Chapter Text
The Academy’s forest retreat was supposed to feel peaceful, but Wan had never found comfort in gatherings like this. He stood at the edge of the clearing, posture straight, hands folded behind his back out of habit, watching students move between lantern-lit tents and archery stations with a kind of restless energy he couldn’t quite step into. Students clustered in bright knots of excitement, laughter rising like sparks from a fire. The smell of grilled sweet rice cakes drifted through the air, mixing with pine and dust.
He wasn’t here for any of it. He was here because the royal family needed to be seen “engaging with the youth.” Which meant: show up, smile politely, don’t overshadow your brother, and pretend you’re enjoying yourself. Wan didn’t mind. He had learned how to disappear in plain sight. But today, the retreat felt heavier than usual, the noise didn’t just surround him, it pressed in, thick and restless, as if every laugh and lantern glow carried a weight he couldn’t quite shake.
Jeongwu appeared beside him, grinning like he had been waiting for Wan to look miserable. “You look like you’re attending your own funeral.”
Wan didn’t look away from the crowd. “It’s loud.”
“It’s a festival.”
“That’s the problem.”
Jeongwu laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Try to look alive. You’re not even competing.”
Wan hummed noncommittally, scanning the crowd without meaning to. He wasn’t looking for anyone, except he was. His gaze found her the way it always did, without effort, without intention. Seong Huiju stood against a tree, arms crossed, expression carved from irritation. Her hair was tied back, a few strands escaping to frame her face. She wore the festival uniform like armor, not decoration. She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t talking. She looked like she had been dragged here against her will.
Jeongwu followed his gaze and sighed dramatically. “You’re hopeless.”
Wan didn’t react. “She looks annoyed.”
“She always looks annoyed.”
“She doesn’t like crowds.”
“She doesn’t like people,” Jeongwu corrected. “But she came anyway because I convinced her.”
Wan turned to him. “You convinced her?”
Jeongwu shrugged, smug. “I told her the archery competition would be fun and that she could skip the group activities. She said she would think about it, then she showed up. So I’m taking credit.”
Wan didn’t say anything, but something in him eased. Seong Huiju hated events like this. If she was here, she trusted Jeongwu enough to listen. It meant she wasn’t alone.
Jeongwu nudged him again. “You should talk to her.”
Wan looked back at the crowd. “She doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“She doesn’t want to talk to anyone but she tolerates you more than most.”
Wan wasn’t sure that was true. Seong Huiju tolerated him the way someone tolerated a persistent shadow, annoyed, but resigned. She didn’t like nobles. She didn’t like the royal family but she didn’t flinch from him either. Wan’s gaze drifted back to her. She was adjusting her bowstring with the kind of focus that made the world around her fade. She moved with precision, with purpose, with quiet intensity. She didn’t notice him watching.
And then, without warning she stepped away toward the treeline. Wan straightened. Huiju slipped between two festival banners, heading for the narrow trail that led into the forest. Students weren’t supposed to wander off. But Seong Huiju didn’t care about rules.
Jeongwu frowned. “Where’s she going?”
“She’s leaving.”
“She shouldn’t. The instructors will freak out.”
Wan didn’t answer. His eyes were on the sky. Clouds had been gathering all morning, slow, heavy, darkening at the edges. A storm was coming.
Jeongwu saw it too. “Jaga.”
Wan was already stepping forward.
“You’re going after her?” Jeongwu asked.
“She’ll get caught in the storm.”
“She’s not a child.”
“She’s alone.”
Jeongwu opened his mouth, closed it, then sighed. “Fine. Go. But hurry back before the storm.”
Wan moved through the crowd with practiced ease, slipping between students, ignoring the curious glances. He reached the edge of the festival grounds just as Huiju disappeared into the trees.
The forest swallowed the festival noise behind him. Cicadas hummed. The air smelled like damp earth and pine. The wind shifted, carrying the faint scent of rain. Huiju walked ahead, fast, her braid swinging behind her, her posture sharp with irritation. Wan knew that posture. He had seen it the night he first met her, when she had snuck into the archery field after curfew, bow in hand, determination blazing. She hadn’t bowed to him then. Wan had fallen a little in that moment.
