Yeonhee had not expected to make national headlines on Monday morning, but the news was apparently slow enough for even the main newspapers to plaster pictures of her and Yixing all over the front pages with sensational headlines like Who is Our Country’s Mysterious Future Princess? and Prince Charmed by his Cinderella, and Sehun’s personal favourite since it was so ludicrous: The Phoenix Cinderella: Rebirth of a Monarchy.  During lunch, he’d taken the time to go around campus to pick up a copy of literally every magazine or newspaper in the university, and at some point in the afternoon, he tipped up in Yeonhee’s room armed with a stack of these and his laptop (for the blogs), apparently wanting to analyse everything.

“Why?” Yeonhee asked him, completely nonplussed, as he locked the door.

“Because it is imperative for you to know what the country is saying about you.”

“But I don’t want to know what the country is saying about me.”

“Tough.”  He took up residence in her office chair and scooted over to the bed, where Yeonhee had been sitting reading through notes until his intrusion.  “I also want to know what you see in him.  And I don’t mean that in a derogatory way, or that there’s nothing to see in him.  I just don’t understand how all this happened.”

Yeonhee supposed the talk had been coming at some point anyway.  She explained, very briefly and without reference to Easyl, that the prince had found her through her artwork, requested lessons, and that things had evolved from there.

Sehun’s first question, though, made her realise that she was probably going to have to tell him the full story.

“But why was he happy with this?” he demanded.  “I mean, you’re you.  Why would he actively seek out somebody he knew hated him and who was well known for criticising him like that?  It also makes no sense for you to have agreed to that.”

Grimacing, Yeonhee texted Yixing to ask him if she could tell Sehun everything.  Given Sehun’s background, Yixing was reluctant to say yes, but he did so on the basis that Yeonhee’s trust in Sehun was absolute.  Under Sehun’s disapproving gaze, Yeonhee revealed the full story.  His only comment on Yeonhee’s revelation that she was Pencilmania was “I was wondering about that”, but at the end of it, he’d stopped looking so judgemental.

“Hearing all that,” he said slowly, “I’m willing to change my opinion on him as a person.”

“You are?” asked Yeonhee, astonished.

“My views on the monarchy in general still stand,” Sehun said quickly.  “But it does look like, on the level of a basic human being, Prince Yixing has turned over a new leaf.  I mean, it’s true that you’re the biggest scandal he’s had in over half a year.  The only scandal, even.  And, well, to be completely fair, it certainly looks like he’s treating you extremely well, and I don’t just mean that from the point of view of luxury and whatever—”

“That barely comes into it, Sehun—”

“—Looks like he’s a bit too naïve about where he can and can’t go with you in public, which is definitely not good, but then I see the way he looked at you yesterday and all the pictures from the ball and. . .”  With a shrug, Sehun logged into his laptop.  “I mean, just in terms of decent human being, he is clearly a better pick than Taehyung.  I actually I don’t think I’ve ever seen somebody make it so obvious they like somebody else just from the way they pay them attention before.  Even the newspapers think it’s adorable.  The blogs are less complimentary, but I guess that’s what happens when you get several thousand jealous teenagers on the internet who think they have a shot at being princess, so I really wouldn’t bother yourself with them.”

He turned his laptop around so that she’d be able to see it.

“Just look at these.”

Yeonhee did look.  The computer was displaying a blogpage that positively fawned over her and Yixing, but particularly Yixing.  Whoever had written the post appeared to have compiled literally all the photos they could find of the ball of her and Yixing interacting.  A lot of the images were captioned by incoherent squealing.

There were a few captions that were actually comprehensible, such as the one for the gif of Yixing helping her out of the limousine, which read something along the lines of omg look at the way he smiles at her asdflkajdslfkaj; and a couple from when he was waltzing with her that read a much more coherent I want somebody to look at me the way he looks at her.

Yeonhee scrolled down the page.  There were a number of gif sets sprinkled in and amongst the photos, including one from the boy who’d tried to take her mask off mid-dance.

Watch the prince, guys, the compiler had written above this one, which was in greyscale.  The gif had an arrow signalling out the prince while Yeonhee and her dance partner, who were in colour.  The prince’s reaction to the altercation was highlighted, but apparently what made it so swoon-worthy was how quickly he’d made a beeline for Yeonhee once the dance was over and he could politely get away from his partner.

There was also lots of cooing over the way he’d held her during the Shostakovich waltz, and over basically the entirety of the polonaise, as well.  Without the mask, the affection in Yixing’s expression was even clearer, and Yeonhee could feel herself bushing despite the fact that he wasn’t even in the room.

“There’s another blog where they try to compile everything they know about you,” Sehun told her as she continued scrolling through.  “Thankfully, nobody’s that close to the truth.  Yet.”

With reluctance, Yeonhee tore her gaze away from the most flattering picture of Yixing she’d yet seen.

“What conclusions have they drawn?”

“At the moment, the most popular opinion is that you’re a lower-middle-class Zenyu girl, possibly not from the city, because you’ve never been to a ball before.  They’re saying maybe a scholarship student because you apparently had a long discussion about education with somebody. . .”  Shaking his head, Sehun took his laptop back.  “Apparently that means you’re a bit of a social justice wa