Orla:

  I stayed curled up in the corner, listening to the king snore. The sound rattled through the chamber, uneven and guttural, a reminder of just how out of place I was. I had no idea what to do next. Sleep had come in fitful bursts, but every time I drifted off, his constant tossing and turning jolted me awake.

  What was I supposed to do? If I tried to leave, the guards would surely stop me.

  The king sprawled across the bed, his face half-buried in a pillow, mouth slack with drool pooling at the corner. Snoring loud enough to shake the walls. This was supposed to be a ruler? This Logan look-alike was meant to be my future?

  The thought was almost laughable. This was the same man who had slurred something about how “beautiful” I was before passing out on top of me last night. I had barely managed to roll him off before he collapsed into a drunken stupor, leaving me trapped here.

  My stomach twisted. Was this really happening? Was I supposed to—what? Be with him? Pretend I belonged here?

  I pushed to my feet, stepping closer for a better look. And that’s when the realization hit me. He wasn’t just a bad memory—he was unattractive. Bloated, slack-jawed, the kind of face that sagged in all the wrong places. His breath reeked of alcohol even from where I stood. How had I ever fallen for someone like him back in the real world?

  I shook my head. I didn’t have time for this.

  A sharp knock at the door made me jump.

  “General Sakurai Haruto is here to meet with the king!” a voice announced, firm and authoritative.

  Panic shot through me. A general? Here? If the king woke up like this… no, I couldn’t be seen. I had to hide.

  But before I could move, the door slid open.

  “You’re high—“

  The man stopped short the moment he saw me.

  I froze.

  This wasn’t just any general. He looked like something out of a war epic—sharp, powerful, built like a warrior. And not a Korean one. His katana told me that much. Japanese? But how?

  He bowed, precise and controlled. “Your Ladyship. My apologies.”

  My voice stuck in my throat.

  Before I could respond, Gyeong swept in with a group of maids at her heels. Relief flooded me.

  “Your ladyship, I’m here to escort you back to your room.” She moved quickly, motioning for the others to adjust my dress and veil. “The general is here for a meeting with the king. It is not appropriate for you to be seen.”

  The maids fussed over me, smoothing fabric, pulling my veil into place, straightening my robes. Not that it mattered—the general had already seen me. But I didn’t argue.

  As they led me away, I stole one last glance at the king. Still snoring. Still oblivious.

  A bitter taste filled my mouth.

  ***

  Back in my chambers, the weight of my new reality pressed down on me. The maids worked quickly, stripping off the heavy ceremonial robes and replacing them with something lighter. They adjusted every fold with quiet precision.

  Gyeong stood by the window, watching the courtyard. Her face was unreadable, calm as ever.

  After a long silence, she finally turned to me. “How was the night?”

  I hesitated, bracing for a lecture. How was I supposed to explain that nothing happened? That the king had passed out before he could even try? My voice came out quieter than I intended. “It was.. uneventful.”

  To my surprise, Gyeong didn’t seem shocked. She just sighed. “Typical.”

  “Typical?” I frowned.

  She nodded, arms crossing as she stepped closer. “The king has many wives. Some, he never even bothers with. He loses interest fast. Once that happens, they’re locked away in their quarters, forgotten for however long he decides. I fear that may be your fate as well.”

  I stared at her. Wait—what? Was that supposed to be my life now? Trapped in this room until the king decided otherwise?

  “No,” I said, firmer than I expected. “That won’t happen to me.”

  Gyeong raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what makes you think you’ll be any different?”

  “I won’t let myself be trapped here. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t understand how things work here, Your Ladyship. It’s not up to you.”

  Before I could argue, the door slid open with force.

  The queen—Na-rae Cheon—stormed in, her face twisted with rage. No matter how much I learned about her, all I could see was Anna, the bridesmaid who had ruined my life. Her maids scurried behind her, pale-faced and struggling to keep up.

  “You!” she spat, pointing a trembling finger at me. “You think you can steal my king? Take what’s mine?”

  I stepped back, caught off guard. “I didn’t—“

  “Silence!” she screeched, closing the distance between us. “It’s your fault! All of this is your fault!”

  I barely had time to process her accusations before she raised her hand to strike me. Instinct kicked in—I caught her wrist mid-swing.

  The room fell into stunned silence.

  Anna’s eyes widened in shock, then darkened with rage as she tried to yank free.

  I didn’t let go. I met her glare head-on. “How is this my fault? I didn’t ask for this. I was forced into this marriage. To sleep with him.”

