Hwa Miye felt his heart stall for a breath too long.
The scene before him refused to settle into meaning. Grief had already overtaken him, wrapping itself tightly around his chest, yet layered beneath it was something far more dangerous - confusion, and threaded through that confusion, a thin, treacherous filament of hope.
Hope...
What exactly was he hoping for?
"Little girl," he asked at last, voice steady only because he forced it to be, "Is that truly your mother?"
"It is my mother!" the girl cried again, her voice hoarse from repeating the same words over and over.
Hwa Miye moved closer.
The corpse lay stiff and blackened, its face crushed beyond recognition, soot caked thickly over what little remained. Torn flesh showed through in raw, uneven streaks of red. The body was already beginning to decay slowly, mercilessly. The stench of rot, pus, and burnt skin rose sharply, seizing his throat so suddenly that his stomach lurched.
He swallowed it down.
It was nearly impossible to tell who this woman had once been.
"How can you be certain?" he asked, his expression carefully blank, his tone devoid of warmth.
"How could I not recognize my own mother?!" the girl screamed, rage erupting through her grief.
She had already lost everything.
Her only family had been dragged away in front of her while she stood frozen and helpless. When she recognized the man who did it, the court dismissed her words as childish imagination. And now, even the princess questioned her, asking how she could recognize her own mother.
How could she not?!
She had lived with her all her life. This dead woman was her mother.
"The body, the clothes, the hair, the hands..." Her swollen eyes burned, red-rimmed and wild. "I recognize everything! It's my mother! I saw one of the guards bringing her here, so I followed…" Her voice fractured completely. "I was hoping… hoping it wasn't her… but it was..."
She collapsed inward, burying her soot-smeared hands into her face as her sobs tore loose.
Hwa Miye lowered himself again, forcing his gaze back to the corpse. The stench assaulted him once more, stronger now that he was closer, but he endured it. He needed to see. He needed to be certain.
Suddenly, disgust bloomed violently in his chest.
Why had a part of him hoped this body truly belonged to the girl's mother?
The child's grief had unfolded openly before him, raw and unfiltered. And yet, he felt nothing that resembled empathy.
Because beneath it all, hidden and shameful, lived a selfish wish.
He wanted this corpse not to be Choi Yuna. He wanted her alive.
A quiet, bitter laugh echoed in his mind.
Haha...What a hypocrite.
He devoted himself endlessly to his people, fulfilling his role with precision and sacrifice. And yet, even the love he showed them was a carefully maintained illusion - a facade of pretense. If forced to choose between their happiness and his own, he knew without doubt which he would choose.
The realization twisted his heart with self-loathing.
"Please, allow me to verify," he said calmly, ignoring the girl as he reached toward the corpse.
His fingers hesitated for the briefest moment before pulling the soot-darkened chin downward. He looked carefully.
The tongue was intact.
This was not Choi Yuna.
Relief crashed through him first, so intense it almost made him dizzy. Then along came guilt, sharp and immediate. Hatred followed, directed inward. And beneath it all, a sickening sense of disgust at himself.
He straightened abruptly and turned toward the guards.
"Arrange a burial for the girl's mother," he ordered. "When it is done, bring her to my chambers."
His voice was cold, unyielding.
He did not notice, had not noticed for years, that this coldness was no longer a facade. After wearing this mask of iciness and hiding his true emotions, he had absorbed the mask itself, making this facade simply who he had become.
The guards bowed as he walked away.
….
Meanwhile...
Dohyun had finished bathing and was now washing his clothes when he finally realized the extent of the damage. His uniform had been torn nearly beyond recognition from the beatings. It was impossible to wear. If he slipped his arm into a sleeve, it emerged through the chest. If he pulled it over his head, the fabric split along his back.
Completely ruined, a lost cause.
He would need to retrieve the small cloth in which he had packed extra clothes for himself before arriving at the palace. Perhaps Lady Chunhee would know where it was kept.
With a practiced motion, he slung the damp uniform over his shoulder. He was dressed only in a white top and trousers now. The top clung tightly to his body, stretched by time and growth, outlining his chest so clearly that it looked broader than it should have, flexing with every breath he took.
It had been his first uniform. He'd been sixteen then.
Four years had passed.
Exhaling softly, he stepped out into the brightly lit corridors. Flowers lined the palace paths endlessly. He wondered: why was the palace always filled with flowers? They were beautiful, undeniably so, but the princess never seemed to care for them.
