Tawan:

Being a doctor was hard work.

Being a handsome, overworked, and severely underappreciated doctor was even harder.

I yawned as I trudged through the hospital hallways, my scrubs slightly wrinkled, my brain running on one hour of sleep and pure caffeine. It had been a brutal shift—sixteen hours of diagnosing, running between emergency cases, and resisting the urge to throw my stethoscope at annoying patients who thought Google knew more than me.

I checked my watch. 7:30 PM.

"Finally," I muttered. Freedom.

As I headed toward the exit, a familiar voice called out behind me.

"Dr. Tawan!"

I turned to see Nadia, one of the nurses, jogging toward me with an amused smile.

“You’re off-duty, right?” she asked.

I nodded. “And heading straight to the bar.”

She smirked. “To unwind, or to hit on someone?”

I placed a hand on my chest, feigning offense. “Excuse me. I am a professional, respectable man. I would never—”

“—flirt with someone while giving them medical advice?”

“…Okay, I might do that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just don’t come back with a black eye this time.”

I grinned. “I make no promises.”

And with that, I strolled out, ready for a well-deserved night of fun.

---

The bar was perfect—dim lights, smooth jazz, and the right amount of people. I leaned against the counter, scanning the crowd, when my eyes landed on her.

A woman sitting alone, sipping her cocktail, her long dark hair tucked behind one ear. Gorgeous. Confident. Exactly my type.

I slid into the seat beside her with my most charming smile. “Rough day?”

She glanced at me and smirked. “Depends. Are you planning to make it better or worse?”

Oh, I liked her already.

"That depends," I said smoothly, "do you prefer charming doctors or mysterious strangers?"

She raised a brow. "You’re a doctor?"

"Cardiologist." I placed a hand over my heart. "I specialize in heartbeats—especially making them race."

She laughed, leaning in slightly. I was just about to pat myself on the back for another successful conversation when—

“You’re flirting with my girlfriend?!”

I blinked.

A very large, very muscular man was storming toward me, looking like he was one second away from committing a crime.

Oh. Boyfriend.

I turned to the woman. She quickly looked away, sipping her drink. Traitor.

“I—uh—” I began.

Too late.

The man grabbed my collar, practically lifting me off my seat like I weighed nothing.

"You think you can just walk in and steal someone’s girl?!" he roared.

"Steal? No, no, let’s not be dramatic—borrow, maybe—"

Bad move.

With one strong shove, I stumbled backward—and felt my foot hit the edge of something.

Wait.

Oh.

Oh no.

SPLASH.

Icy water swallowed me whole.

---

A Strange Awakening

Warmth.

That was the first thing I noticed.

Not the freezing chill of the bar’s outdoor pool. Not the sticky wetness of my clothes.

Just warmth—soft, comforting, and… breathing?

My brain booted up like a badly programmed computer.

I frowned, shifting slightly—only to feel something solid behind me.

Something warm.

Something alive.

My heart stopped.

Slowly, carefully, I opened my eyes.

And that’s when I saw it.

An unfamiliar ceiling.

Not the hospital. Not my apartment.

The ceiling was wooden, high, and covered in intricate golden carvings. A massive chandelier of candle-lit lanterns swayed slightly above me. The air smelled of jasmine and something faintly smoky.

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

Where the hell was I?!

Panic surged through me, but before I could react, a voice groaned behind me.

A deep, sleepy voice.

I froze.

Very, very slowly, I turned my head.

And my soul left my body.

A man.

A very attractive man.

Sleeping beside me.

WHAT. THE. HELL?!

Before I could process the situation, the door slammed open.

"Your Highness! You’re awake!"

I turned in alarm—to see a group of maids and guards kneeling before me.

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

Your Highness?!

I blinked at them. Then at the sleeping man beside me. Then at the expensive silk robe I was suddenly wearing.

Then back at the maids.

Then—

I screamed.

The handsome man beside me jerked awake, his brows furrowing as he stared at me with deep brown eyes.

For a brief, horrifying second, we just stared at each other.

Then, in a calm but absolutely pissed tone, he said:

“Why are you in my bed?”

I did the only reasonable thing.

I screamed again—and rolled right off the mattress.

THUD.

Pain shot up my back as I lay sprawled on the wooden floor.

"I—WHERE—WHY—WHO—" My brain refused to cooperate.

The handsome man sat up, rubbing his temples like he was used to dealing with idiots. "Great. The prince has finally lost his mind."

One of the maids fainted.

A nervous-looking older man rushed into the room, bowing deeply. "Your Highness! You’re finally awake!"

I blinked at him. "Uh… who are you?"

Silence.

The man—dressed in elegant robes, a golden sash draped over his shoulders—went pale.

"Y-Your Highness," he stammered, "you… don’t recognize me?"

I swallowed. "Should I?"

The maids started whispering. The guards looked terrified.

One of them practically sobbed.

"The prince hit his head too hard!"

I turned to the handsome man, still glaring at me. "And you? Who are you supposed to be?"

His frown deepened. "Arthit. Son of the royal physician. And the man whose bed you just woke up in."

I nearly choked. "EXCUSE ME?!"

