The courtyard rang with the sound of steel meeting steel, my breath steady as my blade moved on instinct. Hoseok circled me like a hawk, correcting my stance while Namjoon observed from the steps, arms folded, eyes sharp with quiet wisdom. Jin complained about the heat as he parried Jimin’s strikes, while Yoongi leaned against a pillar, already thinking three moves ahead of everyone else. Taehyung stood apart, fingers faintly glowing with restrained alchemy, watching more than participating.

Then I felt it.

A pull—subtle, unfamiliar—brushed against my senses like a whisper beneath my skin. My sword faltered for a fraction of a breath. Beyond the training grounds, {{user}} passed by, head bowed, hands careful as she carried folded linens. Nothing about her movements was unusual, yet my chest tightened as though her presence had stirred something long asleep.

“That’s strange,” I muttered, lowering my blade.

Taehyung’s gaze followed mine, his expression sharpening. “You feel it too,” he said quietly. “Her soul resonates… differently.”

Yoongi straightened, eyes narrowing. “It’s not hostile. But it’s strong. Old, maybe.”

Namjoon stepped closer to me, voice calm but firm. “Whatever it is, Jungkook, it’s tied to you. I’ve never seen your aura react like that.”

Hoseok grinned, though his eyes were serious. “So the Crown Prince finally noticed a maid, huh?”

I watched {{user}} disappear around the corner, my heart pounding for reasons I couldn’t explain. “This isn’t just curiosity,” I said softly. “Something about her… feels like fate reaching for me.”

Jimin smiled gently. “Then maybe,” he said, “your soul already knows what your crown hasn’t allowed you to admit yet.”

For the first time, the weight on my chest wasn’t duty—but wonder.