Curses At Myself

"My Lady, have you woken up?"

A woman's voice pulled Miye out of his daze. The knocking must have been going on for quite some time, because he jolted upright the moment he heard it. A sharp pain pulsed through his temples, his second nightmare of the night still clinging to him like a curse.

He brushed aside the soft strands of hair that had fallen over his fair face and tucked them gently behind his ear. Then he walked to the door and eased it open only halfway, cautious.

"You are…?"

The woman standing outside was dressed as a court servant, but Miye didn't recognize her. She appeared to be in her late thirties, her posture stiff, her eyes nervous - clearly someone unfamiliar with the palace's routines.

Realizing her mistake, she immediately bowed.

"Forgive me, My Lady. I failed to introduce myself. My name is Sung Chunhee, your new maid. I was appointed only last night, but I did not wish to disturb your rest while you were asleep."

"Where is Yuna…?"

Yuna had been his maid for years. She knew him better than anyone in the palace - knew his habits, his nature, even the truth that the so-called Princess of this kingdom was, in fact, a man.

Her absence could only mean one thing.

"So he found out, huh…" Miye whispered under his breath.

Chunhee blinked, unsure if she should respond, but wisely kept silent. Miye sighed and stepped aside, reluctantly allowing her in.

She entered the room carrying a tray of covered dishes. But when she set it down, Miye noticed the disappointing size of the meal. Barely enough for a child, much less an adult.

So… he wasn't going to have a full stomach again.

Miye sat down at his dressing table while Chunhee moved to the wardrobe, carefully laying out his attire for the day.

"My Lady," she began, "the Prince will be coming to visit you today."

"What? Why would he come here?"

"He said it concerns an official matter that must be discussed with you, Milady."

"…I see."

"So I must prepare you in your most presentable state. Although your beauty alone is enough to astonish any man… the Prince mentioned he would like to see you properly dressed." Chunhee hesitated, lowering her voice. "He… said he would like to see you dolled up."

Miye didn't flinch. He had grown used to such descriptions, especially when they came from him.

To the Prince, Miye was never a person, only a possession. A gift was handed to him on his birthday - a doll he could name, control, dress, and display as he pleased.

Even calling him a woman was just another excuse to justify the Prince's whims.

Chunhee stepped closer, reaching for the ties of Miye's robe.

But before her fingers could graze the fabric, Miye's hand shot up and clamped around her wrist.

Her breath hitched, "F-Forgive me--"

Miye let go, his expression cold, controlled.

"I assume the Prince did not brief you about the rules of the Princess's chambers."

"N-No, Milady…"

"Well, here is one you must remember." His voice tightened, a trace of bitterness slipping through.

"I do not allow anyone to undress or dress me. I will handle it myself."

Chunhee bowed so quickly her hair brushed the floor.

"Of course, Milady. I-I shall wait outside until you call."

The moment the doors shut behind her, Miye exhaled sharply, as if releasing a breath he had been holding for years.

He loosened the knot of his top and watched his reflection in the mirror.

A small, frail body stared back -- delicate, almost breakable. His skin was milky white, except for the two faint pink petals of his chest.

If he had been allowed to live as a man… would he have looked different?

If he had continued his swordsmanship training, would his arms have carried strength instead of slender helplessness?

He shut down the thought. It was useless. It always had been.

He dressed in the attire Chunhee had laid out: layers of soft silk, the rich colors of royalty, the delicate embroidery that belonged to a woman of the court.

And just like every morning, the transformation was absolute.

Underneath the elegant skirts and flowing ribbons was a man's body, yet no one would ever suspect it.

All they ever saw was beauty -- the kind of ethereal grace that made even nobles forget to breathe.

A stunning woman. A perfect doll.

A lie the Prince had crafted with his own hands.

"You may come out now."

Chunhee stepped inside with small, cautious steps. Her breath caught the moment she saw Miye standing before her. Even expressionless, he was breathtaking, so much so that she almost forgot to breathe.

His long lashes framed eyes the color of warm cognac, rich amber with a quiet burn beneath the surface. In the light, they deepened into molten gold, smooth and intoxicating, like a sip of something rare. His hair, glossy and black, flowed down his back like strands of woven silk. And beneath his right eye, the small beauty mark stood out like a drop of ink on porcelain.

"M-Milady, you… you look beautiful…"

"Don't make that face," Miye replied flatly. Compliments meant nothing to him. "Come help me with my hair."

Chunhee nodded quickly and stepped behind him, her hands trembling as she began to tie his long, silky hair with delicate precision.

…