The library is Princess Soojung’s first and only heaven. She adores the musk of parchment-bound manuscripts, and the empowering sense of having all that knowledge at her fingertips. It almost allows her to forget the living hades that her life has become. But the library is a double-edged sword (because nothing ever comes easy to her, ever). The solace in her little shrine allows her the space to reflect on her memories, her situation, her everything, as happened today.

One of Soojung’s first memories is the lack of color. When she first woke up, everything was as white as the plumage of a dove. And now, she realizes, her world is a dark red, the color of blood trailing its way down a face, the striking contrast of ashen visage and crimson drops of life almost blinding in her pensive mind. She recalls all the moments where she would close her eyes, reopen them, and see the entire scene in front of her drenched in scarlet liquid. Every time she would choke back her screams of terror and shock, and every time she failed to halt the tears that spilled over her cheeks.

Somewhere down the corridor, a door bangs, shaking her out of her reverie as high-pitched voices reach Soojung’s ears. She stands up, not willing to be caught by her prissy sister. But she is found anyway.

“Soojung-ah! Why are you all alone, my precious little dongsaeng?”

Soojung cringes, because God, is her sister’s voice annoying. But she has no choice but to respond (royal protocol, the little voice in her head whispers). “I was reading, eonni, as usual. Did you need something?”

The maid who accompanied Princess Sooyeon leaves, and Soojung is left alone with the shrill vixen she is forced to consider her sister. Sooyeon steps forward to caress the younger girl’s face with meticulously manicured fingernails, a reminder of who is actually higher in power and status.

“Are you taking care of yourself, precious?” Deadly venom, disguised as saccharine syrup, drips from her seemingly concerned words. Her slim fingers, befitting of a princess but still reeking of so many emptied bottles of rosewater perfume, brush the dark bags under Soojung’s hollow eyes. The subtly veiled threat (if I’m blamed for this, you will die, little one) is obvious to her, and she draws back from her older sister, heaving a long sigh.

“Yes, eonni. I understand. I will take better care of myself from now on.”

Shooting her sister a fleeting smirk stained with vermillion lipstick, Sooyeon spins around and departs from the hallway, and soon the only remnants of her presence are the lingering traces of roses in the air and Soojung’s nails digging angrily into her trembling palms, leaving bloody crescents on the fair skin.

|ethereal masquerade|

“…and then they told me that I couldn’t swim worth anything, you know, and I laughed at them because, you know, we’re fishermen, but you know how they are, those rich nobles, and they had the nerve, you know! They, they told me—are you listening to me, Jongin? Jongin? Jongin!”

The boy named Jongin lifts his head in annoyance, tousling his dark locks with his free hand as he hauls the latest catch from his fishing boat. “What, Chanyeol? Can’t you shut up for at least one minute?”

“Aww, what a killjoy! At least you could passively listen, instead of actively listening, since you’re obviously too busy for that,” the taller boy huffs in frustration.

“Please, hyung,” Jongin scoffs, “you just wanted to rehearse with me before you go make your…speech to Baekhyun hyung. Aren’t I right?”

Chanyeol sticks his tongue out at Jongin, and runs off to chatter to his beloved cousin, leaving the younger boy looking after him wistfully (if only he could be that free, it’s not fair, but then again when is anything ever fair in this world?). Eventually he shakes his head to clear out the depressing thoughts and returns his focus to the flopping fish. Sometimes, he wonders whether he could one day become like those fish, wriggling around uselessly in the grasp of the Empire. And after a moment’s thought, he realizes that he already is one of those piscine pities, and he turns away to hide his angry tears at the iniquitousness of the world, his whole body shaking at the idea of being a mere pawn in a sick, twisted game of power.

He knows, deep down in his heart, that his life depends on him not overtly fighting the Empire’s mandates. Though he longs—no, yearns—to rip down the Empire with his bare hands, to rake his dirt-caked nails down their perfectly painted faces, he knows he can’t. He can’t jeopardize his family because of his cupidity, his own desire for revenge, however sweet it may have sounded to his ears.

He finishes his work and straightens up, wincing as the familiar ache of a bent back hits him spine full force, just as his hyperactive hyung comes running down the dock, dragging his reluctant cousin along with him and screaming about dinner being ready.

