Suwon appears at dawn.
The first light of morning spills faintly through the curtains, casting the room in hues of gold and crimson. The air is still, thick with the silence that follows a night spent waiting.
I lie on the bed, adrift in half-sleep, the echo of Hak's voice still warm in the chambers of my mind. He had vanished hours ago, like a shadow slipping between dreams and the waking world.
The doors burst open. Suwon steps through, breathless, like a man returned from the edge of a nightmare. His nightrobe clings to him, askew, the ties undone. His hair is wild, unruly—so unlike the composed king the world kneels before.
I push myself upright, startled. "Suwon?" But he's already upon me. In a few hurried steps, he crosses the room and falls to his knees beside the bed, arms wrapping around me with a desperate force.
"I thought I lost you," he breathes into my shoulder, and I feel the tremor in his voice—raw, unguarded. "Yona, please… forgive me."
I stiffen in his embrace, the warmth of his body pressing into mine like a memory I've long tried to bury. His hands clutch at the fabric of my gown.
"Suwon…" My voice is a whisper. His name, hollow on my lips.
He pulls back only slightly, his hands still trembling as they hold my arms. His gaze is brimming with some unbearable emotion.
"Thank you," he says, breath hitching, "for keeping your promise."
I blink, startled. "I don't… I don't understand what you mean." Could he have known that Hak was here?
His expression fractures—just a flicker—but I see it. Disbelief, then need, then something darker. "You stayed," he says, almost reverently. "I thought... after everything I did... you'd be gone."
I remain silent, unsure what to say, let him believe the lie. But his fingers find mine, weaving tightly. "You stayed," he repeats, more to himself than to me. "You gave me a second chance."
Then he starts crying. His tears cascading through his angelic face. And for one aching heartbeat, I wonder if he is beyond saving.
"I won't do it again." He holds my hand like a man drowning. His grip is warm, insistent, trembling—like he believes that if he lets go, I'll vanish. "I promise I won't do it again. I'll never leave you again. From now on, we stay together."
Part of me wants to let go. Yet I remain still. My fingers stay in his. My body does not recoil. I force the tremble in my spine to still, force my face into calm.
I wear the mask I've grown so good at wearing. The one he trained me to wear, with every gilded word and poisoned promise.
Because if I don't... Hak will be in danger.
You think I stayed for you.
Why did he suddenly barge in here? Why now... of all the days that passed by. Why only now?
Could he have known... that Hak was here? No... he can't know. There's no way he'll know. Because Hak will not allow it. Hak wouldn't make it harder for him to come back.
Maybe he thinks it was me who put the guards and the maids all to sleep. Maybe he thought I was planning to escape and leave.
This is better. Let him think it was me.
I smile then. Faint. Hollow. Let him think it. That I chose to stay, even though I had the chance. Let him hold the illusion close.
"You should rest," I say, my voice gentle.
Suwon softens. "Alright. I trust you." He leans into my palm, eyes fluttering closed like a child promised safety.
...
The air in the villa has changed. Heavier now. Taut, like the moment before a storm breaks.
Outside, the guards have multiplied. From the window, I can see them: lined like statues, unmoving yet alert. Their armor glints coldly in the morning sun. The scent of iron and tension is thick, even through the walls.
This is not protection. This is prison.
Inside, the maids move like ghosts. Their eyes flit nervously across the floor, their hands trembling as they pour tea or adjust the linens. I catch one of them stealing a glance at me—wide-eyed, uncertain, as if I've become a stranger overnight.
They've been punished. I can feel it in the stiffness of their steps, in the way they avoid meeting my gaze. He must have interrogated them, demanded explanations they could not give.
Do they truly believe it was me? That I drugged their tea? Let them believe it. Let them believe the princess they thought was a wilted petal had grown thorns. Let the whispers start. Let the myth spread. The caged bird who sings no more, but sharpens her claws in silence.
Because if they believe it was me… they won't look for Hak.
And right now, that is all that matters.
...
The days that follow are deceptively quiet. Suwon stays longer, a looming presence. His study room, once tucked away in the heart of the imperial palace, has been relocated inside the villa itself.
He rarely steps outside, and when he does, it's only for council meetings—brief excursions marked by tight-lipped expressions and a trail of silent guards. No one else is permitted to enter or leave the villa. The gates remain sealed, the walls seem taller.
He watches me too closely. His gaze trails me like a shadow I can't outrun. His touches, once careful, have grown bolder. Lingering. Hungry. There's no mistaking the shift—they've become more aggressive, less about affection and more about need. A need he no longer masks with polite words or princely restraint.
He wants more of me. Every night, I feel it in the way his eyes linger, in the pause of his hand on my back, the way he waits in bed.
But I do not give it to him. I've withheld everything I can—my affection, my thoughts, my body. Not to punish, but to survive.
To keep something that is still mine.
And I don't know how long that will hold. I don't know how long he'll be patient. How long before he breaks whatever vow he's made to himself. He hasn't forced himself on me. Not yet. He still treats me as a princess. Still speaks to me as if I am something sacred, something not to be defiled.
But even sacred things can be broken.
The night is dark, tonight. The moon and the stars, they are hidden beyond the clouds, which seem to stretch endlessly. The world is drowned in shadows.
The wind stirs restless. It's getting colder each day. Autumn is coming to an end. The cold seeps through the layers of my robes, pressing into my skin. I shiver, instinctively hugging my arms tighter around myself.
The door bursts open without a knock. Suwon enters, stumbles. His steps are uneven, his eyes clouded.
"Yona," he says, voice too soft. He comes straight for me, hands already reaching. His mouth finds my cheek, too close to my lips, and I push him back on instinct. His breath reeks of alcohol. "Yona," he repeats, slower, his hands tightening around my waist. "Why do you push me away?"
"You're drunk," I say.
He presses his forehead against my shoulder, his fingers curling into my robe. "No, you don't understand. I ache for you, all the time. Every second. But you're someplace else. You always are."
"But I'm here," I say sarcastically. "You just can't accept that I don't want to be here."
He doesn't hear me. Or maybe he does and chooses not to. "I want all of you, Yona," he whispers, his voice cracked open. "Give me your heart. Your soul. All of it. Please."
"Let's just go to sleep," I sigh.
"No." His grip tightens. Then, he lets out a laugh. "No matter what I do, you'll always push me away, won't you?"
My entire body stiffens. But I cannot run.
Tonight, he stops asking. Tonight, he takes.
And I can't do anything but cry—silent, shaking sobs that he doesn't see or doesn't want to see. I turn my face away, I go still, I wait for it to be over.
But he won't let me.
"Look at me," he says. "Look what you did to me."
And I cry harder. Because I hate myself for loving him. I hate myself, because I was a fool. And I begin to blame myself. It was all my fault.
If only I hadn't give myself to him that night. If only I'd held back, just a moment longer, let caution speak louder than longing. If only I'd chosen to walk away instead of reaching for a touch that would unravel everything. If only I'd been brave enough to resist the ache in my chest, the whisper of hope in my heart.
If only I hadn't let myself fall.
When it is all over, I curl into myself, close my eyes tight. Something has broken. Inside me. And I don't know if I will ever be whole again.
In the morning, I see myself in the mirror. My reflection awaits - burning eyes, burning hair. There is something new there, too. A flicker behind the eyes.
Inside me, something stirs. Not bitterness. Not fear. But clarity. The realization that the girl who once loved him is gone. She died tonight.
What's left of me now is a woman who will soon strike him down.