1

     The moment the adrenaline starts to dissipate, Wendy knew she’s screwed. Her hand is stinging—though she isn’t quite sure if it’s from the bruises the ropes left on her wrist or from her impulsive decision to break her kidnapper’s nose—her sister is nowhere to be seen, and her only source of light is the occasional lightning seeping through the windows. 

     So Wendy runs. 

     She doesn’t know where she’s going—she can barely see where she is exactly—but she can hear footsteps behind her, and her heart sinks to the bottom of her stomach because there’s the possibility that the man running after her is the reason for her sister’s disappearance. 

     On the back of her head, she’s sure this will be in the news tomorrow, and it’s funny because what else do princesses do but get kidnapped and waste their nation’s resources for ransom? And maybe that thought would make her smile if she lives to tell the story someday, but not right now because she’s exhausted and she can taste blood in and she’s so, so scared.

     Just when Wendy feels her legs start to give out, she feels arms wrap around her waist, and she fights because she remembers her father and she remembers the fear in his voice when he told her about how their family is being targeted. Wendy trashes her limbs and hits every part of the man’s body that she can reach. Her body hits the ground, a large boot steps on her neck, and she feels tears falling down her face; she’s helpless and angry and terrified and her body trembles with the force of it all. 

     She hears the gravelly voice of her kidnapper yell at her to stay down, his boot digging harder on her neck, before gunshots fill the room. 

     Her kidnapper falls beside her, blood pours out of his mouth, and he looks at her. “This is not the end, Princess,” he spits. “We’ll come back for you and for your father someday,” he threatens, almost smiling as life leaves his eyes. 

     “Wendy,” A figure floats above her. “I’m going to take you home, alright?” 

     Wendy doesn’t say Okay or Thank you because those things are silly and irrelevant right now, because she almost died and she’s crying and she’s covered in blood. 

     She’s conscious for a few more seconds before she’s not and the last thing Wendy feels is a pair of strong arms lifting her off of the ground.

 

2

     That turned out to be the leader of Wendy’s new security team. 

     Wendy protested as much as she could, of course, but her father refuses to listen. He thinks it’s unwise for his children to only have one security between them, especially because of how the previous team saved Wendy’s sister first and almost forgot about her. 

     Wendy understands that her life is in danger now more than ever, but most times it seems like having her bodyguards around makes her nightmares worse. In a way, Wendy always kind of imagined this was what life would be for her at some point, but she didn’t anticipate feeling trapped every second of everyday.

     Wendy also begged her father to change the head of her security, and again, she was unsuccessful. Apparently, Irene is the best in their agency. Now, Wendy wouldn’t mind having the second best in the agency if that means she’d have a little bit of space, but she decides to hold her tongue; her father is already too stressed and it wouldn’t help him if he’s to be burdened with Wendy’s complaints.

     Irene is...tiny. That’s the first thought in Wendy’s head when she was formally introduced to her; she’s the tiniest security officer Wendy has ever seen. But that doesn’t hinder her from doing her job, though. 

     In the 3 months they’ve spent together, she is always exactly 7 steps away from Wendy, thoroughly inspects anything that Wendy shows the slightest bit of attention to, and she—Wendy thinks—finds pleasure in saying no. Irene is strict and guarded and she never strays from whatever book bodyguards follow. She’s focused, professional, and very intimidating.

     And Wendy feels something bubbling inside of her whenever there’s less than 7 steps between her and Irene. Or whenever her hand grazes Irene’s. Or whenever she feels Irene looking at her. Or whenever her own eyes land on Irene. And Wendy isn’t dumb; she knows having a crush—no matter how small—on her bodyguard is unwise and will only bring a mountain of problems. She knows her duties and responsibilities to her family and to her nation. 

     But it didn’t help that Irene is as suffocating as she is beautiful. She knows what buttons to push to drive Wendy past the point of annoyance and exactly what to do to so Wendy would fall right back to staring at Irene and her stupidly beautiful fa—

     Anyway, she knows she shouldn’t be angry at Irene for doing her job, it’s also not her fault that she’s amazing at it, but Wendy would at least appreciate it if Irene cracks a smile once or twice. 

