Content Warning: This chapter contains implied sexual violence, coercion, abuse of power, physical harm, psychological trauma, and graphic emotional distress. Please read with care.

The moment Miye's voice rang through the arena, he knew what he had done.

He had chosen mercy over silence, and in doing so, he had shattered the Prince of Hwachon's pride before the eyes of the world.

Yugwon did not need to turn his head for Miye to know. He had lived beside him long enough to understand the weight of that stillness, the danger hidden in the absence of immediate wrath. To humiliate the prince, for the sake of a foreigner he had never met, was an unforgivable transgression.

Yet, he could not sit by and watch a man be maimed beyond redemption.

That night, the summons came. Miye knelt the moment he entered, his forehead pressed to the cold floor, his body trembling like a fragile branch beneath frost.

"Please forgive me," he said, voice barely holding together. "I am willing to accept any punishment--"

"Rise."

The command cut through the room like a blade.

Yugwon reclined upon his bed, draped in a loose inner robe that lay open, showcasing his muscular figure, and black hair spilling over broad shoulders like ink across silk.

Smoke curled lazily from the pipe in his fingers, the air thick with a cloying sweetness that of a melted brown sugar that made Miye's head ache.

The prince's eyes gleamed in the dim light -- dark, cruel, amused.

Miye rose slowly, gaze lowered.

"I admire that you realized your mistake," Yugwon said softly. "But mistakes must be corrected. Otherwise… they grow."

Miye's fingers curled into his sleeves.

"You are precious to me," Yugwon continued, rising at last. "And precious things must be shaped carefully. Preserved perfectly."

Miye felt it then - the certainty, cold and absolute. The smoke he had tried not to breathe only grew stronger, walking directly towards him.

Before he could retreat, hands seized him.

His face met soft cushions, yet the impact stole the breath from his lungs. The prince's presence overwhelmed him - smoke, heat, authority - until Miye could no longer tell where he ended and Yugwon began. Their mouths interlocked, Yugwon tried to dominate the small mouth he tried to devour. His tongue was hastily rolling around his prey's. He tasted of smoke and caramel, mixed with a hint of bitterness from rare rice wine. The beast breathed raspily and finally took a break to catch his breath. As he pulled Miye's head back, he wiped his wet pink lips with his thumb.

Tears welled before Miye could stop them. He could only stare, unmoving, his expression emptied of resistance.

"My lord…" Miye whispered, desperation breaking through. "You know… my condition...I cannot-"

Yugwon smiled.

"But I am not the one doing it tonight."

The doors opened, and several footsteps entered. Four palace guards were summoned at this very moment. As they entered, they stared at the scene before them in bewilderment.

Miye lay on the floor, his hands restrained, a tight cloth tied around his small wrists. His eyes, now painted with hues of red, were a witness to his incessant crying.

They stared down at the naked "princess" in horror. How could they possibly...

Yugwon only sat at the edge of his bed, cross-legged, and stared at the scene before him with indifference. The four men, confused about what to do, spoke to each other in whispers.

What's happening? The flower princess was a man? What does the prince want us to do?

"What is it? Not your liking?" Yugwon spoke with almost no emotion.

"Your highness...how can we..."

"Oh, do not concern yourself with anything else right now. It is an order. Do or die. "

"....?"

"Consider it your chance to get a taste of the flower princess. Now, entertain me."

One of the men gulped. He grabbed the white jar that lay on the floor and forcefully fed Miye the aphrodisiac liquid. Miye was unable to gulp down the whole bottle, leaving it drenching his fair skin as the liquid trickled down.

He glanced at Yugwon several times. However, Yugwon showed no interest. He only watched, and watched, and watched.

The room filled with muffled sounds - ragged breaths, stifled cries, the scrape of movement against skin and stone. Miye's consciousness drifted, splintered, as though his spirit had fled while his body remained behind to endure.

He watched every single sight of it.

"No matter what we do, he doesn't get hard." One of the men pointed out, sucking on the small member that drooped down. Miye's back curled upwards, feeling a shock run down his spine.

"Don't you get it? He can't because it's dysfunctional. That's why he walks around like a woman."

"Ha!"

Another thrust, and Miye jolted up. His eyelids widened in shock or pain or maybe both, his nose running, and his lips as red as dry scrubbed skin.

Pain came in waves, shame followed, and then numbness. Alas, Miye couldn't save these people anymore.

"Please..." he mouthed the words, looking directly at Yugwon's indifferent eyes, "....kill them for me."

