The gentle scratching of quills against parchment filled the library, a familiar and almost comforting sound. Seungho barely glanced up as he heard the expected knock on the door.

"Come in," he said simply, already knowing who it was.

Jiwon strolled inside, as he always did, plopping down across from him. "You know, you could at least pretend to be surprised when I visit," he grumbled.

Seungho didn’t look up. "I’d be surprised if you didn’t show up unannounced every day."

Jiwon scoffed. "Unannounced? This is our scheduled study session."

Seungho hummed noncommittally, flipping a page in the thick book before him.

The peaceful rhythm of their routine had barely settled when a sudden commotion outside the library made both men pause. The sound of hurried footsteps—too frantic, too desperate—echoed down the halls.

Then, the library doors burst open.

A palace guard stumbled inside, blood smeared across his armor, his breathing ragged.

Seungho shot up from his seat, his expression darkening. Jiwon, too, stood frozen in shock.

The guard barely managed a bow before rasping out, "Master Seungho, Your Highness—there’s an attack on the palace. The royal family is being targeted. You must leave. Now."

The words sent a cold chill down Jiwon’s spine. His heartbeat pounded in his ears.

"What…?" he breathed, his mind refusing to process the weight of the statement. "My parents—where are they? Are they safe?"

The guard hesitated. "We don’t know, Your Highness. The enemy is already inside the palace walls."

Panic seized Jiwon, his feet moving before his thoughts could catch up. "I have to go to them!"

But before he could take another step, a firm hand grasped his wrist, halting him in place.

"Jiwon, stop."

Jiwon turned, chest heaving, to see Seungho’s sharp, unwavering gaze locked onto him.

"You can’t just run into danger," Seungho said, his tone steady despite the chaos erupting around them. "We need to move—now."

"But my parents—!"

"Listen to me," Seungho interrupted, gripping his shoulders. "If you go to the palace now, you’ll be walking straight into their hands. Your father entrusted me with your safety—I won’t let you throw yourself into danger recklessly."

Jiwon clenched his jaw, his body trembling with frustration and fear. But Seungho’s grip was firm, grounding.

"Trust me," Seungho said, softer this time. "We will find out what happened, but first, we need to keep you safe."

Jiwon swallowed hard, the panic still clawing at his throat, but he forced himself to nod.

Seungho wasted no time, taking his hand and leading him swiftly toward the back of the library. He pushed aside a large wooden shelf, revealing a concealed passage behind it.

Jiwon blinked. "You had this here the whole time?"

Seungho didn’t answer, instead pulling him inside and sliding the shelf back into place.

The air in the hidden chamber was cool and dark, lined with provisions and weapons—clearly prepared in advance for a moment like this.

Seungho turned to Jiwon, his face unreadable. "We’ll wait here until it’s safe."

Jiwon exhaled shakily, rubbing his face. "And if it’s not?"

Seungho’s gaze was unwavering. "Then we fight."

Time crawled unbearably slow inside the hidden chamber. The silence was heavy, broken only by their breathing and the occasional distant clash of steel.

Jiwon sat against the cool stone wall, his arms wrapped around his knees, his mind an endless loop of dread. His parents. The palace. His people.

Seungho remained standing, arms crossed, every muscle in his body tense. His sharp ears listened for any sign of the outside world shifting. Then—

A noise.

The unmistakable sound of boots moving through the library.

Seungho’s heart clenched. They’re here.

He turned to Jiwon, pressing a finger to his lips for silence. Jiwon’s breath hitched, his wide eyes meeting Seungho’s in the dim light.

Seungho moved swiftly, grabbing a sheathed sword from the hidden supplies. Without hesitation, he reached for another and pressed it into Jiwon’s hand.

Jiwon’s fingers trembled around the hilt.

"Stay close to me," Seungho murmured.

Jiwon swallowed hard, nodding.

Seungho led him toward the back of the chamber, where another narrow passage stretched out into darkness. They moved quickly, the tunnel’s damp air wrapping around them as they made their escape.

Then, they emerged—only to freeze in place.

The world before them was unrecognizable.

The palace—once grand, standing tall against the sky—was now nothing but a skeletal ruin, engulfed in flames. The city that had once been filled with life now lay in devastation, its streets painted in red, its homes nothing but smoldering ash.

The sky loomed dark with thick, choking smoke, twisting with an unnatural red hue.

Seungho’s chest tightened as a cold realization settled over him.

"A demon raid."

His grip on the sword tightened. It had been years—decades, even—since the demons last set foot on these lands. Yet here they were, leaving nothing but ruin in their wake.

Beside him, Jiwon stood frozen, his playfulness, his ever-present mischief—all of it had been wiped from his face.

Then, without warning, his knees buckled.

Jiwon fell to the ground, his sword slipping from his grasp, his hands clenching into the dirt.

His breath came out in ragged gasps as his eyes filled with something Seungho had never seen before.

Pure, unfiltered grief.

"My home…" Jiwon whispered, his voice cracking. His fingers dug into the earth as if trying to grasp something solid, something real. "My parents… my people…"

Seungho turned to him, watching as the weight of it all crashed down on him.

He had always known Jiwon as the playful, troublesome prince—the one who complained about lessons, who tried to escape his studies, who smirked at him with endless mischief.

But now, before him, was not a prince.

Before him was a boy who had just lost everything.

Seungho’s throat tightened.

He knelt beside Jiwon, his voice steady despite the storm raging around them.

"Jiwon," he called softly, but there was no response.

The prince’s shoulders trembled, his body wracked with silent, gasping sobs.

Seungho hesitated only a moment before reaching out. His hand found Jiwon’s back, a firm yet gentle touch.

"Jiwon," he said again, more firmly this time.

Slowly, the prince turned his head, his tear-filled eyes locking onto Seungho’s.

Seungho exhaled, his own heart heavy, but his voice remained unwavering.

"You are still alive."

Jiwon’s breath hitched.

"And as long as you live," Seungho continued, his grip tightening slightly, "so does this kingdom."

Jiwon stared at him, his body shaking.

Then, with no warning, he clutched at Seungho’s robes, fingers curling into the fabric as his forehead pressed against Seungho’s shoulder.

Seungho stiffened for a moment, then slowly, cautiously, brought a hand up to rest against Jiwon’s back.

He let him grieve.

Because for the first time in his life, Jiwon was no longer just a prince.

He was the last hope of a fallen kingdom.