     Especially right now, as they’re running from something that Irene describes as “dangerous.” And maybe it is Wendy’s fault for posting where they were headed to in her social media accounts, but no one told her that having lunch outside puts her life in danger. 

     So she runs, glances at the perpetual scowl on Irene’s face that signals a long lecture that will be given to her when they return to the palace, and she almost considered letting whoever is chasing them to kill her. Almost.

     They round to a corner and see a group of men running towards them. 

     “,” Irene hisses. She orders the other bodyguards to keep the group of men busy, grabs Wendy’s forearm, and drags her to the opposite direction. Wendy would complain about Irene hurting her arm, but Irene’s scowl has increased two levels, her neck full of sweat, and her hand is almost white from gripping her gun so tightly, so Wendy decides to keep shut. 

     “Princess! We’re coming for you!” A loud voice hollers behind them, almost taunting, followed by a series of laughter. 

     Wendy feels a flash of fear inside of her, and she remembers the bloody, smiling face of her kidnapper, and it’s as if she’s in that warehouse again, running for her life. 

     Bringing her back to reality, Irene’s grip on Wendy’s arm tightens, pulling her closer and says, “Faster, Princess!”

     “I’m in heels!” Wendy exclaims, because they’ve been running for a good 15 minutes now and her feet is very close to bleeding and god Irene can’t be serious. “I seriously don’t think I can last,” Wendy added.

     Irene grumbles and half pushed/half dragged Wendy towards a narrow alley. She gets on her knees, and before Wendy could say anything, starts to remove the straps of Wendy’s heels. They hear the gunshots and footsteps getting closer, and Wendy sees Irene’s hands shaking—there are a lot of straps on her leg. 

     “Princess! Where are you?” The voice was a few feet away.

     “,” Irene whispers, her voice almost shaking. She looks around the alley, searching for something they can hide behind, and sees nothing. “, , .”

     “It’s okay,” Wendy says because Irene’s sweating a lot and her face is red and it felt like she needed for someone to tell her that everything’s going to be okay. “I’m sorry for posting wh—”

     The rest of the sentence died in Wendy’s throat though because in one swift movement, Irene removes her coat, puts it around Wendy as she presses her against a wall, and the brick is harsh against Wendy’s back even with Irene’s coat protecting her and this is the closest Irene’s ever been to Wendy, but none of that matters because Irene is kissing her like Wendy’s the most special, breathtaking thing Irene’s ever touched. 

     Irene pulls away after, leaving Wendy dazed and weak and confused. 

     “They’re gone,” Irene exhaled.

     “Yeah.” Wendy leans in closer, “Wha—Why did you do that?” she breathes. 

     “People generally try to ignore strangers making out,” Irene answers.

     Wendy blinks. “Oh.”

     “Next time you want to kill yourself, do it after my duty with you is finished,” Irene mumbles. She takes a step back—exactly 7 steps away from Wendy—and runs a shaky hand through her hair. 

     Wendy crosses her arms. “And when is that exactly? When will I be rid of you?” 

     “Unfortunately, Princess, you’re stuck with me.” Irene fishes her handheld transceiver out of her pocket and starts to give orders to her people. 

     Something in Wendy’s stomach stirs and she feels sick, especially when Irene casually tells her that they have to move as if Wendy’s skin isn’t burning with the guard’s touch, and Wendy couldn’t help but find it strange how the deep ache in her chest outweighs the cramp in her feet.

 

3

     Wendy wakes up, cold sweat dripping down her skin as she in a breath. It was vivid and Wendy is shaking and terrified, but her door bursts open and a pajama-clad, worried-looking Irene hurriedly enters her room.

     “Princess, are you okay?” She tucks Wendy’s stray hair behind her ear. Irene looks around her room, starts inspecting every corner, and when she’s satisfied that there’s nothing that can harm Wendy, she asks, “I heard you scream, what’s wrong?” 

