“It is quite a fine day today.”

 

The queen looks up to the sky and takes a deep breath in. She smiles at the sight of the clouds blending in blue along with the sunlight, then turns to look at the lady sitting with her legs crossed on the floor and head bowed downwards. The older lady presses her thumb on golden silk before she carefully inserts the sharp head of a needle held tight in between her thumb and index into the fabric. The way she sews will always leave the queen in awe – how the rough pads of her fingers smoothen the garments and how she easily loops in thin strings of thread into a small needle.

 

“I suppose so, Your Majesty,” the queen’s tailor replies in a whisper. She doesn’t say another word after, eyes only focusing on sewing.

 

“I am thankful that you suggested us spending the day in this garden, Lady Yoon. I have not seen the sunlight in a very long time.” The queen says, bending down to pluck the petals of a blooming flower. “After the king remarried, I only stayed in the chambers for so long. So long I forgot the scent of these flowers.”

 

At the mention of the king, the queen’s tailor pauses. She stares at the queen standing amongst the growing flowers. The king has once again married a princess, this time it is from the North. Although the woman standing with the flowers holds the title as the queen while the rest settle as the concubines, the tailor knows that the queen’s heart still aches to see her soulmate with his newly wedded wife.

 

Lady Yoon stands and makes her way towards the crestfallen queen. She plucks a small flower and gently presses it onto the mark on the queen’s wrist. The crescent shaped mark inked on the woman’s wrist glimmers, peachy pink under the sunlight. It seems to sting a little, as the queen winces softly, staring at the beautiful mark. One’s mark hurts the further one’s soulmate walks away from them. The queen helplessly stares at her mark, sighing.

 

“The king will return to the Kingdom of Spring soon, Your Majesty,” Lady Yoon says. She leaves the flower bud on the queen’s palm and smiles. “The mark has yet to fade, or bleed. It will not hurt anymore once the king returns from his visit to the West.”

 

“I miss him, that is all…” The queen nods, though bits of her tears fall. “Thank you, Lady Yoon.”

 

“You are the king’s soulmate, after all, my queen.” the tailor smiles, bright, radiant, positively contagious. “There is no one else who may own the mark on the king’s wrist. There is only you.”

 

The crescent mark on the queen’s wrist shines a sullen violet. It seems like the king misses her, too.

 

The queen’s tailor makes her way back to sit on the floor and sew, but the sounds of mischievous laughter momentarily stops her from doing so. Less than a moment later, two children come running towards the queen’s flower garden, dirt and grins etched on their faces. The properly-dressed boy runs more swiftly, never stopping until he reaches the back of the queen’s dress with a loud exclamation. “Mother! Mother!”

 

“Oh dear,” the queen sighs. “Chanyeol, did you go to the barn again?”

 

“Yes, mother…” The boy mumbles apologetically, but then he grins. “But I fed a cow! It was gigantic, almost the twice size of father.”

 

There comes a quiet chuckle from Lady Yoon, whose arms are wrapped around a smaller boy’s shoulders. Silk and satin long forgotten as she wipes the dirt off the boy’s cheeks. The boy does not show his face, only opts on hiding it in the crook of the tailor’s neck. She pats her son on his back slowly, then pulls away to take a better look at him. “Go on and greet the queen, Baekhyun.”

 

The boy nods obediently. He wipes his mouth once, then bows to the queen. “Your Majesty.”

 

“Good evening, Baekhyun,” she replies with a fond grin, crouching down in order to give the boy a light pinch on the tip of his nose. “Did you bring Chanyeol to the barn?”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty, I brought Prince Chanyeol to the barn.” The boy admits, “I am sorry.”

 

“Please do not punish him, mother,” the young prince begs, tugging at her leg. “I forced him to bring me there. I was lonely.”

 

The queen shakes her head, gently caressing the prince’s chin with her palm. “I will not punish him, he didn’t do anything wrong. Did you have fun at the barn, Baekhyun?”

 

“I did, Your Highness,” The little servant boy – the dearest son of the queen’s tailor and the king’s barber – shows his best toothless grin.

 

The queen takes a long look at the grinning servant, smiling softly when she sees her own son mimicking little Baekhyun’s grin. She brings the servant boy onto her lap, ignoring the tailor’s shriek when the mud from the little boy’s clothes is splattered onto the queen’s dress.

 

“Look at you,” she says, voice so sweet and velvety, it makes the small boy sigh as he stares up at his queen in admiration. “My, my…you’ve grown taller, no? I don’t recall you being this tall.”

 

The child giggles loudly, pleased. “I drank milk, Your Majesty.”

 

“Mother, I’m just as tall,” the crown prince pouts as he tugs onto the queen’s sleeves. “I do not like milk, but I’m tall too.”

 

The two boys continue to crave for the queen’s attention as the queen’s tailor only sits and watches, smiling as she sewed. The queen laughs as the crown prince presses a rough smooch on her cheek, but she does not miss the way the servant boy stares at the glowing crescent on her wrist – violet, glossy and somber. The little boy presses his small palm onto the violet crescent, curious.

 

“It’s purple,” he says, “What does it mean, Your Majesty?”

 

The mark on her wrist no longer hurts, as the king is on his way back to her, so close and so near she could almost feel his breath on her skin. The violet light still shines and the queen’s heart is heavy, but she knows it is a good sign.

 

“It means the king and I miss each other,” she smiles gently, then sends a knowing look to the royal tailor. “If one day you grow up and become a fine man, then you will understand. Your life will never be colorless. Even in the darkest nights, these marks will guide you.”

 

“Is it painful?” Chanyeol asks, tilting his head. “Does it hurt, mother?”

 

“When us soulmates are apart, it does hurt,” a loud voice arrives, startling the queen and the children. The royal tailor, however, bows gently.

 

The queen’s eyes immediately water as her hands tremble when she realizes the king has returned to his kingdom. There is no other woman by his side, only him standing with a grin, holding his arms out for his wife to embrace. The crescents on their wrists glint of gold, pulling at the two soulmates until they stand close, staring into each other’s eyes.

 

“You have returned,” she whispers, palms cradling the king’s cheeks gently. “Oh, look how sunken your cheeks are…”

 

The king chuckles, kissing his wife’s slender fingers. “I missed you greatly.”

 

“I know,” the queen murmurs quietly. “I know.”

 

The servant boy and the crown prince remain sitting on the ground, staring at the king and the queen as they embraced one another. The royal tailor, Lady Yoon has her eyes on something else – a visible torn hole on the crown prince’s trouser, just above his ankle. She simpers softly, covering . “Baekhyun, come here.”

 

Her son rushes to her side, confused. “Yes, mama?”

 

“Look,” she says quietly, pointing towards the crown prince’s ankle. “His Highness might need a little help with that. Do you still remember what I taught you about sewing?”

 

The servant boy nods, excited as he snatches a brown thread and a needle from his mother, then approaches the prince. At the sight of the needle settled in between the servant boy’s fingers, Chanyeol’s eyes widen as he yells for his mother.

 

“It’s all right, Chanyeol,” the queen says, still in the king’s embrace. “Let him help you.”

 

Baekhyun smiles as he carefully sews the ripped part of the prince’s trousers. The king and queen quietly laugh when they realize how crooked it seems once the royal tailor’s son finishes sewing, staring at his mother, seeking for praises from the tailor.

 

“Well done, Baekhyun.” The king says, patting his head. “Perhaps one day you will become the prince’s tailor.”

 

The servant boy beams with pleasure, beyond happy from the king’s thoughtful words. He stares at the pouting crown prince, smiling with adoration clear in his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Even the Midnights Are Better

 

i.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The night skies appear somber. Starless and quiet, only occupied with the soft murmurs of the royal tailor’s son reciting his mother’s favorite poem into her ears. Baekhyun runs his fingers through his mother’s grey hair, pronouncing each and every word slowly, clear and careful. He lets the queen’s former tailor listen and does not allow her to worry of anything else. After all, she is no longer the one who sews at dawn for Her Majesty and her children. She fell sick soon after her husband passed, and although he was not her soulmate, she had experienced great pain when he left.

 

Baekhyun stares at his mother quietly as she takes her time to settle down in the comforts of her small bed. He stops reciting the poem once he sees her small eyes drooping, but once the room is filled with silence once again, she holds onto his arm.

 

“It is almost midnight, isn’t it…” she struggles to say.

 

Baekhyun takes a quick glance at the small clock on the table. “Yes, mama.”

 

She smiles, bringing her hand up to hold onto his face. He feels a shaky hand cradling his chin.

 

“Your birthday,” his mother whispers. “You will turn eighteen soon, Baekhyun.”

 

It’s rather a grand surprise that his mother could possibly remember. Baekhyun himself has forgotten such simple date – it isn’t important to him. This is how his family and his kingdom raised him. He devotes himself as the royal tailor, staying in his small room to sew, sometimes he sits in the garden with the queen by his side, watching him treating to his threads and needles with gentle care and her majesty would chuckle in amusement. He has no time to wait for such insignificant anniversary, but his mother does. She seems happy to know that she’s made it this far – to witness her son’s eighteenth birthday.

 

“It is nothing special, mama. No one remembers. They simply do not care,” he shrugs, sliding the book of poems under his mother’s pillow. “We should go to sleep. It’s getting very late.”

 

She does not allow him to pull away. Yanking gently onto his arm, she presses her palm onto his wrist and closes her eyes as the clock strikes twelve. The sharp jab of pain inflicted onto his left wrist feels too sudden. He feels a tight pull beneath his chest, too intense to the point where he has to hold onto the bed stand. He winces and widens his eyes his mother finally releases his arm. He stares at the dark, black mark on his wrist. It shines only the slightest before it turns dark once more.

 

“It’s my mark,” he says in disbelief. “Mama, my soulmate mark… It’s hideous…”

 

She laughs. It startles him, how vibrant and youthful it sounds. His mother observes his mark for quite a long time with a lovely gaze. “It’s beautiful.”

 

“It’s a needle,” he rolls his eyes. “The king and the queen have crescents. Papa had one with the shape of an orchid. Mine is… a needle.”

 

“I like it,” she teases him. “Don’t you find it pleasing, Baekhyun? You are the royal tailor. It makes sense that your mark is the shape of a needle.”

 

“But mama, it must mean that my soulmate is a tailor as well!” he exclaims. He tries to refrain himself from being too loud. “And I am the only royal tailor in this castle.”

 

“No. Your papa was a barber and his mark was an orchid,” she smiles as she reminisces her late husband. “I’ve seen his soulmate before. She was a gardener. She was very beautiful.”

 

He looks at his mother’s mark on her wrist. It is barely visible, fading as days go by. She has never once spoke about her soulmate, considering how madly in love she was with his father. But Baekhyun remembers the sad look on her face when his father’s mark shone violet and burgundy. His mother stayed away when the mark turned red. It hurt her to see her husband so pained from being apart from his true soulmate.

 

“My mark is colorless…” he realizes, slightly horrified. He searches for answers in his mother’s assuring eyes. “Is my soulmate…?”

 

“No,” she shakes her head. “Don’t worry, Baekhyun. Your soulmate is very much alive. It takes time and patience.”

 

He gazes upon his mark once again, touching it with his fingertips. His heart beats steady as he traces its thin shape. “I suppose I have to live with this for the rest of my life.”

 

Baekhyun leaves the room once his mother is sound asleep. He quietly pads his way to the staircase of the golden palace, making his way to the tower where he usually sews in the evenings. Midnights in the kingdom of spring is never humid – the cold wind softly gusts through his clothes as he gazes at the night sky.

 

The kingdom of spring is calm and tranquil tonight. From where he is standing, Baekhyun could see the dim lights surrounding the city, just a little bit further from the king’s palace. Though it seems like it is not only him who is wide awake during such a silent night; the royal tailor slightly jumps when he hears stifled giggles down below. He squints his eyes to observe the pair of lovers by the flower garden, arms wrapped around each other.

