“You said you'd let me go because you love me. Sadly, I guessed right, even though I want to deny it.”

Apink, Dumhdurum

Every day was torture.

Every day was agony.

Every day was a step closer to a doom that had yet to finally settle in.

Min Yoongi was - in all essence of the word - a mess.

Most days he was calm. He tried to paint, and it was going well, until he realized all his paintings were of Eunji.

Or if he passed by the main courtyard, he would still expect to see her there, even though it was nothing but a gloomy open space filled with snow.

Other times he was terrified.

Now was one of them.

He stared at the statue in front of the gardens. “When?” he asked, feeling the blood rushing in his ears as he watched Lady Hong inspect it.

“Probably sometime during the night, Your Highness,” she said gravely.

A chill ran down his spine as he stared at the petrified expression on the statue. “He was alone?”

“He was on guard duty, so yes.”

Ever since a month after Eunji left the palace, a mysterious incident occurred: one by one, his servants were turning to stone.

Now, a month later, more than half his servants were frozen solid, and the rest were milling about worriedly, wondering who was going to be next.

To alleviate the increasing hysteria, he had whoever was strong enough to move the statues into the Rose Courtyard - his domain - so that they wouldn’t be able to be reminded of what was coming.

He knew what they felt; it was taking everything in him to not start hyperventilating everytime he retired for the night.

“Is this really what is to become of us, Your Highness?” Suhyun asked fearfully, “I don’t want to go this way.”

Gayoon held her, calming her down, her eyes teary. “We have to stay strong.”

“But I’m scared.”

Jihyun wrapped her arms around her. “We’re here with you. Even if one of us turns to stone, we’ll take care of whoever’s left.”

He clutched the wooden pillar, leaning on it for support. “I wish I had an explanation for what’s happening. But I don’t, and I won’t make up lies to make any of this better,” he told them, “Worse still, every time I try to step out of the palace, I am overcome with inexplicable pain, like I’m being stabbed by knives. Some of you have reported the same.”

“So we’re trapped here?” Soonshim asked, drawing closer to his mother, who his hair, “With no way out?”

Viscount Kim nodded. “It appears so.”

Yoongi in a breath. “Not only that,” he added, “The witch hasn’t appeared since the night before Eunji left.”

If it was possible, even saying her name made his heart ache.

You promised you’d come back.

Why aren’t you here yet?

We’re left with the last month before spring. If anything can help us now, it’s you, and only you.

He looked at his servants. “There is nothing we can do for now except pray,” he said to them, “I’m sorry...this is all my fault.”

He felt his chest constrict. “I didn’t mean to make all of you suffer.”

Lady Hong tried to reach for him, but he pushed past them, running into the gardens, turning past the mazes, past the frozen lake, and finally into the furthest garden of them all: his mother’s mugunghwa gardens.

Pushing through the rusty gates, he stepped into the blooming enclave, feeling the warmth overwhelm him like a motherly embrace, and kneeled before the well that was in the center of the garden.

“If you can hear me now,” he choked through his tears, “Please. Give me the strength to be here for my people who have done no wrong to deserve the punishments given to them.”

He placed his head on the gravel, crying unabashedly into the rocks that dug into his face, his body wracking with anguished sobs.

He lay there until the blood started to rush to his head, and he sat up, wiping the tears from his face as he sat before the well.

It was then that he noticed that there was an engraving in one of the bricks near the base of the well.

He squinted, going in to take a closer look.

The heart’s desire never lies.

That was the quote at the back of his mother’s mirror that he had given to Eunji.

She was confused about the quote too.

He looked up at the well. “If you can grant wishes, please grant mine,” he whispered, placing his palms against the cool stone, “Please bring Eunji back to me.”

As soon as he said that, he sighed.

I sound stupid, relying on wells for magic wishes.

Who am I to ask for so much?

Placing his forehead against the well, he shut his eyes.

Eunji, I wish you were with me once again.

