III. The Second Week: Games and Serenade

 

Throughout the capital, house banners hung on street lamps swaying in the wind. Their unique colors and designs showcased an increase in festivities, as if the enormous crowds moving towards the front gates weren’t telling enough. It’s a seemingly endless river of people, all travelling down the path to the open fields where tents lined the way, closer and closer to the deafening chatter, the sound of horses neighing, steel on steel clashing, and the thunderous cheers and applause constantly erupting.

 

The Games had begun--though, without warning and almost immediately Seulgi might add, as she and the other suitors barely received a two-day’s notice. How the capital managed to prepare several contests, tents, food, decorations and the like on such a grand scale and in such a short time was almost unfathomable. She didn’t think it would be so imposing when they first explained it.

 

A little show of sport among the suitors. Fun competition in which they'd not only give honor to their House and homelands, but to the Princess as well--the key point of everything. For her future partner should, at the very least, be capable of some physical prowess one would think. The event would span one week long, free for all to attend, whether they be common folk or noble--a good opportunity for the people to familiarize themselves with the Princess’s future partner.

 

Plus, everyone loves a good show, don’t they?

 

Yes, it’s nothing but small, friendly games to play.

 

Seulgi sighs, realizing they’d been fed a huge understatement of an explanation as she sits atop her horse, observing the ever-growing surrounding audience. One would think that with all the events concurrently taking place, there wouldn’t be so many spectators. Especially for horse-back racing, one of the more boring competitions in Seulgi’s opinion.

 

Why stand around the track here when you can watch other lords joust at the other end of the field? Or observe the hammer-throwing tournament? Or even see the ridiculous apple bobbing contest?

 

The answer? Perhaps those places were already too crowded with men, women, and children alike. Oh how Seulgi wishes that she too could be a spectator to the more exciting matches.

 

Such an incredible slew of games, ranging from dangerous to absurd but here she is, forced to take part in the fifth round of horse-back races out of who knows how many rounds given how many competitors there were to cycle through.

 

She grimaces and readjusts herself on her saddle. Uncomfortable with how stiff the seat is, wishing she can just toss the thing as she typically rides . Though, it doesn’t matter, she supposes. Seulgi holds no expectations of actually winning her round knowing she’s only a decent rider at best. But looking around at her nine other competitors… well. Assuming she rides well enough, she might make it to fourth or fifth. And maybe, possibly, third?

 

Seulgi shakes her head.

 

No, third is pushing it. Only the top three of each round advanced further in the horse-back racing competition, continuously racing until only the top ten racers are left to battle out who would be number one amongst them all in one final round. Making it even past one round would be a feat for her. But such a thing seems unlikely.

 

“Everyone, please take your positions!”

 

Instantly, the voices die down as the viewers hear the official call out. Seulgi shoots up straight, shaking herself from her thoughts. Suddenly, nerves begin to bundle in her stomach. For someone with little expectation or care for winning, she’s surprisingly nervous. The Lords beside Seulgi grip their reins, itching to take off. She too, clutches her own and takes in a breath, focusing her eyes forward as time slows down and she can feel her shoulders stiffen.

 

Waiting and anticipating.

 

“Ready?” the official shouts from the side, waving a red flag as he glances over the racers.

 

He blinks, nods, and then swings the flag downwards. Instantly, the horses launch forward and the volume of voices is deafening as they escalate to indistinguishable roars.

 

It happens in less than a second. Already, five people pull ahead of Seulgi. Hooves thunder down the track and dirt disperses everywhere as they gallop to victory, taunting her. She leans in on her horse, gaining more speed as they reach the curve of the track all in the span of what feels like ten heartbeats. Beside her, a man loses his grip on the reins and falls off his horse. Behind her, another is thrown off. The track wasn’t large and already, they’re halfway done--this race will be over and all too quickly at that.

 

Seulgi grits her teeth and urges her horse to gallop faster, harder. She doesn’t expect to win but sixth place? That’s too pitiful, even for her.

 

Five heartbeats pass and she closes in on the fifth rider and he disappears from her view. Fourth is an arm’s length away but he fights to maintain his position, riding hard as he sends sharp glares at Seulgi, telling her to back off. He pulls forward attempting to overtake third.

 

But unfortunately his horse is losing steam, slowing down as Seulgi comes neck and neck with him as the end is in sight. First place crosses the finish line and the cheers are ear-splitting. Seulgi grins as she gains her last bit of speed, snatching fourth place and right in front of her, is third.

 

So close.

 

So, so close.

 

If she pushes even harder, then just maybe…

 

Her hands fiercely hold the reins and she sets her sights on the finish. In the next heartbeat, she crosses it. Seulgi exhales, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Sweat trickles down her temple and she her lips.

 

Fourth, just as she expected.

 

Third, in hindsight, would’ve been a feat but having to wait around until her next race and participate once more? She prefers not to. Her horse slows to a trot and she wipes the sweat from her face using the back of her hand. Yes, the outcome is sufficient enough to her liking and now, she can participate in the more interesting contests.

 

She waves to the elated crowd, flashing a smile. But when a familiar looking spectator catches her eye, Seulgi’s jaw drops and she makes haste.

 

--

 

In the distance, a man catches her gaze. His grin reaching from ear to ear as he jogs toward her across the field, unaware of the earful he’s about to receive. He playfully punches her shoulder.

 

“Hey, Seul! That was some good riding out there!” Seulong commends her.

 

And Seulgi scowls at her brother, keeping her voice low, careful not to catch any stray ears, “What are you doing here?!”

 

When it comes to her brother, Seulgi knows better than anyone how much of an idiot he can be at times. In fact, most of the time. But even she thought he would exercise more caution than this given the circumstances they put themselves in.

 

Sure, there’s his disguise but she considers it minimal at best. Standing there with his sleeveless tunic and long trousers. A bandana hiding his hair giving a laborer-like look but leaving his face in full view. One good look between the two of them and it’s hard to miss the similarity. And even just a hint of suspicion may jeopardize them.

 

His head jerks backward a bit, brows knitting in confusion as he scoffs.

 

“I’m here to support you, of course! As soon as I heard about The Games and how all the suitors were participating, well, I had to see how you would fare in my place. Which, I must say, you did rather fine during the race. Though, I’m pretty sure you could’ve taken third had you been more aggressive--”

 

“Did you have to watch so closely, though?” Seulgi interrupts, rubbing her right temple from her growing annoyance. “And couldn’t you have hidden your face better or something instead of tying that bandana around your head? God, did it ever cross your mind that we might get caught?”

 

The possibilities run through her mind and the chance of getting exposed is all but assured in her opinion. It’s only a matter of when and where--

 

“Woah, woah, relax,” Seulong says, attempting to placate his sister, knowing full well a whirlwind of pessimism was starting in that head of hers. He slings his arm around her shoulders, leaning on her just a bit. “Come on, Seul. Look at me? I look like one of the common folk right now. No one’s going to spare me a second glance and with so many people out and about, who would bother?”

 

“Yes, but one good look at your face and mine--it’s enough to pique a person’s curiosity.”

 

“I quite doubt that.”

 

“And I disagree.”

 

“No one’s going to notice. You worry too much.”

 

“And you don’t worry enough.”

 

“And that’s why we make a great team. We balance each other out. Come oooon, Seul, ease up,” he childishly whines, giving her cheek a small poke.

 

Then, a moment of silence is shared between them, letting their arguments sink in. But Seulgi remains unconvinced, leering at her brother as her frown deepens. The older sibling finally sighs and leans more heavily on her, causing the latter to slouch beneath his weight.

 

“Fine,” Seulong groans in defeat. “I’ll be careful not to attract attention and stay a reasonable distance from you, okay? Trust me. I’ll be extra careful today. I just want to be here and root for you. Can’t a big brother do that for his little sister at the very least?”

 

And Seulgi rolls her eyes, elbowing her brother in the gut.

 

//

 

Some distance away, Joy observes the peculiar lord nicknamed the Graceless Bear, curious of the scene unfolding before her as he playfully jabs another man and they go back and forth. After all, she’s only seen the man interact with one other suitor and it was nowhere near as comfortable and casual.

 

Though, it was expected, given the fact that Lord Kang was basically a stranger to most of the other Houses, having never attended any formal parties and the like. And furthermore, humiliating himself at his first appearance at this year’s Moonlight Festival.

 

Ah, she recalls how pitiful it was to watch the rest of the suitors isolate him and snicker from afar.

 

But that’s what makes him so interesting, isn't it?

 

Because from that moment, Joy had thought he was a lost cause. An awkward, unsociable mess with absolutely no chance. But to her, and everyone else’s surprise, he’s been making a turn around. Since the moment he gave Her Highness his gift--that simple leather notebook--Joy’s been watching him ever so closely, wishing to learn more.

 

For Lord Kang is, more or less, the most mysterious and unknown of the suitors. And almost, undoubtedly, the underdog. One of the few unique stories gathered and competing for the Princess’s hand. And one of the few, Joy’s decided to watch very closely.

 

The jabbing stops and the two laugh and talk for a few moments more. A number of expressions displaying upon Lord Kang’s face, a liveliness Joy has yet to see in him before. If only he could act so naturally in the presence of the Princess. Perhaps, then he’d stand a better chance.

 

Finally, the two men stop and as they walk away from one another, bidding goodbye, Lord Kang flashes a smile that turns his eyes to crescents. And the sight has Joy blinking in bewilderment. The lady-in-waiting presses a finger to her lips as if to stifle a laugh but her lips curve in obvious amusement.

 

Yes, if only he could be more natural.

 

Joy had promised herself to remain unbiased. Maybe pick a few favorites for Her Highness--candidates that were most suited for her in her most humble opinion. Because who else knew the Princess better than her? But…

 

“Ahh,” Joy sighs as she resumes about her business, folding her hands in front of her as she walks.

 

Oh, how she loves rooting for the underdog.

 

--

 

She arrives at a red tent situated near one of the designated contest areas, shelter from the harsh sunlight of the early afternoon. Joy wipes beads of sweat from her neck, dabbing it with her handkerchief. She politely maneuvers past the other servants attending their nobles who have their goblets in hand, filled with either water or wine, sipping it empty as they laugh and chat amongst themselves. And at the front, quietly spectating, is the Princess.

 

Joy gives a small curtsy upon arrival at her side.

 

“What took you so long?” Irene inquires, eyes still fixed at the small circular lot before her, waiting.

 

“Did you miss me that dearly, Your Highness?” the lady-in-waiting smiles and tilts her head. “Were you yearning for me? Forgive me if my absence was longer than you could tolerate.”

 

“You know,” Irene turns her head slightly, glaring in her direction, “it always baffles me how you think so highly of yourself.”

 

“Only because I know you’re so fond of me. But please correct me if I’ve been misinterpreting you all these years.”

 

The Princess keeps silent.

 

And behind her, Joy can sense increasing discomfort and awkwardness. Merry laughter quieting and turning into uncomfortable coughs as the audience behind them observe their interaction--how Joy treads the line that no noble, much less a servant, should cross. She can only imagine what’s going through their minds.

 

How could a servant speak to the Princess in such a way?

 

Oh, yes. The lady-in-waiting wholeheartedly agrees. Had it been anyone but her, Joy would’ve been questioning the same thing. And on that same note, Irene wouldn’t have tolerated it for a second. But Joy is beyond that. Though she is Irene’s lady-in-waiting, she is, without a doubt, the Princess’s closest and truest friend. Bickering, teasing, and pushing like this is a normality between them. One that isn’t so quickly earned and neither so easily thrown away.

 

And it is certainly something Joy loves to flaunt. She smiles, relishing in her little bit of fun for the day.

