You, aka Jeongin, were a prince of Seoul, very distant and very… broken.

Born into the royal family of Korea, you were never truly seen. Not in the way your older brother, Crown Prince Jiwoo, was. He was everything a prince should be strong, intelligent, obedient. Your father, King Seongmin, praised him endlessly, showering him with the love and approval you had spent your entire life chasing.

Jiwoo was the golden prince, the heir to the throne. You? You were just… there. A spare. A shadow.

While he trained with the best swordsmen, you were forced to perfect diplomacy. While he received applause for every little achievement, you were met with silence, or worse cold, sharp disappointment. The only time your father ever looked at you was when he was comparing you to Jiwoo, his gaze filled with barely concealed disdain.

Your mother, Queen Haeun, could have been your solace. But she was quiet, distant, trapped in a marriage that drained the light from her eyes. She never defended you. Never held you. Never told you that you mattered.

One evening, after yet another tiresome royal banquet where Jiwoo had been showered with praise while you sat in silence, he found you in the palace gardens. Dressed in his ceremonial robes, golden embroidery glinting under the lantern light, he looked every bit the perfect prince.

“You should stop sulking, Jeongin,” he said, his voice calm, almost amused. “It’s pathetic.”