He sat in the empty library, seated at the same place Eunji used to sit as he leaned over his papers, dipping his quill into an ink pot before hovering over the blank book.

Eunwoo is the next unfortunate member of the household to go, he wrote, we are down to our last twenty or so.

It is currently twenty-five more days till the first of spring.

And that means twenty-five more days until my twenty-fifth birthday, where the enchantments over this palace will be permanent.

None of us are able to leave, and it appears that the servants will all be turned to stone.

I am unable to sleep, knowing that one day the ones closest to me will not wake up in the morning.

Though I hold onto the hope that our savior will return, even the people are starting to panic and ask why she is not here yet. Perhaps it is my fault, to have ended her debt to this cursed place, and perhaps as a result of my actions, we are doomed to remain still for all eternity.

Father used to say, ‘Everyone will live, everyone will love, everyone will fade away and be forgotten.’ I hope so desperately that Eunji does not forget me, and I her. I have waited my whole life for someone who can touch my soul the way she has; she is not here with me now, but her presence inside of me is the only thing that holds me together.

And there is the subject of my own metamorphosis. I have yet to confide in anyone, but I fear that the end of my mortality is not to be transformed into stone, but into a true animal. You see, dear reader, as time goes by, I feel like I’m turning into a monster: I crave the taste of raw flesh, of blood, and I turn away from whatever they serve me now, not because I no longer desire the food, but I do not wish to see my servants with hunger.

The life I'd hoped for, the life I'd wanted, just that kind of life. I do not care now how it turns out anymore. I just wish that death would come swiftly for us all, and that I will remain a brave and noble prince right up till the very end.

I will not give in.

He stopped writing as a teardrop fell onto the page, mixing with the drying ink to form a smear.

Yoongi felt a shuddering breath go through him.

He shut his eyes.

“Viscount Kim!” Eunji protested, “Yoong’s sleeping!”

He opened his eyes, imagining her next to him. “I was just closing my eyes,” he tried to say, although it sounded strangled by tears, “It was a slow blink.”

She leaned closer. “Liar, you’re falling asleep,” she said smugly, “You know what Viscount Kim does to sleeping students.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

She glared playfully at him. “Sure, Yoongi. I suppose I’ll blink slowly too, since this lesson is so wonderfully interesting.”

He smiled at her as she leaned against his arm, looking ahead. In a blink, she was gone, replaced with the dark interior of the library.

He was alone once more, and it was silent save the sound of falling snow and his sobs.

Hoseok watched me as I painted on a blank page.

“What?”

“Aren’t you sleepy?”

“Not in the least bit. You know I have trouble sleeping,” I replied, “Besides, I’m trying to finish the next few copies and see if it’ll help make me sleepy.”

He knelt in front of me, looking at the pieces of paper that were hanging out to dry. “Your books are selling out like hot cakes,” he said, “How does it feel to be the most sought out seller, Miss Jung?”

I grinned. “I feel so very accomplished, thank you for asking.”

He glanced at the completed books by my side. “What’s this next one about?”

“It’s a continuation from the cliffhanger I had in the previous book,” I said, dipping my quill into the ink pot, “Princess Ryujin is taken away from the peasant boy Lee Kyung and he has to find a way to return to her once again even though he has nothing to his name. But he faces the biggest dilemma, and that’s her impending arranged marriage.”

“I thought peasants cannot marry princesses.”

“It’s true love, Hoseok. It’s a fantasy that people can’t help but drown in,” I told him, “Besides, Mother said the women are happy that their husbands are reading to them; I’m literally doing community service and keeping married couples together.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’re very thankful to you for that,” he said, “Alright, my dear sister, I will retire for the night. I’m so tired.”

“Goodnight.”

“Nights,” he said, slipping out of my room, “Oh, and I forgot. I’ll be performing in the Spring Harvest Festival again this year, and Sora twisted her foot, so they’re looking for a replacement for one of the side characters. I said you could do it.”

