The Prince Returns
1375 Words
The King held the royal seal above the document.
For a moment, everything was still.
Then—
A eunuch burst into the great hall.
He stumbled forward, bowing hastily before the ministers, then rushed toward the throne.
“Your Highness… the soldiers have returned and—”
“And what?” the King demanded.
All eyes turned to the trembling eunuch.
His lips quivered. His voice failed him.
“I-it’s… it’s…”
He swallowed hard, then blurted out—
“Please… come with me, Your Highness!”
Before anyone could respond, he turned and ran.
The King did not hesitate.
He set the seal aside and followed.
“Your Highness! The document must be sealed first!” the left-wing ministers called after him.
But he did not stop.
One by one, the ministers followed.
King Seo-Jung’s heart pounded as he moved through the palace halls.
They found him.
But in what condition?
His mind raced—
wounded… broken… or worse—
He pushed the thoughts away.
They reached the courtyard.
A crowd had already gathered—soldiers, eunuchs, court ladies.
The King slowed.
His legs suddenly felt heavy.
Each step became harder than the last.
The crowd parted.
Everyone bowed—
except one.
A soldier stood at the center, his back turned.
He turned to face the King.
There was a smile on his face.
“Your Highness… we found the prince.”
A pause.
“We found Prince Young-Sik.”
The King’s breath caught.
“…and he lives.”
Seo-Jung’s eyes fell upon the boy in the soldier’s arms.
Young-Sik was barely recognizable.
His hair was tangled, matted with dirt.
His clothes were torn, caked in mud.
His lips were dry and cracked.
For a moment—
The King could not move.
Then slowly—
He stepped forward.
His hand trembled as he reached out, brushing his son’s hair back gently.
“Father…?”
The voice was weak.
Barely a whisper.
But it was enough.
The King gathered him into his arms.
Tightly.
As if he might disappear again.
Tears streamed down his face—
not of sorrow—
but of overwhelming relief.
“You’re safe…” he whispered. “You’re safe…”
The courtyard erupted.
Joy.
Relief.
Disbelief.
But not all hearts shared in it.
At the edge of the crowd—
Lim Do-Yun stood still.
His jaw tightened.
His fists clenched at his sides.
He lives.
A slow, burning anger settled deep within him. This changes everything.
Twenty days passed.
Young-Sik did not leave the former Crown Prince’s residence.
Not once.
The King entered quietly.
The room was dim.
The boy lay on the bed, his back turned, unmoving.
“My prince…” the King said gently, sitting beside him.
“You should go outside. Your body will weaken if you remain here.”
No answer.
The King reached out, stroking his son’s hair.
His chest tightened.
He could not begin to understand what the child had seen.
What he had endured.
He leaned closer.
“When you are ready… speak to me,” he whispered.
“And I will grant you a wish… whatever it may be.”
He stood to leave—
but paused at the door.
Young-Sik had not moved.
Not even once.
Outside, the King turned to the eunuch and lady-in-waiting.
“How is he?”
They exchanged a glance.
Then the eunuch spoke carefully.
“Your Highness… the prince remains inside Prince Seo-Joon’s chamber.”
A pause.
“He cries… and holds the late prince’s sword.”
The King’s expression hardened slightly.
“He believes… it was his fault.”
Silence fell.
“We hear him say… they died because he could not help them.”
The King closed his eyes briefly.
“…Has he visited the royal tombs?”
“No, Your Highness,” the court lady answered softly. “Not even once.”
The King looked back at the closed door.
“What has become of you… my son…”
That night—
The King visited Consort Lee.
Servants moved busily, preparing her for her ascension.
When he entered, she bowed gracefully.
“Are you prepared for tomorrow?” he asked. “For your coronation.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” she replied.
Then, with a smile:
“And our son… when will he be named Crown Prince?”
The King’s answer was immediate.
“The Crown Prince already resides in his chamber.”
The smile vanished.
Only for a moment—
But it was enough.
“Forgive me, my King…” she said carefully. “I do not understand.”
“If I am to be Queen… does that not make Man-Ju the rightful heir?”
Her voice remained steady—
But her hand trembled slightly.
The King noticed.
“It does not matter,” he said simply.
“I have chosen my successor.”
A pause.
“Do we have a problem?”
Consort Lee forced a smile.
“None, Your Highness.”
But behind it—
Anger burned.
My son will be King.
No matter what.
Outside the room—
Man-Ju stood still.
He had heard everything.
He told himself it did not matter.
But—
something in his chest tightened.
Four months passed.
Young-Sik did not change.
He remained inside.
Shut away from the world.
One morning—
Man-Ju entered without knocking.
“Get up,” he said. “Come on—get up.”
“Go away.”
The answer came instantly.
Man-Ju sighed.
“You’ve been here too long. You haven’t even visited their graves.”
Silence.
Then—
“They don’t want me there.”
Man-Ju frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
“I was the reason they died.”
The words came quietly—
But they struck hard.
“You didn’t kill them,” Man-Ju said firmly.
“I couldn’t save them!” Young-Sik suddenly shouted.
His voice cracked.
“That girl—she saved me! But when it was my turn… I couldn’t help her!”
His breathing grew uneven.
“It’s the same… It’s the same as killing them!”
Man-Ju’s patience snapped.
He grabbed his brother and pulled him up.
“You could not have saved them!” he said sharply. “You were just a child!”
“That’s not true!” Young-Sik shouted again. “I should have done something—I should have—!”
SLAP.
The sound echoed in the room.
Young-Sik froze.
Then—
He broke.
He collapsed into Man-Ju’s chest, crying uncontrollably.
“I’m sorry…” Man-Ju whispered, holding him tightly. “I just… I can’t lose you too…”
“I miss them…” Young-Sik sobbed. “Mother… Yoo-Na… Seo-Joon…”
His voice cracked completely.
“I want them back… please… give them back…”
Man-Ju’s eyes filled with tears.
“We can’t,” he said softly. “They’re gone.”
A pause.
“But Father… Mother… I’m still here.”
He tightened his hold.
“Don’t leave us too.”
He pulled back slightly and looked at him.
“Remember what Seo-Joon said.”
Young-Sik’s sobs slowed.
“We must be strong,” Man-Ju continued. “We must carry our duties… even in the darkest times.”
He wiped his brother’s tears.
“This is that time.”
A pause.
“Let’s not make him regret believing in us.”
“…Are you ready?” he asked quietly.
After a long moment—
Young-Sik nodded.
For the first time in four months—
He stepped outside.
The sunlight blinded him.
He raised a hand instinctively.
When his eyes adjusted—
He saw them.
Servants.
Guards.
Watching him.
Smiling.
Relieved.
Man-Ju sniffed the air.
“…We can celebrate later,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “You need a bath first.”
The attendants quickly stepped forward—
then recoiled slightly at the smell.
Later—
clean, dressed—
the two princes stood before the royal tombs.
Man-Ju knelt.
Lit incense.
Paid his respects.
Young-Sik did not kneel.
He only stood.
Staring.
His face was calm.
Too calm.
But in his eyes—
Something had changed.
Something deeper than grief.
Something colder.
A single thought repeated in his mind.
No one will ever hurt my family again.
Anyone who tries…
I will kill them.
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