The Crowned Heart | SKZ x Reader

5 | The Eldest Prince

The night had settled into a rhythm of conversation, laughter, and the soft melody of string instruments. I drifted from one group to the next, slowly becoming more comfortable in this grand world. The princes—each with their distinct personalities—had made their marks. Still, one prince seemed conspicuously absent.

I hadn't seen Prince Chan all evening.

As the eldest, destined to inherit the throne, I had expected him to be more present. Perhaps that's why his absence gnawed at my curiosity. I had only heard whispers of him—how serious he was, how dedicated to his future role as king. But seeing him face to face felt like a distant possibility now.

I turned to leave the ballroom for some fresh air. The night sky beyond the arched windows was alluring, and the gardens outside promised a moment of peace away from the grandeur and the pressure. As I slipped out of the hall and into the cool evening, the soft hum of the party faded behind me.

I wandered down a path lined with delicate lanterns, the soft glow of their light casting an ethereal charm over the flowers that lined the walkway. The air was crisp, the scent of jasmine filling my lungs as I took a deep breath.

And then, I saw him.

Prince Chan was standing near the fountain at the center of the garden, his back to me as he looked up at the night sky. The moonlight bathed him in a soft silver glow, highlighting the broad lines of his shoulders. He wasn't dressed as formally as the other princes had been, but even in a simple shirt and jacket, he had a regal air that was impossible to ignore.

For a moment, I hesitated. Should I turn back? Would it be inappropriate to interrupt him?

But something about the way he stood—so alone, so apart from the grandness inside—made me take a step forward.

"You're not enjoying the ball?" My voice was quiet, but it seemed loud in the stillness of the night.

He turned slowly, his gaze meeting mine. For a heartbeat, neither of us spoke. Up close, Prince Chan was more striking than I had imagined. His face, though handsome, held a weight in his eyes—a kind of responsibility that made him seem older than his years.

"I could ask you the same question," he replied, his voice low and smooth. There was a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips, though his eyes still seemed to carry the burden of someone who had the weight of a kingdom resting on his shoulders.

"I needed some air," I admitted, stepping a little closer. "It's overwhelming in there."

Chan nodded, turning his gaze back to the sky. "It can be. Especially when you're not used to it."

I wasn't sure how to respond, so I remained silent, letting the quiet settle between us. It wasn't uncomfortable, though. There was something calming about the way he stood there, as though the garden had become his sanctuary, a place where he could escape the expectations and responsibilities that came with his title.

"I noticed you weren't in the ballroom," I said after a moment, the question slipping out before I could stop it.

Chan glanced at me, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. "I make my rounds when I need to. But I prefer to watch from a distance."

I furrowed my brow. "Don't you think that makes you harder to approach?"

His eyes studied me for a moment, as if weighing my words. "Perhaps. But being approachable isn't always my priority."

That statement hung between us, and I wasn't sure what to make of it. Was he saying that he didn't care to engage with the contestants? Or was it more about the burden of his future role?

"I'm not sure I understand," I said softly.

Chan exhaled, his gaze returning to the sky. "As the future king, I've learned that I can't afford to be... too close to people. The decisions I'll have to make won't always be kind. They won't always be what people want to hear. So, distance—it's a necessity."

There was a heaviness to his words, and for the first time, I saw beyond the polished exterior of royalty—and glimpsed the man beneath. A man burdened by duty, by responsibility, and by the future that awaited him.

"I see," I murmured. "But doesn't that get lonely?"

Chan looked at me again, this time with an intensity that made my breath catch. "Loneliness is part of the job."

I didn't know what to say to that. The truth of his words echoed in the quiet night, and I wondered how much of himself he had sacrificed to be the prince—and future king—that everyone expected him to be.

"You don't strike me as someone who enjoys being on display," he said suddenly, shifting the conversation back to me.

I shook my head, smiling slightly. "Not really. This world is so different from what I'm used to. I still feel like I don't belong."

"You don't think you belong here?" His voice was gentle, yet probing, as though he were genuinely curious about my answer.

I hesitated before speaking, choosing my words carefully. "I'm just... me. I'm not royal. I'm not polished. I grew up working in a bakery, and suddenly, I'm here—competing for something I'm not sure I even understand."

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. "That's exactly why you do belong."

I blinked, taken aback by his words. "What?"

"You're not here because you're polished or because you grew up in luxury," Chan said, his voice quiet but firm. "You're here because you're real. You don't need to pretend to be someone you're not. That's something none of us can afford to do."

I stared at him, unsure of how to respond. There was a sincerity in his words that touched me in a way I hadn't expected. Despite his position, despite the distance he kept from others, there was a part of him that understood—understood the weight of being seen, of being judged, and of trying to navigate a world that often seemed unforgiving.

"Thank you," I said softly, feeling a warmth spread through me. "I hadn't thought of it that way."

Chan offered me a small smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You'll figure it out. You're stronger than you think."

For a long moment, we stood in silence, the night wrapping around us like a blanket. There was something comforting in the quiet, something that made me feel less like an outsider.

But soon, the distant sound of laughter and music reminded us both of the world we had momentarily escaped from.

"I should probably go back," I said reluctantly, though a part of me didn't want to leave the peace of the garden—or the unexpected conversation I had shared with the future king.

Chan nodded, his gaze softening. "I'll see you inside."

I gave him one last smile before turning and walking back toward the palace. As I reached the doors, I glanced back over my shoulder, only to see him standing exactly where I had left him, staring up at the stars.

It was in that moment I realized that Prince Chan wasn't just a future king—he was a man who had spent his whole life preparing for a role that would never allow him to be anything less than perfect. And yet, in that brief conversation, I had seen a glimpse of something more. Something real.