Hyunlukawoo (Royal AU)

by malvi8

Summary:

Hyunlukawoo (Prince X Guards AU)

They about to make an oreo iykwim

No but in all seriousness, I try to stay as accurate to the lore of Alien Stage as possible, and just convert it to suit my AU's setting. I DO MY RESEARCH GUYS. I analyse every scene, metaphor and character just give you this elite story. No deaths though because vivinos has made us suffer enough.

Both Hyuna and Hyunwoo are alive and will continue to live.

Notes:

If you like this please check out my IvanTill work too:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/70578596

Chapter 1: Betrayal of the Knights

The royal guards have betrayed me. Every single one of them.
I'm not like other princes. I've carried a flawed reputation since birth.

My father, Heperu, made me artificially—crafted me, you could say. I have no mother. No biological relation to the man who calls himself my father.

Why did he do this?

To make me perfect.

Porcelain skin, clear and pale. Shiny, soft blonde hair. A thin frame, delicate—almost angelic. And a voice, sweet and soft, that could charm anyone within earshot.

But in his attempt to create a flawless child, he made one mistake:
He created me too perfectly. So perfect that I was imperfect.
Congenital heart disease. A defect in the way my heart was formed. The blood that flows through me does so weakly. Too weakly.

It causes cyanosis. My fingers have a deep purple hue because of it. A constant, quiet reminder that I am not, in fact, perfect.
I can barely breathe on some days. I tire easily. The disease makes me frail.

That's why my father insisted on having guards around me almost constantly. I'm incapable of defending myself.
In his eyes, I am a precious vessel. Fragile and priceless.

But the guards?
They betrayed me.

How?

By becoming the very weapon that would bring about my downfall.

They didn't like the way I was treated. Like an object, a delicate thing to be locked away from the world.

I knew what they thought, but I took no interest in it.
I am not a prince in their eyes. I am a thing created by my father's obsession with perfection.They believe I was never meant to rule, that I can't, because I am weak. Just an object meant to be looked at.

And then, one fateful night, it happened.

I was alone. No guards in sight. That's when the assassin struck.
It was the perfect setup. My heart was failing me, my breath shallow, struggling, while the assassin, who'd been slipped into the royal palace by one of my own, attacked at the exact moment of my weakness.

I barely had the strength to fight back.
But somehow... I lived.

Later, every single one of the guards assigned to me confessed to being involved.

Father was shocked. In disbelief. Betrayed.
They were all dismissed.
But it's not like I can stay guardless forever.

So today, I'll be assigned two new personal guards.
Twins, so I've heard.
They originally served as part of the royal guard for a foreign kingdom but are now seeking residence here.
To make that possible, my father struck a deal: they would be granted sanctuary, as long as they served his precious son.
Me.
Luka.
Today, I'll finally be meeting them.

I've been sitting on my throne, just beside my father's, waiting for the twins' arrival. It's awkward. My father and I don't have the best relationship. At least, not in my eyes.
I act the part of a perfect, doting son, but my feelings toward him are... mixed.
I only act to please him. To survive in royal society.
And he only loves me because I'm his shiny golden trophy.

Then the doors open.

"Dame Hyuna and Sir Hyunwoo."

I sit up as their names are announced.

I look down at them. They are nearly identical, though fraternal, male and female. It's bizarre to look at. Like seeing the same face split in two bodies.

They bow deeply.

"Your Royal Highnesses," says the woman. She must be Dame Hyuna.

"Ah, you've made it. I was starting to think you'd ditched my offer," my father says, laughing at his own joke.

Hyunwoo shoots Hyuna a look. Some kind of twin telepathy, I assume.

"As you know," my father continues, "you'll serve as personal guards for my precious heir. He is quite weak and fragile, so do pay special attention to his needs."

I want to roll my eyes, but I resist.

I rise and step down from the throne to meet them face-to-face.
They look at me, almost in awe.
I'm used to this reaction.
I mean, I am inhumanly beautiful.

"Pleasure to meet you both. It's Sir Hyunwoo and Dame Hyuna, right?" I smile sweetly.

Hyunwoo nods. "Yes, Your Highness."

"Pleasures all ours," chimes in Hyuna.

Chapter 2: Testing of Twins

Notes:

Sorry this was so late. Senior years are killing me and my creativity.

Anyways I'm here to feed you again children. Something Luka never got from his guardian. (Get it cuz he's starved?? .... Please laugh)

I’ve been staring at my fingers.
Counting them, again and again.
Ten fingers.
Ten human fingers.
Ten purple fingers.
They’ve turned even more purple from my near-death experience with my last guards.

It’s a weird habit I’ve developed, counting my fingers to remind myself that I’m human, though expected to be a machine.

Dame Hyuna and Sir Hyunwoo have been watching me do this for about half an hour now. I expected one of them to speak, question me. But they’re well-trained. They know not to pry or comment on things that don’t concern them. Something my last guards couldn’t do.

I’ve probably counted my fingers a hundred times already. I should stop. I don’t want to seem crazy or vulnerable in front of them.

I lower my hands into my lap, the urge to count still itching in my fingers.

“Do you always stand so quietly?” I ask, glancing between them. My tone is light, curious, not accusing.

Hyunwoo answers first. “We were told you value peace, Your Highness.”

“Peace,” I echo, smiling faintly.

I don’t value anything. I simply exist. Wearing the ideals, morals, and beliefs of others like a second skin. Apparently, that’s what makes a perfect prince. A prince of the people. My father must have told them I ‘value peace.’ I wonder what else he’s told them, given he doesn’t know me at all.

“And here I thought you might simply be shy.”

Hyuna’s gaze meets mine, steady and unreadable. “We’re not shy, Your Highness. We just listen before we speak.”

“Good,” I murmur. “Then I’ll be interested to hear what you say once you’ve done enough listening.”

“Would you wish for us to speak, Your Highness?” Hyunwoo asks.

“I do not wish anything on you. Do as you must.” The words are simple yet leave room for personal interpretation, a subtle test, and I wonder if they catch on.
They exchange a look, a silent conversation passing between them.

Hyuna clears her throat lightly. “Then perhaps we should begin with something simple, Your Highness. May we ask… what do you enjoy doing when you are alone?”
Hyunwoo adds, calm and measured, “Even something small. Reading, walking through the gardens, music…”

I tilt my head, studying them. Their approach is careful, thoughtful, not intrusive. Perfectly balanced.

“I… walk sometimes,” I admit deliberately. “Mostly in the east garden. The paths are quiet… and no one bothers me there.”

Hyuna nods, as if filing away the detail. “That sounds peaceful. Perhaps we could accompany you sometime, if you allow it?”

Hyunwoo’s gaze meets mine briefly. “Only if you wish it, of course. We are here to serve, not to intrude.”

“No… no, I think that’s a wonderful idea. In fact, we should go right now.” I rise to my feet.

I begin to walk, and they fall into step behind me. Hyuna on my right, Hyunwoo on my left. A deliberate formation, unchanging for some reason. I wonder if that’s simply how they were trained.
It makes me curious about their training. I’d like to watch them someday, see them spar. It might be… entertaining.

We arrive at the garden, and I slow my pace, letting my steps carry me past every flower and plant, the so-called pretty ones, the not-so-pretty ones. It’s strange how people feel the need to categorize everything, even plants, into “beautiful” or “ugly.” To me, they’re all the same.

I decide to test the twins again. So far, their answers have amused me.

“Which of these plants are most to your liking?” I ask.

“All of them are beautiful, Your Highness. I think all of nature is gorgeous,” Hyuna says.

Most people would say that when they don’t have a set favourite, but I can tell she really means it. Her answer says a lot in only a few words.

“And you, Sir Hyunwoo?” I ask.

“I don’t really care for plants,” Hyunwoo replies bluntly, as if he didn’t bother to think before speaking.

Hyuna nudges him with her shoulder as if she knew there was something more to me asking that question.

“Hmm… I see,” I murmur.

At first, their personalities seemed similar, the way they walk, talk, present themselves. But now I see they’re not. Dame Hyuna is a warm, nurturing soul, attentive to the world around her. Sir Hyunwoo is more casual, in-the-moment… blunt, perhaps, but not without his own charm.
Hyunwoo has seemed almost bored this whole time, only focused when something interesting happens, while Hyuna has just been watching over me like an attentive mother.

I notice a young maid scuttling past the garden gate, her eyes wide as if she’d seen a ghost.

“Come here,” I call, my voice soft but commanding. She freezes, then hurries toward me, bowing nervously.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

I lean slightly forward, my hands folded neatly. “Tell me… you were the maid I assigned to tell the gardener to take care of these weeds?”

She blinks. “Y-yes, Your Highness. I—”

“Then,” I cut in, tilting my head. “Why are the weeds still here?”

“I… I must have forgotten, Your Highness,” she stammers.

I let a faint, almost imperceptible smile tug at my lips. “You see, it’s important to obey closely, even the smallest commands. People often make mistakes when they think no one is watching. Mistakes can be… costly. You know I want this garden in the best condition possible.”

Her shoulders tense. “I understand, Your Highness. I’ll… I’ll be more careful.”

“Excellent,” I murmur, my tone soft and approving. I lift her chin slightly with a finger. “You’ll find that obedience is… rewarded. And failure…” I let the words linger, watching her swallow nervously. “…can be corrected.”

She nods quickly, her gaze fixed on mine, not daring to look away.

“You are dismissed.”

As she scurries away, I straighten in my seat. Sweet words, soft tone, a smile, but the weight of control is there, barely visible, yet unmistakable. Most people think I’m harmless. They never see the games I play… the ways I test and bend them without breaking a sweat.

I turn back to see the twins glancing at each other again.

“If you have something to say, I suggest you speak up,” I smile, but it lacks warmth.

They both shake their heads.

“Good.”

Chapter 3: Flawed Creation

Notes:

Two uploads in two days??

I'm on a roll.

....But I can't promise to be consistent :P

The summons comes without warning.

One of the estate’s guards appears at my door, stiff-backed and unsmiling.
“Your father requests you in the training yard.”

Requests. My father doesn’t request anything. He commands. Always has. Always will.

My steps echo against the stone as I cross the training ground, Hyuna and Hyunwoo's steps following close behind me. My stomach is heavy with dread. The torches burn low, casting my father’s shadow long across the dirt. He turns at my approach, and for a fleeting moment, there’s something almost tender in his gaze.

“Luka,” he says, voice measured, almost warm.

I bow my head. “Yes, Father.”

“You’re growing into your place. You truly are a perfect heir, except, of course, in strength. Your ... condition is far too frail, more like a diseased princess than a prince soon to be king." It seems like Father hesitates to even mention my illness. After all, in his eyes, it's the only flaw I have, one which he desperately wants to eliminate.

"That is why you have called me to the training grounds, I presume?" I ask for confirmation.

He gestures to the swords propped against the wall. “Tonight, we train. A body, no matter how fragile, can be moulded into steel. And you, my son, must be flawless.”

His words wrap around me like chains. I pick up the sword.

"Hyunwoo" he says like an order, "spar with my son, why don't you? After all, you two are so professionally trained, I'm sure you'll be able to teach my son well."

He hesitates, looking into my eyes as if to ask if he should proceed. I don't do or say anything. I am just a puppet of my father. If he wants something, I am sure to deliver without argue. Seeing no reply, he grabs one of the other swords.

"Go on. I would like to see this," Father says excitedly, almost too excitedly.

Hyunwoo takes his stance, hesitating just a moment longer before Father clears his throat, a sharp warning. Then he lunges, and the clang of steel against steel reverberates in my arms.

The force rattles me. My grip trembles, wrists already aching under the weight of the blade. I manage to parry, barely, but the movement steals my breath. My chest tightens, sharp and unforgiving.

“Again,” Father says, leaning forward, eyes glinting with anticipation.

Hyunwoo strikes. My feet stumble back across the dirt, sword slipping lower with each clash. I can feel the blood draining from my fingers, their usual purplish hue deepening. My lungs claw for air, my heartbeat hammering against bone.

“Hold!” Father’s voice cuts through the sound of metal.

I freeze, gasping, clutching the hilt with both hands just to keep it from falling.

