Chapter 1
Jeanne stared at the same paragraph for the third time.
The words on the page refused to make sense.
She rubbed her eyes and glanced at the clock mounted on the library wall.
7:42 a.m.
Great.
She'd spent the entire night studying and somehow managed to learn absolutely nothing.
A bright red drip landed on her notebook.
Jeanne frowned.
Another drop followed.
Then another.
"Oh, come on."
Blood splattered across her notes, crimson droplets soaked into the corner of the page she'd spent twenty minutes highlighting.
Jeanne grabbed a tissue from her bag, leaned her head back, and pressed it against her nose.
Perfect.
A nosebleed while wearing the UC Law sweater her dad had gifted her. If that wasn’t an omen, she didn’t know what was.
She stuffed the tissue into her nostril and tied her black hair into a messy ponytail.
Around her, the library remained blissfully unaware of her suffering.
She ran over to the restroom to check her sweater. Thank goodness, it seemed bloodstain-free.
Jeanne made her way back to the study table and checked the time again.
7:55.
Her eyes widened.
"Crap."
She shoved her textbooks into her bag and shot out of her chair.
If she was late to her teaching job again, they were going to kill her.
Not literally.
Probably.
But she needed that job. It was the only way she could help pay off her school loans. On top of it all, her younger sister was a reckless spender, and Jeanne, being the responsible one, had to take care of it before her parents could.
She loved her sister.
She really did.
But sometimes she hated her a little too.
Who needed a four-thousand-dollar Chanel bag? And for what? To impress relatives who would always look down on them?
Jeanne tightened her grip on her bag and hurried down the sidewalk.
It wasn't as if her parents were lazy. They worked hard. They had always worked hard. But San Francisco was expensive, and hard work didn't stretch as far as people liked to pretend it did.
That’s why Jeanne had promised herself she would become successful and take care of them; they had sacrificed so much; it was only right she worked this hard.
By the time she pushed open the classroom door, the children were already waiting.
A dozen little faces turned toward her.
Jeanne forced her best cheerful smile.
"Anyeong, everyone. Are we ready to practice our Hangul?"
***
By the time class ended, it was 3 p.m., and Jeanne felt like her soul had left her body.
She wished she had time to hang out, but at twenty-five, she had already become one of the first people in her family to graduate from college. Now she was on track to earn a law degree. Her parents had bragged about it to everyone; she couldn’t let them down.
Hangouts could wait.
On the way home, Jeanne stopped by her favorite coffee shop. She rarely allowed herself to buy anything she didn't need, but after an all-nighter, a nosebleed, and teaching, she needed it.
She ordered her favorite lavender latte and stepped back outside, warmth spreading through her hands from the cup. It wasn’t particularly cold, but December was around the corner, and the air was getting chillier each day. She rounded the corner, taking another sip.
The bus wouldn’t come for another 20 minutes.
She almost sat on the bench when she noticed the bookstore.
It was small, tucked between a dry cleaner and a closed-down nail salon, with faded green paint and a crooked sign hanging above the door.
Jeanne frowned.
Had that always been there?
She made her way across the street to the shop.
If there was one guilty pleasure she allowed herself, it was fantasy novels. They were the best kind of escape. For a few hours, she could disappear into a world that didn't belong to her and forget responsibilities that were constantly breathing down her neck.
The bell above the door chimed when she walked in.
"Hello," said an older man from behind the counter.
He had scruffy gray hair, an unkempt beard, and the exact look of someone who belonged in a strange little bookstore that may or may not have existed yesterday.
Jeanne wandered through the aisles until she found a small wooden bin near the back.
USED BOOKS
Most of them had cracked spines and faded covers.
One book caught her eye.
It was plain black, with the title stamped across the front in dull gold letters.
The War of the Two Princes.
Jeanne turned it over.
No summary.
No author.
No publisher.
Nothing.
Just a black back cover.
Weird.
"Excuse me," she called. "How much is this one?"
The old man looked up.
