The village was alive with gratitude. Laughter echoed through the narrow streets, and children darted along the lanes, no longer afraid of the mountains that had once harbored the so-called demon tigers.
The forest beyond the village lay silent, the human-eating predators finally gone. For the first time in a long while, the people of Guryang-hyeon dared to move freely after dark, lanterns glowing where fear had once ruled.
From the gathered crowd, Village Elder Yun stepped forward. His back was slightly bent with age, his beard silvered by time, but his eyes were sharp, eyes that had seen the village endure famine, war, and loss. He rested both hands on his wooden staff and looked at Bella with quiet reverence.
"Long have we prayed for deliverance," he said, his voice steady but weighted with emotion. "Never did I think it would come in the form of a foreigner, one so young… and so brave."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the villagers.
The two village travelers then stepped forward from the crowd, faces flushed with relief.
"Miss… Ha-neul," one began, bowing low. "You saved our lives. If it weren't for you…" His voice faltered, thick with emotion.
"You don't need to thank me," she replied, reaching out to help them up. "I only did what anyone would have done if they had the strength."
They introduced themselves as Gang-Min and Min-Su.
The other man added, "We are brothers of the same trade, best friends. You have given us more than life. You have given us hope, safety… and courage."
Bella, still bloodied and exhausted, smiled faintly. Her hands flexed at her sides, muscles aching from the fight. "You both survived," she said softly. "That is enough for me."
Elder Yun watched her closely then, his grip tightening around his staff. "A person who risks her life for strangers," he said quietly, "is no ordinary soul." His gaze lifted to the mountains beyond the village. "Guryang-hyeon will remember this night, and you my dear, your name…for as long as these hills stand."
Turning slightly, he called to a young villager nearby. "Send word for Madam Gyeong. Tell her the healer of Guryang-hyeon is needed, at once."
Then his gaze returned to Bella, lingering on the blood soaking her sleeve. "You have shed enough blood for our village, child. Let it be tended."
Gang-Min wiped his face and laughed, still unsteady with emotion. "Yes-yes! Please, both of you. Come to our home. Let us thank you properly. Meet our families. Let us tend to your wounds."
Min-Su nodded eagerly. "You've done more for us than any of us could imagine."
Their humility and sincerity carried weight in every gesture.
Bella hesitated only a moment before nodding, allowing herself to accept their gratitude. Her chest rose and fell, pride mingling with fatigue.
From a distance, Elder Yun watched her and the prince once more. He saw how Ji-ho did not object, how his concern for her overrode caution. The elder exhaled slowly.
The heart moves faster than fate, he thought. And it does not ask permission.
Few minutes later, when the healer arrived.
The room smelled of crushed herbs and warm water.
Madam Gyeong worked in silence at first, her hands steady despite Bella's wince as the cloth pressed against torn skin. The healer's fingers were firm but careful, practiced from years of tending wounds earned through labor, war, and foolish bravery.
Madam Gyeong's fingers moved lower, pressing gently along Bella's side. Bella sucked in a sharp breath before she could stop herself.
"There," the healer said calmly. "That pain does not come from the tiger."
Bella frowned. "Then what-"
"I presume a fall?" Madam Gyeong replied. "You struck the rocks before the water caught you." She pressed once more, carefully, watching Bella's face. "Your ribs are fractured. Not broken clean through, but cracked enough to remind you of your foolishness every time you breathe too deeply."
"And this? You were fortunate," Madam Gyeong said at last, her voice low. "Very fortunate."
Bella glanced down at her arm, where dark bruising bloomed beneath the shallow cuts. "Fortunate doesn't feel like the right word," she muttered.
Madam Gyeong huffed softly, not unkind. She dipped her fingers into a bowl of thick, green salve and began to spread it along the wound. The coolness stung.
"If the tiger's claw had reached here…" she tapped a point just beneath Bella's shoulder, close to the joint "…it would have snapped the nerve. Your arm would never have moved the same again."
Bella stilled.