     Tears escape Wendy’s eyes and she feels Irene wipe them away. “Nightmare,” she whispers. 

     Irene stares at her for a moment, worry swirling with the browns of her eyes, before sighing and wrapping her arms around Wendy. “Shhh, you’re safe, Princess, it’s okay,” she runs her run through Wendy’s hair. “I’m here, you’re okay. You’re safe,” she wraps her arms tighter around Wendy’s shaking body and wipes as many tears as she could. 

     It took Wendy 10 minutes (and the right shoulder of Irene’s pajama top to be drenched in tears) to calm down. And maybe it’s because Wendy is sleepy and tired and Irene’s fingers on her hair is so comforting that Wendy couldn’t help but say, “I’m sorry you’re stuck with me.”

     Irene’s fingers on Wendy’s hair stops. “What?”

     Wendy sighs. “I always make you angry and put your life in danger and do the things you don’t want to do and I know it’s your job but,” she takes a deep breath, “Your job shouldn’t get you killed.”

     Irene chuckles. “Some jobs can get you killed.”

     “And that’s stupid!” Wendy exclaims. “Why are you a royal guard anyway? You’re young and beautiful! You should be an actress or I don’t know, uh, something science-y because you look smart, too!”

     Irene’s arms tighten around Wendy. “I was sold to the agency. I can’t not be a royal guard.”

     “Sold? What do you mean sold?” Wendy grabs Irene’s face. “Did my father buy you?”

     Irene shakes her head. She removes Wendy’s hands on her face and starts to put some distance between them. “I think this is a conversation for another time, Your Highness.”

     “Don’t—don’t leave please,” Wendy begs, her hand tightening their hold on Irene’s pajamas. 

     Irene bites her lower lip and Wendy knows it’s because sleeping beside the princess is probably number 1 on what guards should not do and she’s sure that Irene was going to say no. That is until Irene got under the covers, wraps her arms around Wendy and whispers, “Okay, I won’t. I promise.”

     But when Wendy woke up that morning, she wakes up alone. Well, alone except for the single stem of rose beside her. 

 

4

     “Have you thought about marriage, Your Royal Highness?” One of her guards, Seulgi, asks. Unlike Irene, Seulgi is actually friendly with Wendy, and even has no shame in walking beside her.

     Wendy wanted to walk around the palace—technically, she wanted to walk outside the palace, but Irene said no because apparently someone informed them that it’s unsafe for Wendy to leave the property—so they ended up in the palace’s gardens. 

     “That duty falls on my older sister,” she answers. “And I like to think I still have 5-8 years before I even entertain the idea of being tied down,” she sits on the edge of the fountain, dipping her hand on the water. She brings her attention back to Seulgi, “Do you think I’ll be allowed to go for a swim at the beach soon?”

     “Uh,” Seulgi glances at Irene, who is lurking a few steps behind them, “It’s better to ask Officer Bae, Your Royal Highness.”

     “I don’t know,” Wendy turns her head to look at Irene. “I have a feeling she’s not fond of me,” she mutters. Irene stares back at her and Wendy feels something in her stomach flip upside down. She immediately breaks eye contact.

     Seulgi laughs—a deep belly laugh that takes Wendy by surprise. “You’ve never been farther from the truth, Your Ro—” A voice in her handheld transceiver interrupts Seulgi. “The King’s security is asking for me, Princess. I have to go,” she says before leaving Wendy alone beside the fountain. 

     A few moments later, Wendy feels a body sit beside her. 

     “Would you mind if I joined you, Princess?” Irene asks. There’s uncertainty in her eyes, which is surprising because Wendy has never seen that before, and her hands are gripping the edge of her coat. The last time Wendy saw Irene like this was during the whole ordeal in the alley, and they have never addressed that since it happened. But they have grown closer since that day, and sometimes Wendy catches Irene looking at her like she wants to say something, but then she returns to her perpetual scowl and Wendy’s left wondering if she imagined the whole thing. 