  Her lips curled in a sneer. For a second, I thought she’d try to hit me again, but instead, she tore her arm free, seething.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  She turned to Gyeong. “You were ordered not to bring her to his chambers.”

  “The king insisted.”

  “I don’t care. I have command over the ladies-in-waiting. You are no exception. Your orders come from me.”

  Gyeong’s voice was steady. “Apologies, Your Highness, but the king’s orders override yours when required.”

  The queen’s nostrils flared. She shot me one last look of pure venom.

  “You’ll regret this,” she hissed before spinning on her heel and storming out. Her maids scrambled after her.

  I’ll regret this? How was this my fault? How was any of this my fault?

  The moment she was gone, my legs gave out. I collapsed onto the nearest cushion, hands trembling. My heart pounded, my mind racing to catch up with what just happened.

  Gyeong knelt beside me, pressing a cloth into my hand. “Ignore her,” she said softly. “She does this with every consort—a little reminder to put them in their place.”

  I swallowed hard. “You’re telling me this is going to happen all the time?”

  She sighed, shaking her head. “Not always. She makes her rounds, but not every consort gets her morning visits. There are twelve of them, after all. But since you’re the newest…” She trailed off before glancing toward the door, as if checking to see if anyone was listening.

  She lowered her voice. “It wasn’t always like this. Before the king started taking on so many wives, it was the consorts who went to him—they had to wait for his summons, hoping for his favor. But over time, he lost interest, kept them confined to their quarters, rarely calling for any of them.”

  Her lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s when the queen started making her rounds instead—a little show of power, a reminder that she’s still the one who matters most. If the king won’t look at them, then she makes sure they remember who rules this palace.”

  Twelve?

  My stomach lurched. Of course, this was based on ancient Korea. Kings had multiple wives. It was normal.

  But still—twelve?

  I exhaled shakily, trying to process it all. It didn’t make the ache in my chest any less sharp. The thought of eventually becoming just another forgotten consort, locked away and waiting for a summons that might never come, sent a cold dread creeping through me.

  If they were all confined… that could be me next.

  Without a word, Gyeong reached for a small bowl filled with that awful brown medicine. She’d been giving it to me since the day I woke up here, forcing it down my throat no matter how much I protested. Supposedly, it was meant to help me get better. But I only felt worse.

  My stomach twisted just looking at it.

  “Drink up,” Gyeong said, pushing the bowl toward me. “You won’t get better if you don’t.”

  I stared at the murky liquid, bile already rising in my throat. “I don’t think it’s helping,” I muttered.

  Her expression hardened. “You must. The king will come around soon.”

  The king.

  The thought of seeing his face—Logan’s face—again made my skin crawl. My stomach lurched, the medicine’s bitter smell not making anything better. But I didn’t have a choice. Gyeong wouldn’t let me leave this room until I drank it.

  Reluctantly, I lifted the bowl and forced the vile liquid down. It burned as it slid down my throat, making me shudder.

  “A new day awaits,” Gyeong said, as if that was something to look forward to.

  I just wanted to disappear.

  Then, her hand tapped me on my shoulder—a silent signal to stand. Slowly, I pushed myself up, letting the maids fuss over me again. They adjusted my robes, tightened my sash, fixed my hair. Every detail had to be perfect.

  The hanbok weighed on me, the layers stiff and suffocating. There was no time to think. No space to breathe. Every second was accounted for—servants watching, hands fixing, voices instructing. I felt like a puppet, pulled in every direction, never allowed a moment of freedom.

  And yet, despite all of it, my eyes kept drifting to the mirror.

  At first, it was nothing. A flicker. A trick of the light.

  Then it happened again.

  My reflection wavered.

  The palace walls vanished in the background.

  Suddenly, I wasn’t standing in my chambers anymore. I was back in Nara’s bathroom. White tiles. Steam clinging to the glass. A towel wrapped around my chest.

  I knew this moment.

  I stared, heart pounding. Something about it felt… wrong. Like I was watching myself from the outside, but there was something I needed to see.

  Then it hit me—Logan. The phone.

  My breath caught. I reached out, pressing my fingertips to the glass.

  The panic in her eyes mirrored my own.

  But before I could do anything else, reality snapped back. I barely had a second to process what I’d seen before a voice beyond the paper doors announced, “His Majesty, the king, followed by General Haruto.”

  My body tensed, the memory of last night’s drunken mess still fresh. But as the doors slid open, my breath hitched.

  This wasn’t the slobbering fool who had passed out next to me.

  No—this man was something else entirely. Magnificent.