 

“Well, you’re certainly in a good mood,” Irene sighs, alleviating the discomfort around them as she focuses her attention forward once more. “Did something happen?”

 

Nobles and servants alike return to how they once were and their chatters fill the tent.

 

“No, not quite. I was just delightfully amused by a few things on the way here.”

 

“Oh, I’d like to hear all about it. It’ll be a few more minutes before the runners come back with another bucket to add to their tally.”

 

Little did anyone know, Irene had tasked Joy to be a sort of scout during The Games. Confined to one spot as she was for long lengths of time, it was impossible for Irene to spectate every suitor in at least one contest given how many there were and how many contests were concurrently taking place. So, while she went about slowly making her rounds and watching, Joy observed wherever she wasn’t.

 

“Who should I start with first, Your Highness?”

 

“Hmm,” Irene hums, tapping her finger on the arm of her chair in thought. “How about Lord Yunho? I expect he did quite well in whatever contests he took part in.”

 

“Just so. This morning he set his eyes on the hammer-throwing contest first. He managed to place third among twenty others who were competing at the time, if I remember correctly. After that, he moved on to trying out the foot races.”

 

“Ah, no surprise there. He loved running ever since we were children, barefoot or not.”

 

“Exactly,” Joy sighs, reminiscing. Pressing a hand to her cheek as she fondly fell back on childhood memories. “I remember how he’d run circles around you after he beat you to the finish line, teasing you as you struggled to finish. You may have already guessed it, but he placed first for three rounds in a row.” And it was quite the sight to behold if Joy were to be honest. The gap between first and second place wasn’t even remotely close. “He’s set to do some more races later in the week. But for now, he’s taken a break of sorts trying his hand at the fishing contest.”

 

Irene raises her brow in surprise.

 

“Yes. Fishing,” Joy reiterated, as if reading the Princess’s mind. “I have no idea how long he’ll be there though. I didn’t see him catch a single thing after half an hour since he started so I became very bored and moved on. So, who else would you like to hear about?”

 

The Princess reaches her left hand out and a servant quickly makes his way over, carefully placing a goblet of water in her waiting hand. She takes three long sips and then returns it, refreshing herself as the shade of their tent can only provide so much relief from the increasing heat.

 

“How about Wendy? Is she overdoing it?”

 

“Lady Wendy is playing it smart from what I could see,” Joy answers, pressing a finger to her lip in thought. “She’s been carefully choosing what contests to take part in. Currently, she’s set for more horse-back races after having made it to the top three for the last two rounds she participated in. But her next race is tomorrow so she’s moved onto the arm-wrestling competition for the rest of the day.”

 

“Of course that’s where she is,” Irene shakes her head and the corners of her lips turn slightly upward in amusement. “How is she faring there?”

 

“Amazingly well--too well, in fact. I’m sure you recall how surprisingly strong she is, especially for her size. Her lady-in-waiting, Yeri, has been cheering her on non-stop every round. I’m sure her voice is on the verge of disappearing as we speak.” She remembers being in awe of how a woman as petite as Yeri could be so loud. Her tiny frame jumping up and down, shouting her lady’s name, and then yelling in celebration at every victory. The image is hard to forget. “But I am frustrated to report that some of these lords have the most scrawny arms, Your Highness,” Joy groans much louder than intended as a few eyes glance at her. But oh, her disappointment is too difficult to mask. “It’s as if they’ve never picked up a single thing in their life.”

 

The complaint elicits melodic laughter from the Princess.

 

“I’m assuming you disapprove of a lot of those lords now.”

 

“Absolutely. I’ll be sure to give you their names later.”

 

“Your Highness! Here they come!” a servant, who Joy assumes is the main overseer of this contest, shouts from the circular lot.

 

In the distance, Joy can make out about ten men or so quickly approaching. Some holding two buckets, one for each hand, and others struggling as they cradle only one with both of their arms. The water inside swishes back and forth, drenching their clothes and the lady-in-waiting can see obvious exhaustion in their faces as they struggle to run the last few meters. On the side, a servant marks tallies for each name on the board. The total astonishes Joy.

 

“I can’t believe you made this into an actual contest,” she mutters just loud enough for Irene’s ears.

 

The servant keeping tally comes running to their tent, giving a quick bow, “Your Highness, should we go ahead and declare the winner now? Lord Minho is clearly winning and…” he pauses for a moment as his eyes briefly linger to the participants huffing and puffing. They struggle to catch their breath after setting their buckets down. Utter exhaustion is written across each of their faces and there are no attempts to hide it--the effort to maintain appearances has long been disposed of. And perhaps their will power to continue as well. “I don’t believe anyone has the determination to catch up.”

 

Irene wastes no time in dismissing the suggestion.

 

“No, the contest will continue,” the princess declares authoritatively without sparing a single glance. And before the servant can even stutter any sort of sorry objection, Irene continues. “The horses are still racing and our audiences need to stay hydrated. This contest is not only a test of strength and endurance but a necessity as well,” she explains. “It’s a task that requires great determination and resilience. As such, inform our participants that the top victors here will earn a high standing with me and that a spot in the top three here will carry much more weight than any of the other contests. After all, such hard labor should be credited appropriately.”

 

The servant moves his mouth to speak, gawking. But ultimately, he remains quiet, accepting Her Highness’ orders and then bowing to leave. Joy hides her smile behind her hand, careful not to let any giggles slip.

 

This was just one of the few ludicrous games the Princess included. And although she described their purpose so logically and presented them as fairly reasonable, well, the first and foremost reason to even having them? Entertainment. Joy remembers Irene groaning of how she would die of immense boredom if she were forced to watch only horse-back racing, weight lifting, or duels the entire day for the whole week.

 

Plus, contests like those left little to no chance for the suitors who were more athletically challenged to put it politely. So, what better way to spice things up than to add unusual contests such as Water Bucket Retrieval, Apple Bobbing, Landscape Painting, Poetry Reading, and the like.

 

It was a proposition Joy wholeheartedly agreed with purely to serve her own amusement, but it was also one that the Royal Council could not argue against either.

 

“Joy,” Irene calls, “continue what you were saying earlier. Tell me who else you saw and how they fared.”

 

--

 

After speaking continuously for nearly half an hour, Joy her lips, parched as she finishes. In immediate response, Irene offers her goblet of water to which Joy happily accepts, taking two huge gulps to refresh herself.

 

She didn’t think it would take so long to relay all that she’d seen or that she’d even seen that much at all. And she’d barely even observed half of the suitors. Sudden exhaustion creeps up on her as she recalls that she’ll be repeating this exact thing every day for the remainder of the week.

 

“And what about him?”

 

Joy blinks in confusion.

 

“Lord Kang,” Irene clarifies. “Were you able to observe him today?”

 

The lady-in-waiting suppresses a grin, slightly bowing her head in apology. “No, unfortunately I didn’t have the chance, but... I did find something out,” she says, hoping to incite some curiosity from Her Highness.

 

Out in the circular lot, suitors gather their empty buckets and break into a run. Hurrying for more water after hearing the servant relay the Princess’ words on the importance of this contest. Reignited vigor seems to burn in their bellies as even the slowest and losing competitors push themselves to continue.

 

Irene turns to look at Joy, eyebrow slightly raised, “What is it?”

 

And Joy gives the most dramatic sigh as she presses a hand to her cheek, exaggerating her own captivation.

 

“He has the most charming smile. Enough to set one’s heart aflutter.”

 

There it is. A subtle scowl, just as Joy hoped for.

 

“You’re supposed to be impartially observing. Not swaying over my suitors,” Irene complains, though she expertly retains a neutral tone. Not that it mattered with Joy. She’s always able to tell.

 

The lady-in-waiting giggles. Teasing is such fun, especially when it bears fruit.

 

“Do not worry, Your Highness. I am simply admiring. As if I would dare steal someone from you.”

 

//

 

The next two days were gruelling as Seulgi struggled to keep up. Mostly participating in the more physical competitions as well as putting a bit of effort, here and there, in the art and literature contests. More and more, her body became heavy and sluggish, weighed down by fatigue--it’s become a battle to even stand at this point. Thankfully, she’s not doing terribly. Just average at best if she were to be honest.

 

Games of quickness, endurance, and agility are where she shined. Her days of hunting and chasing down prey in the forests back home prepared her quite well. Though the same can’t be said for brute strength and raw power. The other lords beat her easily enough simply due to their difference in size and stature. A head on competition like that, well, Seulgi has no chance. But still she did her best where she could and pulled out all the stops where she had the best chances in winning.

 

And in the midst of her struggles, panting to catch her breath as she tries to keep up with her competitors, Seulgi occasionally catches the Princess watching from afar. There in the audience stands or in one of the tents reserved for spectators of nobility. Her eyes are always focused, lips pressed into a thin line with little to no emotion betraying her cool demeanor. However, the Princess only ever stayed for an hour at most as she seemed to be constantly on the move, probably trying to see as many contests as possible. It was hard to tell if she was either engrossed in her observations or simply bored out of her mind. At the very least, Seulgi hopes she’s enjoying herself even the tiniest bit.

 

//

 

Duels are not her forte.

 

Yes, she’s had basic training in wielding a sword but other than that, it’s a skill she’s neglected developing further. On the other hand, Seulong--to the surprise of many, herself included--was quite skilled with a blade. Sometimes, back at The Isles, they’d duel for fun. Nothing serious but enough to work up a sweat and keep her training intact. Which, thankfully, has served her quite well today.

 

Her sword clashes with her opponent’s, steel ringing upon contact. The impact hits like a wave up her arm. Seulgi’s already sore muscles burning with every collision. She inhales a sharp breath as they break off for a split second before closing in on each other once more. Lord Doyoung raises his arm, coming down with a powerful vertical slash and Seulgi braces herself, successfully blocking it yet again.

 

And again.

 

And again.

 

With each strike, she feels her strength waning. Exhaustion is undoubtedly catching up to her as she winces while fending off every attack, breathless as her arms begin to go numb. The power of his blows clearly surpasses hers and if this keeps up, it’s only a matter of time until she succumbs to defeat. He need only batter her until her arms give out.

 

But it’s not over. Lord Doyoung may dominate in raw power, but Seulgi’s speed is nearly unrivaled.

 

All she needs is an opening.

 

He continues relentlessly. Slashing over and over, going all in with brute force tactics. Unfortunately for him, Seulgi continuously fends off each one as she has before. After so many practice duels with Seulong, blocking is what she’s best at when it comes to swordplay. She grits her teeth, hand tightening around the grip of her sword and Lord Doyoung tries harder.

 

Wilder.

 

Sloppy.

 

Irritated.

 

Until--there. He grounds his feet and pulls his arm back, aiming with the point of his blade forward. He wants to finish this and Seulgi sees his intent. A near the top center of her armor plate--the area near the base of her neck. If he’s successful, it’d be the winning move.

 

But that won’t happen.

 

Seulgi takes in a breath, her eyes focus and everything quiets around her. Silence. Complete patience and concentration, as if she were out in the forest, bow drawn back and ready. The arrow aimed at her prey, ready to let loose.

 

It just takes the right moment.

 

And he lunges, arm ing forward, seeking victory. In an instant, Seulgi moves her sword to intercept, letting his blade’s edge run along hers. Then, when it draws near, just a split second from contact, she shifts. Memories of Seulong flash through her mind. His movement, speed, and the force of his counters. She mimics it, mustering all the strength she has left and parries.

 

Lord Doyoung’s sword goes flying from his hand, twirling in the air and then landing several feet away, hitting the ground with a clank. Everything goes quiet and the audience seems to have stilled. He glances at the disarmed weapon, then at his empty hand, and then to her, aghast. Sweat drips from his chin and he looks down in defeat.

