The warm scent of exquisite herbs and freshly boiled chicken lingered around Dohyun as he stepped forward, holding the silver tray. He entered the courtroom, which was surprisingly noisy for such an early hour.
A long queue stretched before him, at least around fifty subjects of Hwachon, all belonging to the southern estate. Strangely, yet not unexpectedly, the line consisted only of the elderly and middle-aged women. One of them was an old man with eyes sunken deep beneath loose, sagging skin, his clothes worn thin with age. Another was an elderly woman, perhaps around fifty-four, clutching a heavy sack of grains to her chest.
There was also a group of female dancers standing together. They wore graceful costumes made of soft, flowing fabric- translucent, yet opaque enough to conceal their intimate parts. Out of respect for the Princess, each had wrapped a large piece of wool around her shoulders, the cloth cascading down to their feet. Their faces were veiled as well, covered with translucent fabric matching their red and pink-toned garments.
Right, Dohyun needed to enter the chamber that lay beyond the hall. He had to deliver the soup and convince the Princess.
The courtroom itself was vast, though less extravagantly decorated than the rest of the palace. Giant copper walls rose high, reaching the ceiling, where a unique mural was etched-- a golden flower blooming above its subjects like a chandelier, the pride and symbol of Hwachon itself. Along the sides of the roof were carefully designed windows, positioned so that sunlight streamed directly into the hall, reducing the need for lanterns.
It almost appeared as though the golden flower was showering its celestial blessings upon the people below, the sunlight dispersing through the windows and reflecting upon the blossom.
Dohyun thought to himself that this place never ceased to surprise him with its beauty. Perhaps it was true, beauty required a beautiful place to reside. This palace resonated deeply with the Princess. Now, he finally understood why Hwa Miye was called the Flower Princess.
The chamber he needed to reach lay beyond the sea of people before him. Cutting the line for his own gain was not something he had been taught to do. Thus, he quietly joined the queue.
The wait felt endless.
At this rate, the soup would grow cold and become useless to the Princess. He couldn't win over a sick person with cold soup now, could he?
Disheartened, Dohyun realized this was not the right moment. His feathery lashes lowered, his face sinking with despair, though he tried his best to conceal it.
He stepped away from the line and walked toward the far end, where a young girl of about sixteen stood waiting. Her complexion was ghastly, her expression tense and on edge. She clasped her trembling hands into tight fists, silently waiting for her turn.
"Um… excuse me, Miss."
The girl had been muttering constantly under her breath, but the deep voice interrupted her thoughts. She jolted violently at the sound. Seeing how startled she was, Dohyun immediately took two steps back.
"Please forgive my interruption," he said gently. "If you don't mind, could you deliver this bowl of soup to the Princess for me? You're next in line, and by the time my turn comes, the soup will grow cold. You can tell her it was sent by her maid, Sung Chunhee."
"S-Stay… S-Stay back!"
The girl shoved him, fury blazing in her almond-shaped eyes. The bowl nearly slipped from his grasp, but Dohyun reacted swiftly, steadying the tray just in time. He retreated a few more steps and spoke calmly,
"If you don't wish to, I apologize. Please, calm-"
Before he could finish, the girl lunged at him. In her hand was a poorly sharpened knife, its blade stained with brown rust.
Dohyun was completely caught off guard.
With both hands occupied and his attacker being nothing more than a young girl, he didn't know how to handle the situation. He had to protect the soup; he had to deliver it to the Princess. This was his only chance. He couldn't let go.
He let his instincts take control.
Dohyun slid to his right, moving carefully enough that not a single drop spilled from the tightly covered bowl, though the lid rattled slightly.
The commotion drew every gaze in the courtroom toward them.
What was happening?
Dohyun himself wished he knew.
"Little lady, please," he said urgently. "I'm not here to harm-"
"It was you!!" She roared, tears streaming down her soot-streaked face, "You took my mother!! Where is she?!"
???
Whispers erupted around them.
"What's going on? Did that young boy harass a little girl?"
"But men aren't allowed inside the Princess's palace."
"She's saying he took her mother away."
