Chapter Text
- ♛ -
Prologue:
He shouldn’t have been there.
He was supposed to be studying but the East Wing’s library had always been his sanctuary. He had been looking for a specific historical text, which his mother had mentioned was tucked away in her personal archives, when he found the box.
It was a simple thing, made of weathered wood, hidden behind a row of heavy historical tomes of the Kingdom of Hanyang. He shouldn’t have opened it. But curiosity had always been his defining trait, a restless need to know what lay beneath the surface. Instead of royal decrees, there were only letters.
He didn’t mean to read them. But a familiar name caught his eye and the world seemed to tilt on its axis.
Gyeoul-ah,
I still can't believe it. He finally turned one. The year passed just like that. He was so small when I gave birth to him and he had such a tiny voice… my little Wonwoo. After all those years of trying for a child, I feel like my life has only started when he arrived.
By the way, congratulations to your twins! The whole nation was celebrating and I, too, was glad to hear it from you first. But I read your last letter twice. I understand the weight of your worries now that you have three children to rear; royal or not, bringing life to this imperfect world brings out the protective instinct in us, huh?
But if the time comes when your children need someone they can trust implicitly — someone outside the walls of protocol — then let it be my son. I agree with what you said: they shouldn’t grow up surrounded only by people who want something from them.
Let’s make it a promise. My Wonwoo as a companion to yours. One day, when the toddlers we’re rearing now are men, they’ll have each other to lean on. I’ll raise him to be the kind of man your House can rely on, just as I’ve always relied on you.
On your side as always,
Yeonwoo
The paper trembled in his hand. He stopped breathing.
My Wonwoo as a companion to yours.
He read that sentence twice before placing back the letter into the box. His hands were now empty but the weight of the words in the letter stayed in his palms, cold and permanent. He had thought their meeting in the university halls had been a coincidence. A stroke of luck.
He was wrong. It was a transaction.
In that moment, he realized that the Crown had always dictated everything in his life, even the parts he thought were his own. He had been raised to respect the order of things and to always understand what he could have and couldn’t.
Chapter 1: Fish out of Water
Wonwoo’s life had never been a fairytale.
He grew up in the port city of Changwon, down in the Southern Region of Hanyang, born to a simple fishing family. He kept his dreams limited to what his reality could provide; he had learned young enough that dreaming beyond his means would only rob him of happiness.
The biggest leap he had made so far in his twenty-eight years of life was entering the Royal University of Hanyang as a scholar years ago. But even that historical campus paled in comparison to the grandeur of the scenery in front of him now.
Wonwoo could hear his own breathing as he took in the entrance of the Main Palace. It wasn’t even the main entrance; he was being escorted through a private gate behind the East Wing. Still, the foyer, if he could even call it that, was ten times bigger than his house in Changwon.
The house that had been destroyed by the storms recently hitting the south. Their family home was the only thing his parents had left him. The only thing he could call his own. But it was now sitting on the ground, nothing but debris swept away by the sea he once loved.
Wonwoo took a gulp, determined not to cry on his first day in this temporary shelter.
“You’re finally here,” a warm, familiar voice startled him.
He turned to see a figure that was a staple of the national news. The woman who had been the nation’s face since the start of the 24th reign of the House of Ahns. But to Wonwoo, she had been his late mother’s anchor.
“Auntie Gyeoul,” Wonwoo blurted, earning a sharp look from the woman in the suit following her. “I mean… Your Majesty.”
Wonwoo attempted a bow to show respect but Gyeoul was quick to catch his shoulders.
“I’m glad you’re safe, adeul,” Gyeoul said, caressing Wonwoo’s face the way she always did when she visited his mother in the south. It was the same way she had held him two years ago at his mother’s funeral, finally allowing Wonwoo to burst into tears after days of putting up a brave face for everyone else. His eyes blurred at the memory.
“Thank you, Auntie,” he whispered, still unsure if he was truly allowed to call the Queen of the nation by such a name here. “But I think this is too much.”
Gyeoul looked at him curiously as Wonwoo gestured toward the East Wing Palace.
“I just need a temporary place to live. Any quarters or an old apartment in Changwon would do. I don’t think I should move into your… house.”
