The evening cicadas sang faintly in the stillness surrounding the Sala Sirarom. A full moon floated above the treetops, casting a milky glow over the four directional pavilions.

In the shadows of the east and south pavilions, two women sat silently, biding their time.

"Supimpa… do you think I was right?"

Pen Duean whispered, eyes fixed on the path leading from the Phapang maiden’s quarters.

Supimpa gave a small smile. "We’ll find out soon enough. If someone comes again tonight, in full veil and red silk… there’s definitely something going on."

Soft footsteps approached. A figure in crimson silk, face veiled tightly, moved cautiously toward the north pavilion.

Pen Duean leaned in, whispering, "There they are…"

Both women emerged from the shadows.

"Lady Buakes…" Supimpa called, voice firm yet calm. "Won’t you greet us at all?"

The veiled figure flinched slightly, then turned abruptly, clearly intent on fleeing. But Pen Duean was quicker—she stepped forward and, in one swift motion, pulled the veil away.

Moonlight spilled across a face…

Not Buakes—but Kham-In.

His eyes widened in shock. He immediately tried to cover his face with both hands, but it was too late. His cheeks flushed crimson with panic.

"I… I’m sorry… Please, don’t tell anyone…"

His voice trembled into a whisper as he brought his palms together and slowly sank to his knees.

"For the sake of my mother… I beg you. I had no other choice…"

Supimpa and Pen Duean exchanged glances. Supimpa sighed softly and lowered herself to sit in front of him.

"I don’t blame you, Kham-In… Of all people, it’s you who’s endured the most."

Pen Duean offered a kind smile, gently touching his arm.

"Don’t kneel. We already see you… as a friend."

"Not an enemy. And certainly not someone lesser, as others claim."

Tears welled in Kham-In’s eyes. His hands still trembled.

"Thank you… both of you… for your kindness…"

Supimpa let out a light laugh.

"We’re not that eager to marry the Prince, either."

"But it’s our ‘duty’... and that’s why we’re here."

Pen Duean nodded.

"If you’re doing this from your heart… then I want you to know—we’re on your side, Kham-In."

She looked at his still-blushing face. In the moonlight, it shimmered with a quiet radiance.

Though he only wore the borrowed garments of the Phapang princess, on him… it looked almost divinely made.

Supimpa tilted her head in admiration.

"Kham-In… do you know how beautiful you look in this outfit?"

Pen Duean chimed in with a grin,

"If Prince Wihokrat saw you right now, I swear his heart would tremble."

Kham-In turned an even deeper shade of red. He waved his hand shyly and spoke in a whisper,

"Please… don’t say such things… I’m dying of embarrassment…"

Supimpa chuckled as she picked up the veil from the floor.

"Pretty as you are, it’s best we cover you up again—before anyone else sees."

Pen Duean helped gently, re-draping the veil with careful hands.

Kham-In stood upright, slowly letting out a breath. The fear began to ease—replaced by a soft warmth radiating from the two friends.

"Tomorrow…" Pen Duean said softly,

"We’re heading to the market. Would you like to come with us, Kham-In?"

Supimpa smiled.

"Don’t worry about outfits or status. Just come as a friend—we’ll buy sweets, look at cloth… and share a laugh or two."

Kham-In’s eyes widened slightly, then he nodded slowly.

"I’d love to… But it depends on whether Lady Buakes allows it."

Pen Duean reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"If you can sneak away… I’ll be waiting at the temple gate. Just after sunrise."

And in that quiet night at Viengphasom, laughter echoed softly from the north pavilion once more.

Not the sound of rivals…

But of friends—hearts gently beginning to intertwine.

…

Gongs rang rhythmically in the royal audience hall.

Prince Rajasihavong stepped in, met by a heavy silence. Before him stood the grand teak throne, trimmed in gold.

King Silaves sat unmoving. His eyes were calm, yet sharp as lightning held back from striking.

"Prince Rajasihavong…"

His voice was soft—but thunderous in weight.

"The cloth-weaving contest nears its conclusion. And you know… this is not simply about choosing one queen. The daughters of all five realms must be wed to you—to secure political ties."

The Prince bowed his head, though his face remained taut.

"I understand, Your Majesty."

"Do you?"

The King narrowed his eyes.

"You don’t act like it. I’ve seen it in your behavior—favoring one woman above the rest. Are you letting personal feelings shake the very throne you were born to uphold?"

