The Prince Returns
The King’s entourage gasped in unison at the sight before them.
Prince Young-Sik stood alive.
For a moment, no one moved.
Man-Ju remained frozen where he stood, his mind struggling to reconcile what his eyes were seeing. The man he had mourned—the man he believed lost to the sea—now walked toward him as if death itself had failed to claim him.
He flinched when Young-Sik suddenly embraced him.
“I missed you, brother,” the prince said warmly.
The words struck him, yet Man-Ju could not respond. His lips parted slightly, but no sound came. His gaze drifted, almost involuntarily, toward Jin-Ri—who stood nearby, her face bright with relief and quiet joy.
Around them, the royal entourage dropped to their knees.
“Thank the heavens you have returned, Your Highness!” they exclaimed in unison.
Young-Sik gently pulled away from his brother and turned toward them with a reassuring smile. Then, as if nothing were amiss, he glanced back at the King.
“Brother, are you so happy to see me alive that you could not even speak?” Young-Sik asked lightly.
“H-How?” Man-Ju finally managed, his voice unsteady. “I thought… we all thought you were dead. How did you survive?”
Young-Sik shrugged, his expression easy. “Luck, I suppose. The shockwave was strong enough to throw me overboard. I must have lost consciousness, because the next thing I knew, I woke up in a tent. An old couple had taken me in and nursed me back to health.”
Man-Ju listened intently, forcing himself to remain composed. After a brief pause, he nodded.
“Then such people deserve recognition,” he said, regaining his authority. “They have saved the life of a prince. We must reward them.”
“Unfortunately, brother, they are nomads—a wandering family. I do not know where they might be now.” Young-Sik offered a faint, almost apologetic smile.
Forgive me, brother, he thought quietly. I made a promise to Seo-Joon…
“Is that so?” Man-Ju replied. “Then it is a shame I cannot thank them personally. Still, such a miracle must be celebrated. I shall have the servants prepare a grand feast—in honor of your leadership during the war… and your safe return.”
Young-Sik’s smile widened. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and embraced his brother once more.
“Of course. But first, I need to see some friends. I will return later for the feast.”
Before Man-Ju could respond, Young-Sik reached for Jin-Ri’s hand.
“Come on.”
With that, the two of them ran off together, leaving the court behind.
Silence lingered in their wake.
Then—
Man-Ju’s expression darkened.
His jaw tightened, and his fists trembled at his sides.
Alive.
His brother was alive.
“Prepare the feast,” he ordered coldly, his voice stripped of warmth as he turned to the head eunuch and the head court lady.
Outside the palace halls, Jin-Ri struggled to keep pace as Young-Sik pulled her along.
“Where are we going, your—”
She did not finish.
Young-Sik gently pressed a finger to her lips, stopping her mid-sentence. There was a playful glint in his eyes.
“I just confessed my love to you,” he said, his tone soft but carrying the faintest hint of sulking. “You know what to call me.”
Jin-Ri blinked, then laughed quietly.
She took his hand more firmly this time.
“I believe… I confessed my love first,” she replied, her voice light and teasing. “Yong.”
The name lingered between them.
For a moment, the burdens of court, war, and survival seemed to fade into the distance.
Young-Sik chuckled, and the two continued on together, their steps lighter now, their destination unspoken—but understood.
Behind them, however, the palace stood unchanged.
And within it, shadows had already begun to stir.