Understanding his last words, Yugwon's eyes lit up, as if he had been waiting for this moment. His lips curled upwards, and in a split second, four heads were severed in front of Miye's half-unconscious eyes.

Silence fell heavy and suffocating.

Miye lay amid the aftermath, his body slack, blood cooling beneath him like dark water. He no longer saw clearly. Tears streamed unchecked, indistinguishable from the stains around him.

Yugwon approached at last, lifting Miye as though he weighed nothing. He freed him with careful hands, almost tender now, as if this had always been the intention.

"You should have told me sooner," Yugwon murmured near his ear. "Why suffer so long for those who meant nothing to you?"

Miye did not answer.

Wrapped in warm blankets, cradled against a chest that had orchestrated his ruin, he slipped into darkness. Yugwon held him close, unmoved by the blood staining his bed.

To him, the night had ended exactly as it should have.

....

Ever since that night, Hwa Miye had fallen terribly ill.

Whenever sickness claimed him, it never released him easily -- two full weeks would pass before his body even began to recover. And yet, despite this, his presence was demanded at court by the very man who had been the cause of that gruesome night.

But did the Prince care?

Dragging himself out of bed, Miye forced his trembling body upright and stepped out of the room. His vision swayed. Before he could reach the door, his knees buckled, and he nearly collapsed-- Only to be caught instantly.

Startled, Miye lifted his gaze.

Before him stood a woman with gentle wrinkles etched by time, her beauty calm and dignified. She was moon-like, fair and distant, yet carrying a warmth that soothed rather than blinded. Her hair was neatly tied into a bun, palace attire draped over her slender frame.

"Your Highness," she said softly, her voice calm and steady, like a lullaby once sung by a loving mother. "I strongly suggest that you rest. You are not well."

"…Who are you?" Miye asked faintly.

The woman supported him with care, her brown eyes curved into a kind smile.

"I am Choi Yuna, your newly appointed maid," she explained gently. "The Prince assigned me to you yesternight. However, I did not wish to disturb you so late at night, so I was unable to present myself. Please forgive me."

"…Never mind."

"My lady," she continued, scanning his thin garments down to his bare feet, "may I help you change your clothes first? You are dressed far too lightly. This will only worsen your condition."

Miye had never truly known how to care for himself. As a child, his mother had done everything for him, and after she abandoned him, he had grown accustomed to relying on the Prince instead.

The Prince, however, had never fulfilled that role.

"Then…" Miye murmured, something vulnerable seeping into his voice, "Please help me choose a warmer robe."

A strange warmth bloomed in his chest. It felt unfamiliar - long forgotten, like the ache of having wanted this kind of care for far too long.

Soon, Hwa Miye was dressed in new garments: a pristine white inner robe, twice as thick as the one he had worn before, and an extravagant blue outer robe adorned with intricate golden embroidery. A golden waist belt tied it all together, its delicate ornaments resting against his slender waist.

"Oh my…"

Choi Yuna froze.

In her thirty-two years of life, she had served countless nobles and witnessed innumerable beauties, but never anything like this. The Flower Princess truly seemed unreal, ethereal. Miye's intoxicating reddish-brown eyes blended seamlessly with the blue and gold of his attire. His long, silky hair, loosely tied with a jade hairpin, fell gracefully against his smooth, milky neck. He radiated an otherworldly aura, as though he had descended from the heavens rather than been born of mortal flesh.

"Shall we go?"

Yuna snapped back to herself. Right - His Highness had summoned the Princess to bid farewell to the Prince of Balliard.

Walking behind Hwa Miye, she observed the flower princess's composed steps. His posture never wavered, his back perfectly straight, his demeanor refined beyond his years. He carried himself not merely like royalty, but like someone who had been shaped by relentless discipline.

Pity crept into her heart. What kind of childhood must such a figure have endured to possess such restraint at the tender age of sixteen? This body behaved in the same manner as that of an adult in their late twenties. 

Upon arriving at the main court and sensing the oppressive presence of two powerful figures, Yuna immediately shrank behind Miye, desperate to avoid drawing any attention.

"I hear you summoned me, Your Highness," Miye said, gathering his robe as he bowed respectfully.

He then turned to the lusturous bronze prince beside Yugwon, offering the same courtesy, though the golden eye that met his gaze carried an intention Miye could not name.

"Greetings to you as well, Prince of Balliard."

"What admirable courtesy," Esha Fardeyn remarked. "You were clearly raised with great diligence."

Ha... If only he knew what Miye had endured after standing up for him.

