There isn't very much reason and evidence to explain why I left home that day; in my mind, the ideology I stood by made more sense than when spoken out loud.  From someone else's point of view, I must have looked extremely selfish and ungrateful for the life my parents gave me. Nearly every peasant as far as the eye could see dreamed of living in a gigantic castle, surrounded by guards dressed in scarlet red from head to toe, and gorgeous gardens that far surpassed even the largest field of flowers. This description is, of course, in the words of my glory-obsessed father, but it's not like I hadn't heard them before that day; part of being a prince in the kingdom is having someone educate you more often than necessary about the luck that was given to you since the day you were born. Having it constantly drilled into my head didn't keep me from leaving, though.

When my mother and father asked me, very seriously, why I was leaving, the only answer I could give them was one word: love. Cliché, I know, but love makes you do some crazy things. My parents wanted me to fall in love with some gorgeous princess with "dazzling blond hair and eyes that reflect the sea", as my mother described. Sungjong wasn’t anything like that. That's why they found my leaving so confusing; who could possibly be so lovely that I would have to leave an amazing life, when I could marry anyone I wanted? Well, falling in love with a villager wasn't exactly my plan, and it messed up whatever fantasies my mother and father had about me becoming the king of some far-off land, but it's definitely a story worth telling. 

The place I lived in for twenty years was my own personal hell-hole, but my mother's dream. Covered in towers, it was made completely out of shiny white stone, with tall windows and a ballroom so big that it took up half the castle exactly. Six months ago, on what I dramatically named the most mysterious night of my life, I sat in the most uncomfortable throne in the room, staring back at the entire royal court as they listened to my father go on about the progress of education in the village.

I never quite understood what my place was in those meetings; my brother was on his way to becoming king, as soon as he found a wife to join him, so it was more important that he learn the flamboyant ways of my father instead of me. However, my parents made an ongoing argument that I would always be second in command, so it was important that I be prepared to take his place if necessary. It wasn't necessarily annoying that I was the understudy for one of the laziest, most sarcastic men in the kingdom; I just didn't want having to sit for hours in complete boredom as part of the job. The meetings always had the same purpose and layout: they started with an elaborate introduction for my father, which then led to a conversation about the common topic of the week, followed by a loud, free discussion with the council members.

Education was a common topic in the kingdom; it was always an issue among previous royalty that the princes and princesses lacked intelligence, and therefor were not prepared for their duties as kings and queens in the future. The council is always trying to come up with new ways to improve the system, sort of as a way to breed intelligent men and women of the royal class. One proposed idea that had been previously discussed numerous times was the possibility of taking in tutors from the village, since public academies were required for anyone under twenty-five. That day, this idea was being discussed, and the conversation was even more heated than ever.

"We can't afford to let our royalty loose the opportunity to gain intelligence!" I watched as my father's face flushed to the shade of a tomato, his hands shaking slightly.

A small man stood up and bowed quickly, his balding head dipping towards us. "Your highness, there is no evidence that supports the villagers' ability to help with that problem. Yes, they are involved in public academies, which are highly ranked in terms of education, but how will we know whether or not they are worthy of teaching the royal subjects? Some of them are as dumb as twigs!"

"Then we will find the good ones," my father yelled back, "there have been studies to show that teenagers tend to learn better when taught by people of their own age. This may be the perfect opportunity to experiment with this idea."

The entire council murmured to one another about the idea of experimentation, obviously not pleased with  what they were hearing. As I fiddled with my fingers, my brother leaned over and touched my nose lightly, making me flinch. "Paying attention, cupcake?" Sungyeol whispered, flashing me a cheesy grin that made me cringe just as much as the nickname he used.

I swatted his hand away and looked straight out in front of me, trying to ignore him. When I finally nodded, he smirked and patted my shoulder. "Just wanted to make sure my understudy was learning his lines. Keep paying attention, Myungie."

As he leaned away, I felt discomfort echo through me. Sungyeol had always been extremely touchy, in a way that opposed appropriate behavior. I had always wondered how he managed to get away with creeping on me with my parents around, but I shouldn't have been surprised. In his position, becoming a good king mattered more than respecting my personal space.

Shifting a bit in my seat, I leaned my head against the side of the seat and stared at the ceiling, giving up on listening to my father speak. While I examined the detailed mural that covered the vast space above me, I couldn't help drowning in my own thoughts. I wondered why I even got my hopes up before any of these meetings; they were always the same, boring as ever.

