The next morning came quietly. Ha-ru knew it would be the same as yesterday. Light spilled through the thin window, pale and weak. Ha-ru's body ached in every joint. His hands were still sore from yesterday's work, but the steward's sharp voice would not wait for him to rest.
He dressed quickly, leaving his hair loose. The other servants were already moving like shadows, whispering barely a word, keeping their heads low.
In the courtyard, his fingers ached as he carried buckets of water. The fountain's stone edges were covered eith moss, and each step was careful. He felt every ache, every strain, but he did not stop.
A sudden noise startled him. A tray clattered near the kitchen steps. The steward's harsh voice cut through the air like a whip.
"Be faster! Careless hands make disasters!"
Ha-ru froze, heart pounding. His hands were wet, his grip tight on the bucket. The kitchen girl's eyes met his for a moment. No words passed, only a shared fear. She nodded slightly, and he nodded back. A small connection, almost invisible.
Through the long day, Ha-ru moved like a ghost. Every bow, every step, every tray balanced perfectly.
By evening, his body was heavy and trembling. Returning to the dormitory, Ha-ru saw the thin mats lined up in the dim light. Each servant sank silently onto theirs, too tired to speak.
Tonight, he realized something: the palace was not just a place of work. It was a place that could break bodies and souls.
He lay down, pulling the blanket close. The whispers of others faded...
A small noise made him startle. Someone shifted on the mat beside him. He held his breath, listening. The servant let out a quiet sigh and turned over. Nothing more. But the night suddenly felt heavier, filled with unspoken things.
He pressed the thin blanket closer, as if it could shield him from thoughts he did not want. He pulse raced. He hated it.
Sleep came only briefly, slipping past him like water. When he finally drifted, he couldn't tell what was happening around him.. it was a deep sleep of tiredness.
[2 weeks of working as a palace maid]
Morning came again, pale and cold. Ha-ru rose from his straw mat, his body stiff and sore. The dormitory was already alive with quiet movement. Servants slipped past each other, carrying buckets, brooms, and trays. Every sound was small, careful, measured as it had been for the past days.
Today, Ha-ru would follow the other servants into the palace halls for the first time. The corridors were vast and lined with beautiful polished wood.
The steward's eyes were sharp, watching every movement. "Move," he snapped. "Mistakes cost more than work."
Ha-ru swallowed, keeping his head low. He balanced the tray with careful hands, carrying water to the palace kitchens first, then to the chambers of the higher servants. Every bow, every turn, every footstep had to be perfect.
As he worked, he caught glimpses of the nobles passing through the halls. Their robes were rich, their movements easy. Ha-ru felt the distance between them like a wall pressing down on him.
And then, across the hall, he saw him. The man in black robes. Seong-jin. Ha-ru hadn't seen him for two full weeks since the encounter on his first day of work.
The prince's eyes lifted, scanning the servants as he walked with quiet command. The gaze was brief, almost casual but it landed on him.
His hands shook slightly. He forced himself to bow, to look away, to continue his task.
The day passed in a blur of carrying, cleaning, and serving. The weight of the palace, the eyes of the prince, and the unspoken tension in every step left Ha-ru exhausted.
When night came, he returned to the dormitory, body aching and mind restless. He lay on the thin mat, staring at the wooden beams above as he has always done every other night.
---
[The inner palace]
The emperor sat in his chamber, tall and still. His eyes scanned the reports in front of him. Every paper, every line of ink, demanded his attention. The court waited for his word.
He had much to decide. Taxes, trade, and messages from distant provinces waited for his judgment. His hands moved deliberately, stamping seals, folding papers, and writing brief orders.
A guard knelt by the door, waiting for permission to leave with a message. The emperor looked up, silent for a moment, then gave a small nod. The guard bowed and left without a word.
Even in these quiet moments, the emperor's presence filled the room. The air seemed heavier here, as if the walls themselves carried his authority.
He suddenly paused, leaning back slightly. He thought of the palace, of his sons, of the duties that could not be ignored. Every choice mattered, every decision had consequences...
While the emperor remained in his chambers, reviewing reports and sealing documents, on the other side, the grand hall buzzed with preparation.
Today, the palace felt alive. Younger princes practiced their calligraphy and swordplay. Their laughter was quiet but controlled. The guards stood at their posts, armor shining in the morning light. Servants moved silently, arranging screens, folding silks, and preparing meals.
Today, visiting nobles from distant provinces had come, and it was the crown prince's responsibility to guide them.
Seong-jin moved through the grand hall. His black robes whispered along the polished floors, his eyes scanning the arrangements.
The nobles arrived in polished carriages, their wheels clicking over the courtyard stones. Servants lined the hall, standing perfectly still. Even the smallest sound could seem loud in the quiet palace.
Seong-jin bowed slightly as the lead noble, Lord Min, approached.
"Your Highness," Lord Min said, his voice polite but cautious. "The palace is… more magnificent than I imagined."