 

“Lord Kang is the victor!”

 

Applause ripples around Seulgi and the sword falls from her grip as she sighs in both relief and exhaustion. It’s the first duel she’s ever won, not that she’s had many duels to begin with. But hopefully, Seulong was in the crowd somewhere, relishing in her victory.

 

--

 

A tiny smirk spreads across Joy’s lips, hands clapping in unison with those around her as she watches Lord Kang wearily drag himself out of the dueling circle.

 

In her astute opinion, Joy had put Lord Kang and Lord Doyoung at even chances of winning. From what she knows, neither of them had any prowess in sword fighting, nor had either of them displayed such similar combat abilities so far in all the contests they’ve partaken in. Though watching for herself, both fared much better than she would’ve imagined. But Joy will admit, around halfway through the fight, she thought Lord Doyoung’s victory was all but assured.

 

And that last move, that incredible burst of speed, parrying at the last second and disarming his opponent--Lord Kang was most impressive in that moment. Coming back from the brink of defeat, why, it was so exciting!

 

Seriously, Joy would love to witness more of that. Sadly, moments like that seemed to be very few and far between for The Games from all that she's seen thus far. And Joy can’t help but sigh, feeling a tinge of disappointment.

 

She wonders, can Lord Kang pull off something like that again?

 

Checking on who’s left for the second rounds and how the lord seems to be on the verge of collapsing, probably not.

 

Well, no matter, at least he gave her one thrilling moment to hold onto. One that she can’t wait to share with the Princess.

 

But for now, well… she can spare to watch just a little more.

 

--

 

Seulgi takes a break on a nearby bench reserved for fellow dueling participants. The sweat on her face and neck long since dried now as everyone has finished their first rounds and are moving to their second. Internally, she curses, just now realizing she’d have to do another match. Seulgi looks at her trembling hands, thinking it might’ve been better if she’d lost earlier. Maybe she can just forfeit this next round. Give her body a bit of rest. After all, given the state she’s in, she’s more likely to lose even if she tries.

 

Thinking on it more, Seulgi finds herself smirking. If Seulong could hear her thoughts, he would’ve scolded her to oblivion.

 

You want to forfeit?! You’re willing to lose without even trying?! Come on, Seul, you’re going to make me look like a delicate flower.

 

True. Forfeiting would probably be more hurtful to Seulong’s image, which, she supposes, outweighs her need for rest. She sighs. Effort is the main thing that matters. Even if she’s to lose, Seulgi resolves to give it her all. Though it may mean utter pain for the next few days, she promised her brother she’d do her best.

 

And Seulgi closes her eyes, resting as much as she possibly can until her name is called.

 

--

 

It’s the second to last day of The Games and Irene’s slowly coming to the realization of just how poorly she’s both overestimated and underestimated the event. Not only has it been less entertaining overall but, much to her displeasure, the whole experience has been incredibly draining. Though Irene is quite aware she’s not the one who should be complaining, sitting in her seat, simply observing while all of her suitors tirelessly competed against one another for nearly five days straight.

 

No, in comparison, she has no right.

 

It’s just…

 

While the contests are indeed physically exhausting for the lordlings, her role as an observer has been rather mentally and emotionally taxing on her part as families and supporters of these suitors relentlessly badger her. Jumping at every opportunity to talk her ear off and then some. Why couldn’t they just let these lords prove themselves like they’re supposed to?

 

She suppresses a sigh and then nods, feigning interest as Lord Doyoung’s father blabs about who-knows-what. He was today’s unwanted irritation and he’d been going on for the past hour or so, much to her amazement.

 

But, through sheer effort and what little leftover patience she’s able to scrape up, Irene maintains her expression. Keeping a polite air about her, not wanting to disrespect him. Though he is increasingly making it difficult.

 

They always make it more difficult.

 

“I assure you, Your Highness, you’ll find no better man than my son, Doyoung. Bah! He is what every woman dreams of!”

 

She bites the inside of her cheek to keep back a laugh.

 

Don’t.

 

“In fact, he’s received quite a number of offers these past two years, though none of them were quite right. But my Doyoung--he is the husband you deserve,” the portly man continues, practically puffing his chest beside her. “You two would make quite the pair, I’m certain.”

 

Everyone seems to be so certain these days, she thinks. But on what basis? Pure intuition? Incredible perception? Surely not. It’s all hot air imitating substance. Still, she continues to entertain the man if only out of pure boredom.

 

“You speak very highly of him, my lord. I’m curious,” she starts, fingers drumming along the arm of her chair. Languid eyes watching the foot race that’s just begun. In under five seconds, Yunho has taken the lead just as she predicted. “What went wrong between Doyoung and these other women? Forgive me if I’m being too frank, but was it simply incompatibility or something more?” And Irene bats her eyelashes when she turns towards the father.

 

“Bah, frank? Nonsense, Your Highness,” he says a little too quickly. “It’s elementary really. They just weren’t good enough for my boy.”

 

And Irene finds herself resisting a frown. Ignoring the rising contempt because she knows better than anyone here that his reason--the same, typical reason everyone uses--is a lie. Or perhaps, more accurately, a convenient excuse to dismiss the inadequacies of his son.

 

After all, one would think a suitor must be flawless to marry the princess. For she, herself, is one free of imperfection. Is she not?

 

Wrong.

 

Out on the foot race track, Yunho has widened his lead by several meters. Kicking up dirt in his wake. Leaving the rest of the lords struggling as they battle for second place. From the looks on their faces, all had given up on even attempting to catch up to Yunho as they all run neck-in-neck alongside each other. Suddenly, applause erupts from the crowd and there at the finish line, smiling and waving to the crowd, is Yunho.

 

Still as fast as ever.

 

“--the second candidate was a bit better than the first, I’d say. Still, there was something off about her. Hmm, I think it was her nose. Yes, it was hooked a little strangely. Oh, and her accent was a bit unflattering. Along with her poor etiquette--my word, it was a rather poor display. The third girl, well she was… how should I say this… Bah, I’ll just say it! She was much too wide. But not just wide, she--”

 

Oh. Was he still talking?

 

And Irene concludes that he must love the sound of his own voice because even with her noticeable lack of attention, he continues to endlessly drawl on. Nitpicking each marriage offer that his son refused, down to the most insignificant and shallow detail. When finally, it reaches the point to where Irene can’t stand it any longer. If she has to hear him say “Bah!” one more time--

 

“Lord Kim!” she cuts him off, albeit a little more harshly than intended. Irene rises to her feet, folding her hands in front. From behind, her guards ready for her signal of departure. “Forgive me, but I must take my leave. I’ve lingered here for far too long and my observations should be equal among everyone.”

 

“Oh, of course. Of course. That’s quite diligent of you, Your Highness,” he nods.

 

Quickly, she initiates a bow, hurrying to leave. The father clumsily stands from his chair and bows back. Patience waning, Irene makes quick strides for the tent’s exit.

 

“Your Highness!” he calls, postponing her departure as she’s just steps away from it. “I hope you will take everything I said into consideration!”

 

She stifles a groan and instead, takes in a big breath. Hoping to quell her frustration enough to keep her voice cool and even.

 

“Certainly, Lord Kim,” she nods, giving a small smile back as she turns. “You have given me invaluable insight on your son. The information will serve me well during my consideration for who I will choose.”

 

“Bah! Very good!”

 

God!

 

Irene curses silently to herself and finally leaves.

 

She makes a mental note: Definitely not Lord Doyoung.

 

--

 

“Begin!”

 

Seulgi stands cautious and ready, eyeing Lord Woojin. He’s a big man. Nearly three times her size she’d say and that’s no exaggeration. The man is incredibly tall and broad shouldered and as he closes in, the size difference is even more evident as he towers over her.

 

Their eyes meet and he flashes an almost mischievous smile, twirling his sword in his left hand. Anticipation builds in her chest and she forces her breathing to keep steady. Seulgi digs her feet into the ground.

 

Lord Woojin leaps forward with one big step and Seulgi backs up, instinctively raising her sword. His attack hits like a hammer. Steel rings in her ears and her arm wobbles from the impact, grip loosening, nearly letting her sword fall. He swings again. Over and over. For a man his size, he’s remarkably fast. It takes all that she has to maintain her grip as she desperately defends herself.

 

Seulgi jumps backwards, wanting to get some distance to catch her breath and recover as she can hardly feel her sword arm--the numbness running from fingers to her elbow. But as soon she moves, she notices the widening grin on Lord Woojin’s face. The expression of a predator. He chases after her and inflicts a barrage of blows. Merciless and unrelenting slashes, one after another. Seulgi winces, barely blocking all of them and her knees threaten to buckle beneath her.

 

This was hardly still a duel. If Seulgi didn’t know any better, she’d say the man was actually trying to hurt her. Looking at his eyes, the piercing cold gaze and that permanent grin, he’s reveling in his domination.

 

And she’s nearly at her limit.

 

Her legs give out and she feels the sword knocked from her hands. Seulgi falls backwards with a groan and as she immediately tries to rise to her feet, she finds the tip of Lord Woojin’s blade just centimeters from her face. Had she moved any faster…

 

“Lord Woojin is the victor!”

 

Upon hearing the verdict, his expression instantly changes, turning cold and almost frightening in the way he looked at her. She stares at him, trying to catch her breath as she’s frozen beneath his gaze and more notably, the sword that’s still aimed at her. Her chest rises and falls as her heartbeat returns to normal, recovering from the high of their duel. All the while, Lord Woojin still hovers over her. And an eternity seems to pass before the man finally pulls his sword away.

 

He narrows his eyes at her, sneering, “Pathetic.”

 

The remark is easily brushed off as Seulgi attempts to get up, but fatigue hits her like a rock and she stumbles, falling back down to the ground. Guess she really is at her limit.

 

Lord Woojin laughs, “And so falls the Graceless Bear. You surprised me by winning your first match but it must’ve been pure luck on your part. Or perhaps Lord Doyoung was just having an off day. Regardless, someone as weak as you shouldn’t be taking part in these duels. Go try your hand at some poetry reading. It’s much more suited for a frail thing like you. Or better yet, go home.” He leers. “You may have impressed the Princess with that stupid gift of yours, posing as some gentle, understanding lordling--women do love that sort of thing, don’t they--but you’re nothing. Compared to the rest of us here, you’re way out of your league. The Princess has no need for weaklings.”

 

--

 

Seulong’s hands ball into fists, knuckles turning white as he watches from the crowd.

 

The nerve of that prick!

 

From the moment the duel began, Seulong could sense Lord Woojin’s hostility. The way he moved. How he arrogantly twisted his sword upon approach. The wicked smile set on his face as Seulgi flinched beneath his onslaught.

 

The duel has already been called and still, he hangs above Seulgi menacingly, spitting venomous words and only until he’s done, does the judge urge him to stop. Claiming that the next duels need to start immediately. Stubbornly, Lord Woojin moves away, though his eyes struggle to tear away from Seulgi as she rises to her feet. Tension hangs in the air and Seulong wishes he could run in there and give him what for.

 

If only he were the one in there instead. But of course, the only reason Seulgi was in there fighting his battles was because of his incompetence. A fact he certainly hasn’t forgotten. And it both frustrates and angers him.

 

He worms his way through the crowd, cursing to himself. Seulong stops at a less populated, open space nearby.

 

“Gods! I hope that man chokes on his supper,” he grunts, staring at the ground and kicking up dirt.

 

“Ahh!” a girl screams. He jumps, mildly startled. “Excuse me, but would you mind not dirtying my dress! Are you some sort of child playing--oh!”

 

Oh no.

 

Seulong pauses. Panic building at the pit of his stomach when he recognizes the woman. The Princess’ lady-in-waiting. What was her name again? Jane? Joan? J-something?

