AUTHOR'S POV

"After father's gone, I'll be the one taking the throne because I am the eldest," Namjoon declared, his chest rising with pride.

Taehyung scoffed, "Sorry to bring this to you ONCE AGAIN, hyung, but as you keep forgetting, let me remind you that father is going to be the one who decides the next King," he corrected Namjoon with sarcasm and accuracy as he lied on the couch carelessly, while both Jimin and Namjoon were standing.

"That is why we need our father to die soon," Jimin snapped back at Taehyung, who cared less about how furious and serious his brothers were about the throne.

"And who is going to give him a ticket to heaven, huh? You, Jimin?" Taehyung tilted his head, provoking Jimin's anger.

Namjoon took a deep breath, closing his eyes to pacify his annoyance at his unserious brothers.

Jimin marched towards Taehyung with heavy steps and held his collar as he glared at him, "If I have to, I'll do that as well."

Taehyung smirked, successfully offending Jimin once again.

"You both lis—" Namjoon started, but his words were cut off when—

"What kind of sons are you three?!" Yesol entered the scene with utter disappointment and anger towards her useless brothers.

She stepped inside the study room, all three of them just looked at her blankly.

"How can you think about the throne when our father is so sick and needs strength?" she shouted, a cue of tears in her eyes.

"Oraboni..." she mumbled, her voice vulnerable and pleading as she walked to Namjoon and held his hand. "Father needs us right now. We need to think about his well-being, but instead, you guys are fighting over a stupid throne?!" she pleaded again, her voice breaking as Namjoon averted his gaze in guilt and shame.

Jimin stepped between them suddenly, his face contorting in anger. Before Yesol could react, he grabbed her neck, choking her with alarming force. He pushed her back with his strength and pinned her to the wall, still choking her. Tears slid down her cheeks, but Jimin was unbothered, his rage consuming him. The other two brothers, Namjoon and Taehyung, stood frozen, their eyes wide in shock.

"Jimin!" Namjoon tried to intervene, but he didn't step forward to stop his brother.

"You keep your mouth shut, witch," Jimin spat with utter hatred.

Yesol's face turned red, her breath becoming shallow as she struggled against his grip. She tried to protest, but it was useless—Jimin was too strong for her to fight back.

"Stop ordering us around like you know any better. You are just a ticket for us to get other kingdoms. Other than that, you have no role in this castle!" Jimin growled, his grip tightening. "So, do not speak unless you're asked to. Or else, I will not hesitate to cut your tongue into pieces!" he threatened, his jaw clenched, eyes burning with rage.

His fury wasn't just aimed at Yesol; the tension with Taehyung had already pushed him to his limit. Yesol, being there, was just the tipping point for him.

"Jimin, leave her!" Taehyung shouted, stepping forward and shoving Jimin away from Yesol. The impact of his release made Yesol gasp, coughing from the lack of air.

Jimin glared at her with pure hatred as he stepped back, but neither Namjoon nor Taehyung made any move to help her. They stood there, staring at her with cold indifference.

Yesol couldn’t even look at her brothers anymore. Her heart ached with the realization of the men they had become—cruel and unforgiving.

"Yesol, just leave," Taehyung muttered, his voice hard, as if he were already done with everything.

With a final glance at the brothers who had once been her family, she left the room, her body shaking with fury and the sting of unshed tears.

______________________

She passed through the grand corridors of the castle, her broken heart and furious mind weighing her down with every step. She was disappointed—not just with the words of her brothers, but with their entire nature.

Even though they were siblings, children of the same King, their bond was practically nonexistent. They only stayed together to present a united front, all to prevent their enemies and other powerful empires from sensing weakness. It was all an act, a carefully crafted façade. Yesol hated that the most about her so-called family.

Prince Jimin had always hated her, but for reasons she couldn’t understand. Prince Namjoon and Prince Taehyung didn’t hate her, but they certainly didn’t care about her, either. Her personal life, her thoughts, her feelings—none of it mattered to them. They had their own interests, their own plans. She was simply another part of their royal obligations.