Not once had Dohyun seen Hwa Miye look at flowers with affection.
No... the princess only showed indifference.
Perhaps it was just his imagination. He hadn't been here for long, anyway.
"Hey… did you hear what happened at the front gates?"
Whispers floated through the corridor. There was no one else around, so naturally, Dohyun heard everything. Two servant women were gossiping about their daily lives. Such topics were of no use to him. Uninterested, he began to walk away until...
"That corpse really is her mother."
His steps slowed down, immediately coming to a halt.
Carefully and deliberately, he positioned himself behind a thick pillar and listened.
"But didn't Lady Shin Haerin bring the corpse?" She looked terrified, like it was someone she knew."
"I thought it might've been one of our servants, so I wondered, but then, Lady Haerin is only close to the princess…"
"That's not all," one whispered, covering her mouth, "The face was smashed so badly it couldn't be recognized."
"Oh my...How unfortunate…"
"We still don't know who did it. The princess let that boy go, but if the girl recognized him-"
"Didn't you hear? He was under the princess's watch. It couldn't have been him."
"How can you trust a man? Don't you know why men are forbidden here?"
"Isn't it because Her Highness is to be wed to the prince - ?"
"Ha...You still believe that? From what I see, it's likely one-sided. Her Highness used to have male guards before, then one day..."
Footsteps echoed.
Silence snapped shut. The woman who was about to deliver a hot gossip now zipped her mouth.
"You."
The voice struck Dohyun immediately.
He recognized it without effort.
How could he not? After all, he had just done something shameful, thinking about this very voice.
Heat surged to his face, down his spine.
No. Not now! Absolutely not now! He can't be thinking about that again!
He shut his eyes tightly, breath turning rough as he forced his thoughts away.
"Summon Sung Chunhee and Shin Haerin to the courtroom. Immediately."
The command made the women flinch. They bowed hastily and fled.
Hwa Miye began to head toward the courtroom. That was what he intended.
Then, he saw a pair of black boots standing behind a pillar. His gaze narrowed slightly as he approached.
Judging from the boots, he already knew who this was.
"You may come out now."
"..."
"I know you're there."
"...?"
There was no response at all, no matter how many times he'd called. Annoyance flared. He stepped closer and stopped short.
Dohyun stood there, eyes tightly shut, arms clamped over his ears.
"What are you doing?" Hwa Miye asked.
"Why can I still hear your voice so clearly?"
Dohyun muttered, frustration slipping out unguarded.
Hwa Miye said nothing.
He did not move closer, nor did he touch him to get Dohyun back to his senses. He simply stared, watching the tension pull Dohyun's brows tight, the young man forcing himself into stillness.
Seconds passed, then another.
Gradually, the tension ebbed.
Dohyun's eyes opened slowly, unfocused, damp, breathing unevenly.
Finally, it was quiet. He had waited for this pleasant silence.
Or so he thought.
"So, what were you doing?"
A voice he had thought would be gone now cut sharply through his scalp, sending small, electric tremors through his nerves.
"Y-Your Highness?!"
Dohyun immediately stumbled five steps back, his body nearly colliding with the pillar behind him. It was instinct, the reflex of a man caught unawares before a predator. To him, Hwa Miye might as well have been a demon, and Dohyun a trembling priest, attempting to maintain some semblance of holy distance.
Little did the princess know, that this priest had already done things that stretched the limits of propriety.
Hwa Miye, meanwhile, remained perfectly still. His coldness was absolute, untouched by the boy's panic. He had long been accustomed to distance, habituated to the aloof, icy space that separated him from those beneath him. And yet, there was a weight to his gaze now that subtly pressed against Dohyun's back, measured but undeniable.
"I will not ask again," the voice came, crisp and unwavering, carrying the certainty of frost.
"I… I was just… uhh…"
Get a grip, Dohyun! Now's not the time to act like this!
His own thoughts seemed to shout at him from inside his chest, competing with the rising flutter of blood in his ears.
"Right! I took a bath! I was just heading out to find my things! So I can robe a spare!"
Each sentence came out as if he were delivering an official report, rigid and overly loud, as though commanding a line of soldiers to attention. In his panic, he had entirely misaligned the words, strung them together in a way that sounded more like barked orders than an explanation.
Fuck, I look so stupid! Someone, please! Please end me now!
