Curled Pill Bug

Clutching his chest, Miye forced himself upright and staggered toward the windowsill.

No matter what, he had to see her. If it was true.... if she was truly gone, then he would at least give her a proper burial.

That much, he swore to himself.

As he rested his head against the windowsill, Hwa Miye stared at the bright moon, its silver light brushing his face.

Tonight, the moon seemed especially aloof: grand yet unreachable, brilliant yet framed by darkness, beautiful yet mysterious. Hwa Miye had always resonated with this moon. He had cried before it, spoken to it, even smiled, as though it were his only companion.

Yet tonight, the moonlight did not fall upon him. Instead, it fell on a figure not far from his window. Curled behind a bush, the small form glimmered in the moonlight, resembling a pill bug in a deep slumber.

"It's that boy from before," Miye murmured.

Rubbing his red, swollen eyes, he squinted to see clearly.

Indeed, it was him.

Why hadn't he left? Did he truly mean it when he said he would wait? Was the job so important that he would endure this merciless cold rather than abandon it?

Then, Miye remembered the words from the earlier quarrel:

"And yer mother? Just some lowly bitch who ruined yer father's life!"

Is that it? Was that reason enough for him to risk his life? What was he trying to prove? Was it to honor his mother? To defy the cruel words of a bully?

Miye's fists clenched. He believed the boy was wasting his youth. Why fight for someone who no longer exists? For parents who cannot understand the depths of your devotion?

If only they knew....the suffering we endure just to see their smiles…

Anger surged within him. He turned from the window and slammed it shut. Already steeped in grief and pain, the sight of the curled pill bug only deepened his despair.

....

It was supposed to be a bitterly cold night. Dohyun should have awoken with purple lips, a frozen throat, and icy feet, no matter how tightly he curled himself.

That was how it was supposed to be.

Yet, Dohyun awoke surprisingly refreshed. His hair tousled, a stray blade of grass caught within it, he rubbed his warm eyes. When he fully stirred, he noticed a soft white blanket draped over him.

What…

No wonder he hadn't frozen like he usually did. His lips still held a faint bluish hue, but far from frostbite. For an ordinary person, the cold would have been unbearable, biting like snowflakes on a mountain. For Dohyun, however, this was the warmest night he had ever endured outside.

But… who could have left it? Everyone he had met yesterday had been unwelcoming. No familiar face came to mind.

As he pondered, Dohyun stood and dusted off his clothes, attempting to present himself with composure. He fixed his tangled hair, adjusted his robe, and draped the warm, heavy blanket over his shoulders. He still had to convince the princess, after all.

Yet, when he took a step forward, he froze.

In the courtyard of the grand south palace of Hwachon, amid blooming white chrysanthemums, stood a distant figure. Short black hair, neatly tied with a headband, reflected brown hues in the sunlight. Her face radiated authority, yet was untouchable, mingled with fear, grief, and anger. Her gaze met his disheveled form, burning with rage. Dohyun could almost hear her teeth grit at the sight with a, "Tsk!"

She turned, striding toward the palace gates in silver armor over a maroon uniform, her lethal sword dangling at her hip. At the gates, a black stallion awaited. She fastened herself, the gates swung open, and she stormed out, "Ha!!"

Could it be her?

Dohyun scratched his head, utterly confused. He couldn't decipher her expression. If she hated him so, why would she leave him a blanket? The blanket fit him curled up, suggesting it belonged to someone shorter. Maybe Shin Haerin had thrown him a spare one? But she was almost the same height as him.

"Ahhh… I don't know!" he muttered in frustration.

Unnoticed, he had already wandered into the palace corridors. The palace inside stretched with quiet elegance. Polished stone floors gleamed under soft lantern light, and lacquered wooden pillars lined the corridors with a steady grace. White chrysanthemums were everywhere, arranged in delicate clusters on carved wooden stands, in ornate vases along the hallways, and placed near doorways and pillars. Their petals looked almost alive in the warm light, like they might sway with even the smallest breath of air.

The scent of the flowers filled the corridors, sweet and soft, mixing with the faint smell of polished wood and beeswax. In the corners, small burners sent thin wisps of sandalwood smoke curling through the air, adding a warm, grounding note. Together, the smells wrapped the palace in a calm, almost gentle embrace, though beneath it lingered a quiet tension, as if the halls themselves held secrets and watched with unseen eyes. Every step through the corridors carried the scent of blooms and authority alike, creating a space that was beautiful, serene, and quietly alive.

"Young Master looks frustrated," a calm voice spoke from behind.

Dohyun froze.