“You see?” Father steps closer, circling me like a hawk. “You have skill in form, but strength?” He scoffs. “Strength escapes you.”

Heat floods my face. I want to speak, to argue that I can do this, but all I can manage is a shallow, breathless inhale.

“Again!” Father barks, louder now.

Hyunwoo looks at me, hesitation plain in his eyes. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to strike me when I can barely keep my knees from buckling. But Father’s glare leaves no room for refusal.

The next hit comes harder, and my chest gives way. The sword slips from my grasp, clattering against the dirt. My knees crash to the ground as I clutch at my chest, trying, failing, to draw air in.

“Luka!” Hyuna’s voice pierces the night, full of panic.

Father’s expression shifts in an instant, from feigned tenderness to cold fury. “Pathetic,” he snarls, his boot slamming down on my fallen sword. “A disgrace to my bloodline.”

"I- tried father. I just... can't breathe," I say, clawing at my chest as if punishing it will help it work.

"Can't breathe? I'll show you what not being able to breathe is like!" he suddenly grabs me by the throat, squeezing hard.

I can practically see life slipping away. His grip isn't strong, but combined with my heart disease already trying to choke me as well, I stand no chance.

He eventually lets go and walks away unaffected. I gasp a sharp, hard gasp for air. The breath feels like a stab in my lungs. I cough and gasp violently, tears prickling my eyes.

I double over, vision blurring, fingers clawing at the earth. Hyuna is beside me in a heartbeat, her hand on my back, trying to steady me. Hyunwoo steps forward too, sword still in hand, his jaw set in defiance.

They must be very confused. Everyone knows my father as a doting father, always constantly obsessing over how perfect his heir is. They probably never expected they would see him attempt to murder that son. But I know better. I know he wants to get rid of my one and only flaw, even if that means killing me and making a whole new heir.

Hyuna covers my mouth with her hand, forcing me to breathe through my nose.

"That's it, just breathe. You'll be ok," her voice is soothing, almost motherly.

My breathing eventually stills. She carefully removes her hand.

Hyunwoo looks at me, a guilty expression on his face, before speaking up, "I'm sorry... I didn't-"

"I know, don't apologise. It's not your fault."

It's mine.

"Let me help get you back to your chamber." Hyunwoo wraps one of my arms around his shoulder and helps to stabilise me up onto my feet.

Each step back toward the estate feels heavier than the last. My legs tremble as though they might give out beneath me at any moment. Hyunwoo’s grip is firm, steady, keeping me upright, while Hyuna shadows my other side like a silent shield.

The silence between us is suffocating. I know they’re holding back questions, concerns. They’re trained not to speak unless spoken to, and yet I can feel their worry pressing against me like a weight.

By the time we reach my chamber, sweat slicks my brow, and my breath comes in shallow pulls. Hyunwoo eases me down onto the bed as if I were made of glass. I let him. I don’t have the strength to resist.

Hyuna kneels in front of me, her eyes sharp with concern. “You should not be pushed like that,” she whispers, her voice trembling in a way I didn’t expect from her.

I laugh weakly, a bitter sound. “You think that was pushing? That was nothing. That was... normal.”

The look that passes between the twins makes my stomach twist. Pity. Horror. They don’t say it, but they’ve already seen more truth in one night than most ever will.

Hyunwoo’s hands tighten into fists at his sides. “He could have killed you.” His voice is low, laced with anger he’s clearly fighting to keep under control. “He wanted to.”

“Of course he did,” I murmur. My voice is thin, almost weightless. “But you don’t understand. My father doesn’t want a son who coughs blood into his hands. He wants a trophy. Perfect, unyielding, untouchable. If I can’t be that,” I trail off, my gaze fixed on my trembling hands, “Then I’m nothing.”

Hyuna reaches out, covering my hands with hers. Her touch is gentle, grounding. “That’s not true,” she says firmly, her voice carrying a conviction I can’t muster myself.

Hyunwoo’s voice cuts in, sharper, harsher. “If he tries something like that again, I won’t just stand by.” His jaw is set, his eyes burning with defiance. “I don’t care if he’s your father or my king.”

My breath catches, not from my illness this time, but from the weight of his words. Defiance like that is dangerous. Treasonous. And yet, a small part of me, a selfish, aching part, wants to believe him.

I let out a shaky exhale, leaning back into the pillows. My voice is barely audible when I whisper.
“You’ll only get yourselves killed.”

Notes:

Luka really getting choked and beating up every episode huh? Even my my own AU :(

Justice for Luka!!!!!!!

Chapter 4: Rubik’s Cube

Notes:

Sorry for the gap between uploads. I never promised consistancy :)

But if people really want me to just get on with the story I can potentially place a specific day of the week for weekly uploads

idk. comment if you want weekly uploads.

“Prince Luka?”

It’s Hyuna, calling my name. A simple way of asking permission to speak.

“Yes, Dame Hyuna?” I reply.

Usually, I don’t let anyone disturb my teatime in the gardens, but I’ll allow it this once. Today only Hyuna is assigned to me. It’s Hyunwoo’s training day. The twins alternate when one of them needs time for training, but most days they are both by my side. Rare occasions like this are the only times I ever see them apart.

“I have a gift for you. Please accept it with gratitude.”

There’s a slight stammer in her voice, almost as if she’s nervous. I’ve never seen her nervous. Usually, both twins are confident, steady, like immovable objects. They work under my father’s and my authority, but the way they carry themselves, it’s as though they answer to no one but themselves.

She holds out an odd, colorful cube in her hands, presenting it to me. I take it, turning it over.

“I know it isn’t a gift fit for a prince, but I thought you might enjoy it,” she says, watching me inspect it.

“Um… what is this… thing?” I ask, careful not to sound ungrateful.

“You don’t know what it is?” she looks shocked.

I shake my head.

“It’s a Rubik’s Cube, your highness,” she explains, her confidence returning. “It’s a fidget toy that tests your cognitive skills. It’s simple. You just have to match the colors.” She holds out her hand, asking for it back so she can demonstrate.

I hand it over.

She twists and turns the cube, the colors shifting with each movement. I watch, entranced, as the squares fall neatly into place. Soon, each side is a solid block of color. She smiles proudly, scrambles it again, and hands it back to me.

“I know it’s a strange gift, but I often see you counting your fingers as a distraction. I thought a fidget toy might be better for that,” she says.

I stare at her in awe. That’s… incredibly thoughtful. I hold the cube a little tighter, as if I can absorb the kindness she’s poured into it.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice barely audible.

She hears me anyway and smiles brightly.

My heart stirs at that smile. It’s soft, genuine, almost motherly. Like she really cares. At least, I want to believe she does.

“Try it,” she encourages.

I twist one side, pausing to study the colors. Intriguing.

“You probably won’t get it right on the first try, but with practice—”

I hold up the now-solved cube. That was… surprisingly easy. And fun.

“What!” she blurts, then quickly composes herself. She clears her throat. “Well, that was rather fast, wasn’t it, your highness? I did set it up to be simple for your first attempt. If you’d like, I can jumble it up harder.”

I hand it back. She takes it, but before twisting, she pauses.

“Close your eyes this time. And no peeking,” she says.

The childlike tone makes me smile. I cover my eyes with both hands, just like in hide-and-seek. I didn’t get to play games as a child. My father threw me into lessons and duties the moment I could walk, determined to mold the perfect heir. But this… this feels different. Like reliving the childhood I never had. Silly little games, simply for the joy of them.

“Done. You can open your eyes now.”

She places the cube in my hands. I study it, plan my moves, then twist and turn until each side is perfectly sorted. I glance at Hyuna, almost hoping for her approval, even praise.

“Wow. You’re really good at that. I guess my gift wasn’t such a good one if you can solve it that easily,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck.

“No!” I say quickly, then soften my tone. “No, I like it. It’s… nice.”

She studies me for a moment. “You know, the more I think about it, the more I realize you resemble a child.”

I tilt my head slightly, waiting for her to elaborate.

“I mean… you get very attached to one particular thing, like a child would. Some of your habits too—they feel innocent, pure. I suppose what I’m really trying to say is… I find you… quite cute.”

Cute?

Heat rushes to my cheeks. My heart races too fast—I wonder if I’m having heart trouble again. I try to hold her gaze but fail miserably.

The garden feels too quiet now, as if the whole world is holding its breath. I should say something, anything, to ease her nerves after such a confession.

I open my mouth, but no words come.

Fortunately, the silence breaks with a familiar voice.

“Prince Luka. I have returned.”

It’s Hyunwoo.

And thank goodness for his timing.

Chapter 5: Unsolveable Puzzle

The Rubik’s Cube rests in my hands, turning almost without thought. The colours slide into place one after another, though I’m not really paying attention. My eyes keep drifting upward, catching Hyuna’s expression, wide-eyed, amazed, chin resting lazily on her hand as she watches me.

“You make it look easy,” she says, her tone balancing wonder and playful teasing. “But you’re cheating somehow, aren’t you?”

I glance up. “Cheating?”

“Yes,” she grins. “You must have some secret code in your head. No one should be able to solve them that fast.”

I twist the last side into place and frown. “I am human.”

I am human.

The words echo in my mind like a prayer.

Her laugh spills out, light and unguarded, and somehow it warms my chest even as it brushes against something sad inside me.

“You’re not like anyone I’ve met before, Prince Luka. That’s what I mean.”

Her words stay with me longer than they should. She takes the cube from me and scrambles it again, fingers quick and careless. My eyes never leave her face. Every time she glances up, she finds me still watching, as though I’m searching for something in her I can’t quite name.

Movement shifts at the edge of my vision. Hyunwoo slips quietly into the room, gaze landing first on his sister, then on me. He says nothing, but the weight of his stare is impossible to ignore.

“Hyunwoo, look!” Hyuna turns toward him, smiling brightly. “He solved it again!”

Her joy is meant for him, but his response is only a stiff nod.

“Impressive,” he says, though the word is flat, lacking any warmth.

His eyes flick to the cube in my hands, then to the closeness between me and Hyuna, before he quickly looks away. I tell myself I’m imagining the shift in his expression.

Later, Hyuna suggests a walk through the palace gardens. She walks beside me, pointing out flowers with patient care, naming each one as though I should remember them forever. I try, clumsy and fumbling, and she laughs when I mispronounce the sounds. Her laughter softens into gentle corrections, and I repeat each word until she’s satisfied.

For a moment, I almost forget Hyunwoo is with us, until I notice him trailing just a step behind, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“You learn quickly,” he murmurs. “Too quickly.”

I pause, unsure what he means. Before I can ask, Hyuna takes my arm, tugging me forward toward another flowerbed, her voice bright and full of life. It makes my heart flutter.

The rest of the walk passes in a blur of colours, her laughter ringing like music. I find myself almost yearning for that warmth, her gentle love, freely given. Yet all the while, I can feel Hyunwoo’s eyes on me, sharp and unblinking.

That night, when I set the cube on my bedside table, I think of Hyuna’s smile and Hyunwoo’s silence. For the first time, the puzzle doesn’t feel like the only mystery I need to solve.

***

The next morning, I wake and glance instinctively at the cube. Somewhere along the way, it’s become more than a toy, something I hold onto, as though it keeps me tethered to her. I had left it solved, neatly aligned. But now the colours are scrambled.

Frowning, I wonder if Hyuna crept in and mixed it up for me, though I can’t imagine why she’d do that.

I shrug it off and begin twisting it back into place. One side, then another, each piece falls where it should, until only two blocks remain wrong.

Strange.

I undo and redo it, again and again, but the same impossible mistake remains. The cube is unsolvable. As though someone has switched two pieces with each other.
Frustration builds until I set the puzzle aside, defeated.

Perhaps I’ve simply lost my skill.

At breakfast, the emptiness in my hands feels heavier than I’d expected.

“Where’s that toy you always carry around, Your Highness?” Hyunwoo asks. His voice carries a note of mockery.

“On my shelf,” I answer quietly. “I can’t seem to solve it anymore.”

“Can’t solve it!?” Hyuna gasps. “That’s a first.”

Her surprise is genuine, but when my gaze flicks to Hyunwoo, I think I see the faintest trace of satisfaction tugging at his lips.