The King and her mother were always too busy with their royal duties to properly raise their children. As a result, Yesol and her brothers had been left to grow up under the influence of tutors and servants, making them as disconnected from one another as they were from their parents.

"Princess!" her servants cried, their voices pulling her back from her thoughts. Yesol continued walking, ignoring them as she headed toward the backdoors of the castle. The two servants followed in haste, clearly anxious about her erratic behavior.

When she reached the back of the castle, Yesol’s hands quickly pulled a sword from the hidden wooden cupboard, and in one fluid motion, she discarded her shoes, the grass cool against her bare feet.

With her sword in hand, she swung it through the air, using all the strength she had. Her movements were sharp and furious, fueled by the cruel words of Jimin echoing in her mind, twisting her heart. She swung again, and again, her eyes clouded with the sting of unshed tears, emotions too heavy to put into words.

"Is my worth just that of a mere ticket to join two kingdoms?!" she thought bitterly, the weight of Jimin’s words cutting deeper with each swing. The question lingered in her mind, unanswered and unbearable.

"Whatever Jimin oraboni said was not out of anger. He hates me to death and he just showed me the bitter reality of my existence!" she told herself.

"This is your worth, Yesol. This is what you are. JUST. A. WORTHLESS. MERE. TICKET." Jimin's cruel words echoed in her mind, and with a burst of energy, she swung the sword again, spinning around in frustration. But before she could strike again, a hand caught her blade mid-swing.

"My Queen is not supposed to do this," Seokjin’s deep voice filled the air as he held her sword effortlessly with a single hand, his gaze locked onto hers.

Two maids, who had been watching from a distance, whispered in shock.

"What? Did King Kim Seokjin and Princess Yesol just see each other?" one of them murmured, voice trembling.

"Before marriage?" the other maid gasped, eyes wide with disbelief.

Seokjin turned his sharp gaze towards them, his cold stare sending a clear warning. They froze, then immediately lowered their heads and fled the scene, knowing full well the consequences of speaking about royal matters.

Once they were gone, Seokjin’s attention returned to Yesol. There was a mixture of disappointment and irritation in his eyes as he took in the sight of her, standing in front of him with the sword still gripped in her hands.

Blood dripped from his palm, staining the ground beneath them. He hissed in pain before throwing the sword to the side with a sharp motion, the metallic clang echoing in the air.

Yesol’s heart clenched at the sight of his injury. Without a second thought, she rushed forward, gently taking his wounded hand in hers. She tore a strip of fabric from the hem of her dress, tying it carefully around his hand to staunch the bleeding.

As she worked, Seokjin’s voice broke the silence. “I came to see you resting in the shade, but this is what you do?” His voice held both frustration and concern. “My Queen... and swords?” His tone softened, showing the mix of emotions he felt towards her reckless behavior.

She finished tying the cloth and blew on his palm softly, hoping to ease his pain, the warmth of her breath mingling with the cool air. "I’m sorry," she whispered, but her heart still ached—both for Seokjin’s injury and the weight of her own turmoil.

Seokjin gently helped her sit on a nearby bench, the soft grass beneath them whispering in the wind. As he took her shoes into his hands, he carefully slid her foot back inside, his fingers brushing against her skin with the kind of care that made her heart flutter. "You are my Queen," he said softly, his tone filled with quiet admiration. "And my Queen is supposed to walk on silk and rest in cool shades, not pick up swords."

His words were gentle, yet firm as he placed the second shoe on her foot. "That is my assignment," he added, offering her a smile that was warm and sincere.

He looked down at the shoes with a thoughtful expression, running his fingers over the material. "See, how beautiful your feet look in these?" His voice was soft, coaxing. "If you remove them, you'll get your feet dirty, cut by thorns. You deserve better than that." His words, though caring, held an edge of protectiveness.

Yesol watched him with eyes full of affection, her broken heart slowly piecing itself back together. In his presence, she felt a sense of comfort, but there was still a lingering sadness in her eyes. She didn’t want to be treated as fragile or helpless, yet his care was undeniable. She wanted to fight, to defend herself, and the sword was her way of coping with the weight of the world. She loved fencing; it gave her a sense of control, a way to channel her anger and hurt.

