Eunji had always considered herself fortunate to have been raised by a father who was the head of a thriving business in the bustling city of Seoul. Their home was filled with the chatter of dinner parties, the scent of imported teas, and the confident footsteps of men who wore success like a second skin. She had grown up believing that her life would be no different—polished, comfortable, and full of opportunities.
Her greatest dream had been to study art abroad, to paint the world as she saw it—vivid and unrestrained. But dreams had a way of dissolving when reality came crashing down.
The collapse of her father's business had been brutal and swift, like a wave pulling everything into its undertow. Within months, their fortune disappeared, creditors lined their gates, and Eunji's once-bright future seemed to fade into a dull, uncertain haze.
When her father grew too ill to work and her mother too broken to cope, Eunji made a choice. She would swallow her pride and find a way to keep her family afloat. That choice led her to the gates of the royal palace, not as a guest, but as a maid.
The adjustment was harder than she'd ever imagined. One day she had silk sheets; the next, she scrubbed stone floors until her hands blistered. The other maids whispered behind her back, mocking the girl who had once dined with nobles but now carried their laundry. Eunji bore it quietly. She worked hard, even smiled when she had to. If she couldn't change her circumstances, she would at least change her attitude toward them.
Still, there were moments when her spirit wavered. Like today.
Eunji balanced on the tips of her toes, dusting one of the towering bookshelves in the grand hall. The palace was magnificent, its ceilings painted with golden dragons, its walls lined with silks and treasures from every corner of the kingdom. Yet to Eunji, it felt more like a cage. She moved the cloth over the carved wood with brisk, careful strokes, trying to keep her thoughts from drifting back to the girl she once was.
The sharp echo of boots on polished marble interrupted her rhythm. The sound carried authority, brisk and unyielding. Eunji turned, and her breath stilled.
The Korean prince stood before her.
He was taller than she expected, his frame lean but commanding. His robe shimmered faintly under the lantern light, the fabric embroidered with threads that only royalty could wear. His dark eyes swept over her—not with warmth, but with cool scrutiny, as though she were no more than a speck of dust clinging to his palace.
Eunji's heart thudded in her chest. She quickly bowed, lowering her head. "Excuse me, Your Highness," she said softly. "Is there something I can help you with?"
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then the prince's lips curved, not into a smile, but a smirk.
"So you're the infamous maid," he said, his voice smooth but laced with arrogance. "The one who once lived like a noble and now cleans the floors her family used to walk upon."
Heat flared in Eunji's cheeks. Infamous? Was that how the palace described her? She gripped her cloth tighter but kept her voice steady. "I don't know about infamous, Your Highness. I'm simply doing my work."
The prince chuckled, a low sound that seemed to mock rather than amuse. He stepped closer, eyes narrowing as he studied her. "Strange. I expected you to look more humbled by your fall. Instead, you're standing here as if you belong."
Eunji lifted her chin slightly, meeting his gaze. Something rebellious sparked in her chest. "With respect, Your Highness, if I didn't act as though I belonged, I wouldn't survive a single day in this place."
That earned her a raised brow. He tilted his head, as though surprised she dared to answer him back. Most maids would have stammered apologies, begged forgiveness. This one… didn't.
The corner of his mouth lifted, but it wasn't kindness—it was a challenge. "You're bold for a servant. Perhaps too bold."
Eunji's pulse quickened, but she refused to look away. "And perhaps Your Highness enjoys testing people more than he should."
His smirk deepened. For the first time, genuine interest flickered in his eyes. The air between them crackled, though not with the softness Eunji had once imagined love to carry. No, this was sharper—like two swords crossing, daring the other to strike first.
The prince's smirk lingered as he leaned lazily against the carved column beside the shelf, arms folding across his chest. "Tell me, Eunji, do you enjoy polishing my ancestors' bookshelves? Or does it sting, knowing your hands were once meant for brush and canvas, not rags and dust?"
The words cut deeper than she wanted to admit. But Eunji forced her lips into the faintest smile, steadying herself. "Better to polish shelves with dignity than to sit idle, wasting talent."
His brows lifted in mock surprise. "Dignity? From a maid?"
"Yes, Your Highness." Her tone was calm, but her eyes didn't waver. "Dignity isn't given by birthright. It's chosen, even in the smallest of tasks."
For a moment, silence stretched. Then he laughed—a rich, amused sound that drew the attention of a passing guard. But this laughter wasn't warm; it dripped with condescension.
"You speak as if you are my equal," he said finally, the mirth fading from his tone. His gaze sharpened, the air around him carrying the weight of his position. "Be careful, Eunji. Words like that could see you dismissed from these halls."
A flicker of unease coiled in her stomach, but she held his stare. "If Your Highness wishes me gone for speaking honestly, then so be it. But I thought princes valued truth, not flattery."
Something shifted in his expression then, so brief that Eunji almost missed it. A twitch of his jaw, a flicker in his eyes. But just as quickly, it vanished beneath the mask of arrogance.
"You presume too much," he said coldly, pushing away from the column. He stepped closer, close enough that Eunji could see the faint embroidery of golden dragons curling along his robe, the faint sheen of power stitched into every thread. "Do not mistake my curiosity for leniency. You may intrigue me, but you are still only a maid."
Her breath caught, not from fear but from defiance. "And you may be a prince, but that doesn't make you right."
