* * *

Bang!

“Hey!!”

The ornate reception room, drenched in gold, echoed with the sharp slam of its heavy door.

A short, angry shout seeped through the cracks, but Yigang turned his head indifferently, as if he hadn’t heard a thing.

“…Your Highness, it seems the Princess is calling for you.”

Asel glanced at the firmly shut door and spoke, but Yigang walked off with a completely unbothered expression.

“Shame I wasn’t born with a talent for listening to nonsense.”

Referring to the Princess as a dog with such nonchalance, Yigang elicited synchronized thoughts of ‘There he goes again’ from both Anna and Asel.

It was absurd to even entertain the idea that the misanthropic Crown Prince might treat the Princess as a proper lady.

They weren’t sure if they should feel relieved or disappointed by their master’s consistency.

“Where is Dowoon?”

“In his chambers,” Anna replied promptly to Yigang’s question.

“Good. Let’s go.”

“…He’s in his own chambers, not yours, Your Highness.”

“…Why?”

Yigang paused instinctively at Anna’s added comment, his steps halting mid-stride.

It was only natural for Dowoon to be in his personal space.

Yet, hearing it stated aloud brought an odd stillness to Yigang’s voice, which now carried faint tension.

“Your Highness, may I speak freely as one who serves you?”

“You will regardless of what I say, won’t you?”

Yigang’s eyebrow arched slightly at Anna’s unexpected audacity, yet he didn’t seem inclined to stop her.

Accepting her master’s subtle permission, Anna spoke in a determined tone.

“Lord Dowoon is a man slow to notice things and far from perceptive. To put it bluntly, he’s rather dense.”

Her unrestrained assessment flowed freely, and Yigang narrowed his eyes, his curiosity piqued.

So she wasn’t just blindly loyal to Dowoon after all.

Who knew?

“I didn’t realize you had a hobby of gossiping behind people’s backs.”

He spoke dryly, wondering what could be driving her to make such provocative remarks right in front of him.

“But, Your Highness, you are even worse. For someone as perceptive as you, your indifference is remarkable. A sudden frost might seem warmer by comparison.”

“…Is criticizing me to my face also a hobby of yours?”

Yigang’s gaze turned sharp. Anna flinched but quickly shot a pleading look at Asel.

Caught off guard, Asel blinked a few times before stammering, “W-Well, Anna is right. Your Highness, you should be more considerate of Lord Dowoon.”

“You too, Asel?”

Yigang turned toward him, his disbelief evident.

Asel coughed awkwardly and averted his gaze.

For once in their long careers, Anna and Asel had dared to confront their master directly.

The air was tense, their mouths dry as they awaited their punishment.

But Yigang simply stood silent for a while.

The longer the silence stretched, the more anxious Anna and Asel became, cold sweat running down their backs.

Given Yigang’s temperament, it wouldn’t be surprising if he sent them straight to the dungeons for this insolence.

Finally, Yigang broke the silence. His words, however, were unexpected.

“Then, what do you think I should do?”

The most surprised by his question was Asel, whose usually half-lidded, bored eyes now widened in genuine shock.

A master asking for his subordinates’ opinions?

It was an unprecedented sight.

Anna, equally dumbfounded, quickly regained her composure and spoke with a carefully measured tone.

“Before having tea with the Princess, if you’d simply told Lord Dowoon you’d return soon and that nothing happened, that would’ve been enough.”

“…I don’t see why I should’ve done that, but it’s too late now.”

Yigang’s expression showed he clearly didn’t understand, but Anna pressed on, determined not to give up.

“It’s true that it’s already in the past, but there’s still an opportunity. Show Lord Dowoon, even subtly, that you think about him often. Otherwise, he’ll never know.”

As Anna’s speech gained momentum, Asel nodded fervently in agreement beside her.

“Even just a simple reassurance—‘Nothing happened with the Princess’—would put Lord Dowoon at ease.”

“Why should I have to say something like that?”

Yigang frowned, his irritation evident. Anna met his gaze with unyielding resolve.

“Your Highness, how would you feel if Lord Dowoon went on a midnight date alone with the Third Prince?”

“Ridiculous. That would never happen without my permission.”

He cut her off coldly, completely missing the point.

“It’s just a hypothetical. If it did happen—”

“You’re wasting your breath. Why bother thinking about something that won’t happen?”

Anna’s lips twitched in frustration.

Her master was brilliant in every Pield but utterly clueless when it came to emotions.

‘How did Lord Dowoon end up with someone this dense?’

Then again, wasn’t Dowoon equally clueless? Birds of a feather, indeed.

“Your Highness… if you keep this up, Lord Dowoon might start to dislike you.”

Anna resorted to her final, most dramatic warning.

But Yigang’s expression remained as impassive as ever.

“Enough. Leave. You’re noisy.”

Anna and Asel were unceremoniously dismissed.

As they watched Yigang walk away, their expressions grew darker.

“He didn’t understand a word of it.”

Asel sighed, and Anna let out a long, exasperated breath.

“At least he didn’t throw us in the dungeons. That’s progress.”

As Anna tried to console herself, Asel was about to agree when Yigang suddenly stopped.

Turning back, he gave them a chilling smile.

“Both of you, report to the training grounds. Stay until morning.”

And with that, he disappeared down the corridor.

The training grounds—a place of pure hell where lethal weapons flew nonstop.

It was infamous among the shadows as the worst punishment imaginable.

“…The dungeons might’ve been better.”

Even Asel, usually stoic, clutched his forehead in dismay.

“Lord Dowoon better reject him one day. Thoroughly,” Anna muttered through gritted teeth.

Asel closed his eyes, silently agreeing.

---

At a slightly secluded corner of the tranquil Crown Prince’s palace, Dowoon’s room was located.

Standing in front of the golden doorknob that gleamed even in the darkness, Yigang stared at it intently.

His hand hesitated momentarily with doubt but soon grasped the doorknob firmly.

Creaaak.*

As the door opened, the faint flicker of a dying candle was consumed by the pristine moonlight spilling in, casting a soft shimmer in the room.

His gaze immediately landed on Dowoon, asleep at the table by the window.

Resting his head on folded arms, Dowoon’s presence was both serene and fragile.

Beside his hand lay an empty bottle of liquor and a single, neatly placed glass.

‘A servant mentioned earlier that a liquor bottle was missing. So, that’s where it went.’

Why it was here, Yigang didn’t know, nor did he care.

If Dowoon wanted liquor, he could have as much as he desired.

‘I’ve seen him pass out like this after drinking before.’

The vague déjà vu brought an odd sense of delight.

Even if it was a redundant memory, as long as it centered on Cheong Dowoon, it wasn’t unpleasant.

Yigang approached the window.

Dowoon’s golden-brown hair glistened faintly in the moonlight, and beneath it, his tightly shut eyes twitched ever so slightly.

The subtle movement caused a strange pang in Yigang’s chest.

The unfamiliar sensation tugged at his lips, curving them into a faint smile.

“Cheong Dowoon.”

This utterly defenseless side of Dowoon was a privilege only Yigang had the right to see, and that knowledge brought immeasurable satisfaction.

* * *