He followed her now for the same reason he had stayed with her then because she was the only person who saw him as himself and not a prince. Huiju reached a clearing where the trees opened just enough to let the sky show through. She stopped, exhaling sharply, hands on her hips. Wan stepped into the clearing a moment later.
Huiju didn’t turn. “Why are you following me?”
Wan kept his voice calm. “You left suddenly.”
“I needed air.”
“You could’ve told someone.”
Huiju spun around, eyes flashing. “I didn’t think I needed permission to breathe.”
Wan didn’t flinch. “You don’t.”
Her irritation faltered, just slightly. She looked away.
“I just… wanted space.”
Wan nodded. “Then I’ll stay behind you.”
Huiju stared at him, thrown off by the simplicity of it. She opened her mouth, closed it, then huffed and turned away.
“Do what you want.”
Wan followed at a respectful distance. The sky darkened overhead, clouds rolling in faster than expected. Huiju didn’t seem to notice. She walked deeper into the forest, her pace steady, her thoughts clearly somewhere else. Wan watched her carefully. She was beautiful, not in the delicate way but in the fierce, unfiltered way that made people stare without meaning to. She was fire wrapped in quiet defiance. And she didn’t bow to him. He liked that more than he should. The path dipped suddenly, slick with moss. Huiju stepped forward, her foot sliding out from under her. Wan reacted instantly.
“Seong Huiju!”
She grabbed his sleeve, but the momentum pulled them both off balance. Wan’s knee slammed into the ground. Huiju stumbled into him, their bodies colliding, breath catching in the same startled moment. They landed together. Huiju’s hands were on his shoulders. Wan’s arm was around her waist. Their faces were close, her breath warm against his cheek. For a second, neither moved. Huiju’s eyes widened, shock, confusion, something else flickering beneath it.
She pushed herself upright quickly, cheeks flushed. “Jaga…Are you okay?”
Wan inhaled sharply. “My knee.”
Huiju’s worry snapped into place instantly. She knelt beside him, hands hovering near his leg. “Did you twist it?”
“Maybe.”
“Jaga, you should’ve…” She stopped herself, frustration tightening her voice. “Let me see.”
He didn’t argue. Huiju touched his knee gently, her fingers warm, careful. Wan inhaled sharply. Huiju’s eyes snapped up. “Don’t pretend it doesn’t hurt.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
Thunder cracked overhead loudly and suddenly. The storm was here. Huiju flinched. Wan steadied her instinctively, pulling her closer. Lightning lit the forest in a flash of white. Rain began to fall in heavy sheets. Huiju looked up at the storm, then back at Wan, panic flickering across her face.
“We need shelter.”
Wan nodded. “There.”
A stone overhang stood ahead. Huiju helped him up, her arm around him, guiding him through the trees as the rain intensified. They ducked beneath the shelter. The rain roared outside, but under the rock it was dry enough to breathe. Huiju knelt beside him again, her hair damp, her expression tight with worry.
“You shouldn’t have followed me.”
Wan’s voice was soft. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”
Huiju stiffened, eyes widening. The storm raged outside. Inside, the space between them felt suddenly small. Huiju swallowed, her fingers lingering near his knee longer than necessary. She didn’t look at him but she didn’t pull away either.
The storm didn’t ease. Rain hammered the forest floor, turning it slick and dark. Huiju stayed close, her shoulder brushing his lightly every few breaths. She didn’t seem to notice or maybe she did. She adjusted his leg, trying to find a more comfortable angle. Wan inhaled sharply at the movement.
Huiju froze. “Did that hurt?”
“A little.”
“You should’ve told me.”
“I didn’t want you to worry.”
Huiju looked up and something in her expression cracked.
“Too late,” she murmured.
