In the quiet corridors of the inner palace, where the air was perfumed with incense and secrets, two souls walked a path they were never meant to share.
Crown Prince Taehyung was the empire’s hope, wise beyond his years, with eyes that held the sorrow of someone born into duty.
Jungkook the royal eunuch assigned to him since childhood, was quiet, gentle, and painfully loyal.
They grew up together.
Taehyung taught Jungkook to read. Jungkook taught Taehyung how to cry when no one was watching.
At thirteen, Taehyung kissed Jungkook for the first time.
At fifteen, Jungkook kissed him back.
But neither of them spoke of it.
Because in the Jaeguk Dynasty, a prince's heart belonged to the kingdom.
And someone like Jungkook, born a servant, castrated before he could choose love or life, belonged to no one.
They loved in silence.. fleeting glances beneath silk fans, hands brushing under candlelight, letters hidden behind poetry scrolls. They shared stolen nights in the library, where their shadows touched even if they could not.
“I would give up the throne,” Taehyung whispered one night, his voice breaking against Jungkook’s shoulder.
“You can’t,” Jungkook said, pressing a finger to his lips. “You were born to save this kingdom. I was born to serve you.”
When rebellion rose in the northern provinces, Taehyung was sent to war at seventeen.
Jungkook waited.For two years, he lit incense for the prince each night, folded Taehyung’s robes though they remained unworn, and wrote letters he never sent.
When Taehyung returned, he was no longer the boy Jungkook knew. He had blood on his hands, scars on his chest, and shadows in his eyes. But when he saw Jungkook waiting by the palace gates, he smiled, and whispered, “I remembered you.”
The court, however, had other plans.
To quell unrest, the King announced Taehyung would marry the daughter of a warlord. Jungkook was reassigned to the Queen Dowager’s household.
They saw each other only in passing.. a flash of eyes, a bowed head, a whisper of longing in the silence.
One winter, a scandal broke.
An anonymous letter accused Crown Prince Taehyung of harboring “inappropriate affections” for a palace eunuch.
Jungkook was arrested. He didn’t beg. He didn’t resist. Even under torture, he gave no names.
Taehyung found him bloodied in the prison’s cold cell, chained like an animal.
“Tell them it was me,” Jungkook whispered, unable to lift his head. “Let me be the monster. You... must survive.”
But Taehyung knelt in the dirt, tears freezing on his cheeks. “I won’t be King without you.”
At dawn, the sentence was carried out in secret. Jungkook was ordered to take poison, his body buried beneath the plum blossoms behind the palace, a tree he once said reminded him of Taehyung’s smile.
The following spring, Taehyung was crowned King. He ruled with wisdom, strength, and unmatched sorrow. No one ever saw him smile again.
Every winter, when snow fell over the palace and the plum blossoms bloomed too early, the King would sit by that tree, dressed in plain white robes, a single cup of tea laid before an empty spot beside him.
And when asked why, he would only say:
“The one who taught me love sleeps here.
I must keep him warm.”
The End~
