Dohyun did not know where his feet were carrying him. He only knew he had to run. Soft strands of his hair streamed behind him as the wind resisted his flight, yet he did not slow. He ran so fast that the sharp pain blooming in his gut, where he had been kicked, barely registered.

Only when his breath tore ragged from his chest did he finally stop.

He bent slightly, huffing, realizing he had wandered deep into the palace's inner corridors without awareness of direction. Silk-draped halls and polished stone blurred into one another until the air grew warm and heavy with mist.

He was now at the hot springs that lie inside the palace itself.

At his side stood a copper mirror. When his reflection caught his eye, he froze.

Did the princess really see him like this?

He looked like a wandering ghost torn from a battlefield: hair disheveled, robes ripped and stained, an unpleasant stench clinging stubbornly to him. A white cloth was bound around his scalded right arm, and his head, a faint dot of red seeping at one corner where blood had once flowed.

Standing there, the realization settled in. Since he was already here, he should wash himself. His robes, at least, needed thorough cleansing.

Without further thought, he slipped off his maroon robe and cast it aside. His fingers moved next to his inner shirt, loosening it, sliding the fabric off his broad back. Muscles shifted beneath his skin with each movement, scars of old memories lining his frame like silent witnesses.

Then his hand traveled downward, toward the knot of his trousers.

Only then did he realize...

His membrane had been upright for far too long, its swollen head straining against the fabric as though it might tear free at any moment.

How long had he been like this?

Since when…?

Heat rushed to his face as the memory surged to the surface.

It was when the princess whispered in his ear.

Petal-pink lips brushed close to his ear, whispering before a gentle tongue traced the shell of it, slow and deliberate. Each pass felt like cool water sliding over burning skin, sending trembling sensations rippling through his body.

His heartbeat thundered violently in his chest.

Just what am I imagining?! He tied back the knot of his trousers and angrily stomped to the end of the springs, where the water did not steam as much.

Rather, it was cold. 

He grabbed a wooden washbowl, scooped a full one, and immediately poured it upon himself. 

The shame, embarrassment, and frustration were painted on his face heavily. To think a mere commoner as him would have such inappropriate thoughts toward a Princess whom he swore not to be entertained with.

He had always found Kang Minho unreasonable when they spoke so greatly of her, never understanding why they would think so highly of the Princess who'd rarely show herself. 

But now...

Now he gets it all.

Her Highness, Hwa Miye, was just ethereal like that.

So much so that anyone and everyone would fall for her. He was nothing special. What he felt was something any man in this world would feel for Hwa Miye. 

"So I'm also like those scums out there..." he mumbled. 

He regretted it. He regretted letting his body get the better of him. 

That day, he quietly swore something to himself. 

Dohyun wondered if Hwa Miye's suggestion, that he should leave, was beginning to make sense. Perhaps it was. Perhaps leaving was best.

Perhaps he should keep several feet of distance from the Flower Princess.

Perhaps he should...

Thoughts flooded him endlessly. He pressed a hand to his burning face and lowered himself into the cold spring, water sliding over his bruised core, slowly swallowing him whole.

….

Shin Haerin rode hard, striking the horse again to urge it faster. It was already midday. She had to reach the palace now.

Hwa Miye had commanded her to find Choi Yuna. Dead or alive, bring her back.

She had once assumed Yuna would be living quietly somewhere in retirement. But after what she had witnessed, certainty abandoned her. Haerin had known Yuna for years. They were both closest to Hwa Miye.

As the image replayed in her mind, her deep brown eyes glistened. Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding as clear streaks slid down her chin.

After more than three hours of relentless travel, she burst through the palace's front gates. The guards flung the doors open at her arrival. She did not even stop to secure her horse, leaping down and abandoning it entirely as she sprinted into the corridors.

She stumbled more than once, her complexion pale as porcelain.

At last, she reached the courtroom.

Hwa Miye sat upon his throne of white peonies and chrysanthemums, a scroll held lightly in hand, cognac eyes intent like azaleas caught in still wind.

Her entrance shattered the silence.

His gaze snapped up. The scroll fell forgotten as he rushed toward her, wide sleeves billowing. Haerin ran to him as well, until her strength failed. She collapsed to her knees before him.

Her cries rang through the hall, raw and broken.

Hwa Miye's face twisted. He already knew what was to come out of that crying mouth.

With trembling hands, Haerin drew forth a silver chain stained with blood. She cupped it in her palms, lifting it like an offering.

"Y-Your Highness… it is hers… She's..."

Her voice shattered. "She's dead!"

Hwa Miye could not move.

The chain was unmistakable.

Yuna had worn it since the day she began serving him. He remembered asking her about it once out of curiosity. It was when Yuna was doing his hair, brushing those long strands of her. Back then, she had smiled and said it was a gift from her late beloved and that it was something she would treasure till death did them part.

And now, death had indeed done so.

"…Did you bring the body?"

He needed to see it...Or he couldn't believe it ..no, he didn't want to believe it.

Haerin nodded, pointing toward the entrance. She had left the body at the front gates of the palace.

The palace learned of Choi Yuna's death that very moment.

Hwa Miye did not pause to console Haerin. He turned and stormed toward the gates, drawn by a familiar wailing voice.

He had heard it before.

When he reached the entrance, silver-armored guards stood arguing with a small girl who clutched a scorched body tightly in her arms. The woman's face was unrecognizable.

"I won't leave! It's my mother!" the girl screamed, snot and tears mixed on her face.

Hwa Miye froze.

It was the same girl who had accused Dohyun earlier.