"I will love you in this life, in my next one, in the one after that— No matter who I'm reborn as, I will love you." 

He wants to be called Kyungsoo.

Not 'Crown Prince.' Not 'the heir.' Not 'the next king.'

He wants to be called Kyungsoo, and outside of the palace walls, that is exactly who he is.

When some ask, he is Kyungsoo, the peddler. To others, he is Kyungsoo, the merchant. A small number of his people know him as 'lord' or 'young master.' Regardless, he is always Kyungsoo.

It is stuffy inside of the palace where no one addresses him by his name, hence the reason he escapes it so much. It's not difficult to scale the walls and to land on the grass on the other side where he can practically smell the lingering freedom. Freedom smells like elms and camphors and bread and steam-cooked rice. 

He prefers dusty roads to Donggung's confinement and a plain hanbok to his royal robes. Whilst daydreaming, he's expressed multiple times to Eunuch Kim that he wishes he was born a commoner. Of course, this behavior earns him strong scoldings, as does returning to the palace after having snuck out.

If His Majesty finds out, Kyungsoo's sure his head will be served to the Queen Mother on a gold platter, but that doesn't stop him, nor does knowing that Eunuch Kim grabs at his chest once, heart racing, when he realizes Joseon's successor is missing again.

It's worth it. Being amongst his people without any of them recognizing him for his true self is worth the horror of His Majesty's consequences or a verbal beating by Eunuch Kim. He can be like the villagers. No one falls to their knees before him. He's one of them. He's just Kyungsoo—just a regular person.

It's no different today as he tugs his gat slightly over his face, letting it shadow his features. There are royal guards patrolling this end of the village, as it's the closest to the palace gates. They're all looking for him. Eunuch Kim must have found out that he isn't at his morning lessons.

Kyungsoo dips into the crowd, standing behind a mother holding a basket of grains in one arm and her baby in the other. His gat's beads brush against his cheeks as he lowers his head and tightens the strap. He maneuvers through the commoners until he reaches a narrow alley; he disappears from view just as one guard turns his head in the direction into which Kyungsoo escapes. 

Eventually, they'll give up and leave for another village to see if he's made it that far despite the fact that Kyungsoo has never ventured outside of this area. After all this time, they've still not figured out his patterns. Perhaps it's because the prince is too intelligent to leave a trace behind (or maybe they're just that stupid).

He peers around the corner, letting out a breathy simper when he sees the group has marched in the opposite way. He's safe. Now, it's just a matter of figuring out what to do to pass the time. 

He has the idea of going to the bookstore he frequents. The subject matter of the novels there are rather lewd. There's nothing like them in the palace, as far as he knows, and if there are, they're hidden well. He's seen more ism than a royal should, but what else can be expected from a young man his age? It would be nice to go there again. It's close by anyway.

He can take a shortcut through this alley and its adjacent partners. Just a few turns and he'll be at the bookstore's back entrance. He ventures forward, stepping through mud and loose pebbles. It smells rotten from the low amount of sunlight, but he's used to it.

He's avoided this for far too long.

Kyungsoo's memorized every aspect of him: the sun-kissed flesh donning clothing threaded with muck, the ebony hair in a messy top-knot, the silken tiers with soil at their edges. Some of the village's rowdiest teen boys must have shoved him into the ground again if his face is that unclean.

He's always at the foot of the bookstore, knees drawn to his chest, staring aimlessly at his bare toes. His top is tattered and his fingernails are brown from a lack of a proper wash. He's dirty, but he's beautiful, and for some reason, Kyungsoo feels like the male is waiting for him.

Yet, Kyungsoo doesn't know his name and has never offered his own in introduction either. Truthfully, he suspects the other can't speak, or speaks very minimally. He looks like he's beyond impoverished, so much so that the bookkeeper often tells Kyungsoo how he's had to shoo him away from fear that he'd steal some of his products. Therefore, Kyungsoo's never tried to converse with him before. 

Kyungsoo approaches the door slowly, hands clasped behind his back, eyes on the hunched-over figure. He wishes every time he comes here that the other male would talk to him first. It would end this tense atmosphere. As per usual, however, he enters the bookstore without them exchanging a single word or even a glance.

He spends maybe half an hour inside. Most of it is dedicated to debating whether to exit through the front door or to once more pass by the male outside in the back. He can't concentrate on any book that ends up in his hands. 

He has to say something. What future king can't even speak to a commoner, let alone the kind of king that sees the people as his equal? What has been restraining him from doing so? He's a sociable individual. Why is this so difficult? 

He'll go out the back. He has to.

He's avoided this for far too long.

Kyungsoo places the books he's taken off of the shelves back where they belong. He doesn't notice that he's left some of them out of order. There's nothing else on his mind but to fulfill his goal.

He's quick to rip open the one thing between him and the man outside. With that yank, his boundaries cascade into shambles. He's never been this determined about anything and he's confused as to why his heart requires such an expansive amount of effort for this interaction. 

Instead of the view he's arrived to, Kyungsoo finds himself face-to-face with his goal. He's standing in the doorway, tall and lean and breath-taking. He looks genuinely startled to see Kyungsoo, so the royal averts his gaze as a means to ease the awkwardness.

"Are you just going to stand there?" he questions after several seconds of silence, his hand coming up to toy with the beads swaying alongside his face. 

He hears a quivering chuckle. When he lifts his vision to the commoner once more, a radiant smile blinds him. 

"I- I've been waiting for you for a long time, Kyungsoo, sir."

"Hey."

The incadescent babe in question turns to look at him. 

"How did you know my name?"

"Everyone here knows your name, sir."

"Then address me by it. Don't call me anything so formal."

"Y-Yes, sir. I mean- Yes, Kyungsoo."

The disguised Crown Prince hums, head tilting to earn a better glimpse of supple cheeks. "So, what's your name?"

The luminous orbs he's been getting lost in cast away from him, to his disappointment. Their owner picks at the mud lodged underneath untidy nails.

"I'm a pauper. How can someone as lowly as me have the privilege of possessing a name--?"

Kyungsoo scoots closer. Now that he's sitting here beside the commoner, he understands why the other has chosen this particular spot. It's in the shade and the scent of steamed rice from a tavern in the main road is piquant. 

"Then I shall name you." 

"You- You will?"

"Yes." Kyungsoo furrows his brows. If he can name himself, he can name this person. "Let me think."

Minutes pass. He feels the male grow progressively nervous. It must be uncomfortable for the other to be seated beside someone of higher status. Kyungsoo was born into lavishness of an unnecessary degree and even he can't