The Prince lifted his gaze, meeting his father’s eyes.

"If this throne must stand upon a foundation that cages the heart… then I accept that, Your Majesty."

"Watch your words!"

The King’s voice cracked through the chamber like thunder.

"You were born of royal blood—not to choose love, but to bear the future of Viengphasom!"

"Then where does the future of my heart lie?"

The Prince spoke back with steady voice.

"Must my entire life belong to everyone… except myself?"

Silence engulfed the hall.

King Silaves clenched the arms of his throne so tightly the veins bulged. His face flushed with fury, yet his voice dropped to a chilling calm.

"You may not understand now… but when this kingdom crumbles because you defied your duty, then you will know—royal blood is not a game."

"If royal blood means ripping away the one I love…

then I’d rather not live at all."

The Prince’s voice was low—but unwavering, his eyes burning with fierce resolve.

The King rose, his glare sharper than any sword.

"Leave. Before I do something I’ll regret."

Prince Rajasihavong bowed deeply—saying no more. He turned away… and walked out.

Sunlight streamed through the carvings on the palace doors. But inside him, his father’s words still thundered:

“Your life does not belong to you…”

And yet, in that moment… he thought of one man.

The one who made him wish—just for one night—to be an ordinary man.

…

Moonlight spilled over the old wooden servant quarters. The night breeze drifted gently, urging the world to sleep. But within the little room beneath the eaves, Kham-In remained restless.

He turned on his side, again and again. From the corner came the soft breath of his sleeping mother, Mae Lah… but his own heart was filled with questions.

Then—

Tick… tick…

A pebble tapped the wooden window.

Kham-In sat up, drew his blanket around his shoulders, and crept to the window.

Beneath the gardenia bush outside, a man in plain patterned fabric and a villager’s headwrap looked up to meet his eyes.

It was Prince Rajasihavong.

But now—he wore no royal garb. Only a smile… meant for Kham-In alone.

"Ai…?"

Kham-In whispered the word faintly.

The Prince placed a finger to his lips, signaling for silence—then gestured toward the large rain tree behind the servant quarters.

Kham-In hesitated only a moment, then wrapped his shawl tighter and slipped quietly out the side door.

…

Beneath the rain tree

Moonlight shimmered on the ground like scattered glass. The two sat beside each other… saying nothing at first.

Kham-In knelt with his arms around his knees, tense.

The Prince placed his hand lightly on the earth beside him. Silence lingered, until…

"I saw my father today."

Kham-In turned to him but said nothing.

"He told me I must marry all five princesses. Even if I choose one as queen, the other four must still become consorts. For politics. For duty. Because I’m a Prince."

Kham-In lowered his eyes, clutching his shawl tightly.

The Prince turned to him again.

"And what do you think?"

"It… it’s your duty," Kham-In said softly.

"What you must do… doesn’t involve the heart."

"And what if I weren’t a Prince?"

That deep voice asked again.

"What if I were just a man—who loved someone with all his heart? What would you say then?"

Kham-In stayed silent. His lips trembled, eyes glistening unexpectedly.

"Then follow your heart…"

he whispered.

His voice shook—but it was sincere.

The Prince gave a faint smile, then reached out and held Kham-In’s hand.

"Then let me step down from being a Prince—just for one night."

Kham-In looked at him, lips parting to speak—

But before any word left, the Prince leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

That kiss… was lighter than dew, gentler than the night breeze brushing past a wooden porch.

"Tonight… I want to be just Ai—your Ai…"

One hand reached up, gently brushing Kham-In’s soft, black hair. It was slightly damp from dew—like freshly dyed silk on a loom. Silk that could never be complete without a heart to guide its weave.

Kham-In shut his eyes tightly. His breath was slow… but shaky. Not from fear—but from something inside his chest slowly opening.

From servant bound low…

To one willing to accept the touch of someone who stood above all.

The Prince’s hand continued stroking his hair… as if calming the threads of silk.

As if saying:

Tonight, I am not a Prince—

But only a man…

Who wishes to weave love into your heart.

…

Beneath the rain tree branches glowing in moonlight

Their breaths intertwined softly—like threads quietly being woven together.

There was no sound.

Only two hearts… slowly stitching into one another.

And tonight, Ai asked for no claim, no promise of forever.

Only to sit beside the one…

who made his heart beat this way.