     Wendy shakes her head. “No, no, it’s alright but I thought you’re not allowed to go nearer than 7 steps away from me?” she jokes.

     Irene cracks a small smile and Wendy loses her breath. That’s another new thing today. “Thank you,” Irene says. 

     “You—You’re very pretty when you smile,” Wendy stutters, because Irene is looking at her so intently—she’s staring at her like that again—and Wendy’s hand is itching to touch Irene’s.

     A twinge of pink appears on Irene’s cheeks. “I’ll keep that in mind, Princess,” she whispers. She drums her fingers on her lap. “You know, this is my favorite place in the palace,” she says.

     “Why is that?”

     Irene shrugs. “You always look your calmest when you’re here,” she inches closer to Wendy. “I have made it my duty to try and make you feel this safe and calm in every situation.” 

     Wendy hums, and lets the silence settle comfortable between them. 

     “Offi—”

     “Princ—”

     Irene laughs and Wendy’s heart lurches and drops beneath her feet. “I apologize, Your Highness,” she says.

     Wendy shakes her head. “No, what were you saying?”

     “No, no, you go first, Princess.”

     “No, it’s alright.”

     Irene places her hand on Wendy’s lap. “I insist, Your Highness.”

     Wendy’s entire face flushes. “Do, um, do you see us as friends, Officer?”

     Irene pursed her lips. “You are as important to me as my friends are.”

     “That’s not an answer,” Wendy points out.

     Irene shrugs. “Do you remember when I told you that I was sold, Princess?” 

     “I thought that was a dream,” Wendy whispers.

     “I know that it’s almost inevitable with this job, but I’ve always despised the idea of dying for someone—especially for a royal. But now, if it’s in exchange for your life, I wouldn’t think twice,” Irene gives her a tiny, heartbreaking smile that absolutely breaks Wendy’s world in half. “Does that answer your question, Your Highness?”

     Wendy cups Irene’s cheek and looks at her face closely and says, “You’re a puzzle, Officer Bae.”

     “What do you mean?”

     “It seems like there’s two of you. One that is strict and finds entertainment in making my life hell, and one that is caring and, dare I say...sweet.”

     “I,” Irene sighs. “ I can’t be distracted, not when it is your life on the line but,” she puts her hand on top of Wendy’s, “just know that my duties and my interests do not align.”

     Wendy takes a deep breath and decides to be brave. “Your interests, I—pardon me for being blunt, but does your interests involve me?”

     “If you’d allow me to also be frank, Your Highness, my interests only involve you.”

     Irene’s words itch under Wendy’s skin, unexpected and insistent, and she doesn’t quite know how to react. “O—oh,” Wendy breathes. Overwhelmed, she tries to put some distance between her and Irene, but this backfires as she slips off of the edge of the fountain and she feels an arm wrap around her waist and suddenly she’s so close to Irene that she can feel the guard’s exhales on her lips. The blush on Irene’s cheeks deepened, and she’s warm all over, and Wendy thinks she’s beautiful, so beautiful. 

     Irene helps Wendy get up on her feet, squeezes her hand before fully letting go. “I’ll give you your space now, Your Highness,” and she’s gone, but Wendy feels something inside her heal.

 

5

     Wendy fidgets in her chair. She really doesn’t know what else she can do. She tries to distract herself by looking out the window of the car, look at the people passing by; she’s seen so many that she already lost count. She looks at how carefree they look, how they’re living as if this is just another day—and maybe for them it is.

     Seulgi has been giving her worried looks over the rearview mirror since Irene left her in Seulgi’s care. Wendy thinks staying as professional about this situation is the least she could do—she convinces herself that it’s what Irene would’ve wanted. But it’s hard to stay professional when tears are threatening to leave her eyes, but Wendy knows that it’s her fault in the first place. She got too attached to her bodyguard. She let herself get too close and now there’s a chance that she’ll never see her again. 

     After Seulgi’s 11th glance, Wendy breaks. “Seulgi, have you heard anything back?”

