Within a few day, the palace had no sleep.
Footsteps thundered through corridors meant for whispers. Ministers argued openly. Court ladies cried behind silk sleeves. Incense burned constantly, prayers offered not for peace, but for survival.
The Queen Dowager stood at the center of it all, her composure cracking for the first time in years.
"My grandson is missing," she said, voice sharp with restrained panic. "And you stand here discussing procedure?"
"He will be found," the Left State Councillor said smoothly, bowing. "His Highness is strong."
The Queen's eyes cut to him. "Strong men still bleed."
Nearby, the King paced like a caged beast.
"Search the rivers. The roads. The borders," he roared. "Bring me my son, or bring me the heads of those who failed him!"
Silence.
The ministers too afraid to speak.
They hadn't seen the King this furious in a very long time.
He called for his best men, ordering them to bring his son back alive.
He spoke them, low and dangerous. "Go. And do not return without him. Do not return without the Crown Prince."
Within the inner court, the remaining princess candidates whispered nervously.
"Is the Crown Prince dead?" One asked.
"If the Crown Prince is dead-"
"The election will be meaningless."
"Will we be sent home?"
Only one remained calm.
The Left State Councillor's daughter sat straight-backed, hands folded neatly in her lap, eyes lowered, not in fear, but calculation. When murmurs grew too loud, she rose gracefully and performed a slow, deliberate bow.
"Until His Highness is declared lost," she said softly, "we will conduct ourselves as future royal consorts. Panic serves no one."
Her words settled the room.
Later, behind closed doors, her father smiled.
"He will return," he said. "And when he does, the throne will still be within reach."
She met his gaze, unwavering. "Then we must be ready when he does."
—
Kneeling in shadow, mud still staining his clothes, the third assassin trembled.
"She killed them," he said hoarsely. "Both of them."
The Prime Minister's fingers paused mid-pour.
"Killed?" the Queen echoed.
"She does not fight like a human," the assassin whispered. "She moves like instinct. Like fury. I swear it."
Silence stretched.
Then the Queen slowly moved closer to the assassin herself.
She stopped before the assassin, lifting his chin with one cold finger. "You ran."
"I barely survived."
The Queen's smile was slow. Terrifying. "I will give you one last chance to redeem yourself. You will finish what you were meant to."
Her presence filled the room with that one sentence, unyielding, lethal.
"Find the Crown Prince and kill him," she commanded. "But kill the foreigner first."
A full week passed.
Bella did not wake.
Sometimes she murmured. Sometimes her fingers twitched. Once, she cried out in a language Ji-ho did not recognize.
Each time, hope surged, only to die again.
Ji-ho sat beside her every day, counting breaths, memorizing her face as though afraid the gods might take it from him if he looked away.
On the eighth morning, the old man placed a basket in his hands. "Come. The earth feeds those who wait."
Reluctantly, Ji-ho followed him into the woods behind the hut, where a small garden was waiting patiently for them.
—
Bella woke alone.
Pain greeted her first, sharp, deep, reminding her she was still alive. The ceiling was unfamiliar. The air smelled of herbs and wood smoke.
Panic struck.
"Ji-ho…?" she whispered, forcing herself upright.
She stumbled but slowly made her way outside.
And froze.
Voices.
Then-
"Ha-neul!"
The basket hit the ground. Vegetables scattered.
Ji-ho ran to her, crushing her into his arms before thinking.
She gasped. "A-ah!"
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry-" His hands framed her face, frantic, reverent. "You're awake. You're really awake."
"I am," she breathed. "What… what happened?"
"You slept for a week," he said, voice breaking. "I thought… I thought you were gone."
Her eyes softened. "I'm here now, ain't I?"
She thanked the old man deeply, then caught his startled expression.
"You speak our tongue well," he said.
She smiled faintly. "Not well, but I am a merchant. From far lands. To sell to the native here, I had to pick up a bit."
The lie settled easily between them, well-practiced now.
They learned where they were. How far from Hanyang.
"We must return," Bella said immediately.
But the old man shook his head. "You lost much blood. Another journey now may kill you."
Ji-ho didn't argue.
So they stayed.
Days passed quietly.
They met the old man's daughter and her two children, laughter filling the hut in a way Ji-ho had never known. Bella smiled more. Ate more. Lived.
But one night, Bella took Ji-ho's hand.
"We have to go," she said softly. "The palace will be tearing itself apart."
He nodded.
The night before,
The old man packed their bags himself.
"For the road," he said. "One week's journey."
The old man did not let them leave alone.
At dawn, as mist still clung to the ground like breath, he placed a firm hand on Ji-ho's arm.
"The forest between here and Guryang-hyeon is not kind to travelers," he said. "I have two villagers heading there today. They know the safer paths. They will take you."
Two men waited at the edge of the road, both carrying bundles slung over their shoulders. Brothers, by the look of them, one broad and loud, the other quieter, eyes always scanning the trees.
Introductions were brief.
"We leave now," the old man said. "Do not linger. Do not wander. And whatever you hear in the forest, do not answer it."
Bella felt Ji-ho's fingers tighten around hers.
They set off.
The first day passed with uneasy calm.
The road wound through towering trees, their roots breaking through the earth like the bones of something long dead. Sunlight filtered down in narrow beams, never quite reaching the forest floor.
The villagers talked to fill the silence.
"You don't sound like you're from around here," the louder one said, glancing at Ji-ho. "Your accent, refined. Like a scholar. Or a noble."
Ji-ho hesitated only a heartbeat. "I was born to a noble house."
They burst into laughter.
"A nobleman walking through Guryang forest with a foreign woman?" the quieter one said. "The world must truly be ending."
Bella smiled faintly. "We were attacked by bandits. Lost everything."
The men sobered.
"Ah, you really do speak our tongue." the louder one said. "The old man told us. You're lucky to be alive."
As if summoned by the words, a branch snapped somewhere deep in the trees.
All four froze.
But nothing followed.
The villagers shrugged it off. "Deer," one said. "Or boar."
They kept walking.
On the second day, the forest changed.
The air grew heavier. The birds fell silent. Even the insects seemed to retreat.
As Guryang-hyeon's outer markers came into view, weathered wooden posts carved with warning symbols, one of the villagers slowed.
"This is where it begins," he said quietly. "Once you pass here, you don't stay out after sunset. You walk fast. You don't stray from the path. And you always take higher ground to rest."
Bella's stomach tightened. "Why?"
The man didn't answer right away.
"A tiger" he said finally. "Rogue. Too clever. Too bold. It's been killing people and stealing children."
Ji-ho's grip on his pack tightened. "One tiger?"
The man shook his head.
"No one's sure anymore."
They had almost reached the village boundary when Bella felt it.
That unmistakable pressure.
She stopped.
"Something's wrong," she said.
The forest answered with a sound that did not belong to any ordinary beast.
A low, vibrating growl, deep enough to rattle the air in her chest.
Then another.
From the opposite side.
The villagers swore under their breath.
"Two," one whispered. "They're fighting for territory."
Branches cracked.
Leaves exploded outward.
A massive striped form burst into view, golden eyes burning, muscles coiled, teeth bared.
And behind them…
Another.
Larger.
Scarred.
Both tigers turned their gaze toward the four humans standing frozen on the path.
Bella's hand slid instinctively toward her weapon.
Ji-ho tried stepping in front of her, but she pulled him back.
The ground trembled as they circled.