The Borrowed Face

Ra-on moved with decisive speed, pulling clothing from the chest. Daliah stripped off her sweater and jeans, the modern fabric pooling at her feet like evidence of a crime. The cold air bit at her skin.

"Quickly," Ra-on whispered, thrusting undergarments and layers at her. "The binding cloth first. You must flatten your chest."

Daliah wrapped the cloth around her breasts, pulling it tight enough to hurt. Each layer of hanbok that followed felt simultaneously foreign and surprisingly practical. The weight of the fabric, the way it moved, the restriction and flow. Ra-on's hands were efficient, tying and tucking with practiced ease.

"Your hair," Ra-on muttered, producing scissors.

Daliah's hand flew to her short natural hair. "It's already short."

"But the style is wrong. Let me fix it." Ra-on worked quickly, adjusting and pinning until Daliah's hair resembled something closer to a young man's topknot. "Your face is round enough, soft enough. If you keep your head down, do not speak unless necessary, you might pass. But your eyes..."

"What about them?"

"They are too direct. Too bold. Men of low status do not meet the gaze of their superiors. You must learn to be invisible." Ra-on stepped back, assessing. "You are now Hong Dae-sung, my younger cousin from the countryside, visiting to seek work. You are simple, quiet, and unimportant. Can you be that?"

Daliah looked down at her transformed body. The hanbok disguised her curves, though her plump figure would still be apparent to anyone who looked closely. "I can try."

The footsteps stopped outside the door.

Ra-on grabbed the candle and set it by the desk, then shoved Daliah's modern clothes under the sleeping mat with her foot. She positioned herself at the desk as if she had been writing, and gestured sharply for Daliah to kneel in the corner, head bowed.

Daliah dropped to her knees, heart hammering. She forced her breathing to slow, using techniques from performance preparation. The floor was hard beneath her knees. She stared at the grain of the wooden boards and tried to make herself small.

The door swung open without ceremony.

"Hong Sam-nom," a gruff voice declared. "All quarters are being searched. Stand and account for yourself and any others present."

Ra-on stood smoothly, bowing with precise deference. "Guard Yang. I am transcribing Minister Kim's correspondence, as ordered. This is my cousin, Hong Dae-sung, arrived this evening from Geumsan. He seeks employment and shelter until I can present him to the household administrator tomorrow."

Daliah kept her head down, willing herself to be nothing, nobody. She felt the guard's gaze sweep over her.

"Geumsan? That is far. Why come now, in winter?"

Ra-on's voice remained steady. "His father died last month. There is no one to work the land, and his mother sent him here in hope of wages to send back. The roads are difficult, which is why he arrived so late."

The lie was smooth, detailed, credible. Daliah marveled at how easily the story flowed. Ra-on had experience with deception.

The guard grunted. "You, boy. Look up."

Daliah's pulse spiked. Slowly, she raised her head, keeping her eyes downcast, her expression blank. She could see the guard's boots, the hem of his uniform.

"Hmph. Looks half-starved. Feed him something, Sam-nom. We do not need another mouth dying of hunger and creating paperwork."

"Of course, Guard Yang. May I ask what intruder you seek? So we may be watchful?"

"Someone breached the eastern wall near the old pavilion. Likely a thief or spy. If you see anything suspicious, report immediately."

"Naturally."

The guard's boots turned away. The door closed. Silence stretched, fragile as ice.

Neither of them moved for a long moment. Then Ra-on exhaled shakily and sank onto her cushion. "That was too close."

Daliah's hands were trembling. She pressed them flat against her thighs. "You are a very good liar."

"I have had to be." Ra-on's voice was tired. "But now we have created a problem. I told them you are my cousin. By morning, others will know. You will need to maintain this role, at least for a time. Can you do that? Can you live as Hong Dae-sung?"

Daliah thought of the binding cloth constricting her chest, the weight of the disguise, the way she had forced herself invisible under the guard's scrutiny. She thought of her mother, who would be frantic by now, wondering where she was. She thought of the audition she would never attend, the life that had been ripped away in a moment of twisted metal and impossible light.

"I do not have a choice, do I?" she said quietly.

"There are always choices," Ra-on replied. "But some cost more than others."

Before Daliah could respond, voices erupted again outside, but these were different. Excited, urgent. Someone was shouting orders. Then a clear, commanding voice cut through the chaos, closer than the others.

"Assemble the guard in the courtyard. I will inspect the perimeter myself."

Ra-on's face transformed, tension and something else, something complicated, flooding her features. "The Crown Prince," she whispered. "Lee Yeong is out there."

Daliah moved to the door, curiosity overriding caution. Through a crack in the wood, she could see figures moving in the courtyard beyond. Torchlight illuminated a young man striding through the chaos with unmistakable authority. Even at a distance, even in the uncertain light, Daliah could see the way others deferred to him, the grace and power in his movements.

Lee Yeong stopped, turning to address a guard. The torchlight caught his face, sharp and handsome and alive with intelligence. His expression shifted rapidly as he spoke, animated, focused, present in a way that commanded attention.

Daliah's breath caught. She had seen royalty in photographs, in performances, distant and untouchable. But this man radiated a different kind of presence. Real. Immediate. Magnetic.

"Stop staring," Ra-on hissed, pulling her back. "If he sees you, if he notices anything unusual..."

"He is your Crown Prince," Daliah said, understanding flooding through her. "That is why you are in the palace. You serve him."

Ra-on's silence was answer enough. The complicated expression, the fear and longing tangled together, told Daliah everything she needed to know about secrets layered upon secrets.

Outside, Lee Yeong called for a report. His voice carried clearly, educated and sharp. The guards scrambled to respond. And Daliah, despite every rational thought, despite the danger and the impossibility of everything, felt something shift inside her. She had crossed time itself to land in this moment, disguised and displaced, watching a prince search for an intruder who was standing hidden just beyond his sight.

The night stretched ahead, full of uncertainties.

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