  It was Logan’s face, but sharper, more regal. His posture commanded authority, every movement deliberate. The robes draped over him weren’t crumpled like last night’s but close—each fold tailored to exude power, like he’d been sculpted to rule.

  And then, at his right—General Sakai Haruto.

  My breath caught again. The armor, the sleek overlapping plates, the craftsmanship—it was undeniably Japanese. Every inch of him looked like something out of legend, a warrior carved from myth.

  He was even more magnetic than this morning. A quiet force that demanded attention. The sharp angles of his jaw, the cold focus in his gaze—he was beautiful, but not in a soft way. It was power and precision, the kind that made the air hum around him.

  And yet, something about him tugged at me. A familiarity I couldn’t place. I knew it was impossible, but the feeling lingered, like a whisper at the edge of my mind.

  Gyeong’s urgent voice snapped me back.

  “Bow,” she hissed.

  I blinked.

  Everyone was already pressed to the ground, their foreheads nearly touching the floor.

  My stomach dropped. The king’s eyes were on me.

  Heat crawled up my neck as panic surged through me. Instinctively, my gaze flickered to the mirror.

  Was it still there? The strange reflection?

  Gone.

  The moment had vanished, leaving me with nothing but the weight of the king’s gaze.

  Heart pounding, I scrambled into a bow, pressing my forehead to the cool floor, hands trembling against the surface. I prayed I hadn’t drawn too much attention.

  The room shifted. The king stepped inside, his robes rustling as he moved. The weight of his presence filled the space. With a flick of his hand, he dismissed the servants. Only Gyeong remained, moving smoothly to pour tea, her face calm as ever.

  The quiet stretched.

  The king took his seat at the low table—the place that had been mine, but now, with him here, I was nothing more than a guest. He settled in, his gaze locking onto me with a knowing smile.

  “Good morning,” he said smoothly, as if we were simply lovers waking in the same bed. “How are you feeling, my lady?”

  I forced a smile, resting my hands awkwardly in my lap. “I’m fine,” I said curtly, keeping my gaze low.

  My stomach churned. My mind raced.

  The king tilted his head, studying me. “You seem tense.” He leaned in, his voice lowering, intimate. “Perhaps tonight, we can remedy that. Will you join me again?”

  His words sent a shiver down my spine. I didn’t want to answer.

  I glanced at Gyeong. She was already looking at me, giving me the slightest nod.

  I had no choice.

  My throat tightened. “Yes,” I said quietly.

  The king’s smile widened, pleased. “Good.” He lifted his tea, sipping slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.

  The silence in the room thickened, pressing against me like a weight.

  My gaze drifted to General Sakai Haruto. He was kneeling on a pillow at the side of the room, motionless. A silent shadow.

  His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, his posture rigid, ready. His eyes, though, were somewhere else—fixed on a point beyond the walls. Avoiding me.

  A strange pang of curiosity twisted in my gut. Why wouldn’t he look at me?

  Before I could think too deeply, the king’s voice pulled me back.

  “Thank you for the tea, my lady,” he said, setting his cup down. He stood, his smile still in place, but there was an edge to it—something more like control than warmth.

  “I still have rounds to make with the others,” he added, like it was an afterthought. “But don’t worry—you’re my favorite.” He winked.

  The words made my stomach drop.

  He bowed slightly, a formality rather than sincerity, then turned to leave. Gyeong moved to escort him, and I quickly lowered into a deep bow, forehead to the floor.

  I stayed there, heart pounding.

  I didn’t look up as the king stepped out, General Haruto following close behind. But even without seeing, I could feel the general’s presence—silent, imposing.

  The door slid shut behind them and only then did I slowly straighten, my heart still racing.

  The room felt heavy, like the walls were closing in.

  The thought of returning to the king’s chambers tonight sent a wave of dread through me. His smile, his charm—it was all a game. And I was just a piece on the board.

  Too familiar.

  I’d been here before. Not in a palace, not dressed in silk, but trapped all the same.

  Logan had played the same game—sweet words, easy smiles, always in control. And I had fallen for it, believing I mattered, believing I was different.

  But in the end, I was nothing to him. Just a means to an end.

  Logan had never loved me—just the idea of me, the convenience of having me there. And now, staring down the same fate in this palace, I felt that same hollow ache settle in my chest.

  The king’s charm, his calculated smiles, the way he claimed me with words—it was all the same. A performance.

  But this time, I saw through it.

  And this time, I wouldn’t let myself be used.

  ?Sky Mincharo