"Thank you," Seong-jin replied smoothly, inclining his head. "It is our duty to maintain it well. I hope your stay is comfortable."
Lord Min's eyes scanned the hall, then flicked toward the palace garden. "The gardens are said to be beautiful. I would be honored to see them."
Seong-jin gestured. "Of course. Follow me, please." His movements were precise, measured, yet effortless. As they walked, he added softly, "The emperor prefers order and quiet. We must all respect that."
The nobles murmured assent. Some whispered among themselves, curious about the young crown prince who spoke with such control.
Lord Min asked another question. "And the emperor? Does he enjoy receiving visitors personally?"
Seong-jin's lips curved in a slight, almost imperceptible smile. "His duties are many. It is my honor to guide guests in his stead."
The visitors nodded, impressed. Even in leisure, the palace demanded perfection, and Seong-jin embodied it.
As they approached the garden, a young servant carrying a tray stumbled slightly. Seong-jin's eyes flicked toward him, calm but sharp. The servant froze, then steadied the tray. The prince moved on, as if nothing had happened.
In the emperor's chamber, the old ruler looked up from his papers when a page entered.
"Your Majesty, the crown prince reports the visitors have arrived and are touring the gardens."
"Good," the emperor said, his voice steady. "Let him handle it."
"Yes, Your Majesty," the page replied, bowing and leaving quietly.
Back in the garden, the nobles admired the flowers, the stone paths, and the koi pond. Seong-jin's voice remained calm and measured as he explained the history of the palace and its traditions.
One of the nobles, Lady Han, smiled and asked, "Prince Seong-jin, do you often walk these gardens?"
"Daily," he replied. "It is a place to think and prepare. Even the smallest detail can be important."
The nobles exchanged glances, impressed by the young prince's poise.
Meanwhile, in the background, Ha-ru moved silently, balancing a tray of fruit. His pulse quickened when he caught sight of the prince passing nearby. Even from a distance, Seong-jin's presence pressed quietly, impossibly, against his thoughts.
The emperor, still in his chambers, continued his work. Each decision he made, each seal he pressed, rippled through the palace. The halls, the gardens, the servants, the nobles all moved as if connected to him, yet the crown prince guided the visitors, showing both his power and his careful control.
By mid-afternoon, the visiting nobles had not yet departed. Seong-jin had escorted them through the gardens and halls, and now they were to meet the emperor and a few trusted ministers in the main audience chamber.
The chamber was vast, with high ceilings and polished floors. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, glinting on the golden accents and silk screens. Guards stood at attention, their armor shining faintly.
The nobles knelt respectfully as the emperor sat on his raised dais, tall and commanding. His robes were dark, his hands folded neatly. Beside him, Minister Choi bowed slightly, holding documents ready for the emperor's inspection.
"Welcome," the emperor said, his voice calm but strong. "I hope your journey was safe. Please, rise and speak freely"
Lord Min rose first. "Your Majesty, we are honored to visit your palace. The grandeur surpasses all we imagined. It is a testament to your wisdom and guidance."
The emperor inclined his head slightly. "You are kind. Yet grandeur is nothing without order and duty. That is the true measure of a palace, and of those who serve within it."
Lady Han stepped forward. "Emperor, we have heard much of your governance. Your attention to both the people and the court is remarkable. We hope to learn from your example."
Minister Choi cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, there are updates from the provinces. Trade reports, harvest reports, and petitions requiring your review." He handed a scroll to the emperor, who examined it carefully, his eyes sharp.
"Excellent," the emperor said. "It is good to hear from the provinces. A kingdom thrives when every part is tended with care."
The nobles exchanged quiet glances. Some whispered questions to one another, curious about the emperor's methods, his calm authority, and the way even small gestures carried weight.
Seong-jin stood to the side, observing. His presence was quiet but undeniable. He noted how the nobles responded not just to the emperor's words, but to the way the minister moved, the way guards shifted, and even how the sunlight fell across the chamber. Every detail mattered.
One visiting noble, Lord Kim, spoke cautiously. "Your Majesty, we have heard about the works of the young crown prince? We have heard of his wisdom and calmness at court."
The emperor's eyes flicked briefly to Seong-jin proudly.
Seong-jin's gaze remained steady, polite but unreadable. The nobles bowed slightly, impressed. Some were wary, sensing the quiet force behind the young prince's calm.
The meeting continued for hours. The emperor listened, questioned, and approved decisions with calm authority. Minister Choi added clarifications when needed. The nobles spoke with respect, careful not to offend or misstep.
Through it all, the palace felt alive. Every glance, every whisper, every careful movement reminded everyone that power here was not loud or flashy, it was controlled, measured, and unavoidable.
As the afternoon drew toward evening, the nobles finally rose to leave. They bowed deeply, showing respect to both the emperor and the crown prince.
Seong-jin gave a subtle nod. Even in the quiet of the hall after their departure, his presence seemed to linger, like a shadow no one could ignore.