Chapter 6: Flustered Teasing

I had just started twisting the cube again, trying to figure out why I couldn’t solve it, when I felt someone watching me.

Hyunwoo’s eyes flicked between the shifting colours in my hands and the chair where Hyuna had been moments ago. There was a sharpness there, like he was measuring me, weighing me against some invisible standard.

“You spend too much time with my sister,” he says, approaching with that faint curve of a smirk. His words are sharp, but his eyes… they are enjoying themselves.

I look up cautiously. “She enjoys talking to me.”

“And you enjoy listening,” he counters. “Or is it just that you like the way she looks at you?”

Heat creeps across my cheeks. “I don’t know what you mean,” I say, twisting the cube a little too forcefully.

He laughs low and quiet, the kind of laugh that makes my chest tighten. “You’re too easy to fluster, Prince Luka. It’s almost fun. You’re usually so… blank, so unreadable. But when my sister is mentioned, you get all shy and childlike.”

Almost fun.

I want to argue, but the cube stops moving in my hands. He had a way of freezing me mid-thought, like he could see my nerves laid bare.

The teasing didn’t stop there. By the end of breakfast, he had commented on the way I held my spoon, the angle of my napkin, even the way I chewed my toast. Each remark came with a faint smirk or a sideways glance, and each one made my cheeks burn hotter than the last.

“I notice you twist your cube the same way every time,” he remarks casually later, leaning against the doorway as I tried again to solve the unsolvable cube. “Predictable.”

“I prefer consistent technique,” I reply dryly, hoping he won’t notice the tremble in my hands.

He chuckles and leans closer, as if daring me to respond. “Do you even notice how red your ears get when I point these things out?”

“Do you notice how much you talk?” I shoot back, surprising even myself.

He pauses, raising an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Touché, Prince Luka.”

It was a dangerous little spark, this back-and-forth. Every playful jab, every correction, every teasing smirk from him pressed against me in a way I couldn’t quite categorise.

By mid-afternoon, me and Hyuna were in the gardens together. She suddenly needs to leave and as soon as she is out of sight, he appears beside me, hands tucked behind his back, watching.

“You talk to her too much,” he says again, picking a flower, staring at it and moment and putting it in my hair. “I don’t see why she bothers with you.”

I laugh slightly, “I assure you, she likes me very much.”

He narrows his eyes. “We’ll I don’t approve of it.”

I tilt my head, offering a small, playful grin. “Are you jealous?”

He flushes slightly and scowls. “I am not.”

“You’re blushing.”

“I am not.”

“Yet your ears disagree. Don't worry, I won't steal your sister from you just yet.”

And there it was, the first crack in the wall I had been staring at. The guard who always seemed so impenetrable, so composed, could be rattled. Could be flustered.

He tries to recover, shifting his stance. “You think this is clever, don’t you?”

“I think it’s entertaining,” I reply lightly, taking the flower he put in my hair out and twirling it between my fingers.

From that point, it became a game. He’d comment on the way I held my teacup. I’d retort with some pointed remark about his smirk. He’d remark on how I meticulously polished my boots, I’d joke that he needs to polish his face in the mirror more often.

Every interaction was a little battle. Every glance carried the tension of amusement mixed with something I couldn’t name. He started leaning in a little too close when he thought I wasn’t looking. He started timing his jokes just right to get under my skin, but not so much as to make me storm off.

And slowly, imperceptibly, the teasing softened. It lingered in his eyes, even when his words still stung. There was a weight there now, not just of jealousy, but of fascination, of reluctant admiration. I noticed the way he stayed near me longer than he needed, the way he tilted his head just to watch me, the way he smirked when I flustered him back.

Chapter 7: Sword and Shield

Notes:

If you like this please check out my other work too:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/70118386/chapters/182040611

The training grounds smell faintly of steel and dust, the air cool enough to sting my lungs when I breathe too deeply. I already know today will be difficult. My technique is flawless—my father drilled it into me until every movement feels like instinct, but technique alone never stops the burning ache in my chest. It never steadies the uneven pull of breath when I push myself too far. My lungs, my body… they simply can’t keep up.

Hyuna stands at the edge of the floor, hands folded neatly in front of her, her eyes soft in a way that feels like sunlight I don’t deserve. She has a way of making encouragement sound natural, effortless, as if she truly believes every word she says about me being capable.

“You’ll be fine,” she murmurs when she catches me adjusting my grip for the third time. “Just breathe slow and deep. Don’t rush yourself and take breaks if you need.”

Her voice steadies me more than I’d like to admit.

“Stop babying him. He knows his limit.” Hyunwoo is standing in front of me, sword in hand, still waiting for me to land a decent hit.

“Still, we have to be careful,” Hyuna huffs.

I draw in another deep breath and begin again. My sword cuts through the air toward him. He raises his own, blocking it with ease. I swing again. And again. And again. Each time faster than the last.. until exhaustion catches me. My grip falters, and when I swing again, it’s so weak he doesn’t even bother blocking.

“Seriously?” He arches a brow. “You’re going to do no damage with hits as soft as that.”

I want to curse him out, but I don’t, because I’m supposed to be a good, proper prince.

“You try fighting when I punch a hole through your lungs,” I retort, breath ragged.

“Good luck trying. If you can’t even land a hit with a sword, there’s no way you’ll manage with your fists.” His grin is infuriating.

Hyuna steps in, gently guiding me toward a chair. She eases me down, her hand lingering on my shoulder.

“Quit teasing him. It’s not nice to mock someone over a health condition,” she says firmly.

That, finally, shuts Hyunwoo up.

“You know…” I lean back, catching my breath. “I’ve always wanted to see you two spar. You’re both expertly trained. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a good match.”

Hyunwoo’s mouth quirks into a grin at my suggestion. “Finally. Something interesting.” He rolls his shoulders, lifting his blade.
Hyuna sighs but steps forward.

They both raise their swords in a steady and precise way, their stances so clean it looks like a painting come to life.

The air shifts the moment they face each other. I can feel it, sharp and electric.

Hyunwoo lunges first, blade flashing. His strikes are heavy, fast, meant to overwhelm. Hyuna meets them all with quiet efficiency blocking them easily. No wasted movement, no stumble, each parry flows into the next like water curving around stone.

I watch, spellbound.

Hyunwoo is like a sword—sharp, relentless, made to cut down whatever stands in his way. Every swing is meant to prove something, to dominate, to leave a mark.

Hyuna, though, is a shield. She doesn’t fight to overpower; she fights to endure, to redirect, to outlast. It’s beautiful.

My chest burns again, but this time it isn’t from my lungs. It’s from the sharp ache of knowing I’ll never be either of them. My father wanted me to be both blade and shield—strong, sharp, enduring, perfect. But in this metaphor, I’m the fragile space between them, the one they’re forced to protect.

I sigh, because it’s true. They’re here to defend me because I can't do so myself. Not from enemies, and not even from my own lungs.

“You’re holding back,” Hyunwoo growls, striking harder.

“I don’t need to use force to win,” she answers calmly, her blade sliding his aside in a single clean motion.

After their spar, I grab my own sword again, ready to try again, motivated by seeing them fight so beautifully.

Hyuna steps closer, her hand hovering just above my shoulder. “Prince Luka… you’ve done enough for today,” she says softly, almost afraid I’ll refuse.

I shake my head, trying to muster the pride that my father demands of me. “I… I can keep going,” I murmur, but my voice cracks with exhaustion.

Hyunwoo lowers his sword, leaning casually on it, but his eyes are sharp, scrutinizing me in a way that makes me uncomfortable. “You think you’re proving something,” he says, voice teasing but carrying a weight I can’t ignore. “But you’re hurting yourself. And honestly, it’s annoying.”

I glance at him, trying to read whether he’s joking or serious. He smirks, like he’s enjoying seeing me squirm, yet there’s something protective behind the teasing.

Hyuna places both hands gently on my arms. “Look at him, Prince Luka,” she says quietly, nodding toward Hyunwoo. “Even he thinks you’ve done more than enough.”

I can feel my chest tighten, not from exertion this time but from the mix of their care and my own frustration. I want to be perfect like my father expects, yet the more I strive for it, the more I'm met with failure.

Hyunwoo straightens, “We’ll call it a day. But don’t think this means I’m going easy on you next time.”

I manage a small, tired smile. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Hyuna smiles, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. “Rest now. You’ve earned it.”

Chapter 8: Ballroom Dance

The grand ballroom glimmers under a thousand crystal chandeliers, their light reflecting off polished marble floors and gilded decorations. The air smells faintly of perfume and candle wax, a sweetness that makes my chest tighten in ways both familiar and foreign.

As soon as the doors open for me, my name is announced: “Prince Luka the Third.” Heads turn instantly, every gaze in the room landing on me.

I smile. A proper, friendly smile, as any prince should. Hyuna and Hyunwoo walk beside me, one on each side. This is their first ball accompanying me.

With the arrival of my father, King Herperu, the dancing begins.

Immediately, I am swarmed by people asking for a spot on my dance card. In seconds, it is full… all but the very first slot. That first dance, I am reserving for someone in particular.

I scan the ballroom.

And then I see her.

Mizi.

Her unmistakable pink and blue hair draws attention as naturally as the chandeliers reflect light. Our eyes meet, and for a moment, the noise of the ballroom fades into a dull hum as she approaches.

She bows. I bow back.

“May I have this dance, Lady Mizi?” I extend my hand.

“You may,” she replies, placing her hand in mine.

The crowd watches eagerly. Our dance is always the highlight of every ball. Two of the most sought-after people in the room dancing together—undoubtedly, it turns every head.

We are expected to dance at every ball. Expected to smile. Expected to be perfect.

The entire court anticipates that I will make Mizi my princess. They expect me to marry her. And yet, I know the truth.

She despises me. I despise her.

And yet, we dance, smiles painted on our faces as if we are the only ones who do not.

We move in sync, every step precise, every turn flawless, as though we have been dancing together our whole lives. A practiced grace hides the tension coiled between us. Laughter and applause ripple around the ballroom, but our smiles are masks, carefully crafted for the audience. Every bow, every step, every twirl is a performance, not of affection, but of control, of manipulation.

It is ironic, almost poetic. In another life, under different circumstances, perhaps we might have understood each other. Two flawed people, forced to perform perfection. Two manipulators, bound by expectation rather than desire.

As the dance ends, the crowd cheers, clapping and bowing in admiration of the “perfect match.” Mizi inclines her head, polite and flawless. I bow, acknowledging our little game of control over the audience.

She hates me. I hate her. And yet, I see myself in her, and perhaps that is the cruellest part.

Perhaps she hates me because she also sees herself in me.

And perhaps, by that logic, our hatred is not just for each other… it is for the versions of ourselves that society demands we be.

***

The carriage ride back to the palace is quiet, the soft clatter of wheels against cobblestone the only sound accompanying us.

Hyuna leans slightly closer, her voice gentle but curious. “Prince Luka… who was that noblewoman you danced with? The one with the pink hair?”

“She’s… my to-be wife,” I say calmly, keeping my tone neutral, almost as if stating a fact.

Both twins go still for a moment. I glance at them, noting the subtle shifts on their faces. Hyuna’s eyes widen slightly, and Hyunwoo’s shoulders stiffen.

“Your betrothed?” Hyuna asks softly, almost testing the weight of the words.

“Not entirely,” I hesitate. “It’s… something the court assumes. Nothing official. Nothing spoken.”

Hyunwoo laughs, a low, amused sound carrying a trace of irritation. “Expected, huh? How convenient. The perfect arrangement, according to everyone but the two people involved.” His eyes glint as he shoots me a sideways look. “Do you enjoy playing along with these expectations, Prince Luka?”

I pause, not wanting to phrase it that way. I don’t play along. I survive.

“It is… easier to do as expected than to argue with the entire court.”

“So this dance… this ‘expectation’… it’s just a performance for the court?” His gaze lingers on me.

I nod slightly.

“You’re not actually going to marry her, are you?” asks Hyuna, concerned.

“Probably. Eventually,” I admit.

They glance at each other, communicating through mere looks, some sort of twin telepathy.

“You’ve got to stop thinking of yourself as a pawn in some sort of scheme. Whatever happened to putting yourself first? Forget what anyone else thinks. Stand up for yourself and stop being such a pushover,” Hyunwoo says, a mix of irritation and something unspoken in his voice.

