When the high pitched screech left my body and pierced the air, he lurched forward and placed his hand over my mouth, covering it and getting even closer to me. It muffled my scream for only a few seconds before the sound stopped all together, but he still kept his hand pressed firmly against my mouth.

He blinked at me with earnest brown eyes and tilted his head slightly to the left. His eyes began to search my face, looking at every part of it with extreme scrutiny. The critical eyes narrowed and continued their examination for another minute as I stared, watching him inspect me. Eventually, he looked back up into my eyes long enough for me to really look into them.

They were a deep, dark brown filled with something I couldn’t quite place. It seemed as if he was conflicted. And it amazed me that this look was so profoundly set in his eyes that even I could see it, as if I was getting a secret look into his mind. But beyond that wall of confliction, I knew there was something more, something even better that I was itching to see, but I knew I wouldn’t see it today. At least not right now.

My gaze dropped from his eyes to his nose, his long, straight nose. From there it dropped to his lips, his pink, soft-looking lips. From there it moved to his skin, his light, smooth, fragile-looking skin. From there it moved to his ears, his cute, small ears poking out from just below the edge of his black head gear. I looked back up to his eyes and I noticed that his were moving from my body back to my face.

For a moment I had forgotten that I was in weird clothing. At least it was weird for everyone but me.

I had also forgotten that his hand was over my mouth. I pulled my lips into my mouth self-consciously, but he didn’t take notice of the change.

His stare moved from me to the entrance of the room where he watched it intensely for a few seconds, as if waiting for someone to burst through the doors and drag me away. When he was done observing it, he turned back towards me. I was expecting him to finally say something or ask me about what I was wearing or who I was, but he didn’t. He leaned forward, causing me to widen my eyes in an excited, nervous sort of fear. He cocked his head to his left and with his free hand slowly moved the hair from my right shoulder away, causing it to fall down my back and expose my neck.

I held my breath and swallowed hard, which I’m sure he saw and heard, but chose to ignore.

He lifted his free hand again and the sleeve of his red and gold hongryongpo fell, exposing his smooth skin and wrist. His warm, slender fingers slid onto the back of my neck so gently it felt like a feather being trailed along my flesh. Despite how light the contact was, even if he was barely touching me, my skin jolted with an unknown type of electricity which caused me to hold another gulp of air into my lungs until it felt like my chest was about to explode.

He gradually lifted my hair up, exposing more of the right side of my neck but also behind my ear. He leaned forward and titled toward the left, looking at my neck. I could feel his hot breath wash over the thin skin on my neck and collar bone, igniting the urge in me to shiver. It was like he had awakened every nerve in my body from a lifelong hibernation.

The whole process was so unexpected and painstakingly slow I didn’t even notice he had let go of my hair and had leaned back with both of his hands placed firmly in his lap until a good thirty seconds after it was over.

I blinked up at him and searched for a reason why he did what he did on his face, but I found nothing and put my head down.

A long silence settled over us. It wasn’t the mutual silence where two people are content with the way the conversation has gone and agree it is over and sit, mulling over what was said and what wasn’t. It was the pressuring silence where both people want to burst out and confess everything so badly that they feel as though they are going to explode, but do not say a word or make a sound.

And neither of us wanted to be the first to announce what was on their mind.

In an effort to be patient, my eyes wandered around the room to the thin, tan colored walls that allowed the sunlight to float through them easily, giving a natural light to the room. I noticed there was a folding curtain behind the king’s seat that was covered in intricate, colorful flowers. It had a bright blue background and there were green, white-bellied, and pink-throated hummingbirds gently pressing their beaks into the center of the flowers. It was a relaxing pattern.

All of a sudden the king cleared his throat and my eyes averted to the wooden floor.

With that noise, the pressure seemed to explode and simmer away quietly, like the boom of fireworks and the soft crackle as the decorations are exposed.

“What is your name?” he inquired, his tone firm but not intimidating.

I strained to keep my eyes toward the ground. “Excuse me, sir?”

I never intended to fake the identity of the Queen to the King, since that would be horrendous and awful and I could die for something like that, but I hadn’t expected him to know I wasn’t her without asking me a few questions first. He hadn’t even heard my voice yet and he already knew the truth.

“I know you are not the Queen,” he confirmed matter-of-factly. “I would like to know your name.”

I swallowed and my dry lips. “My name is Han Soojin,” I answered quietly.

“Why do you look like the Queen?”

I tried not to smile at the question. It was a silly thing to ask, and I didn’t really have a reasonable answer, but he asked it so sincerely I didn’t want him to think I was laughing at him.

“Well . . . my parents are responsible for that outcome.” I tried not to sound sarcastic.

He was quiet for a minute and then continued. “Where did you get your clothes?”

I debated on what to say, on whether I should tell him the truth or a simplified, passive version of the truth. I figured he wouldn’t believe me if I told the truth, since if I were him I wouldn’t believe me either.

“I got them from far, far away,” I eventually replied.

