The palace was far colder and far crueler than Jia had ever imagined.
In dramas, palaces were gorgeous. Red pillars, blue-glazed roof tiles, court ladies drifting through corridors like silk in slow water. But the real thing suffocated you. Take a wrong turn—get scolded. Lift your chin too high—get scolded. Walk too slowly—get scolded.
Jia had become Sowol, a lower-ranking court lady. Eighteen years old. Assigned to cleaning and running errands in Wolyeong Palace—the lowest rung on the ladder. No family, no connections, no one to speak up for her. One wrong word and she could be thrown out or beaten to death, and nobody would bat an eye.
"I'm so dead."
She stared down at her wet hands in a corner of the laundry yard.
"Completely, utterly dead."
She knew something scarier than the fact that she'd been possessed into this body. Exactly ninety days remained until Dohyun's death. According to the original story, today was the day Dohyun returned to the palace after his victory in the northern campaign. The king would praise him—and fear him in the same breath. The ministers would call him a hero while quietly sharpening their knives behind his back.
And it was on this very day that the seeds of treason were planted.
The problem was that Jia didn't remember the novel perfectly. She'd memorized every emotional beat and every swoon-worthy scene involving Dohyun, but she'd skimmed right past the political scheming.
"I only read it for the romance. Nobody told me I'd have to memorize the cabinet roster…."
A sharp voice cut through the air behind her.
"Sowol. What are you doing standing there?"
Jia spun around with a start. It was Head Court Lady Maehwa of Wolyeong Palace. She hadn't played a big role in the original story, but she ran the court ladies with an iron hand.
"I—I'm sorry."
"You were told to bring water to the Third Prince's chambers. His Highness has already returned."
"Me?"
"Who else? You think I'm going to carry it myself?"
Jia picked up the water pail and headed deeper into Wolyeong Palace. Her heart hammered with every step.
She had to meet Dohyun. No—she couldn't meet Dohyun. If she walked up to him and said *you're going to die in three months*, she'd be hauled off as a lunatic. But if she did nothing, he actually would die.
When she reached the doors of his chambers, she heard a low cough from inside.
She slid the door open carefully.
Dohyun was seated, his armor removed. A dark red stain had soaked through the shoulder of his white inner garment. No physician. No attendants. For a prince who had just returned victorious from war, his room was impossibly quiet.
Jia spoke before she could stop herself.
"You're bleeding—"
Dohyun looked up.
That gaze cut her off mid-sentence.
"Who let you in?"
"I was told to bring water, so I—"
Jia set down the pail and started to back away. But the moment Dohyun rose to his feet, his body swayed. On pure instinct, she rushed forward and grabbed his arm.
"Are you all right?"
The air in the room went still.
A lower-ranking court lady had laid hands on a prince.
That was the kind of thing you could lose your life over.
Jia yanked her hand back.
"I'm so sorry! I didn't even think—"
Dohyun studied her for a long moment. Strangely, he didn't get angry. He only asked, quietly:
"Do you know me?"
"Excuse me?"
"You are not a stranger to me. I heard your voice last night as well."
A chill ran down Jia's spine.
What Dohyun had said through the convenience store glass door.
*Did you call out to me?*
He remembered.
Jia bit her lip. She needed to say something—anything.
"I am Sowol, a lower-ranking court lady of Wolyeong Palace. I have never… met Your Highness before."
"You are a poor liar."
Dohyun moved toward her slowly. Up close, he was beautiful in a way that didn't feel entirely real. But it wasn't a warm kind of beauty. It was sharp as a blade, and lonely as ice.
"Your eyes are watching me. That is not how a court lady looks at a prince."
"Then how am I looking at you?"
Jia caught herself. Not informal speech, exactly—but the phrasing was way too modern.
Dohyun's eyes narrowed.
"Like someone who has already seen my death."
Jia stopped breathing.
He took one step closer.
"Tell me. What do you know?"
At that moment, an urgent voice came from outside the door.
"Your Highness! The Queen Dowager's quarters have sent tea."
Something flashed through Jia's mind.
Tea.
The first incident.
On the day Dohyun returned to the palace, one of his close attendants drank tea sent from the Queen Dowager's quarters—and died. In the original story, the true culprit was never found, and rumors spread through the palace that Dohyun was a dangerous man. That rumor became the first thread in the web of false charges that would eventually destroy him.
Jia turned toward the door.
A teacup rested on a silver tray.
A faint, sweet scent drifted from it.
"No."
She murmured it without thinking.
Dohyun looked at her.
"What do you mean, no?"
An attendant carried the teacup inside. Dohyun's hand moved toward it.
Jia didn't have time to think.
She lunged forward and knocked the cup away.
A sharp crash—porcelain shattering against stone. Hot tea spread across the floor. Everyone in the room froze.
The attendant shrieked.
"Have you lost your mind?! How dare you—the Prince's tea—"
Jia raised a trembling hand and pointed at the floor.
Where the tea had pooled, a small ant writhed once and went still.
Silence.
Dohyun's gaze moved from the ant on the floor to Jia.
His voice was low.
"You… knew."
Jia couldn't make herself speak.
Dohyun looked down at the shards of broken porcelain, then issued a cold command.
"Close the doors."
The attendants backed out, shaking.
The doors shut. The two of them were alone.
Dohyun stood before her, one hand pressed to his bloodied shoulder.
"I will ask you again."
His eyes fixed on her like the edge of a sword.
"How much do you know about what is coming for me?"
Jia understood then.
The original story had already begun to unravel.
And she was standing at the center of a doomed prince's fate, with no idea how to find her way back.