 

“You’re one of Lord Kang’s friends, aren’t you?” she asks.

 

Yes, but one good look at your face and mine--it’s enough to pique a person’s curiosity.

 

And Seulong reflexively brings a hand up, covering his mouth and nose, hoping she hadn’t noticed any similarities. When did she see them together? He’d only spoken to Seulgi a handful of times in public and it was usually in areas teeming with people. Was she spying on them? Could they have somehow drawn suspicion?

 

No, from what Seulgi would report every day, things seemed to be going fine. Seulong shakes his head and bows.

 

“I’m sorry, my lady, but you m-must be mistaken.”

 

“Hmm, no, I don’t think I am--”

 

“Apologies but I must return to work,” Seulong immediately cuts her off, turns on his heel, and walks as fast as he possibly can. Quickly diving into a crowd, so that even if she did attempt to follow, he’d soon be lost to her.

 

Don’t look back. Keep walking.

 

He ignores the erratic beating in his chest, heart threatening to leap out. Seulgi was right, he hasn’t been cautious enough.

 

//

 

At a little corner of the field, right at the outskirts farthest from the capital’s gates, targets and dummies are set up past the low wooden fences leading into the nearby woods beside the outer meadow. Scarecrow-like figures are scattered about. Planks of wood hang on the branches of the occasional trees much farther in the back. Red and white bullseyes are sloppily painted on each of one of them, but they’re sufficient enough. At the fences, numerous bows, quivers, and arrows decorate the bottom. Ready for use. And to Seulgi’s surprise, quite a number of lords have gathered to compete. At the same time, curious passersby stop on sight and slowly begin to gather.

 

She puts one foot forward, contemplating. Not because of fear or futility. No, this isn’t a question of skill because there’s not a doubt in her mind that she can out shoot over half of the current participants lining up. Maybe even all of them.

 

Dwelling in that thought, a familiar thrill runs down from her veins to her fingertips and they twitch in excitement. That feeling, bowstring drawn back, secure between her fingers. The counts of her heartbeat as she finally lets an arrow fly loose. And the utter satisfaction when she hits her mark.

 

Yes, Seulgi’s almost certain she’d come out on top.

 

But that’s the problem. She’s not Seulgi--not right now anyway.

 

Seulong using a bow and arrow is like an infant trying to read a book.

 

Impossible.

 

For some unfathomable reason, he was completely uncoordinated and hopeless to become any sort of good shot. And when Seulgi says hopeless, she means hopeless. No matter how many lessons over how many years, her brother has never hit a target more than five feet in front of him. And even at that close of a distance, it always took him more than ten tries to hit the bullseye.

 

So if Seulgi was to participate and not only win, but excel--just as she absolutely would--well, it could set up an expectation for Seulong that would spell trouble. Of course, there’s the option of holding back and pretending but simply the thought of it has Seulgi twisting in disgust.

 

At least with her sword duel, Seulgi fared reasonably fine. In the future, when they see Seulong’s skills, one could reason that he'd been practicing and honing his abilities and that would be that.

 

Seulgi sighs, retracting her foot and crossing her arms as she remains in the same spot, deciding that even if she shouldn’t compete, she’d at least stay and watch.

 

--

 

The first round just finished and they were much more terrible than she predicted they’d be. About a sorry handful of them seemed to be decent, which was disappointing all the same. And to be frank, only three out of the pack stood out to Seulgi.

 

First was Lord Minho who was, in her opinion, moderately skilled… Actually, a little less than that but definitely better than the rest. If she’s remembering correctly, he managed to hit his targets about more than half of the time. Though most of those shots barely found the target, landing along the outskirts of the red and white paint.

 

At least they hit.

 

Next was actually Johnny, who she was initially surprised to see competing. Based on appearances, Seulgi didn’t peg him as an archer. And his skills didn’t completely convince her otherwise. Nearly all of his arrows whistled through the air, finding nothing. But when they did land, it was always near the center of the target. Lucky, is all Seulgi can think.

 

Extremely and consistently lucky.

 

And perhaps Johnny was greatly aware of that as he smiled and waved, charming the crowd for every point recorded under his name.

 

The third--she sighs, resisting the small bit of anger beginning to swell deep in her chest. She hates to admit it but the best shot, much to her chagrin, was Lord Woojin.

 

That insufferable brute.

 

The difference in skill between him and the rest was extremely apparent. Most of his arrows found purchase onto some dummy or wooden board, striking just centimeters from dead center all the time. Rather remarkable accuracy, especially in contrast to the others. And it irritated Seulgi as she watched him smirk after every shot. The points racking up in his favor and demolishing his competitor. The man was both arrogant and insufferable. Not only that, but Seulgi could’ve sworn that he glared in her direction on occasion.

 

Hopefully that was just her imagination.

 

Seulgi glances at the scoreboard and the winner is practically all but decided. Lord Woojin was leagues ahead and from her observations, there was no hope of catching up for anyone. Personally, she finds a second round pointless. Better to save everyone some time and call the competition done here. But of course, for the sake of entertainment, that won’t happen--

 

Seulgi stiffens. In the corner of her eye, she notices him approaching. Of all the things that man can be doing during the break, why does he have to come over and bother her?

 

“You decided to sit it out this time, Lord Kang?” Lord Woojin sneers as he stops beside her, a little too close for her liking, and then crosses his arms. “Probably smart of you to do that. Don’t want to strain those arms of yours,” he says, leaning down and practically hissing in her ear.

 

Seulgi plants her feet, determined and unmoving. Face unreadable as she’s well aware of his attempts in provoking her. And though her blood boiled from their last encounter, she doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. But oh, how she’d love to smack him across the face, annoying smirk and all.

 

It’s then that Seulgi notices that those around her begin to disperse, leaving them in private. Eyes shifting back and forth from Lord Woojin to her and then away. Their sudden murmurs grow faint as they leave them alone.

 

Clearly, they didn’t like Lord Woojin much either. That or the giant man was simply too intimidating and troublesome to be anywhere near or involved with. It has to be more of the latter.

 

“Shouldn’t you keep your focus on the competition, Lord Woojin?” Seulgi says, focusing her gaze farther into the forest, past all the dummies and targets. Looking at him would only serve to irritate her further.

 

He laughs, loud and obnoxious, garnering an increase of side glances and worried looks. God, Seulgi wishes the second round would just start already. She pleads in her mind that they pry this man’s attention away from her.

 

Finally, after what feels like forever, Lord Woojin’s laughter dies out. He scoffs, “And what competition would that be?!”

 

With no retort, Seulgi grimaces. He’s right, after all.

 

“You should’ve run home already like I told you, Graceless Bear. It really is pointless of you to stay here any longer, you know. You’ve long ran out of luck.”

 

Now, Seulgi doesn’t really mind the nickname. It was a bit confusing at first why people were calling her that until Johnny was kind enough to explain it. Yet even after that, she still didn’t mind. But hearing Lord Woojin say it, syllables laced in malice and hissing through his teeth--she hates it.

 

Composure. She reminds herself.

 

“Lord Woojin, you seem quite adamant in sending me home,” she starts, stealing a quick glance at him, trying to gauge how his reaction may play out. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re actually threatened--”

 

“Threatened?!” he immediately cuts her off and she nearly jumps from his thunderous outburst. She can feel it, his eyes looking down at her angrily. Prodding her. Drilling through her skull. This man has to be crazy. She hasn’t done a single thing to him and yet, he seemingly hates her. Somehow for some reason, he just does.

 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he hisses, leaning down again. Closer this time. Seulgi keeps her eyes forward, still in the distant trees. His hot breath bounces off her cheek as he sneers in heated whispers. “You’re a weakling that has no place here and every time I look at you, I can’t help but think how pathetic you are. From the very moment this all began, when you stumbled into the Opening Ceremony like some sloppy fool straight from the streets, you’ve irked me ever since.”

 

Around them, people flash looks of concern for a brief moment but then promptly brush them off. Quick to pretend they’d heard and seen nothing, returning to their little conversations that looked little more than fake chatterings.

 

It’s not the first time they witnessed a scene like this.

 

They’re afraid of him.

 

Seulgi takes in a breath, keeping her cool and ignoring the storm brewing inside of her. He’s bigger than her. Stronger than her. These reminders urge her to be careful with her words but she’s confident he won’t attack her even if she was to enrage him. Not in front of all these people. At bare minimum, he’d at least restrain himself that much.

 

Then, against her better judgment, that certainty encourages her. Stirring the fire within as it flickers and grows. Flames and compelling her to bite back.

 

“And? That sounds like a personal issue. I really don’t care for any frustrations you have against me. To be honest, I don’t care for any of the opinions you or anyone else has,” she turns towards him, finally meeting his eyes, realizing just how close he is as he stares down at her, barely centimeters apart. “So feel free to continue wasting your breath. The only person that matters is the Princess.”

 

He smirks menacingly. The left corner of his lip twisting upwards as his dark eyes gleam.

 

Wild.

 

Dangerous.

 

“Ah, the Princess. Yes,” he says a little too cooly and quietly. Starkly contrasting his previous behavior. “It baffles me how you think you have any right to be here. Even more so that you even believe you have a chance with the Princess.”

 

“I was given an invitation just like you.”

 

“A simple courtesy,” he says through clenched teeth. “You’d be a fool to believe you’re on equal level with the rest of us. Lord of the Bearclaw Isles--a minor lord at best. I was being kind telling you to go home because frankly, you’re wasting your time. You came here to win the Princess’ heart with what?” He laughs bitterly. “What skills do you possess that she could possibly favor? You’re quick, I’ll give you that, but you’re weak. You’re small. If I didn’t know any better, you’re hardly a lord at all. So why don’t you just go back to your poor pathetic isles? That lordship of yours is barely worth anything anyway from what I’ve researched. Makes me wonder if the folk there are as pitiful as the man who rules them. But what am I saying? Of course they are,” Lord Woojin jeers and then, very slowly, emphasizing each word, says, “A waste of land. A waste of people. All worthless, just like you.”

 

She’s not one to anger so easily. Nor is she one to simply throw away all sense and self-control in favor of her emotions. Harsh and venomous words roll off her back with no effect. Hateful glances are easy enough to ignore and forget. And most provocations are ultimately useless on her. But only when the target is her. Because if the victim is someone or something near and dear to Seulgi, that is an entirely different situation.

 

Her nails dig deep into the sleeves of her tunic. Teeth clenching so hard she can feel the tension in her neck and jaw. Rapidly, cracks spiderweb through her mask of composure and it begins to fall apart.

 

All the while, Lord Woojin simply looks at her with an expectant grin across his face, waiting. He knows what he said. It was, without a doubt, deliberate. Another attempt to get under her skin.

 

Push her.

 

Provoke her.

 

Well, he finally did it.

 

“What? Nothing to say? It’s hard to dispute such truths, isn’t--”

 

Without a word, Seulgi shoves past him, picking up a bow and a quiver of arrows as she walks towards the fence. She stands ready, facing the targets then glares back at him, seething deep within. Knuckles going white from the death grip she has on her bow, desperate to keep herself from shaking.

 

Lord Woojin follows excitedly, doing the same and taking position on the opposite side of her.

 

This is exactly what he wanted.

 

A challenge, some informal duel to humiliate her and break her spirits. All the hate, hot air, and instigating. Fine, she’ll give him what he wants.

 

“Finally, some backbone,” he shouts to her, visibly pleased. "So, how should we do this.”

 

Behind them, the crowd and competitors gather closer after taking notice, tightening the circle around them, confused as to what was going on. The judge calls out asking for an explanation but his request falls on deaf ears.

 

“First one to hit twenty targets,” Seulgi declares, slinging the quiver’s strap over her head.

