Milo:

  The sun barely peeked through the paper windows of Sang-min’s place, casting weak light across the small room. I hadn’t slept much—spent the night tossing and turning, my head filled with thoughts of Orla. Her face, her voice, the way we just clicked on that flight. It wouldn’t stop replaying in my mind. It was driving me insane.

  The smell of rice porridge drifted in from the other room, but I wasn’t hungry. My stomach was a knot, twisting tighter with every hour that passed without her.

  I forced myself up, my body stiff. These floors weren’t exactly soft, but that was the least of my worries. Orla was out there, and I had no idea what was happening to her. That thought alone made me restless, like I was trapped in my own skin.

  I heard Sang-min moving around in the other room, going about his morning like nothing was wrong. That only made me more frustrated. How could he be so unaffected? How could he just act normal?

  I stepped into the common area, where he sat cross-legged, scooping porridge into bowls like it was any other day. He barely looked up.

  "Rough night?" he asked, still focused on the food. "You look like hell."

  I sat down across from him, not bothering to hide my irritation. "Gee, wonder why."

  He didn’t react, just pushed a bowl toward me. "I told you. Rushing in won’t help. You need a plan. Eat. You’ll need your strength if you’re serious about finding Orla."

  I stared at the bowl. I didn’t want food—I wanted action. But I couldn’t run on an empty stomach either, so I grabbed the spoon and took a bite, barely tasting it.

  After a few minutes of silence, I had enough. "So what’s the plan? How do we get to the palace?"

  Sang-min didn’t answer right away. He took another bite, chewing like he had all the time in the world. Finally, he set his spoon down and sighed.

  "The palace isn’t something you just stroll into," he said. "It’s heavily guarded. Without the right connections, you won’t even make it past the outer gates."

  I frowned. "So, it’s impossible?"

  "Didn’t say that." He leaned back, arms crossed. "I said you need help."

  I exhaled sharply, trying to keep my patience. "Okay. So do you know anyone who can get us inside?"

  Sang-min studied me for a second, then nodded. "There’s a guy. Kang Won-ki. Merchant with ties to the palace. But he doesn’t do favors for free."

  I latched onto that. "Money’s not an issue. I’ll figure it out."

  Not that I actually had any money here, but I figured there had to be something I could trade. If history had taught me anything, bartering worked better than currency in some places.

  Sang-min smirked. "It’s not about money. Won-ki helps people when it benefits him. You’ll have to convince him it’s worth his time."

  I sat back, nodding slowly. "Where do I find him?"

  "The market. He deals in rare goods. But don’t expect him to welcome you with open arms. You’ll need to give him a reason to help."

  "Fine." I was already thinking ahead. "I’ll give him a reason."

  Sang-min raised a brow. "Just don’t go in desperate. He’ll see it and use it against you."

  I nodded, swallowing my frustration. Truth was, I was desperate. Orla was out there, and every second wasted felt like a mistake.

  Sang-min went back to eating, unfazed. Meanwhile, I was practically buzzing with the need to move. I couldn’t just sit here.

  I cleared my throat. "What about you? You coming with me?"

  Sang-min took his time finishing his food, wiped his mouth, then sighed. "I’ll take you to Kang Won-ki," he said. "But after that, you’re on your own."

  My jaw clenched. "I am?"

  "I got you this far. But at the end of the day, I’m just a rice farmer. The palace? The king? That’s not my fight."

  I scoffed. "Right. Because most rice farmers know how to fight like you do."

  For a second, he didn’t say anything. Then, quietly, "There are things beyond those palace walls I have no interest in seeing again." He shook his head, as if shaking off the thought. "But that’s not your concern. I’ll help you connect with the jeweler, but that’s it."

  I frowned. "Jeweler?"

  "Won-ki. He’s a master craftsman. Works with gold, silver, intricate designs. Good with locks." He hesitated for a split second before muttering, "And maybe lockpicks."

  I narrowed my eyes. "What was that?"