 

“Chanyeol…” Baekhyun mumbles, eyes softening when he realizes the crown prince has snuck out of his chamber again.

 

Baekhyun leans against the wall of the tower, resting his chin on his palm as he silently traces the shape of the crown prince’s shoulders while the prince kisses the girl he is with. It isn’t such a strange occurrence to witness the crown prince in the embrace of young girls under the oak tree by the garden. Somehow, it is the only time where Baekhyun can truly look at the prince and how well he has grown. Despite their wonderful childhood, the crown prince and his tailor no longer spoke to one another once the royal hierarchy was taught.

 

Chanyeol is the crown prince – the king’s first child, cherished by all, for he is the kingdom of spring’s future ruler. Baekhyun is grateful enough to be named as the royal tailor. Perhaps the prince has forgotten about his friendship with the former servant boy. Slumped with the responsibilities of soon becoming the next king, perhaps Chanyeol did not have the time to reminisce the old times.

 

The tailor settles on watching the prince from afar, staring at him from the tower as the prince quietly leads the girl back into the palace with a sly smile, avoiding the guards standing by the gates.

 

“Baekhyun, your eyes look like they will fall off if you stare any longer,” a person utters from behind. Baekhyun swiftly spins around to face the boy who gives him a playful smirk.

 

“Your Highness, you gave me a fright!” Baekhyun smacks the boy by his arm as the boy continues to laugh. “I could have fallen off the tower!”

 

“Stop exaggerating — ouch! And stop hitting me!” the boy exclaims, protecting himself from the tailor’s punches. “I surrender, I surrender!”

 

Baekhyun stops, panting a little harshly as he glares at the other prince. He still has a silly grin on his face, holding onto his arm as he feigns a pained look. “Oh, how could you… I came bearing gifts and cakes for my most favorite person, yet he hurts me…”

 

“Quiet,” Baekhyun says, stubborn, but approaches the prince anyhow. He carefully inspects the second prince’s supposedly injured arm, only to be pulled into the boy’s embrace. “Your Highness!”

 

The son of the royal concubine only continues to laugh loudly as he hugs the tailor, resting his head on Baekhyun’s shoulder as he whispers against his neck. “Happy birthday, Baekhyun.”

 

“Thank you, Your Highness,” he gently pats the child-like prince’s back, then wraps his arms around the younger boy’s waist. “You can let me go now, Sehun.”

 

The prince refuses to release him for quite some time before he smacks the prince’s head lightly and pulls away. When he finally pulls back and takes a long look at the second prince – he realizes how taller the boy grew just after two months of not seeing him when he left the kingdom to train along the king’s knights. Sehun was quite fond of swords and fights, always injuring himself after stealing one of the knight’s swords for him to play.

 

The royal concubine would tend to frown at this matter, but the king, always with a wide smile, would encourage the boy to fight once more. After a spending two years of training, the second prince have returned; age fifteen now, with sharper features and thin hands, but he still has the same glow in his eyes when he looks at the tailor. Baekhyun holds onto the boy’s arms, happy and glad to see him again.

 

“You’re eighteen!” the second prince suddenly realizes, eyes widening. “D-Did you…?”

 

Referring to the mark, the prince wastes no time as he grabs Baekhyun’s wrists and pushes at the sleeves. Baekhyun allows him to do so, showing the fresh mark inked on his left wrist. His face reddens a bit, ashamed at the simple mark but the second prince only continues to stare with his mouth wide opened.

 

“It is hideous, I know…” he mutters, covering the mark with his sleeves once he thinks the prince has been staring for too long. “Truthfully, I do not like it.”

 

“It is gorgeous, Baekhyun.” Sehun replies, brows furrowed, staring down at the tailor in disagreement. “Let me look at it again.”

 

The tailor frowns, shaking his head. The prince doesn’t budge, only insists on seeing the mark again. “Come on now, Baekhyun, let me see.”

 

“Your Highness…” he sighs in defeat, holding out his arm for the prince to take. “It’s just a needle.”

 

“A pretty one, it resembles your most favorite one, Baekhyun.” The prince grins, pressing the pad of his thumb on the mark. With his other hand, he coaxes Baekhyun’s hair gently behind his ear and holds him by his chin. “The needle you had since we were little. Do you remember?”

 

It was the dull silver needle that his mother had given him when the crown prince’s trousers were slightly ripped at his ankle. Baekhyun treasured that particular needle – and as pitiful it sounded, he wept and mourned when the needle slipped out of his fingers when he was younger, falling into a bush full of roses with thorns sharper than his dearest needle. It was childish of him to cherish something so unimportant.

 

“All needles look the same,” he huffs, looking elsewhere when Sehun searches for answers deep in his eyes. Afraid that the prince would see through him if his eyes land on his questioning gaze. “You are being ridiculous, Sehun.”

 

“I am your prince.” The boy suddenly says, with a look that Baekhyun does not quite comprehend.

 

“Of course.” He quickly nods, perplexed with the prince’s sudden change of tone. “I apologize, Your Highness.”

 

The second prince sighs, still caressing Baekhyun’s mark with his thumb. Baekhyun senses the shift of sudden frustration in the atmosphere, so he tries to excuse himself. It is past midnight, after all. But the prince’s strong grip tells him that he should not let go – not when the prince is clearly deep in his thoughts as he gazes at Baekhyun’s soulmate mark.

 

“Just three more years, yes?” Sehun asks and finally releases his wrist. “I will turn eighteen soon… and I will have the same mark carved onto my wrist. Just you see.”

 

“Mind if I remind you that you are a prince, Your Highness. The possibility of you being my soulmate is very unlikely.” Baekhyun simply laughs, reaching up to disarrange the prince’s hair. “Silly boy.”

 

 

 

 

—

 

 

 

 

Just a few hours after dawn, Baekhyun wakes up without his mother sleeping by his side. Usually, he would spend his mornings with his mother and the queen in the flower garden, brushing his mother’s hair as she talks to the queen. He walks towards the balcony where he sees the gardeners are off to pluck bright, ripe strawberries at the farm, and he sees the queen walking with Baekhyun’s mother next to her, hands full of fruit. He feels slightly guilty for waking up so late after spending the night with the second prince who refused to let him go to sleep, but as he watches his mother slowly walking with the guidance of the queen’s maids, Baekhyun grins.

 

He tries to walk by as quietly as he can when he sees the queen and her sons settling into their chairs by the dining table to have breakfast along with the former royal tailor, but he accidentally meets the second prince’s eyes. Trying to blend in with the servants rushing here and there, preparing the grand breakfast, Baekhyun curses in his head as he makes his way to the kitchen, avoiding the boy’s gaze until inevitably, Baekhyun knows he has to stop walking the moment Sehun yells out for him.

 

“Baekhyun! Baekhyun, come and have breakfast with us!” The second prince waves his arms, almost knocking off his glass of orange juice with his elbow.

 

Reminding himself to smack the prince’s head later on, Baekhyun reluctantly spins around, waving back. “Good morning, Your Highness.”

 

“Come here, sit next to me,” the prince coaxes, patting the empty seat beside him to prove a point.

 

Baekhyun takes a glance at the crown prince who pays no heed to his younger brother’s antics, only sips his cup of tea quietly as stares at his plate full of bread. The king, sitting by the end of the table, puts down his newspaper before he greets Baekhyun with a smile.

 

“There you are, lad!” The king’s voice booms throughout the whole dining hall, startling the newly hired servant who tries to pour more tea into the prince’s cup with shaky hands. “Sehun told me that it is your birthday today. Come and join us for breakfast!”

 

Baekhyun bows at the sight of the king, before he shakes his head, politely rejecting the king’s offer. “I would love to, Your Majesty, but I do not wish to interfere with such a wonderful family time.”

 

“Nonsense! You are family to us, too!” The king insists, waving his rolled-up newspaper around. “Tell the servants to bring another plate to the table. It is your birthday after all, we definitely should celebrate!”

 

“If the boy does not want to have breakfast, then let him be, father,” the crown prince finally speaks. Fingers still gripping on his cup of tea, blowing air into it as he lays his eyes on Baekhyun. “There’s no need to make such a fuss over a servant boy. We shall not teach these servants to get so comfortable with their surroundings. It’s not like they belong on this table, anyhow.”

 

“Baekhyun is not a servant,” the queen interrupts with a frown. “He’s the royal tailor, Chanyeol.”

 

The crown prince chuckles. “His title as the royal tailor doesn’t change the fact that he is still below us.”

 

“Yes, I agree with the crown prince. Perhaps next time then, Your Majesty.” Baekhyun says, bowing to the quarreling royal family. When he straightens his back, he sees the crown prince looking at him intently.

 

Baekhyun gives the prince a smile before he waves at Sehun, who seems too disappointed by now, before he excuses himself. Baekhyun ignores Sehun’s bickering with his older brother as he makes his way into the kitchen, stealing a green apple from the basket.  

 

He bites into the sweet but sour delight as he returns to the balcony. The gardeners are no longer there, and Baekhyun is occupied with the sound of the morning wind blowing through cherry blossom trees. He goes deep into his thoughts, picturing the crown prince’s gaze when he degraded Baekhyun in front of the king and the queen.

 

Baekhyun isn’t affected by his words, not at all. He grew up observing the prince and that’s just the way he is. Reserved and cold, but loving and kind when he’s with the right person. Come to think of it, it’s been a while since Baekhyun has seen the prince’s genuine smile…

 

There’s a gentle knock against the French doors and a feigned cough greeting him. In the corner of his eyes, he sees a young servant walking towards him with a graceful bow. Baekhyun immediately smiles upon seeing her, his sullen mood is instantly lifted, especially when he sees her carelessly trying to hide her shy grin behind her palm.

 

“Sir Kim has arrived,” she says, timid and quiet, with her eyes glued on the marbled floors. “He is waiting by his carriage.”

 

“His carriage…? I see,” he nods, “I must say, it is a little bit too early for him to send new rolls of fabrics. He was here just last week. Have we run out of silk?”

 

“N-No, sir… I suppose he came to wish you a happy birthday.”

 

Baekhyun lets out a surprised chuckle. “I doubt he remembers.”

 

“He always does,” she mumbles under her breath.

 

Knowing her for a few years now, Baekhyun becomes used to the fact that Yerim takes quite a long time to appear comfortable in his presence. It bothers him how she refuses to look at him sometimes, though she tends to glance at him when she thinks he does not notice.

 

He tries his best not to seem intimidating because although Baekhyun is the royal tailor and she is merely a girl who scrubs the kitchen floors, it doesn’t change the fact that they used to be friends, back when he, as a child, was scrubbing kitchen floors, too. Baekhyun uses his thumb to wipe off the dirt smudged on her cheek as he thanks her, giving her a smile when she finally looks at him in a startled manner.

 

“Come on now, Yerim.” He looks back when he realizes that the young girl isn’t following him, still standing whilst holding her cheek. “Sir Kim is not going to wait forever. He’s a very impatient man.”

 

She jumps, nodding and runs towards the stairs. “Y-yes sir!”

 

As he laughs, approaching the long curtains, the mark on his wrist pulses; colorless and dim, but he felt it. His smile falters as he stops walking, holding onto his arm.

 

It was there.

 

Even for a split second, it was there – something so foreign, but comfortable and familiar. It is almost as if… he can feel his soulmate’s presence, so close, so warm, but so out of reach. Baekhyun feels the pulsing again. It feels like a single throb of a vein this time, and surprisingly, it makes him laugh.

 

“Is it…” he whispers to himself as he stares at the remaining smudge of dirt on his fingers. “Is it her?”