Gyeoul smiled understandingly. “Putting you in a shelter wouldn’t calm my heart, Wonwoo. And it wouldn’t calm your mom’s, either.”
There it goes, Wonwoo thought. His weakness. He loved his parents, especially his mom, and he had tried to live as good a life as possible for them.
“Besides,” Gyeoul wrapped her hand around Wonwoo’s arm as they started to walk deeper into the East Wing. “You’re in your third year of residency now. The Yulje University Hospital campus in Changwon was also damaged. We have placed temporary tents there and designated royal doctors to cater to the residents but I don’t think it would be conducive for a medical practitioner to learn in that environment. At least here in the capital, you can continue your studies.”
Wonwoo could only nod. Finishing his residency in Orthopedics was the only goal keeping him sane these days. He would figure out his life after that. But lately, the universe seemed to throw him curveballs as if he were a cursed being.
“Jinjoo-ya,” Gyeoul called out to the woman following one step behind. “Is Wonwoo’s lodging arranged?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Jinjoo replied, opening her tablet. “He will be using the spare room in the princes’ floor. We have converted it to be conducive to his needs.”
“Great, thanks Jinjoo,” Gyeoul smiled fondly before turning back to Wonwoo, whose face must have shown a sign of discomfort. “Don’t worry, Wonwoo. It’s just a simple room. My sons don’t use it anymore, so we put in a simple bed, a bookshelf, and a study table for you. Nothing grand, don’t worry.”
“Thank you, Auntie.”
“Stop thanking me.” Gyeoul stopped just before a set of double doors. “You might not believe this but I know exactly what you feel at the moment. I didn’t grow up in a palace, either. Just treat this as a regular home, okay? It’s a bit bigger than usual, but…” they both chuckled. “It’s just my home. And now, it’s yours.”
Wonwoo nodded, comforted by the only person he knew who missed his mother as much as he did.
“Now, are you ready for dinner?” Gyeoul asked. It sounded simple but Wonwoo knew what she truly meant.
Her whole family would be there. Not just any family, but the Hanyang Royals he had only seen from afar during his university days. Royals he would only encounter in passing… except for one.
One he wasn’t sure he wanted to see again. Not because he hated him but because he wasn’t sure his heart was strong enough to handle being in his orbit once more.
- ♛ -
Dinner in a royal household was a bit like how a normal family would eat, Wonwoo learned.
Except for the fact that several palace kitchen staff were serving food and attending to everyone’s needs even before they could utter a word. The atmosphere in the East Wing dining area was somewhat similar to the one he had grown up with in Changwon, though he couldn’t help but think his home had been warmer.
Wonwoo was an only child. His mother had struggled to conceive, so they had given up early on providing him with siblings. Still, he had been close to his parents. Them leaving him alone had left a big hole in his heart. The three of them had been tight knit.
So, it was a surprise for Wonwoo to see how a family this large could be so close, especially given their stature. Maintaining a close-knit family must have been difficult, yet his mother’s friend— the Hanyang Queen, his Auntie Gyeoul — was currently smiling broadly at an anecdote from her third son, Baram, about his last baseball game.
So this is the family he grew up with, Wonwoo thought, glancing at one of the two empty seats at the dining table.
He wasn’t sure if he was relieved when he was told some members of the family wouldn’t join them due to work and prior commitments. Wonwoo had always preferred facing things head-on, so this felt like a temporary reprieve from something inevitable.
“So, Wonwoo,” the King’s voice pierced through his thoughts. He sat up visibly straight, causing the youngest royal, Jiyoon, to chuckle at his awkwardness. “You’re studying Orthopedics? That’s interesting.”
“Yes, sir.” Wonwoo’s voice quaked but he balled his fists as if squeezing out every ounce of confidence he had left. He knew Ahn Jeongwon had once been a medical student himself before being thrust onto the throne, a personal story that was part of the nation’s history. As he began to talk about a subject he genuinely loved, his body finally relaxed.
