"He is my chosen student, Your Majesty.""Really? How odd. I remember when some of my sons asked, you refused.""My apologies.""Oh well, I don't really care. But… why is your so-called student hiding his face, hmm?"
Jang Ho went silent for a while, then looked at Lucen."Take off your hat."
A heavy silence followed.The emperor leaned forward ever so slightly."Well, well… he isn't from here, is he?"
"Yes. He isn't," Jang Ho replied simply.
A long minute passed. Silence stretched like a shadow across the throne room. Servants didn't dare breathe, and the guards stood so still they seemed like statues.
Finally, the emperor exhaled, voice low but composed."I see."
He leaned back against the golden frame of his throne, the silks of his robe rustling faintly."Well then. I summoned you here to instruct my sons. Not all of them—some are useless, to be frank. But seven of them show some promise."
He raised a hand lazily, as though brushing aside the rest of his thoughts."You may continue teaching your student. He is, after all, your chosen one."A pause."Let him have the grace of studying alongside the others."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Jang Ho said, bowing his head before turning to leave.
But just as he began to rise, the emperor raised a hand."Wait."His gaze shifted toward the small figure beside the general."The boy. I want a word with him… alone."
Jang Ho hesitated for a breath, but he knew better than to argue."…As you wish, Your Majesty."He gave Lucen a last glance—subtle, protective—then walked away, the sound of his steps fading into the vast hall.
Lucen was left behind.
He stood there quietly, his shorter hair brushing the sides of his face, eyes lowered. His presence was faint—like a flicker in a place too large, too bright. The emperor sat high on his throne, gilded and draped in black silk, watching him with a curious eye.
"Come closer, boy."The language was lofty, refined. But Lucen understood it well.
He took a few steps forward."Closer," the emperor said again, his voice echoing lightly through the chamber.
Lucen obeyed, climbing the steps that led toward the raised throne. When he was near enough, the emperor gave a quiet laugh.
"You were so small I couldn't see you from afar," he said, amused."How old are you?"
Lucen hesitated, then answered in halting speech, his words crooked but clear."I'm… thirteen… Your Majesty."
The emperor raised a brow."Thirteen? Hah. I think one of my sons is thirteen too—but he's nearly twice your height. And width."
Lucen said nothing, but the thought stirred silently in his mind. No. It isn't strange. I was once small. But now… I'm healthy. Your son is the odd one.
The emperor leaned forward slightly, watching the boy's still-lowered face."Lift your head. I can only see your golden hair."
Lucen obeyed.
When his face tilted upward, the hall fell into a moment of stillness. The emperor expected beauty—after all, he had heard the whispers. But it wasn't Lucen's features that caught him off guard.
It was his eyes.
Not the colors—one blue, one green—that people murmured about like superstition. No. It was what lay behind them.
Strength. Depth. A quiet, ancient terror that had passed through those irises and left its mark. Eyes that had seen something no child should, and survived.
Even the emperor's eldest sons—proud, trained, hardened—didn't have eyes like these.
For a second, the emperor's breath caught. A strange disappointment bloomed in his chest—this boy wasn't his. what a shame.
He masked it quickly.
"Jang Ho chose well," he said at last."You may go."
lucen walked in silence, his soft steps swallowed by the grand hall's golden floors. the guards didn't speak. jang ho waited ahead, standing still like a statue carved from shadow and steel. when lucen reached him, the man lowered his head slightly and asked, voice low, "did he say anything strange?"
lucen looked up at him. the palace's dim lights caught in his two-colored eyes—green and blue, quiet and stormy."no," he answered. "just words."
jang ho studied him for a moment, but said nothing more. he turned and led the boy through the endless halls.
the imperial palace was not warm. it was beautiful, yes—walls lined with black wood and threads of gold, lanterns casting pale light, servants bowing without sound—but it was the kind of beauty that watched you, weighed you, judged you. the kind of place where nothing breathed freely.
people stared at them as they walked. noble ladies in layered silk glanced from behind their fans. boys in fine robes paused mid-step. whispers rose and faded like falling snow.
they arrived at a smaller building inside the palace grounds, quiet and shadowed. inside was lucen's chamber.
his room was not poor. it was wide, with red pillars and soft tatami floors, a folded screen painted with cranes and pine trees. a wooden table stood near the window, and a clean bed was prepared with soft linen. a lantern hung above, its light flickering gently.
when jang ho left him for the night, lucen stood still in the center of the room for a long while.
then, finally, he moved to the window.
outside, the palace gardens stretched in silence—silver leaves in the moonlight, still ponds reflecting ancient roofs. the air smelled of pine and water and something faintly cold.
lucen pressed a hand to the glass.
the emperor's voice still echoed in his chest. "you are small. how odd."his own answer echoed louder: "i'm thirteen, your majesty."
he wasn't thinking of the emperor now. he was thinking of the sea, of the red moon, of the forest that whispered, of the stitched monster's sharp laugh. his eyes remained wide open, even when they burned. he had seen too much to sleep easily.
after a while, lucen sat near the table. there was a brush and paper set beside a tea cup he didn't touch. he picked up the brush but didn't write.
he just looked at the empty paper.and breathed.
elsewhere, still within the great walls of the imperial palace, the night air carried the gentle fragrance of flowers. nestled between the east wings, hidden behind curved stone paths and tall lanterns, was a garden unlike any other.
the moonlight bathed it in a silver glow.
white lilies and soft blue lotuses bloomed under the stars, swaying in the faint breeze. marble statues lined the edges like silent guards, and in the heart of the garden sat a boy, alone at a round stone table.
his hair was long, falling like silk down his back—white as snow, untouched by time. it shimmered gently in the moonlight.
he lifted his teacup slowly, delicately, as though even the porcelain needed to be handled with grace. every movement was refined. quiet. royal.
his face was striking—no, more than striking. handsome. a calm, cold beauty, like the still surface of a frozen lake. he looked more like the emperor than any of the other sons, and some said he would have made a better heir.
when the servant approached, careful not to step too loudly, the boy didn't look up.
"your highness," the servant whispered, bowing low, "general jang ho has returned. he will begin instructing you and your brothers once more… and… he has brought a student of his own. a boy. he will attend class with you, starting tomorrow."
for a moment, the prince said nothing. then—
a faint smile appeared at the corner of his lips. not cruel. not kind. just… amused.
he sipped his tea slowly, eyes watching the moonlight spill across the water in the pond.
he gave no answer. and the servant, sensing the dismissal, bowed again and left quietly.
the white-haired boy continued drinking, unbothered—thoughtful, but still.
and as the night deepened, a ripple moved through the palace.
one by one, the seven sons heard of the general's return… and the mysterious boy he brought with him.
some were curious.
some were angry.
some were afraid.