Silence had settled over the pavilion like still water.
Cheongya leaned against the railing, watching the pond. Across from her, a young man with blue hair stood with his arms crossed, staring her down. The wind stirred the ends of his hair, just slightly.
"I'll go get some sweets. Wait here a moment."
That was what Ihwa had said before slipping away. Since then, not a single word had passed between Cheongya and Cheonghyeon.
Cheonghyeon spoke first.
"Don't come here again."
Low and firm. Less the voice of a king than the voice of someone standing guard over something.
Cheongya turned from the railing.
"Why?"
"Are you really asking because you don't know?"
His voice was cold as frost.
"If I don't know, I can't very well stay away."
Something shifted in Cheonghyeon's eyes—barely perceptible. But his lips pressed shut, and nothing more came out. The silence frustrated her. And yet she felt it, too: that the silence held something inside it. The same way this man had pulled Ihwa against him—there was something he was trying to protect by not speaking.
"I brought the sweets."
Ihwa returned carrying a small tray. The sweets were made from dried danflowers kneaded into dough. A soft, sweet fragrance filled the pavilion.
He set the tray in front of Cheongya and smiled. The kind of smile that put people at ease.
"Sorry for the wait. I picked out the nicest-looking ones."
Cheongya took one. It was sweet—not the sweetness she'd known on the mountain, but something made from flowers.
"These are good."
Ihwa dipped his head with a small smile. Cheonghyeon glanced at Ihwa's face and went quiet. The cold edge he'd carried hadn't disappeared—but with Ihwa smiling like that, he seemed unable to say anything more.
"Do you live here alone, Ihwa?"
Cheongya asked between bites. Ihwa nodded.
"Doesn't it get lonely?"
"……No. I'm fine."
Ihwa glanced briefly at Cheonghyeon, then looked away toward the sunlight breaking apart on the surface of the pond.
"I go a little crazy when I'm bored. I thought the palace would be so big there'd be plenty of places to go—but it turns out there aren't many places I can actually go."
He looked at Cheongya. His mismatched eyes caught the light and turned translucent.
"How did you end up all the way out here?"
"I've always loved climbing over walls. Since I was little."
Cheonghyeon exhaled. Ihwa laughed softly.
"You're interesting."
An awkward silence was about to settle over the three of them again when Cheongya reached for another sweet.
"Did you make these yourself?"
"No. A friend brought them. They're really good, aren't they."
"They are."
Ihwa smiled faintly.
"Cheonghyeon's a little blunt, but he's not a bad person."
At that, Cheonghyeon turned to Ihwa with something startled in his expression.
A trace of mischief played at the corners of Ihwa's mouth.
"Oh… is that so."
Cheongya narrowed her eyes at Cheonghyeon. He turned his head and looked away.
Footsteps came fast.
Cheongya turned before Cheonghyeon did. A tall man was walking along the stone path. Brown hair tossed in the wind. Gold eyes swept the pavilion. Sharp features, a hard jaw. First impression—a wild animal.
Those fierce gold eyes landed on Cheongya and went still.
"Hyowon."
Cheonghyeon said the name. That alone brought Hyowon's shoulders down an inch.
"Her Highness, the queen consort."
Hyowon's eyes moved over Cheongya once more. Not hostility—wariness. The wariness of finding something unfamiliar beside the people he guarded, in this place.
Ihwa said, "Hyowon, do you want a sweet?"
Something shifted in Hyowon's face. The sharpness in his gold eyes softened, replaced by an awkward gentleness. Like a wild animal lowering its tail before its master.
"…Yeah."
Ihwa held a sweet up to Hyowon's mouth. Hyowon took it without protest.
Even so, the look he kept cutting toward Cheongya was sharp.
She watched and thought: *An animal. One that's been tamed by a person.* He was completely different from the man who'd walked in moments ago. His eyes, his shoulders, his voice. He only changed in front of Ihwa.
Four people sat in the pavilion. A mismatched group—a king, a queen, the king's guard, and a young man living in a nameless inner palace. But the sweet scent of danflower sweets drifted between them, and the paper cranes and butterflies hanging from the eaves swayed slowly in the wind.
The sun began to tilt.
Cheongya stood.
"I should head back. If I'm any later I'll be in trouble."
Ihwa rose with her.
"I'll walk you to the wall."
Cheonghyeon started to speak. Hyowon's eyes lifted as if he had something to say too. But Ihwa had already moved.
He stopped at the wall, as though an invisible barrier stood there.
"Come visit again."
Two words. Said lightly. With a smile. Like offering someone a cup of tea.
Cheonghyeon's mouth closed. Hyowon's eyes went to Ihwa. Ihwa wasn't looking at either of them—he was looking at Cheongya. His mismatched eyes shone clear in the afternoon light.
"Am I actually allowed to come here?"
"I'm the one inviting you. Right?"
Neither Cheonghyeon nor Hyowon said a word. With Ihwa smiling like that—there was no one in the world who could say no.
The next day.
Cheongya slipped away during the changing of the court ladies and made her way back to Suyeong Palace. New tiles had been stacked along the section of wall she'd knocked loose the day before.
This time she walked straight to the front gate. No reason to climb over anything. The pavilion was visible directly ahead.
Pale hair fanned out across the pavilion floor. Ihwa lay on his side, one arm tucked under his head, eyes closed. Paper was scattered all around him—half-folded cranes, butterflies with wings only partly creased, blank sheets not yet touched.
Cheongya's feet stopped.
He wasn't moving. She couldn't hear him breathing.
No—she could, once she got closer. Barely. A thin thread of breath slipping between his lips.
He was asleep.
She pressed a hand to her chest. Her heart had jumped a beat just now, and she felt it. Why it had—she decided not to think about.
She climbed up into the pavilion and sat across from him. She looked at his sleeping face. He seemed paler than yesterday. His lashes were long. Each time the wind passed, his pale blue hair shifted across his forehead.
"……You're really beautiful."
She said it quietly this time.
The wind nudged a sheet of paper across the floor and into her lap. A blank one. She picked it up and looked around—half-folded cranes, half-folded butterflies. She traced the shapes with her eyes and moved her hands.
A crane. The wings were crooked, but it was a crane.
She folded another. A butterfly. Better this time.
One more. Then another.
She was still folding when Ihwa opened his eyes.
His gaze found her. Then the paper crane in her hands. Then the cranes and butterflies she'd folded, arranged around her.
Cheongya tucked the crane behind her back.
"I'm sorry—I touched your paper without asking. I was bored and I just—"
Ihwa sat up. He picked up one of the cranes she'd made. The wings were uneven, the neck tilted to one side. He looked at it for a long moment.
"You folded this well."
"……You're lying."
"I mean it. This is your first time, isn't it?"
"Yes……"
"For a first try, this is impressive. Hyowon still can't do it even after I've shown him."
Ihwa smiled. Different from the still, quiet face he'd worn while sleeping. His eyes narrowed, his cheeks lifted just slightly.
Cheongya felt heat rise in her face. She couldn't tell if she was embarrassed or happy.
"……Want me to show you another one?"
Ihwa picked up a fresh sheet of paper. His fingers were long and slender. The motion of folding it in half was slow and precise.
Cheongya nodded and shifted closer.
The wind moved across the pond. A paper butterfly trembled on the water's surface. Two people sat side by side in the pavilion, folding paper.
In a palace where no one came, an afternoon that held a third set of footprints.