     “No, not yet, Princess, I’m sorry,” Seulgi answers. She must have seen the pained look on Wendy’s face because she continues, “Officer Bae is the best in our batch, you know? She once managed to escape a group of men thirsty for her head so I’m sure she’s okay.”

     “Yeah,” Wendy breathes. Being the best doesn’t necessarily make one invincible and Wendy knows that if the situation needs it, Irene will be all too willing to do something brave...or idiotic.

     “—ficer Kang,” The police radio starts cracking. “Kang, we ne—one.”

     Seulgi turns the volume knob. “10-1 Can you repeat that? Over.”

     “Co—eight. We have a code eight 10-45 over.”

     Wendy sees blood leave Seulgi’s face. “Status?” Seulgi says, her voice calm and even, but her hand white-knuckled on the steering wheel.

     “Seulgi, what’s happening?” Wendy grips Seulgi’s arm, clear panic in her tone. “What’s happening? What’s wrong?” She leans further to the radio. “Officer Park, is Irene okay?”

     “No, she’s—gah, Irene, come on!”

     “Don’t tell her,” Irene’s voice fills the car and for a moment, Wendy thought she was flying. Irene is alive. She’s talking to her. She’s not dead.

     “Irene? Irene, can you hear me?!” Wendy is practically shouting at the radio now, but she doesn’t care because Irene is alive on the other end of the call.

     “Officer Park,” Seulgi presses, “Joy.” 

     “Yeah, I’m here.” Joy pants.

     “What do you need an ambulance for?” Seulgi asks. Wendy closes her eyes briefly, but nothing could prepare her for Joy’s response. 

     “Irene’s shot.”

 

1

     Irene didn’t wake up that day. 

     Or at least, that’s what Wendy heard. She wasn’t allowed to go to the hospital until the next day, when Irene was moved out of the ER and into a private room. 

     It took Wendy 7 deep breaths, the horribly sterile stench of the hospital practically suffocating her, before she pushes the door open in Irene’s room. She can barely hear what Seulgi was telling her though because multiple gunshot wounds and broken ribs are still echoing in her head.

     And it hurts, the kind of hurt that buries itself deep within, when she sees Irene for the first time. She slowly walks to the side of Irene’s bed, the cuts and bruises across her skin confirms Wendy’s theory that Seulgi didn’t tell her everything that happened in Irene’s mission. 

     Irene looks peaceful—almost asleep—if Wendy looks past the various tubes and machines attached to her, and if this was a fairytale, Wendy should only kiss her and Irene would be okay. But it isn’t. So Wendy only presses a kiss to Irene’s hand and she doesn’t let go until she absolutely has to. 

     It was 5 minutes before midnight when Wendy feels something tapping her head. She groans and buries her face deeper on her pillow. Except it wasn’t her pillow, and Wendy remembers that she fell asleep on her seat beside Irene’s hospital bed.

     Wendy head shoots up and looks straight at Irene, who is confused and sleepy and awake.

     “Why are you sleeping on a chair, Your Highness?” Irene croaks. Her voice is tired and scratchy and Wendy is crying because Irene’s on a hospital bed and she’s still thinking of her. 

     “I thought I was going to lose you,” Wendy sniffles.

     Irene released an exaggerated sigh. “I don’t believe that’s an adequate reason to let your neck and back suffer, Your Highness.”

     Wendy rolls her eyes and tears stream down her cheeks but she whispers, “I really thought you were gone.”

     Irene shakes her head. “You’re stuck with me, remember?” she says. “I’m here, and soon enough I’ll save you again from your horrendous decisions.”

     Wendy smiles because she wants to tell Irene that she makes her heart bloom in her chest and Irene must be loved by the gods because what else could explain why Irene’s quite literally perfect? But even that’s not enough to fully explain what Wendy feels, so she grips Irene’s hand tighter and says, “But will I ever get the chance to save your life?” 

     Irene reaches over and wipes Wendy’s tears away. “You already have.”