"And if it had struck a finger's width deeper," Madam Gyeong continued, unfazed, "you would not be sitting here listening to me scold you. The bleeding alone would have ended you before dawn."
The words settled heavy in the air.
Madam Gyeong wrapped the wound carefully, her motions deliberate, almost reverent. "The body is resilient, but it does not forgive recklessness twice."
Bella swallowed. "I didn't think," she admitted quietly.
"No," the healer agreed, tying off the cloth. "You acted."
She finally looked Bella in the eyes then, gaze sharp but not cruel. "That is admirable. But do not mistake bravery for invincibility."
Bella let out a slow breath.
"You're still human, just because you have a different skin tone doesn't make you less. You're no god, you're flesh and blood. You must be careful," Madam Gyeong said, softer now. "The next time you suffer such an injury, the heavens may not be so merciful. And I may not be able to pull you back.No one might."
Bella nodded, the weight of the warning sinking deep. "I understand."
Madam Gyeong reached for another bundle of herbs, her tone returning to its calm steadiness. "Good. Then heal properly. One week least. Rest. And do not invite death to test you again so soon."
Outside the room, the village murmured on, unaware of how narrowly fate had passed Bella by.
After Madam Gyeong finished binding her ribs and sent her away with strict warnings and bitter medicine, Bella slipped quietly out into the night.
She found Ji-ho seated at the edge of the village, apart from the others, knees drawn up, gaze lifted toward the stars. He didn't notice her at first. He looked… small somehow. Stripped of rank. Of armor. Just a man alone beneath a sky too wide for his thoughts.
Bella lowered herself beside him carefully, wincing despite her best efforts.
They sat in silence.
No greetings. No questions. Just the sound of cicadas and the soft crackle of distant hearth fires.
Ji-ho spoke first.
"I thought I was going to lose you."
His voice was quiet, but it trembled.
"I stood there," he continued, eyes never leaving the stars, "and watched the tiger strike. I watched you fall. And I could do nothing." His fingers curled into the dirt. "I have commanded men. I have ordered executions. Soldiers had died for my sake. Yet in that moment, I was… powerless."
Bella swallowed.
"I couldn't even look," he admitted. "Because I knew…if you were taken, I would have witnessed it and lived. And that frightened me more than death itself."
She turned to him then, her expression gentle despite the pain tightening her ribs.
"I'm here," she said softly. "I didn't go anywhere."
He laughed once, broken and breathless. "You don't understand. Princes are taught how to rule. How to endure loss. But no one teaches us how to bear fear." His voice dropped. "I was afraid of losing you… and afraid of how much that fear meant."
Bella reached out, hesitated, then rested her hand lightly on his sleeve.
"You weren't powerless," she said. "You stayed. You didn't turn away. Sometimes that's all a person can do."
He looked at her then, really looked at her, eyes dark and unguarded. "Stay," he said suddenly. "Just for a few days. Let us stay here."
She blinked. "Here?"
"Yes," he said quickly. "In this village. Away from duty, from court, from whispers, from blood." His voice softened. "I don't want to leave yet."
Bella huffed a small laugh, carefully leaning back. "Funny you should say that. Madam Gyeong already decided for us." She tapped her ribs lightly. "I can barely breathe properly, let alone travel. She said I need at least a week. To get my energy and be back on the road."
Relief crossed his face so openly it startled her.
"Then we stay," he said simply. "A week."
And so they did.
For one quiet week, they lived among the people of the village. Bella healed slowly. Ji-ho helped where he could, unnoticed and unannounced. They shared meals, stories, silences. Laughter returned to the village, and for a fleeting moment, time loosened its grip on them both.
The sun lingered low over the fields, washing the land in warm gold. Ji-ho walked among the villagers, not as a prince, but as a man newly awake to the world beneath his feet.
His sleeves were clumsily rolled, unused to such work, his hands still soft, unmarked by callus or command. Yet he did not mind. Not once.
