The garden was a phantom of itself in the moonlight, its vibrant colors bleached to shades of silver and deep blue. The scent of night-blooming jasmine hung heavy in the air, a cloying perfume that did nothing to mask the tension.
"So...you are the princess?"
The moment the garden door clicked shut, severing them from the ballroom's gasp, Princess Yuliana dropped Ji Hoon's arm as if it were a venomous snake.
In a single, fluid motion born of royal training, she spun. Moonlight glinted, not off jewelry, but off the polished steel of a slender dagger now held steady in her hand. Its needle-sharp point came to rest a mere inch from the vulnerable skin of Ji Hoon's throat.
Her green eyes, which in the arena had been sharp with competitive focus, were now narrowed with the lethal intent of a cornered predator.
"Start talking," she commanded, her voice a low, dangerous whisper that brooked no argument.
Ji Hoon's breath hitched. He instinctively leaned back, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. "Y-Your Highness, I— what is the meaning of—"
The knife pressed forward, the cold metal kissing his skin and silencing him instantly. A single, bead of sweat traced a path down his temple.
"I ask the questions," she hissed, her gaze unwavering. "You will give the answers. How did you know? At the ICC. I was masked. My voice was lowered; we never even met before that. My disguise should have been perfect. No one else saw through it. So how did you?"
Ji Hoon swallowed hard, the motion painful against the knife's point. "I... I didn't know. Not for certain. It was... a feeling. A strong guess, call it a hunch."
Her eyes narrowed further, the emerald irises searching his for any hint of deception. "A hunch?" she repeated, her tone dripping with skepticism.
"The way you carried yourself," he stammered, forcing himself to hold her intense gaze. "The way your body moved and those green eyes that somehow keep reminding me someone very important from my...past. I couldn't forget them." He took a shaky breath. "Seeing you react this way though...it seemed to confirm my guess."
The knife didn't waver. The silence stretched, broken only by the distant plash of a fountain. Gathering every ounce of his courage, Ji Hoon managed a weak, forced smile.
"Your Highness," he began, his voice raspy, "as fellow cooks... shouldn't our knives be reserved for ingredients? For creating dishes that bring joy? Not for... for threatening a fellow life."
For a heartbeat, nothing changed. Then, a flicker of something unreadable crossed Yuliana's face. The unwavering pressure of the blade against his throat lessened by a fraction of a millimeter.
Her lips parted. Her voice, when it came, was barely a whisper, stripped of its royal command and sharp threat, leaving behind something raw and utterly surprised.
"Did you just," she breathed, "call me a... a c-cook?"
The dagger lowered fully, hanging loosely at her side. In the bright moonlight, she was no longer just a terrifying princess or a mysterious rival. She looked like what she was: a young woman who had just been seen, truly seen, for the first time in her life.
"Of course, you are, aren't you?" Ji Hoon said, his voice gaining a sliver of confidence as the knife retreated. The ghost of a real smile touched his lips. "After seeing how you moved in that arena, measuring, whisking, judging the dough's elasticity... there's no other word for it. You're a cook. A skilled one."
He took a cautious half-step forward, emboldened by her stunned silence. "And you passed the preliminary legally, didn't you? Considering the disguise, it doesn't seem you used your... other resources. You must have earned your way in, just like the rest of us."
Yuliana stared at him, her intense focus shifting from interrogation to something else entirely—a deep, probing curiosity. Then, a slow, genuine smile bloomed on her face, so different from the polished, public mask she wore. It was a smile of pure, unadulterated delight.
"It seems," she said, her voice laced with a new, appreciative warmth, "the kitchen isn't the only place you're skilled. You have a dangerous way with words, Cassian Ahn." She finally sheathed the dagger with a soft click, the sound signaling a truce.
She turned and walked silently to a marble bench nestled between two sculpted hedges, the moonlight painting her in silver. She sat, arranging her sapphire skirts with a practiced grace that was still entirely royal.
Ji Hoon remained standing, rooted to the spot. The whiplash from mortal peril to... whatever this was, left him disoriented. Was he dismissed? Was he supposed to kneel?
Seeing his frozen posture, she let out a soft, exasperated sigh. "Sit down," she commanded, though the edge was gone from her tone.
He obeyed quickly, perching on the far end of the bench like a startled bird.
A small, amused huff escaped her. "Relax. I won't bite." The informality of the words felt strange and thrilling in the quiet garden.
The tension in Ji Hoon's shoulders eased slightly. The chef in him, the part that always tried to lighten the mood in a stressful kitchen, took over. A petty, ridiculous joke formed on his lips before he could stop it.
"You might change your mind about that though if you took a bite," he said, gesturing vaguely at himself. "As a cook specialized with sweets, I'm told I'm... quite sweet. Probably too sweet for your palate, Your Highness."
The moment the words left his mouth, he winced internally. 'By the angels, that was terrible.'
For a heartbeat, there was only silence. Then, Princess Yuliana let out a sound he had never heard from her—a real, unfiltered, and slightly inelegant snort of laughter. It was quickly followed by a warm, melodic laugh that seemed to startle even her.
It was the worst joke he'd ever made, and it had somehow disarmed the most powerful girl in the empire.
"By the stars," she managed between breaths, dabbing at the corner of her eye with a finger. "That was truly, truly awful."