 

He hears Sir Kim calling out for him when the man finally sees him, frantically waving his arms to capture his attention, but Baekhyun stands frozen, trying to get a glimpse of Yerim’s wrist. It could be her – it must be her. It would make more sense if it is her. He can almost imagine it. How easy things will be if this girl is his soulmate. He felt something in her presence, although mere and subtle, he wants to know if she felt it too. There’s a possibility that the servant has a similar mark inked onto her left wrist as well.

 

He runs after her, snatching her arm with an iron grip as he pulls her back. Yerim spins around with a gasp, holding onto his shoulders when she almost slips down the flight of stairs. She does not dare to say a word as he stares at her in frustration. Standing so close like this, with his hand around her wrist, yet the mark on his wrist no longer pulses. It doesn’t throb like his steady heartbeat, and this further confuses him.

 

“Is it not you?” he asks, “But... I felt it.”

 

“Baekhyun!” Sir Kim yells from afar, stomping his feet as he points his cane towards the tailor. “I am a very busy man! Hurry up now, boy!”

 

Upon hearing the old man’s grunt, Baekhyun finally lets the girl go with much hesitance. He dashes over to Sir Kim, completely missing the sight of the crown prince lurking behind the curtain, a frown on his face as he curiously spies on the tailor and the servant’s odd interaction.

 

Once the royal tailor is out of sight, the prince finally walks out from hiding, startling the servant. She staggers upon seeing the crown prince, blubbering excuses and apologies out of before he raises his hand with a stern look.

 

“Get back to work.”

 

Yerim quickly nods, glancing at the prince for a while before she runs away.

 

As the servant walks away, the crown prince leans against the wall, palm pressed on his frantically beating heart.

 

 

 

 

—

 

 

 

 

The tailor grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head when he sees Sir Kim’s unamused reaction. The old man grabs his cane and lightly smacks the boy’s hip, earning a pained cry and a fit of laughter afterwards. Baekhyun continues to ask for mercy, apologizing to the old man in a playful manner, crouching while protecting his hip with his hands until the man finally stops, and allows Baekhyun to pull him into a gentle hug.

 

“I’ve missed you, old man.” Baekhyun says, patting him on his back.

 

Sir Kim has always been a father figure to him. After his father passed away, Baekhyun only could depend on Sir Kim and the man was more than happy to accept him with open arms. He might be a little cranky at times, Baekhyun thinks with a smile as he sees the man blabbering on and on, swinging his wooden cane here and there, scolding Baekhyun for wasting his time.  

 

“What is so fascinating about a mere servant’s face that took you so long to notice me, hmm?” the elderly man teases, nudging Baekhyun with his elbow. “For a moment there, I thought I was invisible.”

 

“I simply told her to run a few errands, dad,” he smoothly lies, gazing away from the older man.

 

“You can fool anyone else, but not me, young man.” Sir Kim gives him a judgmental stare before his chapped lips wrinkle into a small smile. “Happy birthday, son.”

 

“Thank you,” Baekhyun gently returns a genuine smile. “It is just any other normal day for me. Nothing too special.”

 

“Well, it is special, now that you’ve turned eighteen.” The man tilts his head gently on one side. “You’ve got a mark now. That is something special, no?”

 

Baekhyun pulls on his sleeves to reveal the black ink engraved on his wrist, dark and dull, before he covers it again, ashamed.

 

“It’s a needle. I don’t like it. I was expecting a flower, or… or a star. I like stars.” He tries to make a reasonable complaint. It comes out as an ungrateful whine.  

 

“Your mark describes you. It is who you are,” Sir Kim pats him on his cheek. “Don’t worry, boy. You will eventually fall in love with it once you discover its capability and how powerful it really is. Our soulmate marks truly affect our lives… sometimes drastically.” 

 

“Good, now you’re just terrifying me,” he rolls his eyes. “I know you aren’t just here to wish me a happy birthday, especially when you’re wearing such a decent outfit, old man. Is that tweed?”

 

“He came with a ing carriage, too. I was too embarrassed to be riding a horse, so I just drove here, like a normal person would.” A sarcastic laugh interrupts their conversation. Baekhyun spins around to see his old friend walking towards them with his arms wide open, as if he already knew Baekhyun will run into his embrace once their eyes meet.

 

“Language!” Sir Kim yells.

 

“Junmyeon!” Baekhyun exclaims, almost toppling over when he dashes towards the man in the white suit, hugging him. “I can’t believe it’s you!”

 

“It’s been so long, little brother.” Sir Kim’s son, Junmyeon, smiles. “You’ve grown so well, almost growing taller than me. That’s upsetting.”

 

“You’re not that tall to begin with,” Baekhyun playfully whispers to the man, glancing at Sir Kim as he purposely teases him. “We know who to blame for that.”

 

Junmyeon laughs loudly, patting the tailor on his head as he looks at him affectionately. “I’ve missed you so much. Dad and I rarely laugh when you’re not around. Our lives were dull.”

 

Baekhyun’s smile falters for a while as his hand grips onto the man’s arm. After Sir Kim’s wife passed away, Junmyeon rarely got out of the house. He only focused on his job and taking over his father’s company. Baekhyun can still see the pain dwelling in the man’s eyes, even when he flashes the sweetest smile.

 

“I’m just glad my big brother is back. You look healthier, too.” Baekhyun pinches the man’s cheek. “Where’s my birthday present?”

 

Junmyeon pauses, looking a little panicked. “What birthday present?”

 

“Seriously?” Baekhyun pinches the man’s cheek a little harsher. “Judging from your fancy car over here, I thought you would’ve brought a fancier gift for me… But you just forgot, huh?”

 

“We’d never forget,” Sir Kim says. “Just wait and see.”

 

“I want a car.” Baekhyun deadpans.

 

Junmyeon pushes his head before he makes his way towards the palace’s entrance. “Don’t push it, kid.”

 

Baekhyun chuckles, running to the man’s side again. “You still haven’t told me why you guys are here and why dad came with a horse-drawn carriage.”

 

“He’s here to see the king, of course,” Junmyeon replies, waving towards the king’s guards standing by the door. “That’s why he’s wearing tweed. You know how the king likes old-fashioned stuff.”

 

“Tell me about it,” Baekhyun mutters quietly. “Feels like I’m living in the 60’s whenever I step into this palace.”

 

“Yeah, because it’s so hard living in a palace with a king who adores you,” Junmyeon says, purposely walking even faster when he sees the king walking down the stairs, leaving Baekhyun behind.

 

Baekhyun pouts, glaring at the man. “When did he get so sarcastic?”

 

“I suppose he got that part from me, too,” Sir Kim chuckles lightly. “Come on, boy. I can’t keep His Majesty entertained without you by my side.”

 

Baekhyun sighs dejectedly, knowing that he would have no option but to accompany Sir Kim and Junmyeon in their little meeting with the king and the queen. As he walks ahead, he sees the crown prince standing by the king’s side, with his usual deep frown on his face.

 

It’s quite odd to see the prince so often in the span of a few hours. Known to be slightly rebellious, the prince would’ve never participate in the king’s meetings, especially when it comes to upcoming events, unless the king himself forces the prince to do so. Too deep in his thoughts, the royal tailor doesn’t notice that Junmyeon and Sir Kim have already entered the meeting room, leaving him outside, staring at the crown prince.

 

“Servants are not allowed to enter.” The prince says, relentless gaze boring into his eyes.

 

“I wasn’t planning to enter,” Baekhyun bites back, glancing around to see if any of the bodyguards heard him.

 

Chanyeol’s eyebrows furrow as he crosses his arms, slowly getting closer to him. “Then leave.”

 

“That is what I’m about to do.” Baekhyun raises his head high, glaring back at the prince.

 

The prince is about to speak when one of the king’s bodyguards peek his head out of the door, startled when he sees the crown prince and the royal tailor glaring at each other.

 

“Uh…” The guard pauses. “The king wishes to see both the crown prince and the royal tailor.”

 

Chanyeol slowly turns to look at the tailor again, this time with a sharper glare.

 

“This isn’t over yet.”

 

Baekhyun swears that he felt a jab of fear jolting down his spine as he watches the prince walk into the meeting room with a scowl, shoving the bodyguard away while he’s at it. The guard winces slightly before he tries to pull Baekhyun into the room as well just when Baekhyun wants to escape.

 

“Baekhyun, please.” The guard whines with pleading eyes. “I don’t want the king to have my head on his plate tonight.”

 

“Stop exaggerating, Jongin,” Baekhyun scoffs, pushing the guard away before he slams the door on the man’s face.

 

When he turns around, his eyes meet the prince’s sharp ones once again, and Baekhyun takes in a deep breath before putting on the sweetest smile when he faces the king.

 

“Father, if I may,” the prince starts to speak, still staring at Baekhyun who stands frozen by the door. “I do not understand why you insist on inviting this… imbecile to our confidential discussion.”

 

The king grunts, glaring at his own son. “Chanyeol, I will pretend that you did not say that. Baekhyun, come and take a seat.”

 

Baekhyun tries to hide his grin behind his palm before he coughs, secretly sticking his tongue out to the prince before he takes a seat beside the king.

 

“He just stuck his tongue out to me!” Chanyeol shouts, pointing towards the royal tailor in disbelief.

 

“I was simply coughing, Your Highness,” Baekhyun replies quietly. “I apologize if it bothered you.”

 

“It’s okay, Baekhyun.” The king assures gently, patting him on his shoulder. “Chanyeol, stop it this instant. You are almost turning eighteen, you should act like a grown man. A true prince.”

 

Chanyeol’s mouth hangs open as he looks at the king. “But I did not—”

 

“No, Your Majesty, I can absolutely leave,” Baekhyun feigns sickness, pressing his hand to his forehead as he tries to escape. “Please, do begin the discussion without me.”

 

“I’m afraid this particular discussion requires the royal tailor to be present at all times for the upcoming event,” Junmyeon suddenly says, flipping through pages and pages of black files. He doesn’t spare a glance to Baekhyun as he continues, “After all, it is the most important event of the year for the Kingdom of Spring.”

 

“The crown prince’s coming of age ceremony,” Sir Kim continues, showing Baekhyun an encouraging smile. “We have a few months to prepare for it. Baekhyun will manage to get the clothes ready before the ceremony. We have all seen him work before.”

 

Baekhyun’s eyes widen as he glances at the prince who seems equally surprised at the older man’s words. The prince rises out of his seat, face reddening with shame as he slams his hand onto the table.

 

“This is ridiculous!” Chanyeol yells. “Father, I do not want to tolerate this. This… This servant can’t be the one who manages my clothes. I would look like a mad man!”

 

Baekhyun’s hands tremble in anger, listening to the words being carelessly thrown at him, but he knows that this is just one of the prince’s many tantrums. The ones someone has when they are too privileged to realize the worthiness of the things they truly own.

 

He’s pulled out of his trance too soon when he hears the king laughing quietly, resting his arms on the table. The king pulls a single golden thread out of the inner part of his sleeves, twisting it in between his fingers before he snaps a long length of the thin thread out.

 

“This,” the king says, staring at the thread as he holds it up for the prince to see. “This single thread is worth thousands. Every single inch of fabric covering my skin… worth millions. Those high-end clothing brands that I tend to see you wear, and that… horrible suit you are wearing right now… Their prices are equivalent to this little part on the hem of my sleeves.”

 

Baekhyun swallows the lump in his throat, shivering when he hears the king’s cold tone.

 

“This boy,” the king points to the royal tailor while he stares at the silent prince. He tugs onto his sleeves. “He made these.”

 

Chanyeol remains quiet.

 

“His gifted fingers are worth more than four dozen of all of those high-end clothes combined.” The king says. “And yet you fret about looking like a mad man under his care.”

 

 

 

 

—

 

 

 

 

 

He doesn’t dare look anywhere else except his measuring tape and the marbled floor. Baekhyun masks his nervousness behind a professional façade as he measures the crown prince’s broad shoulders. From his peripheral vision, he sees the prince staring at him silently as he jots down the measurements on his notepad. Baekhyun clears his throat, distracting himself with numbers before he realizes that he has yet to measure the prince’s hips.

