The Duke's Chambers
880 Words
A Dangerous Proposition
The moment the dungeon door creaked open, Sung knew something had shifted.
The guards didn’t drag him this time. Instead, they marched him through winding stone corridors, their grip firm but not bruising. That alone was unsettling.
*What changed?*
The castle was even grander than he’d imagined—high vaulted ceilings, intricate tapestries depicting bloody battles, and windows so tall they swallowed the pale northern light. But Sung barely had time to gawk before they stopped before a heavy oak door.
One of the guards knocked twice.
**“Enter.”**
That voice. Deep. Commanding. Sung’s pulse spiked.
The door swung open, revealing a study lined with bookshelves and a massive desk of dark wood. And behind it—
Jiwon.
The Duke looked even more imposing up close, his sharp features cast in shadow by the flickering firelight. He dismissed the guards with a wave, and the door shut behind Sung with a soft but final *click*.
Silence.
Sung swallowed. “So… am I getting executed, or…?”
Jiwon’s eyes flicked up, silver and piercing. **“Sit.”**
Sung sat.
Jiwon leaned forward, steepling his fingers. **“You claim to be from another world.”**
“Yeah.”
**“Prove it.”**
Sung exhaled sharply. “Look, I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t have magic or some fancy artifact. I just—” He hesitated. “You guys have mirrors here, right?”
Jiwon’s brow arched slightly.
Sung pointed at his own face. “I look exactly like this Kang Yohan guy, yeah? But I don’t *act* like him, do I?”
A beat of silence.
Then—
**“No.”** Jiwon’s voice was quieter now. **“You don’t.”**
Sung leaned forward. “Then *trust* that. I’m not him. I don’t even know who he is.”
Jiwon’s gaze darkened. **“He’s the man who put a knife in my back.”**
*Oh.*
Sung went still.
Jiwon stood abruptly, circling the desk until he loomed over Sung. **“But you… you’re something else.”**
Sung’s breath hitched as Jiwon’s hand lifted—but instead of striking him, the Duke’s fingers brushed against his jaw, tilting his face toward the light.
**“Same face,”** Jiwon murmured. **“But your eyes…”**
Sung’s heart hammered. “What about them?”
Jiwon’s thumb traced the curve of Sung’s cheekbone, sending an unexpected shiver down his spine. **“They’re warm.”**
The First Night
Sung wasn’t thrown back into the dungeons.
Instead, he was given a room—small but clean, with a real bed and a fireplace. It was more than he’d ever had in his old life.
*This is a trap.*
It had to be.
But when he asked the servant why, the man just bowed and said, **“The Duke’s orders.”**
Sung didn’t sleep that night.
Every creak of the castle, every distant footstep, set his nerves on edge. Was Jiwon testing him? Waiting for him to slip up?
At dawn, a knock came.
Sung yanked the door open—and froze.
Jiwon stood there, dressed in a fitted black coat, his hair slightly damp as if he’d just bathed.
**“Come.”**
Sung blinked. “Where?”
**“The training grounds.”**
---
Tension and Blades
The training grounds were a wide courtyard dusted with snow, lined with weapon racks and straw dummies. A handful of soldiers sparred in the distance, their breaths fogging in the cold air.
Jiwon tossed Sung a sword.
Sung fumbled, barely catching it. “Uh. I don’t know how to use this.”
**“I know.”** Jiwon unsheathed his own blade. **“That’s the point.”**
Before Sung could react, Jiwon struck.
Sung yelped, barely dodging. The blade whistled past his ear.
**“What the hell?!”**
Jiwon didn’t answer. He attacked again, forcing Sung to stumble back.
*He’s trying to kill me after all!*
Sung barely parried the next strike, his arms shaking from the impact.
Jiwon’s lips curled. **“Pathetic.”**
Sung gritted his teeth. “I *told* you I don’t know how to fight!”
**“Then learn.”**
Another swing. This time, Sung wasn’t fast enough.
The flat of Jiwon’s blade slammed into his ribs, sending him crashing into the snow. Pain flared, sharp and bright.
Jiwon loomed over him, sword tip hovering at Sung’s throat. **“Get up.”**
Sung’s vision swam. “Why are you doing this?”
Jiwon’s voice dropped, low and dangerous. **“Because if you’re going to stay here, you’ll need to survive.”**
*Stay here?*
Before Sung could process that, Jiwon sheathed his sword and offered a hand.
Sung stared at it.
Then, slowly, he took it.
Jiwon’s grip was firm, pulling him up effortlessly—until Sung was flush against him, their breaths mingling in the cold air.
Jiwon’s eyes flicked to Sung’s lips.
**“And Sung?”**
Sung’s pulse roared in his ears. “Y-yeah?”
**“Don’t disappoint me.”**
___ to be continued ___
- Writer
