I, Ryu Seungho, have served the king since childhood. My parents, deeply indebted to His Majesty’s kindness, had no choice but to offer my service in return. Thus, my fate was sealed—I was to dedicate my life to the royal family.

After completing my studies, I was appointed as the royal scholar. A few years later, the prince was born, and with time, the king entrusted me with an even greater responsibility—shaping his son into a scholar worthy of his lineage. And so, my days have since been consumed by the tireless task of tutoring the young prince.

“Jinwon, this is the third time I’m telling you to focus on your book rather than that butterfly. You can look at them later,” I said, my patience wearing thin.

The prince, seated across from me in the grand royal library, barely spared me a glance. His chin rested on his palm as he watched a vibrant blue butterfly flit past the window, his textbook lying abandoned in front of him.

“Seonsaengnim, I’ve been here for an hour. Can’t I leave now?” he whined, dragging out the words like a child half his age.

I didn’t even bother looking up. “For the past hour, you haven’t written a single word. You may leave when you finish your work.” My voice was firm, my eyes returning to the stack of documents in front of me.

Jinwon groaned dramatically and slumped onto the desk, muttering something about how unfair life was. Then, after a moment of silence, I heard the rustling of paper—not from his book, but from his sleeves.

My gaze flicked up, only to catch him attempting to fold a sheet of parchment into some kind of butterfly.

I sighed. “If you spent half as much effort studying as you do avoiding your studies, you’d be the wisest prince in the history of this kingdom.”

Jinwon smirked, undeterred. “But then I’d be boring. And I know you’d miss scolding me.”

I scoffed. “Miss scolding you? I’d finally know peace.”

He laughed at that, but then his mischief escalated. Without warning, he blew on his paper butterfly, sending it soaring across the table—straight toward my face. I caught it effortlessly, crumpling it in one hand before tossing it back at him.

“Finish your work,” I ordered.

Jinwon groaned again, but this time, he actually picked up his brush. “You’re no fun, seonsaengnim.”

I smirked. “That’s precisely why your father trusts me.”

The prince muttered something under his breath but finally turned his attention to his studies. At least for now.

Jinwon dipped his brush into the ink with a dramatic sigh, twirling it between his fingers as if he were about to paint a masterpiece rather than practice his writing. His lips pursed in deep "concentration"—or so he wanted me to believe.

I eyed him skeptically. "If you break another brush, I swear I'll make you carve your own replacement."

Jinwon grinned, clearly unfazed by my threat. "Seonsaengnim, do you ever smile? I’m starting to believe you were born frowning."

I arched an eyebrow. "Do you ever study? I’m starting to believe you were born to test my patience."

He let out a snicker but, miraculously, started writing. I allowed myself a small moment of relief—until I noticed his brush strokes.

"What exactly is that supposed to be?" I leaned over to inspect his work.

Jinwon grinned proudly, holding up the parchment. "It’s a poem about butterflies!"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "It was supposed to be your history assignment."

"Yes, but history is so dull," he drawled. "And poetry is a form of literature, which is still education. So technically, I’m not disobeying you."

I snatched the parchment from his hands and skimmed through it. Half of it wasn't even legible, and I was fairly certain one line was just him describing how much he wanted to nap.

"You have two options," I said, setting the parchment aside. "Rewrite this properly—about history this time—or spend another hour here with me."

Jinwon gasped, clutching his chest as if I’d just sentenced him to exile. "Another hour?! Are you trying to kill me?"

I gave him a pointed look. "You’re the prince of this nation, not a prisoner. I assure you, you will survive an extra hour of study."

He groaned, dramatically slumping over his desk again. "You have no heart, seonsaengnim."

"Correct. I sold it in exchange for patience," I replied dryly, gesturing at his blank parchment. "Now, if you don’t start writing in the next five seconds, I will personally inform the king that his son finds history ‘dull.’"

Jinwon shot upright so fast his chair nearly toppled over. "You wouldn’t dare!"

I met his horrified gaze with an unyielding stare. "Try me."

Muttering something about cruel teachers, he finally picked up his brush and got to work—though I didn’t miss the small smirk tugging at his lips.

And despite myself, I almost—almost—smiled too.

For a while, there was peace. Well, relative peace. The sound of Jinwon’s brush scratching against parchment filled the library, and I allowed myself to return to my documents, savoring the rare moment of cooperation.

But, of course, it was short-lived.

"Seonsaengnim," Jinwon suddenly piped up, his voice suspiciously sweet.

I didn’t look up. "No."

He blinked. "You don’t even know what I was going to ask!"

"I do, and the answer is still no."

Jinwon huffed. "Fine. Then let me rephrase it—if I finish this before sundown, can I leave early tomorrow?"

I glanced at the sun filtering through the windows. It was already late afternoon. "If you finish that properly before sundown, I will allow you to leave exactly one minute early tomorrow."

He gasped, as if I had just offered him the crown itself. "One whole minute? Oh, seonsaengnim, you spoil me too much."

I smirked. "I know. I'm far too kind."

Jinwon dramatically wiped an imaginary tear from his eye before setting back to work, scribbling furiously as if he had just been granted the greatest bargain in history.

For once, I let him be. At least he was actually writing.

Just as I was about to return to my own work, I heard him mumble under his breath.

"One minute early… That’s just enough time to run before you drag me back in."

I bit back a chuckle. "Try it and see what happens, Your Highness."

He froze, then slowly turned to look at me, eyes wide with mock innocence. "You have terrifying hearing, seonsaengnim."

"And you have a terrible sense of stealth," I countered smoothly.

Jinwon groaned, dropping his head dramatically onto his desk. "You're impossible!"

"And yet, here I am, still your teacher."

With a loud sigh, he picked up his brush again. "One minute of freedom… I will treasure it forever."

I shook my head, hiding a small, amused smile behind my sleeve. If nothing else, at least teaching Jinwon was never boring.

Author's Note: A casual way for students to address their teacher in ancient Korea is "seonsaengnim" (선생님), which is a more informal version of "seonsaeng". This term conveys a sense of respect and deference.