 

Judging from the look in the crown prince’s eyes, Baekhyun knows that Chanyeol is beyond irked with his presence, especially here in his own chamber.

 

He tries to make it quick by hastily wrapping the tape around the prince’s waist, knocking his head against the prince’s chin in the process. Chanyeol curses out loud, pushing the tailor away out of reflex and holds onto his chin, grunting.

 

“Your Highness! I’m so sorry!” He apologizes, rubbing his own head as he winces. “I was just… about to take the measurements of your hips, I didn’t realize—sorry.”

 

Chanyeol glares at him once more, clenching his jaw. “This must be a joke to you, mustn’t it?”

 

He shakes his head, measuring tape tangled in between his fingers as he waves his hands. “No, absolutely not, my prince.”

 

The prince stares at him in silence, still breathing heavily out of impatience and anger. He then steps forward, closer to the tailor, cocking his head to his left as he smirks.

 

“I remember you, you know,” the prince chuckles darkly. “Little Baekhyunnie playing at the garden with the young crown prince. Adored by everyone, especially the king.”

 

Baekhyun flinches, taking a step back. He doesn’t expect the prince to remember him, and even if he does, he figured that the prince would’ve treated him nicer since they were supposed to be… friends. But there are no traces of a smile in his thin lips, only a look that Baekhyun can’t quiet comprehend.

 

“I want to remind you that you are nothing but a mere servant in our eyes. I did not understand why my father insists on being so kind to you, but now I think I do.” Chanyeol laughs, placing his hand on Baekhyun’s shoulder. “It’s because you’re pitiful. He feels sorry for you. You and your pathetic mother have no other place to stay if the king ever throws you away. That’s just sad, isn’t it?”

 

Baekhyun feels the air getting knocked out of his chest as his knees buckle. He only watches as the prince laughs lightly, throwing his head back as his laughter becomes louder.

 

“You should be thankful that the kingdom is still under my father’s care,” Chanyeol smirks. “Because once I get the throne, I will make sure that you and your mother will never see this palace ever again.”

 

Baekhyun frowns. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

 

The prince blinks, startled. “Excuse me?”

 

 “I’d like to think that I’ve earned the title as the royal tailor. I was a servant, yes, but now…” Baekhyun returns a similar smirk, tilting his head up to get a closer look of the prince. “Like the king said, my fingers are worth thousands, so even if you were to throw my mother and I out of this palace, I think we will be just fine.”

 

“You…”

 

“I’m not intimidated by you, my prince.” The tailor smiles as he grabs his notepad and measuring tape, making his way to the door. “We used to be friends, remember?”

 

He slams the door on his way out, panicking deep inside. He leans against the closed door, slapping his face as he panics. His heart threatens to jump out of his chest no matter how many times he tries to calm himself. Baekhyun mutters a curse under his breath, biting his lips. He spoke so impolitely to the crown prince, and judging from the look on the prince’s face, Baekhyun is sure that his actions are not going to be forgiven anytime soon, especially if the crown prince ends up complaining about his behavior to the king.

 

“I’m going to die.” Baekhyun whispers, doomed. He runs towards end of the hall before anyone can see him having a mental breakdown outside of Chanyeol’s bedroom, smacking his own head as he scolds himself. “This is it. I am going to die. The crown prince hates me and he’s going to get me killed. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.”

 

How could he be so stupid, carelessly throwing around disrespectful words like that to a prince? The crown prince is always known for his close relationship with the king, so despite it all, in the end, of course the king will choose to defend the prince if said prince ever confesses about his argument with Baekhyun during his clothes-fitting session.

 

Baekhyun does not mind if the king is ever upset with him, but the victim of it all will be his mother. Of course, his mother will be the one on the receiving end of the sword, and Baekhyun simply took the risk of his mother possibly being kicked out of the palace just because he was offended by the prince’s hurtful words.

 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Baekhyun chants, hitting his own forehead again and again. “Mind your words, Byun Baekhyun. You might as well just sew both your lips together.”

 

Once he reaches his room, he sighs when he sees his mother taking a nap on the small bed. He hasn’t talked to her all day because of the strange occurrences that happened earlier today. He feels guilt tugging onto his gut as he takes a seat on the bed beside her, running his fingers through her thin hair. Baekhyun sighs as thousands of consequences and possibilities run inside his head, none of which are decent.

 

He’s going to have to apologize to the crown prince tomorrow morning despite his pride. Despite what he proudly retorted to the prince, Baekhyun knows that he can’t afford being thrown out of the palace. Not for now.

 

He sighs in warm delight when his head hits the soft pillow. He’s exhausted from running around in the palace. Somehow, it feels like being a child again, bickering with the crown prince every minute of the day. Except now, the prince actually despises him, unlike how he used to be in the past.

 

As his eyelids flutter close for a quick nap, Baekhyun sees the prince’s smile imprinted in his mind. A smile that he rarely sees and will probably never get to see up close, with deep dimples on rosy cheeks.

 

Underneath it all, Baekhyun knows that he will always adore the young prince, no matter if it’s his cheerful childhood friend or the frowning crown prince, the future heir of the king’s throne.

 

 

 

 

 

—

 

 

 

 

 

He’s awakened again by midnight, startled by the sound of tree branches rattling against the windowpane. Baekhyun sits up on the bed, glancing at his mother who is still sound asleep beside him. He stretches his arms out as he makes his way to the door, gently walking out of the room, careful not to wake the older woman up. The guards standing outside of his room nods in acknowledgement when they see him, as if they were already expecting him to sneak out of his room in the middle of the night just to visit the tower again.

 

Sometimes Baekhyun considers dragging his pillow along when he walks up to the tower. It’s windier up there, with a breathtaking view of the city and if he’s lucky enough, he gets to see the crown prince and his sly smile as he leads yet another young lady into the small chapel by the flower garden. Standing on the top floor of that tower gives him tranquility that his room could not provide. He is free of stressful thoughts when he’s there, just leaning against the railing, staring at the glinting stars.

 

But tonight, it seems like the thoughts in his head gets louder and louder until Baekhyun isn’t able to think all together. He knows he should be working on the crown prince’s suit for his coming of age ceremony due just a few months from now – he still doesn’t know what kind of fabric he wants to use, still hasn’t told his staffs and helpers what to do in order to prepare for the ceremony.

 

Usually, when he’s alone at the tower, it seems like he has all the time that he could ever need. Free from all burden and workload. He finds himself thinking of the things that shouldn’t have even bothered him, but inevitably, they do, because he just wants to know why.

 

Why did his heart beat so fast when he was with Yerim earlier that morning? His mark pulsated against his vein and as terrifying as it sounds, Baekhyun craves to experience it once again. To feel the mark beating in synchronization with his heart, to feel his pulse quickening up like he has never felt so alive before. To feel his soulmate’s presence, near to him. Warm and secure, it doesn’t matter who it will be.

 

The needle-shaped mark inked on his wrist still remains black, but it’s alive. Baekhyun can feel it against the thin layer of his skin. And if he’s this content just to feel his soulmate mark coming alive, he doesn’t know how he will react if his mark ever colors. The thought of him actually having a soulmate, someone by his side, whether if it’s platonically or romantically, it feels surreal. He has heard of his mother and the queen talking about it, the feeling of having a soulmate and how beautiful it truly is.

 

Baekhyun, despite being young, wanted to experience it too. He counted the days to finally turn eighteen and see the mark etched on his wrist. Now, even with the mark already on his skin, he still feels empty, having to start counting the days for his soulmate to appear. He just hopes it’s someone he already knows. Perhaps any of the guards, or even Yerim…

 

He is loss of his train of thoughts when he hears a fit of feminine laughter coming from behind. Baekhyun flinches when he sees a pair of lovers, perhaps the palace guard and the maid, walking towards him, but they are yet to notice him, for their lips are still attached to each other. They giggle against each other’s mouths, holding one another in their arms. When they pull away, Baekhyun makes his presence known when he coughs softly, staring at the floor, embarrassed.

 

“The tower is kind of occupied,” he scratches the back of his head, with his gaze still planted on the floor, even when he hears the girl shrieking when she notices him. “There’s uh… an empty room near the general study room, if you want to… you know. I won’t tell the king or anything.”

 

“Yes, the tower is occupied.”

 

Baekhyun raises his head to see the crown prince scowling in his way, arms still wrapped around the girl beside him.

 

Chanyeol rolls his eyes. “And I expect you to leave.”

 

Baekhyun’s mouth gapes as he stares at the prince and the familiar girl staring back at him. Their faces are burning red, he can’t determine if it’s from embarrassment or arousal, but then again, he doesn’t really want to know.

 

“I was here first.” He blurts out, almost cursing out loud when he realizes that he’s starting to argue with the prince again, all in the span of hours and hours. “I don’t want to leave, this is my usual spot.”

 

The blushing girl jabs her elbow to the prince’s side, mumbling. “Chanyeol, the boy is right. Let’s go somewhere else.”

 

“No,” the prince says. “I want him to leave.”

 

Baekhyun ignores the prince, opting on taking a closer look at the girl he is with. He keeps mum as he stares at her glassy hazel eyes and confused frown; he’s seen her somewhere. The girl with autumn brown hair, fooling around with the stupid crown prince in the flower garden. The girl who he sees at certain ceremonies and events that took place in the palace a few years before.

 

Something clicks in his head when he realizes who she is. Baekhyun smiles gently, giving her a small wave. “Hello, princess.”

 

She gasps lightly, covering her face with her hands. “You know who I am?”

 

“I have seen you here and there, Your Highness. The heiress of the Kingdom of Fall.” Baekhyun grins. “Don’t be scared. I won’t tell anyone that you’re here.”

 

“The servant is right for once, Joohyun. Don’t be scared of him.” Chanyeol interrupts them with an arrogant huff. “He’s just the floor-scrubber.”

 

“With fingers that are worth more than your entire massive closet, yes,” Baekhyun playfully grins, fingers twinkling in the air.

 

He sees the princess peeking through the gaps of her fingers, shy, before she slowly reveals her face again. Her hands fall to her sides, and Baekhyun catches the way Chanyeol is swift to hold her hand in his once again. He approaches the princess and takes her other hand, pressing a gentle kiss on her knuckles before he flashes her a toothy grin.

 

“It’s nice to finally see you so up close and personal like this, it’s truly an honor.” He says, glancing at the prince whose face distorts with rage. “My name is Byun Baekhyun, the royal tailor.”

 

Recognition lights up in her eyes before she shakes his hands, excitement evident in her bright smile. “Ah, it’s you! You must be the son of Lady Yoon! I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you.”

 

Baekhyun blinks, slightly surprised that a well-known princess actually acknowledges his existence. “Really?”

 

“That’s enough,” Chanyeol pulls the princess closer to him, as if shielding her away from him. “Servant boy, I expect you to leave this instant. The king would certainly not be pleased if he finds out that you have been lurking around in the palace. Who knows if you’ve actually stolen something while everyone else was asleep?”

 

Baekhyun swears that he can almost see the prince’s nose flaring when he’s yelling so furiously like that. It’s not a decent sight to look at, and it irks him listening to the prince while he degrades him again, this time right in front of a confused princess.

 

“I suppose the king wouldn’t be pleased if he finds out that the crown prince has been canoodling with girls in the middle of the night either, would he…?” He challenges.

 

His conscience has been urging him to apologize to the prince, but each time Baekhyun faces the boy, guilt and common sense fly out the window. Just because this boy is a prince, it doesn’t mean that Baekhyun would have to obey every single thing he orders him to do. Especially when his demands come with sharp insults.

 

Chanyeol clenches his fists as he narrows his eyes. “Are you threatening me?”