"He must have harassed her mother!!"
?????
No. No, no, no! This wasn't how it was supposed to go!
Dohyun was supposed to approach someone kind, hand over the tray of soup, and quietly leave. He was supposed to wait patiently for another opportunity, perhaps with Lady Chunhee's help, approach the Princess properly, prove his capabilities, earn an official position, and climb his way toward his goal.
Being accused of harassing someone's mother, someone he had never even met in his life, was never part of the plan.
"I believe you're mistaken," Dohyun said, trying to defend himself. "It wasn't me."
"I saw you!! With my own eyes!" she screamed and pointed the knife at him. "It was you! You dragged my mother by her hair and beat her. Then… then…"
Her swollen eyes filled with even more tears.
"Then you took her somewhere. I heard her screaming…" Her voice broke, "What did you do with her?" She sniffled, cheeks flushed red, "She hasn't come back yet… w-wahhh…"
The girl collapsed to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. The rusted knife slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor as she desperately wiped at her tears.
Mournful wails echoed throughout the hall, drawing the attention of everyone present. Concerns gathered swiftly around Dohyun and the little girl at the center of the chaos.
Several elderly women rushed to console her, while elderly men, mostly in their fifties and sixties, crowded around Dohyun instead.
"You look like someone from a reputable family. What have you done with her mother? Are you trying to flaunt your nobility and power?!"
"Look at him, he's even wearing palace uniform. I say he stole it! How else could he enter without a pass?"
"He dares intrude into the Princess's court! Beat him until he spills the truth!!"
And so, the old men began to strike him.
The soup spilled from the tray as several men shoved him roughly, the hot liquid splashing across his arm. Even through the layers of clothing, the heat burned his skin. His maroon robe quickly absorbed the scent of chicken soup.
They kicked him, slapped him and punched him.
Yet Dohyun remained silent.
I must not hurt the elderly, he thought.
But what about himself? What if he was the one hurting?
Dohyun didn't linger on the thought. He never did. He was selfless like that.
He endured the searing pain and the sharp kicks to his gut. Even when the blows forced coughs from his chest, he made no sound. He curled onto the floor, raising his arms over his head as a shield.
At what cost?
They continued to strike even his burned arms.
"What a stubborn brat! He won't say a word about her mother."
"We should break his legs…"
The voices began to blur, growing distant, as if carried away by the air.
Suddenly, memories surfaced: times when he had been beaten exactly like this. Taking blows was nothing new. He had survived countless nights of hunger and cold. He had endured beatings since childhood.
This is nothing.
This is really nothing.
Once, when he was only eleven, he had been practicing swordsmanship with the other students. By then, Uncle Hwang had already taken him in and taught him the ways of a Hwachon soldier. During a sparring match with a boy a year older than him, his opponent resorted to dirty tricks.
Their swords were wooden, yet for some reason, the other boy's felt sharper than Dohyun's.
The intent had been clear:
He doesn't belong here. Let's show him his place.
Dohyun knew he was being bullied. He didn't care.
He gave it everything he had.
Uncle Hwang was watching. Dohyun had to prove he was capable.
Despite the tricks and the cuts that followed, Dohyun didn't give up. He lunged forward and attacked. In the end, he won.
Unable to accept defeat, the boy and his friends ganged up on him after the match. They beat him until he bled. They crushed his lungs and struck him repeatedly with an iron rod - his back, his head, his stomach.
Pain stabbed through every inch of his body.
Dohyun didn't make a sound.
Why?
Because he knew the truth. No one would side with him. And Uncle Hwang could not be troubled over such matters again and again. He had to endure it. Endure it now, and repay it all once he grew stronger than them all.
When they finally tired of his unresponsive body, they discarded him like trash on the street, tossing the bloodied iron rod into the river.
As the sun set, its fading rays reflected off the trickling saltwater that dripped from Dohyun's swollen, bloodied eye.
Finally, it was over.
But… how do I go back?
I can't move…
And so he lay there, soaked in blood and dust, quietly enduring the pain as he slipped into sleep… or perhaps into death.
Back then, he had survived because of Uncle Hwang.
