In the vast expanse outside the palace, Ha-Joon stood tall, draped in his majestic grey elemental cloth.
The fabric shimmered like a stormy sky—embroidered with intricate silver patterns that curled and spiraled like lightning bolts and swirling clouds.
As the wind danced around him, his grey hair fluttered wildly, blending seamlessly with the tempestuous aura he radiated.
He looked out from the grand steps, his presence commanding and ethereal.
He spotted In-Su waiting nearby, his expression one of anxious anticipation.
Slowly, Ha-Joon began to approach him, each step deliberate and measured, like the tide itself moving forward. In-Su saw him coming, a smile spreading across his face, warm and genuine.
"Congratulations, Bolt," In-Su said softly, eyes shining with pride. "On becoming the Prince of Mire."
Ha-Joon chuckled softly, a gentle sound that echoed in the quiet air.
"Thank you so much," he replied quietly, a subtle smile touching his lips. Then, a shadow of doubt crossed his face, and he sighed deeply.
"I've never thought… I will… remember everything," Ha-Joon admitted, voice tinged with wonder and confusion. "In fact, I've never thought of anything."
In-Su took a few steps closer, his gaze calm but curious. "I know you didn't. Neither did I. But now—" he paused, "—we have one thing in common: we are both princes of different worlds."
His gaze shifted, landing on the flute slung behind Ha-Joon.
The instrument gleamed faintly in the sunlight, almost alive with magic. In-Su whispered, almost to himself, "Hm…"
Ha-Joon's lips curled into a faint smile. He reached behind him and drew out the flute slowly—its surface shimmering with a faint, celestial glow.
"This is my baby… my flute," Ha-Joon whispered reverently. "I missed it so much. Now I remember—I can even turn it into a magic sword."
His voice grew serious, a hint of nostalgia and power intertwined. "Yes. And I will use it for the battle ahead."
In-Su nodded, understanding the weight of those words. "You'll use it for battle, right?"
Ha-Joon's smile faded into a more solemn expression. "I believe so… unfortunately," he said softly, sadness creeping into his voice like shadows lengthening at dusk.
In-Su looked at him reassuringly, a gentle smile on his face.
"Don't worry. I don't mind as long as you're the one killing me. I won't hurt you." His tone was light, but his eyes held conviction and trust.
Ha-Joon looked at him, still sad but grateful for the reassurance.
The wind blew again, carrying their silent promises into the stormy sky, as the two princes faced the uncertain battles ahead.
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The living room radiated opulence—plush velvet sofas in deep emerald and sapphire hues were arranged around a gleaming marble coffee table with delicate gold accents.
A grand crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, shimmering glow.
Tall windows draped with heavy silk curtains allowed soft sunlight to filter in, illuminating paintings with gilded frames and ornate vases that decorated the space.
Rich carpets covered the polished wooden floors, completing the luxurious atmosphere.
Seated in this elegant setting was Ji-Hoo, sitting with his hands on his lap, fists slightly clenched.
He let out a deep sigh, his gaze fixed ahead on the group standing before him.
His Mom, Mrs. Jung, was a woman of graceful refinement. Her gentle smile and warm eyes radiated maternal pride.
She wore a silk dress in a soft pastel shade, her long hair styled in gentle waves that framed her face.
His Dad, Mr. Jung, was tall and dignified, with a calm yet commanding presence.
His dark hair was neatly combed back, and he dressed in a tailored suit that hinted at wealth and authority.
Standing before them were five people: Mrs. Lee, Mr. Lee, a young woman named Ryoko, and her parents.
Mrs. Jung tilted her head softly, her smile widening.
"Our son is the best you will ever find," she said softly, pride evident in her voice. "He knows how to work, cook, clean—everything a man should know."
Turning her gaze to Ryoko, she added warmly, "And as soon as she saw his photo, she liked him."
Ryoko was a vision of elegance and wealth.
She had long, silky black hair that cascaded in perfect waves down her back, shimmering under the sunlight.
Her large, almond-shaped eyes were a deep, captivating brown, framed by thick lashes that made her gaze both charming and confident.
Her skin was porcelain smooth, glowing with a subtle radiance. She wore a luxurious, designer kimono-style dress in rich crimson silk embroidered with intricate gold thread, accentuating her slender figure and regal bearing.
A delicate jade pendant rested at her neck, and her jewelry sparkled subtly, highlighting her refined taste.
She carried herself with an effortless grace, her posture perfect, exuding both wealth and sophistication.
Ryoko's mother, Mrs. Tanaka was a graceful woman with a gentle smile.
She had long, flowing black hair and wore an elegant kimono-style dress that accentuated her mature beauty. Her eyes sparkled with kindness as she spoke.
Mrs. Tanaka said softly, "We know. We're happy that your family's traditions helped us find such a suitable match for our daughter."
Mrs. Jung chuckled gently, her voice light and genuine. "I'm so glad your son is ready to get married. He doesn't need to continue with school he can work with his dad. Or study here."
Mr. Jung nodded with a warm smile.
"We're glad to help. Our son, Ji-Hoo, is very excited," he said happily, although Ji-Hoo's expression was tense, his thoughts bubbling with frustration.
Why are they doing this to me? Ji-Hoo wondered bitterly. Because of some family tradition? Damn it. I only love one person.
His thoughts were interrupted when Mr. Jung, cleared his throat to speak.
"Since we've talked enough, I think Ryoko and Ji-Hoo should speak privately—to get to know each other." Mr. Jung suggested.
Ryoko, shy, sweet girl with a radiant smile, giggled softly. She had a gentle yet confident aura, her rich attire contrasting with her modest demeanor.
"Go on, Ryoko," her mother encouraged gently.
She glanced at Ji-Hoo and offered a soft, genuine smile. "Let's go inside," she whispered softly.
Ji-Hoo stood up stiffly, his demeanor cold and deliberate.
His steps were slow and commanding as he moved further into the house.
Despite his stoic exterior, Ryoko couldn't help but admire him—her cheeks flushing as she kept her gaze on him.
Finally, they reached the balcony, where the wide, peaceful landscape stretched out before them—a stark contrast to the storm of emotions inside Ji-Hoo's heart.