 

“I am simply stating the truth.” Baekhyun huffs. “I was here first, so I won’t leave just because you told me to. Besides, the queen knows that this is my favorite spot in the palace. Even if you told the king, I don’t think he would mind. I’m not harming anybody.”

 

“Fine. I don’t have to sit here and waste my time dealing with you, do I?” Chanyeol stomps his foot, dragging the yelping princess with him. He stops for a moment to think before he spins around and marches towards the puzzled tailor. “If you say a word about this to anyone, especially the king, I will shove you out of this palace in a blink of an eye. Is that clear?”

 

“Crystal clear, Your Highness.” Baekhyun winks, specifically to the princess beside him as he waves. “Very glad that we had this talk! I’ll see you again soon, princess!”

 

“Stop talking to my girlfriend!” Chanyeol tries to yell in a soft voice, trying to not attract attention. It makes Baekhyun laugh to know that he is the cause of the prince’s constant panicking.

 

As the prince storms away, making a turn to his left with the princess by his side, Baekhyun takes a glimpse at the princess’ wrist, where a diamond-shaped mark shines an emerald green, so vibrant and obvious. His grin falters for a moment as he realizes that the princess has a soulmate mark, so beautiful that he envies it for a short moment. The mark proves that she is older than the crown prince, perhaps just by a few months, or a year. He doesn’t exactly know what the color that shone on her wrist meant, but he has a feeling in his gut telling him that she could possibly be the prince’s soulmate.

 

Perhaps that’s why they seem so perfect together. Baekhyun has heard a lot about the Kingdom of Fall and how beautiful the kingdom is, especially when sunset arrives. He’s heard about the kingdom’s intelligent, brave, one and only princess, listened to the guards’ coos and gushing praises when they see her on the news, like that one time when she donated to an entire orphanage; or when she was seen volunteering at a home for the elderly. He’s heard plenty about her. He just doesn’t think that the crown prince actually deserves her.

 

Not with that kind of attitude, he thinks bitterly. She deserves better.

 

Once he is completely sure that the prince and his lover are far out of sight, Baekhyun sighs, unable to stay at that tower any longer. He came to be free of his thoughts, but he ended up dwelling on insignificant matters, especially regarding to the crown prince. He doesn’t know why his presence bothers the prince so much, and truthfully, he’s quite offended by it. The king and the queen adore him, even the royal concubine does, too, so why does Chanyeol hate him so much?

 

He would have been less confused if the second prince is the one who dislikes him, but that’s not the case. Sehun is beyond attached to him to the extent where Baekhyun would sometimes have to purposely avoid the younger prince, especially when he won’t stop smothering him. But Baekhyun and Chanyeol grew up together, and according to the prince said before, he remembers being friends with him, so why does Baekhyun’s entire existence irk him?

 

Baekhyun isn’t hurt by this. He’s more baffled than upset. Considering their friendship during their childhood, the prince and him should have gotten even closer as they grow up, but they fell apart, and Baekhyun can’t come up with reasons as to why they no longer address each other as friends usually would.

 

He returns to his room where he finds his mother sitting on a small wooden stool, humming to an old song as she lights up a scented candle on the bedside table. He stops by the door, surprised to see her so wide awake especially at a time like this. It was almost two in the morning by the time he left the tower. These days, he rarely sees his mother staying up at night like she used to when he was younger, always in a great mood when dusk came, it meant that she had all the time in the world to herself; to sit in front of her favorite sewing machine, fingertips pressing against fabric.

 

She seems more and more exhausted as days go by. His mother doesn’t talk about it, but he knows that her knees have been in pain for a while and she’s not too strong to walk by herself, always needing a companion to lead her way. Now, seeing her padding slowly from the corner of the small room to the bed, it sends warmth down his shoulders, but the warmth disappears as fast as it came; he also feels overwhelming guilt because he knows that she’s aware of the fact that he is the royal tailor now, thus the mother and son can barely see each other.

 

“Do you plan on standing there forever, Baekhyun?” she asks without having to turn around to acknowledge his sudden presence. He can almost hear the smile in her small voice.

 

“I was anxious thinking that you’d be angry when you realize that I snuck out to the tower again.” Baekhyun replies truthfully, tapping his foot lightly on the floor. “I don’t want to risk getting smacked in the head again.”

 

His mother laughs as she shakes her head, assuring him that she is nowhere near furious. He smiles, taking a seat on the bed, watching as she lights up another candle, this time placing it on his study table near the door. When she turns to see him, she takes his face in her hands, pinching both his cheeks. “At this point, I’m no longer surprised if you were to drag the bed up to the tower for you to sleep on. I’m too exhausted to be angry at you for sneaking out of the room when I know you will eventually still do the same thing.”

 

Baekhyun chuckles. “That’s true.”

 

“You should get some sleep, Baekhyun. I know you’re as tired as I am,” she urges.

 

He yawns before he nods in agreement. Getting some sleep really sounds like the best thing to do now and there is no one to stop him. No guards forcing him to enter meeting rooms, no clothes to sew, no prince to argue with; all of those will return tomorrow, so for now, all he wants to do is close his eyes and fall asleep to the sound of his mother’s soft hums.

 

“Ma…” he whispers. “What does it mean if someone’s mark is jade green?”

 

His mother is quite surprised by the sudden question, but she doesn’t waste her time answering him. Quietly, she pats his hair with gentle , slightly combing the brown locks with her trembling fingers.

 

“Green can sometimes be taken as envy, but usually, it is great longing.” She answers. “It portrays feelings that are acknowledged, but are also pushed away.”

 

Baekhyun stares up at his mother, confused, silently demanding a simpler explanation as she traces her hand on his mark.

 

“It represents unrequited love,” she murmurs with a solemn look. “And I would never want you to experience such thing.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

ii.

 

 

 

 

 

The marbled floors are immediately wet when he steps out of the bathtub, the scented water dripping alongside the red rose petals. The maids hustle against each other as they try to wipe at his body, keeping up with his pace as he makes his way to the indoor closet. Chanyeol chuckles lightly at the sight of the numerous, expensive suits surrounding him. The sight of black and white in his enormous closet is starting to bore him by now, his whole room so dull and tedious. Somehow for some people who don’t know him, they think it reflects who he is.

 

The cold, boring ice prince, Chanyeol almost laughs. What a load of bull.

 

He allows the maids to suffocate him with layers and layers of clothing as he stands, staring at himself in the mirror. The nickname they tend to call him isn’t necessarily false; he is a dull, boring prince – but these people don’t seem to realize that they gave him that name. He grew up listening to whispers and blatant lies being spread around him, describing who he was before he could even decide of who to become.

 

The king’s beloved first son, the heir of the throne, the adored little sun. The boy who ran and ran in the meadow, sunflowers in his hair, the disobedient child of the queen. The strange prince who doesn’t seem to acknowledge who he truly is – the heir who is rather ignorant of his royal title. The one who has disappointed the king even before he could have the chance of growing up to understand the true meaning of becoming a prince.

 

The king and the queen loved him, he knew that, but he also knew that he’s somehow not what they have expected to be the first prince. The entire Kingdom of Spring was fed with stories of the beloved prince and how the king treasured him, showered him with affection to no end, but what he had experienced throughout his life was beyond different than what the people have been told; he’s seen the look of pity in his mother’s eyes before. The disappointment on his father’s shoulders every time he looks at him.

 

The young prince with a heart too soft – flinching at the sight of a single blade and running away when he heard the slightest sound of terror coming towards the kingdom. The one who spent his time drawing and playing in the flower garden, trying to impress his father by showing him his useless talents. Chanyeol has heard and seen it all, how they truly look at him.

 

By the time the second prince was born, he was overshadowed. For once, he was thankful that the negative attention wasn’t on him anymore, but when Sehun came, the king was surprisingly… happy. Despite the child being the royal concubine’s son, everyone was more than happy to celebrate the birth of the second prince.

 

Chanyeol was just a boy back then, barely four. But he remembered. He remembered it all – he grew up watching people shower his little brother with attention and praises; peeked his head out of the small window, watching as the queen and the royal concubine coo over the little prince’s adorable antics, having to witness the king’s cold demeanor melting away when he laid his eyes on the second prince. Having been ignored when he tried to show his brand-new drawing to his father. Chanyeol remembers it all.

 

The true prince that we have been waiting for, they said. The prince who grew up with a dream to become a leader and a warrior, surrounded himself with the king’s knights, an enthusiast when it comes to fighting for his kingdom. Yet Chanyeol still opted on sitting alone by the flower garden, plucking more sunflowers to put in his hair. The king and the queen would barely notice whenever he was gone, despite the fact that he was too young to stray away.

 

Isolating himself just outside the barn, always cowering when some of the goats try to approach him. If he was the second prince, he would’ve bravely defended himself then, with the stupid wooden sword that Sehun used to carry around and hit people with. But Chanyeol wasn’t anywhere as courageous as the younger prince. He only cowered in fear, tugging his drawing book to his chest, wishing that he could be left alone for once.

 

Being alone gave him comfort. He was nine by then, and he preferred to sit by himself rather than watch his parents showering his little brother with affection that Chanyeol once had to beg for.

 

But that day, behind that barn, Chanyeol wasn’t alone. He only watched in awe as another boy came and ran towards the goats, shooing them off with his piercing shriek. Chanyeol would always remember this boy – mud on his cheek, smile on his face and dull needles deep in his pockets. He reached his hand out for Chanyeol to take and gave him a gentle smile – something that Chanyeol rarely saw. Something that no one was willing to give to him because they assumed that he didn’t deserve it.

 

Snatched out of his daydream, Chanyeol jolts at the sound of laughter coming from outside. He slips away from his maids, walking towards his window, buttoning up his shirt as he stares at the pair of boys chasing after each other under the morning sun. He watches as Baekhyun childishly shoves the second prince away when he tries to get closer. Chanyeol gently tugs onto the curtain, a frown present on his face when he sees the king and queen watching the two boys as they have breakfast outside.

 

“Seems like they forgot to invite me for breakfast again,” the crown prince murmurs to himself. “Even the stupid servant tailor is there with them.”

 

Chanyeol gazes at the way Sehun holds onto Baekhyun when he finally catches him, whispering something in his ear that made the tailor let out a bubbly laugh. They return to the table where the king and the queen await them with matching grins, rewarding the two with pats on their shoulders. He watches as Baekhyun takes a seat next to the second prince, clinking teacups playfully while the tailor erupts in a fit of bright laughter once more, the nostalgic sound of it pulling out a cherished memory in Chanyeol’s mind.

 

Chanyeol grew up with the former royal tailor’s son by his side. He stopped isolating himself just to be friends with the cheerful boy who didn’t have to do much to steal the king and the queen’s attention, not when they already adored Lady Yoon in the first place. Baekhyun became someone who he always turned to whenever he felt like he was being shoved away. He long abandoned his drawing book, always preferred to run around with the little servant, plucking sunflowers petals in their hair, nudging old Lady Yoon when she tried to focus on sewing.

 

“Even the royal tailor’s son is better than him,” he’s heard the king say once. Twice. Too many times for him to bear to listen anymore. “Loyal, brave, ambitious. But what does our first son have?”

 

Even Baekhyun is better than him – more qualified to be called a crown prince. But Chanyeol didn’t mind, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Young Chanyeol adored the royal tailor’s son. But now, as time went by, as they grew up, Chanyeol couldn’t help but realize that everyone else turned out to be the same after all. Everyone would end up growing tired of the crown prince, discovering fun and excitement with the second prince instead.

 

Chanyeol grew helpless when he saw Baekhyun slowly becoming attached to the second prince, ditching Chanyeol and his little drawings to play with Sehun’s wooden swords.

 

In the end, all of them ended up leaving him alone again.