This is home, he thinks, and I will never let the Empire take my family away.

|ethereal masquerade|

It’s around one in the morning, and Soojung has no idea what she’s doing. She just wants to get out, and get away from the nightmares of rose-scented hands with slim fingers and bloodied fingernails clawing her heart out, all the time asking her if she was taking good care of herself. She rises from her warm duvet, walking to her wardrobe, and after a few minutes she finds what she was searching for: a white cotton hanbok. Washing the heavily applied powder from her face, she pulls on the thick garment and turns back to the mirror. Her face pales a little; without the elaborate coiffure and heavy makeup, a member of the royal family could look exactly like a commoner. But Soojung is content—it serves her newfound purpose. Tonight, she’s going to find out what life outside the palace is like, and nobody can stop her.

She slips out her window, the cold air whipping her face, and she nimbly descends the trellis of vines. Treading lightly on the paved roads, Soojung makes her way through random streets, wandering aimlessly for the mere purpose of drinking in the fresh smell of the night air and relishing the pure freedom that runs through her veins. Espying a large gathering of people near what seems to be docks, she stops and makes her way towards them with her heart pounding in her ears. She can make out the contours of the high-masted ships of the Joseon Empire Army, and for a fleeting second she feels guilty for sneaking out from the Palace. But she shakes the thoughts away instantly and looks around, scanning her surroundings for something interesting. There’s a large bonfire with acrid smoke pouring out in all directions, and Soojung winces as her sensitive eyes sting. She clenches her fists—her ‘royalness’ is something she wants to shed tonight and she hasn’t even lasted the first hour. Steeling her nerves, she steps forward, but she still hides in the shadow of a hut, and the princess curses herself for her cowardice. Soojung closes her eyes and lets the feeling of the adrenaline and smoke overwhelm her senses. And then she hears them. They’re discussing the Empire, by the sound of it, and they obviously aren’t supporters of the royalty. She opens her eyes and slinks further into the shadows, intending to listen to everything she can.

“…they’ve been denying me the right to fish in the river these days, you know, and those silk-eaters told me I can’t swim, you know, but they’re so dumb, ’cause we’re fishermen! And then they say mean things to Baekhyun with their stupid rich-people accents, you know—” A male voice breaks out in heart-wrenching sobs, as softer voices weave a web in Soojung’s hearing, presumably comforting the anguished man.

Soojung is trembling now, both in outrage against the nobles who’ve been tormenting this anonymous boy, and in shock that the Palace is not as unanimously loved and respected as she’s been taught from an early age. She waits anxiously for someone else to speak out against the Empire. Opening her eyes, she turns her head in every direction, searching for the commoners who had been talking.

After surveying the area for a while, she does find them: a group of men sitting in a circle around a worn-out table, drinking shots of soju. There are three of them, one of them the speaker who was in tears, another one, presumably Baekhyun, who repeats the words “I don’t even care what they say to me” like a mantra to his friend, and a boy with hair bleached brown by years of swimming in the ocean and a general countenance of disgust. She looks harder at the scene, yearning for more details about their life. Then she sees a fourth figure, sulking in the shadows with clenched fists and an aura of righteous rage. As she watches, the figure rises and walks forward into the light of the bonfire.

Soojung’s eyes widen in pure amazement. As it seems, someone else from the Palace has sneaked out tonight, and by the looks of it, he’s familiar with this place. “Joonmyun-ah,” she breathes, not able to believe her eyes. Soojung closes her eyes, trying to recall any sign her confidant had ever given her at the Palace that he was a traitor to the Empire. She remembers his kind demeanor and ever-calm presence—the person she made it a point to find whenever Sooyeon threatened her or worse, the brother she never had, the only one she really trusted at the Palace. And now? She has no idea what to think, or whether she’ll be able to hide the fact that she has seen his true colors now. Would he kill her if given the chance? Or would he remember all their years spent together in shared misery and spare her? She doesn’t want to stay and find out. Running as fast she can, she heads in the direction of the pearl-hued spires that signify the start of the Palace grounds.