He bent, brushing his fingers through the soil with open curiosity, feeling its cool grit cling to his skin. Earthworms writhed between the furrows, alive and unafraid, and he laughed softly at the sight, an unguarded sound he had never known he could make.
No servant hovered at his side. No voice instructed him where to stand, what to touch, when to stop. The ground welcomed him without bow or title.
For the first time in his life, he felt useful in a way no court lesson had ever taught him.
Behind him, unseen, Elder Yun watched quietly, his aged eyes sharp, thoughtful, observing not a crown prince in borrowed clothes, but a young man discovering a life he had never been allowed to live.
"Walk with me," the old man said at last.
Ji-ho wiped his hands and followed without question.
They stopped at the edge of the fields, where the village thinned and the land dipped gently toward the forest. For a moment, Elder Yun said nothing. He leaned on his staff, eyes fixed on the horizon, as though measuring time itself.
"You carry yourself like a man with a burden," the elder said quietly. "Not the kind that shows on the back, but the kind that hollows the chest."
Ji-ho lowered his gaze. "I don't know what you mean."
Elder Yun gave a faint, sad smile. "You think age dulls sight. It sharpens it." He turned then, studying Ji-ho closely. "You are in love."
The words struck harder than any accusation.
Ji-ho stiffened. "That is not-"
"Necessary to deny," Elder Yun finished gently. "I have seen the way you look at her. I have seen how your spirit leans toward hers, even when your body steps back." His voice softened. "Love like that does not ask permission."
Ji-ho's jaw tightened. "It should," he said. "Because there are duties that…"
"…will demand everything from you," Elder Yun said. "Yes. I know."
The old man exhaled slowly, as if releasing a breath he had held for decades.
"When I was young," he began, "I fell in love with a nobleman's daughter."
Ji-ho looked up, startled.
"She was clever," Elder Yun continued, eyes distant now. "Braver than she knew. She laughed like the world had never wounded her." A pause. "Her family forbade it. I was nothing but a villager. She was promised to a life I could never give her."
"What did you do?" Ji-ho asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Elder Yun's mouth trembled. "We ran."
Ji-ho's breath caught.
"We fled at night," the elder said. "Left everything behind. For a while, it was enough. Love fed us. Hope sheltered us." His grip tightened around his staff. "We had a son."
Hope flickered in Ji-ho's chest, then died as Elder Yun's eyes darkened.
"But fate," the old man said quietly, "is patient."
He swallowed.
"She fell ill. There was no healer who could save her. No prayer that reached the heavens in time." His voice cracked, just once. "I buried her with my own hands."
Silence swallowed them.
"I raised our son alone," Elder Yun went on. "Loved him. Lost him too, in time, though not to death. To life." He finally looked at Ji-ho again. "Love gives, and fate takes. Not because it is cruel, but because it is complete."
Ji-ho's chest ached. "Then… do you regret it?"
Elder Yun considered the question for a long time.
"No," he said at last. "But regret is not the same as peace."
Ji-ho clenched his fists. "If loving her means destroying everything else, my duty, my future, what am I supposed to do?"
Elder Yun stepped closer, voice low and firm.
"You must choose with open eyes," he said. "Not as a boy chasing feeling, but as a man who understands consequence." He tapped Ji-ho's chest lightly. "Duty will shape your life. Love will shape your soul. Fate will not wait for you to be ready."
Ji-ho's voice broke. "And if I lose her?"
"Then you will grieve," Elder Yun said softly. "And you will live."
"And if I choose her?"
"Then you will carry that choice forever," the elder replied. "With joy. With pain. With no one else to blame."
The sun dipped lower, shadows stretching long across the fields.
Elder Yun turned away. "Whatever you decide," he said over his shoulder, "do not lie to yourself. Love deserves honesty. Duty demands it."
Ji-ho watched him walk back toward the village, heart heavy, torn between the man he was meant to be and the one he already was.
After Elder Yun's words had settled heavy in his chest, Ji-ho returned to the village with a quiet heart.