 

Chanyeol didn’t bother to spend his time alone by the barn or plucking sunflower petals anymore. He knew that if he did, he would end up being forgotten away. Never once did Baekhyun come to look for him, despite how long he waited for the little servant to play with him again.

 

The crown prince laughs slightly, fixing his watch on his wrist. He can’t believe something so insignificant from the past affected him so much until he’s fully grown up. He isn’t the “dull, ice prince” because people were too scared to approach him due to his arrogance. Chanyeol just doesn’t know how to approach people again, knowing that they have the full potential to hurt him again.

 

He makes his way downstairs where the servants wait for him by the dining room. Chanyeol sees platters of food arranged on one side of the massive dining table, a full breakfast served just for him. One of the servants pull out a chair for him, too intimidated to look at him in the eye. The whole dining room seems lonely and quiet, but he can still hear the sound of the king and the second prince laughing just outside.

 

“Why is my breakfast served here?” he questions. “The rest of them are outside, aren’t they?”

 

“T-The king assumed that you wouldn’t be pleased if you were to have breakfast outside, Your Highness,” the servant stutters. “But if you prefer to have breakfast outside as well, I-I can bring—”

 

“It’s fine, I was simply asking.” Chanyeol shakes his head, taking a seat. “It is too hot outside today, and I don’t want to have my breakfast with the royal tailor by my side, anyway. I’m fine just eating right here.”

 

The servant doesn’t seem too entirely convinced, but she nods frantically, wiping at her white apron. “Very well, Your Highness. Please enjoy your meal.”

 

The servants rushed out of the dining room without any words, leaving the crown prince alone to stare at his meal. He can still hear his family having a cheerful conversation with the royal tailor outside, along with the sound of cutlery clinking against plates, but they sound distant and far, extremely out of his reach.

 

Chanyeol silently grabs a single slice of toast, taking a gentle bite of it as he stares ahead. Being alone is something he’s too familiar with. Once again, the crown prince is isolated from his own family. This time, he doesn’t bother to care anymore. He has already taught himself that loneliness is just something that he has to face inevitably.

 

He tries to convince himself that loneliness isn’t as bad as he remembered it to be. In fact, he prefers the piercing silence now. No one is willing to engage in a simple conversation with him unless truly necessary. Not a sight of servants suffocating him with questions regarding to his comfort and no sight of the servant boy with mud on his cheek and bright smile on his face, holding his hand out for Chanyeol to take.

 

He will be okay.

 

 

 

 

—

 

 

 

 

 

“Again.”

 

Chanyeol grunts in frustration, throwing his head back. He swears, he’s one dance away from smashing a vase on this old hag’s face. Sehun seems as exhausted as he is – even their waltzing partners look like they need a ten-hour sleep from all the practicing they have been doing since last week. Just a few hours ago, the young girls were more than excited to be dancing with the two princes as preparation from the grand ceremony that will take place in this exact ballroom in just a few days.

 

“I don’t get why I have to participate in this stupid ballroom dancing when I’m not the one who’s going to turn eighteen,” Sehun grumbles, still holding his partner by her waist.

 

Chanyeol rolls his eyes as he listens to his little brother’s endless complaints. “It’s not like I want to be here either.”

 

“If you could just focus and improve with your dancing, we wouldn’t have to keep practicing every single day!” the second prince hisses at him, nudging his foot out to kick at Chanyeol’s shin. “You at this!”

 

“You’re not any good either,” Chanyeol retorts, twirling his dance partner for the tenth time. She looks like she’s about to throw up any second now from all the twirling and spinning. Chanyeol doesn’t really blame her for it.

 

The two princes’ waltz instructor stays sitting on the chair as she watches them, holding a small folded fan in her hands – very convenient when it comes to the hot weather and smacking Sehun’s head whenever he refuses to stop whining.  She narrows her eyes whenever Chanyeol makes the slightest mistake in his steps, up and ready to scold him again for repeating the wrong movement.

 

“How is this so difficult for you?” the old woman asks, smacking Chanyeol’s arm with her god damned fan. “How are you supposed to dance at the ceremony when you keep on failing like this?”

 

Chanyeol grits his teeth, trying his best not to glare at her. ing old hag. If it wasn’t for the fact that she was also the one who taught the king how to dance when he was younger, Chanyeol would have seriously slammed her against the huge piano by the corner of the ballroom or something. He takes in a deep breath, holding onto his partner once more as the music starts to play again.

 

He’s only taken just a few steps before the insane woman groans, flailing her arms around, throwing her fan at the small radio. “Wrong, wrong, wrong! Wrong again!”

 

Chanyeol lets out a resigned sigh, stopping completely. “I want to take a break.”

 

“The second prince was doing so well! Your own partner was doing well!” She yells. “It’s something so simple yet you can’t seem to do it no matter how many times you have practiced!”

 

Sehun chuckles gently, folding his arms as he raises a brow. “Seriously, Chanyeol. It’s just a simple dance and you can’t even do that. Am I really better than you in everything? Is there at least something that you can do?”

 

It’s silly to be this hurt over a pair of siblings’ quarrel, but even Sehun can see it in his eyes now. Guilt flashes across Sehun’s face when he realizes that he took it too far, but Chanyeol doesn’t really want to deal with this today, not when what his younger brother said was actually true.

 

“Chanyeol, wait—”

 

He’s already taken a step out of the door before Sehun said anything else, and Chanyeol turns to see the royal tailor, out of all people, in front of him with his fist up in the air, like he was about to knock on the door to the ballroom. Baekhyun blinks when he stares up at Chanyeol, holding a small bottled water to his chest.

 

“Oh… Your Highness…” Baekhyun hesitates.

 

The crown prince stops, standing too close for comfort with the royal tailor, silently looking at him. Chanyeol notices the boy’s tight grip on the bottle before he sees a dry towel draped on the tailor’s shoulder. Baekhyun stares at him questioningly, looking like he’s searching for answers in the depth of Chanyeol’s disappointed eyes.

 

“Uh, is Prince Sehun still in the ballroom?” Baekhyun asks as he points to the door.

 

Chanyeol scoffs before he snatches the bottle out of the tailor’s hands, ignoring the boy’s startled yelp before he walks away, leaving everyone behind. Of course Baekhyun was searching for Sehun – they were too attached with each other to begin with – but it’s impossible if Baekhyun didn’t know that Chanyeol was in that ballroom too. If he had any decency at all, he would’ve brought along two water bottles for two of the princes. Chanyeol cringes at his own thought. Baekhyun and him aren’t on good terms, it’s only logical that Baekhyun wasn’t there to see him. It would’ve been weird if he was.

 

It still leaves a bitter taste in Chanyeol’s mouth, though. He hits his own head with the bottle, forcing himself to stop dwelling on the royal tailor and his brother so much. He has never been so bothered by the two of them before, so why is he overthinking about them now?

 

“Quit being so whiny,” he scolds himself, thumping his head against the wall. He even almost forgot the real reason why he was upset in the first place.

 

Chanyeol is too distracted with the water bottle to notice the second prince walking out of the ballroom again, this time with the royal tailor in tow. When Chanyeol does realize that the waltzing practice was over, he hides himself behind the nearest pillar, glancing at the royal tailor.

 

Baekhyun gently presses the towel onto the second prince’s forehead, wiping all the sweat off his face. Sehun makes silly faces at the royal tailor in the midst of getting his face wiped, earning a soft chuckle from the tailor.

 

Chanyeol fights the urge to vomit right then and there at the sight of the two boys giggling together. He slams the bottle of water to the floor, startling both of the boys when they realize that they weren’t alone. Chanyeol gives the tailor one last glare before he makes his way upstairs, wiping at his own sweat with his sleeves, missing the way Baekhyun stares at him in confusion.

 

Childish. You’re being childish. Quit acting like such a child.

 

The crown prince lets out an embarrassed groan, pulling onto his own ears when he lies on his bed. What he did just now – its seemed like an immature child throwing a tantrum. He shouldn’t have made his presence known. He shouldn’t have even hide behind the pillar to spy on the second prince and the royal tailor.

 

“What am I doing?” he whispers helplessly to himself.

 

Just what am I doing?

 

Chanyeol jumps slightly when someone knocks on the door. He slams his pillow onto his head, covering both his ears to ignore the constant knocking before he grunts and stomps to the door. If this is one of those panicking servants again, he swears that he really won’t tolerate them today. He might as well just fire them right here.

 

Baekhyun’s small smile greets him the moment he opens the door. Chanyeol backs away a little, surprised by his presence before he tries to seem unfazed, nodding at the tailor.

 

“What do you want?” he asks, glaring at the boy.

 

The royal tailor shows him a small white towel in his hand as he stands on the tip of his toes, reaching up to the crown prince’s head. He wipes the towel on Chanyeol’s forehead as Chanyeol stares at him, blinking in a speechless manner. He pushes the tailor away. “What on earth do you think you are doing, servant boy?”

 

“I just thought that…” Baekhyun starts reluctantly, before he shakes his head. “Nevermind.”

 

“Is that… the towel that you used to wipe my brother’s head with?” Chanyeol points at the towel, disgusted.

 

“What? No!” the royal tailor denies, waving the cloth around. “Of course not, Your Highness!”

 

“You keep on insisting that you aren’t a servant, but here you are, in front of me, trying to wipe my face,” Chanyeol snorts as he makes fun of the tailor, ignoring the constant thumping of his heart and the rhythmic pulsing on his wrist. “I’m beginning to think that you are both the royal tailor and the servant.”

 

Baekhyun glares at him, and Chanyeol genuinely thinks that he missed that look. He prefers the royal tailor glaring at him with eyes full of hatred than having to see him staring at Chanyeol with a look in his eyes that Chanyeol can’t seem to decipher.

 

“I was just trying to be nice.” Baekhyun replies, shoving the towel to Chanyeol’s chest. “You should try that for once. Perhaps if you do, you wouldn’t be such a nuisance to deal with.”

 

“No one told you to come to me in the first place.” Chanyeol huffs, throwing the towel away.

 

“Maybe I just wanted to, okay?” Baekhyun says, rolling his eyes before he slams the door onto Chanyeol’s face.

 

Chanyeol is left alone to stare at the closed door, listening to the tailor’s footsteps getting further and further. He picks up the white towel that he threw earlier, wiping his thumb at Baekhyun’s initials sewed on the corner of the towel. He chucks the towel into the laundry basket, sighing as he hides his face onto his pillow again.

 

Just what am I doing?

 

 

 

 

 

 

iii.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Surprisingly, Baekhyun rarely talks to the crown prince as a few months go by. He sees short glimpses of the prince when he’s walking past the hallway, or when he sees the prince with his family in the morning, bantering with the second prince during breakfast. They no longer talk unless completely necessary, and Baekhyun is thankful for that. The prince still sends him a sharp glare when their eyes meet, but at least he doesn’t say a word to him anymore. They are back to the way they were before.

 

Baekhyun only spends his time helping the other servants, preparing for the crown prince’s coming-of-age ceremony, which the said prince doesn’t even seem to be looking forward to. Despite the fact that the ceremony is supposedly a big day for Chanyeol, it seems like everyone else are excited for that day to come except for the prince himself.

 

Words travel fast; Baekhyun has witnessed multiple news channels reporting on the grand event, and at first, he wondered why was it such a big deal that the prince is about to have his mark, as it is the same occurrence that happens to everyone who turns eighteen, just like he did a few months ago.

 

His soulmate mark is still inked jet black, colorless and blank – Baekhyun doesn’t bother counting down the days for his soulmate to finally appear anymore. No one cared about his mark, and Baekhyun is beginning to not pay attention to it as well. It doesn’t matter if it will simply remain colorless for the rest of life. Baekhyun would actually prefer that than finding out who his soulmate truly is.