"From that bin? One dollar."
She put it back down.
But for a dollar, and it was pretty thick, why not?
"I’ll take this one."
The older man nodded without much interest.
Jeanne opened her coin purse and pulled out four quarters, dropping them into his hand.
"Thank you."
“I haven’t seen someone so young carry cash.”
The older man smiled.
Jeanne returned the smile as she slipped the book into her bag and walked out just as her bus pulled up outside.
Perfect timing, for once.
***
As Jeanne's bus pulled up to her stop, rain began to patter softly against the windows.
The doors hissed open, and she hurried off the bus, lifting her bag over her head as she jogged down the sidewalk.
Her house sat on the corner of a quiet street. It wasn't much to look at. The paint had started peeling around the windows years ago, and every spring her father promised he would repaint it.
Every spring, he forgot.
The front of the house was worse.
Most people had a plant or two.
Her father had a makeshift vegetable garden.
Rows and rows of vegetables.
Tomatoes, peppers, herbs, onions, if it could be grown, her father had probably planted it.
His philosophy was simple:
"If you can grow it, it’s good for you. If it's good for you, you cook it."
Jeanne pushed open the front door.
Warmth immediately wrapped around her, along with the smell of dinner.
Kimchi stew.
Rice.
Pajeon.
Her stomach growled.
"Oh my God, Mom, that smells amazing."
Her mother looked up from the kitchen.
"Jeanne!"
The relief on her face was immediate.
"I was worried. You didn't answer my messages last night."
Jeanne winced.
"Sorry. I pulled another all-nighter at the library."
Her mother's expression instantly turned into concern.
"Again?"
"I'm fine."
"You look exhausted."
“I’m really fine…it’s just that my skin isn’t as good as yours.”
Her mother sighed.
"You work too hard."
Jeanne took off the old Nikes that she had since high school, hung her bag on the rack by the door, hugged her mom, and washed her hands.
“Try this,” her mother said as Jeanne made her way back into the kitchen.
She blew at the stew, and Jeanne took a sip.
It was so delicious it nearly made her cry.
Real food.
She had been living off granola bars during the week.
“Where’s dad?” Jeanne asked, grabbing chopsticks and spoons to set the table.
“He should be home in ten minutes,” her mother said, looking up at the clock.
"Eonnie?"
Across the hall, her younger sister's head appeared from their shared bedroom.
Oh no.
Mina only called her eonnie when she wanted something.
"What?"
Mina smiled.
It was the smile of someone about to cause problems.
"Can I talk to you for a second?"
"No."
"Please?"
"Can’t you see I’m busy?"
"Pretty please?"
Jeanne pointed a spoon at her.
"What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything."
"You definitely did something."
Mina gasped dramatically.
"You never trust me."
"Because you've never given me a reason to."
Their mother frowned.
"Girls."
"It's fine, Mom," Jeanne said.
It wasn't fine.
But it was easier than explaining.
With a sigh, she placed the rest of the utensils on the table and followed Mina into their bedroom.
The moment the door closed, Jeanne crossed her arms.
"What happened?"
"Nothing happened."
"Mina."
"Okay, maybe a little something happened."
Jeanne groaned.
Their room was barely big enough for two beds, one desk ( Jeanne was the only one who used it), and a shared dresser.
She couldn't wait to move out one day.
"What happened?"
Mina sat on her bed.
"So, remember that bag?"
Jeanne closed her eyes.
"The Chanel bag."
"It’s actually a vintage classic flap bag that is really hard to find so-"
"The four-thousand-dollar Chanel bag," Jeanne cut her off, “the one which you used part of our parents’ hard-earned money to buy and the rest on a credit card that you can’t pay back. Yeah.”
Mina looked away.
Jeanne walked over and sat on the bed next to her.
"What now?"
"Well… it wasn’t actually four thousand that was the down payment.”
Jeanne’s mouth dropped open. She had to be joking.
“Before you panic…I got a job to pay it off so you don’t have to.”
