He comes in the quiet hours of the night, not as the one I love. No, because he's long dead, the man I loved. I feel the faint ripples of wind as he sits next to my lying figure, a gentle hand on my face.
I peek through heavy eyelids. My room is dark, now. A small lamp is burning on the table. It flickers and flutters, weakly, among the dark shadows.
"It's a waste," he says, his hand still, "your hair."
My gaze drifts to his, trying to read what remains of him. But there is nothing—no anger, no warmth. Just emptiness that I can never fill. I reach my hand toward his face.
"No, it's not. Are you disappointed?"
"Sometimes," he says, "you're alive. Sometimes you're not. I don't know which I like better."
His voice is a distant echo. He does not sound angry. But then, he rarely shows his anger. He often hides his darker faces even from me. So I will never know.
I am not in a mood to fight with him. As he said, those are unpleasant emotions. So I try to soothe him, pulling his head to rest on my chest. I run my fingers on his hair, and he relaxes.
"Yours is getting longer," I say, in a voice most gentle. "You should do the same."
"You don't like it?" he asks.
"I like it shorter," I say, "like before. When we were younger. You looked like a girl back then."
The room falls into silence, thick with the weight of unspoken things. My fingers continue their slow dance through his hair, and he relaxes against me, as if the touch is what he needs, even if the rest of him is far away. I feel my own eyelids grow heavy, and slowly, softly, I fall back into the embrace of sleep, the night swallowing me whole once more.
When morning comes, I wake to find that he is gone. Gone, as if he were never here at all. I rise from the bed, slow and hesitant, and open the door. My maids greet me, their voices polite but distant.
It is early, and the day unfolds without him.
I eat my morning meal without him. By midday, my lunch alone. And supper. All alone.
Suwon does not show himself to me for the whole day.
I sleep, I wake, and again, the cycle repeats. The question slips from my lips, soft and almost lost to the morning mist. "Did he come last night?"
"No, Your Highness," they answer, and I feel a strange ache, somewhere.
And then, as the day draws to a close, he appears once more, but he does not speak. He simply looks at me, for the briefest of moments, before turning away, his back to me as he lies in bed.
I let him be. Why would I chase after him? Isn't this the one I always wanted...all along?
A week passes. Each day unfolds like the last. I eat alone. I sleep alone. He comes only in the evenings, silent and withdrawn, as if I am no longer there at all. He pretends I am not here, and I, I do the same. I do not speak to him.
There is only one thing I wish right now: I wish he would disappear from my life altogether. That he doesn't appear in front of me ever again.
Yet the truth is...I am lonely.
...
"Are you staying in the villa today again, Your Highness?" one of the maids asks, her voice a soft note in the stillness.
She's the girl who's been trying to win my heart. I know because she always approaches me, always talks to me. Warmly. If only the situation is different, I would have opened my heart to her. If only I don't suspect her as one of his eyes.
"Yes." My voice distant as I gaze into the sky. The clouds drift by, weightless. I sit on the garden bench, my eyes lost in the endless blue.
This is where I come every morning, to seek a quiet that never truly comes. For hours, I sit in silence, watching the world move, yet feeling nothing.
She sits beside me, a daring move, though I've never told her to keep her distance. The others, I know, disapprove, but she is the one who dares to stay.
"Is reading your only hobby, Your Highness?"
It takes me a minute to answer. "I guess. I don't really do much." I guess my most favorite thing to do before is to wander around the castle with my bodyguard. Nothing more. I actually despised reading books before. Would always get scolded. Now things have turned.
"Then, how about Your Highness do something else?" she says. "Perhaps embroidery?"
I don't know why I'm still letting her talk to me. Perhaps it's because I am lonely. "I don't like it."
"Oh. Then, how about something else?" she says. "Let's see. When I was young..."
When I was young, I was free. Confined, yet not caged. When I was young, I was happy. Such that it did not matter what I would do. Whether I sit or laugh, or eat or talk, I was happy. Because I was free.
Because I was alive.