  "Nothing." He waved it off. "Just finish your food. I’ll pack you something for the road."

  Not the answer I wanted. I hated the idea of doing this alone, but I had to accept it. Sang-min wasn’t Yoo. He wasn’t my friend. He owed me nothing. Still, his fighting skills could’ve been useful, but he had no interest in the palace, like he’d been there before. Whatever his reasons, I wasn’t going to push. This was my fight, not his.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  We ate in silence. When we finished, Sang-min stood, grabbed his satchel, and stretched. "The market will be packed. Stay close. Won-ki’s stall isn’t easy to find."

  I got up, my mind already racing ahead to what I’d say to this guy. I didn’t care what I had to do—I’d find a way to get to Orla.

  ***

  The marketplace was buzzing with energy—vendors shouting, people haggling, the smell of food thick in the air. It was the kind of place that felt alive, but I wasn’t here for that. My mind was locked on one thing: getting into the palace.

  Sang-min moved through the crowd like he owned the place. I just tried to keep up, dodging kids and carts piled with vegetables.

  “There,” Sang-min said, nodding toward a stall tucked between two others.

  I followed his gaze and nearly stopped in my tracks.

  No way.

  The guy standing behind the stall looked exactly like Jae-sung—my bandmate. Same sharp jawline, same cocky grin. Except Jae-sung wouldn’t be caught dead selling fancy hairpins in a marketplace.

  “That’s Won-ki?” I muttered.

  Sang-min nodded. “That’s him. Let’s go.”

  As we approached, Won-ki’s smirk widened. “Sang-min! Been a while. Looking to buy something nice?” He waved a hand over the table of binyeos—ornate hairpins, way too fancy for me.

  I wasn’t here to shop.

  “I need to get into the palace,” I said, cutting to the chase.

  Won-ki’s smirk faltered for half a second before sliding back into place. He glanced at Sang-min, then at me, sizing me up. “Well, someone’s not wasting time,” he said, leaning back. “You must be new around here.”

  “Yeah, you could say that,” I muttered, already impatient. “Can you help or not?”

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “Where did you find this kid?” he asked Sang-min before looking back at me. “Getting into the palace isn’t like walking into a market stall, kid. It’s risky, and it’s not free.”

  “I’m not worried about the cost,” I said, crossing my arms. “Just tell me what you want.”

  Sang-min elbowed me. “You’re coming off desperate. Keep it casual.”

  I ignored him. I didn’t have time for games.

  Won-ki studied me, his smirk widening. “Hmm. Well, since you’re not here to shop, and judging by that wardrobe, you look like a rogue soldier on his own agenda. I’m guessing you don’t have money.”

  “What do you mean, rogue soldier?”

  “I’ve seen it before—royal guards, servants, anyone who disobeys the king or gets banished. You don’t exactly scream nobility.”

  “Where I’m from is none of your business.”

  “True. But your reason for sneaking into the palace is. If this is about revenge or a coup, I want no part of it.”

  Sang-min cut in. “His woman was taken by the Black Lotus.”

  That got Won-ki’s attention. He leaned back against the wooden frame of his stall, eyes narrowing. “Oh, I see. A lovestruck fool chasing after his lost love?”

  I sighed. “Not exactly.”

  Sang-min chuckled. “Who are you trying to convince? You’re going through a lot of trouble for her.”

  Won-ki let out a low whistle. “Well, that makes things more interesting.” He crossed his arms. “I don’t want your money, then.”

  “Then what do you want?” I asked, forcing back my irritation. Orla was stuck in that palace, and I didn’t have time for riddles.

  Won-ki tapped his chin like he was thinking it over. “There’s another way to get in. I have a kitchen knife the palace chef has been eyeing. It’s top-quality, imported from Japan.” He pulled out a leather pouch, shaped perfectly for a butcher’s knife. “This is your way in. The palace kitchens are always hiring, but the job’s brutal. High turnover. If you take this knife, you go in posing as a new recruit, say you’re there to trade the knife for a shot at working under the head chef, Oh Kyung-ho. He’s strict, but he won’t turn away good steel. Once you’re in, you learn the palace layout. And from there? You figure out how to save your girl.”

