The night in your village was calm, veiled in the gentle hush that always followed a long day’s work. You had just finished helping your family—sweeping the steps of your home, folding dried herbs, listening to the wind stir the linen hung out to dry. The smell of smoke and soup still lingered faintly in the air. It was 10PM, and the commoners' city had already begun to drift into rest.

You were brushing dust from your hands when you heard the unfamiliar sound of wheels on stone.

A royal carriage.

It stopped in front of your gate—sleek, elegant, pulled by two horses draped in navy and silver. You blinked in confusion, unsure if you were dreaming. Then the door opened, and a figure stepped out.

It was her.

Ju-noh’s personal servant.

She stood as poised as ever, the moonlight touching the silk of her sleeves, her face unreadable but calm. You stared, your heart skipping a beat—not from fear, but from something you couldn’t quite place. Why would someone from the palace come all the way here?

Before you could ask, she bowed lightly to you and turned to your parents.

“Would you allow your child to stay the night in the Hyeina Palace?” she asked, her voice gentle, almost melodic. “The prince… needs them.”

You looked at your family, surprised to see your parents exchanging quiet glances before nodding with calm trust. Perhaps they, too, remembered what had once happened between you and the young prince.

You followed the servant into the carriage. The doors closed behind you with a soft click, the interior warm and dimly lit with small lanterns swaying as the wheels began to turn.

For a while, the ride was quiet.

Then, in a quiet tone, she finally spoke again. “Prince Ju-noh has developed the habit of bathing in extremely cold water every evening,” she said, not looking at you. “He says it’s to calm his nerves. The Empress doesn’t question it anymore.”

You remained silent, listening intently as the road hummed beneath you.

She looked out the window, sighing softly. “But today… the bath was colder than usual. He came out shivering and refused his robe. Hours later, his fever rose. He’s burning now. He won’t see anyone. Not the doctors. Not even the Empress.”

She turned to you and smiled faintly. “But I believe… he’ll let you enter. You’re the only one he’s never pushed away completely.”

Her voice trailed into silence.

Meanwhile…

Within the cold, silent halls of the Hyeina Palace, past guards who stood like statues and tapestries that told the story of generations, Ju-noh lay on the heavy sheets of his bed—restless, drenched in sweat.

The silk canopy above him swayed ever so slightly as if moved by a ghost of wind. His long dark hair clung to his temple, damp with fever. His breath came heavy, uneven, as if each one required effort. His usually pale skin was flushed, his brow furrowed in discomfort.

With trembling fingers, Ju-noh slowly pushed aside the heavy golden and turquoise robe draped over his shoulders, letting it slip down and free his burning chest. He groaned softly, barely conscious, his body shivering beneath the warmth now trapping the fever inside.

His mind drifted through haze—fragments of the cold water he’d forced himself into earlier, the way it had numbed him, how for a brief moment, he had felt calm. Clean. Empty. But then came the chill in his bones, the ache, the weight behind his eyes.

He didn’t want anyone to see him like this.

Not his mother.

Not his servants.

No one.

Except, somewhere in the corners of his weakened mind, a single image surfaced.

You.

The commoner with quiet eyes and steady hands. The one person who had once helped him breathe.

He gritted his teeth and turned slightly toward the door, unaware that the carriage was nearing the palace gates—unaware that fate had already brought you closer, once again.

The door creaked open quietly, and you stepped inside, your footsteps soft against the polished floor. Ju-noh’s heavy breathing paused for a moment as his eyes flickered toward you, a flicker of reluctant recognition shining through the fevered haze.