Wan drew in a quiet breath. Huiju’s hand hovered near his knee, careful, gentle. Her fingers brushed his skin lightly.
“Seong Huiju…” Wan didn’t know what he meant to say. Only that she was too close, close enough that he could feel her breath.
Huiju’s eyes flicked to his mouth. Wan’s pulse stumbled. And then, without warning or hesitation, Huiju leaned in and kissed him.
Wan raised an eyebrow and moved back in surprise, staring at her in confusion and slight amusement. Huiju pulled back at once, eyes wide and cheeks burning. Had she really just kissed Wan? She had thought about it before, more than she wanted to admit. She had felt something for him for a while, a pull she tried to ignore. But thinking about him and actually kissing him were two very different things, and she had no idea what possessed her to close that distance.
“I… forget that.”
Wan stared at her. “Seong Huiju.”
“No,” she said quickly, standing too fast. “No, that didn’t happen.”
“It did.”
“Don’t say it.”
Wan’s lips curved, soft, warm. “You kissed me.”
Huiju made a strangled noise. “Jaga…”
He reached out gently, catching her wrist. She turned toward him, startled. Wan pulled her down, just enough to bring her close again and kissed her. It was soft, warm and longer than her impulsive brush she had given him. Huiju inhaled sharply, her fingers curling into his shirt as she kissed him back. When they parted, Huiju stared at him like she couldn’t understand what she had just done or why it felt so terrifyingly right.
Wan whispered, “We don’t have to talk about it.”
Huiju whispered back, “Good.”
Wan smiled. “But we’re not pretending it didn’t happen.”
They sat close, listening to the steady rhythm of the rain. Huiju felt her face grow warm. Wan leaned in again, careful and quiet, and her breath faltered. She stayed where she was. Outside, the rain kept falling. Inside, the space between them felt impossibly warm.
______________________
Huiju woke to the sound of rain. She sat still for a moment, startled to realise she had fallen asleep on Wan’s shoulder. Huiju stared at the rain, trying to act like she didn’t feel him sitting so close. Her heartbeat betrayed her. The kiss she had given him still flickered in her chest, wild and impulsive, impossible to take back and impossible to ignore.
Wan’s voice broke the silence, soft and warm. “Hey.”
Huiju swallowed. “Hey.”
Her voice sounded wrong, too soft, too careful, too unlike her usual sharpness. Wan didn’t comment. He just sat there quietly, letting her decide how close she wanted to be. Huiju wished he would stop being gentle. It made everything worse. She kept her eyes on the rain, fingers tapping lightly against her knee, a nervous habit she hated. She tried to breathe evenly. She failed.
Finally, she said, “We… should pretend nothing happened.”
Wan blinked. “Which part?”
Huiju made a strangled noise. “Jaga.”
He just looked at her, steady and calm.
Huiju exhaled sharply. “The… thing.”
Wan’s voice stayed soft. “The kiss?”
Huiju went still.
Wan kept his voice gentle. “The first one or the second?”
Huiju covered her face with both hands. “Jaga, stop please.”
He was smiling, she could hear it in his voice even if she couldn’t see it. “I’m not making fun of you.”
“You’re definitely making fun of me.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re smiling.”
“I’m allowed to smile.”
“Not like that.”
Wan tilted his head. “How am I smiling?”
Huiju dropped her hands, flustered. “Like you… know something.”
Wan’s voice softened. “I do.”
Her breath stuttered. She looked away quickly, hugging her knees to her chest. “We shouldn’t have done that.”
Wan didn’t argue. “Maybe.”
Huiju frowned. “Don’t just agree with me.”
Wan’s lips curved. “Okay.”
She stared at him suspiciously. “What does that mean?”
Wan leaned back against the stone wall, letting the rain fill the silence. “It means I’m not pretending it didn’t happen.”
Huiju’s cheeks flushed again. “Jaga…”
Wan looked at her gently. “What?”
Huiju hesitated, fingers tightening around her knees. “You’re being… calm.”
“I am calm.”
