Chapter 14: Ripples in the Court

I used to think silence was peaceful.

Back home, silence was a break, an escape from the endless noise of Seoul. The Solitude of the museum hall used to soothe me. But here…in Eldrath, silence weighed different. It wasn't rest. It was tension. Eyes followed me now. Not the curious stares from when I first arrived these were different. They stripped me down without a word.

I noticed it after the Festival of Moons, though maybe it started even before. Lady Elarin had warned me, in that low voice of hers: "The court watches like a hawk circling prey. You've flown too close to the sun, Minjae."

She didn't have to say more. The message was clear: my presence, once an oddity, was now a threat and I had felt it especially after that encounter in the archives. The Prince had found me there, breaking into sacred records like some reckless trespasser. He hadn't raised his voice. He didn't need to.

"Stay out of trouble." His words still echoed in my head, cold and clipped. Like I was a liability he couldn't afford. It had stung more than I cared to admit.

Now, the palace walls seemed taller. I avoided the central corridors when I could, skirting the edges like a shadow. Still, it didn't stop the whispers. I'd catch pieces of conversation as I passed mid-sentence, voices dropping to murmurs. Sometimes followed by tight-lipped smiles or expressions that didn't bother pretending at all.

This morning, a tray had arrived at my room. Silver. Polished. A cloth napkin folded neatly beside a cup of rose tea and

A mourning lily. Dried, Small and Pale .

I'd seen one just like it tucked behind a servant's ear during a procession for a fallen soldier. Was this a joke? A warning?? I hadn't touched the tray. My stomach twisted too tightly to eat anyway.

By mid-morning, I found myself standing before the tall doors of the inner court chamber. I hadn't been summoned but I wasn't exactly free to wander elsewhere either. Lady Elarin had advised me to show face, "to let them see you are not afraid." Easy for her to say. She wasn't the outsider in a foreign kingdom, wrapped in prophecies she hadn't asked for but she wasn't exactly wrong either.

The guards flanking the entrance didn't speak as they opened the doors. Their silence said enough.

Inside, the chamber buzzed with activity. Nobles in jewel-toned robes stood in tight clusters, murmuring behind fans or sipping from slender glasses. It was beautiful, in a way like something painted in a gilded storybook. But I couldn't feel wonder anymore. Only eyes.

I took a step inside. Conversations faltered. Heads turned. I suddenly became very aware of my clothing, simple compared to theirs. My steps echoed too loudly.

I made my way to a corner where sunlight from a stained-glass window spilled across the marble floor. It was the quietest part of the room. Or it had been until two figures broke from a group near the dais and approached.

"Ah," said the taller man, a noble I vaguely recognized from the festival. His voice was honeyed and sharp. "The outsider graces us with his presence."

I gave a polite nod. "Good morning."

He smiled thinly. "Quite the bold step, attending court without a title. Or an escort." His companion a younger man with copper hair tilted his head. "Perhaps he thinks prophecy grants immunity."

"Tell me," the tall one continued, "is it true you come from another world? Some tale of mirrors and stars?" He chuckled. "Most imaginative."

I forced a smile. "I don't think I'm the first to be called strange here." His eyes narrowed. "But you may be the first whose strangeness invites consequence." Before I could answer, another voice cut in. Cool. Firm.

"Lord Calreth, I wasn't aware you'd been appointed royal interrogator."

The nobles stiffened. So did I.

Lady Elarin stepped between us, calm and composed in dark sapphire robes, her gaze sharp. "I believe His Highness made it clear that Lord Minjae is not to be harassed."

Lord Calreth gave a shallow bow. "Of course, my lady. Just curiosity."

"Curiosity," she said smoothly, "has a cost in this court.

They left without another word.

I exhaled slowly, shoulders tight. Lady Elarin turned to me. "They're testing you. You must not falter."

"I didn't even say anything."

"Exactly." She looked toward the door. "And they noticed."

—

The nobles resumed their murmuring, but it wasn't hard to guess who their words circled around like carrion birds. My fingers itched to reach for something. But all I had was a folded scrap of parchment tucked in my sleeve, a copied fragment of the prophecy I'd read in the archives

I hadn't slept properly since I'd read those lines. Because it was about me. Or so they said.

I wasn't born here. I had no lineage, no crest, no bloodline blessed by Elyndra's gods. I couldn't wield magic. I didn't even understand half of the rituals they performed and yet some ancient verse had painted me into its lines long before I existed.

I closed my eyes for a moment, listening to the rhythm of the chamber. The rise and fall of noble voices, the clink of goblets. My fingers brushed the mourning lily I'd kept hidden in my coat pocket.

I should've left. But then I felt it. The room dipped into hush as Prince Eryndor entered. I didn't have to look to know it was him. His presence filled the space before he stepped into it, Intense.

He wore navy and silver, his black hair pulled back, his expression unreadable. He was flanked by two guards and an elder noble I hadn't seen before. His eyes swept the chamber, and then stopped.

We stared across the polished floor. Not long. But I felt it the pull. He turned his head and walked past me as if I didn't exist. And yet… I had existed in his gaze for a moment too long.

How could someone look at you for barely a second and make you feel simultaneously seen and dissected? As though your every intention, every flaw, every secret was laid bare beneath those cold eyes?

I turned toward one of the stained-glass windows, pretending to study its intricate arcs. Gold and amethyst light spilled across the marble floor, catching the gleam of the prince's armor as he conversed with advisors by the throne dais.

From this angle, I could only glimpse the back of him, the sharp cut of his shoulders, the fluid grace in how he moved.

A sudden hush cut through the air again.

I turned to see a noblewoman bow deeply before the prince. She murmured something I couldn't hear but he didn't smile. Just listened, then turned and left through the eastern corridor, his dark cape flaring slightly as he moved.

A ripple of murmurs followed in his wake. "He's never this tense unless war is on the table," someone whispered nearby. "Or prophecy," said another.

I pushed off the wall, suddenly cold. No one stopped me as I walked out of the court chamber, but I felt the weight of unspoken words trail after me.

Once outside, I leaned against a pillar and stared up at the palace arches. This place wasn't home. It wasn't safety. But it was watching me. And so was he.

—