The sky becomes a blur of blue and white.
"I would like to be alone," I say, my voice firm. "And do not bother me anymore."
She stands, bows, withdraws. I close my heavy eyes.
Is this my life, now?
How long will I be like this?
Caged and broken.
I am lonely.
"...Yona."
It feels as if I've just emerged from the depths of a dark, endless sea, blinking as the world comes into focus—slowly, almost reluctantly. The pain in my neck pulls me from the haze, reminding me of how long I've been sitting, motionless.
Has it been an entire day? The surroundings is bathed in shadow now, the quiet, suffocating dark of nightfall.
A voice cuts through the silence, sharp and sudden. "Princess Yona."
A shadow steps into the dim light, and I see his face —Keishuk, the king's advisor. My heart sinks.
"Greetings, Your Highness Princess Yona," he says, bowing his head slightly, his voice smooth, calculated. "Forgive me for disturbing your rest, but the maids mentioned you've been here for hours. This is not good for your health."
No one else is around. I take a breath, steady myself, hiding the unease that churns within me. My emotions are a whirlwind of fear and indifference, and I keep them tightly locked away.
"This may not be our first meeting," he says, "but this is the first time we are speaking to each other. Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Keishuk, Advisor to His Majesty King Suwon."
"Greetings, Advisor Keishuk," I reply, try to keep my voice steady. "What brings you here?"
"It is late, but I would like to invite Your Highness to an evening tea," he says. "I have something to discuss with you."
We go to the guest room, to have our evening tea. Keishuk sits across from me, a subtle smile on his lips as one of my maids pours tea into a cup before drinking it herself, then stepping back. Another maid refills my cup, then retreats quietly into the corner.
"I would like to speak in private, Your Highness," Keisuk says.
I glance at my maids, hesitate.
"I bring you no harm, Princess Yona. Rest assured, His Majesty would have my head should harm befalls you in my presence."
I take a deep breath in. "Leave us."
When my maids have gone out of the door, Keishuk leans closer, voice falling into whisper. "Your Highness' personal maids have interesting backgrounds, did you know? His Majesty Suwon has selected them himself." He glances at the door. "For instance, only one of them is not immune to poison."
What is he saying?
"Why are you telling these things to me?" I ask, my voice full of caution. I cannot trust this man.
"His Majesty does not know of this visit," he says. "I came here on my own accord, while His Majesty is occupied. As for my reason, I would like us to not be indifferent towards each other, Princess Yona."
The whole room pauses. I stare at my cup, for a long time. What does he want? What does he need? He said he has something to discuss with me.
I glance at his figure, look through who he is. He's an advisor to the king. Why would he come to me, if I am just a helpless little princess?
I can only think of one thing.
"If you think I could persuade Suwon to do something you want, you're mistaken," I say firmly. "For instance... you've always wanted to kill me, right? But did you know? When I was locked in that room, I kept begging him to kill me. Yet he never did."
Here I stand up, using my long forgotten authority to end this conversation.
"He never listens to me. He never does. You're wasting your time here, Advisor Keishuk. If you'll excuse me, I will take my leave."
"You're mistaken, Princess Yona," he says. "I did not come here to ask for such matters. All I want is to be on good terms with the future queen, and nothing more. I may have suggested His Majesty to silence you before, but that was to protect His Majesty Suwon's seat, not out of personal grudges. Besides, times have changed now."
He rises too.
"On the other hand, it is late, and His Majesty must be on his way here soon." He bows. "It was nice having tea with you, Your Highness. Thank your for your generosity. Rest assured, if you need something, this servant is yours."
Eyes wary and weary, I watch as he leaves, exits the room. Perhaps he's saying the truth; or he's not. If I were to become the queen, I will have the power to influence the king's decisions.
He could never get rid of me: Suwon will have his head. He couldn't get rid of me, so he would at least appeal to me.
Rest assured, though: I will never be on their side.
I remember what they'd done to my father. And to me. And to the ones who were on my side. I remember.