And in that shared moment, over a terrible pun in a moonlit garden, the last vestiges of "Princess" and "Noble" fell away, leaving only Yuliana and Ji Hoon.
Ji Hoon looked at her intently, the moonlight softening the edges of the strange intimacy they now shared. A question, which had been simmering since he'd realized her identity, finally surfaced. "So... can I ask how this all started? The Princess cooking. The disguise."
Yuliana looked out at the shadowed garden, a wistful smile gracing her lips. "How it all started, huh?..." She let out a soft sigh. "I guess it was all about proving my beliefs to a certain someone."
She began, her voice taking on a distant quality. "Back when I was a child, while my brother loved going out to train with the knights, I preferred staying in. I loved to bake and make sweets with my mother, the Empress."
A genuine, fond smile appeared. "She used to smile all the same time back then. A real, bright smile. And I liked how we were..."
Her smile faltered, and she gritted her teeth slightly. "But these years... she's just been so busy. The politics, the endless situation at the border... I haven't seen her truly smile in so long."
Her expression softened again, filled with a daughter's determination. "So I guess this was just my way of trying to make her remember. If I could get to the finals—where the dishes are judged by the Emperor and Empress—create something worthy of the ICC stage... maybe she'd taste my dish and remember that joyful face she had when it was just us in the kitchen."
She shrugged, a hint of vulnerability seeping through. "But I guess that's just a far-fetched dream..."
She turned abruptly to Ji Hoon, as if shaking off the melancholy. "Enough about me. How about you? How does a noble heir become a cook who can tame Sea Sugar?"
Ji Hoon leaned back, his gaze lifting to the tapestry of stars above. "How I began...?" A wave of nostalgia, tinged with the ache of two lifetimes, washed over him. "It was a long time ago. I guess... it was about a promise."
"A promise?" Yuliana echoed, intrigued.
"Yeah," he said, his voice soft. "One I made to someone I held very important. She was like an elder sister to me."
'She?' Yuliana thought.
"She taught me everything and was always there for me..." Ji Hoon trailed off, the weight of the memory clear on his face.
Yuliana studied his serious, almost mournful expression. "A long time ago? Aren't you younger than me?"
"Only by a year," he countered quickly.
"Then why do you make it sound like you've lived two lifetimes?" she teased, a playful glint returning to her eyes. "What are you, a middle-aged man reincarnated into a young noble's body?"
"Hahahha! Good one..." he forced a chuckle that sounded a little too strained, a little too hollow. "Eh~"
She looked at him weirdly, the odd note in his laughter not escaping her notice. A slightly awkward silence fell between them, but it was no longer hostile. To fill it, Yuliana leaned her head back, her gaze lifting to the night sky. "They're very visible tonight..." she murmured, her voice soft.
Ji Hoon followed her gaze, the tension in his shoulders easing as he looked up. The vast, inky blackness was dusted with countless shimmering points of light. "Yeah," he agreed, a note of genuine wonder in his voice. "You can see a lot more from here than from the city streets."
For a few heartbeats, they simply sat in comfortable silence, two cooks under the same ancient sky, the weight of their titles and pasts momentarily forgotten. Then, a particularly strong breeze swept through the garden, rustling the leaves and making Yuliana shiver visibly, hugging her arms.
"Well, should we?" she said, breaking the quiet moment. "I don't think we should keep the party's guest of honor out here in the cold, should we?" she added with a smile.
"I guess we shouldn't," Ji Hoon agreed.
They stood and began walking back. As they neared the palace lights, Ji Hoon glanced at her. "So, will I see you at round two, Cook Yuna?"
She smiled, a genuine, competitive spark in her eyes. "Of course. I wouldn't miss it, Cook Cassian."
They reached the doors where Lewis stood sentinel. The guard snapped to attention and bowed deeply the moment he saw the Princess. As he straightened, his eyes locked onto Ji Hoon, and the intensity of his gaze was a clear, unspoken message: I have my eyes on you.
The door closed behind them with a soft thud, and the music died.
The whole ballroom seemed to freeze. The air grew thick and heavy. Every single person had turned to stare.
Ji Hoon's heart hammered against his ribs. He could feel the weight of their eyes.
Near the throne, the Emperor watched. His face gave nothing away, but his eyes were sharp, moving from his daughter's face to Ji Hoon's, studying them both like a puzzle.
A few steps away, Marquess Roswald stood perfectly still. A muscle in his jaw twitched. He wasn't just looking; he was staring a hole through Ji Hoon, his usual cool smile gone, replaced by a cold, hard silence that felt more threatening than any shout.
His mother, Lady Yuhwa, met his gaze from across the room. Her smile was tight, not reaching her worried eyes. Her expression a turbulent mix of maternal pride and sheer terror for the political fire her son had just walked into.
Across the room, Lady Vale stood rigid, her lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. A hot, possessive jealousy she would never admit to churned behind her eyes, furious that the boy she considered her property had drawn the gaze of a princess.
And near the servants' entrance, Ione watched, her fox ears flattened against her brilliant red hair. Her golden eyes were wide, glued to him and the Princess. She just looked at them, her expression unreadable.
In the middle of the crushing silence, Princess Yuliana took a small step forward, her head high. But for Ji Hoon, the comfortable world of recipes and kitchens was gone, replaced by the ruthless calculus of power and perception.