Soojung makes good headway on the nearly mile-long journey back to the Palace until she crashes into someone, totally blindsided by the sudden approach. Before she realizes what’s happening, she’s roughly pulled upright by a stranger. She looks up into the eyes of her savior and gasps in shock for the second time that night. This stranger has the face of a noble, but with sun-tanned skin instead of pale white, piercing black eyes that seem to stare into her own like windows, and lips slightly parted in shock. Apparently, this noble-commoner has recognized her as the Princess of the Joseon Empire. His grip on her wrist tightens before she can react and pull away. As she watches with growing trepidation, he pulls out a knife from his belt and holds the tip directly between her eyes.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now, noble.” He spits out the last word like a curse. Soojung merely stares up at him in bewilderment. She can barely understand his rural accent, let alone comprehend anything in her adrenaline-muddled state. The stranger repeats himself, this time slightly clearer. But she can only manage one word. “Joonmyun…” she murmurs, barely able to speak from the chattering of her teeth.

He lets her go for an instant and she takes advantage of the distraction, scrambling away a few paces and vigorously rubbing her wrist with eyes wide and wary. But he advances on her anyway, with the knife still at ready. “Who are you to Suho? How do you know his real name? Tell me everything you know—I won’t hesitate to end you. It’s not like you’d be sorely missed here.” His last sentence strikes a nerve in her; considering he’d just paraphrased the majority of Sooyeon’s acidic taunts, she can’t help but let out a sob, a lone tear rolling down her cheek. The stranger doesn’t relent, even though Soojung didn’t expect him to do so. He opens his mouth to speak again, probably with more venom-laced words at the tip of his tongue, but a hand on his shoulder stops him from any further interrogation. Soojung looks at her savior through the haze of tears blocking her vision, and when she recognizes the man, she lets out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. It’s Joonmyun, and by the looks of it, he’s very tensed. “It’s okay, Jongin-sshi, she’s with me.” A pained expression appears on the strange boy’s—Jongin’s—face. With one last glare of disgust at Soojung, he drops the knife.

“Then what exactly is this trash doing here, Suho hyung? I’m almost ashamed to call you hyung when you keep company like this. Either kill her instead or take her back to the Palace and make sure she keeps shut about this. Who are you loyal to, the rebels or that pampered—”

“Enough, Jongin-sshi. That’s enough.” Joonmyun approaches the trembling princess and gently helps her up. “Come on, Soojung-ah. Let’s go home.”

“Joonmyun oppa…” Her voice trails off as she notices the withering look that Jongin sends her way. She musters up enough courage to hold his hatred-filled eyes with her own before he lunges at her, fingers reaching for . Joonmyun swings her away from the crazed boy with one hand and catches Jongin mid-lunge with the other.

“Exactly what do you think you’re doing, Jongin-sshi? Regardless of your hatred toward the Empire, she’s still innocent. She has nothing to do with—”

“With what, Suho hyung? What? With all the crimes and atrocities that the Empire has committed? So this little doll is innocent, and it’s my fault that I’m not because of what her family has done to mine? Who do you think you are, you half-breed, to tell me that this privileged lapdog who grew up in silk-lined luxury with a pair of golden chopsticks in , is innocent, when I had to watch her parents murder mine in cold blood? I don’t care if she knows anything. Kill her or take her away before I do.”

The infuriated boy turns on his heel and walks away, leaving Soojung and Joonmyun staring after him in shock. After a few moments of silence, the princess tries to stand up, her legs wobbling and unsteady. Joonmyun quietly offers his assistance, and she takes it willingly. Soojung wonders whether she ought to keep silent, or to ask him the hundreds of questions that burn at the tip of her tongue. It soon becomes clear to her that answering anything is not on Joonmyun’s agenda. His face shows the tension he feels as he almost sprints towards the Palace, practically dragging Soojung behind him in his haste to leave the docks, and presumably Jongin as well.

Finally they reach the iron gates of the Palace. “Get on my back,” Joonmyun orders brusquely. “We don’t have much time. Mistress Sooyeon will wake up soon.” Soojung follows his directions, and he easily vaults over the gate, avoiding the sharp spikes at the top.

“Joonmyun oppa, what’s going on? Who was that man at the docks? Why do they want to kill me? Oppa, I’m scared, I don’t know anything—” She breaks off shuddering, the image of Jongin’s hate-crazed eyes vivid in her mind’s eye.

Joonmyun stays silent for a while, his fringe hiding his dark eyes from view. At last, he speaks. “Go inside, Soojung-ah. If the Palace guards see us, we’ll both be in deep trouble. So leave now.” Without waiting for her answer, he turns on his heel and disappears into the shadows, leaving Soojung to dwell on her own thoughts.