“That’s the problem,” she muttered. “You’re calm and I’m…” She gestured vaguely at herself. “…not.”
Wan’s smile deepened, warm and quiet. “Seong Huiju.”
She didn’t look at him. He waited.
Finally, she exhaled, small and shaky. “Ok, I… liked it.”
Wan’s smile deepened, warm and gentle, touched with nothing but fondness.
Huiju groaned into her hands. “Don’t smile like that either.”
Wan let the moment settle, then said lightly, “My knee’s a little better.”
Huiju’s head snapped toward him. “Why didn’t you say something?”
Wan shrugged. “You seemed… busy.”
Huiju’s eyes widened. “Busy? Busy with what?”
Wan met her gaze. “Thinking.”
Huiju’s face went red so fast she almost choked. “I wasn’t… I mean… I was just…” She groaned and buried her face in her arms. “I need to figure out what I’m feeling.”
Wan smiled, gentle and patient. “And have you figured it out?”
Huiju didn’t lift her head. “I already knew,” she said quietly. “I’ve known for a while,” she added, voice tight. “I just… didn’t want to deal with it.”
Wan’s eyes softened. “I know,” he said gently. “I wasn’t waiting for you to figure out the feeling. I was waiting for you to trust it.” He held her gaze without crowding her. “And I’m here, however long it takes.”
He just stayed beside her, steady and warm, letting her know without words that he wasn’t going anywhere. Outside, the rain kept falling. Inside, the space between them felt impossibly gentle.
Huiju finally whispered, “We’re still stuck here, aren’t we?”
Wan nodded. “Until the storm clears.”
The quietness settled between them, broken only by the soft rain outside. Huiju glanced toward the trees, knowing the temperature would drop once the sun slipped behind the ridge. They needed firewood before nightfall. The forest would turn cold once the sun dropped, and Wan’s injury meant he wouldn’t handle the chill well. When he tried to push himself up to help, Huiju stopped him with a sharp look.
“You’re not walking on that,” she said.
“Huiju, I can…”
“No.” Her voice left no room for argument. “Stay here.”
Wan tried again, softer this time. “Let me at least carry something.”
Huiju shook her head. “You’re hurt. I’ll get it.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but she was already stepping out into the damp clearing, gathering fallen branches from the driest patches she could find. Wan watched her move through the trees, quick and determined, refusing to let him strain himself. When she returned, arms full of wood, she dropped the pile beside him with a quiet huff. Wan reached out as if to take some of the weight from her, but she ignored the gesture and crouched to sort through the branches herself.
Huiju tried to spark a flame with the flint she carried. It sputtered. She tried again. It sputtered again. Huiju scowled. “This is ridiculous.”
Wan hid a smile. “You’re doing fine.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Huiju shot him a look. “Jaga.”
Wan leaned slightly closer. “Let me try.”
She hesitated, then handed him the flint. Wan struck it carefully, guiding the spark toward the driest branch. Huiju watched him, her expression shifting, irritation fading into something softer. The flame caught.
Huiju blinked. “Oh.”
Wan smiled. “See?”
Huiju huffed, but her cheeks warmed. “Fine. You win.”
Wan didn’t tease her. He just sat beside her, letting the small fire warm the space between them. Huiju sat close, closer than she needed to, her knee brushing his lightly. They settled against the stone wall, the fire low but steady, the night air already turning cold. Huiju drew her cloak tighter, but Wan saw the way her shoulders trembled.
“Come here,” he murmured.
She hesitated for a moment, then shifted closer. Wan reached out and gently took her by the waist. He guided her into his side, pulling her against him until her head rested near his shoulder. They leaned together against the stone wall, Wan’s arms wrapped around her, the fire crackling low in front of them. Huiju shifted slightly, checking his expression.
“Are you sure your leg’s alright?” she asked quietly. “You’re not hiding the pain from me?”
Wan breathed out, steady and calm. “It hurts a little,” he admitted. “But it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
Huiju frowned. “You shouldn’t have followed me. If you hadn’t, none of this would’ve happened.”
