In a kingdom torn by power struggles and political intrigue, Jieun, the rightful heir to the throne of the East, finds herself sidelined as her brother, Jungwon, takes control. Determined to reclaim her birthright, Jieun seeks alliances and forms a...
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JUNGWON DID NOT WANT TO BE THE CROWN PRINCE, THE HEIR TO THE THRONE, AND THE FUTURE KING. It felt wrong. So very wrong, as his handmaiden dressed him in his attire. The clothes of a future king, cheeks painted with dried tears and eyes glossed with fresh ones. It had been a mere day since the death of his mother and his older brother. The funeral had been fast, and the people had mourned.
They were loved, very loved and Jungwon could not have been prouder of his family. But how could he ever live up to their reputation? He had not trained for this; he was not ready. Hell, he did not want to. Jungwon wanted to be free from responsibilities. He wanted to play around with his friends and dance to music with Jieun.
'There, my Prince,' the handmaid said, giving him a reassuring smile. 'They are ready for you.'
'I do not want to go,' Jungwon admitted in a low voice.
The handmaiden let out a small sigh and moved towards the door, she knew the boy well enough to tell when he needed his sister. 'Should I call for Princess Jieun?'
'If you please,' Jungwon mumbled.
The handmaiden moved towards the door, calling for Jieun. In an instant, Jieun was inside the room, her dress matching his clothing, albeit a tad more dull. The attention was supposed to be on him either way.
Once the handmaiden had left the room, Jungwon turned towards his sister. 'I cannot do this, Jieun.'
No, Jungwon was not meant for the throne. Jiho was. He had been raised for it. He was filled with honour and pride, duty and sacrifice. Jiho knew when to make hard decisions. He knew how to count the cost of consequence to his people. Crown Prince Jiho had been raised to lead, and Jungwon had not.
Even Jieun was better at it, far better than he ever had been. His heart was in his throat, beating hard. He felt like he was about to choke and die from the anxiety. He felt terrible. He felt like that, terrible feeling, that pain and ache had to be otherworldly. It came in pulsating waves, beating in harmony with his heart.
Harmony what a beautiful word. How he wished to despise it at the moment. How he wished that the world truly was not in harmony.
Yet everything was. Birds chirping in the morning sun. Morning sun rising to dawn. Dawn bringing a new day; a new destiny. And a new destiny bringing a new end. . . Harmony played a symphony of a new world, a new beginning. Crown Prince Jiho was dead, the last song had barely scratched the beginning of the notes until the strings got cut.