 

“Perfect,” Lord Woojin quickly agrees as he lazily hangs his quiver on his shoulder. He narrows his gaze at her, looking all too satisfied. “But let’s up the ante. If I win, you drop from this little game of suitors and spend the rest of your time catering to my every whim. And I mean every whim.”

 

Seulgi resists a scoff. Predictable.

 

“Fine. Then if I win--”

 

“If you win?” he laughs, eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. “There’s no--”

 

“If I win,” Seulgi continues, her voice sharp and cold, “I want you to grovel at my feet and apologize.”

 

Silence fills the distance between him as he holds her stare. All that can be heard are the whispers of the crowd and the useless barkings of the judge. Lord Woojin didn’t like what she said. Not all. Though Seulgi knows that he firmly believes there’s no chance of her winning, the simple proposal--the audacity--insults him, sickening him to his very core. His malice is palpable and it radiates off of him in waves.

 

“Deal,” he finally agrees, practically spitting the word.

 

Lord Woojin turns, looking around at everyone.

 

“Did you hear all of that?!” he shouts, looking over the crowd before finally settling on the judge. They nod, confirming themselves as witnesses to the informal challenge and in turn, enforcers of the terms. “Well then, don’t just stand there!” he growls at the judge. “Give us the signal to start!”

 

In a panic, the judge situates himself on the side, close to the fence. He hesitantly raises his arms as his eyes dart back and forth between Seulgi and Lord Woojin, measuring them. They both nod, ready.

 

Seulgi pulls an arrow from her quiver, placing it in the bowstring, and breathes. Opposite of her, Lord Woojin follows suit, though his manner is crass with no regard for how roughly he grabs and sets his arrow. He his head, side-eyeing her with that ever-present arrogance.

 

“You’ll make a better servant than a lord.”

 

The judge calls out for attention, glancing the two of them over once more, and then drops his arm giving the signal to begin.

 

In an instant, Seulgi lets her first arrow loose. A clean shot to the farthest target painted on a tree in the distance. It strikes true, piercing the direct center of the bullseye. Noise buzzes around her, whether they be awes of the crowd or curses from Lord Woojin, she doesn’t know. Her surroundings are simple faraway muffles to her ears.

 

Unimportant.

 

Out of focus.

 

She takes in another deep breath, eyes honing in on a dummy to the right of her. Slightly closer than the tree before. Familiarity flows through her, a tempo she knows like no other. Swiftly, she places another arrow in the bowstring, pulls it back, and without hesitation, lets it go. All in one smooth motion.

 

Another direct hit.

 

Seulgi moves deftly. Take an arrow, set it in the bowstring, draw it back, loose. A handful of heartbeats for one shot. She lets the rhythm of it consume her, submerging herself in concentration. It’s a storm of precision. One after another, her arrows whistle through the air ending in satisfying thuds as they land dead center every time without fail.

 

Time seems to have barely passed and already, she’s scored ten targets.

 

She spares a glance beside her to check on Lord Woojin who seems to have fallen frantic. Struggling and cursing as he drops a few arrows out of his quiver while fishing for just one. On his side beyond the fences, the man’s only hit about four targets. All of them a varying distance from the center of their targets but without a doubt, worse than any of his shots in the previous round.

 

He’s rattled. Good.

 

But it’s not enough. Not when she feels her jaw tense again. His words echo in her head and the brief recollection brings her blood to a boil. Anger rising in her like a tide, urging her. Seulgi’s fingers twitch, itching for her arrow and bowstring. She readies her shot.

 

Her eyes focus, watching as Lord Woojin finally prepares to shoot. She follows his gaze to a dummy a few meters directly in front of him. And just as he’s about ready to let his arrow go, Seulgi exhales and lets hers loose. The arrow zips through the air and with expected success, hits the dummy’s target straight in the middle, protruding diagonally outward, fletching pointing in her direction. A second later, Lord Woojin’s arrow lands on the same target, hitting the outskirts.

 

Immediately, Lord Woojin whips his head to look at her. Eyes wide and crazed. Unmistakable rage stirring within him. He curses and growls, hurriedly going for another target.

 

And Seulgi follows, watching intently.

 

Once again, just as he’s about ready to shoot, Seulgi does so first. Stealing his mark with deadly precision and speed.

 

Again.

 

And again.

 

And again.

 

Relentless.

 

Until the rhythm finally stops.

 

“T-This match is concluded!” The judge interrupts, raising his hands and his eyes shift back and forth in disbelief. “The score is t-twenty to four. Lord K-Kang is the winner!”

 

Slowly, the crowd and the other lords watching stir from their daze. One by one they begin to applaud, unsure of what just transpired as they murmur among themselves. Seulgi lowers her bow and uses her free hand to wipe a trailing bead of sweat near her temple. It’s been weeks since she’s handled a bow. Their match wasn’t anything like a hunt with the excitement of silent pursuit and expert execution but the thrill came all the same, pulsing through her. Everything came rushing back. And the humiliation she served Lord Woojin was as satisfying as any successful hunt.

 

“You!” Lord Woojin roars on the other side of her, throwing his bow and quiver down, arrows scattering in a mess.

 

The crowd hushes and Seulgi narrows her eyes at him, noticing the veins bulging at the sides of his forehead. His face full-blown red in rage. Instinctively, her fingers tighten around her bow.

 

“You’ve got a lot of gall trying to make a fool out of me!”

 

He stomps forward, fists curled tight at his sides. The tension in his shoulders and the fury behind his eyes sound off alarms in her head. Before he can take another step, Seulgi shoots an arrow exactly where his next step would’ve been, mere centimeters from his lifted boot.

 

If she wanted to--if she had no self-restraint--she would’ve aimed true and pierced his foot. And oh, how she wanted to.

 

Lord Woojin pauses, gaping at the arrow and then at her. “You--”

 

“As you said before, I’m quick,” Seulgi taunts, nocking another arrow.

 

--

 

Irene and Joy, with a handful of guards trailing behind them, stroll past a number of contests. Briefly eyeing them before continuing on. The Princess nods to the occasional few who notice her passing when they abruptly bow their heads in respect.

 

“Can’t decide on what to watch next?” Joy inquires, smiling.

 

“I suppose you can say that,” Irene hums.

 

More like she didn’t want to watch anything anymore as she’s had her fill for the day. Actually, she’s had more than her fill of The Games entirely, truth be told. She takes in a deep breath, ignoring the burning soles of her feet and the aching in her calves. Only a few hours more, she tells herself. Then Irene can retire to her bed to enjoy her blissful sleep.

 

“You’ve got a lot of gall trying to make a fool out of me!”

 

Irene’s attention snaps to the direction of the loud outcry. Her brows furrow worriedly. Taking initiative, Joy comes up beside her after questioning a nearby commoner, her expression uncharacteristically serious.

 

“It seems there’s a bit of trouble at the archery grounds, Your Highness.”

 

The lady-in-waiting waves for her to follow, urgency in her quick strides. Irene hastily catches up, raising an inquisitive brow as she matches Joy’s speed. Her guards scramble to either side of her, providing . And as if reading her thoughts, the latter explains concisely, “Lord Woojin is being especially unruly today. Specifically to a certain someone.”

 

--

 

He grins at her. The right corner of his lip twitching. His animosity ading the atmosphere. At this moment, Lord Woojin looks less like a man and more like a wild animal ready to charge and tear her apart with his bare hands.

 

Seulgi takes no chances and steadies her breath, aiming at his thigh.

 

“Lord Woojin! Lord Kang! Enough!”

 

She blinks, snapping out of focus. Seulgi glances between the parting audience and Lord Woojin. Careful not to completely let her guard down. The man does the same, though he still seems to be mainly fixated on her.

 

And to everyone’s surprise, emerging from the crowd is the Princess herself. Immediately, both Seulgi and Lord Woojin fall to one knee, bowing at her approach.

 

“Princess,” they say on beat, flashing a glare at each other as they keep their heads down.

 

The clanking of iron plate armor grows louder and encircles them as the Royal Guard takes position on all sides. Neither Seulgi or Lord Woojin dare to lift their head. And before them, as far as their eyes can see without budging, the hem of a deep maroon dress embroidered with gold comes into view.

 

“These contests are supposed to be fun and healthy competition, not a deathmatch,” The Princess emphasizes.

 

Seulgi keeps her eyes downcast, feeling briefly regretful that she didn’t lower her bow sooner or at least drop it the second Princess Irene came into view. A mistake on her part. Although, she doesn’t feel completely remorseful. It was an arrow pointed at Lord Woojin of all people. And his thigh too. He would’ve been wounded, yes, but he also would’ve survived.

 

Seulgi is the first to respond.

 

“My deepest apologies, Princess.”

 

“My apologies as well, Your Highness,” Lord Woojin says, sounding convincingly sincere, which Seulgi attributes to his somewhat mischievous and deceitful personality.

 

There’s a brief pause and it seems that the Princess had waved the judge over as his feet came into Seulgi’s view.

 

“What were the terms?” she asks. “I was informed that this was a challenge of some sorts between them. I will personally see to it that it is followed through.”

 

“Yes, of course, Your Highness,” the judge replies, appearing to have lost his stutter. Perhaps due to the presence of royalty or more likely the sight of Lord Woojin subdued. “The agreement was that the first to hit twenty targets using a bow and arrow would be the victor. That ended up being Lord Kang, scoring twenty to Lord Woojin’s four. And he requested that, upon his victory, Lord Woojin grovel at his feet and apologize.”

 

“Oh, and if Lord Woojin had won? What did he propose?” The Princess further questions with slight intrigue.

 

“Lord Woojin wanted Lord Kang to forfeit as an eligible suitor and instead, spend the rest of the festival catering to his every whim.”

 

A heavy sigh reaches Seulgi’s ears as well as a stifled giggle from the Princess’ lady-in-waiting. No doubt the Princess thinks the whole thing ridiculous. And Seulgi agrees. It is. But after everything Lord Woojin said, tacked together with his endless and juvenile provocations, she had to retaliate somehow. Put him in his place even if it was through immature means and a childish deal.

 

“Rise, both of you.”

 

The two stand, brushing the dirt from their trousers and then, almost instantly, glare at one another. Like a reflex. Uncontrollable.

 

“Lord Woojin,” Princess Irene starts, “I believe you have some groveling to do. So let’s get this over with and go on with the rest of our day.”

 

The man slightly opens his mouth, failing to speak. His face contorts unpleasantly and he does his best to repress the reaction, clearly failing in his efforts; the sheer visceral response too strong to contain.

 

Lord Woojin takes a step forward, arms out as if pleading. “Your Highness, if I may--”

 

All it takes is the slight tilt of the head and a pointed look from Princess Irene to cut him off. Beside her, her lady-in-waiting grins from ear to ear with a glint in her eyes making her look impish. Almost amused in some way. “Surely you’re not attempting to make excuses before the Princess?”

 

Whatever Lord Woojin was prepared to say, he had given up. Swallowing those words back and shaking his head, he takes a few steps closer to Seulgi. Then when he reaches her, he holds her gaze, hesitating. She knows. She can see it. The utter loathing behind the stonewall expression he’s forcing. If he didn’t hate her enough before, he surely hated her to oblivion now.

 

He falls on both hands and knees, prostrating before her. Looking closely, she can see him shaking,

 

“Forgive me, Lord Kang, for my… transgressions against you,” Lord Woojin pauses, fighting to keep his voice even. The words at times sounding strained through clenched teeth. “It was highly inappropriate and unbecoming of my position. It won’t happen again. Both my temper and my tongue are sometimes prone to be… unmanageable. But I vow to better myself in that regard. So I hope you can accept this apology.”