The words slipped out before she could stop them. The moment they did, her heart skipped—had she gone too far?
The prince stilled, his dark eyes narrowing on her. For one tense heartbeat, she thought he might order her dragged from the hall. But then, unexpectedly, he smiled. Not a mocking smirk this time, but something slower, more calculating.
"You're reckless," he said softly, almost to himself. "And reckless people are… entertaining."
Eunji bristled. "I am not here to entertain you, Your Highness. I am here to work."
His smile widened, though his tone remained cool. "Work, then. But know this—palace walls have ears, and mouths eager to twist every word. Careful, Eunji. One misstep, and they'll eat you alive."
The warning was real, but the way he delivered it—half a taunt, half a dare—set her teeth on edge. She bowed stiffly, her voice clipped. "I will keep that in mind, Your Highness."
As she turned back to her dusting, she felt his gaze linger, heavy and unrelenting. He watched her for a moment longer, then finally spoke as he walked away.
"Bold little maid," he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear. "Let's see how long you last."
His footsteps echoed down the corridor, fading into silence. But the weight of his presence remained, tugging at Eunji's thoughts long after he was gone.
She pressed her cloth against the shelf harder than necessary, exhaling slowly. He was arrogant, insufferable, and far too sharp with his words. And yet…
And yet, her pulse hadn't settled since he first appeared.
Eunji tried to focus on her duties for the rest of the afternoon, but her thoughts wouldn't stop circling back to him. The prince's voice still echoed in her mind—smooth, arrogant, unyielding. He had insulted her, dismissed her, and yet… her heart refused to steady.
When the other maids gathered in the servant's quarters at dusk, Eunji joined them, her steps heavy. The smell of boiled rice filled the small room, and the chatter of tired women buzzed like restless bees.
"You look pale," whispered Sooah, the only maid who had ever shown Eunji kindness. She nudged her gently, eyes narrowing. "What happened? Did one of the head maids scold you again?"
Eunji hesitated, then shook her head. "Worse. I ran into the prince."
Sooah's spoon clattered into her bowl. "The prince? You mean His Highness Minho? He spoke to you?"
Eunji nodded reluctantly, keeping her voice low. "If you can call it speaking. He spent most of the time reminding me I'm a maid, as if I could forget."
Gasps fluttered around the table. The other maids leaned in, some curious, others scornful. One of them, Mina, smirked knowingly. "Careful, Eunji. The prince doesn't waste time on servants. If he spoke to you, it's because you've already caught his eye."
Heat rushed to Eunji's cheeks. "That's not what happened," she snapped. "He was mocking me."
"Mocking can lead to other things," Mina teased, her tone sharp. "You were born with noble blood. Maybe you think you're better than us, and the prince thinks so too."
"That's enough," Sooah cut in, glaring at Mina. "Eunji works as hard as anyone here."
But Eunji barely heard them. She rose abruptly, setting her bowl aside. "I need some air."
She slipped out into the cool night, the palace gardens bathed in silver moonlight. The fragrance of blooming lilies clung to the air, a bittersweet reminder of how beautiful the palace could be—and how suffocating it felt to her.
She sat on a stone bench near the lotus pond, hugging her knees. "Arrogant prince," she muttered under her breath. "What gives him the right to treat people that way?"
"Which arrogant prince?"
The voice came from behind her, smooth and unmistakable. Eunji froze, her stomach sinking. Slowly, she turned—and there he was again, standing beneath the archway, the moonlight casting a pale glow across his face.
Her heart stuttered. Of all the people, of all the places…
"Your Highness," she said stiffly, rising to her feet. "Forgive me. I didn't expect anyone here."
His lips curved into that infuriating smirk. "Clearly. Or you wouldn't be muttering insults into the night."
Eunji's cheeks flamed. "I was speaking to myself."
"And yet, I heard it quite clearly." He stepped closer, his robe trailing softly across the stones. His eyes glinted, amused. "So, you admit you find me arrogant."
Her pride wouldn't let her back down. "If the word fits, Your Highness, who am I to deny it?"
For a moment, silence stretched. Then, to her surprise, he laughed—not mocking this time, but genuinely entertained. The sound startled her, softening him in a way she hadn't expected.
"You're braver than most," he said, his tone low. "Everyone else bows and flatters. You bite."
"I don't bite," Eunji retorted quickly.
His smirk widened. "Oh, you do. And that makes you… interesting."
Eunji bristled. "I'm not here to be interesting. I'm here to serve."
He studied her quietly, his expression unreadable. Then, after a long pause, he inclined his head slightly. "Perhaps. But remember this, Eunji—palace life is a game. You can polish shelves, wash floors, and obey orders, but none of it will protect you from the people who want to see you fall. You'll need more than hard work. You'll need teeth."
Her breath caught. Was that advice—or another taunt? She couldn't tell.
Before she could reply, he stepped back into the shadows, his voice drifting behind him. "We'll see if you last."
And then he was gone, leaving Eunji staring after him, her heart pounding in her chest.
She sank back onto the bench, gripping her skirt tightly. She hated him—his arrogance, his sharp words, his smug smile. And yet, somewhere deep inside, she felt something she couldn't quite name.
Excitement.
Fear.
Hope.
Whatever it was, she knew one thing: this was only the beginning.