Seokjin seemed to sense her inner conflict, his hand reaching up to gently tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. His touch was soft, almost reverent. "You are," he began, his voice full of tenderness, "as precious as silk. And silk is meant for castles, not battlefields."

His hand cupped her face, his thumb tracing her cheek with a care that made her heart skip a beat. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his eyes—those deep, kind eyes that made her forget everything else. In that moment, the world seemed to narrow, and only Seokjin’s presence mattered.

A warm blush spread across her cheeks, and she lowered her gaze slightly, caught up in the intimacy of the moment. She wanted to say something, to explain herself, but words seemed inadequate.

Finally, her voice broke the silence. "I think you should leave now," she said softly, her words carrying an unspoken plea. "What if someone saw us together?"

Seokjin’s gaze never left hers as he smiled, a confident, almost playful grin that made her heart race. "If they see us, then let them just see us," he said boldly, as if there was no shame in it. "Let them talk if they want. It doesn't matter."

Yesol hesitated for a moment, her emotions swirling inside her. "But... Us meeting before the royal wedding may not be good," she said quietly, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "We are not allowed for a reason."

Seokjin’s smile softened, but his eyes held a certain determination. "The rules were made by people who do not understand us. Let them come. I’d rather face the consequences than pretend you don’t matter to me"

Seokjin’s words carried a passion that Yesol couldn’t ignore, his conviction in breaking free from the confines of tradition stirring something deep within her. He sat down at her feet, his hands resting on her knees as he continued with his spirited outburst. "There is no reason. It’s just a foolish old mindset, and we should be the ones to break it. We need a better community anyway!"

Yesol chuckled softly, finding his fiery will both admirable and surprising. He was different from the others in the palace—unafraid to challenge the norms and assert his own beliefs. His free spirit was something she hadn’t expected but secretly adored.

"Also," Seokjin continued, his playful tone returning, "do you not like seeing my beautiful face?" He raised an eyebrow, attempting to fake an angry look that only made him more charming.

Before Yesol could deny it, Seokjin leaned forward, pressing his index fingers gently on her soft pink lips. She froze, caught off guard by the sudden proximity and the intimate gesture. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she tried to steady her breath.

"You know why I came here?" he asked, his voice teasing as he raised both brows with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Last time when we kissed, your lips left a sweetness over mine. I’ve tried so many desserts, but I couldn’t find it anywhere," he sighed dramatically, playing up the act.

Yesol’s mind raced as she processed his words, her cheeks warming under the intensity of his gaze. She couldn’t help but smile at his playful charm, even if his words were laced with a deeper longing.

"If you give me my favorite dessert again," Seokjin continued with a childlike innocence, "I’ll leave. I promise."

Yesol’s heart skipped a beat as she looked into his eyes, trying to gauge the sincerity behind his playful tone. But the warmth and affection she saw in his gaze made it impossible to resist. He was being genuine, and her cheeks flushed under the influence of his closeness.

Seokjin leaned forward, his lips almost brushing hers, and Yesol closed her eyes, surrendering to the moment. Their lips met, and the world seemed to disappear around them. Seokjin cupped her face, pulling her closer as he kissed her with an intensity that took her breath away. Yesol responded instinctively, her hands gripping the bench beneath her, trying to steady herself against the overwhelming sensation of Seokjin’s dominance.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes held a look of pure affection, a silent declaration of the love he felt for her. Yesol’s heart raced in her chest, a sense of warmth filling her from head to toe.

"I’ll come again to see you, Yesol," Seokjin murmured, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. Yesol nodded, her heart soaring as she waved him goodbye. He left the palace through the back door, slipping away like a thief in the night. She giggled to herself, the memory of his kiss lingering on her lips as she watched him disappear into the shadows.

In that moment, Yesol felt a quiet joy blossom within her—a feeling that perhaps, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone as she once thought.