 

“No,” Seulgi says, earning confused looks not only from the crowd but the Princess as well. “You’re missing the most important thing.”

 

Lord Woojin’s body stiffens.

 

“A-And that would be?” he struggles to ask.

 

Seulgi crosses her arms.

 

“The insults against my home and my people. I don’t care for any of the slights you made against me. That’s not why I challenged you in the first place. It’s what you said about them,” Seulgi explains, drawing a sharp breath after what’s barrelled past her lips. Suddenly, she’s burning inside once more and it takes a few heartbeats to collect herself. “That, I will not tolerate and therefore, your current apology means absolutely nothing to me.”

 

Silence lingers and not a single soul denies her reasoning. They’d be a fool if they did. For it’s simple decency and respect that Lord Woojin’s violated.

 

They wait, their stares weighing heavily on the man facedown. And Seulgi catches a glimpse of the Princess studying her, if only for a brief moment.

 

“I see,” Lord Woojin says, dragging that last syllable out a little too long. “Then allow me to correct myself.” His back rises from a deep inhale of breath. Body shuddering in defiance. “I am sorry for the unkind things I said. As I already stated, I sometimes lose myself. But I assure you, everything I said was in the heat of the moment. Hot air as they say.” He stops for a few seconds, the bile in his voice becoming too apparent. Slowly, he continues, “I, of course, could never truly think so lowly of your land and citizens. Nevertheless, I apologize for crossing that line. Do you… accept this apology?”

 

No.

 

Apology? It’s a bogus and superficial string of sentences devoid of any earnestness. A flimsy performance that has Seulgi scowling. He didn’t mean a single word. Not all. But had she honestly expected anything more of him? Maybe the better part of her--the more naive side did. Always a little too kind and a little too willing to give second chances.

 

Seulgi gives a small nod and then averts her eyes, accepting his apology, though only for the sake of ending this charade. His humiliation was what she truly wanted anyway.

 

“You may rise, Lord Woojin,” the Princess declares, eyeing Seulgi once again for a bit. Then she turns, raising her voice to address the crowd. “Let the contest resume and remember to keep all playful and provoking banter to a minimum. I’d rather not have a repeat of what transpired here, as I’m sure everyone will agree.”

 

The people begin to shift with contestants returning to the field for the second round. Although their mutterings as they pass by suggest they’ve given up, for Seulgi’s made it quite evident--when it comes to a bow and arrow, she’s the best one here.

 

Lord Woojin stands and leaves, shoving some people and stomping off to who knows where, plainly displeased. Seulgi certainly doesn’t care. Actually, she doesn’t care for much of anything at all right now. Feeling utterly drained, she departs, weaving her way through the crowd, ignoring the stalking stares and whispers.

 

//

 

In the meadow, just outside the vicinity of The Games, Seulgi sits there alone. Breathing in the grass, feeling the dirt between her fingers. Nostalgia hits like a wave and she falls back to lie down, staring up at the sky. Possibly the only real thing her home and the capital share.

 

Who knew it’d be so different here?

 

The ostentatious displays. The rude and conniving lords, some more vile than others. Its restless atmosphere encompassing everything, endlessly pulling people along to and fro. Their voices are a constant music that fills the air. Both day and night, it’s a sleepless body with no breath of calm and silence is a rare treasure found.

 

A rare treasure that is much more common on her Isles with its tranquil forests that can be seen for miles and miles. Inside, there’s peace all around. Even on the shores, where the waves crash against cliffs, rocks, and sand. These things were always so close, just a simple walk beyond her castle’s walls.

 

But here, laying in the outskirts of the capital’s fields, though she may be a distance from the kingdom’s walls, whether The Games were taking place or not, the quiet is delicate and barely present.

 

Seulgi closes her eyes, unable to keep them open as the fatigue settles, heavier and heavier. And she tunes out the noise as her mind wanders, pondering on her brother. What he might be doing. Where he’s strolling about--ideally, keeping out of trouble, she hopes. And she further mulls over the mess they’ve put themselves in.

 

This battle of suitors. With everything she’s seen and learned about the others, how is she supposed to come out on top? Honestly, she’s beginning to think it impossible or at the very least, incredibly improbable. But she did tell her brother she’d try her best--a promise she intends to keep.

 

A slight breeze rolls by and she begins to drift in and out of consciousness.

 

Well, in the likelihood that the Princess doesn’t choose her, Seulgi prays that her future husband isn’t Lord Woojin. Not only would he make a terrible king and second half to the Princess but, knowing very little of what she knows, Seulgi can say that Princess Irene definitely deserves someone better. Someone more.

 

The nearby crowds bellow loudly, reeling her back to reality. Her brows furrow as she concentrates on the stillness of the meadows, daydreaming of home. Wishing to have some of the calm and silence of the Isles.

 

Just a little bit for a little while.

 

//

 

“Wouldn’t you rather rest in one of the tents?” Joy asks, speaking more casually as they stroll alone.

 

Irene spares a quick glance to her Royal Guard, who is trailing much farther behind, following at about twenty paces away. Not for lack of duty or diligence but because she had ordered it. Her constant moving during this week, through literally seas of people, warranted higher security. A closer watch on her person in case something were to happen. As they say, you never know. And although she understands and is in complete agreement of their overprotection, it has been positively suffocating.

 

“I’ll just be pestered again if I do that. Do you know how many fathers have approached me these past few days simply to sing praises of their sons?”

 

Joy hums in thought, briefly looking past the low fences bordering the fields. “I imagine quite a few.”

 

“‘Few’ is a vast understatement,” Irene scoffs. “To be honest, I’ve lost count at this point. If I walk around it’s at least more difficult for them to conjure up some convenient excuse to start a conversation.” She studies the nearest contest. Their cheers barely within earshot. “Especially out here.”

 

“I don’t know. These people seem quite talented in that regard. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of those fathers ambushed us right here, ready to blather our ears off,” Joy says, her lips twisting into a sly grin.

 

“If I didn’t know any better, it sounds like you want that to happen.” A small scowl finds its way to the Princess’ face. “Do you enjoy my misery that much?”

 

And without missing a beat, Joy flashes a broad smile, injecting a little more hop into her step.

 

“Oh, yes--thoroughly. It’s one of my favorite things.”

 

A small grunt escapes Irene and she rolls her eyes. It’s a typical Joy answer for typical Joy behavior. Always entertained and consistently finding amusement at her expense. A trait existing since childhood and one that Irene is very accustomed to.

 

“You’re absurd sometimes.”

 

“Lucky for you it’s not all the time.”

 

“I would’ve replaced you long ago if that were the case,” the Princess huffs.

 

“That easily?” Joy asks, leaning forward as she cranes her head to examine Irene’s face. Big round eyes staring back at the latter, fully accompanied with a small pout.

 

Irene can’t help but turn away, frustrated at how easily she’s toyed with by her friend. Her cheeks flush slightly as she’s unable to sound convincing when she mumbles, “Perhaps.”

 

“I didn’t think so,” Joy giggles, without a doubt, pleased with herself. Then she suddenly stops and points past the fences. “What is that?”

 

The Princess halts, squinting in the same direction.

 

There, in the meadows, was a man laying on the ground.

 

--

 

There are voices. Muffled but near.

 

Slowly, they’re tugging her from slumber.

 

Seulgi fights against the sleepy haze.

 

“Looks like he fell asleep.”

 

“Out here? Well, he is the Graceless Bear. I suppose a bear would find this spot appealing for a nap.”

 

Two people. They sound familiar to Seulgi but her mind is foggy and they’re hard to place.

 

“Don’t call him that.”

 

“Too mean? You must admit, there’s some truth to the nickname. I personally find that it’s also rather cute.”

 

“Please, you know I detest such things. It’s childish and the other lords use it demeaningly. Such antics are--what? Why are you smiling like that? Just hurry and wake him up already, Joy! Who knows how long he’s been there.”

 

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

 

Your Highness?

 

Clarity hits her like a bull and Seulgi nearly jumps awake in panic but a sudden hand on her shoulder causes her to freeze. The tips of stray locks of hair tickle her face as she’s being gently shaken, grass beneath her rustling along with the motion.

 

“Lord Kang? Oh, Lord Kang. Wake up,” the voice, who Seulgi assumes is Joy, coos.

 

She pretends to slowly stir from her nap. Her gut telling her that the earlier conversation was meant to be private no matter how insignificant it had been. She was the subject matter, after all. So she takes her time, furrowing her brows and turning her head as if she’s reluctantly being plucked from a dream.

 

“He’s not waking fast enough, Your Highness. Perhaps I should kiss him awake like those fairytales--”

 

Seulgi jolts upright, nearly colliding into Joy. Surprisingly, the latter has some quick reflexes as she pulls her head back in time to avoid injury. Chest heaving in slight panic, Seulgi turns to see the lady-in-waiting smiling cheekily at her. “Good afternoon, my lord. Did you have a pleasant rest?”

 

Behind Joy is the Princess, raising a questioning brow.

 

Scrambling to her feet, Seulgi dusts her trousers of dirt and grass, and fully bows. For a split second, she wonders how disheveled she looks or if there’s any dried drool on her face as it’s happened to her on many occasions back home. In her mind, she prays that her appearance isn’t a complete mess right now.

 

“Your Highness, forgive me for my uh…” Seulgi trails off, unsure of what to say, simply that the Princess seemed to demand an answer and she was all too hasty to utter something.

 

“Calm yourself, Lord Kang,” Princess Irene says, gesturing for her to stand upright. Between them, Joy stifles a chuckle as she returns to her lady’s side, placing herself a step behind the Princess. “You’re not in trouble for getting some rest. I just find this a peculiar spot to do so. You have accommodations, don’t you?”

 

A bit of heat rushes to her face and Seulgi scratches her cheek, somewhat embarrassed.

 

“Yes, at one of the inns near the west gate.”

 

“So why didn’t you retire there?” the Princess inquires, sounding more--how would Seulgi describe it--relaxed than usual? Although ‘usual’ was defined by Seulgi’s very limited encounters with Her Highness. “Unless, you actually collapsed here earlier?”

 

Ah, not relaxed but concerned.

 

That’s what it is.

 

And Seulgi finds herself smiling at the Princess’ soft eyes. A side she has yet to see.

 

“No, it wasn’t that. This spot just reminded me of home a little bit. I often took naps outside on the Isles.”

 

Princess Irene tilts her head at the answer as she seems to scan Seulgi thoughtfully. The latter blinks, mildly confused and somewhat worried as well. Had she said something strange? Compelled to confirm, Seulgi opens when the Princess nods and unknowingly, cuts her off.

 

“I see. Well, my apologies for disturbing you then. I was worried that you might remain out here till evening so I ordered Joy to wake you.”

 

The last sentence gives Seulgi pause. Then, surprising both herself and the Princess, she ends up chuckling.

 

“Is something funny?” Princess Irene questions. Her usual cold, authoritative tone resurfacing.

 

Prompt to avoid any sort of misunderstanding, Seulgi shakes her head, waiting for the chuckles to subside. Ordinarily, she’d be more careful around the Princess. Keep her expressions and tone in check. But right now, it just doesn’t seem to matter to her. Is it the fatigue casting her inhibitions to the wind? Or is it this new, more inviting side of the Princess that’s the cause? Regardless, Seulgi embraces it.

 

She clears , grinning widely at some memories. “Actually, your concern is very accurate. I probably would’ve slept here past nightfall. Believe it or not, it’s happened a number of times to me before.”

 

The Princess scowls and that same face from before, soft and transparent concern, returns.

 

“That’s rather careless,” she says, reminiscent of a parent scolding their child out of worry.

 

And to be honest, Seulgi finds it rather cute in a way. Maybe it’s the contrast that’s so appealing.