“It might be a popular specialization here in the capital, but in the south, surgeons are very rare. When I was an intern and still deciding on a path, I encountered so many ortho cases that we had to fly out to other hospitals. It would take two or three hours by land, and even then, there was no guarantee the lone orthopedic doctor there could take another patient. We’re grateful to Your Majesty for the generosity in prioritizing healthcare, but the concentration of specialists is still an issue. Knowing that the population in Changwon is aging, I know they’ll need me there, sir.”
Wonwoo had been looking at his plate the whole time, so when he looked up to address the King, he was surprised to see a small smile, one both proud and amused, playing on the head royal’s lips. His eyes roamed the table and saw Gyeoul nodding proudly at him as well.
“Wow, you really are a doctor,” Baram uttered, making everyone at the table chuckle, Wonwoo included.
“What did you think he was all this time? A clown?” Hayoon, the first princess, laughed at the silliness of Baram’s reaction. “Don’t take him seriously, Wonwoo,” she said, turning to him. Her eyes locked onto his.
They have the same eyes, Wonwoo noted, quickly berating himself for the observation. Of course they did. She was that person’s twin sister. They weren’t fraternal but the resemblance was striking.
“That was indeed impressive,” Jeongwon said as the siblings continued to bicker in the background. “I know it was devastating to see what happened in the south but you should focus on your studies here for now. That’s the best thing you can do.”
Wonwoo smiled, feeling a spark of pride at receiving such a compliment from the most influential man in the country. “Thank you, sir. I will focus on finishing my residency for now but I’ll definitely go back to my hometown.”
“Already? But you just arrived,” a voice he knew all too well announced an arrival at the dining table.
Everyone turned to the two figures walking toward the family table.
Mingyu, Wonwoo wanted to utter out loud, realizing how much he missed saying that first name not everyone was allowed to use. But within the four walls of the Palace, he looked nothing like the medical school junior Wonwoo had spent precious time with at the university.
He was clad in a pinstripe suit, his hair styled perfectly with a single stray lock curling over his forehead. He looked nothing like the sleep-deprived student who had sat beside him in the library years ago.
Here, he was undeniably the second in line to the throne — the Second Prince of Hanyang — and nothing like the Mingyu from university.
“Oppa!” Jiyoon jumped up to greet Mingyu then quickly moved to hug another royal who came in.
Wonwoo stood up, unsure of the protocol for meeting the Crown Prince. Sure, Jeonghan had been Wonwoo’s senior at the university, but unlike his younger brother, Wonwoo had never encountered him this closely.
“You must be Wonwoo,” Jeonghan offered his hand just as Wonwoo bowed formally. The prince laughed at his clumsiness, shaking Wonwoo’s hand as if they were simply colleagues.
As Wonwoo looked up, his eyes, as they always did, landed on Mingyu. For some reason, Mingyu had a stern look on his face as he watched Wonwoo’s hand let go of his brother’s. But the expression dissipated quickly, as if Wonwoo had imagined it. It was replaced by the same polished smile he used to charm the people of Hanyang.
“Long time no see, Wonwoo Jeon,” Mingyu said, patting his shoulder. He couldn’t have known that the slight touch sent every memory Wonwoo had suppressed over the last three years rushing back to the surface.
“Yeah. It’s been a while,” Wonwoo said, clearing his throat.
He watched Mingyu take the seat directly across from him while Jeonghan sat beside him. He took a long, deep breath, trying to steady himself. He knew this wouldn’t be his last encounter with him. With Mingyu.
The man who had broken his heart.
- ♛ -
Three years ago
Royal University of Hanyang – Senior Year
Wonwoo’s research project was falling apart and it was entirely Mingyu’s fault.
For weeks, the junior who had followed him like a loyal golden retriever — the sunshine of the School of Medicine and Public Health — had turned into a total stranger. He was missing deadlines, acting out during classes, and behaving with a cold arrogance that was putting their joint work in jeopardy.
As a senior, getting this research project from Professor Chae Songhwa had been the opportunity of a lifetime. It was supposed to be Wonwoo’s ticket to a future that wasn’t even in his dreams. It would have allowed him to stay in the capital longer. To stay in the city he once dreaded, all for the sake of the man who had made medical school bearable. With graduation and internship only months away, this was supposed to be their final stretch together. Instead, Mingyu was burning it all down.
