The city blazed with color as midnight neared. Lanterns rose into the night sky like glowing stars. Ruyeon led Dik through the quiet backstreets to a hill overlooking the river, where hundreds of lanterns drifted upward. The sight stole Dik's breath.
"Whoa," he whispered. "It's beautiful. I always wanted to see this…" He turned to Ruyeon with a teasing smile. "You know, I guess you like me, don't you?"
Ruyeon froze, caught completely off guard. "What? I don't—don't say nonsense. I don't like you. And don't assume everyone does."
Dik laughed softly. "I'm not assuming. It's just true. Everyone likes me—especially my big brother. You know he's never scolded me once? Even though we have different mothers, and Father treats me better than him, he still adores me." He looked away, voice trembling slightly. "And you… you don't like me? Or is it because of my scar?"
Ruyeon's expression softened. His voice was low. "No. Never."
Dik laughed again, though his eyes glistened. "I'm just kidding. Why are you getting so serious?" He forced a smile and picked up the lantern in his hands. "Come on, let's fly it and leave quickly."
They lit the lantern together. The warm glow illuminated their faces—Ruyeon's calm and guarded, Dik's bright but trembling. As the lantern lifted into the air, the two stood silently, watching it float toward the stars.
Dik felt something tighten in his chest. It wasn't fear—it was something gentler, deeper. The way Ruyeon's hand brushed against his made his heart skip. When he looked up, their eyes met, and for a brief moment, everything else—the danger, the noise, the world—disappeared.
Without a word, Ruyeon stepped forward and pulled Dik into his arms. His embrace was firm, protective, and unexpectedly warm.
"Don't worry," Ruyeon whispered against his hair. "I'll always protect you."
Dik's breath hitched. Slowly, he hugged him back. "Okay… please protect me."
The lantern drifted higher above them, joining the thousands already floating across the sky. Fireworks burst in the distance, reflecting in Dik's tear-bright eyes.
Ruyeon pulled away first, his face shadowed with determination. "We need to go. The first explosion could happen anytime."
He led Dik through a narrow gate outside the city walls, where the forest stretched into darkness. The air was quiet here—the festival sounds distant, muffled by the wind.
They stopped near an old shrine on a hill overlooking the glowing city. Ruyeon turned to him. "Stay here. No matter what happens, don't come back until I return. Understand?"
Dik looked down, clutching the edge of his cloak. "And if you don't come back?"
Ruyeon's eyes softened. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from Dik's forehead. "Then you'll still see the lanterns. Every year, they'll rise again. Remember this night and live."
He turned to leave, but Dik grabbed his wrist. "Ruyeon… please come back."
For a heartbeat, neither spoke. Then Ruyeon smiled faintly—a rare, fragile smile. "I will. I promised to protect you, didn't I?"
And with that, he disappeared into the night, the glow of the city flickering like fire behind him.
Dik watched him go, the cold wind biting his skin. The sky blazed with lanterns and fire, but in his chest, something ached like an unanswered prayer.
He pressed a hand over his heart and whispered to the glowing horizon, "Please… protect them all."
As the first distant explosion shook the city walls, the lantern he had released rose higher and higher—its light trembling, but unbroken.
The Fall of the Palace
At the royal palace, midnight bells began to toll. Fireworks lit the sky above, masking the echo of marching feet. The festival outside was still alive with laughter, but inside the palace walls, death was already moving.
The general—his armor black as night—stormed through the golden corridors with a legion of soldiers. Their boots pounded against marble floors, their torches burning bright. Servants screamed and scattered. Arrows thudded into walls. The scent of smoke filled the air.
At the far end of the grand hall, the King stood on the dais, gripping his sword despite the tremor in his old hands. His once-majestic throne behind him glimmered beneath the firelight, now a mere relic in a crumbling empire.
The doors burst open. Second Prince Jian, the first son, strode in beside the general.
The King's eyes widened. "Jian… you're with him?"
Jian's face was unreadable. "I did what I had to, Father."
The general smirked, bowing mockingly. "Your Majesty, tonight your reign ends. The city will burn, the people will fall, and your name will fade into dust. But don't worry—your own blood has saved me the trouble of finding you."
The King ignored the general and looked only at his son. His voice was heavy, almost weary. "Did you make sure Dik is safe?"
For a fleeting second, Jian hesitated. Then he said quietly, "Yes. He's safe."
But then his voice hardened, his face twisted with bitterness. "But tell me, Father… why did you only ask about him?"
The king frowned, confused. Jian took a step closer, his eyes dark and wild. "Oh yes, I know why," he hissed. "Because I was born from a concubine. Because my mother was not noble enough. Because you never once looked at me as your son. I am your firstborn, yet you gave the title of Crown Prince to Dik. You gave him everything. His smile, his charm—those were enough for you. But what about me?"
"Jian…" the king whispered, regret flickering in his gaze. "You were always—"
"Don't!" Jian roared, the blade slicing through the air. "Don't say I was always loved! Don't lie now, not when you've already decided my fate!"
The king opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Jian's sword pierced his heart.
Blood dripped from the blade, warm against Jian's shaking hands. The king's eyes widened in shock, then dimmed, his crown slipping from his head as he fell.
At that moment, the grand doors burst open. "Brother, stop!"
Jian froze. He turned slowly. Standing in the doorway, breathing heavily, was Prince Dik, his face pale with disbelief.
"Dik?" Jian's voice cracked. "How did you come here? You were with Sen Ruyeon—weren't you?" His tone darkened. "That useless brat."
Dik took a step forward, fury in his eyes. "I knew you were up to something! If you hated me this much—if you planned to kill Father—then why keep me alive? Why not just kill me too?"
Jian's shoulders tensed. "Dik… you always listened to me. But this time—why couldn't you obey? I told you to run, to stay away from all this."
"Run?" Dik laughed bitterly, tears stinging his eyes. "You pathetic coward. You actually allied with the general? You don't deserve the throne."
Jian's gaze sharpened. "Do you think I won't kill you? You know nothing of what it means to be me. You've never stood in my place!"
Before Dik could answer, the sound of boots filled the hall. General Wu entered with his soldiers, grinning cruelly.
"Well done, Your Highness," the general sneered, stepping over the king's lifeless body. "The throne is now yours."
Then his eyes fell on Dik. His grin widened. "Ah, the Second Prince. I've heard stories—ugly, they said. But I see they were wrong. Soldiers, take him. My youngest son has been seeking a fine gift for his birthday. This one will do nicely."
Dik flinched as the soldiers moved toward him. But before they could touch him, Jian raised his sword and blocked their path.
"You cannot do that," Jian said coldly. "He is still my brother."
General Wu chuckled. "So the mighty First Prince still has a heart."
"I know how to keep my brother in line," Jian said firmly. "No one touches him but me."
The general studied him for a long moment, then bowed mockingly. "As you wish, Your Highness. Forgive my rudeness."
But before the moment could settle, another voice echoed through the hall—steady, sharp, commanding.
"Don't you dare touch him. He's mine."
Everyone turned.