Now, the same scene repeated itself.
But this time, who would save him? Was there anyone he could call his own here?
No.
No one would come. No one would save him.
So he had to endure. Endure and endure and endure. Don't worry. It will end soon. Just bite your tongue and endure it. No one's going to-
"What is the meaning of this?"
An icy voice rang through the court.
It was androgynous, yet stern enough to crush pride and force even the boldest to their knees.
Everyone turned and immediately bowed, fear and reverence etched onto their faces.
The figure before them radiated a gentle glow, yet beneath that radiance lay a bone-deep coldness that sent shivers down their spines. Long, wide sleeves brushed against the floor as the figure moved.
"Your Highness! We have awaited your presence. Please do justice!"
One of the women spoke as though she herself had been wronged. While attempting to comfort the sobbing girl, she hurriedly explained the situation, her wrinkled face twisting with agitation.
Hwa Miye remained silent.
His gaze landed on the beaten, curled-up figure on the floor who now looked like a crushed pill bug. His brows furrowed, anger and disgust flickering in his eyes.
"Do you enjoy causing trouble," he asked sharply, "or does trouble simply follow you?"
Then his gaze shifted to the crying girl.
"Why do you accuse him of taking your mother?"
"M-My lady! I saw those same eyes back then. They were exactly like his!"
"Did you see his face?"
"No… he was veiled."
"Then how can you be certain it was him?"
"I… I-"
"You are young, and therefore a poor judge of character. Worse still, all of you chose to side with her without discerning truth from falsehood. You assaulted someone without evidence and declared him guilty. If this is not impudence displayed in my court, then what is?"
Each word was laced with cold authority.
His long lashes fluttered as his brows narrowed, his gaze shifting between the crowd and Dohyun. His straight nose twitched with clear disdain. It was obvious: the Flower Princess was furious.
The courtroom fell silent.
The people realized their fault and stood speechless, unable to defend themselves.
Yet the girl remained resolute.
She stepped forward and dropped to her knees, sobbing anew. "Your Highness, please… find my mother… I beg you…"
"And the boy you injured?" Hwa Miye asked coldly. "Is his life of no importance to you?"
"M-My lady…?"
Is the Princess truly siding with a man?
The Princess who despised men, who had only ever accepted Prince Yugwon into her life?
Surely she would rather side with the wrong than with a man.
That was what they had believed. That was how the flower princess had always been.
But this time, she was not biased.
She really sought justice.
The girl sniffled. For the first time, disdain crossed the Princess's face, along with a prideful hatred directed not at the girl, but at her own subjects. The very people for whom she worked tirelessly, even while sick. The people for whom she penned countless petitions to resolve the smallest grievances.
Why was she different this time?
"Your mother will be found," Hwa Miye said coolly. "That is certain, if she is still within my province of Hwachon."
His gaze darkened.
"But how will you repay what you did to that boy?"
"My lady! You cannot side with him without evidence!" the girl cried desperately. "I recognized his eyes but what about you?! On what basis are you siding with him?!"
The words slipped from her tongue. Regret etched onto her skin completely.
She knew she shouldn't have said it... but grief had overtaken reason.
Gasps rippled through the court. Those who had supported the girl once, now immediately stepped back in regret.
"Evidence, you ask?" Hwa Miye's voice turned chilling.
"He slept under my roof last night and did not move an inch from his place. Witnesses?" His eyes sharpened. "I am the witness. Do you require more?"
The hall erupted in shock.
A man… sleeping under the Flower Princess's roof?
And she had observed him closely enough to vouch for him? How can that be...? It's truly....
The girl was left utterly speechless.
Hwa Miye scoffed. "Your mother will be found. If this boy is guilty, I will punish him personally. If not..."
His gaze swept across the room.
"...be prepared to answer for your actions. All of you."
He stepped toward the battered body on the floor, then glanced over his shoulder. Two servant women dressed in dull white and pale blue rushed forward, lifting the unconscious boy. His bloodied feet dragged against the ground as they carried him toward the door.
"Today's court is dismissed."
The order was absolute and the people dispersed at once.