Wonwoo had stayed late to fix Mingyu’s careless errors, skipping precious hours of sleep to cover the gaps. But as Mingyu prepared to walk out of the lab without a word of explanation, Wonwoo’s patience finally snapped.
“Mingyu! Stop!” Wonwoo’s voice echoed sharply in the empty hallway of the research wing.
Mingyu didn’t even turn around. He just kept walking, his shoulders tense under his white coat, heading toward the exit as if Wonwoo didn’t exist.
The dismissal was the final straw. Wonwoo didn’t think; he just reacted. He kicked off one of his sneakers and flung it with practiced aim. It hit Mingyu squarely in the center of his back.
The Prince stopped. He stood frozen for a second, the heavy silence of the hallway punctuated only by the soft thud of the shoe hitting the floor. Mingyu turned around slowly, his face a mask of coldness that Wonwoo had never seen before.
“What is your problem?” Mingyu asked, his voice low and dangerous.
“I should be asking you that!” Wonwoo stepped forward, ignoring the fact that he was standing half-shoeless on the cold floor. “You’re not this jerk you’re portraying right now. This isn’t you, Mingyu.”
Mingyu’s expression didn’t soften. Instead, he closed the distance between them, looming over Wonwoo until his shadow felt like a physical weight. “What right do you have to say that?”
Wonwoo felt the sting of the words but he didn’t back down. He met Mingyu’s gaze with the same stubbornness that had gotten him through years of poverty. They were so close now that Wonwoo could smell the familiar scent of Mingyu’s peppermint perfume, a scent that used to mean safety but now felt like a taunt.
“Because I know… I know you too much,” Wonwoo whispered, his voice trembling. “Seeing you act like this… it hurts.”
Mingyu let out a sharp, mocking breath. “Stop caring too much just because we hang out and I treated you like a friend.”
A friend. The word felt like a physical slap. Wonwoo’s voice dropped, barely audible. “A friend… is that all this was?”
“Why?” Mingyu countered, his eyes searching Wonwoo’s with a cruel intensity that made Wonwoo’s breath hitch. He leaned in closer, his voice barely a whisper against Wonwoo’s skin. “Did you think of it as anything else?”
Wonwoo didn’t blink. He locked his gaze onto Mingyu’s, refusing to let the tears fall. “You know damn well you didn’t treat me as just a friend. And you know exactly where my heart is right now.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. For a split second, the mask slipped. Mingyu’s gaze dropped to Wonwoo’s lips before darting back to his eyes, and he let out a long, ragged sigh that sounded like a confession in itself.
“You shouldn’t have allowed yourself to do that,” Mingyu said, his voice no longer angry but desperately sad instead.
“But what can I do?” Wonwoo’s voice finally broke, a single tear escaping. “It’s you it chooses to like.”
For a fleeting moment, a sliver of that old, soft gaze returned to Mingyu’s eyes. The look he used to give Wonwoo when they were the only two left in the library at 3:00 AM. For one heartbeat, it felt like he might reach out and pull Wonwoo into the space between them.
But then, the weight of the Crown seemed to settle back onto his shoulders. The distance returned, colder than before.
“We don’t belong in the same world, Wonwoo,” Mingyu said, his voice flat and final. “You have a path laid out for you and so do I. And yours shouldn’t involve me.”
- ♛ -
If Wonwoo could tell his past self that he would still be seeing Mingyu after that final encounter in the research wing, he would have just laughed at the absurdity of it. Back then, his words had felt like a permanent border crossing. He had spent three years convinced he had successfully emigrated from Mingyu’s life.
Yet, here he was, watching the border collapse over a set of porcelain tea service.
As the King and Queen retreated to their private quarters, the heavy formality of the dinner evaporated, replaced by the chaotic energy of the siblings. Wonwoo watched them — the way Jiyoon clung to her brothers, the way Baram and Hayoon bickered over baseball stats — and realized he was looking at a side of Mingyu he had never truly known.
He learned the delicate and very exhausting math of their lives. Jeonghan carried the public weight of the Crown; Jiyoon was shielded by her youth; and Mingyu... Mingyu was the bridge. He was balancing a Pedia residency with a public schedule as packed as the Heir’s, taking on extra duties just to lighten the load for his parents.