“Hyunwoo! Language. You are still speaking to a prince, so act accordingly,” Hyuna scolds gently. “But he is right. You may be a prince, but you need to look out for yourself because no one else will.”

I feel a faint smile tug at my lips. That’s not entirely true. I have two people already looking out for me. Hyuna and Hyunwoo.

For the first time, I realize they both genuinely care for me. More than anyone else in my life ever has. That thought makes my chest flutter in a way I can’t quite understand yet.

Chapter 9: Jealousy in the Chamber

The palace is quiet at night, stripped of its grandness. No lights, no chatter, only the faint echo of footsteps along marble corridors. I should retire alone, but instead, as always, Hyuna and Hyunwoo follow.

In my chambers, the air is heavy with the lingering scent of candle smoke and lavender. Hyunwoo throws himself onto the couch with a sigh, tugging off his gloves, while Hyuna busies herself with pouring water at the table, placing the filled glass in front of me.

I can feel both of their eyes on me, though neither speaks first.

I take the glass and sip carefully.

Finally, Hyunwoo breaks the silence. “So,” he says, voice edged in mock casualness, “Lady Mizi, the pink-haired one. I heard the maids gossiping after that ball. The court’s favourite fairytale, huh?”

Hyuna’s tone is sharper than his, though quieter. “You seemed… very convincing, out there.”

I glance between them. “Convincing?”

“You smiled at her,” Hyuna says, not meeting my eyes. “The same way you smile at us.”

Her words hang in the air like a blade.

“It was only for the court,” I reply carefully. “You know that.”

Hyunwoo scoffs, leaning back into the cushions, arms sprawled wide. “Do we? Because to me, it looked like you were playing the perfect prince to your perfect future wife.” His eyes narrow, amusement edged with something harsher. “Tell me, Luka… when the day comes, will you smile at her in private too?”

I want to laugh it off, but the weight in his gaze pins me still. Hyuna sets the water down with too much force; the glass clinks against the wood.

The silence stretches. Their jealousy is not loud, not spoken outright, but it presses against me from both sides. For the first time, I realize… it matters to them. It matters deeply.

“No,” I reply straight. “In all honesty, I despise her. And I don’t think that will change.”

“Even if you do get married?” Hyuna asks.

I can tell why she asks. She wants me to say yes, that it won’t change because I will never truly marry her, but I know better than to fight what the people and the court demand.

“Yes, it won’t change… even when I marry her.” The lack of an if makes it clear. I am marrying her, and there is no alternative.

They exchange a look.

Hyunwoo laughs, hollow and sharp at the edges, then rises, closing the distance between us until he stands over me. “So that’s it? You’ll marry someone you despise and smile through it like the good little prince they want?” His arms cross, gaze piercing. “Tell me, Luka. Does the court deserve that smile more than we do?”

Hyuna doesn’t stop him this time, though usually she would.

I shift uncomfortably on the bed, attempting to put some space between us, though it doesn’t get me far. “It isn’t about who deserves anything. It’s about survival.”

Hyunwoo leans forward, faces inches apart, voice low. “Survival looks an awful lot like surrender.”

The words cut deeper than I’d like to admit. Hyuna finally comes closer as well, looking down at me, gaze softer than his but no less piercing. “We don’t want to watch you surrender to them,” she says. “Not when we…” She stops, lips pressing tightly, but I can read the rest of her thought in her eyes.

The room feels too small. The three of us, tangled in this invisible thread of jealousy and longing.

“You’re not even going to lie to us? Saying that we deserve it more? Not even a little?” Hyunwoo asks, stepping back slightly.

I stay silent.

“Please, Luka. Just a soft word… for our peace of mind,” Hyuna whispers, almost pleading.

I take a deep breath before speaking. “You do. You do deserve it more. Because for you two, a smile is genuine. Effortless. Truthful.”

Those words, like my smile for them, are genuine.

Hyuna’s eyes soften, but there’s a sharp edge to them now, as if my words both satisfied and irritated her. She leans slightly closer, lowering her voice. “Effortless and truthful, huh? That’s a dangerous compliment coming from you, Luka.”

I tilt my head, pretending to look puzzled, though I can feel the flush creeping up my neck. “Dangerous? How so?”

Hyunwoo chuckles, low and teasing, circling around me like a predator testing its prey. “Because now she’s going to expect you to be that genuine with her. And we both know you’re known for mimicking and pretending, Prince.”

Hyuna crosses her arms, but the small smile tugging at her lips betrays her calm façade. “Don’t give him any ideas,” she says softly, almost a warning.

“I was being genuine," I manage to choke out despite the pressure that's being put onto my heart.

Hyunwoo leans closer again, their shared presence pressing in on me from both sides. “Careful, Luka. You’ve got a way of making words into promises. And promises… can be dangerous too.”

I glance from one to the other, the weight of their gazes heavy, almost intimate. The teasing is playful, yes, but the possessiveness beneath it is clear, undeniable.

Hyuna finally breaks, stepping closer to place a hand on my arm. “You don’t have to face this alone, Luka. Not Mizi, not the court, not anyone. We’re here.”

Her touch is light, yet it burns. The warmth radiates into my chest, mixing with the sting of Hyunwoo’s gaze. I realize then that the jealousy, the teasing, the possessiveness, they all exist because they care. Deeply. Fiercely.

I let out a quiet breath, more to myself than them. “I know,” I murmur.

Hyunwoo smirks, stepping back just slightly, though his tone softens, almost reluctant. “Good. Because if you ever thought you could face all of this without us… well, you’d be foolish.”

I let myself smile, small, careful, hiding the flutter in my chest. “Thank you, truly."

Hyuna and Hyunwoo exchange a look, fleeting but charged, like they silently acknowledge a truth we are all circling but never fully speak.

And in that quiet, heavy air of the chamber, I realize...this tension, this closeness, the teasing and jealousy. It’s more than companionship. It’s something delicate, fragile, and dangerously beautiful.

Notes:

Yes I'm going to be edging you with smut. Deal with it :)

Chapter 10: Perfect Engagement

Notes:

Happy Birthday Hyuna and Hyunwoo!!!!

I know it was yesterday but hey I'm trying :(

I'd just like to make a comment on Hyuna's birthday art, cause what the hell!!!

Like the rebellion made a memorial for her, its so sad, but at least she is remembered.

But Luka's birthday art....

He's just alone, looking at his cake all sad, unremembered, no feeling of celebration.

It's crazy how Hyuna, although dead, is remembered and honoured, while Luka whose alive is forgotten and alone.

MY SHAYLAS!!!!! T-T

ALSO WHY DOESNT VIVINOS ACKNOWLEDGE THAT ITS HYUNWOOS BIRTHDAY TO

The throne room was too grand for such a small gathering, so the King chose one of his private chambers instead. Heavy curtains shut out the light, and incense smoldered faintly from the brazier, filling the air with spice and smoke.

I stood beside my father, posture rigid, the polished marble floor cool beneath my shoes. Across from us, the door groaned open.

Duchess Shine glided in first, light as silk, her every step carrying a softness, a delicacy. Her daughter followed. Lady Mizi, pink hair catching the candlelight like rose quartz, her hands folded neatly at her waist. She looked like innocence wrapped in lace.

Hyuna and Hyunwoo flanked the chamber walls, guards in shadow, but I knew they were watching more than anyone else in the room.

“Your Majesty,” Shine greeted, voice lilting like a melody. She curtsied low. “We are most grateful for your invitation.”

Mizi mirrored the gesture with a perfect, practiced bow, her cheeks tinged with the faintest blush. When her eyes rose to meet mine, they were wide, unguarded. Too unguarded.

My father smiled, thin, approving. “Duchess Shine. Lady Mizi. It pleases me to see you both.”

I only inclined my head, the silence between us heavy. Already, I could feel the act beginning.

Mizi straightened, her hands clasped delicately in front of her. “Your Highness,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, like a secret meant only for me. “I must thank you again for the dance you gave me at the recent ball. You carried me so gracefully that I feared I would disappoint you.”

Her words fluttered in the air, light as feathers, but I caught the glint in her eyes, a flicker that didn’t match the softness of her tone.

“You did not disappoint,” I replied evenly, though my smile was thin, controlled.

“Oh,” she breathed, lowering her gaze as though shy, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. “You are far too kind. The court will say it was I who stole the evening, when truly… it was you.”

My father chuckled, pleased. “Lady Mizi speaks with sincerity. Such humility is rare.”

“Rare, indeed,” Shine echoed, her tone warm, mothering. Yet when her gaze touched me, I felt the sting behind it, the gentle pressure of expectation, dressed in silk.

From the corner of my eye, I caught Hyunwoo shifting against the wall, arms folded tight. Hyuna’s grip on her sword hilt flexed, too deliberate to be casual. They saw it too. Not the innocence, but the calculation.

And yet, to the King, to the court, to anyone else, Lady Mizi was flawless, just like they think I am.

Mizi curtsied low, her skirts flowing like liquid silk, before rising with the most delicate of smiles. “Your Highness, I must confess, I am still recovering from our dance. To keep pace with you is no small feat.”

The corners of my mouth curved, though the smile never reached my eyes. “Surely you jest, Lady Mizi. I would say it was I who struggled to keep up with you. The court hardly looked at me once you entered the floor.”

A faint laugh, airy, unthreatening, slipped from her lips. She tilted her head, pink hair falling innocently off her shoulders. “You flatter me far too much. If I stole any attention tonight, it was only because of the partner I was blessed to have.”

Father leaned forward in his chair, pleased, hands clasped over his knee. Duchess Shine mirrored him, her expression one of serene approval, though her eyes tracked every nuance between us like a needle stitching the seams of a garment.

We both knew what was happening. Every compliment, every polite word, was a weapon dressed as courtesy.

Mizi’s lashes fluttered, her gaze dropping with perfect modesty. “But of course, it is only right. The future king deserves a partner who will not falter beside him.”

“And the future princess deserves the same,” I returned smoothly, meeting her eyes with just enough intensity to make her pause.

Shine smiled, satisfied. My father exhaled, slow and proud, as though he had already sealed the engagement.

Yet underneath it all, the warmth of our tones, the softness of our smiles, there was nothing but venom. We were mirrors: flawless, practiced, and hollow.

Hyuna shifted subtly at my side, as though she could feel the sharp edges beneath our words. Hyunwoo’s jaw flexed, his gaze fixed not on Mizi but on me, as if daring me to admit aloud what this charade truly was.

Still, the game continued.

Mizi tilted her head, eyes shimmering with a softness that would disarm anyone less wary. “I imagine the court feels reassured, seeing us side by side. Stability is such a fragile thing, wouldn’t you agree, Your Highness?”

Her tone was honey, but her words sharp as a knife wrapped in silk.

Fragile?

I matched her smile. “Of course. The court loves symbols they can believe in, even if the substance behind them is… more complicated.”

Her lashes lowered, a demure blink. “Complicated? I wouldn’t dare suggest such a thing. A prince as flawless as you? Surely, it is only I who struggles with imperfection, I am only human after all.”

The jab landed cleanly. To anyone else, it was self-deprecation. To me, it was a reminder that she's something I'm not. Human.

I am human. I am.

I am human

Father chuckled, nodding approvingly. “So modest, Lady Mizi. Luka, you could stand to learn from such humility.”

Duchess Shine laughed lightly, her fingers brushing her daughter’s hand in silent praise.

Hyuna’s lips pressed into a thin line, her sharp eyes darting between us. She saw it. The performance. The poison beneath the lace. Hyunwoo leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, his gaze narrowed like he was watching a fight no one else noticed.

I inclined my head politely. “You do yourself a disservice, Lady Mizi. But perhaps that is your greatest talent. After all, the sweetest rose often hides the sharpest thorns.”

For a heartbeat, her innocent smile flickered, just a fraction too tight, too sharp. Then it returned, brighter than before. “And what is a rose without a hand brave enough to hold it, even knowing it will bleed?”

The air between us thickened. The parents smiled, pleased with our “harmony.”

But my guards saw the truth. This was not harmony. It was war.

