Dong-jin was Crown Prince, but he was also a man deeply in love with a woman whose destiny was tearing her away from him. He knew he couldn't offer her gold or titles—West-Seu had more to offer. He could only offer comfort and understanding.
One evening, knowing Maya was spending hours translating cultural records with the West-Seu diplomat, he planned a small surprise.
He went down to the kitchen and, using his limited, aristocratic knowledge of cooking, instructed Min-ho (the chef who helped with the fire diversion) to prepare a very simple, very specific dish: mandu (dumplings) filled only with the freshest seasonal vegetables and very little seasoning. It was the food of the people, the food of honest simplicity.
He carried the warm, fragrant bowl himself to Maya's study chamber.
Maya was bent over scrolls, her brow furrowed in concentration, the West-Seu language now flowing across her page with increasing fluency.
"A tribute from a weary Prince to a working Princess," Dong-jin announced, setting the bowl on the desk.
Maya looked up, her expression tired but grateful. "You should be resting, Your Highness."
"I should," he agreed, "but I saw you working. And I realized what I miss most about the days before the crowns arrived—the simplicity of sharing food without politics."
He sat with her while she ate. The dumplings were comforting, warm, and deeply familiar.
"Why so simple?" she asked, after taking a bite.
"Because the things Choi tried to destroy were not complex," he said. "They were simple: the farmer's land, the people's trust, the honest act of friendship. You remind me of that simplicity. You remind me that a good kingdom is built on honest ingredients, not extravagant spices."
He didn't speak of West-Seu or the future. He just watched her eat, the quiet domesticity of the moment a profound counterpoint to the impending storm.
"I don't know what my future holds, Dong-jin," she finally admitted, her voice soft.
"Then let tonight hold only dumplings," he replied, smiling. "We will face tomorrow's decisions with full stomachs. That is the only promise I can give you right now."
It was a small, perfect moment of peace, a simple gift of presence that meant more than any crown.