"I see," Hwa Miye said, crossing his arms, the motion smooth, deliberate, almost ceremonial. His expression remained unreadable, but the tilt of his head carried the faintest hint of amusement, or perhaps curiosity. "You're leaving then. That is… good."
Leaving?
Dohyun froze. Leaving? Where was he supposed to go? His only sanctuary had been the basement quarters in the Prince's palace, a place that was now barred to him. He had been basically cast out, transferred to the Princess's chambers. Now if the Princess also didn't want him....Where could he possibly go?
"Your Highness, I…"
He wanted to shout: I'm not going anywhere!
Instead, his words came out differently. "I… I don't have anywhere else to go."
He didn't mean to sound pathetic, but his pride had been torn from him like an orchid uprooted just as it begun to bloom. He bit his lips hard, tasting blood, feeling shame curl tightly around his chest like a fist. Persuading the princess now seemed impossible. Whatever pride he had left had already abandoned him.
His face warmed: half from embarrassment, half from the lingering heat of humiliation.
"Are you an orphan?" Hwa Miye asked, his tone deceptively calm, though the sight of Dohyun's flushed, averted face made it certain that this man wished the earth would swallow him whole right now.
"Ah… yes," Dohyun muttered, gaze glued to the floor, eyes refusing to meet Hwa Miye's. He would have buried himself entirely if he could.
"Do you know you were sent here as an exile?" Hwa Miye continued, his voice as cold as glass.
"…?"
Dohyun blinked. Exile? But I haven't done anything wrong.
Noticing the widening of the boy's eyes, Miye's voice softened- not in kindness, but in quiet observance. "Seems like you do not. Even if you did nothing wrong, the guards sent from the Prince's palace are usually those they wish to dispose of. They know… I would not accept male guards. None."
"But Your Highness! I can prove I am capable! You can't--" Dohyun raised his head, determination flaring like a small, stubborn fire. Abruptly, he stopped, sensing the line he was about to cross.
Hwa Miye studied him carefully. The boy's eyes begged for something he could not grant outright. His flushed face, the faint red still present on his tanned skin, spoke of pride fractured but unyielding. The carved jaw had veins that twitched faintly as Dohyun struggled to restrain himself from saying anymore that could disrespect the figure before him.
Even the chest muscles, flexing under the tight fabric, the prominent veins on his neck, all betrayed a quiet, desperate self-control.
Miye understood. He knew the boy's desperation. And he knew, without a doubt, that Dohyun was certainly capable. With that built at his age? Surely, he was not to be taken lightly in a battlefield. In fact, he knew Dohyun would do exceptionally well if he were to be his royal guard.
Even so… he could not allow the boy to bear the risks that came with that capability. He would not expose Dohyun to the cruelties of this world unnecessarily. Somewhere deep inside his heart, he wanted to protect Dohyun from scarring his life. He thought that, Dohyun was too innocent, a pure soul...
Unlike him.
He exhaled a long, soft sigh, a sound almost lost to the echo of the corridor. He felt pity, more than he wanted to admit, for the boy before him, for the broken pride, for the sharp edges of honor and innocence still intact.
But duty, necessity, and survival demanded he remain an ice sculpture, impervious and distant - a figure he created of himself.
"You should… get a change of clothes," he said at last, the words clipped, sharp. "Your current attire is unsightly. You can't be my royal guard like this, can you?"
"Your Highness, please reconsider," Dohyun said again, fists clenched at his sides. He hadn't even processed the words Miye had spoken.
"I only ask for one chance--"
Wait a minute, did he hear it right?
"Your Highness - ?"
"Follow me to the courtroom. There, I shall assign you your first task as a royal guard of the Princess of Hwachon."
Dohyun's heart stuttered. Did the Princess… really accept me?
He could not help himself. A smile broke across his face, full and genuine, a flash of unguarded joy. His teeth shone against the warmth of the smile, a small dimple forming on his right cheek, betraying the happiness he could not contain.
Hwa Miye froze, momentarily disarmed. Only a small, official instruction had been given. What was there to warrant such a reaction?
And yet… seeing Dohyun smile, so whole-heartedly, something in him shifted. He felt a faint, unfamiliar warmth tug at him.
A soundless sigh escaped him, almost involuntary.
He thought briefly, that he would accept him now and scare him away later, so Dohyun could leave on his own. Then again, that ray of light before him which shone upon hearing a temporary good news, made Hwa Miye's heart a little heavy.
Truly, no matter how hard the ice was, it always melted under the sun.