Side Chapter — “The Day Without Seonsaengnim (Part 2)

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After pacing the library ten times and attempting (unsuccessfully) to scold the junior scribes with a serious frown, Jiwon slumped dramatically into Seungho’s seat at the eastern window. The chair creaked under his weight — or more accurately, under the exaggerated flop of a boy who claimed he was *fine* but had spent the last three hours sulking.

His gaze wandered to the shelf nearby, where Seungho kept scrolls of blank parchment and old charcoal pencils. A spark of mischief returned to his eyes.

“…If you’re not here, I’ll just summon you on paper.”

He pulled out a fresh sheet, smoothing it on the desk. With sleeves rolled up and charcoal in hand, Jiwon began sketching — slowly, carefully, more focused than he usually allowed himself to be. He didn’t have Seungho’s refined artistry, but he remembered that stern face, those high cheekbones, the stiff hair always tied so properly, and that ever-present annoyed glint behind Seungho’s scholarly eyes.

“Look at you, Seonsaengnim,” he muttered under his breath, tongue poking out slightly in concentration. “You always act like the world is too loud for your ears and too stupid for your mind.”

The drawing started taking form — a serious Seungho in traditional scholar robes, arms crossed, looking like he was just one comment away from sighing. Jiwon smiled.

Then, beneath the sketch, he scribbled in uneven script:

**“Things I hate about Seonsaengnim:”**

* He always glares at me when I’m late.

* He never laughs at my jokes (even the *really* clever ones).

* He gives me more work when I’m sleepy.

* He talks to me like I’m still a kid.

* He never praises me (but I know he wants to).

He paused.

Then, beneath it, he added:

**“Things I like about Seonsaengnim:”**

* His handwriting.

* The way he says my name when I do something right.

* The way he stands beside me during court like he’s always ready to scold me *and* defend me.

* His stupid, stiff robes that he still makes look dignified.

* The way he smells like old paper and something warm.

* His voice, even when it’s annoyed.

* …Honestly, I think I like everything.

He stared at the last line. Then sheepishly scratched out the “I think.”

**“…I like everything.”**

The weight of the day — and the gentle warmth of the memory of Seungho’s presence — finally lulled him. His hand slid off the paper. His head slumped down onto the desk, resting beside his drawing, soft breaths slowly filling the quiet room.

Elsewhere, the palace gates opened to receive a returning carriage.

Seungho stepped down from it, dusted his travel robes, and made his way promptly to the throne chamber to report the completion of his diplomatic task.

The King greeted him with a nod, looking only mildly amused. “Efficient as always, Scholar Seungho. And just in time.”

Seungho bowed slightly. “Has anything occurred during my absence?”

The King chuckled. “Nothing of political urgency. Though I believe my son has made your absence a personal crisis.”

Seungho blinked. “...Pardon?”

The King leaned back with a sigh that carried fond exasperation. “He stormed in this morning demanding to know your whereabouts. Claimed it was an outrage that he wasn’t informed. Accused me of betrayal, if you can imagine.”

“…I can,” Seungho replied dryly.

The King smirked. “He’s likely still in the library. His guard mentioned he hasn’t left since afternoon.”

Seungho hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “I’ll see to him.”

The library was quiet.

But it didn’t take long for Seungho to notice the mess — a few ink smudges on the desk, the scattered pencils, the unused scrolls… and then, right there at his seat, sprawled over the desk with cheek pressed against paper, was Jiwon. Fast asleep, long hair loose and slipping over the side of the chair, lips slightly parted, expression soft and peaceful.

And beside him, a sketch.

Seungho blinked. His eyes traveled over the drawing — crude, but unmistakably him — and then to the writing beneath.

Each line tightened something in his chest. The honesty in the prince’s scrawl made Seungho’s throat constrict, especially the final line.

“…Honestly, I think I like everything.”

Seungho exhaled slowly and reached out, gently adjusting Jiwon’s hair so it wouldn’t smudge the charcoal. The boy stirred faintly but didn’t wake.

“…You foolish brat,” Seungho whispered, voice barely audible.

He carefully folded the parchment and tucked it safely into his sleeve.

Then, without waking him, Seungho took the seat beside him, resting his arm on the desk and, for the first time in days, simply let himself stay near the warmth he hadn’t realized he missed quite this much.