After Jia was moved to the room beside Dohyun's quarters, she spent every day feeling like she was being watched.
Because she was.
Baek Gyeom had assigned guards to her openly, and Head Court Lady Maehwa recorded her every move. The court ladies from the Queen Dowager's quarters shot her dirty looks whenever they passed. Even the kitchen women whispered the moment they saw her.
"She's the girl the third prince took in."
"They say she spotted the poisoned tea before anyone else."
"You think she's some kind of shaman?"
"No. More like a demon."
Jia set her chopsticks down mid-meal.
"A demon? That's a bit much. I was a convenience store night-shift worker."
Nobody understood a word of it, of course.
Dohyun grew quieter than before. He stopped asking her questions. Instead, he kept her where he could see her at all times—when he reviewed documents in the archive room, when he inspected his bow in the garden, when he held brief meetings with his advisors. Jia was always nearby.
Like a man trying to keep the unknown future tethered right in front of his eyes.
Jia found it uncomfortable.
And, just a little, heartbreaking.
That afternoon, Dohyun was at the practice range. His military command had been stripped away, but the discipline carved into his body didn't stop. He drew the bowstring in silence. Every arrow hit dead center.
Baek Gyeom spoke quietly beside her.
"His Highness barely slept during the northern campaign. He hasn't rested since returning to the palace, either."
"Why not?"
"He said resting gives him too much time to think."
Jia watched Dohyun. The perfect male lead. The cold prince readers had fallen in love with. But the real version of him wasn't cold because he was perfect. He'd made himself cold so he wouldn't fall apart.
Then Dohyun lowered his bow.
"Sowol."
"Yes."
"Have you ever held a bow?"
"No."
"Then learn."
"Me?"
"Even if you can see danger coming, it means nothing if you can't protect yourself."
The words were cold. But underneath them was worry.
Dohyun stood behind her and showed her how to hold the bow. Jia could barely breathe—his warmth was close enough to brush her back. His hand closed over her wrist and adjusted her grip.
"Relax your arm."
"If I relax, I feel like I'll drop it."
"Trust it and pull."
"Pull what?"
Dohyun paused.
"The bow."
Jia's face went hot. Great. This is dangerous. Any self-respecting romantic fantasy reader would have her heart racing right now—but Jia was not supposed to have a racing heart.
The arrow buried itself in the dirt beside a wooden post. Not even close to the target.
Baek Gyeom worked very hard to keep his expression neutral.
Dohyun said quietly, "No talent whatsoever."
"It's my first time."
"First-timers with talent still hit the mark."
"Your Highness, that is genuinely cruel."
The words were out before she could stop them. But Dohyun didn't get angry. Instead, he laughed—just barely, just for a second.
It was so rare that Jia couldn't say a single thing.
Baek Gyeom went rigid.
Dohyun seemed to realize he'd done it, and wiped the expression away immediately.
"Again."
That day, Jia drew the bow until her arms gave out. She didn't hit the target once. But somehow, strangely, she felt a little lighter.
The calm didn't last.
By evening, new word had spread through the palace. The king's second son—the Silver Prince, Doyun Lee—was coming to Wolyeong Palace.
The moment Jia heard the name, she tensed.
Doyun Lee.
In the original story, the half-brother who most openly worked against Dohyun. Cheerful and easygoing on the surface, but driven underneath by a hunger for the throne. He was deeply connected to the faction that would frame Dohyun for treason.
In person, Doyun was just as dazzling as the novel described. Crimson silk robes, a gold-fitted sash, the easy confidence of a man who smiled at everyone. He swept into Wolyeong Palace with his arms open wide.
"Little brother! The hero of the north, resting in a palace this modest—it breaks my heart."
Dohyun gave a single bow of his head.
"I greet the Silver Prince."
"What's with the formality between brothers?"
Doyun's gaze landed directly on Jia.
"And is this the court lady everyone's been talking about?"
Jia lowered her head.
"I am called Sowol."
"Look up."
She raised her head slowly. Doyun studied her face, then smiled.
"Not exactly pretty—but those eyes are strange. Like someone who thinks she knows everything."
Dohyun stepped forward.
"She is my court lady."
"I know. That's exactly why I'm curious."
Doyun reached into his robe and produced a small box.
"I brought a gift to celebrate my brother's return from the war."
Inside the box was a pair of white silk gloves. They looked ordinary enough. But the moment Jia saw them, her skin crawled.
In the original story, these were among the evidence of treason found in Dohyun's chambers.
White gloves sent by northern commanders as a pledge of loyalty.
Fabricated. Every bit of it.
Jia moved to step forward—and Dohyun closed the box first.
"I will not accept it."
Doyun's smile stiffened.
"Why not?"
Dohyun glanced briefly at Jia.
"I've been having bad dreams."
Jia held her breath.
He was using her words. For the first time—not as a shield, but as a weapon.
Doyun laughed slowly.
"Dreams. So the rumors are true—my brother has started putting stock in a court lady's visions."
He tucked the box back into his robe. As he passed Jia, he dropped his voice to barely a whisper.
"Dream too much, and you might not wake up."
That night, Jia couldn't sleep.
The bronze mirror was silent. Instead, she heard an unfamiliar presence outside her window. The moment she opened the door, a dark shape vanished over the rooftop.
On the ground lay a small scrap of cloth.
White silk.
The same material as the gloves.
Written on it in red:
— The more you interfere, the more he dies because of you.
Jia clutched the cloth in her fist.
Behind her, Dohyun's voice came.
"What did you see this time?"
She turned around.
He was standing in the moonlight. Something in his eyes was unsteady in a way she hadn't seen before.
"Tell me, Sowol."
For the first time, it didn't sound like an order. It sounded like a plea.
"Don't leave me alone in this. Not this time."
Something in Jia nearly broke.
A feeling the original story never had was taking root.
And that feeling was putting them both in danger.