I looked up. “Oh, it’s almost spring already,” I murmured.

“Can you believe it? It’s in two days. I’m ready for the winter to end,” he told me excitedly, “Even though it’s still as cold as ever. Strange, isn’t it? It should start to be a bit warmer, but it hasn’t.”

I nodded distractedly in agreement. “It has.”

“So, do you think you could be a singing tree for like, a short scene?”

I burst into laughs. “You want me to be a tree? After starring as the mother for years?”

“Everyone has an expiration date,” he said, sticking out his tongue, “You know what, I’ll just say yes. It’s not like you have anywhere to be, anyway.”

“True that.”

“Alright, thanks, Eunji. Don’t sleep too late.”

“I’m not so sure of that.”

I continued to write, holding the sleeve of my hand as my brush created neat on the page.

“How much will you do for the man you love?” the prince asked her.

Princess Ryujin looked away. “I love only my father and only him, and so it shall be for a very long time. Even you are second to him.”

Engraved in my heart, I’m looking for our constellation. But the stars that filled the night sky disappear, I wrote, humming a song under my breath.

“You lie, Your Highness. I am third, and we know who comes before me. Anyone can see that.”

I lifted my hand off the page, smiling at my handiwork. “What do you want, Your Highness?” I murmured to myself, “The boy who loves you to death, or the man you believe to bring you a comfortable life?”

I raised my voice to a higher pitch. “I just want to be happier,” I pretended to say, fanning myself, “Am I too greedy to ask that of myself and the man I love?”

“There’s no such thing as having both,” I drawled, “You’ll have to make up your damn mind. Like Hoseok said, everyone has an expiration date.”

In the midst of my monologue, I hadn’t realized that I was essentially speaking my innermost desire: to simply be happy.

Even though it’s been months since I returned, and months since I ventured into my career as a writer of books, there is something...missing.

Despite the legitimate money I am making, there is something incomplete.

I want happiness. Is that too greedy of me?

I got up, going to the window and unlatching it, feeling the brittle cold air outside. My breaths created little puffs of air that seeped through my lips and into the night.

Staring at the forests beyond the village, I was reminded of the forests I could see from my rooftop back at the mountains.

Living there now seemed like a dream that I couldn’t seem to revisit again. Although Father was no longer bedridden, he insisted that I remain by his side, and it was great to finally spend time with him: going to the Merchant’s Guild, or to visit our neighbours who had helped us when he had been ill, and many more.

Every time I brought up the fact that I was going to visit Yoongi, he would brush it off.

“Next week,” he would tell me, “You can go next week.”

Next week became a series of weeks that would pass, and now, winter was almost over. My guilt gnawed at me, telling me the promise I was not honoring.

Father was well now. Did I not tell Yoongi that I would return when my father was well?

I hope he wasn’t expecting me.

Or missing me too much.

My mind flitted to the memory of being on the rooftop, on the day of my birthday, when I had asked Yoongi to stay by my side after dinner.

Perhaps that was the moment I was beginning to realize that there was more to us than spiteful barbs, playful jokes, and the increasing competitiveness over Viscount Kim’s attentions.

Beneath the hardened exterior, Yoongi was tender, radiating shyness, and speaking in soft tones whenever he wasn’t arguing with me. He was everything I wasn’t, but deep inside, his soul and mine were kindred spirits who wished to be more than what they were.

Suddenly I remembered what he had told me that night: his birthday was the first of spring.

That’s in two days!

That is, most definitely, a sign I have to go back. I have spent the whole of winter with him in the back of my mind, at least I can arrive on the first spring.

With a sigh, I shut my window, and suddenly the candles in my room went out.

Must have been a draft, I thought, even though there had been no wind.

Groping in the dark, I walked to my drawers, getting my matches to light up the candle.

Blowing out my match, I felt a presence out of the corner of my eye and I let out a scream, falling backwards from the sight of a hooded figure in the furthest corner of the room

I grabbed the staff leaning against my cupboard, pointing it in the direction of the figure, but it was gone.