 

It’s the night before the grand ceremony – everyone was too busy preparing for the big day to notice Baekhyun sneaking around in the palace’s kitchen. He had been too occupied trying to help everyone with the preparations to the extent where he simply had forgotten to eat. Now, right in the middle of the night, Baekhyun steals a few grapes and bread from the counter, humming in delight as he fills his empty stomach.

 

Baekhyun tiptoes across the enormous dining hall, half eaten baguette squished in between his two hands, trying his best not to make a sound from his quick trip to the kitchen. The two guards standing under the dimmed lights are used to the sight of the royal tailor sneaking around in the kitchen at midnight, always looking for something to eat after skipping dinner.

 

Baekhyun stops when he notices one of the guards raising his brow at him, so Baekhyun only smiles shyly, holding up his baguette, as if trying to tell the guard that no, he was not stealing something precious – he simply wanted some leftover bread. In the middle of the night.

 

“Good evening, Jongin,” he greets the man reluctantly, and slightly feeling guilty for pushing the man earlier that day. In his defense, he was busy and the bodyguard was blocking his way!

 

The man only nods at him knowingly. “Hungry as usual, yes?”

 

“Ah,” his stomach grumbles just before Baekhyun could reply with a proper sentence. “Yes…”

 

The bodyguard says nothing else, so Baekhyun takes that as a clue to walk back to his mother’s room as fast as he can to save himself from further embarrassment. He hastily shoves the baguette into his mouth, face reddening as his pace quickens.

 

Just as he no longer feels the bodyguard’s burning gaze on his back, he hears soft mumbles and hums not too far from where he is standing. He slows down, still chewing, trying to listen to the hums and follows, walking towards the place that the quiet sounds will lead him.

 

There’s a slightly opened door that leads him to the ballroom where many events have taken place. He backs away when he sees a silhouette of a man, wondering if he should yell for Jongin or any other guards that are nearer to where he is, but as he takes a closer look, his eyes widen when they stumble on the crown prince singing to himself as he waltzes alone.

 

Baekhyun watches as the prince grumble when he messes up, almost tripping on his feet. The crown prince stands back up, straightening his posture with a determined expression. He moves once more with his arms stretched out and feet clumsily shuffling on the floor before he staggers again. The royal tailor unintentionally smiles at this, stifling his sudden laughter by shoving the bread into his mouth.

 

He silently stares as Chanyeol pretends to spin his “dance partner” in his arms, humming a little louder as he focuses, tongue jutting out of his mouth adorably with his eyebrows furrowed. When the crown prince almost slips again, Baekhyun swallows, contemplating on revealing himself, wondering if it would be a good idea or a horrible one. The prince does despise him, even slightly.

 

But the grand ceremony is tomorrow and the crown prince seems like he is nowhere near prepared for the dance. Prince and princesses from other kingdoms will be arriving soon just to be the lucky ones to dance with the well-known crown prince; the least Baekhyun can do is help him, even if it means getting more ‘servant boy’ insults along the way.

 

“Your Highness, if I may…” he starts to say, full of courage as he enters the ballroom. “You’re supposed to have a partner when you dance.”

 

The prince almost screams when he sees him, holding onto his chest as he jumps. “How long have you been standing there?”

 

“Only for a few seconds,” he bows. “I apologize, Your Highness. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

 

“Are you going to make fun of me?” Chanyeol asks, defensive. “Is that what you intended to do when you came here?”

 

Baekhyun shakes his head as he approaches the prince, settling his baguette down on a stool nearby. “No, Your Highness, of course not. I’ve come to help.”

 

Chanyeol laughs nervously, looking at the tailor in doubt. “Help? I don’t need your help.”

 

“All right,” Baekhyun nods, grinning. He places both his hands on the crown prince’s shoulders, pretending to not see the prince’s eyes widening. “I know you don’t need my help. I’m just here as your dance partner.”

 

“I don’t need a dance partner either,” Chanyeol scoffs, shoving the royal tailor away. “Leave.”

 

Baekhyun ignores the prince’s protests, humming as he places his hands on the crown prince’s shoulders again, this time with a little grip so the prince can’t easily brush him off once more.

 

“I saw you dance just now and I saw how you almost slipped,” Baekhyun whistles. He sees the prince’s cheeks reddening in shame. “We don’t want that to happen during the actual ceremony, do we?”

 

“And I suppose you know how to dance properly?” Chanyeol snorts, but he allows the royal tailor to hold onto his shoulders again while his own hands are still limp by his sides. “What a joke.”

 

Baekhyun shrugs, showing a lop-sided grin. “Well, I do consider myself quite a good dancer. I dance with my mother all the time. Come on now, my prince, let me show you a few good steps that will surely steal some princesses’ hearts.”

 

“I don’t have to steal other princesses’ hearts,” Chanyeol mumbles, hesitantly placing his hands on Baekhyun’s shoulders, awkward and stiff. “I have Joohyun.”

 

“That’s true,” the royal tailor nods, releasing his grip on the prince’s shoulders in order to hold onto the latter’s hands, bringing them down to his waist. “Hold my waist like this.”

 

Chanyeol flinches, before he pulls away completely, baffled. “I am not going to hold you by your waist like that.”

 

Baekhyun sighs, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Fine. I will put my hands on your waist, then.”

 

“No one is touching anyone’s waist!” Chanyeol shrieks. “This is a bad idea. I should just go to sleep. It is a big day for me tomorrow.”

 

“A big day that you will ruin by not knowing how to dance,” Baekhyun hums, tapping his foot on the floor, waiting for the prince to give in. He doesn’t know why he insists on helping the prince so much when he could have eaten his bread in peace and get some sleep. “I don’t suppose Princess Joohyun would like it if you stepped on her feet, would she?”

 

Chanyeol’s cheeks redden with anger and shame, just about to yell at the tailor again before he sighs. “I won’t step on her feet. I’m not that terrible in dancing.”

 

“Let’s just practice one last time before the big day,” Baekhyun suggests, approaching the prince again. “I know that we aren’t exactly fond of each other and we don’t like being in each other’s presence, but I’m not that evil to let you embarrass yourself at the ballroom dance.”

 

“Mind your choice of words, servant boy,” the crown prince warns, holding onto the tailor’s shoulders once more. “If I were to slip and fall during the dance tomorrow, I will throw you out of this palace. If anyone sees us right now, I will throw them out of the palace too.”

 

“Neither of that will happen. Trust me, Your Highness,” Baekhyun grins, taking a step backwards. The hands on his shoulders fall back to the prince’s sides, before the tailor reaches out his hand for the prince. “Take my hand.”

 

The prince seems lost for a moment, his eyes glazed with wonder as he stares at Baekhyun’s outstretched hand. Baekhyun grasps onto the prince’s hands, bringing them down to his waist before he holds onto the prince’s shoulders again, flashing a nervous smile. He can’t believe that the crown prince actually agreed on doing this with him in the middle of the night just before the ceremony. If any of the guards or the maids found them here, he knows that they would be in big trouble.

 

“Put your feet on mine, it’ll be easier to lead you.” Baekhyun says.

 

“Have you gone mad? I’d crush you!” Chanyeol frets, unknowingly tightening his hold on the royal tailor’s waist.

 

“Nothing to worry about, I’ve done this with the second prince before.” Baekhyun winks, not noticing the slightest glint of light in the crown prince’s eyes vanishing at the mere mention of his younger brother. “That’s why Sehun is so good at dancing. I taught him how to do so.”

 

“Oh,” the first prince pauses for a while, before he nods and steps on Baekhyun’s feet. “All right then. Don’t blame me if your feet turn sore tomorrow. I obviously weigh more than you.”

 

Baekhyun yelps at the sudden pressure on his feet, biting his lip as he tries to lead the prince. “Not… that… heavy…. See?”

 

It’s just for a short while, but Baekhyun manages to hear it; the prince’s soft chuckle as he watches Baekhyun struggling to move. Chanyeol has a full smile on his face now, dimple visible on his rosy cheeks as he lightly laughs at Baekhyun’s misery, but Baekhyun realizes that he doesn’t mind.

 

The prince is actually capable of smiling at him – that’s a first. It’s been too long since he has seen Chanyeol laughing at something he did, and perhaps it is because the prince’s guard is lowered down at this time, knowing that no one is here to see them interacting. Baekhyun knows that Chanyeol will never want to be seen with him, but seeing the prince laughing along with him, it strikes a glimmer of hope in restoring his old friendship with this sunflower prince.

 

“Alright, bad idea, bad idea!” Baekhyun groans, slightly pushing the prince away to set his swollen feet free. “New plan: don’t step on my feet. I’ll just try to lead you.”

 

Chanyeol continues to laugh, nodding in agreement as he holds onto Baekhyun’s waist again, swinging their bodies from left to right. “I think you really don’t know what you are doing.”

 

“I do. I’m good at this.” Baekhyun grunts, determined to prove the prince wrong.

 

He hums to a simple song, creating a gentle rhythm as he dances with the first prince, occasionally getting his foot stepped on again because undeniably, the prince is really terrible at dancing, but Baekhyun can see how badly he wants to improve.

 

When the prince focuses on the movement of his feet, Baekhyun quietly stares at him, a soft smile stretched on his face as he takes a closer look at the crown prince. He can hear Chanyeol counting his steps under his breath, shoulders tense and eyes narrowed as moves. Baekhyun closes his eyes, resting his head on the prince’s shoulder, feeling the latter freezing under his hold.

 

Chanyeol stops, staring down on him. “What are you doing?”

 

“It’s a part of the dance,” Baekhyun hums, pressing his cheek against the crown prince’s collarbone. “You seemed stiff and hesitant. When you dance, you’re supposed to go with the flow. We’re practicing, remember? Don’t be afraid.”

 

“I’m not afraid,” the crown prince murmurs. “Am I doing well?”

 

He supposes that Chanyeol’s cold façade is broken down at a time like this, when he desperately needs someone to guide him, or when he’s clueless of his next move. It surprises him to listen to the crown prince speaking to him like this – like he needs constant reassurance and guidance, unsure if what he’s doing might be a mistake.

 

Baekhyun nods, still resting his head on the prince’s shoulder. Their slow movements almost lull him to sleep, especially when it’s too quiet like this, and quite frankly, Baekhyun decides that he likes this.

 

“You’re doing really well, Your Highness,” Baekhyun gives him a reassuring smile. “Good job. I’m sure the princesses can’t wait to dance with you tomorrow.”

 

He doesn’t realize that it’s already midnight just until the clock dings, and the prince suddenly flinches, whimpering in pain. Baekhyun pulls away, alarmed, watching as the crown prince clasps onto his wrist, wincing.

 

“Your Highness!” Baekhyun exclaims, “Are you alright? What happened?”

 

“I-I don’t know…” Chanyeol winces again, bringing both his hands to his chest. “Call the guards!”

 

Baekhyun remains standing there, frozen at the sight of the mark on his wrist coloring. His hands tremble as he watches his soulmate mark no longer inked black, instead it shimmers a somber blue. He can’t bring himself to look at the prince again, but it is the prince who pulls onto his hand, fingers digging into Baekhyun’s mark.

 

“What…” Chanyeol’s voice shakes as he stares at Baekhyun’s wrist in disgust. “What is this…?”

 

The crown prince is no longer smiling at him. It disappeared the moment he realized what was happening, and now he can’t bring himself to look at the royal tailor’s face anymore. Baekhyun can’t seem to speak, can’t seem to explain, he can only watch as the prince’s eyes water, bloodshot red with anger.

 

It’s him.

 

Baekhyun can see it clearly now – the identical mark etched onto the crown prince’s wrist, extremely similar with the one engraved on the skin of Baekhyun’s wrist and it still doesn’t make sense. The mark is starting to hurt now, but seeing the revulsion in the prince’s eyes as he looks at their marks somehow hurts him even more.

