CHAPTER TWO
Will you never immerse yourself in lies?

Hiryuu Castle is not as beloved by the people as it is by the royals. Sang-chul, for one, doesn't appreciate the towering structures or the so-called superior class that shelters within it.

Amongst them is the source of his present ire.

Princess Aeri is a child, and she is a frustrating one. Sang-chul sighs, reclining against a pillar and lazily scanning the area for any hint of the child princess. He's not surprised that there is none; no one knows the inner reaches of the castle like Aeri does, and no one can find her when she does not want to be found.

What does she have to hide from in a home where she has everything she could ever wish for? he thinks, bitterness clawing away any sense of respect for authority he may try to maintain. The castle is itself a symbol of King Il's failings, his indulgence towards his daughters a stark contrast to his people dying beyond the walls of his castle.

Sang-chul never knew his father. He can't believe it takes condemning thousands to their early deaths to be a good one.

Regardless, the princess is a headache all on her own. He doesn't know how Hyun-woo can tolerate having to hunt her down.

He considers giving up. Marching straight on to his favourite napping spots and taking the rest of the day off. Let the Captain find the miserable little adventurer, see if he cares. But he can't.

He can feel eyes on his back as he meanders through the castle halls and he sighs. He isn't sure what anyone could be doing here when he'd already given been orders to keep an eye on the Princess, but he tries not to think about it. (But it's off season and there are no visitors in the castle, and the castle has never been emptier, and the path he's following goes straight to the archives and- he's really not good at keeping his suspicions at bay, is he.)

A flash of blue in the passage directly ahead of him catches his eye, and he looks up to see the cause of his misfortune walking towards him. He holds back another sigh when she only stares at him.

"Princess Aeri, there you are," he says, tone painfully polite and his usual lazy lilt absent. "The maids have become quite concerned by your absence. Perhaps you should consider returning soon to ease their worries."

Sang-chul finds he talks more when he's in the presence of his superiors. The reverent tone is so obviously fabricated that even a child could see through it to the mocking undertones and catch glimpses of the frost that lay beneath lowered eyes.

Not that the King or any of his kin really care. They never have.

Princess Aeri nods and walks past him wordlessly. Sang-chul is tired. There is nothing in this castle that fails to make him regret his decision to join whatever army a pacifist King can have and Princess Aeri is right up there with the people who really, really make him regret it.

The Princess may be young but he can't help but wonder if her youth can excuse such ignorance towards the workings of the world when his youngest brother is barely five and already seeking any form of work his small hands could possibly manage for the sake of their struggling family. He wonders if her youth can excuse her ignorance of the endless blessings she has received in luxury, love and leisure.

He pretends he is not aware of the eyes on his back as he follows after the young princess, even as his hands stray towards the sword strapped around his waist and his shoulders tense, waiting forever for an attack that will - that should - never come, and he accepts the wariness as a distraction from pointless anger that he wishes he didn't have to direct to one still so young.

Aeri is hardly seven when she discovers that the castle walls cannot keep her safe.

There is little worth in targeting either of the Princesses when both are equally young and malleable, but perhaps there is enough so that Aeri could find the metallic scent of blood tickling her senses and an unfamiliar man leering her down over the shoulder of the one person she tries to avoid the most in the entire castle.

The castle is safe, she thinks. It is safe because her father is King and the soldiers have a duty to his daughters. It is safe because however much they may hold hate in their eyes the soldiers of Kuuto would never dare act on them. It is safe-

Someone just tried to kill her.

(If the castle is not safe, then what is?)

Despite that, she is safe. Safe, because a man she would never trust even with Hak at her side took a knife through his arm and stood his ground to protect her.

Her assailant is downed within mere moments, her untrained eyes incapable of following his swift motions. She can't help but think that it shouldn't have been so easy when the man falls to the ground limply, knives and daggers scattered about him, none having reached the mark save for the first.

"You're hurt," she blurts out.

Sang-chul blinks, pausing as he sheathes his sword. The motion is clumsy and he strains visibly against the instinct of using his right arm, still dripping blood in a lazy line. He manages, though, and offers a light shrug. "I've had worse," he says. "Better this than losing the one well-paying job there is."

"Oh." She pointedly keeps her eyes away from the man, still unconscious. Instead, she looks at Sang-chul, really looks at him for what must be the first time, and nearly jumps back in surprise.

Honest concern swims in his eyes despite his words that fail to convey it. His sword is sheathed but his hand rests on its hilt, even as he carefully avoids jostling his injured arm.

For all the hatred his eyes betray on normal days, he saves her. And she is grateful. She bites her lip and drowns her fear.

"...Thank you."

"I'm... just doing my job," he says, as if confused, then shakes his head. "We should head back."

"You're still bleeding," she informs.

"Yeah, I can tell."