The corridors of the palace whispered secrets with every gust of wind. Elara, wrapped in the simple garments of a servant, moved cautiously, her eyes absorbing every detail of this foreign world — the towering walls, the gilded lanterns flickering with blue fire, the echoes of footsteps beyond the marble pillars.
She had only been in the palace for two days, yet she already felt the tension that wrapped around its halls like ivy — choking, ever-reaching. The other maids avoided eye contact, whispering rumors of "the king who does not age" and "the bloodless throne." But it wasn't the king Elara feared the most — it was being noticed.
Because she had been noticed.
By the man in the throne room. By the flower.
And now, by the prince.
It happened late in the afternoon. Elara was carrying a tray of herbal water across the eastern courtyard when the wind suddenly changed. The air turned heavier, scented with something ancient — like old books, steel, and the smoke of incense.
A raven — the same raven — cawed above her, startling her so fiercely she dropped the tray. Glass shattered. The sound echoed unnaturally loud across the courtyard.
She fell to her knees, cursing silently, and scrambled to gather the shards. And that's when she felt it — a presence.
"Be still," a voice said, cool and measured.
She froze.
Boots approached, soft against the stone path. When Elara dared to glance up, her breath caught in her throat.
He was dressed in deep indigo robes embroidered with dragons made of thread so fine they looked like they moved. A silver chain ran across his shoulder, holding a black cape that fluttered despite the still air. His face was half-shadowed by the edge of his hair — long, black, slightly tousled. But his eyes—
They were storm-gray. Not icy. Not cold. But alive. Searching.
He crouched in front of her and lifted a glass shard.
"You're not from here," he said calmly.
Her heart thudded.
"I—" She scrambled to her feet, bowing her head. "I'm sorry, Your Highness."
So this was Prince Jae-Hwa.
He stood slowly, taller than she expected, his posture relaxed but precise — like a sword just barely sheathed.
"You speak with a strange accent," he noted. "And you don't know the servant codes."
Elara froze again.
He was watching her — not with suspicion, but with curiosity. She sensed no cruelty in him. But that only made it worse. Kindness was more dangerous than punishment.
"I'm from the outer provinces," she lied, eyes downcast. "I was… raised in seclusion."
A pause. Then a slow hum of amusement.
"A forest girl," he said softly. "That explains the eyes."
Elara blinked. "The eyes?"
"They shine like something wild." His tone was not flirtatious — more fascinated. "Like someone who hears the trees."
Her breath hitched. Had he meant it metaphorically? Or… had he felt something?
Before she could respond, a shout broke through the courtyard.
"Prince Jae-Hwa!"
An elderly servant bowed, approaching rapidly. "Your presence is required at the council hall."
Jae-Hwa didn't take his eyes off her. "What's your name?"
Elara hesitated. "Ara," she answered quickly.
He nodded once.
"Don't wander near the East Garden at night, Ara. It's not safe." His voice lowered. "Especially not for people who hear trees."
With that, he turned and strode away, his cape trailing behind him like a shadow.
That night, Elara couldn't sleep.
She sat on her cot in the servant quarters, staring at the moon through a cracked window. Sae-Myung's words echoed in her mind:
"He carries the blood of the one who stole your mother's soul."
But his eyes… they hadn't been cruel. They had been full of quiet sorrow, like someone bearing a burden too old to speak of.
Could he be different from his father?
No. She couldn't afford softness. Not now.
The next day, Elara continued her duties in the inner palace, folding silks and grinding herbs. She learned quickly: don't speak unless spoken to, never look the royal family in the eyes, and above all — never enter the Hall of Spirits.
But by the third day, she saw him again.
This time, in the training courtyard.
Jae-Hwa was sparring with two palace guards. His robe was gone, replaced by a sleeveless black tunic that revealed lean muscle and old scars — not many, but meaningful. He moved like wind over water, fluid and deadly.
Elara, carrying towels, paused at the edge of the courtyard. She watched, unable to tear her gaze away. Every step he took was artful — not just skillful but graceful. This wasn't just a prince; this was someone who fought to survive.
He disarmed one of the guards in a flicker of motion. The other came at him with a low sweep — and Jae-Hwa leapt, spinning mid-air, his blade catching sunlight like fire.
The guard fell back, panting.
"Again," Jae-Hwa commanded, voice calm.
Elara stood still, the towels pressed to her chest.
And then — he turned and looked directly at her.
She almost dropped the towels.
"You," he called, not raising his voice. "Come here."
Everyone turned.
Elara stepped forward, heart hammering.
"You're the girl from the courtyard," he said as she approached. "Ara."
"Yes, Your Highness."
He took a towel from her hands, wiping his brow.
"What's your real name?"
She stiffened.
"I told you—"
"You're not from the provinces," he said quietly, "and you're not a servant. Your hands have no calluses. You flinch when bells chime, and you whisper in your sleep."
She opened her mouth — then closed it.
He stepped closer.
"Who are you?" he asked, voice low.
For a moment, Elara thought about telling him the truth.
But then she saw it — the mark on his wrist.
A scar shaped like a flower petal. The same shape as the carving in the stone circle. The same shape as the Cheonhwa.
Her breath caught.
"I'm no one," she said.
Jae-Hwa looked at her, studying her like a puzzle with missing pieces.
"Then why," he asked slowly, "does my mother's spirit cry when you pass her shrine?"
Elara froze.
"What did you say?"
But before he could answer, a bell rang in the tower above.
Evening call.
He turned from her, but not before whispering, "The trees know you. Be careful who else does."
And he vanished into the corridors once more, leaving Elara trembling — because for the first time since arriving in this world, she realized:
She was no longer hidden.
She had been seen.
And not just by anyone.
By the son of the king who held her mother's soul.