  I stared at the knife, but my mind caught on something else.

  High turnover? In the palace kitchens?

  That didn’t make sense. From what little I remembered about Korean history palace kitchens were mostly run by women. Men working in them wasn’t unheard of, but it definitely wasn’t common. And getting a job in the palace? That was supposed to be damn near impossible. Most positions were either passed down through families or took years of training.

  And yet, somehow, the palace kitchens were desperate for new hires—and the head chef was a man.

  None of this makes sense.

  History here didn’t match anything I knew. But here I was, stuck in some twisted version of it, being told I could stroll into the palace with nothing but a knife and a flimsy cover story.

  Still, what other choice did I have?

  I reached for the knife, but Won-ki pulled it back.

  “But like I said. This isn’t free. You need to get me something in return.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What?”

  His smirk deepened. “The queen’s golden hairpin.”

  I blinked. “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  I laughed. “Just a hairpin?”

  Won-ki’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it darkened. “You think it’s easy? I’ve sent others in before. Not one of them came back.”

  My amusement disappeared. “Wait, what?”

  Won-ki shrugged. “That’s right. But don’t worry. I have my ways to find you if you don’t pay up.”

  A threat. Subtle, but definitely there.

  I glanced at Sang-min, who just gave me a nonchalant shrug.

  I clenched my jaw. I didn’t like this. None of it. But what choice did I have? I wasn’t about to pass up this chance to save Orla.

  “Fine,” I said, exhaling sharply. “I’ll get the hairpin.”

  Won-ki’s grin widened. “Good. Then we have a deal.”

  I shook his hand, his grip firm, his eyes gleaming with something that made me uneasy.

  “There’s a guard at the service entrance—Tae-shik. Works nights. Tell him the Trickster sent you.”

  I frowned. “Trickster?”

  “That’s me,” Won-ki said, looking amused. “Tae-shik will understand.”

  I didn’t like the way he was enjoying this, but I had no choice.

  I let out a slow breath. “Alright. I’ll wait until nightfall.”

  “One more thing,” I added. “What’s my deadline?”

  “A fortnight,” Won-ki said. “Enough time to establish yourself in the kitchens and figure out how to get that pin.”

  I exhaled sharply. “That’s generous.”

  Won-ki smirked. “I like to think so.”

  He clapped me on the shoulder. “Good luck, kid.”

  I hated being called that, but I let it go.

  With the knife secured, I headed back to Sang-min’s to get Raven. The road ahead felt better than the eerie forests we’d crossed. No lurking bandits, just people going about their day.

  Sang-min stood beside me, arms crossed. “Well, this is it.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered. “Thanks for not ditching me back there.”

  He shrugged. “Won-ki’s a trickster, but he doesn’t break deals. My advice? Be careful. What he’s asking for is dangerous.”

  “You think? I’m about to steal from the royal palace.”

  “You’re braver than I’d ever be.”

  I took a breath. “Take care, Sang-min.”

  “Good luck,” he said. “You’ll need it.”

  I gave a short laugh. “Don’t remind me.”

  With that, he turned and disappeared into his hanok. I nudged Raven forward, heading toward the palace. Every step took me closer to Orla. Closer to something bigger than I was ready for.

  I leaned down, patting Raven’s neck. “We’ll get there, buddy. Just a little longer.”

  The palace was still half a day’s ride from Seongjin-ri, its towering silhouette just a shadow in the distance. Whatever was inside, I’d deal with it. I had no choice. But this wasn’t just about Orla anymore. I had a deadline, and the Trickster was watching. One misstep, and this wouldn’t just be about rescuing her—it’d be about surviving myself.

  But Orla was out there. And I wasn’t about to let her down.

  ?Sky Mincharo