The older man cleared his throat. "Y-Your Highness… you are Prince Tawan Ratchathewi, heir to the throne of the Siamese kingdom!"

I froze.

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

I stared at the luxurious room. The kneeling maids. The terrified guards. The handsome man still scowling at me.

Then I looked down at my own clothes—rich silk, embroidered with gold.

Then back at everyone else.

And then—

I screamed again.

---

Reality (Or Whatever This Was) Sinks In

After ten minutes of sheer panic, I sat on the edge of the bed, my head in my hands.

“So, let me get this straight,” I muttered. “I, Tawan, was a normal doctor in Bangkok. I fell into a pool. And now, I’m somehow in the body of a crown prince from the past?”

"Yes," the older man—Minister Chakri—confirmed.

"And no one finds this weird?"

Everyone shook their heads.

I groaned. "Of course not."

Then, I turned to Arthit. "And why was I in your bed?"

Arthit scowled. "That’s what I’d like to know."

Minister Chakri cleared his throat. "After His Highness was found unconscious in the river, he was kept warm to avoid illness. Since Arthit was in the palace, he was chosen to monitor you."

I blinked. "So you’re a doctor too?"

Arthit crossed his arms. "Yes. Unlike you, I take my job seriously."

Ouch. That felt personal.

I groaned again, flopping onto the bed.

"What the hell did I just wake up into?"

ARTHIT:

I have treated all kinds of patients in my life.

There were the warriors who pretended that bleeding out was just "a scratch." Then there were the noble ladies who swore a mild fever meant their imminent death. And let’s not forget the children who ran for their lives at the mere sight of herbal medicine.

But none of them—not a single one—came close to Prince Tawan’s level of insanity.

I had been summoned early this morning after hearing that the crown prince had collapsed near the lake the night before. The entire palace was in chaos, with whispers of poisoning, a curse, or even ghosts.

But when I walked into his chambers?

The prince was sitting on his bed, staring at the ceiling like it contained the secrets of the universe. Then, out of nowhere—

Slap.

"Ow!"

Slap.

"Ow! Damn it!"

…Was he slapping himself?!

I stood there, completely baffled.

I cleared my throat. "Your Highness… what exactly are you doing?"

Prince Tawan whipped his head around so fast I thought it might fall off. His eyes were wide, and for some reason, he looked excited to see me.

"Oh! A person!" he exclaimed.

I blinked. "…Yes?"

He pointed at me like he had just discovered fire. "Wait. Are you real?"

I sighed. It was too early for this.

"Your Highness, I am your royal physician," I said, stepping closer. "You were found unconscious near the lake last night. I need to examine you."

Instead of answering, he grabbed my shoulders and shook me.

"Tell me I’m not dead!" he demanded. "Or dreaming! Or—what if I got reincarnated?!"

…This was worse than I thought.

"You’re not dead," I said flatly.

He narrowed his eyes. "How do I know you’re telling the truth?"

I did not hesitate. I simply flicked him on the forehead.

"Ow!" he yelped, stumbling back.

"There," I said. "If that hurt, you’re alive."

Tawan blinked. His mouth opened, then closed. Then, as if his one remaining brain cell finally connected, he groaned and collapsed onto the bed, face-first into a pillow.

"Ughhh. This isn’t a dream, is it?" came the muffled voice.

"Unfortunately for me, no," I muttered.

I sat beside his bed, arms crossed. "Do you remember what happened last night?"

Tawan peeked out from the pillow. "Uhh… there was a lake."

"Yes, you were found there. But what were you doing before that?"

He sat up, scratching his head. "Umm… flirting?"

I stared at him.

"You hit your head and lost your memory, didn’t you?"

"What? No!" He sat up straighter. "I remember everything! It’s just… a little blurry. But totally fine! Yep. Everything is fine."

Suspicious. Very suspicious.

Before I could question him further, the chamber doors BURST open.

The Queen Mother ran in first, wailing like someone had stolen her jewelry.

"My son!" she sobbed, throwing herself onto Tawan like a collapsing tree. "You’re alive! My baby! I thought I lost you!"

Tawan let out a strangled noise, flailing under her tight grip.

I stood there, silently enjoying the scene.

Then, the King entered. Unlike the Queen’s dramatic meltdown, he immediately fixed Tawan with a sharp, unreadable stare. I swear he looked suspicious.

Tawan, still being suffocated by his "mother," let out a nervous laugh. "Haha… Mother! You’re, um, very strong…"

"My precious son!" the Queen wailed louder. "The entire palace was in a panic! You were found unconscious near the lake! What happened?!"

Tawan froze. "Uh…"

I smirked. Let’s see him talk his way out of this one.

His eyes darted around like a trapped rat. Then, with the confidence of a man who just made up a lie on the spot, he blurted out—

"I… was sleepwalking!"

Silence.

I almost choked on my own breath.

The Queen gasped. "Oh, my poor baby! Have you always suffered from this?!"

Tawan hesitated. "Uhh… yes?"

This was amazing.

The King did not look convinced. "You were found at the lake. Alone. If you were truly sleepwalking, why were your clothes wet?"

