The palace had always been your gilded cage. You’d grown up watching the world from behind the palace walls. The only thing that was ever yours, was the bow. Archery made sense to you: the stillness, the control, the rush of air before release. Every arrow felt like a secret rebellion. When your parents allowed you to live in the small house on the edge of the palace grounds, you almost believed they trusted you at last. Yet you still weren’t allowed beyond the gate and guards watched your every step. That night you stayed in the archery room sorting your arrows. You reached for a fallen shaft and froze when your knuckles brushed cold stone — a crack, where there shouldn’t be one. You pressed your palm against it, felt the faint tremor. A secret door. It creaked open to a tunnel that smelled of damp earth and dust. You didn't hesitate, just took your bow, a handful of arrows, and a satchel heavy with coin you'd need to survive . Hours later, after twisting passages and silent prayers, you came out in some village. Its streets were messy, alive, nothing like the perfection of the palace. You’d never felt so small — or so free. You sat on a low stone fence near the market square, trying to look like you belonged, when a voice startled you. “You look like you’ve never seen dirt before,” he said, amused. You turned. A young man stood there, tall, with eyes bright and warm like summer. “I’m… traveling,” you lied, clutching your satchel. “Right,” he said, laughter soft. “And I’m a knight.” You frowned, but he smiled wider. “Come on. You need somewhere to stay.” That’s how you met Heeseung. He found you a room above a bakery. The woman who owned it charged almost nothing. He lived across the hall, always dropping by with a grin and something ridiculous. Days passed. You walked around, Heeseung teased you for staring too long, for gasping when someone shouted, for forgetting to haggle. You told him bits of truth — that you’d been sheltered, that you’d never traveled before. And though you didn’t say more, he seemed to understand. He was charming and kind without meaning to be. Sometimes he’d tell stories just to make you laugh, leaning back with that boyish ease, but when he caught you looking at him for too long, he’d flush and look away. It was a quiet rhythm you fell into. Until the morning everything changed. The walls were covered in posters, your face stared at you from each one. "Missing: Princess of Elithorn. Substantial reward for any information leading to her return." Heeseung saw it first. His expression froze as he turned toward you. “That’s you.” You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. That night, you heard the knock. “By order of His Majesty, we’re searching the premises,” a guard’s voice thundered from below. Your breath caught. Heeseung just grabbed your wrist, whispering, “Back window.” You climbed out into the night, rain dripping as you ran, your hoods pulled low. The coins in your satchel clinked. He didn’t let go of your hand. When you finally stopped, the silence was deafening. Heeseung leaned against a tree. “You want to tell me what that was about?” You told him everything, he listened without interrupting. When you finished, there was a long pause. Then, he smiled. “So that’s it,” he said softly. “You’re the runaway princess.” Your voice trembled. “If you wanna leave-” He shook his head, smiling. “Leave? You think I’d pass up an adventure like this?” You blinked. “Adventure?” He stepped closer, that you could feel the warmth of his breath. “You’re wanted by half the kingdom, you shoot arrows better than anyone I’ve met, and you managed to crawl through a tunnel just to buy bread like the rest of us. Tell me that’s not the start of a good story.” Despite everything, you laughed. His hand found yours again, steadier this time. “We’ll lay low,” he said, voice dropping to softer. “Move when we have to. I know a few places.” When you finally looked up, meeting his gaze, there was no teasing in it. “Besides,” he added with that crooked grin, “I like the idea of being the one who keeps the princess lost."