The lower palace had always been where ambition came to die.
Dust gathered in the joints of old beams. The scent of mildew clung to the walls. Here, the stone did not shine like in the upper courts—it bled. Quietly. Slowly. Without protest.
But on this morning, the stone held its breath.
A procession wound through the corridor like a snake made of silk and shadow. At its head walked a woman clad in sea-foam green and violet veils, her footsteps so soft they might as well have floated.
Princess Shi Ryena.
She was the court's phantom—neither fully present nor fully absent. Daughter of a concubine who had once been beloved but died under mysterious circumstances. Sister to Prince Yulian, though barely acknowledged as such. She rarely appeared in public, and when she did, she spoke in phrases that left ministers confused and generals uneasy.
The guards at the lower levels were not prepared for her arrival.
She did not travel with an army, or a parade of eunuchs. Only one silent man followed—her steward, long-faced and pale, carrying a single black scroll case tied with red thread.
"Clear the corridor," she said, her voice muffled but unmistakably commanding.
Those nearby obeyed immediately, scattering like roaches from lantern light.
She did not explain her visit. She did not need to.
At the edge of the training yard, just below the moss-streaked archway, Muyeon was carrying a broken bucket of water from the well. His hands were calloused, his shirt damp with sweat. He did not look up until he felt the weight of her gaze.
Their eyes met.
And for a second—just one second—the world paused.
He did not bow. Did not flinch. Did not avert his eyes.
She smiled.
Behind his ribs, the System hummed.
> [Fate Entwined: Target of Significance – Shi Ryena]
Synchronicity Index: 29%... 31%... 34%
Status: Sleeping Threat – Latent Influence Detected
Passive: Veiled Intent – This entity is shielded from most detection systems.
She tilted her head, the smile still faint beneath her veil, then turned and disappeared deeper into the hallway.
Muyeon stood silently. Not in awe—but with unease.
It was not fear that stirred in him. It was familiarity.
---
Later, in her private garden, Ryena sat among fallen magnolia petals and peered into the reflection of a black-lacquered bowl. Her fingers traced the image she had drawn earlier—the boy with the sharp stare and the weight of a storm behind his eyes.
"Who was he?" she asked without looking.
Her steward stood beside her, clutching a new report. "The pit child. No name. Likely abandoned. Has been there for years."
"Has he spoken?"
"Not often. But he draws followers. The others… defer."
Ryena nodded slowly. "And my brother? Has Yulian taken note?"
"Not yet."
"Then he will soon."
She set the parchment down and opened a locked drawer beneath the table.
Inside was a letter wrapped in silk—old, yellowed, the seal cracked. She'd opened it many times, and each time the words pierced deeper.
> "They stole him from the bloodline. From the fire. If you find him, do not fear him. He is not your enemy. He is your test."
Her mother's handwriting was unmistakable.
Ryena closed the drawer with care.
Her eyes, always soft and clouded, now burned with hidden clarity.
---
Meanwhile, in the lowest pit, Dowon stirred ink from ash and whispered toward the smoke.
"She has begun to remember," he muttered. "Even if she doesn't know why yet."
Geomryu was less philosophical. "She's dangerous. Royal blood always is."
Dowon replied, "So was Haein. And she bore more than royal blood. She bore the match that will set this dynasty ablaze."
The old scholar smiled to himself.
> "Even fate bows when old blood remembers its purpose."
---
That evening, Muyeon sat before the names he'd carved into stone. Ara slept nearby, her breathing steadier now. The pit was quieter than usual.
He stared at the wall, thinking.
He had faced blades, fists, hunger, betrayal. But this was something different. That woman's gaze—it did not treat him like dirt. It treated him like... something recognized.
That unsettled him more than any knife.
He added no name to the stone that night.
But in his mind, he etched something deeper:
A veil of silk.
A smile beneath it.
And eyes that knew more than they should.
---