“Look at me,” he commanded, apparently accepting my answer to his question.

I lifted my head and did as he demanded.

He raised his chin higher in the air as if to clarify that he was in charge and I was to obey his every word. I suppose he didn’t want to seem like a weak king. “I have a proposition for you.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I didn’t say anything. He continued. “It’s quite a large favor, which even I am burdened to ask for.” He stopped for a second and let what he had said sink in. “It’s a serious favor, however, that needs to be taken care of soon or never. So I will need your answer now.”

I nodded in understanding, indecisive as to whether I should deny it now or listen to it first and think about it after hearing it.

“I must say before I tell you, this favor is a big deal and you should not take it at all lightly." He paused and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. "I want you to be the queen." His eyes stared at the ceiling for a second before correcting himself. “No, I need you to be the Queen. You look and sound just like her, no one would be able to tell the difference.” The manly, confident demeanor he held just a few minutes ago in front of me was deflated now, and almost completely gone.

But even his loss of confidence couldn’t stop me from being shocked. Whatever I could’ve imagined the favor would’ve been, that particular favor would’ve NEVER crossed my mind. EVER. Pose as the Queen?! Is that legal? Or moral? And to be asked by the King himself?

He must’ve seen the horrified/shocked/nervous look on my face because he quickly continued to reason out his request. He spoke swiftly and in a low tone, as not to let anyone else hear through the thin walls. “The real Queen is gone. No one knows what happened to her and rumors are spreading all over the nation. It’s affected the way the officials look at me, and the public as well. People think she’s run away with another man. If my own wife won’t respect me, how will an entire nation?” He let the rhetorical question settle into my brain before continuing. “Be Queen Han Chunja. Just until we find her and then we will let you go. We can give you a reward. As many riches as you wish.”

I blinked, wide eyed. “I-I—“

“I need an answer now.”

“B-but I-I don’t know—“

His eyes were pleading with a strong desperation I’ve never seen before.

Not only was his marriage sort of failing, but his reputation was falling down, too. No king wants to be seen as a joke in the eyes of his people. I could never imagine what that would feel like. And if he didn’t have an heir yet, no one would be able to take his place.

“Han Soojin,” he said quietly, so quietly I looked into his eyes to see what was behind that brown color. “Please.” Instead of confliction, there was a burning intensity like a strong, orange flame that won’t go out even after you blow on it a few times.

I felt like I was being torn in two. I had no clue what to pick. I had no clue how to be a queen. I wasn’t even out of high school yet. I didn’t know much about him and his reign as king, either. I felt like I was blind and trying to figure my way out of a maze. I felt frustrated, helpless, and pitiful.

“Your Majesty,” a male voice said from outside of the doors.

The King’s eyes widened and he grabbed my elbow and stood me up, hurrying me to the folding curtain filled with flowers and hummingbirds. He moved it aside to reveal a smaller version of the doors to his room. He opened them urgently and told me to go in.

It was a smaller version of his room, yet shabbier and dustier and not as decorative. I stepped in without protest because I knew there was a reason he was trying to hide me and I didn’t want to look that reason in the face.

“Her Royal Highness, the Royal Queen Dowager is here to see you, Your Majesty,” the voice announced louder this time.

The King glanced at me once more, flashing an apologetic look, before closing the doors and repositioning the curtain back into place. I could hear the rustling of his clothing as he sat down on the red and gold cushioned seat.

I heard the multiple sets of doors open and close.

“Hello, grandmother,” he greeted cheerfully.

“I heard the Queen is gone,” she announced quickly and angrily.

A long moment of silence passed and I was afraid of what the King would say. I was afraid he’d confirm the rumors and they’d spread quicker, leading to his fall as king once everyone thought the Queen left him for an unknown nobleman, whom she apparently loved. But I was also afraid he’d say yes and then I’d be forced to do him the favor and pretend to be the queen for an indefinite amount of time. Who knows how long it’d take for them to find her?

I slid across the floor slowly and quietly to lean my ear against the door, trying to hear what they were saying more clearly.

I heard the King clear his throat.

“Well?” the Royal Queen Dowager inquired. “I heard she ran away with a nobleman. A nobleman,” she added for emphasis as if to make sure he knew he should be ashamed and embarrassed.

“She’s . . . she’s not gone. She’s here. Don’t worry, I know exactly where she is. She’s here,” he told her eventually.

My heart raced, but sank at the same time.

“Do you promise?” the Royal Queen Dowager asked cautiously.

“I promise,” he confirmed with a solid tone, ending the conversation.

“All right.”

I heard the doors open and close again and the King let out a loud, long sigh.

And I tried not to scream again.

Hi again! Sorry it took me a little longer to update, I've got ap summer work that needs my attention :/

And on top of that, I've been debating on how to go with this chapter, so it took a little time to think it through.

But thanks again for all the subscribing and voting and commenting! I'm extremely grateful and I hope you guys liked this chapter! Let me know what you think in the comments! I'll try to update soon :D