“Let’s fly kites!” Jiyoon’s voice broke through Wonwoo’s thoughts. She looked at her brothers with pleading eyes. “Classes start again soon and the indoor garden is perfect tonight.”
One by one, the siblings agreed… except for Mingyu.
“I have an early shift at the hospital,” Mingyu excused himself, his voice polite but firm. “You guys go ahead.”
Jiyoon turned to Wonwoo, her eyes bright. “You too, Wonwoo-ssi!”
“I’ll follow in a moment,” Wonwoo promised, needing a second to let the room stop spinning.
As the trail of royals headed toward the garden, the tea room fell into a sudden silence. It was just the two of them. Wonwoo felt the weight of the three years between them pressing against his chest like a physical bruise.
“I... I’m sorry if I made things awkward earlier,” Wonwoo began, his voice barely more than a whisper. “And I hope you’re okay with me staying here. I didn’t mean to intrude on your home.”
Mingyu turned, and for a heartbeat, Wonwoo looked for the junior who used to buy him late-night coffee. But the man who looked back wore his princely smile, the polished and practiced curve of the lips he used for diplomats and strangers.
“It’s all in the past, Wonwoo-ssi,” Mingyu assured him, his tone light and hollow. He let out a small, professional-sounding chuckle. “And don’t worry about run-ins. Between my residency and my royal schedule, I’m barely here. You’ll have the Wing to yourself most days.”
It was a dismissal wrapped in a joke. Wonwoo forced a smile, nodding as they both began to walk away separately. Mingyu toward the private quarters, Wonwoo toward the garden.
“Wonwoo.”
The name stopped him in his tracks. It wasn’t the formal ‘Wonwoo Jeon’ during the dinner nor the polite ‘Wonwoo-ssi’ from a moment ago. It was the voice from the university library. The voice that had haunted his quietest nights in Changwon.
Wonwoo turned back. Mingyu was standing in the shadows of the corridor, the pinstripe suit and the royal posture momentarily forgotten. His expression was raw, his prince mask finally slipping to reveal the man underneath.
“I’m glad you’re safe, Wonwoo.”
Before Wonwoo could find the words to respond, Mingyu disappeared into the darkness of the hall, leaving Wonwoo standing alone with a heart that had started to beat again.
- ♛ -
[Chapter 1 Epilogue]
Mingyu usually slept like a log after the bone-deep exhaustion of public duty, but tonight, rest felt like a foreign concept. Even the steaming shower he’d just taken couldn’t settle the unexplainable restlessness in his veins. His body felt as though it were on high alert, vibrating with a tension he couldn’t name, or perhaps, a tension he simply refused to acknowledge.
A swirl of laughter drifted through the balcony door. He hadn’t realized he’d left it ajar.
Without a second thought, his feet moved. It was a reflexive pull, as if that specific, familiar deep laugh possessed a magnetic field that had always, inevitably, drawn Mingyu toward its center.
Wonwoo.
Mingyu stood in the shadows of the balcony, invisible to the world below. He watched as Wonwoo adjusted his glasses, his shoulders shaking with a genuine laugh at something Baram had said, a comment that earned the third prince a playful shove from Hayoon.
His twin sister still had enough energy to chase Baram around the garden as if they were still toddlers, their joy echoing off the stone walls. Nearby, Jiyoon was completely absorbed in the kite Jeonghan had helped her launch, her face lit with concentration.
His nerves ramped up as he watched his brother approach Wonwoo.
The Crown Prince leaned in, saying something quiet that made Wonwoo nod in agreement before breaking into a wide and brilliant smile. It was the kind of smile Wonwoo used to reserve for their late night study sessions in the library. It was warm, unguarded, and full of life.
Mingyu should have been happy. He should have been relieved to see the light returning to Wonwoo’s eyes after the nightmare in the south. But instead, a jagged ache bloomed in his chest, sharper than any surgical blade.
He stepped back into the darkness of his room, the sight of Wonwoo standing in the middle of the palace felt like a glimpse into a future that had been written without their consent.
“Their plan is really working,” Mingyu whispered to the empty room, his voice thick with a bitterness he couldn’t quite suppress. “He’s exactly where he belongs.”