 

“I agree,” Seulgi laughs again. Her eyes turning into crescents. “So thank you.”

 

For some reason, the Princess quickly turns her head away and in an instant, her lady-in-waiting leaps forward, sweeping Seulgi’s hands into her own. The latter nearly jumps back in shock but quickly collects herself. Joy’s unexpectedly strong grip also helps to keep her in place.

 

“Lord Kang, might you have any immediate plans?” she asks with a mysterious sparkle in her eyes.

 

Seulgi’s instincts kick in and she hesitates, regarding Joy with suspicious eyes. It’s a bit of an overreaction, she admits, but there’s this aura about the girl that Seulgi finds difficult to simply dismiss. A feeling she can’t quite put her finger on. One that feels like trouble looming.

 

Seulgi finally shakes her head in response and Joy is positively filled with glee.

 

“Perfect! Then why don’t you join Her Highness on her walk?!”

 

“What?” Seulgi and Princess Irene exclaim in unison, their eyes meeting.

 

Within a split second, Joy’s smile warps into a frown as she retracts her hands, folding them in front of her. Dismayed as she scrutinizes Seulgi. “Oh, I didn’t know you were so opposed to the idea, Lord Kang.”

 

Seulgi steps forward as she sputters, “I never said that--”

 

“The expression on your face is telling enough, my lord,” Joy says, rapidly cutting her off.

 

And Seulgi can sense it, like daggers poking at her side. The Princess’ eyes are narrowed at her. Lips pressed into a thin line.

 

“True. The idea seems to be rather displeasing to you,” Princess Irene scoffs. The edge in her voice sharp enough to cut.

 

Trouble looming indeed.

 

“N-No! Of course it isn’t! I’d love to accompany you, Your Highness!” Seulgi bows, frantically trying to recover the situation.

 

Her answer is a single huff and Seulgi looks up to see the Princess resuming her walk on the trail along the meadow by herself. Joy strides by Seulgi, passing her a low whisper before following after Her Highness.

 

“Better keep up.”

 

--

 

It’s a narrow dirt path unoccupied save for them. Them being the Princess and Seulgi side by side as the latter matches the Princess’ hurried pace. Behind them, a few feet away, is Joy and the Royal Guard keeping their distance but vigilantly watching. Their eyes like needles pricking her back.

 

Eventually, the minutes of silence between them are starting to kill her. Seulgi’s eyes carefully wander, sneaking a glance at Her Highness’ face, scanning her porcelain frame and thankfully, she’s no longer glowering.

 

A good sign.

 

Encouraged, Seulgi swallows her bit of nerves and asks, “So, um, have you been enjoying yourself, Princess? Watching The Games, I mean.”

 

“To an average degree, yes,” Princess Irene curtly replies, her attention ever-forward.

 

It’s less of a response than what Seulgi was hoping for but at the very least, the Princess wasn’t sulking anymore. That had been wholly unexpected.

 

Elegant, forthright, perceptive, and somewhat critical--if Seulgi’s being honest--are the first things that come to mind when describing Princess Irene in the small span of time she’s gotten to know her. But never would she have pegged the Princess to be the pouty type. Almost childish in a way. An aspect of her person that Seulgi finds herself curious to see more of.

 

“And what about you, Lord Kang?” the Princess follows up, snapping Seulgi out of her thoughts.

 

“Me?” she blinks and then rubs the back of her neck, “I’m beyond exhausted.”

 

“That’s very honest of you.”

 

True, but Seulgi can’t seem to care much right now for being overly polite and conscientious of everything she says. Inhibitions tossed and forgotten, all filtering dissipates.

 

“I don’t think there’s any point hiding it, especially since you found me in the middle of a nap on the ground,” Seulgi sheepishly laughs as she adjusts the belt of her tunic, realizing it was misaligned.

 

“Fair enough,” Princess Irene nods in agreement. “These events can indeed be quite tiring.”

 

To the left of them, several meters away, resounding cheers catch the Princess’ attention and she turns to look. Her eyes linger upon the scene with evident interest, watching for a few moments all while maintaining her poise with ease. That doesn’t stop Seulgi from being watchful though, as she notices the numerous stray pebbles and rocks on the path. Potential hazards that the Princess can trip on. Seulgi’s eyes dart back and forth from the Princess’ next step to her gaze still fixated to the nearest crowd. They cheer again, louder this time as they pump their fists in the air, titillated.

 

“Do you have many festivities like this back home, Lord Kang?”

 

Seulgi her head to the side at the sudden question. She mulls it over for a few seconds and then shakes her head at the end of her contemplation.

 

“None as large as this. Not even close. We have small gatherings and feasts but those only last for a few hours. Anything spanning days or weeks is just too much. No offense, of course,” Seulgi makes sure to add, scratching her cheek. “It’s definitely a lot simpler at home compared to the capital.”

 

Finally, the Princess pries her eyes away from the crowd and then turns, staring at Seulgi.

 

“So then, do you envy any of this? All of this revelry?”

 

“Absolutely not,” Seulgi answers all too easily and a little too quickly.

 

Then it immediately hits her on the head that she may have been overly frank. She stops, moving to bow but the Princess interrupts her as she puts out her hand, gesturing for her to rise.

 

“You said nothing wrong,” she reassures. Entirely unbothered much to Seulgi’s surprise. “You have pride in your home and you prefer it there. It’s extremely obvious and I admire that sort of honest loyalty to one's home." Her Highness nods, giving a small smile and then continues to walk. “Even if your home is as you say, ‘simple’, I see no issue. Simplicity does have its own beauty and charms.”

 

For a second, Seulgi stands blinking in her stupor as the Princess pulls paces ahead of her.

 

Was that a compliment earlier?

 

She runs to catch up.

 

“I wholeheartedly agree, Your Highness,” Seulgi says, arriving back at the Princess’ side, brushing away a few locks of hair that had come loose from her hair tie.

 

“In my opinion, we could do with a little more ‘simple’ around here. Wouldn’t you say, Lord Kang?”

 

Before, Seulgi would’ve considered the question to be some kind of test. A trick statement hidden for her to uncover. Intentions that required deciphering or something. The antics of nobles and backhanded sentences, double-meanings and the like, were quite commonplace. Rarely being forthright and saying what you really meant. For some reason, they quite liked giving their opinion on things in a roundabout fashion.

 

This time though, it doesn’t seem to be the case. The Princess merely said what she wanted to. Nothing more, nothing less. And perhaps that’s in part due to exhaustion also taking its toll on the Princess as she seems to be much less… rigid? At least, when comparing their current conversation to all their previous ones.

 

But Seulgi must admit, part of her hopes she’s wrong. That it’s not fatigue easing the Princess’ walls down. That hopefully, it’s the growing familiarity between them.

 

And without sparing a second thought, she decides to believe in that.

 

“Seul,” Seulgi says aloud, earning a puzzled look from the Princess. “Please, call me Seul. It’s what my family and friends call me back home. Truth be told, Lord Kang just sounds so stiff to me.”

 

“It’s a title of respect to your position. Would you not rather be addressed as such?” the Princess asks, seemingly even more confused now.

 

“Sure, in perhaps more strict settings, diplomatic affairs and formal occasions. But when speaking like this,” Seulgi points her finger back and forth at the space between them, “you know, one-on-one with another person--kind of like a friend--I prefer to be, well… simple,” she smiles.

 

The effort is clumsy and her words, more or less, sloppily threaded together but it was nothing if not genuine. Once again, silence blankets them as Princess Irene becomes pensive, eyebrows knitting close together with the corners of lips turned slightly downwards. She had become unexpectedly serious. Either that or she’s extremely offended and at a loss for words.

 

“Unless,” Seulgi starts, searching the Princess’ face, “I’m being too forward? In which case, I’ll retract my suggestion and we can just forget I said--”

 

“No, it’s alright,” the Princess cuts her off, hesitant, “Seul.”

 

And although it seems a bit awkward for her to say, the sparkle in her eyes shows that she rather enjoys it.

 

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Seulgi grins.

 

“Irene,” the Princess corrects, smirking to herself. “What fun is it if I’m the only one who drops formalities?”

 

This time Seulgi’s the one who’s baffled as her attention flounders elsewhere. Her stare roams, uncertain. It’s one thing for the Princess to address her by name or for any other lord of equal standing to--like Johnny--but to have it the other way around, it just isn’t the same.

 

“I’m, uh, not sure if I’m comfortable with dropping formalities on my part.”

 

“Oh, so you would have me be the odd one alone? There’s no one here to admonish you. If you insist on speaking casually one-on-one, I would like that we do so equally.”

 

There it is again. That almost offended, sort of pouty tone in her voice from earlier. Seulgi glances behind her to see Joy smiling widely, almost knowingly, as the Royal Guard follows closely behind. Like a trap with no escape.

 

“Forgive me, Your Highness. I just--”

 

She catches the Princess glaring at her.

 

“It’s only the two of us and I already gave you permission. What’s the problem?”

 

Recognizing that it’s best to give in, Seulgi rubs the back of her neck and sighs, “I understand. Thank you, I-Irene.”

 

“Very good!” Her Highness laughs, easily appeased as she continues grinning to herself, reveling in her satisfaction. Though, perhaps she was reveling a bit too much as she seemed to be very, very amused.

 

Well, better than incurring the wrath of the Princess, Seulgi supposes.

 

“Now, Seul, there’s something I’ve been very curious about and wanting to ask.”

 

“And that is?” Seulgi arches a brow.

 

“Your gift, the journal you gave me. You mentioned that I appreciated books and the like, along with some flowery words that I’ll admit had me a bit charmed. So, how did you know?”

 

“Well I happened to wander into the library while I was looking around the castle and I got lost trying to find my way out. That’s when I came across the entrance to your private study. Don’t worry though, I didn’t go in. The bookkeeper stopped me. He told me you’re quite the avid reader.”

 

“Ah, of course it was him,” Irene says fondly, in a voice that’s little more than a whisper.

 

Looks like the old man did know the Princess as well as he seemed to. Seulgi remembers the warmth in the bookkeeper’s words from when he spoke of her, affection akin to a father’s. Next time she sees him, she’ll have to remember to thank him for his unexpectedly helpful insight.

 

“I was certainly amazed though,” Seulgi goes on, shoving her hands into the pockets of her trousers as a breeze blows by. “The library at our castle isn’t anywhere near as large. I’d never seen so many books in one place.”

 

“Do you like reading as well, Seul?!” Irene asks at the heels of Seulgi’s last word, eagerness overflowing.

 

“I want to say yes--”

 

“But then you’d be lying,” Irene finishes, instantly deflated.

 

“Yes, but lying with good intentions.”

 

“And what intentions are those?” Irene challenges with narrowed eyes.

 

“To charm you and indulge your interests,” Seulgi playfully shrugs and the answer has Irene rolling her eyes. “It’s plain to see that you love reading. And although, I can’t say that I read very much, I’m not completely lying when I say yes because I really do have an interest. Maybe you can offer me some recommendations, Irene,” Seulgi smiles.

 

“Maybe,” the Princess smirks back.

 

“Your Highness!”

 

The two of them stop and turn around to see Joy briskly walking over.

 

“I’m sorry to interrupt but it’s probably about time for Her Highness to return and watch the contests conclude for the day,” the lady-in-waiting bows and it’s then that Seulgi realizes just how low the sun had gotten, painting the sky slightly orange with its slow descent. No wonder it felt a bit chillier.

 

A noticeably long sigh escapes the Princess.

 

“It seems I’ll be taking my leave now. Thank you for accompanying me, Lord Kang,” the Princess smiles, addressing Seulgi by her title once again. Amusement plain on her face as if she were hiding a secret privy only to them.