Soon enough the discussions turn into talks of politics, drama, plans. It goes on for what feels like hours. I just smile through it all.

At last, Duchess Shine rises gracefully, her daughter following in perfect step. “It has been a pleasure, Your Majesty. And, of course, Prince Luka,” she said with a soft bow.

Mizi’s eyes met mine briefly, one last flash of triumph in their polished innocence, before she curtsied, delicate as ever. “I look forward to our next meeting, Your Highness.”

The doors closed behind them, leaving only silence in their wake. A silence that weighed heavier than their presence ever had.

Father exhaled through his nose, leaning back in his chair. “She’s remarkable, that girl,” he said. “Graceful. Intelligent. And, most importantly, willing.”

His gaze slid toward me, sharp and assessing. “Perhaps she might even make up for your… flaws.”

The word landed like a lash across my back.

I held his stare, though every muscle in me tensed. “Flaws, Father?”

“You’re clever, Luka,” he said, almost bored, as though it was a fact not worth debating. “But cleverness without discipline is dangerous. With each other, she could temper you. Shape you. Perhaps even save you from yourself.”

I forced myself to hold his stare, though every muscle in me tensed. “Save me, father?"

Heperu’s smile was thin, humourless. “Yes save you, Luka. Remember Lord Till? Or should I say ...just Till. Perhaps with Lady Mizi by your side, you’ll remain grounded enough not to meet his fate.”

"I assure you father, I have never once had his rebellious tendencies. Honestly it upsets me that you would even worry about me meeting his fate."

"I do not worry. You have done nothing but met my expectations...but I want you to wow me, not just do what's expected. You are getting married to Lady Mizi, you two will be perfection together. I've made up my mind. I'll make sure to make the engagement official." Father says firmly, leaving no room for argument... not that I would ever dare argue with him.

Hyuna stiffened beside me, her hands curling into fists at her side. Hyunwoo’s jaw flexed, his stare fixed firmly on the floor, no doubt to keep from glaring at father.

I knew this day would come, yet it almost angers me.

"Yes father."

Chapter 11: Real Human

Summary:

This is me making up for Hyuna and Hyunwoo birthday chapter cuz the last one didn't have them at all :(

So here you go, two chapters, one day.

Hyuna and Hyunwoo are staring at me like I’ve finally gone mad.
Maybe I have.
I haven’t said a word to them since the engagement party, not once.
I can’t.

Because I’m too busy staring at my hand.

A band of gold, tight around my fourth finger. Left hand.

Fourth finger.
Fourth.

Ten fingers in total.

Ten purple fingers.

Ten human fingers.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

Ten.

Human.

I am human.

I am human.

I feel happiness. Sadness. Pain.
That means I’m human.
Doesn’t it?

I feel pain.
I feel pain, right?

I have to.

I raise my hand, the one with the ring, and strike myself across the face.

A sting blossoms across my cheek, hot and sharp.

Human.

The word echoes, almost steadying. Almost.

I lift my hand again, needing to feel it again, but fingers clamp hard around my wrist.

“Luka! What are you doing?!” Hyuna’s voice shatters through me, urgent, panicked.

I stare at her, my voice trembling. “I am human.” It comes out more as a question than an answer.

“Of course you’re human! Why the hell wouldn’t you be?!” Her tone is fierce, but her eyes… her eyes are wide with fear. For me.

I look down again, at my fingers. Counting. Always counting.

Her breath hitches. Then something in her face shifts, understanding, maybe.

She takes my hand in both of hers. Steady, grounding, unyielding.

“Look,” she says, voice softening to something that sounds almost like a lullaby. “Ten fingers. See?” She counts each one slowly, deliberately, as if the act itself could stitch me back together.

Then she raises her hands and presses them against my hand and then interlocks her fingers with mine.

“And me too. Ten fingers. The same as you. That makes us both human.”

Her voice is calm now, gentle, carrying me out of the spiral.

“Ten,” I whisper, steadier.

“You want to count again?” she asks, patient.

I nod.

Together we count. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

Her eyes meet mine. Warm. Anchoring.

“Better now?” she asks softly.

“Yes,” I breathe. And this time, my smile is real, unguarded, almost childlike in its relief.

Her answering smile is just as real, soft and impossibly kind. For a moment, I feel something I thought I’d lost, safe.

Hyunwoo steps closer, his voice breaking the fragile stillness. “What was that about?”

“Sorry,” I murmur, trying for lightness. “It’s… habit.”

“Habit?” He frowns. “No one makes a habit of doubting if they’re human, Luka.”

I can’t look at him. My gaze drops.

“Seriously,” Hyuna says gently, “you can tell us. Whatever it is, you can tell us.”

“My father didn’t tell you?” My voice is barely a whisper.

“Tell us what?” she presses.

The words claw out of me. “That I’m… not human.”

Silence crashes heavy after my words.
Not human.

Hyunwoo blinks like he’s misheard. His mouth opens, then closes, fists tightening at his sides.
Hyuna doesn’t move, her hand is still wrapped around mine, holding, refusing to let go.

“I wasn't born, I was… made.”

Their eyes widen, but I press on before they can speak.

“My father, Heperu, he didn’t want a son. He wanted a symbol. A flawless prince. The perfect heir.” I spit the word perfect like poison. “So he built one. Me.”

My voice cracks.

“I was designed in a lab, pieced together like marble carved into shape. Every piece of DNA altered and fabricated. And all of it, every inch of me, everything about me, is purely his design.” I dig my nails into my palm, the ring biting against skin.

Hyunwoo’s voice breaks through, sharp, disbelieving. “That’s… insane. You’re not— you can’t just be—”

“I’m not real, Hyunwoo!” I snap, louder than I mean to. The words taste like blood. “I’m not real, and I’ve known it my whole life.”

Hyunwoo freezes, stunned, but Hyuna only tightens her grip, her thumb stroking the back of my hand like I might shatter if she lets go.

“Luka,” she whispers, voice trembling but steady, “you feel. You laugh, you hurt, you care. That is real. That is human.”

I shake my head. “How do I know if I do. What if I do those things just to make me seem more human. How do I know if those human things I do aren't just because father built me this way. How do I really know that I am human?"

For a heartbeat, silence. Then Hyuna leans in, eyes locked on mine. “Then let me tell you. What I see when I look at you isn’t a design. It’s you. The one who just spiralled over his own fingers. The one who smiled at me like he meant it. The one who’s terrified enough to tell us the truth right now. That’s not manufactured. That’s you. Think about it, your father could never design someone as complicated as you. Sure he picked out some traits, but the rest of it is you. What your feeling right now, is human."

My chest aches, tight and unfamiliar. Relief, maybe. Or something dangerously close to it.

Hyunwoo shifts, his voice quieter this time. “If your father made you to be perfect… he failed. Because the Luka sitting in front of me is flawed. He doubts, he bleeds, he—” he exhales sharply, “he’s human.”

The word lingers in the air like a lifeline.

I've never associated being flawed as a good thing, but those words are exactly what I needed to hear.

For the first time in years, I don’t feel entirely hollow.

For the first time, I think I'm sure that I am human.

Hyuna doesn’t let go of my hand. She just keeps holding me, like I might fall apart if she lets go... which I might.

Her thumb moves in slow, steady circles on the back of my hand, grounding me. It’s such a small gesture, yet it feels like the only thing keeping me from breaking apart completely.

I stare at her face, every detail burned into me: the softness of her mouth, the faint crease between her brows showing concern, the way her lashes tremble but never fall. She’s not recoiling. She’s not disgusted. She’s looking at me like...like I’m human.

Something inside me twists. It should be relief. But it isn’t. It’s hunger.

I want that look. I need that look.

And then Hyunwoo. His jaw is tight, his expression sharp, but he’s still here. Still close. He hasn’t left, hasn’t called me a fraud, hasn’t walked out and shut the door behind him. His presence fills the room like almost as if he's protecting me from the outside world. Like he's providing shelter. His voice echoes in my head, steady, unwavering.

I feel the air rushing in too fast, like I can’t breathe.

I should feel lighter, but instead I feel… desperate.

Because they’ve seen me. The part no one is supposed to see. And they didn’t leave. They chose to stay.

My grip tightens around Hyuna’s hand. Too tight, maybe, but I can’t let go.

Her eyes widen slightly at the pressure, but she doesn’t pull away. She never pulls away.

“Don’t—” My voice cracks. I don’t care. “Don’t let go.”

Her lips part. “I won’t.”

I believe her. God, I believe her too much.

The world tilts. It locks into place, terrifying and certain. I can’t lose this. I won’t lose this. Not them. Not ever.

Hyunwoo steps closer, his hand brushing against my hair slightly, a gentle loving act. “You’re ours, Luka. Human or not. Do you understand that?”

My chest aches. Ours.

Something in me burns alive. Something dangerous, obsessive, impossible to quiet.

I lift my gaze between them, Hyuna’s steady warmth, Hyunwoo’s fierce loyalty, and I know.

That they're mine.

That I love them.

Their smiles undo me. Their hands steady me. In their eyes, I see a version of myself that is real, human, wanted. I should feel content. But instead, I feel hungry. I want more. I want them closer, always closer. If they left, if they looked away...NO! I can’t even imagine it. I need them. More than air. More than anything.

Notes:

Fun fact: Luka canonly hits himself to remind himself that he is human :)

Source: It's in an unrealised comic, you can find in the the depths of the internet, or just look at this video --> https://www.tiktok.com/@freakitoya/video/7479376372075416854

Chapter 12: Scissors, Paper, Rock

Hyuna can’t take three steps without me following.
I don’t mean to. Not really. But my body moves before my mind catches up, like I've been leashed to her heels.

When Hyuna pauses in the corridor to exchange a word with a servant, I’m already there, close enough that the lace at her cuff brushes against my sleeve. When she kneels to adjust the straps of her boots, I stop in my tracks, watching as he fixes them, like its the most impressive thing in the world.

It’s absurd, I know. I’m a prince, the heir, I should be walking with dignity. But instead I'm trailing after my guard like a child refusing to let go of his mother’s skirts. But I can’t seem to help it. I don’t want to stop. But I don’t care. I don’t want to.

“Luka,” Hyunwoo says finally, his voice low but firm, warning carried in it. His sharp eyes flick to where I’m nearly brushing shoulders with Hyuna. “You’re hovering.”

“I’m not,” I answer too quickly, too defensive, even though I am. My shoulder nearly brushes Hyuna’s. I can’t seem to stop myself.

Hyuna glances up at me, her a slight smile on her face. Not annoyance. Not yet. More like she thinks the behaviour is sort of cute.

"Don't you have princely duties to attend to?" Hyunwoo raises and eyebrow.

“I do! I just…” My voice falters. “I like being here.”

“Here?” she echoes.

“With both of you.” The words slip before I can cage them.

Hyunwoo exhales like he’s carrying the patience of ten men, then he smirks slightly. “You’re supposed to lead, Luka, not trail after your guards like a lost pup.”

“I’m not a pup,” I mutter, though my chest feels warm and raw because maybe I am. Maybe I’d happily be one, if it meant I could stay tethered to them like this.

"Whatever you say pup," Hyunwoo teases, ruffling my hair.

I blush.

Hyuna looks ahead, and for a terrifying second, I think she’ll step away, that she’ll peel me off like I’m something clinging and pitiful. Instead, she adjusts her glove and says gently, “Then walk with us, not behind.”

I don't hesitate, I fall into step between them like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Like I belong there.

Hyuna reaches out as we walk, taking my hand in hers.

***

Later that night, in my chambers, the three of us fall into our usual rhythm. Hyuna is at the desk, her movements precise as she sorts through reports. Hyunwoo is sprawled across the couch, effortless, untouchable.

And me?

I should be at the table, reading, writing, doing anything that belongs to a prince.

Instead, I linger near him, hands clasped in front of me, restless, waiting like a child afraid to ask for permission.

Hyunwoo’s eyes flick to me. “What’s wrong, Luka?”

I could say anything, but the words die in my throat. My cheeks burn, and I look away.

“Does my little pup want attention?” His voice is teasing, warm.

I flush deeper.

He shifts, patting the soft spot beside him. I move too fast, too eager, sliding onto the couch.