Tawan blinked. "Ah… well… maybe I… sleep-swam?"

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

The King sighed. "You will be under strict supervision from now on."

Tawan paled. "Wait, what—?"

"You clearly cannot be left alone if you are at risk of drowning in your sleep," the King said.

Tawan looked absolutely horrified.

I decided to make it worse.

"As the royal physician," I said with my most professional voice, "I strongly recommend a personal guard to watch over him at all times. Just in case he… sleep-climbs a tree next."

Tawan shot me the most betrayed look I had ever seen.

The Queen clapped her hands. "Yes! We must protect my son!"

The King nodded. "Then it’s settled. The royal physician will monitor the prince daily. And as of today, he will not be left alone under any circumstances."

Tawan groaned into his hands. "This is a nightmare."

For once, I agreed with him.

But at least I was having fun.

When I woke up in this palace yesterday, I thought maybe I’d been kidnapped by some very dedicated historical reenactors. But no—this was my life now. I was Crown Prince Tawan of some ancient kingdom, with a grumpy doctor, a dramatic queen for a mother, and way too many people expecting me to be a proper royal.

And let me tell you—I was failing spectacularly.

---

Lesson #1: How to Eat Like a Prince (Or, How to Lose Your Appetite in 5 Minutes)

Breakfast was served in a golden dining hall bigger than my entire apartment back home. The long table was filled with steaming dishes—grilled fish, fresh fruits, rice, and soups that smelled amazing.

I reached for a mango. Big mistake.

The royal advisor, an older man with a permanently disappointed face, cleared his throat so hard I thought he might choke.

"A prince does not eat with his hands," he scolded, waving at the absurd number of utensils placed before me. "Each dish requires a specific spoon or chopsticks."

I blinked. "Why do I need three different spoons? It’s just soup."

The advisor gasped as if I had just insulted his ancestors. "Your Highness, this is the tradition of our kingdom—"

I tuned out after that. I mean, who needs three spoons? But since everyone was watching, I picked up the closest one and tried to eat. Another mistake.

“Your Highness, that is the dessert spoon!”

“It’s still a spoon, isn’t it?”

The Queen giggled behind her delicate hand. The King sighed. The nobles sitting across from me whispered like I was a walking disaster.

And Arthit? That smug doctor was watching me struggle with the most judgmental smirk.

---

Lesson #2: Royal Etiquette (Or, How to Be a Public Embarrassment)

After breakfast, I was forced into etiquette lessons because apparently, “A prince must not slouch, eat quickly, or talk with his mouth full.”

Look, I was a doctor! I saved lives! Did it really matter if I walked too casually or leaned on the throne like a lazy cat?

Apparently, it did.

A strict tutor made me practice bowing, standing, and even waving for two straight hours.

"Your Highness, your wave must be elegant!"

I sighed and waved dramatically. "Like this?"

Arthit snorted. The tutor nearly fainted.

---

Lesson #3: Surviving a Public Appearance (Or, How to Make a Kingdom Question Its Prince)

In the afternoon, the Queen decided I needed to "connect with the people." Which meant riding a horse through the city and smiling like an actual prince.

Now, I had never ridden a horse in my life. But did I tell anyone that? No, because I like making bad decisions.

I climbed onto the horse with all the grace of a newborn deer. The moment the animal moved, I grabbed its neck like my life depended on it.

The people watching gasped. The guards whispered. Arthit facepalmed.

"You look like you're wrestling the poor horse," he muttered.

"I am wrestling the horse!" I hissed. "This thing wants me dead!"

The Queen, meanwhile, smiled proudly. "Look how naturally our son takes to riding!"

I almost fell off.

---

Lesson #4: The Great Escape (Or, How to Avoid Responsibilities Like a Pro)

By sunset, I had endured enough bowing, smiling, and near-death experiences for one day. So, like any sane person, I decided to run away.

I snuck out of the palace, disguised as a commoner. My plan? Eat street food, avoid responsibility, and pretend I wasn’t a prince.

It worked for five minutes.

Then I heard someone behind me say, “Your Highness, what the hell are you doing?”

I turned around slowly.

Of course. It was Arthit.

---

Lesson #5: Flirting With the Doctor (Or, How to Get Scolded in Two Seconds)

Arthit had his arms crossed, looking at me like a disappointed babysitter.

"I’m exploring," I said, grinning. "Want to join me?"

"No."

"So grumpy," I teased. "You should smile more. You’re actually kind of cute when you—"

"Finish that sentence, and I’ll personally poison your tea."

I laughed. "You wouldn’t."

He stepped closer. "Try me."

Why was that kind of...hot?

---

Lesson #6: Realizing I Might Actually Like It Here

That night, after surviving my first full day as a prince, I lay in my oversized royal bed, staring at the ceiling.

Everything here was wrong—the rules, the people expecting me to be someone I wasn’t, the fact that I was in a different time period.

But at the same time… it wasn’t all bad.

I kind of liked annoying Arthit. I liked the Queen’s over-the-top affection. I even liked the city, the streets, the people.

Maybe, just maybe, being a prince wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

Too bad I had no idea what was coming next.