 

And Joy glances back and forth between them.

 

“It was my pleasure, Your Highness,” Seulgi bows.

 

Then, without prolonging their farewells any more than necessary, the Princess moves towards the competition grounds heading for the nearest crowd in sight.

 

She always seems to be so prompt.

 

Her Royal Guard follows suit, including Joy, who takes the time to bow goodbye to Seulgi, winking just as she turns to leave. And Seulgi can’t begin to think of what it means or if it means anything at all, nor does she want to bother dwelling on it. For some reason, Seulgi can’t help but feel wary of the lady-in-waiting.

 

She remains where she stands, watching for a few seconds before taking a couple steps backwards to leave when the Princess stops.

 

“Take care returning to your room,” Princess Irene shouts without looking back. “And be sure not to fall asleep on the ground somewhere.”

 

Seulgi grins at the playful jab and nods her head, “I’ll do my best, Princess!”

 

//

 

Irene lies awake in her bed. Snuggled beneath her snow-white sheets, she turns on her side to look out the window, staring at the pale moonlight shining through.

 

The Games were finally over, much to her relief. She hadn’t expected the past week to be as exhausting as it was. It was expected for the participants, but for her? Well, she thought she’d just be enjoying the view. Casually going from one contest to the next. But of course, many decided to take advantage of her ‘free’ time as a means to propose numerous persuasive arguments. All to convince her that Lord So-And-So was the one and that she’d be hard pressed to find anyone better. Unfortunately for them, their pleas fell on deaf ears as Irene isn’t susceptible to such things.

 

Wasted breath and wasted effort.

 

The results of The Games were hardly a surprise either. As one might’ve guessed, the suitor to have ranked highly in most of the contests was Lord Yunho. Earning him a medal which was little more than an accessory created for the competition. But the main prize was his guaranteed inclusion in next week’s event. Though Irene would argue that the biggest takeaway was the favor and renown he gained from the common folk. And as far as Irene could tell during his medal presentation, they’d begun to admire him quite a bit.

 

She remembers how they cheered and swooned when Lord Yunho kissed her hand after she hung the medal around his neck. He wore that same old familiar smile but there was something different too. Something in his eyes that made Irene pause.

 

And as Irene recollects all that had happened over the course of the week, she can’t help but think of another instance that had taken her aback.

 

Please, call me Seul. It’s what my family and friends call me back home. Truth be told, Lord Kang just sounds so stiff to me.

 

Dropping titles and calling someone by name. It was refreshing to be so… casual in the moment with someone she hardly knows. None of the others would’ve dared ask as it’s most likely seen as disrespectful, especially since most of them weren’t close with her. The only suitors who’d be able to get away with such a thing are Yunho and Wendy, who already drop formalities when speaking to her in private.

 

It was especially fun when she proposed Lord Kang do the same and call her Irene. She knew he’d refuse, though he did eventually give in to her teasing and bullying, much to her amusement.

 

There was also his duel against Lord Woojin which was beyond unforeseen. He just didn’t seem the type. As for Lord Woojin--being the hot head that he is--she wasn't surprised at all to hear he was involved in the ruckus when they happened upon it. But Lord Kang?

 

It was a sight to see his arrow nocked and ready, aimed straight at Lord Woojin as he approached.

 

Lord Kang is proving to be much more interesting than anticipated.

 

Which is certainly a better opinion than her initial impressions of him.

 

An idea strikes her and she sits up from her bed, tugging the sheets off her body. Irene languidly walks to her desk on the opposite end of the room, across from her bed. There, a heap of books lie in disarray. On the desk, on top of her chair, and on the ground surrounding it. She rummages through them, squinting and raising them high in the moonlight to read the titles. Book after book, she sets them aside, organizing them as she filters through. When finally, she stops and stares at a red leather bound book. Her fingers glide over the face of it.

 

This will do.

 

//

 

“So how did we do?” Seulong asks as he stands besides Seulgi’s bed, his shadow looming over her face.

 

“I don’t know,” she responds indifferently.

 

All energy obviously drained from her. She lays lifelessly on her bed, wishing she can just pass out but of course, her brother is all too eager to talk. And being the good sister that she is, she indulges him. They did, after all, agree for her to give him frequent recaps and reports on everything that transpires. Eyelids heavy, she fights the urge to fall asleep.

 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Seulong whines and crosses his arms. “Were you that bad?”

 

“I wasn’t bad,” she clarifies as she sits up in her bed, revitalized and slightly annoyed from the bit of slander. “They just didn’t care to announce any rankings other than the top three.”

 

A long drawn and even more annoying sigh escapes Seulong. Weathering away what little patience Seulgi is holding onto.

 

“So, in other words, you were horrible. I bet I would’ve made the top three if I was competing,” Seulong dares to say.

 

And Seulgi abruptly rises to her feet, causing her brother to step back a few inches and almost fall over onto the wooden screen between their beds. Luckily for Seulong, his sister is beyond such childishness to actually push him into it. Though she will admit, she did consider. He glares back at her, seemingly irritated.

 

“In your dreams, maybe,” Seulgi scoffs. “I’m sure you would’ve done way worse than I did.”

 

“I don’t see how that’s possible,” Seulong argues uselessly.

 

“Oh really? Need I remind you of our entire childhood?” Seulgi arches a brow. The confidence bleeds from her brother’s face, rapidly replaced with regret. She smirks. “Because I can list off almost every instance in which I bested you.”

 

“That’s not--”

 

“Horseback riding. You can barely stay on.”

 

“Okay, well--”

 

“Skinning animals. You nearly puke at the sight of a carcass every time.”

 

“I almost didn’t--”

 

“Reading. God, it took you ages to learn how to read--”

 

“OKAY! That’s--”

 

Suddenly, there’s a rap on the door. The two siblings go quiet, exchanging wary glances. Then, there’s more knocking. Once more, they look at each other, neither one of them moving.

 

“Should we answer it?” Seulong whispers. Just as he’s done, the visitor at their door knocks again. Only once this time and a little softer. Still, it has the brother and sister feeling cautious.

 

“It’ll look suspicious if we don’t.”

 

It’s true that they can ignore their visitor altogether, pretending that they’re not in the room or that both of them had fallen fast asleep past waking. Then, it’d only be a matter of waiting for their visitor to give up and eventually leave. But Seulgi’s certain, that whoever it is that’s at the door, they know there’s at least someone in this room. Seulgi and Seulong’s earlier bickering guaranteed that. Their voices had to have been heard.

 

“Go hide. I’ll see who it is,” Seulgi instructs as she quietly walks to the door.

 

For a second, Seulong opens his mouth to speak as if to object, but then closes it. He nods and then silently makes his way to the bathroom, nearly shutting the door, leaving only the smallest crack.

 

Once he’s hidden, Seulgi turns the door knob and slowly opens the main door of their room, just barely halfway. Careful not to allow a full view of the inside as it never hurts to be overly cautious. Her eyes widen in surprise as she recognizes their evening visitor.

 

“My lady, what brings you here?” Seulgi asks, fighting back her nerves and attempting to ignore her accelerating heartbeat.

 

In front of her, Joy smiles sweetly.

 

Trouble looming.

 

Seulgi eyes the two knights of the Royal Guard standing behind Joy, offering them a friendly grin as their gazes meet. Their stoic faces remain unchanging. Louder and louder, Seulgi can hear the drumming of her heart pounding in her ears. Her hand clutches the door knob tightly, knuckles going white from her death grip. And it’s all she can do to keep from shaking.

 

Have we been caught?!

 

Her mind races but she manages to keep a semblance of calm.

 

“Just running a small errand this evening,” Joy replies.

 

“Oh, is that all?” Seulgi further inquires, somewhat doubtful.

 

“Yes, but… ” Joy trails off, leaning more on her right leg as her eyes attempt to peek past Seulgi’s left shoulder and into the room. Seulgi her head to the side, blocking her line of sight, faking a wide grin. The lady-in-waiting arches a brow and brings a finger to lips in thought. “Am I interrupting something?”

 

Hesitant that she may answer carelessly or even worse, have a slip of the tongue, Seulgi takes a moment. She feigns a look of confusion in reply to Joy’s questioning gaze.

 

“What do you mean?” Seulgi says.

 

“It seemed like you were talking to someone earlier. Isn’t that why you took so long to answer the door?”

 

And Seulgi swears she can see the wisp of a smile present on Joy’s lips.

 

She inwardly curses. Her gut feeling was certainly on the mark about this girl.

 

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, my lady. I’m the only one here,” Seulgi lies as smoothly as possible. Careful to keep an even voice. “I was actually in the bathroom earlier just talking to myself.”

 

“Talking… to yourself?” Joy blinks in a fit of bewilderment.

 

Honestly, Seulgi’s not sure what else she could’ve said that would’ve been both plausible and not so crazy. At the very least, nothing so ideal instantly came to mind. And if she had taken too long, well, then even more suspicion would’ve been drawn upon her. This was the first excuse she could think of and so she rolled with it.

 

“Yes, I was thinking out loud. I do that sometimes to help process my thoughts,” Seulgi smiles sheepishly while rubbing the back of her neck, hoping her timid performance will convince Joy that she’s confessed an embarrassing truth.

 

Better than being found out for our deception.

 

Whether or not Joy is persuaded though, Seulgi can’t tell as the girl stares at her blankly for a time. Eyes fixated upon her and unyielding. Almost like she’s waiting. Waiting for a crack. A slip up. A blunder.

 

But finally, Joy shrugs as if she’d suddenly grown too tired to probe further.

 

“Fair enough. I can’t say it’s something I’ve never done. Well,” she sighs, “it’s getting quite late, so here.”

 

In her hands, Joy holds out a red leather bound book, gesturing to Seulgi to take it. The fake lord regards the item skeptically, slowly reaching out and grabbing it. Seulgi turns it over in her hands, examining the book. She notices the rounded and worn corners. Evident scratches of wear and tear on both the front and back. And the title, so faded, Seulgi can’t even begin to guess what it says.

 

“What’s this?” she asks, looking back at Joy.

 

“My small errand,” Joy smiles. And before Seulgi can utter another word, she begins to leave, already starting down the hallway. “Good night, Lord Kang. Try not to be too loud next time you sort through your thoughts.”

 

The two knights trail after Joy without so much as a glance at Seulgi. Heavy armored boots echo as they walk down the hall and Seulgi watches them as they depart. Making doubly sure they’re leaving. Once they begin to descend the stairs, she checks the book again. Opening it to the first page, she notices a folded parchment inside.

 

On the top, written in fine script, is one word.

 

Seul.

 

Without wasting another second, Seulgi unfolds it and reads.

 

Since you asked so politely earlier, here is my first recommendation for you.

 

I trust that your interest in reading more was a serious one and not just tailored persuasion.

 

I look forward to discussing its contents with you.

 

-Irene

 

--

 

a/n: it’s been FOREVER. yes, i know lol i literally abandoned this fic for like 2+ years. But here is an update to all the patient and waiting readers who are still interested in this story~ lol i’m sure everyone knows by now that i’m slow af OTL this year tho i’ve been especially inactive writing wise as i’ve been on a hiatus. I don’t know when the next update will come, I will definitely say it won’t take 2+ years lol but I’ll be working on my update for Temporarily Yours next. I usually reply to all the comments from my last update but I’ll be skipping this time since it’s been so long OTL sorry that I won’t be replying but pls know that I did read every comment posted here and I greatly appreciate the support and kind words~ With everything going in the world, I hope you all are doing well and if not, i hope you’re on your way to doing well and finding enjoyment in even the smallest things. As always, thank you to everyone who read(including silent readers), subscribed, and/or commented! Y’all are the best~