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Chaeha worked intently over the canvas, sketching me. Even the awkward, embarrassing nakedness of my body began to feel… familiar. The wine we'd been sipping one glass at a time was already nearly down to a full bottle.
I think I'm drunk. Each time he smiled and told me, "You're beautiful," I even started to believe I was some sculpture displayed in the Louvre.
"Shall we take a short break?"
He came closer and draped a blanket over me. My whole body was already warm with alcohol, so the blanket felt strangely cumbersome. Then his lukewarm breath slid into my ear.
"Your cheeks are red. Like you put on blush."
"Ah… are they?"
"You look hot."
He gently pulled the blanket down.
Maybe I'd wanted to touch him ever since the moment he took off his jacket for me. That tiny, nearly invisible feeling burst like fireworks the instant my lips met his.
His hands, winding around me without pause, were even smoother and more delicate than the silk jacket he'd lent me. My whole body melted, as if there could never be a sweeter kiss than this. He didn't rush—he explored me slowly. There was ease in every movement, and that only made me ache more.
"Your skin is so fine," he murmured. "Soft."
His long fingers would retreat as if taking one step back—only to return with a sharper, more intense touch. The fingers that had pressed piano keys now moved with exquisite care inside me.
"Ah…"
"Just wait a little," he whispered. "I want to make you happier."
He looked like Eros—how could someone wear such a pure, beautiful face and still make a person burn, make them writhe?
My toes spread, my excitement so obvious I didn't know what to do with myself.
"Please… just… put it in."
"Ha…" Chaeha exhaled, a rough laugh caught in his throat. "If you say it like that, Sunmi… how could I refuse?"
He stripped off the shirt and tie—anything that felt like an unnecessary barrier—and faced me bare, the same as me. Then he laid me down and climbed over me.
"How do I look from down there?" he asked, unfastening his belt.
Blinding blond hair, eyes so moist and beautiful they looked like they might spill tears at any moment. I couldn't tell what answer he wanted. He was beautiful enough that there was no way he didn't already know.
"I want to kiss you."
At my words, a faint, knowing smile passed over his lips—then he pulled me in as if he meant to devour me.
His skin was so soft you could've mistaken him for a woman. And the unexpected firmness of his muscles was more than enough to draw out another wave of excitement each time he pressed down on me.
Whether he knew what he was doing to me or not, he even had the leisure to brush my tangled hair back kindly, as if he found it beautiful.
I couldn't hold back anymore. More than tenderness, I wanted that—the thing underneath it.
"Hurry."
At that single word, he entered me deeply, as though he'd been waiting. I gasped, my hips lifting on their own. While our bodies were joined, everything bad that had happened in the palace had long since turned into grains of sand and blown away.
Whenever his relentless movements had me slipping toward the edge of the sofa, he would wrap an arm around me and kiss me, holding me in place.
The heat was no longer ours alone. It spread through the room, turning everything hot. Fresh, sweet floral notes. The bitter edge of wine. And the faint, sweet vanilla scent rising from his body—everything blurred my senses until I felt I wouldn't even notice if this place were hell.
"Ha… haah…"
Even Chaeha's short, broken moans sounded like a beautiful melody, and that made me strangely more aroused. He held me completely and whispered against my ear.
"I love you."
I couldn't hide the excitement that felt ready to burst—and neither could he.
The studio, once burning with heat, gradually cooled.
He helped me dress so I wouldn't get cold. Then he draped the blanket over me again.
That was when it became obvious: the nude painting had been nothing but an excuse. But it was fine. He'd told me he loved me.
"How is palace life?" he asked, sitting beside me the way he had in the beginning—gentle, warm. "Is it bearable?"
Some part of me felt relieved. Even after everything, he was still kind.
"Compared to where I used to live… this is practically heaven. I'm grateful."
"Heaven…"
"..."
"In your eyes, that's what this place looks like?"
I couldn't answer. Watching him as his smile disappeared. He stared into empty space, as if someone had come to mind, and continued.
"People see the beauty on the surface," he said quietly, "but they don't seem to see the ugliness underneath."
"I'm not sure what you mean…"
"People who keep bothering you," he said. "Aren't there any?"
At his words, several maids came to mind—along with Crown Prince Gowon. And as if he'd read my thoughts, Chaeha's mouth opened again.
"Gowon."
He spoke the Crown Prince's name—one no one dared say carelessly—as if it were nothing. I turned my head, startled. His eyes, which were always softly curved, had gone hard. After a long beat of hesitation, Chaeha asked in a low voice,
"It's better not to run into him. If something keeps irritating him right in front of his eyes, he just… gets rid of it."
"Already…"
"Hm?"
"He already wants to throw me out of the palace. I think I've been marked. A few days ago, he even asked my name."
