The throne room of Silla was already loud with tension and confusion when Seonghwa walked in, but when his father spoke, the room dropped into a suffocating silence.
"From this day forth," the king announced, voice echoing through the hall, "Silla will enter a marriage alliance with the kingdom of Geumhwa."
The words hit Seonghwa harder than any hand ever could.
He blinked. Once. Then again.
"Your Majesty… what do you mean?" His voice cracked somewhere between disbelief and a laugh that didn't make it out. "A marriage alliance?"
The council—chief ministers, generals, scribes, high-ranking nobles, even the trembling low-ranking attendants—shifted. No one breathed too loudly. No one dared.
"Yes," the king repeated, as if Seonghwa were asking how the . "A marriage."
Seonghwa swallowed. "But all of my older siblings are married…" His hands curled. "So who exactly is going for this marriage alliance with Geumhwa?"
That was when the entire court looked at him.
Not with pity.
Not with confusion.
With that expression people wore when the obvious slapped someone too slow to catch on.
And then it clicked.
"Oh," Seonghwa whispered. Then louder, "Oh—wait. Me?"
A laugh slipped out. Sharp. Bitter. "Thank you very much, but I already said I'm not interested in getting married. To anyone. Ever. So—"
He turned to leave.
"Seonghwa." His father's voice cut through the room like a blade.
He froze.
"You don't seem to understand," the king said. "Among all my children, you are the most useless."
The insult landed so softly it hurt more.
A physician stepped forward, bowing. "Your Majesty speaks only fact. Though His Highness is an Omega… his fertility is unusually high. This alliance is possible because of him."
Seonghwa's jaw clenched. "So that's all I am? A womb you can ship off?"
"You don't need to love anyone," the king continued. "You simply go to Geumhwa, marry whoever the Demon King assigns you to, and give them an heir. Once that heir is born, peace will follow."
Seonghwa's voice trembled, anger boiling beneath fear. "There's an easy solution to all of this. Stop hunting the demons."
He stepped forward, eyes burning. "But no. You had to show off. You wanted power. You wanted to be feared. And now you've angered someone who can actually kill you."
A murmur broke through the ministers, but one glare from the king silenced them.
"I am a mage," Seonghwa said, quieter now. "A healing mage. I treat the sick here in Silla… that's all I know. I can't fight. I can't defend myself. If I go there—what if I die?"
"If you die," the king said calmly, "you will be buried, and the kingdom will mourn you."
The words sucked the breath out of every corner of the hall.
Seonghwa stared. "Your Majesty… please." He stepped back, shaking his head. "Geumhwa is home to the Demon Prince—Captain. Even our best bounty hunters can't catch him. Our soldiers return in pieces. People don't even survive seeing his shadow. How do you expect me to survive the gates?"
The king didn't blink. "What if," he said, "you find favour in his sight?"
"Favour?" Seonghwa's voice shot up. "Is this a moment of jest?"
He turned desperately to the ministers. "Why can't any of you explain to His Majesty that this is the worst plan he has ever created? This isn't a truce—this is the beginning of a war. And I'm just supposed to be the first blood spilled?"
No one answered.
No one even lifted their eyes.
Seonghwa realized that he might've been terribly wrong because thhis wasn't a discussion.
This was a decided sentence.
Seonghwa stayed glued to the floor, trying to hold himself together. His throat burned. His eyes was stinging. One blink too long and a tear would betray him, roll down his cheek, and let the whole court see him break. He refused to give them that.
The king didn't care.
"Commander Song."
The heavy doors opened, and Commander Song Mingi stepped forward, armor clinking softly as he bowed. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes flicked to Seonghwa for a split second—quiet worry, quickly buried.
"Take Prince Seonghwa to the royal tailors," the king commanded. "He is to have the finest garments prepared. Something that will make him appealing to a man."
That last line froze Mingi like someone had poured ice down his spine.
A man? Appealing?
He blinked once, the smallest twitch of confusion crossing his face.
But he said nothing. No one questioned the king.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
He bowed again, then turned to Seonghwa. "Your Highness… let's go."
The two walked out of the throne room, the silence following them like a curse. Once the doors closed behind them and the whispers of the ministers faded, Seonghwa felt his shoulders loosen—just a little. The sting in his eyes remained there, but he kept his head high.
Mingi led him through the palace corridors until they reached the royal tailors' hall. Needles paused in the middle of sewing. Fabrics were dropped. Every seamstress bowed low.
Measurements were taken. Cold hands wrapped measuring tapes around his waist, his shoulders, his wrists. Voices whispered about color palettes and silhouettes "that would suit an omega husband."
Seonghwa stared forward, unblinking, jaw clenched.
When they finally finished, he exhaled shakily.
"Mingi," he said quietly. "I would like to return to my chambers. Take me there."
"Yes, Your Highness."
This time, Mingi didn't add anything else. He just walked beside him, close enough to shield, far enough to respect the prince's silence.
They were only a few steps from Seonghwa's door when something—
a sharp whistle through the air—
made Mingi snap his arm out in front of Seonghwa.
An arrow sliced between them.
It struck the stone pillar with a heavy thunk, quivering violently before going still.
"Stay behind me," Mingi hissed, hand already on his sword.
Seonghwa's heart hammered against his ribs, but instinct pulled him forward.
He walked up to the arrow, fingers trembling slightly as he pulled it from the pillar. A thin paper was tied to the shaft. He unfolded it slowly.
The handwriting was sharp. Angry. Certain.
I await your presence.
His breath caught.
Mingi stepped closer. "Your Highness…?"
Seonghwa crumpled the note in his hand.
"It seems," he whispered, "someone from Geumhwa already knows I'm being sent to there."