Jeanne blinked.
"A job?"
"See? Good news,” Mina said, throwing her arms around Jeanne and squeezing her.
"What kind of job?"
Mina hesitated.
That was never a good sign.
"Mina…what job?"
"...I told them I was twenty-one."
Jeanne stared.
"You what?"
"It's not a big deal."
"Why would you? Wait, what kind of job requires you to be twenty-one?"
"It's just serving drinks."
"Oh, my God."
"It's not like that."
"It is exactly like that."
"It's literally pouring wine into glasses."
"No."
"Yes."
"Dad said dyeing your hair blonde would damage your brain...he was right."
Mina pouted and pushed her away.
Jeanne pointed at her.
"You are not working at some random bar, Mina."
"It's not random."
"It's a bar."
"It's a classy, upscale lounge."
"It's a bar that didn’t even do a proper background check on their new employee."
Mina groaned.
"You're impossible."
"And you're irresponsible."
Mina crossed her arms.
"Fine. I was trying to help."
Jeanne paused.
"You knew I would oppose this, so why are you telling me?”
"Mhm."
Jeanne narrowed her eyes.
Mina avoided eye contact.
“I just need you to take me there tonight. I start at 10:30, and then you could study. I need you to cover just one night? Hmm?”
"No. Absolutely not. Return the bag and apologize. This conversation is over."
“No…”
Jeanne’s brows furrowed.
"What do you actually need this bag for?"
Silence.
"Mina."
More silence.
"Don’t make me repeat myself."
"Mom’s sister was bragging about how trashy we looked at the last reunion, and I just wanted…”
Mina trailed off.
Jeanne stared at her.
"...So what, who cares what they think."
"I do!”
"You got a fake-age bar job for people who see you once a year?"
"It’s not just that! Isn’t that why you work so hard, so people can stop looking down on us? ”
Jeanne bit her bottom lip. She didn’t want to admit Mina had a point. She threw her hands into the air.
“Jeanne, I also really want to help you. You’re never home, always tired. Plus, I’d make more than you do at that cheap academy anyway.”
“At least my job is honorable, and I’m not selling myself.”
Jeanne stood up, and Mina grabbed her sleeve.
“That’s not what’s happening! Can you not be so self-righteous for once?”
“I’m tired, and I just heard Dad walk in. Have fun explaining to them.”
She turned and marched back toward the dining room.
Behind her, Mina shouted,
"You're overreacting!"
"I'm not!"
She slammed the bedroom door behind her.
Honestly.
One day, that girl was going to send her to an early grave.
***
Jeanne sat behind the steering wheel, waiting for Mina as she anxiously tapped her fingers. Mina was stubborn and would try to sneak out and cause actual damage. Jeanne reasoned it was better to take her and then try to talk her out of it later.
"You're unbelievable," she muttered as Mina climbed into the passenger seat.
"I love you too, Eonnie."
"I said you're unbelievable."
"Same thing."
Jeanne groaned and started the engine.
The car rattled in protest. Much like its owner, it was exhausted and operating purely out of spite.
Jeanne rarely drove anymore. Gas was expensive, and the bus was cheaper. The only reason she still owned the car was because it had been her grandfather's.
Rain tapped softly against the windshield as they pulled away from the house.
The drive was quiet.
Mostly because Jeanne refused to speak.
Mina wisely decided not to push her luck.
Twenty minutes later, they pulled into a crowded parking lot.
Jeanne looked up at the building.
It wasn't as bad as she'd imagined.
A lounge.
Upscale.
Dim lighting.
Expensive cars.
Still.
The number of middle-aged businessmen entering and leaving wasn't exactly comforting.
She narrowed her eyes.
"I don't like this."
"It's fine."
"It doesn't look fine."
"It literally does."
"It literally doesn't."
Mina unbuckled her seatbelt.
"Stop worrying."
"That's easy for you to say."
"Because I'm the one working."
"Exactly."
Mina laughed.
Before getting out, she leaned over and hugged Jeanne.
