clothes were bespoke, his hairstyle options were strictly limited, and piercings, tattoos, and the like were expressly forbidden. Yet, that morning, the idea of bleaching his hair a bright blonde had crossed his mind.
It was a great idea—but only to him. His parents, relatives, and the various politicians attending his birthday gathering certainly didn't look pleased when they saw the young man descending the stairs clad in a stunning black outfit, sporting hair of a strikingly light blonde. His father didn't hesitate to pull him by the arm and whisper in his ear, warning him that he would be punished later. Altering anything about one's body was already considered a bad thing, but doing so without his parents' permission or knowledge was practically a crime.
The incident made headlines everywhere; while some criticized James, saying a future king shouldn't behave that way, others praised him, remarking that he looked better as a blond.
But he had always been a good boy who did as he was told; surely, changing something so small wouldn't do any harm. In any case, five years passed, and James eventually got his parents to accept that change as the only rule he would ever break in his life.
What James had forgotten was that he needed to get married, and that there were two non-negotiable conditions for royal marriages: the partner had to be of the opposite sex, and it was preferable for them to be royalty as well. If a royal were to marry a commoner, that person had to belong to the elite.
He only remembered this when he fell in love with Martin Edwards Park.
James told his parents he wanted to spend two months in Paris traveling and visiting his college friend, Seonghyeon, the son of a Korean politician. Seonghyeon loved the city's atmosphere, beauty, and landmarks; he had been living there for two years, and James missed him. Two months would make up for the two years they hadn't seen each other. Despite some initial hesitation, the monarchs agreed, provided that the housekeeper—a woman in her late forties with stark white hair—accompanied him and kept them updated on everything he did.
Since it was summer, it would be wonderful to enjoy the season at the French capital's beaches. He nearly jumped for joy when he heard his parents say yes. Mrs. Chaeng, the housekeeper, wasn't the sort of person who was hard to deal with; James actually enjoyed opening up to her and asking for advice. She was like a second mother to him. So, the trip promised to be a success.
During his first week, James decided to take advantage of the warm weather to work on his tan and go for a dip in the saltwater. Seonghyeon was too busy to go to the beach with him, as were her other clients, since it was still a Tuesday. So he had no choice but to go alone.
Despite being annoyed by Chaeng constantly reminding him to wear sunscreen, and despite the solitude, James was really enjoying doing something that didn't involve royalty.
Lying face-down on a towel, the Taiwanese man admired the view of the blue sea, but his eyes were soon drawn to a very tall, handsome blond man lying nearby. The stranger was wearing navy blue swim shorts and sunglasses, and was reading a book.
James felt a bit guilty for staring so intently at the man's abs and arm muscles; he even glanced at Chaeng a few times to see if she would scold him for being so captivated by the sight of a half-naked man. Fortunately, she was reading something too and seemed completely engrossed in the stories within those yellowed pages.
He also worried that the young man might notice how closely he was studying his well-built physique and take offense. To his surprise, the man laughed, left his seat, and moved even closer, just to whisper in his ear:
— Do you like what you see?
James didn't know how to respond; his eyes were wide, and his vocal cords seemed to have lost the ability to form words. The man's voice was even more beautiful than his face.
The young man said nothing more; he simply flashed a truly memorable smile and returned to his original spot. James felt the man’s gaze on him later but avoided looking back to confirm it.
Two weeks later, James kept running into the man. He visited various coffee shops, libraries, and record stores, and that shock of blond hair was always nearby.
It was pure coincidence, but during one of these chance encounters—while James was browsing through vintage rock records—the taller man said something along the lines of:
"I never thought I’d be followed by a prince."
Everyone knew who James was, including that man, but James wanted to know who he was, too. Unfortunately, he couldn't find any information about him. Besides, he wasn't actually following the guy. Who was he, and who did he think he was?
When he told Seonghyeon the story the next day, his friend laughed and said he was ready for a movie-worthy romance. James didn't think that was a bad idea; the young man was handsome, had good taste in music, and seemed to have a good sense of humor. However, the details the blond man used to describe the stranger intrigued Eom. It all sounded very familiar.
He grabbed the laptop from his desk, searched for a name on Google Images, and showed the result to his friend, asking if that was the guy. James was shocked.
It was Martin Edwards Park. A 23-year-old Korean-Canadian rockstar who played guitar and sang in a hard rock and metal band that was starting to gain worldwide fame. He lived in Seoul but liked spending his vacations and holidays in Paris, so it was very easy to run into him at the same beach, the same record store, and the same coffee shop.