My door slid open. “Eunji?” Hoseok asked, seeing me lying on my back as I groaned in pain, “What happened?”

Jimin peeked in. “Noona?”

I pushed myself to my feet. “Nothing. I thought I saw-” I trailed off, rubbing my back as I stared at the empty room, “It was nothing.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes. “I think you’ve been writing too much of witches and curses and princesses that you’re starting to hallucinate,” he chided, “Go to bed, Eunji. I’m using my authority as your elder twin.”

“Being a minute older means nothing.”

“It does now,” he said, blowing out the candle, plunging the room in darkness, “See you tomorrow.”

“Wait, it’s too dark!” I protested.

Jimin entered the room. “I’ll stay with you till you sleep, noona,” he volunteered.

“No you’re not,” Hoseok stopped him, “You’re going to bed too. No more late-night studying, you just finished your final exams!”

He dragged my brother out, sliding the door shut, and I was surrounded by silence once more, burying deeper into the blankets as I tried to forget the image of a cloaked figure with a grotesque face.

I shivered, shutting my eyes.

***

“It’s the last day of winter!” Hoseok sang as he entered the kitchen, “The snow’s beginning to melt.”

“It had better,” my father said, placing the bowls on the table for us to eat, “I’m tired of seeing the depressing days pass.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not going anywhere this spring,” my stepmother chided, “We’ll go see Jungkook at the races as a family, and I cannot wait to see Hoseok and Eunji perform for this year’s performances. Even Jimin is going to be competing in the calligraphy competition. I don’t know about you, but I’m so proud of you children.”

“Of course I’m proud too!” my father said, “Such accomplished children you’ve been.”

I grinned as she beamed at us.

“Thanks, Mother,” I told her, “I’m proud of you too. Can’t believe you’re so busy with preparing wedding dresses for the people on the other side of town.”

She preened. “We do what we can to get good money-”

“Stealing from the rich is good money too!” Father cut in.

She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I’ve got free time now that all of you have your own things to do.”

Jungkook clapped me on the back, almost making me cough out my rice. “Even noona is a celebrated romance writer, I’m making a profit selling them at the Guild!” he declared, “Everyone’s waiting for the next installment.”

“It’s coming, tell them to wait,” I muttered, “I didn’t write for weeks only to have them ask me for another one already.”

Everyone laughed.

“So, what are your plans today?” Mother asked, “I’ll be going to Mrs Shin’s house. Her daughter’s getting a new hanbok for her birthday and I’ll be taking measurements for her dress.”

Father drank his tea. “I’ll be at the Guild with the boys. What about you?” he asked Jimin and me, “You will be home?”

My brother shook his head. “I’m going to give Mistress Song something,” he said, “She commissioned some of my calligraphy art and noona’s paintings, so I’m bringing them over.”

“Don’t you say you always get nervous when you visit the gibang?” Hoseok snickered, teasing him, “Don’t the girls fawn over you?”

“You’re saying that because you’re jealous,” came the curt reply, “I’m not even going for too long. I have to deliver Naeun and Changmin’s painting too.”

Hoseok immediately shut up.

Father clucked his tongue. “You had better hurry, good man. I hope you’ve been working hard to propose to her.”

My twin made a face. “I’m trying.”

I turned to Jimin. “If you’d like, I could go to the gibang,” I offered.

“You want to?”

“Sure I do. I want to ask her about some stuff for my book, see if she’s got some suggestions for my writing.”

“Sure. I was looking forward to staying in, actually. Preparing for tomorrow’s spring and all that.”

We continued having breakfast, our family as lively and as close as it had ever been.

I was glad, for the most part, that things had transpired as they had. I wouldn’t have been able to see my stepmother in a new light, with all her own talents and skills.

I definitely wouldn’t have spent this much time with Father, and though we had our disagreements every now and then - as two stubbor