_________________________

<At the dining table>

The tension in the room thickened as the King’s voice reverberated with authority. His sarcastic tone, dripping with venom, was directed at his sons. His sharp eyes observed their every move, making it impossible to miss the underlying tension. "You all must be disappointed seeing me alive," he scoffed, slicing the juicy beef on his plate as though it were a trivial matter, while his voice laced the room with a sense of cold truth.

Prince Namjoon and Prince Jimin were caught off guard, their faces betraying the discomfort they felt at his unexpected remark. They exchanged glances, carefully masking their true feelings as everyone in the room silently observed.

"Aaboji, you and your jokes," Namjoon said, his awkward laugh not quite matching the tension in the air. "We were so worried about your condition. I couldn’t even touch the food since yesterday and just prayed in the temple," he lied with practice ease. Jimin rolled his eyes subtly, his disdain for his brother’s act evident but suppressed in the presence of their father.

"Yes, Aaboji," Jimin chimed in, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he gave a sweet smile. "It’s such a blessing that you’re here with us. May you live a thousand years," he added mockingly, his words echoing the insincerity that hung thick in the air.

Despite their sweet words, everyone in the room knew the truth—each of them secretly harbored their own ambitions, plotting to take the throne from their father one way or another. Their affection for the King was nothing more than a facade. The warmth they expressed was far removed from their true intentions.

The sound of the door opening interrupted the tense moment, and Yesol walked in with a graceful air. She bowed respectfully toward the King and the elders, then broke her formal demeanor and immediately rushed to embrace her father. The King chuckled at his daughter’s warm affection, his rough exterior softening in her presence. He gently caressed her long brown hair, feeling the genuine care she held for him in her embrace.

The rest of the room, however, glared at her, a silent resentment in their eyes. Yesol's closeness to the King was well known, and it only fueled the animosity between her and the others.

"What took our Yesol this long to join us for dinner?" the King asked playfully as Yesol took her seat at the table.

"Oh, Aaboji, I was so into making a warm sweater for you that I lost track of time," Yesol lied, her innocent face showing nothing but sincerity.

Before anyone could respond, Taehyung rushed into the room, sweating as though he had just run a marathon. He looked nervous, clearly aware that his lateness had not gone unnoticed.

The King turned his sharp gaze on him. "And what excuse do you have this time, Taehyung?" His tone was edged with annoyance, a warning that was hard to miss.

"No, Aaboji, I was... sleeping," Taehyung hesitated, biting his lip nervously.

The King slammed his hand on the table, causing everyone to flinch, even Taehyung. "You were sleeping?!!" His voice thundered through the room. "You know how much I hate unpunctuality, right? Useless!" he barked, making Taehyung shrink in his seat. "Now take a seat!" he ordered sternly.

Jimin couldn’t help but scoff, his sarcasm bubbling over. "Unpunctual, and thinks he can become King," he muttered with a smirk, clearly trying to get under Taehyung’s skin.

Taehyung shot him a savage look, irritation flashing in his eyes. "Then you think you can, PARK - JI - MIN?" he snapped, his voice dripping with venom as he responded to Jimin’s provocation. "Do you think a disrespectful son like you—who changed his royal surname—can take the throne?!" Taehyung’s smirk grew as he taunted Jimin, his teeth flashing like a challenge.

"You shut up or else I will—" Jimin stood abruptly, his temper flaring.

The King’s voice cut through the rising tension. "Enough, Jimin!" he roared, silencing the room instantly.

"But Aaboji—" Jimin began, his brows furrowing as he tried to protest.

"What wrong did Taehyung say, huh?" the King countered, his voice sharp and biting. "You’ve absolutely shown disrespect to our royalty by changing your middle name!! You’re wrong every freaking time. Get out of my sight!" His order was final, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Jimin shot a murderous glare at Taehyung, who responded with a playful wave, enjoying the power shift. Yesol couldn’t help but giggle at her brother’s teasing, the lightness of the moment offering a brief escape from the underlying tension of the room.

______________________

[Aaboji - Father
Eeomoni (Ommoni) - Mother
Oraboni/Obrabi - elder brother (for girls)]

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