I rest my head against his shoulder, lightly at first, then with more certainty. His chest rises and falls beneath my cheek, steady, grounding, claiming me in a way words never could.

He doesn’t push me away. He lets me. I allow a small, satisfied smile to touch my lips.

He shifts again, reaching for a cup on the table. “Luka,” he says flatly, “you weigh more than you look.”

“I don’t care,” I murmur, wrapping my arms tighter around him, pressing closer. “You’re comfortable.”

He exhales, a sound that’s part exasperation, part… something I can’t name. “I’m not your pillow.”

“Yes, you are.”

Hyuna glances over her shoulder, a faint, amused smile teasing her lips. She says nothing, doesn’t interrupt.

Her silence only sharpens the tension.

“Luka, seriously. I’m tired. Let me lie down at least,” Hyunwoo says, a hint of laughter in his voice.

I shift just enough to let him settle, but I don’t pull away. As soon as he lies down, I curl beside him, close, dangerously close.

“There’s barely any space on this sofa for two adult men,” he teases.

“Then lay on my bed with me instead,” I murmur before thinking, the words slipping out, unguarded.

“You should really think twice before saying such suggestive things, prince,” Hyuna laughs softly from her corner.

I burn, but instead of retreating, I nuzzle closer to him, pressing closer, anchoring myself, claiming the space I need, silent and unyielding.

I’m curled up against him, Hyunwoo’s warmth seeping into me. He shifts just slightly and tilts my head up to look at him. “Luka… do you want a kiss?” His voice is soft, teasing, almost hesitant, like he’s testing me.

I freeze. My heart spikes, but my mind rebels. I don’t want to give my first kiss to just one of them. Not Hyunwoo alone, not Hyuna alone. I want both. Somehow, impossibly, I want both.

I blink at him, uncertain. “I… I can’t… not yet,” I admit, voice small.

Hyunwoo frowns, playful frustration tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Why not? I’m right here and I can see it on your face that you want to.”

I shake my head, cheeks burning hotter than ever. Hyuna glances over her shoulder from the desk, a curious, knowing smile teasing at her lips. She’s watching, silent but very much present.

"I don't want just one of you to have my first kiss. I want both of you to have it" I admit.

I swallow hard. Then an idea flares, ridiculous and perfect. “Okay,” I murmur. “Scissors… paper… rock for it?”

Hyunwoo’s eyebrows lift. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me,” I say, curling my fingers into fists. “Winner… gets the first kiss.”

Hyuna laughs, that soft, melodic sound that makes my chest tighten. She moves closer anyway, crouching slightly beside the couch. “You're so cute prince” she says.

They both position their hands: scissors, paper, rock. My stomach twists with nerves and excitement.

I glance down at their hands. Hyunwoo’s scissors cut Hyuna's paper. Hyunwoo wins.

Hyunwoo tilts my chin up, his thumb brushing along the line of my jaw. His touch is rougher than it should be, but it steadies me. My breath catches, trapped in my chest.

“See? I won,” he murmurs, his voice low, warm against my skin.

I can’t even answer. My lips part soundlessly, and then his are on mine. Not forceful, not claiming , but steady, deliberate. His lips move against mine with a patience that unravels me. The couch, the room, the air, it all disappears until there’s only the press of his mouth and the steady thrum of his heart beneath my palm.

When he pulls back, I chase after the touch before I can stop myself, my chest aching with how much I want more.

Before the loss can settle, Hyuna is there, kneeling beside me. Her fingers graze my cheek, softer than silk, tilting my face toward her. Her breath brushes against me, feather-light, carrying the faintest hint of lavender from her gloves.

“Now me, prince?” she whispers. Her voice is a velvet thread wrapping around my ribs.

I nod, helpless.

Her lips meet mine, different from Hyunwoo’s, not steady, but searching. Curious. Sweet. She lingers, her thumb stroking against my cheek as if she’s memorizing me. And I let her. I let both of them.

When she pulls away, I’m left trembling, my lips tingling. My chest heaves with a laugh I can’t contain, shaky and breathless.

Mine. Both of them.

Not one. Not either. Both. Always.

Chapter 13: The Father’s Warning

The summons comes late. Too late for comfort. The torches in the hall burn low, their light stretched thin across stone. My father waits in his solar, seated at the head of the long table like he is carved into it, eternal, immovable.

“Sit,” he says. Not a request.

I obey.

He glances at Hyuna and Hyunwoo, who are both beside me.

"You two. Privacy." He says, the words short yet demanding.

They glance at each other, but without a word, turn and leave.

Father studies me in silence, his ringed fingers steepled beneath his chin. The weight of his gaze makes my throat dry.

“I hear from the servants' gossip,” he begins finally, voice calm as water over stone, “that you’ve made a habit of shadowing your guards. Clinging to them like a child afraid of the dark.”

My chest tightens. “I—”

“You trail after them in corridors. You lounge in their company as though they were companions of equal rank. You allow them liberties unbecoming of their station.” His eyes narrow, sharp and gleaming. “Tell me, Luka. Do you think this behaviour befitting of a crown prince?”

I bite my lip, heat rising in my face. “They’re not just my guards,” I mutter. “They’re—”

“They are nothing.” His voice cuts, clean and merciless. “Strays. Outcasts. Do you know what they were before they came here?”

My breath stutters. “They’re knights of Heperu. Sworn to me.”

“Sworn because I demanded it. Because they had no choice. They were a last resort, your only option after the others betrayed you. Do not mistake scraps for treasure.” His tone is measured, deliberate, every word a hammer blow. “You know nothing of their origin, their reputation. And yet you cling so close to them, when you should be clinging to nobles like Lady Mizi, Lady Sua, or Lord Ivan.”

I freeze. “What do you mean, Father? I do not think they have a bad origin or reputation.”

“They were nobles. Once. And yet they fell from grace.”

The words slam into me. Nobles? Fallen from grace?

“They rebelled against their station, against their society. Much like that rat Till, they spat on their own bloodlines. Their rebellion failed. They were stripped of name and home. Cast out.” His lips curl faintly. “They crawled here, begging at my gates for refuge.”

“No,” I whisper.

I don’t believe it. I won’t. I will not compare them to that lowly Till, the bastard child of a servant woman named Io, who betrayed his father, Lord Urak, and dragged his house into shame. No. I refuse to even let Hyuna and Hyunwoo’s names be uttered alongside his.

“Yes.” My father leans forward, eyes gleaming like a blade’s edge. “And I, in my mercy, allowed them to remain, on one condition. That they serve you. Protect you. Nothing more. Their loyalty is not devotion, Luka. It is survival. They already betrayed one crown. What stops them from betraying another? From betraying you?”

Something hot and raw tears through me. Fury. Fear. A desperate, clawing need to defend what is mine.

“They wouldn’t,” I say, though my voice shakes. “Hyuna and Hyunwoo are...different. They’re not here because they have to be. They’re here because—because—”

The King smiles thinly, cruelly. “How disappointing. Did I not teach you to master your emotions? And here you sit, face crumpled over two lowly strays. Pathetic.” His voice sharpens, venomous. “Fix your expression, unless you want something real to cry about.”

I flinch.

“This is exactly why you must wed Mizi, and soon. So those guards no longer hold sway over you. You need someone of your own rank to cling to, not slaves dressed in steel.”

He’s right.
I don’t know why I’m crying.

I know my father. He delights in my expressionless, dull face. He loves seeing me broken, emotionless like a machine. A vessel, not a person. My duty is to the crown, to the nobles, to the kingdom. People betray me all the time. That is the way of court. Faces painted with loyalty, hands always ready to knife the back that trusts them. I have always known this. I have always chosen, discarded, aligned, sacrificed. Even my soon-to-be marriage with Lady Mizi is a calculation, a necessity.

And yet…

My gaze falls to the engagement ring on my finger. A shackle of gold.

No.
No.

I am better than this. I must be.

I am flawless, a perfect creation. I owe my existence to my father, every word, every movement, every expressionless mask I wear. I am nothing but his creation, nothing but a product sculpted to serve, to wear the skin others wish me to wear.

If I am told to let go of my guards… then I must.
Even if something inside me claws against it.

I take a deep breath, wipe my tears away, and force my spine straight. The mask settles back over me, heavy but unbreakable.

“Ata boy,” Heperu says, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Now go. I do not want to hear another whisper about you and your guards again.”

It is more than a command. It is a warning. I know what punishments wait should even the faintest trace of gossip reach him again.

I rise, silent, and move toward the door.

On the other side Hyuna and Hyunwoo stand waiting. I just walk past them, expecting them to fall into line behind me, not even glancing in their direction.

Not even acknowledging their presence.

As a prince should.

Notes:

I'm sorry guys :(

I promise I held your hand during this

Progress is never linear. Just remember that.

Chapter 14: The Silence of a Prince

The corridors feel colder tonight.
Or maybe it’s only me.

My footsteps echo faintly against the marble, steady, deliberate, the way I was taught. A prince does not falter. A prince does not linger. I repeat the words like prayer, though they taste like ashes in my mouth.

Hyunwoo walks just behind me. His presence presses close, protective, suffocating.
“You’re quieter than usual,” he says, voice low, cautious.

I keep my eyes ahead. My throat burns with words I can’t afford. “A prince should be quiet.”

A pause. “Since when?”

Since Father decided. Since Father reminded me that silence what he wants. That speech is weakness.
They will betray you too. They already betrayed one crown. What stops them from betraying another?

It's like I can hear father's voice in my head.

I say nothing.

From the other side, Hyuna’s voice threads through the silence. “Something happened. After you spoke with King Heperu.”

Her knowingness cuts too close. I want to stop, to turn and grab her hand, to confess that I am drowning in my father’s voice. But Father himself answers for me.
They wear loyalty like a mask. They do not love you. They cannot.

“There is nothing to say,” I force out.

The quiet after that is heavier than chains.

***

Later, in my chambers, the twins remain. They always remain.

Hyunwoo leans against the doorframe, his arms folded tight. Watching. Measuring. Hyuna stays near me, her steps restless, her eyes searching my face like she can peel away the mask.

I sit on the bed’s edge, too straight, too still. Like a doll set in place.

And then, because the silence feels unbearable, I test them.
“Do you regret it?”

Hyunwoo tilts his head. “Regret what?”

“Leaving your land. Leaving nobility.” My voice is too calm, too distant. “Your exile.”

They exchange that glance again, quick, subtle, a language only they share.

Hyunwoo answers cautiously, “Why are you asking?”

“Because,” I say, my voice tight, “a prince should know his knights.”

Hyuna takes a step forward. “That’s not what this is. Luka… what are you really asking?”

Her words lance through me. I feel my control slipping, just for a heartbeat. My hand twitches where it rests in my lap. I almost reach for hers. Almost.

But Father is there again, whispering, cruel and steady.
Cling, and you will be abandoned. Love, and you will be betrayed.

My hand curls into a fist instead. “It is about nothing. Forget it.”

The way her eyes dim, it nearly undoes me.

Hyunwoo’s voice sharpens. “Something’s wrong with you. You’re different today.”

He’s right. And for a moment, my mask cracks. The words almost tumble out. I’m afraid. I don’t know who I am if I’m not theirs.

Please...don’t leave me.

But I swallow it down, the way I’ve been taught. “A prince should change. For his kingdom.”

Their silence this time is worse than their questions.

When they finally leave me for the night, I lie flat beneath the canopy. My body is rigid, but inside, I am trembling.

I imagine Hyunwoo’s arms braced around me, solid, unyielding. I imagine Hyuna’s hand, soft and sure against mine. If I reached out...if I asked...they would not refuse me.

For half a breath, I almost believe I will do it. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I’ll let myself choose them.

Please, I want them. I need them.

But Father’s voice threads through the dark, steady, eternal.
You are mine. I made you. Your not theirs. Mine.

The thought of it shatters me. And so I remain still, expressionless, flawless.

A perfect creation.
A perfect lie.

Chapter 15: The Betrothal Announced

Notes:

Guys I know some of you are here waiting for Luka to be sandwiched.

I promise, soon.

Also please check out my new IvanTill fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70578596

The great hall blazes with light, as if Father ordered the chandeliers to burn hotter tonight just to make me sweat. The stone walls gleam, banners hang crisp and straight, and every noble pair of eyes pins me in place.