Once he realized this, James began frequenting those spots. He wanted to find out something about the young man and perhaps get noticed by him. James didn't like it when people followed him or when crazy journalists invaded his privacy for the sake of news stories, but he did want Martin to see him.
To his delight, that happened while he was having coffee at his usual haunt—a habit that was already raising suspicions with his housekeeper, who wondered why he kept going there.
While Chaeng went to the register to pay for her purchases, Martin left the shop, but not before leaving a small folded piece of paper on James's table and smiling at him. The prince tucked it away as if it were something illicit. Once home, he waited until he was alone to open it. A string of numbers and a short message were written on the paper.
"Here’s what you’ve been wanting. Call me or send a nice text :P"
He dialed the number and the call was answered immediately, which startled him. Both remained silent on the line for about a minute, until Martin asked if he wasn't going to say anything, seeing as he had managed to get the number. James claimed he hadn't asked for the number—that Martin had given it of his own free will. Martin replied that he didn't need to follow him around if he was interested in him in some way. The audacity impressed the heir.
The conversation ended with Martin inviting him to his apartment in a couple of days—but he had to come alone. James said he obviously wouldn't accept, but after hanging up, the only thing on his mind was how he could slip out alone—without Chaeng or any other bodyguard trailing him.
The only way to pull it off was to claim he was going to Seonghyeon’s place; Seonghyeon had already become a trusted figure within the family.
Chaeng hesitated that day because it was raining. James hated lying, but he felt compelled to put on a convincing performance to get what he wanted. He kept at it until the housekeeper finally agreed, setting a time, asking for photos of him at the location, and insisting that he absolutely must not get caught in the rain.
He couldn't quite understand why he was so interested in Martin, enough to lie to Chaeng, which was no easy feat. As the Korean man opened the door to let him in, James was busy texting Seonghyeon to coordinate a fake selfie of the two of them together, ensuring their stories would align. Martin was waiting for him, dressed in a navy blue sweater and matching loose-fitting jeans—a look that was both stylish and youthful.
Despite seeming like nothing more than an annoying kid the first few times they met, Martin turned out to be quite calm and polite.
His house was large, tastefully decorated, and clean, with the scent of lavender in the air. He offered him hot tea and asked why he was in France when his kingdom lay elsewhere.
— A vacation and my friend who lives here. I’m not a ruler yet, but my life is already a drag. Sometimes I need to get away and breathe, but I can only do that if I have someone tailing me. Even my heartbeat is monitored. My parents love treating me like a child. You have no idea how hard it was to come here all by myself.
Martin finished the last of his tea, set his mug on the coffee table, and nodded.
— I remember when you dyed your hair blonde a few years back and everyone wouldn't stop talking about it. I thought it was badass.
James ran his hand through his hair and smiled at the memory.
— I felt so rebellious doing that.
The prince marveled at how Martin treated him like an ordinary person. He didn't use "Your Highness," nor did he act afraid or interested in James's wealth. After a long conversation about his career, bandmates, and tours, James reflected that Martin perhaps embodied the person he wished he could be—someone free to do whatever he pleased.
The sound of raindrops hitting the roof was music to James's ears. The warm, yellow light made the room feel cozy. Martin seemed far more attractive now, and his lips looked incredibly kissable.
James bit his lip hard. Did Martin realize he was attracted to him, or was the teasing just a game?
— You don't have to hold back; I want this too.
And once again, just like the day they first met, James didn't know what to say. Perhaps he didn't need to say anything at all—just move closer to Martin, sit on his lap, grab the back of his neck, and press their lips together. He had spent so long thinking about it that he hadn't even realized he was already doing it—kissing a commoner as if his life depended on it.
— Martin... — he murmured mid-kiss.
The kiss broke, but only so the Korean’s lips could travel to his chin and neck. James shifted in his lap, his hands gripping those broad shoulders.
— I think I need... to go.
Both he and the rockstar felt a pang of sadness at those words. But the deal he’d made with Chaeng was "after 6:30 PM, before 9:00 PM." It was either obey or never go out alone again.
Despite that, James felt a sense of victory. He’d asked Seonghyeon to pick him up by car so as not to raise suspicions. As he gazed at the rainy cityscape and listened to his friend making teasing remarks about them, he thought, "If Mom and Dad found out about this, they’d be furious."
At the end of the night, as he lay in bed, James spent too long thinking about the kiss, the strong hands gripping his waist, and the bites and kisses on his neck. He traced his index finger over his lips, longing for another night just like that one.
His phone screen lit up. It was Martin.
"We should see each other again."
"I mean, if you want to."
James replied yes, even without knowing if there would be any future opportunities for them to meet.