That was when he saw her.
Bella sat among the children near the old persimmon tree, her laughter bright and unguarded as they tugged at her sleeves and braided wildflowers into her hair. She let them climb into her lap, listened to their endless stories as though each one mattered. There was no fear in her eyes here, no tension, no urgency,only warmth.
Ji-ho stopped walking.
For days now, he had watched her like this.
He watched the way she knelt to meet a child's gaze, how she laughed with her whole body, how easily the villagers accepted her as one of their own. He listened when she spoke of her world in half-finished sentences, learned her silences as carefully as her smiles.
Every moment felt borrowed.
Beautiful. Fragile.
And with each passing day, the certainty grew heavier…that once he left this village, he would lose it all.
This life.
This freedom.
Her.
The path beyond Guryang-hyeon waited like a blade hidden beneath silk. Duty would reclaim him. Titles would return. Walls would rise again.
Bella looked up then, catching his gaze. She smiled and waved him over, as if nothing in the world stood between them.
Ji-ho smiled back.
But his heart tightened, already mourning what had not yet been taken, knowing that the moment he stepped beyond this village, fate would begin asking for its price.
The next day, they would leave.
And nothing would ever be simple again.
On the morning they chose to leave, the village stirred early.
Hands reached for their packs before Bella or Ji-ho could protest. Rice cakes were wrapped carefully in cloth, dried meat tied with twine, bundles of herbs pressed into Bella's arms with murmured blessings. It felt less like a farewell and more like a family seeing their own off to war.
Gang‑min stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Let one of us escort you through the mountain pass," he offered. "At least as far as the river road."
Bella started to refuse, but Elder Yun lifted a hand gently, silencing her.
"It is safer not to travel alone," he said. "Let kindness walk beside you a little longer."
Before Ji-ho could respond, the elder stepped closer, and then, to Ji-ho's surprise, wrapped him in a firm, unexpected embrace.
"Jin-yu," Elder Yun said softly, using the name he knew him by, "heed the words I gave you. Life will force you to choose, sooner than you wish. When that moment comes… choose wisely."
Ji-ho bowed deeply, throat tight. He did not trust himself to speak.
Bella watched the exchange, something unreadable stirring in her chest.
As they turned to leave, Ji-ho lingered a step behind her.
"There is something I should tell you," he said quietly.
She glanced back, already wary. "If this is another thank-you speech, spare me. I've had enough of goodbyes for one morning."
A faint smile touched his lips, but his eyes were serious. "It isn't gratitude."
Her heart skipped. "Ji-ho-"
"I won't say it yet," he added, voice steady. "But I've made up my mind."
She laughed it off, light and nervous. "That sounds dangerous."
"It is," he replied.
The first day of travel passed in near silence.
The forest lay calm, sun filtering through leaves as though the world itself had forgotten the terror that once lived there. The tiger attacks already felt like a distant nightmare.
Yet Ji-ho walked as if burdened by something unseen.
Bella noticed.
"Why are you so quiet?" she asked at last, slowing her steps. "You haven't said a word since after your surprise speech."
He stopped.
Then, quietly but firmly, he asked, "Why do you keep pushing me away?"
Her breath caught. She looked down and said in a low tone so the other man couldn't hear, "Because you are the crown prince. And we…"
"No." He stepped closer, leaving no space for retreat. "I don't want to avoid this anymore. I like you. More than I should. And I won't pretend otherwise."
She exhaled, half-laughing, half-panicked. "It's impossible."
His lips curved, soft, reckless. "I've told you this a thousand times and you repeat the same words a thousand time. Laws are meant to be broken, aren't they?"
Her eyes widened. "Where did you learn that?"
"From you," he said simply. "You said it first."
Bella shook her head, laughter spilling out despite herself. "Oh no… no you sound like a rebel."
He smiled back, gentle, dangerous, and utterly sincere.
And for the first time, Bella wondered if fate had already chosen for them both.
As they continued their Journey.