Lost in my head, I hardly noticed as Sungyeol moved towards me again, his face right inching closer to mine with every second that passed. I had the itching urge to slap him right then and there, but I held inside whatever anger was about to jump, remaining calm with my eyes glued to the ceiling mural.

Rather than sensing the repulsive feelings I was having, he poked my face with his finger, making me jump a bit. I whipped my head towards him and glared with all the fire I had, confused as to why he felt it necessary to invade my space bubble. He smirked at me, pointing to the crowd that had gathered in the vast ballroom, and I turned my head to look, making eye contact with the hundreds of faces that stared at me, obviously waiting for something. Looking over to my left, I saw my father staring at me, blinking a few times before raising his hand a bit, in hope that I would stand up.

Jumping to my feet a bit too eagerly, I bowed and looked to the king again, waiting for him to help me. Seeing that father was in no position to assist more than he had, Sungyeol stood and inched closer to me. "You need to recite the Code of the Youngest Prince, Myungie…" he whispered to me, gesturing for me to continue.

I nodded in understanding and raised my right hand, preparing to end the meeting on it's usual note. "In this honored kingdom," I began shakily, my face flushing red as the council's staring grew more intense, "it is the job of the youngest prince to be ready when needed, and serve those higher than him in the event of death or injury."

As I slumped back down into my chair, my father rose from his throne and joined the council in the center of the ballroom, making small-talk with the most honorable knights and wizards, while my mother rose and walked over to me, leaning on the side of my throne casually.

"You dozed off again, Myungsoo…" she began, disappointment etched in her voice.

Sighing, I bowed my head slightly and then shrugged, "I'm sorry, mother. It won't happen again."

Her eyes searched mine, and she gave me a worried look. "Even though these meetings don't seem very important to you-"

"It is important that I remain ready to jump in for my stupid- brother. I know…" I mumbled under my breath, looking down at my feat in annoyance.

"Your time will come, sweetheart," she told me, her palm resting on top of my head.

After a few seconds I looked back up at her and nodded. "I don't mind slaving after him… I just hate these meetings." I said, laughing slightly.

My mother gave me a wide smile and hugged me before grabbing onto my hands. "Nobody likes them, not even your father," she said, trying to reassure me, "Trust me. So just try to pay attention. Alright? It'll save us a all a lot of embarrassment."

"I'll try," I mumbled, standing up at the sound of the royal trumpet that clearly signaled the exit of the royal family, trailing closely behind my brother. As we joined the line of royalty by the side door of the room, I dragged my feet against the red carpeting, keeping my eyes on the floor. I had already embarrassed myself once that night, I wasn't going to do it again. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the knights lighting the wall torches as we walked past them one by one. It was a symbol of honor; a way to show the royalty lighting the way towards victory and peace, or something like that. Like many of the happenings in that castle, I didn't find the ritual necessary in anyway.

As we approached the doorway, which was held open by two knights decked out in scarlet red, someone in the large crowd of men and women let out a deafening shriek, and I turned my head just in time to see an egg fly past my face, hitting the wall with a loud crack. My eyes trailed from the glob of yellow on the wall to a younger boy in the middle of the room, who was standing wide-eyed in shock as a larger boy stood to the side of him, pointing and yelling at the other with forced urgency. Looking at the egg-thrower in the split second I had before the guards grabbed onto him, I somehow could tell that he wasn't one to chuck produce at a prince, and I also knew that the chubbier boy wasn't just a bystander, though I couldn't figure out why I thought that. It was just my suspicion, but it was so strong and prominent in my mind that it wouldn't leave, and I suddenly felt the need to speak up.

Before I had time to say anything, a pair of guards grabbed the boy's long arms and dragged him off in the other direction, his legs flailing in the air as he was pulled in a very uncomfortable position towards another door, which led directly to the castle dungeons. As I watched him disappear  around the corner, his eyes met mine for a split second, and I swear my heart began to beat a bit faster. His eyes were wide white saucers with brown irises, and his hair was slightly curly and brown. Even though I only saw him for a moment, there seemed to be a picture of that skinny boy burned into my mind, and it definitely interested me.

Feeling a tap on my hand, I looked over to see my brother staring at me, his fingers tugging at mine. "Come on bro, it's time to go," Sungyeol said, his voice more urgent and serious than normal having experienced a dramatic situation.

I unwillingly followed after him, looking behind me once or twice to see if the boy would reappear, but he never did. Though I wasn't necessarily sure what had happened that day, I knew one thing.

I needed to see him again.