◆◆
His breathing drew closer, until a rich, low voice brushed my ear.
"You know, there's nothing more foolish than someone who doesn't know their place."
He seized the ribbon ties fastened at my chest and yanked them toward himself. The bow lost its shape and came undone, and the recoil sent my body crashing into his chest.
"From this moment on, I'll make the difference between you and me very clear," he said. "So you never dare act insolent in front of me again."
His shoulders were straight, his gaze lowered—yet the moment you faced him, you couldn't stop the instinctive sensation of your nape tightening, as if an unseen hand were choking you.
"There's one rule people learn first when they enter the palace," he went on.
He gripped my shoulders, turned me halfway, and stepped behind me.
"Everything you see and hear in the palace—keep your mouth shut."
It felt like a massive wall stood at my back. The pressure was beyond words. I clenched my fists, forcing myself not to show fear.
His hand slid slowly from my jawline down my neck. Past my collarbone, his fingers found the zipper at the back of my dress. Guided by Chae-ha's fingertips, the zipper glided down smoothly. When it reached my waist, the dress gave up its hold and fell lifelessly to the floor.
I was ashamed—humiliated—at the sight of my thin body in plain, worn underwear. And the more shame rose in me, the more I forced myself not to look away. If I showed fear, I'd be devoured. If I cried, there would be no mercy. At least, that's how the world I'd lived in worked. Compared to that, this is nothing. I told myself that, over and over.
"I can't leave the palace," I said. "The moment I entered, I decided that's how it would be."
As if my resolve were almost too calm, his brow tightened slightly. Then he spun away—like he didn't want me to see his expression, like he couldn't bear to let anything slip.
"What a shame," he said. "Because I don't want to see you in the palace. You'd better brace yourself from now on."
And with that, he left the office.
I slowly picked up the fallen dress and pulled it back on, tying the half-torn strings into something resembling a bow again. My hands shook like leaves.
◆
Even knowing perfection was impossible with work that poured in without end, I woke early and sat in my study. After sitting for about an hour, I stretched.
"There's no end to it," I muttered.
I rose from the chair to catch my breath. As always, I went to the window, cracked the door slightly, and let the air in.
Carried on the languid spring breeze, a woman came into view. From the early morning she ran back and forth, even spinning around like someone mad. It was as if she'd convinced herself she was a butterfly, playing in the flowerbeds.
Knock, knock.
Right then, the senior aide to the Crown Prince entered. Even though his official start time was nine, he always began a little early to match me—since I started work early. It wasn't that I felt guilty. We'd worked in sync for years, and he was compensated with incentives satisfying enough to make it worth it. Business only worked when give-and-take was clear.
He placed a document with today's schedule on my desk. He looked ready to answer questions about it—but instead, I pointed out the window.
"Do you know who that woman outside is?"
He looked briefly thrown, then approached the window, nudged his glasses up, and replied.
"She appears to be one of those entering the palace today."
"Ah. So it's today," I said.
"Yes. Around twenty people are expected to attend."
"Judging by how she's dressed, she doesn't look like someone who passed an exam to get in."
In a light, fluttering dress, she flitted around the flowers like a butterfly—one that seemed close enough to catch, yet never could be. For some reason, it irritated me. It got under my skin.
The aide pushed his glasses up again, out of habit.
"Ah. Then it must be her."
He seemed to know about the woman—her background, her unusual profile.
"I heard she's from a hillside shantytown. No parents, either. Her name is Sun—"
"That's enough," I cut him off. "I'm not curious enough to hear her name."
"Yes. Other than that, nothing noteworthy."
"Is it really wise to bring in a girl whose identity can't even be guaranteed?"
"If it troubles you, I can look into it further."
"No," I said. "What more is there to learn from someone so useless she can't even serve as thin porridge?"
The aide held his tongue and quietly withdrew from the study.
…When I faced that butterfly up close in my study, a fear I couldn't name surged through me. Those clear, deep black eyes felt like they were seeing straight through everything I was. My nerves went taut.
It was a girl I never wanted to see again. How was she in my study—how had she slipped in like a rat and even listened in on my call with the Commander of the Royal Guard?