It caught her completely off guard.
"Thank you so much."
Jeanne rolled her eyes.
"Get inside before I change my mind."
Mina grinned and jumped out.
Jeanne watched until she disappeared through the front doors.
Only then did she finally relax.
A little.
She wasn't leaving yet.
Just because Mina was irresponsible didn't mean Jeanne had to be.
She reached into her bag and pulled out the book she'd bought earlier.
The black cover gleamed faintly beneath the parking lot lights.
The War of the Two Princes.
Such a dramatic title.
Jeanne opened to the first chapter.
Within minutes, she was hooked.
The story followed Crown Prince Cedric of Kazhar, the beloved heir to the throne.
He was capable, honorable, and respected by the people.
Everything a future king should be.
His younger brother, Prince Lucien, was another matter entirely.
Jeanne snorted.
"This guy is an ass."
The second prince had barely appeared for three chapters and had already managed to create problems for everyone around him.
Typical younger sibling.
She turned another page.
Cedric was handling state affairs.
Lucien was chasing women.
Cedric was carrying the kingdom.
Lucien was making everyone miserable.
Jeanne sighed.
Being the oldest really was unfair.
The more she read, the more she found herself rooting for Cedric.
Without realizing it, hours slipped by.
A loud knock against the car window made Jeanne jump.
She nearly dropped the book.
"What the—"
Jeanne unlocked the passenger door, and Mina climbed inside, dripping rainwater everywhere.
"You waited for me?"
Jeanne blinked.
She glanced at the dashboard clock.
4:07 A.M.
"...Oh."
Mina stared at her.
"Jeanne…."
Jeanne looked back down at the book in her lap.
"...I may have lost track of time."
"You think?"
"I was reading."
"For six hours?"
"I never get me time, so I finally did."
Mina burst out laughing.
"That's insane."
Jeanne held up the book.
"It's really good."
Mina leaned over to look at the cover.
"The War of the Two Princes?"
"It's surprisingly addictive."
"What's it about?"
Jeanne started the car.
"A kingdom. Two princes are fighting over succession rights. Political drama. Family issues."
"That sounds boring."
"It isn't."
"And it’s like a thousand pages."
"It’s only like six hundred.”
“And you’re already halfway done…wanna read my school books?”
“No.”
They drove in silence for a bit, then Jeanne gave Mina a sidelong glance.
“What?”
“You know the older brother in the book is actually pretty interesting."
"Really?"
"He's carrying the entire kingdom on his back while his younger brother runs around causing problems."
Mina grinned.
"Sounds familiar."
“Precisely.”
Mina laughed.
"So what does the younger brother do?"
Jeanne pursed her lips as she thought.
"A lot of annoying stupid stuff. I think the worst so far was when he shoved his older brother down a flight of stairs when they were younger."
Mina's eyes widened.
"What?"
"Yeah."
"What kind of psycho does that?"
Jeanne shrugged.
"The older brother still limps because of it."
"Dang."
Rain tapped softly against the windshield.
"Eonnie?"
"What?"
"We fight all the time."
"Why do I feel like you're about to say something stupid?"
"I'm serious."
Jeanne rolled her eyes.
"Okay."
Mina looked out the window.
"You'd never actually hurt me, right?"
The question caught her off guard.
Jeanne glanced at her.
Mina was trying to sound casual.
She wasn't succeeding.
"Of course not."
"Even when I'm annoying?"
"Especially then."
Mina smiled.
"What if I bought another designer bag?"
Jeanne tightened her grip on the steering wheel.
"Then I might leave you on the side of the road."
"See? There it is."
"But I'd come back."
Mina laughed.
Jeanne ran a hand through her hair.
"You're impossible."
"Yeah."
Mina settled back in her seat.
Jeanne stared ahead at the dark road.
After a pause, she added:
"Don't make me regret driving out here."
"No promises."
Jeanne pulled into their driveway.
Somehow, she already knew that was the wrong answer.