I stand beside Lady Mizi, our hands linked for all to see. She’s perfect, the model bride, lips curved into a serene smile, gown shimmering in silver-blue. I match her pose with my own, chin lifted, shoulders squared.

A flawless prince.

Father’s voice booms across the chamber. “Tonight, we secure the future of the kingdom. Tonight, we announce the union of Crown Prince Luka and Lady Mizi.”

Applause erupts, crashing against me like waves.

Mizi’s hand rests light in mine. She tilts her head, smiling up at me with such convincing tenderness it almost fools me. Almost.

From the edge of the dais, Hyuna and Hyunwoo stand in their appointed place, shadows carved from steel. Hyuna’s face is unreadable, but I catch the flick of her eyes, sharp and worried. Hyunwoo doesn’t bother hiding his scowl. His jaw is set so tight I think his teeth might crack.

My pulse pounds. The applause swells. And I remind myself to keep breathing, keep smiling, keep being the perfect heir Father demands.

Inside, something withers.

***

Later, when the ceremony is done, I retreat to my chambers. Mizi follows, as protocol demands, though her steps are quieter than expected, less triumphant than they should be.

“You played your part well,” she says, almost absently. Her eyes don’t quite meet mine. They flick instead to the window, to the moon beyond the glass, and for a fleeting instant, I think I see something restless in her expression. Longing, perhaps.

“Thank you,” I reply, voice flat. Hollow.

Before either of us can say more, Hyunwoo cuts in from the doorway. “You looked miserable out there.”

“Hyunwoo,” Hyuna hisses, but he doesn’t back down. His eyes burn into me, fierce and unyielding. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you want this marriage.”

I look at him, at both of them, my anchor, my torment, and the words almost come. I don’t want her. I only want you.

But Father’s voice lingers in my head, cruel and steady. A prince does not cling to strays.

“I want what my kingdom needs,” I say instead, each syllable precise, cold.

Hyunwoo’s mouth hardens into a line. He turns away, muttering something under his breath that sounds a lot like a curse. Hyuna’s gaze lingers on me longer, softer, full of worry that she doesn’t voice.

"We'll leave you two to it. Sorry for my brother's rudeness Lady Mizi," Hyuna bows.

When they leave, I almost call them back. Almost.

Please don't leave. I want you, only you.

Instead, I turn and find Mizi still at the window, her reflection trembling faintly in the glass. For a moment, she looks less like a bride and more like a prisoner.

Her fingers press absently against the sill, the gem on her ring catching the torchlight with a dull glint. “Funny,” she murmurs, almost to herself, “how much of our lives are decided before we even have the chance to choose.”

I freeze. The words echo too closely against my own thoughts.

When she turns back, her smile is perfect again. Smooth, polished. The smile of a noble lady. A mask.

But as she crosses the room, I catch a flicker beneath it, weariness, longing, something almost like my own reflection staring back at me. She rests a hand lightly on my shoulder, a gesture so uncharacteristically gentle I nearly flinch.

“Stop pretending to be so righteous,” she whispers, her voice carrying a tired weight. “Neither you nor I deserve nobility.”

Then she’s gone, skirt brushing the floor as she leaves me behind, confused, unsettled, and turning her words over and over like a blade in my chest.

Why did she say that like it were her last words to me?

Chapter 16: The Crown’s Chains

The night air is cold when I slip onto the balcony, the weight of my crown pressing heavier than the chill ever could. I tell myself I came here for the silence, but I know better.

Because the silence doesn’t last.

“Luka.”

Her voice. Gentle, questioning. Hyuna steps into the moonlight, her eyes carrying that soft defiance that undoes me. Hyunwoo follows just behind, his shadow long and steady, always close enough to catch me if I fall.

I grip the railing tighter, knuckles paling, heart thudding against my ribs. Don’t let them close. Don’t let them close.

And yet—

Hyuna moves nearer, her hand grazes mine, barely there, a ghost of a touch, but my body betrays me. I lean toward it, desperate, greedy. My chest burns with the need to just hold onto her hand, to anchor myself in her warmth.

“If I hear anything about those twins again—”

The echo of my father’s voice coils tight around my ribs. My heart stutters. I yank my hand back so fast the moment shatters, and her fingers hang in the air, empty.

“You’ve been different.” Hyunwoo’s tone is measured, but I know him well enough to hear the weight beneath it. Concern. Frustration. Hurt.

Hyuna tilts her head, her eyes searching me. “Luka… did we do something wrong?”

“No.” The word slices out too sharp, too cold. “You didn’t do anything.”

Hyunwoo steps forward, his presence filling the space between us. He looks at me as though sheer willpower could tear through my mask, strip me bare. “Then why? Why do you keep pushing us away? Are we not good enough anymore?”

The words land like blades. My throat tightens. I want to scream that they are everything, that I wake with their names on my lips, that every heartbeat aches for them.

Instead, I whisper, broken, “You’re more than enough.”

Their eyes widen, catching the truth bleeding through my lie.

“Then why, Luka—” Hyuna steps closer. Her breath brushes my cheek. My lips part, unsteady, drawn to hers like a moth to flame. Just one more inch—just one more—

I want to close the distance between us.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair.

One kiss isn’t enough.

I need hundreds, thousands. Unlimited kisses. Unlimited love.

I think I must have been staring at her lips, because she suddenly smiles.

God, her smile.

And she leans in.

We are only millimetres apart when I turn my head away.

Hyuna flinches, shocked, and pulls back without a word.

Her face falls. Hyunwoo’s jaw tightens, his fists curling. The silence is deafening.

I press a hand to my heart, as if I can cage the wild thing thrashing inside. Yearning, desperate, starved. My body leans toward them even as my words shove them away.

I want to kiss them. To touch them. To love them.

But all I can do is ache.

Please. I want them so bad.

Hyunwoo suddenly snaps.
“You wanted that kiss. I saw it. Yet you turned away. What the fuck is going on with you, Luka? Is it because you’re marrying Mizi? You’re marrying her, so you’re forcing yourself to forget about us?” His voice quiets, almost breaking. “We know you love us… please don’t force distance between us.”

“I-it’s not that. I don’t care for Mizi… it’s not the marriage, it’s just—” I stop myself.

They glance at each other, noticing the hesitation.

“Is someone forcing you into not saying something?” Hyuna’s voice is soft but sharp, cutting straight through me.

Hyuna’s always been observant. Too observant. I can never hide from her. From them.

I don’t reply. The silence stretches, but it tells Hyuna everything.

“It’s your father, isn’t it?” Her voice rises, shaking with fury. “He said something to you.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. I just… I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Hyunwoo spits. “Choose us over being an obedient son? Or can’t stop yourself from submitting to your father and a role you don’t even want?”

The venom in his words makes me flinch. Too deep. Too personal. Too true.

Hyuna doesn’t stop him. Doesn’t apologise for her brother's words. I guess that means she agrees.

And he’s right. But I can’t change myself. I can’t rip the chains out of my own blood.

I can't condition myself out of something that's been constantly shoved down my throat.

“Can you just… leave me alone. Please.” I try to sound commanding, princely. But it comes out like a plea.

Hyunwoo scoffs, bitter and wounded, and turns away.

Hyuna lingers, her eyes locking with mine for a moment that sears. Then she, too, leaves.

And I am left on the balcony, heart splitting open in the dark.

Please don’t leave.

Chapter 17: Alone on the Stage

Notes:

So sad how in the OG Luka is still left preforming on the god for saken stage.

Like let me man leave.

Let him "live with love" like Hyuna told him too.

Please Vivinos let my poor man OUT!!!

The palace hums like a hive. Servants sweep through the halls, their arms heavy with silks and ribbons. Laughter and whispers lace the air, nobles rehearsing their roles for the spectacle tomorrow is meant to be.

My wedding.

I walk through it all like a ghost dressed in flesh. I nod when spoken to. I smile when expected. Every word, every gesture feels practiced, rehearsed. The crown weighs like iron on my head.

For the first time, I think I understand.

It isn’t a crown at all. It’s a costume piece.

And I am the performer forced to wear it.

The castle walls bubble with excitement and preparations.

Happiness and celebration.

And I appear the same, though inside I'm the opposite.

I don't realise when it happens. I guess I was too caught up in sorrow to notice the shift.

But suddenly the place doesn't seem so bright.

There's whispers, a dread quietly spreading around.

I don't quite understand why.

The news comes in pieces. A servant’s trembling lips. A noble’s scoff.

But then it all makes sense with my father’s roar echoing down the marble halls.

Lady Mizi is gone.

So is Lady Sua.

They ran away in the name of love.

I freeze. My chest stutters, relief rushing sharp and hot through me. The marriage is off. I am free.

But the relief lasts only a breath before the truth sinks its teeth in.

Mizi didn’t just run from me. She ran from this place. From the mask. From the stage. She chose her love, her freedom, her life.

And Sua chose her.

I see her face in my mind, Mizi, smiling that polished noble smile that never quite reached her eyes. And then I hear her words, her voice low and trembling that night: Stop pretending to be so righteous. Neither you or I deserve nobility.

I thought it was bitterness. Now I see it for what it was. A farewell.

The court is in uproar, nobles fuming about disgrace, betrayal, scandal. But I—
I feel something else entirely.

Jealousy.

Envy so sharp it burns my throat.

Because she did it. She escaped.

Not long after, another rumour finds me.

Apparently it had been bubbling undercover for a few weeks, but I was just too caught up in marriage preparations to notice.

Lord Ivan is gone as well. He has been for a while. Slipped away under cover of night. No destination, no explanation. Just… vanished.

Till before him. Mizi. Sua. Ivan. One by one, they’ve all left the stage. This goddamn stage which is nobility.

And me?

I stand in the ballroom that was meant to be my wedding hall. Gilded chandeliers glint above like stage lights, casting me in their glow.

Rows of empty seats stare back at me, vacant, waiting, endless.

Everyone has left the performance. Everyone but me.

This performance that I once owned. That I was once the ruler of, that I once enjoyed being apart of… is now my own prison

The place doesn't seem so lively anymore. It seems empty...lonely.

My chest aches, my heart thrashes, whispering the names of the only people who make me feel alive, Hyuna, Hyunwoo. My body longs to turn toward them, to choose them, to flee with them into the night.

But then comes my father’s voice, cold and certain, echoing like a script carved into my bones: If I see you reach for them again, you will regret it.

I take a shuddering breath, my mask slipping back into place. My lips curve into the smile the court demands.

Mizi escaped. Sua escaped. Ivan escaped. Till escaped.

And I—

I am the only one left standing on this stage.
Still performing.
Still wearing the mask.

Chapter 18: Broken Shackles

Notes:

If your name starts with and S and ends in and E and you know me irl.

You know who you are.

DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER. IT IS NOT FOR YOU.

This is your warning.

The hall is silent.
The flowers are wilting, their petals crushed beneath abandoned footsteps. Rows of seats sit empty, as though the ghosts of the ceremony still linger, waiting for the play to resume. But there is no play. No audience. No bride.

Only me.

The crown feels heavier than it ever has, pressing down like a shackle. My reflection in the polished marble floor stares back at me, a prince, a puppet, a hollow mask still left standing when the curtain should’ve fallen.

Everyone else left.
Mizi, Ivan, even Sua, they chose freedom. They tore off their masks and walked away.
And here I am.
The last one on the stage.

My chest aches, the silence unbearable. And then—

The doors creak open.

I turn, and there they are. Hyuna. Hyunwoo. Moonlight spills across them, haloing their figures in silver. They don’t look at me like courtiers or subjects. They look at me like they always have, like Luka, not the prince.

Something inside me breaks.

I don’t walk. I run. My steps echo sharp against the marble, heart slamming against my ribs. When I reach them, words tumble out before I can stop them, raw and shaking:

“I can’t— I can’t do this anymore. Not without you. Not when you’re right here and I’ve spent every day pretending I don’t want you.”

Hyuna’s eyes widen, a sharp inhale escaping her lips. Hyunwoo stills, his jaw tight, but his gaze burns into mine, waiting, needing, to hear the rest.