The next day, Seonghyeon came to visit. Naturally, Martin was the main topic of conversation. James felt like a lovesick teenager; with every conversation and every memory, Martin seemed even more unreal.
As they talked about that kiss and painted their nails—an activity they did in secret—Hyeon remarked:
— Forbidden love is my favorite literary genre.
"Forbidden love." That thought lingered in James's mind for a few minutes. He realized just how impossible it was to build something solid with a man who was a foreigner and lacked royal blood. That realization made his heart ache.
— I need to see him again. — That was the only thing James said after a long silence.
It was a sign that he and Eom needed to devise another plan—to cook up a scheme so the couple could have some privacy. After all, in two weeks, James would have to return to his tedious life as a prince. Who knew when he’d get another chance to see the one he loved?
Fortunately, their minds worked well together, and their plans were highly successful. They got exactly what they wanted. James had never felt as loved as he did when he went to Martin’s place. The night flew by, filled with wine and loud music. On the turntable, Lana Del Rey majestically repeated the chorus of "Honeymoon" as they lost themselves in kisses, bites, touches, and caresses.
A honeymoon, indeed.
Those moments made James forget about his real life. He never would have imagined he could break free from his role as a puppet, controlled by everything and everyone.
What wouldn't he give to have Martin’s company every single day?
If it were up to him alone, he would have abdicated his title, power, and wealth to become Martin's husband. But there was far more to it than simply saying he didn't want it; the fact that he was the sole heir to the throne complicated the situation even further. He would never manage it. Or was it possible?
James woke up in the middle of the night, rubbing his eyes as he wandered through the house. The other side of the bed was empty, and that bothered him. He found Martin on the balcony, smoking a cigarette—a habit he hadn't even realized the other man had—and gazing out at the night landscape. Lit-up buildings and shining stars, side by side. He hugged him from behind. For some reason, he wanted to cry.
After returning to the palace, James felt deeply unsettled by something. He was unusually quiet; he missed the warmth of the other man's body and couldn't sleep. A new message popped up in his chat with Martin, making his phone vibrate. It seemed Martin had sent it, already guessing that the Taiwanese man wasn't asleep.
"I adore you."
"You were made for me."
The next day, while brushing his hair and having Chaeng organize some of his clothes, he let it all out. Standing before the large mirror, he spoke as if thinking aloud, not as if conversing with someone who might hear him.
— What if I... were interested in someone?
— That would be wonderful. Your parents are close to abdicating the throne, and I imagine you'll take over before you turn thirty. The crown needs heirs, and you're an only child. Who is she?
— That's not it. It's a boy.
Chaeng looked up from the clean garments she had been preparing for future occasions. She was shocked, but she didn't stop there.
— A commoner.
— Your Highness...
A solitary tear rolled down James's cheek.
— Ever since we went to Paris. I met him on the beach, and after that, we saw each other a few times.
Chaeng ran her tongue over her lips to moisten them. The prince sat on the bed and looked at her as she stood up and approached him.
— We kissed—several times, actually... we did that thing... you know...
— James Chao, your parents won't like knowing you're getting involved with a nobody. — Her tone was stern; the demeanor of a worried mother was becoming apparent.
— Please don't tell them. — James was practically pleading. It would be dangerous for both of them. He didn't want to see him come to harm. — And he’s not a nobody; he’s a rockstar. Quite wealthy, actually.
The housekeeper smoothed her long skirt and sat beside him. She took the brush from his hands and began brushing his hair—that bright blonde shade, recently touched up.
— Every powerful person has a lot of money, but not everyone with a lot of money is powerful. And besides, he’s a man.
— But I want him...
James rested his head in her lap, fighting back tears. She stroked his hair with her fingertips; it was like dealing with a lovestruck son. He felt safe with her—a sense of comfort he knew he could never replicate with his own mother.
— I won't tell. But you need to understand what you've gotten yourself into, and that... you need to find a girl, or your parents will find one for you.
It had been five months since he and Martin had communicated only through brief messages; Seonghyeon was the one who heard about it most, waking up every day to a text saying, "I miss him."
He was so distant, and that was how things would remain. Summer was over; the autumn chill now mirrored the coldness settling deep within James’s own body. His parents had already begun doing exactly what Chaeng had imagined they would: introducing him to a beautiful young woman, the daughter of a duchess. She wasn't interested in him either—a fact they had discussed when left alone together.
Alone, eating an ice cream as cold as the winds outside the palace, James wondered: was the sweet, fleeting pleasure that ice cream gave him like the nights he had spent with Martin? He preferred not to think about it.
The past was warm and comfortable. He wanted Martin back. His Salvatore and his Honeymoon.