"It's you," I said. "You again."
She kept insisting she was innocent, as if wronged. How many spies do you think we've caught in this palace? Plenty of them swore they weren't, tears trembling in their eyes—only to fall to their knees later, begging for their lives.
Still. She'd heard the call. What to do with that? A sharp ache throbbed behind my temples.
"Nothing changes just because you found out," I said. "You don't get a choice. Keep your mouth shut and do your cleaning like a good girl. Or get thrown out of the palace."
"..."
"And if you run your mouth outside, your already insignificant life might end up even shorter."
The sharper my words became, the calmer she seemed. She didn't avert her eyes—she met mine head-on. And once again I found myself facing those pitch-black eyes, except this time a different feeling rose in me.
On dark nights, the moon is always up there. People don't really study it. Then there are days—no one knows why—when you end up staring at it closely. The feeling of meeting a pale moon hanging in a black sky: unfamiliar, yet not unfamiliar. A moon floating alone in silence can be terrifyingly beautiful—and frightening, too.
"I'm not interested," she said. "And I don't want to get tangled up in Your Highness's affairs."
She should have been on her knees begging. And she was still insisting she'd been wronged. As if she had any power here at all.
"Even if you say you're not interested," I asked, "how am I supposed to believe you?"
"I'll prove it," she said.
"With what?"
"Watch me," she answered. "From now on."
I nearly laughed. She went on, saying things that were almost comical, and I found myself wanting to tease her—wanting to shake her composure. But the girl stayed insolent to the end. I could see her fingertips trembling slightly, yet she didn't cry, didn't panic, didn't rage.
Why is someone like you pretending to be lofty, hiding your feelings?
Instead, I was the one who wavered. I kept my emotions concealed, afraid they might show—yet looking at those eyes, it felt as though I'd already been exposed. In an instant, all the air went out of me. Not that I'd truly intended to do anything from the start. Putting on a show in front of someone who wouldn't flinch at me anyway—what was the point? My mistake.
◆◆
"Oh my—where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you!"
A girl spotted me and came running, skirts fluttering. Reddish-brown hair, a cute face dusted with freckles. She looked about my age, yet somehow acted like she outranked me.
"Pardon?"
"Aren't you the one who came in today? There's only one, so there's no way I could get you mixed up."
Only then did she notice the temporary name tag hanging at my neck and blurted out, "Sunmi! See, I knew it," speaking in casual, familiar speech without a second thought.
My habits from the hillside shantytown surfaced. The easier someone approached, the more I guarded myself. My face naturally hardened.
"Who are you?"
"I'm Jeong Najeong. Your coworker—and, um… think of me as your senior. Come on, we'll talk as we go. You hid so well we ran out of time."
She grabbed my hand and dragged me off. Soon I was back in the lobby where the King's statue stood. There had been a hidden space I hadn't noticed during the explanation, and she led me into it. As we went down the corridor, I saw women in black dresses with white aprons and headbands moving quickly, busy at work.
Jeong Najeong opened one of many doors and pushed me inside. It was a dorm-like room, enough for about three people.
"By the way," she said. "Didn't you say you lived in a shantytown?"
"Yes."
"And you came wearing a dress, like you've got something to prove?"
Her tone grated, but I didn't respond emotionally.
"It's my favorite thing I own," I said. "I threw everything else away before I came. Not that I had much."
"Oh. Is that so?" She sounded almost sympathetic—then sighed. "Well, that's a problem. Here, you have to throw away whatever you came wearing."
"No one told me that."
"You don't know the 'Iipseongdo' café? The community for people who made it in—'those who entered the palace'?"
"Anyone who came in through the exam knows to wear their cheapest clothes on entry day. What are we going to do with you?"
Without a phone, without a plan, without even service—I couldn't have known a café like that existed.
She looked at me with pity.
"This dress was a gift from someone… an ajusshi."
"An ajusshi?"
"Yes. There was a man who supported me. I… I think he might be the reason I got in here."
"So you're a parachute hire? Do you have ties to the royal family or something?"
"That… I don't know," I admitted. "I don't even know his name. Anything about him."
"What? That's totally a 'Tall Man' situation," she said, half-laughing.
