From: Private number, 10.01

How much would art lessons cost?

Murmuring an apology to Baekhyun, who she’d been walking to the library with, Yeonhee halted and surveyed the screen.  It was from the prince, since the previous thread of messages were him organising the (successful, this time) meal at Tempe the night Taehyung had staked out her room.  Baekhyun narrowed his eyes at her and also halted, but waited far enough away not to annoy her by looking over her shoulder at the messages.

To: Private number, 10.02

It would depend on the teacher and whether or not the lessons were private.

She was about to type more, asking for his budget range (would he even have one?) and whether he wanted an art teacher who taught art or to solicit the services of a professional artist who would make an exception for him since he was royalty (since that kind of thing did open doors), when a reply popped up.

From: Private number, 10.02

My apologies.  I wasn’t clear enough.  How much would you charge for art lessons?  I want to learn how to draw.

Yeonhee gnawed at her bottom lip.  Part of her was already shrieking with anxiety, because was she even a good enough artist to teach the prince (let alone capable of teaching?), but she could feel a blush creeping onto her cheeks.  She wasn’t supposed to care about his status – it was worthless, she reminded herself – and yet there was something thrilling about somebody so important (he wasn’t even supposed to be important, she was a republican) thinking so highly of her drawings.  A senpai-noticed-me moment, she supposed.

To: Private number, 10.02

I really don’t think I should charge you.  I can’t.

From: Private number, 10.03

Rubbish.  I’m a man of taxpayer means – quote me.

Baekhyun coughed, reminding her that he was there and waiting.  Yeonhee smiled vaguely in his direction.

To: Private number, 10.03

You’re a man of taxpayer means.  There.  Quoted.  I’m not qualified to teach.

From: Private number, 10.04

And I’m not in the habit of defrauding somebody of their due wages.

Baekhyun coughed again, getting noticeably restless.  Yeonhee sighed.

To: Private number, 10.04

I don’t know.  Ten dollars an hour?

From: Private number, 10.05

You might want to up it.  I’m probably only going to be free at antisocial hours of morning and evening if Luhan continues with his current scheduling for me.

To: Private number, 10.05

There’s no such thing as antisocial hours for a student.

She could hear his soft chuckle in her head as he replied with fair, but Baekhyun was beginning to look annoyed, and so she put her phone away.

“Boy toy?” he asked.  Yeonhee gave him a grumpy look.  “Is this the guy who took you out last Friday?”

Yeonhee gave a noncommittal shrug.  Keeping quiet on the subject was dangerous because Baekhyun would probably snoop (Yeonhee didn’t know if he’d find anything), but saying much in any direction would either result in trouble or lectures, probably both.

“What’s his name?” Baekhyun asked.  “Yeonhee, it’s worrying you won’t say anything about him.  That’s not a sign of a healthy relationship.”

“We’re not even dating.  I’ve already told you that.”

“Are you meeting up with him during the holiday?”

“I have no idea.”

Baekhyun just sighed.  He didn’t appear to be particularly happy, and Yeonhee knew it was out of concern.  Although Baekhyun hadn’t said as much, it was obvious that he at least wanted to meet whoever it was Yeonhee was seeing so that he could verify it wasn’t another Taehyung.

“Let’s go smash our way through some political theory,” he said tiredly.

Yeonhee’s family lived right out in the suburbs of the city.  It wasn’t a particularly affluent area, but it had become noticeably more upper-middle class as she grew up and significantly more Zenyu families lived in the area than had done a decade or so previously.  All the decorations and fairy lights were up – it was the week before Christmas and Yeonhee was sure they must have been up since at least the beginning of the month – but it lent the place a jovial atmosphere as she walked home in the crisp evening air from the bus stop.

Minhee was in the living room watching the news while their mother prepared Yeonhee’s favourite dish as a pick-me-up after the end-of-semester exams.  Somebody had put out a bowl of crisps and Yeonhee grabbed a handful of them as she slumped down on the sofa.

“Your favourite person was on TV earlier today,” Minhee told her.

“Mm?”  Yeonhee was too tired to bother with a proper reply.

“Yeah.  Apparently there’s a sizeable group of politicians challenging the prince’s authority to put together a skeleton government.”

Yeonhee reached for more crisps.  “There’s no legal basis for a challenge.  His father delegated the power to him before he went into a coma, so he’s well within his rights.  Whether he can do anything else without officially being recognised as regent is another question.  I don’t think a skeleton government can ratify that.”

“They’re challenging the need for a skeleton government altogether.”

Yeonhee’s eyebrow twitched.  “The king dissolved parliament because he deemed the factions incapable of working together for the betterment of the country and I think it’s one of the rare occasions somebody outside the government having authority is actually useful, because he was right.”

Minhee smiled.  “I agree, but I wasn’t expecting you to.”

Yeonhee attempted to mumble something in reply, but was too full of food for even her to work out what she’d been saying, and then she was distracted anyway by a quick clip of the prince himself on screen, hair pushed up off his forehead and looking generally dapper as he addressed the various microphones being in front of him while flashes went off continuously.

“No,” he was saying, very firmly in Zenyu.  “I’m not prepared to call a general election until I feel there’s a suitable candidate who will try to bridge the party divide.  The general parliament is far too partisan and now that we actually know who the prime minister’s assassin was, I’m worried that there are a number of politicians who’d use it as an excuse to lash out.  For the sake of this country, I’m not going to allow that.”

The screen cut back to the news presenter, who was saying something about information on the assassin not yet being released and that poll data was showing a lot of unease all over the country at the prince effectively being in power.  Given his announcement that he wasn’t going to allow a general election without a candidate who wouldn’t be to partisan, the general nervousness of the electorate was probably only going to increase.  Prime Minister Huang had been the only vaguely reconciliatory candidate in a good number of years, running on an independent ticket and managing to sweet talk a majority of the country on both sides of the ethnic divide into voting for him before having to form a coalition government, and it was unlikely that another would appear quite so soon, especially given that Huang had been shot.

The front door opened and she heard her dad calling out that he was home, her mother responding from the kitchen.  Knowing that he would go where the food was first to steal bits and pieces while her mum cooked, Yeonhee stayed put as Minhee switched the TV off and went through to her text messages.  One of the annoying things about the prince’s number always being private was that she couldn’t actually save it to her phone, and the only way (not that she’d ever actually initiated contact before) to contact him was via the already established text thread.

To: Private number, 22.14

Who’s the assassin?

There was no immediate response, and so after a moment or two she followed Minhee through to the kitchen to greet her father.

Despite the late hour when they finished eating, their father insisted on a board game as the four of them were so rarely home together, and it was well past midnight when Yeonhee stumbled into bed.  When she went to set her phone alarm, it was to realise that her phone battery had died, and she rummaged around for her portable battery pack, yawning hugely.

There was a text waiting for her when she turned her phone back on.

From: Private number, 23.58

Aw, have you been watching me on TV?

To: Private number, 00.42

My sister was watching the news.

The response was immediate.

From: Private number, 00.42

Did you tell her I was your model?

Yeonhee wheezed painfully.  It was not a subject she wanted to stay on.

To: Private number, 00.44

Why are you awake at quarter to one in the morning?

From: Private number, 00.45

Preparing for a three-day state visit to Columbia that my father was supposed to be going on.  I’m jetting off straight after the Prime Minister’s funeral tomorrow afternoon.  Then I have three Christmas charity functions at the end of the week I need to give speeches at and on