Miye merely feigned his calm facade.

"However," Esha added, studying him, "You appear rather pale. Are you not feeling well?"

Each word - no, each letter directed toward Miye grated against Yugwon's nerves.

What does he think of himself? Speaking so informally in his presence!! No one would dare approach Miye, much less address him so freely. Yet this man did so effortlessly, fully aware of the nature of the so-called "sibling" bond between them.

"There was a reason she was absent from the farewell ceremony," Yugwon cut in sharply. "But I am a man of my word. It is because of you that my precious Miye forced herself out of bed today."

"I sincerely apologize for my ignorance," Esha replied smoothly, fully aware of Yugwon's possessive intent.

"It is of no concern," Miye interjected softly, "Then… may I ask why I was summoned?"

As Yugwon explained the proposal tied to their match, unease settled deep within Miye's chest. Whatever the Prince of Balliard intended to ask for, it would not be something trivial.

"What I desire for my victory is..."

Esha paused. His single golden eye locked onto Miye.

The intensity stole Miye's breath. It felt as though that gaze pierced straight through him, stripping away flesh to peer into his soul, as though it saw every impure sin he had ever committed.

Slowly, Esha raised his arm, the one that had once nearly been severed, and extended his finger.

It pointed directly at Hwa Miye.

Before Miye could react, steel rang through the air. A sword clashed violently against another, the sharp clang echoing throughout the courtroom.

Everyone froze.

What just happened? Did they see it correctly? The highly composed and reputed Prince of Hwachon tried to attack his esteemed guest - a reputable prince, no less!!

However, the blade never reached its target - blocked by a hooded man clad in armor. This was Esha Fardeyn's sole royal guard. 

"You dare attempt to take away the flower princess?!!" Yugwon roared, his eyes blazing red with fury.

"Honorable Prince of Hwachon, kindly retract your sword," the hooded man spoke calmly, his voice deep but face veiled under the darkness of the hood.

"You wish!!" Yugwon snarled, "How dare you stand on my palace and demand to take away an invaluable asset to the kingdom for your mere victory of a match that meant nothing!!"

"No meaning?" Esha chuckled and lowered his arm.

"Did it not mean anything to you after you damaged my eye? Did it also mean nothing to you when you almost severed my arm, condemning me to a crippled life?" His expression darkened, "Tell me, esteemed prince, does it mean nothing to you when you destroy a life? Do you do this so often now that it is so trivial to you?"

Yugwon could not contain his anger anymore. He trembled with rage, gritting his teeth as if to stop coughing blood out of rage. He was tempted to slit all their throats at once!

Just shut up! What do you know about Hwa Miye? Do you even know what kind of filthy person he is? Even a dog is better than him! Yet, you want to take him away? You DARE to take him away? I gave him a royal life, I gave him food and water, and even the air he breathes is under my command. You DARE take him away??

"Please," The gentle interruption drew all eyes, "Honourable Princes, there is no need for such a commotion."

Hwa Miye then turned to the tall and brooding, brown man and respectfully bowed.

"Prince of Balliard, you have rather made an impossible demand. I do not wish to leave. I am indebted to the prince in all things. Please... I request you to reconsider."

"..."

Yugwon watched Miye intently and lowered his sword. He had already predicted Miye would decline.

"If the Princess does not wish to come, I won't force it," Esha said at last.

His gaze flickered briefly toward the woman hiding behind Miye, and Miye could have sworn he saw a faint curl of amusement on his lips.

"Then I shall take something else," His eyes settled on Miye's jade hairpin. "That gem is rare. I have never seen one as such in Balliard."

Miye glanced at Yugwon. The command in his eyes was clear: Just give it to him and tell him to scram!

He removed the hairpin. His hair spilled freely, cascading over his shoulders. Gently, he brushed the strands aside and handed the pin forward. The hooded guard accepted it with a bowed head.

"It is getting late," Yugwon said coldly.

Esha Fardeyn smiled, as if he had successfully made the arrogant prince dance on his fingers. "Farewell," he slightly bowed at Yugwon. He glanced back before he left, now looking at the person whose hairpin he had indirectly removed.

The few strands on his face interrupted his cognac eyes. Esha was suddenly tempted to brush them aside from the princess's rosy cheeks and tuck them behind those fair ears, long golden earrings dangling in the wind. He wanted to take a good look at the faint mole that lingered beneath that drug-like brown eye.

"And...thank you," he said softly.

Esha Fardeyn of Balliard had departed.