 

“I…” Baekhyun swallows, hiding his wrist behind his back. “I think… that we are each other’s soulmates…”

 

This is not what was supposed to happen. His mother said that discovering your soulmate for the first time was the best thing that can happen; the feeling of finally feeling his soulmate’s presence near him will bring him great joy but this – this isn’t supposed to happen. He’s not supposed to feel this hurt and dejected, not being able to look at his own soulmate in the eye.

 

Chanyeol lets out a sarcastic laugh, but he sounds scared too. Terrified of what’s to come and what could happen in the future. A prince with a servant as his soulmate – how would the king react if he ever finds out about this?

 

“What have you done?” Chanyeol asks, demanding for an answer, gripping onto Baekhyun’s hand so harshly, it makes him wince. “Tell me what you’ve done!”

 

“I don’t know!” Baekhyun shouts. “I didn’t do anything, I swear!”

 

“Lies!” Chanyeol grabs onto his shoulders, shaking him. “You must’ve planned for this to happen, didn’t you?”

 

“No!” Baekhyun clenches his fists, pushing the prince’s hands away. “I didn’t do anything!”

 

The crown prince shoves Baekhyun away, pushing at his chest until he falls to the ground. He stops when he sees Baekhyun backing away from him, terrified.

 

“You are not allowed to attend the ceremony tomorrow.” Chanyeol speaks, glaring at him once again. “I don’t want to see you anywhere near me. Hide that mark on your wrist and do not let anyone else know about this.”

 

Baekhyun stares at the prince in disbelief. “But—”

 

“If anyone ever finds out about this, I will make sure that you will never return to this palace.” Chanyeol warns him, giving him one last look before he walks away. “Do not ever talk to me again. I don’t want anything to do with you anymore.”

 

He watches as the prince slams the door on his way out, leaving him alone in the empty ballroom as his mark turns red, inflicting pain within him.

 

 

 

 

 

—

 

 

 

 

 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

 

His mother asks, rubbing his back. Their bedroom door is slightly open and he can hear the lively music playing from afar, along with people’s cheers and laughter. Baekhyun turns to stare longingly at the door for a slight moment before he shakes his head and feigns a small smile to his worried mother.

 

“I’m sure,” he replies. “Go and have fun, ma. I’m quite tired.”

 

“But you should at least come and eat, Baekhyun.” His mother sighs. “Go get changed and let’s meet some people. It’s rude to stay in your room like this when we have guests.”

 

“We don’t belong there, ma.” Baekhyun says. It’s the truth after all. The two tailors can’t keep pretending that they actually matter in this kingdom. “The ceremony is for kings and queens, princes and princesses. People of royal blood. We don’t deserve to be there with them.”

 

“Baekhyun,” she calls, quite surprised at his words. “Yesterday, you seemed excited to attend the ceremony. What is this really about?”

 

Baekhyun stays silent, can’t bear to look at his mother’s questioning gaze because he knows that if he does, she will pull the answers and unspoken secrets out of him. His wrists are covered beneath his sleeves, as if his own soulmate mark brings danger to himself, shining hazardous red ever since the crown prince warned him about their marks. He doesn’t want to humiliate the prince and his whole family by revealing that the well-known crown prince’s soulmate is a mere tailor in the palace – this will only bring great shame to their kingdom. As much as Baekhyun craves for a soulmate, he won’t do this to the prince.

 

“I can’t,” Baekhyun croaks out, shaking his head frantically. “I can’t go out there, ma. I will only humiliate us all.”

 

His mother rushes to his side, cradling his chin in her small hands. “What are you talking about? What happened, Baekhyun? Why won’t you tell your mother about this?”

 

“I can’t tell anyone, ma, not even you.” He whispers, ashamed and guilty as he stares at his lap. “I might put us both in danger.”

 

“You’re being hysterical!” his mother exclaims, eyes bulged out in shock. “Stop speaking nonsense, Baekhyun! We aren’t going to be in danger. Why are you acting like this?”

 

“Ma, just—” he sighs. “Just go and enjoy your night, okay? I’m fine just staying here.”

 

“I’m not going anywhere until my son tells me what is happening to him and why he is acting like a madman,” his mother sternly replies, folding her arms against her chest.

 

He finally braces himself to meet his mother’s gaze. She seems more worried than angry, hands a little bit shaky as she still holds onto his jaw. His mother looks more tired than she usually did, and Baekhyun feels a tinge of guilt knowing that all the exhaustion she felt was caused by him. He sighs, leaning into her embrace, caving into the warmth of her loving arms.

 

He can still listen to the music and laughter coming from the other end of the door. He wonders how everyone reacted when they see how hideous the crown prince’s mark is – all because of him. They must’ve wondered why the prince’s mark is red, or why a needle, out of all things, was inked onto the prince’s wrist. Will they wonder why the crown prince’s mark isn’t similar to any of the princesses’ mark? Will they ever demand to see the prince’s soulmate? And when that happens, will Baekhyun be hidden and kept away once more to avoid bringing shame to the royal family?

 

He had almost forgotten about the second prince.

 

“Just three more years, yes?” Sehun asks and finally releases his wrist. “I will turn eighteen soon… and I will have the same mark carved onto my wrist. Just you see.”

 

What will Sehun say if he sees that mark on his older brother’s wrist? The mark that he promised to have once he turns eighteen. The same mark on Baekhyun’s wrist that he traced his fingers on.

 

“Mind if I remind you that you are a prince, Your Highness. The possibility of you being my soulmate is very unlikely.” Baekhyun simply laughs, reaching up to disarrange the prince’s hair. “Silly boy.”

 

Somehow, Baekhyun has the sudden urge to laugh at himself. Silly boy.

 

“Baekhyun…?” his mother pats his cheek. “What is it, son?”

 

He bites the inner part of his cheek, contemplating on confiding in his own mother. Baekhyun trusts his mother more than anyone else, but he can’t be too certain that his mother won’t inform the queen about this matter if Baekhyun tells her that he and the crown prince share the same mark. Though keeping something so crucial from his mother brings him great guilt.

 

“If I tell you, ma…” he starts as he folds his sleeves, slow and hesitant. “You have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone about this, especially the queen.”

 

“Sweetheart, if it is something important that might bring danger to our lives or to the kingdom, I have no option but to tell the king and the queen.” She says apologetically, but this time, he can sense the hint of impatience laced in the softness of her voice.

 

Baekhyun lets his head hang low, fiddling with the hem of his sleeves. He pulls on them with one single tug, revealing the red, glimmering needle-shaped mark engraved on his wrist. It’s starting to sting a bit, caused by the damaged relationship between him and his soulmate, but it’s still bearable. Baekhyun just doesn’t know if he can hold on any longer if the crown prince continues to refuse to acknowledge their marks. He has read and heard stories about the red marks before – how they sting and the pain they caused.

 

His mother doesn’t say anything when she finally sees his mark again; this time it is no longer dull and black, but it is lively in deep crimson. She swipes her fingertips on the mark, in awe at the sight of her son’s mark finally coloring, but she doesn’t smile. Not when Baekhyun looks so helpless and scared like this. She smiles bitterly, covering the mark with her palm.

 

“You’ve finally discovered who your soulmate is,” she states. “Aren’t you happy, darling?”

 

Baekhyun slumps in defeat before he shrugs his shoulders. “I thought I would be.”

 

“Do you know who it is?” his mother asks.

 

It takes him too long to answer, and judging by the way she silently watches as Baekhyun stares at the door, she eventually comprehends his doubts.

 

“Your soulmate… It’s the crown prince, isn’t it?” she chuckles gently, pinching his chin. She doesn’t wait for his answer this time. “Of course, it’s him… Who else could it be if it wasn’t him?”

 

“I didn’t want it to be him,” Baekhyun huffs. “I would’ve been happier if it was anyone else except him. You’ve seen how he acts around me, mama, he hates me!”

 

“He does not hate you,” she shorts, running her fingers through his hair like she always does in order to calm him down. “You two used to be friends, remember?”

 

“Yes, we were,” he says, sullen. And I just want my friend back.

 

“Are you… in love with him?” she asks. He can’t tell if she’s genuinely curious or if she just wants to lighten up the situation – which is not working.

 

“What?” he grimaces, pulling away from her grasp just to give her a bewildered look. “No! God, no. Absolutely not, ma.”

 

“Alright, I was just making sure,” his mother laughs as Baekhyun continues to stare at her in horror. The audacity of implying that he is in love with the crown prince who does nothing but throw insults at him. He’s not that idiotic to be falling for someone so disrespectful to him.

 

“I’m not looking for love,” he sighs as he leans against the wall, gazing up to the ceiling, allowing his thoughts to run wild. It’s time for him to stop overthinking about possibilities and consequences. “I am looking for a soulmate.”

 

“Well, you’ve found him, haven’t you?” his mother grins before she walks to their small closet, hands fumbling for something deep in the upper drawers. “There is nothing to worry about, Baekhyun. You are not going to be in danger just because you are the crown prince’s soulmate.”

 

“How are you so sure about that?” he challenges, rolling his eyes as he reminisces the prince’s words. “The prince himself was the one who implied that I might be thrown out of this palace if anyone knows that we are soulmates.”

 

“If anyone ever finds out about this, I will make sure that you will never return to this palace.”

 

Baekhyun snorts.

 

Now that his mother knows, there is still a possibility that the prince might get rid of him, but at least he has his mother on his side. It can’t be that bad now, can it?

 

“The crown prince and you are absolutely underestimating the fact that you two are soulmates,” his mother chuckles, pulling her old sewing kit from under their bed. She tosses a small box full of unwanted fabrics next to the sewing kit placed on the bed before she takes his arm, folding his sleeves up to his elbows.

 

He puffs his cheeks, stubbornly grumbling as he tries to pull his hand away. She keeps both his arms secured on her lap as she takes a piece of white cloth, wrapping it around his mark, covering the symbol completely.

 

“If your mark is colored red, his mark will be red too,” she says. “If it is gold, then his will be gold too, depending on how you two are feeling about yourselves, about each other. This applies to all pairs of soulmates – platonic, romantic, soulmates who have never even seen each other. It is just how it works. It’s truly beautiful, I’ll say.”

 

“I know all about that,” he pretends to yawn. “Is that all?”

 

Despite his snarky reply, his mother doesn’t smack his head or pull on one of his ears like she always does when he’s purposely being obnoxious. She only laughs as she smoothens the surface of the cloth on his wrist.

 

“The prince or anyone else will never hurt you,” she hums knowingly, “because when you feel pain, he will feel it too. It is the same for you. If he is hurt, you will feel hurt too. Even if you two are too far away from each other, your marks will hurt.”

 

“That doesn’t sound like it makes any sense,” Baekhyun stares at his mother incredulously. “How is that even possible?”

 

“It’s very red now,” she refers to the needle-shaped mark. “It stings a bit, does it not?”

 

Baekhyun gulps, nodding. His mother tugs onto his sleeves and covers the cloth, pointing at the mark underneath the layers of cloth, its light now barely visible unless seen up close.

 

“Let’s go, then.” She grins, pulling him up and pushes him towards the door. “We don’t want the first prince to be in pain while he’s dancing, do we?”

 

Baekhyun hesitates, his hand hovering above the doorknob. If Chanyeol ever sees him, mid-waltzing, spies him in the crowd, he will surely not speak to Baekhyun again. But Baekhyun doesn’t want to attend the ceremony because of the prince. He deserves to celebrate, dance, eat, laugh and chat just much as the others do.

 

“Screw the prince,” Baekhyun decides. “I’m starving and I want to dance.”

 

His mother laughs, surprised, before she tugs his arm behind his back, giving him a smile. “I won’t tell anyone that you are the crown prince’s soulmate. Don’t you worry about it, sweetheart.”

 

 

 

 

 

—

 

 

 

 

Even if the crown prince feels Baekhyun’s presence close to him, the prince does not acknowledge him.