"Some in the court," Merchant Bao lowered his voice, "still believe the Seventh Prince… killed his own brother."
Leena blinked. "…What?"
"Back then, he was only ten," the merchant whispered.
"The Sixteenth Prince—such a gentle boy—died under mysterious circumstances.
No culprit was ever found… but there are whispers. Whispers that his own brother…"
"Lies!"
Chen Yu slammed his teacup down, startling everyone.
"The Seventh Prince loved his brother more than anyone!
He… he still mourns him. And yet the court turned its back on him."
The room fell silent.
Even Bao Wen's stoic eyes flickered toward Chen Yu, then back to Leena.
Leena lowered her gaze.
In that moment, her chest felt heavy for reasons she couldn't explain.
The image of the cold, proud Seventh Prince…
…as a little boy, crying alone, with no one to defend him—
It made her heart twist.
That evening
The tea gathering ended quietly.
Chen Yu returned to his own home, still grumbling about court snakes and old rumors.
Leena paced her new room in the merchant estate.
Her mind kept bouncing between the prince's sad childhood…
…and her own shame at how she had barked at Bao Wen like a little guard dog.
"Maya… do you think he's angry with me?" she muttered.
Maya stifled a laugh.
"…He barely spoke a word, Madam. I think he found you… amusing."
Leena puffed her cheeks.
"That's worse!"
She grabbed a pencil and a sheet of paper.
Her fingers began to move on instinct.
A single jasmine flower bloomed on the page, each petal soft and delicate.
Back home, a jasmine tree had grown near her window.
Its scent always reminded her of her father.
She signed the corner and exhaled.
"…I'll give it to him as an apology."
By the time she stepped outside, the sky glowed gold with the sinking sun.
Shadows stretched long across the estate, and the cicadas had begun their evening song.
Leena tiptoed through the quiet halls, holding the drawing to her chest.
Finally, she found the soldier's room—a sturdy wooden door with a single lantern flickering beside it.
Knock. Knock.
"…Bao Wen?"
No answer.
She hesitated, then pushed the door open.
The room was neat and empty.
…but as she stepped inside, her heart skipped.
Shock.
Right on the desk—
glinting in the sun, was a silver hairpin.
Delicate, with tiny jasmine flowers carved along its stem.
And at the base, an engraved letter: L.
Her fingers trembled as she picked it up.
She knew this piece.
She had lost it years ago… in her father's garden.
"…Why… why does he have this?" she whispered.
A shiver ran down her spine.
Then she noticed the journal tucked under a folded cloth.
Curiosity tugged at her.
She hesitated… then lifted the cover.
Sketches.
Page after page of the Seventh Prince.
Some drawn with soft strokes… others sharp, almost cold.
Notes in the margins:
"Leaves the palace at dawn—alone."
"Spends time with Leena at the market."
Her stomach dropped.
What… is this?
The floor creaked.
She spun around—heart leaping to her throat.
Bao Wen leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, voice low.
"…Enjoying yourself, snooping through my things?"