Wan shook his head, tightening his hold just enough for her to feel the certainty in it. “Maybe, but it gave me this chance to be here with you. Away from everything, away from the crowds. I like it.”
Huiju’s breath caught, her chest warming in a way she didn’t expect. She looked up at him, the quiet sincerity in his voice settling through her like heat. Something in her softened and opened as she leaned in, closing the small space between them. The kiss she gave him was gentle and warm, lingering just long enough to say everything she couldn’t put into words. It was soft, brief, and full of the kind of tenderness she never dared show him before.
When she pulled back, she let herself settle against him, her cheek resting on his shoulder. Huiju let her eyes fall shut. “I shouldn’t have kissed you,” she murmured. “But I wanted to,” she added, voice warm and tired. Wan smiled and shifted just enough to hold her more securely, his hand smoothing along her arm before settling around her waist. Huiju relaxed into him, the cold forgotten for a moment. He lowered his head and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of hers. They stayed like that, leaning against the stone wall, the fire crackling low, the rain whispering outside, wrapped in each other’s warmth as sleep slowly crept in.
______________________
The next morning, the storm had finally begun to tire. The rain thinned into a fine mist, drifting through the trees like smoke. The forest felt washed clean, quieter, softer, almost fragile after the violence of the night before. Huiju stood at the edge of the shelter, arms crossed, scanning the trees with a frown that had nothing to do with danger and everything to do with her own thoughts.
They had tried to walk earlier, just to see if they could make it closer to the trail, but Wan’s knee had given out almost immediately. Huiju barely caught him before he fell, her heart lurching as she guided him back to the shelter. Now Wan sat behind her, leaning lightly against the stone wall, his injured leg stretched out, his posture steady despite the ache she knew he was hiding. Huiju brushed damp hair from her cheek, the firelight catching the faint worry in her eyes.
“Jeongwu will organize a search. He knows I followed you.”
Huiju’s lips twitched. “He’ll be dramatic about it.”
Wan smiled softly. “Probably.”
She didn’t look at him, but her shoulders relaxed slightly. “He’ll find us.”
Huiju stepped out from under the shelter, scanning the forest. The mist clung to the branches, turning the world silver. She listened for voices, for movement, for anything familiar. Nothing.
She returned to Wan’s side, brushing off her sleeves. “No one yet.”
Wan nodded. “They’ll come.”
Huiju stayed beside him, the mist curling through the trees, the forest washed pale and quiet after the storm. Wan shifted slightly, adjusting his injured knee, and she glanced at him with that familiar worried crease between her brows. She looked out at the silver forest again, arms folded.
“I keep thinking… if I hadn’t wandered off, none of this would’ve happened. You wouldn’t be hurt.”
Wan’s voice was calm, steady. “I followed you because I wanted to.”
Huiju blinked, surprised. “Why?”
Wan’s eyes softened. “Because I like you Seong Huiju.”
She went quiet, breath tightening as his words landed with a weight she couldn’t ignore.
“I like you because you’re brave. Because you’re stubborn. Because you care even when you pretend you don’t.” he continued
Huiju’s eyes lifted slowly, meeting his.
“And,” Wan added, quieter now, “because when I’m with you, I don’t feel like I have to be anything else.”
Wan didn’t give her a chance to retreat into her thoughts, he leaned in steadily and kissed her with a warmth that made the mist around them feel suddenly brighter. Huiju inhaled sharply against him, her hand rising instinctively to his chest, fingers curling lightly into the fabric as she kissed him back. The cold, the hunger, the long night all of it slipped away for a moment, replaced by the quiet rush of being this close to him. When they parted, Wan stayed close, his forehead nearly touching hers, their breaths mingling in the cool morning air.
“I like being here with you,” he murmured. “Even like this.”