Before I knew it, the conversation had gone long. Then—knock, knock—someone rapped on the door.
"Unni! Are you still not done? They said the uniform inspection's about to start."
"Ah—coming."
She shoved a box into my arms.
"Here. Everything you need is in this. Make sure you dispose of what you wore in. They're doing a uniform inspection—change within five minutes and come out to the entrance."
"I've never worn this kind of outfit before," I said.
Before I could say more, the door slammed shut.
In the end, I got chewed out because I couldn't properly wear the maid uniform I was putting on for the first time.
"What kind of idiot comes in unable to put on clothes properly? You think you can even do your job like this?"
I glanced at the name tag pinned to the maid who was scolding me. Kim Sera. Judging by how everyone froze at her words, she must have been something like the head maid.
Our eyes met. I tried to look away, but it was too late. She frowned deeper and barked in a sharp voice.
"Change again!"
I told myself adapting was survival, so I accepted even the absurd nitpicking without protest.
"Yes."
As I turned to change, she seized my shoulder roughly.
"What are you doing? Didn't you hear me?"
"You told me to change, so—"
"Oh my, look at this one. You have to change here."
There was a faint glint in her eyes—something like madness. She was clearly doing this to humiliate me.
"So I can make sure you're wearing it properly," she said.
The other maids, lined up in a neat row, looked like they were holding back laughter. They were all in on it. Jeong Najeong stood among them too—when our eyes met, she twitched her mouth as if awkwardly apologetic. A few male attendants passed by, stealing sidelong glances.
"What are you waiting for?"
Arms crossed, Sera stared me down with a smug expression. Slap her, a part of me thought—then the thought died. Because of him. Because of the ajusshi.
He would want me to adjust well.
Something fierce rose in my chest. They wanted to drive me out, but I would survive here.
As I started untying the apron strings, Sera's expression softened into a sly smile. The apron slid to the floor. It was humiliating, but did I even have the luxury to be proud? I fought myself, hesitating—then began unbuttoning my shirt, one button at a time.
"Since when did this place turn into a strip show?"
At that single sentence, the maids scattered and bowed. I turned my head too.
"Ah… you're here early," Sera said, flustered, her face flushing red.
"And why is she like this?"
In that brief instant, I felt it—his gaze slipping through the parted shirt to the skin beneath. I hurriedly covered myself.
"She's new," Sera said. "I was giving her a bit of uniform instruction."
"Even so," the man replied, "in a public place? That's a little much. How embarrassed she must be."
He set a hand lightly on my shoulder. As he stepped closer, his beautiful face came clearly into view. He wore a warm smile, and I couldn't look away.
Who is he?
He removed his jacket and draped it over my shoulders. The fabric was soft and comforting against my skin, not irritating at all. A sweet, creamy vanilla scent rose from it—so cozy it made me want to fall asleep wrapped in it.
"A woman shouldn't bare her skin just anywhere," he said. "Understood?"
The light-brown eyes looking at me felt impossibly mysterious.
"I'm sorry," I said.
At my answer, he gave a quiet, amused laugh. Then, as he turned and climbed the stairs, he called to Sera.
"Could I see you for a moment?"
"Yes, Chaeha-nim."
Sera hurried after him.
Only after the two of them disappeared did the people around finally seem to breathe again.
"I didn't expect Chaeha-nim to just show up like that."
"Seriously. But thanks to him, my eyes got a feast."
Amid their joking, one thought surfaced in my mind.
That man is Go Chaeha?
I'd only seen him once—on the news.
The anchor's calm voice had filled the screen.
"A new figure connected to the royal family has been identified. During a recent review of royal records, it was revealed that there was an illegitimate child of a man believed to be the late King's eldest son—meaning the current King's older brother."
The palace stated that the person had no connection to the line of succession, and it seemed like a rumor that would vanish in a few days. But the public boiled. Why did the royal family hide it? Blood is blood. Who gets to decide he has no rights?
Then, a few days later, a brief statement was released under the name of the royal spokesperson.
"For personal protection and fact-checking purposes, the individual will remain in the palace."
And now I was seeing the man who'd been quietly forgotten.