“I tried,” I choke, my voice fraying. “I tried to be the son he wanted, the prince this kingdom wanted. I tried to lock you out, to convince myself it was the right thing. But gods, I can’t. I can’t stop loving you.”

Silence. Only the sound of my breathing, ragged and desperate.

Then Hyuna moves first. She lifts a trembling hand, her fingertips brushing my cheek. I lean into it without thinking, starved, like I’ve been waiting my entire life for this one touch.

Hyunwoo steps closer, his presence solid at my back, his hand grazing mine, steadying me. I clutch it greedily, needing both of them, needing everything.

“I thought…” Hyunwoo whispers, his voice low and raw, “…that you’d already chosen the crown over us.”

I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes. “No. I’m done choosing the crown. I choose you. Both of you.”

The weight of the words hangs between us, heavy and electric.

Hyuna leans in, her forehead pressing against mine. Her breath fans over my lips, so close I can taste the possibility of her kiss. Hyunwoo’s hand slides to my shoulder, grounding, possessive, aching.

The three of us stand there, a tangled knot of need and hesitation.

My lips part. Hers do too. We hover, trembling, breaths mingling, the distance between us a knife’s edge. My pulse hammers, my body screaming to close the gap, to surrender, to finally have what I’ve been denied.

Hyunwoo leans in from behind, his warmth pressing against me, his breath ghosting my ear. “Then stop running from us.”

I shudder, caught between them, drowning in the weight of what I want.

I tilt forward, the distance crumbling—

And the dam breaks.

Hyuna’s lips crash into mine, desperate and trembling, like she’s been waiting just as long as I have. The kiss is soft and rough all at once, sweetness wrapped around hunger. I clutch her waist, pulling her against me, afraid that if I let go, she’ll vanish.

Then Hyunwoo is there. His hand cups the back of my neck, steady, grounding, before pulling me into another kiss, his mouth firm, claiming, tasting of everything I’ve denied myself. My body shakes, caught between them, my heart thundering as if it might rip free from my chest.

I can’t breathe. I don’t want to.

Hyuna’s fingers tangle in my hair, tugging me back to her, while Hyunwoo presses close from behind, his chest against my back, heat searing through the layers of fabric that suddenly feel unbearable.

“Gods,” I gasp between kisses, “I’ve wanted this—wanted you—”

Hyunwoo murmurs against my ear, voice low, possessive: “Then stop holding back.”

My hands roam without thought, memorising the curves of Hyuna’s body, the strength of Hyunwoo’s shoulders. Their hands are everywhere, on my chest, my arms, my waist, each touch sparking fire across my skin. It’s overwhelming. It’s everything.

We stumble, tangled, through the hallways. I don’t even know who’s pulling who anymore, Hyuna’s laughter breaking through her tears, Hyunwoo’s grip never once letting me falter. We crash through the doorway to my chambers, breathless, still kissing, still touching like we’ve been starved for years.

Hyuna pushes me back onto the bed, her lips swollen, her eyes blazing. Hyunwoo joins her, his hand finding mine, threading our fingers together as if to remind me I’m not dreaming.

I lie there, staring up at them, Hyuna’s flushed cheeks, Hyunwoo’s steady fire, and I realise: I’m not on the stage anymore. This is real. This is mine.

They climb onto the bed, one on each side, hemming me in, their touches reverent, trembling, hungry. Hyuna presses kisses along my jaw, my neck, while Hyunwoo’s hand drags slowly down my chest, burning a trail through the thin fabric.

I gasp, clutching at both of them, my heart in my throat.

And for the first time, I let myself surrender.

Hyunwoo leans down, his lips grazing mine again before pulling away just enough to murmur, “Let us have you, Luka. No more walls.” His voice is low, rough with need, and I shudder.

I can’t say no. Not when Hyuna’s fingers are already trailing beneath the collar of my shirt, not when Hyunwoo’s steady hands are undoing the buttons with agonising patience. Piece by piece, the barriers I’ve hidden behind fall away.

My shirt slips open, their eyes on me like fire. Hyuna presses her mouth to my collarbone, leaving a trail of desperate kisses, while Hyunwoo’s hands stroke down my arms, his touch grounding me even as it sets me aflame.

I reach for them in turn, Hyuna’s waist beneath her soft clothing, Hyunwoo’s jaw, solid and warm under my palm. I want to touch everything, all at once, like I’ll never get another chance.

The bed creaks beneath us as we shift, tangled limbs and ragged breaths filling the room. Hyunwoo shrugs off his outer layers, his shirt joining mine on the floor. Hyuna lets out a breathless laugh as I tug her closer, her shirt slipping off one shoulder, exposing smooth skin that I can’t stop kissing.

Hands, lips, fabric, everything is a blur of urgency and reverence. Every layer we shed feels like another chain breaking, another mask discarded.

Hyunwoo’s mouth finds mine again, hot and certain, while Hyuna presses against my side, her fingers sliding over the bare skin of my chest. Their warmth consumes me, their closeness filling every hollow I thought would never be touched.

I’ve never felt so exposed.
I’ve never felt so alive.

And as clothes fall away and nothing remains between us but skin and need, I realise, this is it. This is freedom.

Being here, and loving them is freedom.

I don't want to be on the stage anymore.

My clothes are fully gone and both the twins are looking down at me while I lay on the bed.

Hyunwoo's hand travels from my collar bone down. Trailing down my chest, my stomach and then even lower.

My breath hitches and I whimper slightly as his hand reaches my arousal.

"Your already so hard, Luka," Hyuna coos, her mouth so close to my ear it sends tingles through my body.

"How can I not be when I've been longing for you two for so long" I reply breathlessly.

Hyunwoo's finger lightly runs along my length, teasing.

It's always Hyunwoo with the teasing. But I can't take it right now.

I need it. Bad. I need them bad.

My hips buck toward his touch, aching for more.

Hyunwoo laughs slightly at my reaction.

"So needy," he taunts, "Your going to have to tell me what you want with words, Luka."

My brows knit in annoyance and need.

"Please. Please touch me properly. Please satisfy my needs," I say almost like a plea.

"Good boy," Hyunwoo praises.

His praise makes my heart race.

He wraps his hand around my manhood and beings to stroke it slowly and testingly.

I let out a soft whine. My eyes flutter closed, too embarrassed to see both there faces watching mine.

Seeing this, Hyunwoo takes it further, jerking me off with more confidence and more deliberately.

My whole body tenses as I let out a moan.

Hyuna's lips meet mine again, muffling any noises that comes out.

My mind already feels overwhelmed by the sensation that Hyunwoo is giving me as well as Hyuna's kiss. It feels like I'm drowning, and I love it. I want it. I want to drown in the affection they give me. I NEED IT.

Hyunwoo suddenly stops, making whimper against Hyuna's mouth at the loss of sensation.

Hyuna also pulls away, slowly, her warm breath still lingering on my lips.

Hyunwoo grabs my hand and pulls me closer, making me sit up, before bringing me into another kiss with him.

His tongue explores my mouth, tangling with mine. He pulls back slightly, biting and tugging down on my bottom lip while pulling away.

Hyunwoo readjusts so that now he is behind me, and Hyuna is in front.

Hyunwoo's hand grab my waist, bringing me back against him so that I now sit on his lap.

Hyuna's eyes look into mine with such affection, it's enough to suffocate in. I feel my chest tighten.

She leans forward and leaves an trail of kisses against my collar bone and neck.

"We love you Luka," she says in between kisses.

My cheeks flush. I don't think we've ever exchanged the L word with each other. But now that she's said it to me, I want to say it back a hundred times.

"I-I love you both too," I say. The words come out stuttered, nervous.

Hyuna smiles against my neck.

"Your so cute Luka."

Her kisses trail down. Lower and lower, till they're dangerous low.

I can feel my abdomen tighten and she kisses right above my pelvis.

"Hyuna," I say breathlessly.

She placing one final kiss, right on my tip, while tucking her hair behind her ears.

Then I feel her mouth around me. Her lips soft and moist. The sensation driving me wild.

She hallows out her cheeks, her head bobbing up and down, but her eyes never leave mine.

Those soft loving eyes that she has. God I'm obsessed.

I let out a shaky moan, trying to resist the urge to buck my hips again.

"Lean forward slightly for me," Hyunwoo says, his hands still planted at my hips.

I'm not sure why, but I do it anyways, my mind too fogged from Hyuna's mouth to question.

And then I feel it—

Fingers, teases down there. At my opening.

His fingers rim the edge of my entrance, almost like asking permission to continue.

"H-Hyunwoo," I stutter, my breathing still hitched from the sensation Hyuna is giving me.

As if me calling his name was permission, he slowly pushes two fingers inside.

He pries and fingers, loosening me up.

It feels strange. Exposing, yet the exposure is fuelling my arousal.

His fingers move around, searching, until he hits a certain spot inside me.

"AHH!" I gasp loudly, at the sudden sensation that overcomes my body. The feeling makes me almost close my legs on Hyuna, out of shock.

"S-sorry Hyuna," I say shakily as I open my legs up again.

She pulls back, my member leaving her mouth with a pop.

"It's ok, my dear," she says before planting a kiss on my inner thigh.

Hyunwoo kisses my neck from behind, before continuing his exploration with his fingers.

He presses against that spot again, this time deliberately.

I let out another surprised gasp, but this time the sound mingles with a moan.

"I think that's enough preparing for now. It's getting harder and harder for me to keep my patience," Hyunwoo says, his breath warm against the back of my neck, sending tingles down my spine.

He lifts my hips down and guides them so that I'm positioned above his member.

Hyunwoo lets out a grunt, his hand still on my hips, as he pulls me down, making me take him inch by inch.

I can feel myself stretching around him, it's almost painful yet bearable. I bite down on my lower lip as he makes me take the whole thing.

He bottoms out inside me, filling me up completely. I can feel every inch of him.

He lets me adjust a moment before moving slightly. Slow, small thrust at first to get me used to the feeling.

"Mmhh~" I whimper slightly as I feel his member moving in and out of me. The slowness of the act just making each movement even more vivid.

Hearing the whimper, he takes it as an encouragement to keep going. He thrust into me harder, deeper, hitting that spot inside me that makes me cry out.

I can't seem to control my own voice, or my own body. I'm making sounds I've never made before in my life, and my body is doing embarrassing needy things. Yet I don't care. Because right now in this moment I feel fulfilled, with Hyuna and Hyunwoo's love.

Hyunwoo pushes me down onto the bed again, he lifts up my hips, trying to find a better angle.

"Ahh~!" I moan loud, my hands gripping the sheets as he pounds into me.

Hyuna appears above me, muffling my moans yet again with another kiss.

She pulls away and mounts on top of me, so she's hovering just above my face.

My hands go to her thighs, almost like an instinct, and trial up to rest at her hips.

She slowly lowers her hips down, her wetness just inches above my lips.

I guide her hips slowly down, encouraging her, until I feel her against me.

I lap at her core, tasting her juices on my tongue.

"Good boy. Just like that," she praises. Her hands reach down, tangling in with my hair, encouraging me to keep going.

And I do, letting out occasional muffles moans against her heat.

It's hard to focus on the tasks when the sensation Hyunwoo is giving me are getting even more intense.

He thrusts into me harder and deeper, hitting that same spot over and over. Suddenly, his hands wrap around my shaft, jerking it in time with his thrusts.

My whole body trembles, my eyes rolling back. The sensation are too much for me to handle.

I pull away from Hyuna's folds, the sensations overwhelming me.

"Ahh~ wait I'm... I'm gonna—"

Before I can finish the sentence, the feeling takes over my body. My body convulses in pleasure, my own semen spilling onto my stomach.

I moan loud, my back arches, and my hands gripping Hyuna's sides almost like a lifeline.

Hyunwoo continues his motions, drawing out my orgasm till it's final drops.

I breath heavily as I calm down from my high.

I feel as though all my chains have been discarded.

I know now that this is what I truly want.

The feeling of Hyuna and Hyunwoo's love.

I've made up my mind.

I'm escaping this palace with them.

Notes:

I genuinely needed to take so many brain breaks while writing this chapter.

OMGGGGGG.

Writing smut is not for me.

I'm also ashamed to say that this is probably the longest chapter I've written so far.