Huiju’s cheeks warmed, her heartbeat unsteady. She looked down, flustered but unable to hide the small smile tugging at her lips. Wan lifted her chin, his touch warm and kissed her again slowly, full of a tenderness that made her pulse stumble. The moment deepened, the world narrowing to the soft press of his mouth and the warmth of his breath against hers. Huiju exhaled softly into him, her hand rising to his chest, fingers resting there as if to steady the rush in her chest. She met his kiss with quiet certainty, the She kissed him back warmly, and for a moment the mist and the cold didn’t matter.
When they parted, the forest felt even quieter, the mist even softer, as if the world itself had paused for them.
“I like you too,” she said quietly. Then, after a moment, she added with a small, embarrassed huff, “I just didn’t want you to know first.”
He reached out, brushing his thumb lightly along her cheek, the gentlest touch he could manage. “Thank you,” he murmured.
Huiju blinked, startled.
Wan’s voice stayed warm, steady. “For telling me, for trusting me with it.”
He didn’t pull her closer, he didn’t need to. The space between them was already small, already warm, already full of everything she’d been afraid to say.
“And for the record,” he added softly, “I didn’t want you to know first either.”
A quiet breath slipped out of her, the moment settling through her.
Wan’s smile softened, warm and sincere, meant only for her. “I just couldn’t hide it as well as you.”
His hand stayed at her cheek letting her know without words that he wasn’t going anywhere. She looked away, flustered but unable to hide her own smile. “Don’t say things like that,” she murmured, voice barely steady. “It makes it hard to breathe.”
Wan laughed under his breath softly, “I like that it does.”
Huiju nudged his shoulder, trying to hide the smile tugging at her mouth. Wan’s expression softened, and he drew her in with a warm, steady touch, kissing her with the kind of quiet affection that made the world feel smaller and safer.
The forest stayed silver and quiet around them, mist curling through the branches like breath. Huiju sat close enough that their arms brushed, her cheeks still warm from the words she finally said. Wan watched her with that soft, steady smile, the one she couldn’t look at for too long without feeling her heartbeat trip.
For a moment, it was just them. Then, faintly at first, the forest shifted. A distant shout. Another. Branches rustling. Boots hitting wet ground. Huiju’s head snapped up.
Wan straightened slightly, careful of his knee. “Huiju.”
She was already listening, sharp, alert, her hand instinctively brushing his arm as if to steady him. The mist carried the voices closer, clearer.
“Seong Huiju!” “Jaga!” “Over here!”
Huiju exhaled, relief and adrenaline tangling in her chest. She stood, scanning the trees until shapes emerged through the silver haze: Jeongwu at the front, soaked, breathless, furious and relieved all at once.
Jeongwu’s eyes widened when he saw them. “You two…!” He stopped himself, running the last few steps. “Are you alright?”
Huiju nodded quickly. “Jaga’s knee…”
“I’m fine,” Wan said, calm as ever.
Jeongwu shot him a look that said he absolutely did not believe that, then turned back to Huiju. “We’ve been searching since dawn. You scared everyone.”
Huiju’s cheeks warmed, not from embarrassment, but from the memory of what she and Wan had just shared. She stepped slightly aside, giving Jeongwu room to help Wan up. Wan’s hand brushed hers as he shifted his weight, a quiet, deliberate touch meant only for her.
Jeongwu noticed. His brows lifted. Huiju glared at him. “Don’t.”
Jeongwu wisely said nothing. The team moved in around them, offering support, checking Wan’s leg, wrapping a blanket around Huiju’s shoulders. She let them fuss, but her eyes kept drifting back to Wan, steady, warm, watching her with that same gentle certainty.
As they began the slow walk back toward the trail, Wan leaned close enough for only her to hear.
“Still hard to breathe?” he murmured.
Huiju’s pulse stumbled. “Don’t start.”
Wan smiled. “I wasn’t starting, just checking.”
She looked away, flustered, but she stayed close to him, closer than she ever had. The forest opened around them, washed clean by the storm, and the search team led the way home. But the closeness between Lee Wan and Seong Huiju didn’t fade, it settled, warm and certain, a truth finally acknowledged, finally shared, finally theirs.