Chaeha grabbed my shoulders, looking genuinely shocked.
"So you told him?"
"He asked, Your Highness… how could I not answer?"
"Then you really have been marked." His expression tightened. "And he's never been curious about someone's name before."
"Really?"
"He doesn't care about anyone but himself and his work," Chaeha said. "Maybe the senior aide who's been with him for a long time—maybe. But other than that, he's never once asked about people's names."
"He really only cares about work."
"Anyway," he said, voice firm now, "avoid him for a while. Even if you do run into him, greet him and leave. Understood?"
"If I do that, it'll look like I've done something wrong. But I haven't."
"I'm telling you again—this palace isn't an easy place." His gaze sharpened. "And Gowon is someone who has survived here his entire life. He's worse than you think."
"..."
"The brighter the light," he said, "the darker the shadow behind it. Don't forget that."
"Yes. I understand."
When I answered, he pulled me into his arms again, holding me tight.
"I want to stay with you longer," he said softly, "but you should go now. If we're caught, it won't be me who suffers. It'll be you."
"Yes. Today was just… "
"Good," I finished.
"Me too."
When I opened the large door, the corridor was already painted dark. Only the crystal wall lights placed here and there guided the path through the darkness. I closed the door slowly, careful not to make a sound.
Click.
The sound of the door shutting felt strangely loud.
One in the morning. An empty, silent annex. The stillness felt almost frightening.
And of course, the scary story we'd told in the dorm the other day chose that moment to come back to me.
Before bed, Jeong Najeong had gathered us together and shone a flashlight under her face. She was oddly excited. She'd made us promise days ago that we'd do scary stories together, so I couldn't just pretend not to care and lie in bed alone.
"Alright, everyone's here—shall we start?"
We decided the order. Second from the end. After Jeong Najeong's scream ended the last story, my turn came closer.
"I don't know any stories," I tried to brush it off.
But suddenly, Jeong Najeong pointed at me with her index finger and said,
"Sunmi—hey. You like Chaeha-nim, don't you?"
"…It'd be weird if someone that kind wasn't popular."
I was flustered for a moment, but I handled it smoothly. Yet her story was only beginning.
"Even so, don't fall in love with Chaeha-nim."
"What are you even talking about?"
I hadn't realized it was the introduction to her scary story.
"There used to be a girl like you," she said. "A pure, pretty maid. You know Chaeha-nim is kind to everyone, so she couldn't help but fall for him. She gave him her body and her heart. She even followed him around like a stalker. Chaeha-nim got sick of it and stopped responding to her—didn't even acknowledge her. And then she killed herself. Right here, in this room! Come to think of it… I think her spot was this bed."
Jeong Najeong pointed at my bed in the corner.
Even as I listened, I wasn't scared. Rumors always grow and twist into nonsense—why would ghost stories be any different? I slept just fine in that bed the dead girl had supposedly used.
But after meeting Chaeha-nim—and now having to walk down this dark corridor—my whole body turned cold. Only then did goosebumps rise.
Why would Jeong Najeong tell me something like that…
I wanted to run, but then I realized: to anyone watching, I'd look like someone suspicious sneaking into the annex. I forced myself to move carefully.
Please, let me get back safely without running into anyone. Whether it's a person or a ghost.
I crept along like a thief cat, and before I knew it, I saw the stairs leading down. Just as I was about to descend, I saw the shape of a person.
Damn it. Someone's coming up. My face stiffened.
Why is anyone walking around at this hour? What do I do? Should I go back to Chaeha-nim's studio? But if I'm seen like that, Chaeha-nim could get dragged into it too.
This is the moment of choice. I had to shut my eyes and grab any door—any door at all—and slip inside.
Even if it was the Crown Prince's bedroom.
Footsteps drew closer. There was no time to hesitate. I opened the door diagonally across from me and darted inside. The door opened, but it was so dark I couldn't even guess what kind of room it was. In the darkness, with nothing to hold onto, I grew even more afraid.
Where am I…?
I stretched my hand out and crept forward into the room, step by step.
Then someone covered my mouth.
"Who are you?"
That voice—no way…
The god of fate was playing a cruel joke on me again. Behind me was Crown Prince Gowon's voice. Low in pitch, but sharp and sensitive. He repeated, even more coldly,
"Did you not hear me? I asked who you are."
What do I do? What am I supposed to say in a situation like this? He already thinks I'm suspicious.
Fear stole my words. I clenched both fists tight. My heart raced, and my breathing came in short, broken bursts.
But then—what is that smell?
In the dark, my sight was useless, and my sense of smell and touch reacted more sharply. The damp leather glove covering my mouth. Beneath the leather, lingering faintly… was the metallic stench of blood.