We entered the deep forest, where the light dimmed beneath thick canopies and the air carried the scent of moss and earth.

  We settled for a moment—listening.

  Then—

  Crack.

  A branch snapped to our left.

  Then another.

  To the right.

  Heavy footsteps.

  Not human.

  And then they emerged.

  Five hulking gorillas, each towering over me by at least two heads. Their silver backs gleamed, eyes black and alert. Their breath steamed in the cool forest air. Muscles rippled beneath thick fur like waves on a stormed sea.

  These weren’t just animals.

  They were challengers.

  Baekho stepped forward, blade already drawn.

  “Run, Agissi. I’ll hold them off.”

  “No.”

  I stepped forward, gaze locked with the lead gorilla’s.

  “This is my battle.”

  Baekho hesitated—but he knew better than to argue.

  The first gorilla charged with terrifying speed, shaking the forest with every step.

  I waited.

  Then slid to the side.

  One punch.

  A crack split the silence as I struck its jaw. The beast flew backward, crashing into a tree. Its jaw hung dislocated, its growl reduced to a gargled grunt.

  Another leapt from the trees above.

  I rolled, then rose with a power kick to its ribs.

  Crack.

  The gorilla roared as it was launched back into the air, landing against a tree and clinging with one hand.

  They surrounded me now.

  Five to one.

  Perfect odds.

  I closed my eyes for a breath.

  Then I moved.

  A spinning kick slammed into one’s chest—thud!—sending it tumbling.

  A punch under the jaw—

  A rising knee—

  One gorilla dropped to its knees, gasping.

  Another grabbed me from behind.

  I bent forward, shifted my weight, and flipped it over my shoulder.

  Its grip broke mid-air with a snap as it slammed to the ground.

  The fourth tried to flank me.

  I snatched up a fallen stone, heavy and jagged, and hurled it like a hammer.

  It struck the beast’s head with a crack—the gorilla collapsed, unmoving.

  Then came the last one.

  The largest.

  The fiercest.

  Its roar thundered through the trees as it charged with earth-shaking steps.

  I didn’t flinch.

  I ran to meet it—head-on.

  The clash rattled the forest. Birds scattered into the sky. Trees trembled.

  I slipped left—then right.

  Leapt onto its swinging arm.

  Ran up its massive shoulder like a wall—

  Then brought both fists down on the crown of its skull with the force of a boulder strike.

  The ground cracked beneath our feet.

  Then—

  Silence.

  The forest held its breath.

  I stood in the center, drenched in sweat and dirt.

  Around me, five silver-backed giants groaned, unconscious. The clearing was still.

  Baekho stepped forward, stunned.

  “…Remind me never to spar with you,” he muttered.

  I brushed dirt from my shoulder and exhaled. “They were strong.”

  “But not stronger than you,” he replied quietly.

  I looked once more at the fallen beasts—then to the horizon beyond the trees.

  “No.”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “Nothing will be.”

  We skinned All of the gorillas, wrapping its pelt with rope for transport.

  Then, with the sun dipping lower, we paused to rest—eating a small portion of the meat we cooked over a quick fire.

  Just as we were preparing to head back to the palace, I stopped cold.

  My ears twitched.

  “Baekho,” I said, voice low. “There are five enemies ahead… five more to our left and right… and one at our back.”

  Baekho’s hand went straight to his blade.

  “Can you handle the one behind us?” I asked calmly.

  He nodded. “Yes, Agissi.”

  Then it happened—fast.

  A rustling sound—super speed through leaves.

  An arrow tore through the air, aimed directly at Baekho.

  In a flash, I drew my knife and intercepted the arrow mid-flight, knocking it aside before it reached him.

  Then—five more arrows—racing toward me.

  I caught them all. One by one. Bare-handed.

  My eyes sharpened.

  I heard it—their hearts pounding.

  Fast. Panicked. Afraid.

  Without hesitation, I threw the arrows back—not to kill, but to warn.

  Each arrow shot precisely in the direction it came from.

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  A massive cry echoed through the trees.

  Then—

  They charged.

  Nine bandits.

  I looked behind me—

  Baekho was struck in the chest.

  My vision narrowed. Rage burned through me like fire.

  I dashed toward a bandit near Baekho.

  With a single punch to his skull, blood erupted from his head like a burst dam.

  He dropped without a sound.

  The rest charged from behind.

  I grabbed a thick log from the ground and swung it with precision.

  CRACK—

  The impact launched them into the air like ragdolls, bodies colliding with trees and earth.

  One bandit managed to stagger up.

  I was faster.

  I dashed forward, jabbed straight to his face.

  His nose shattered. His skull caved in.

  Another lunged.

  I spun—one clean kick.

  Skull crushed. Jaw shattered.

  All silence now.

  Only the sound of wind brushing through the trees.

  Baekho lay on the ground, blood staining his robes.

  I rushed to his side and lifted him carefully.

  “Wangja… I can walk,” he said, breath shaking. “I got this. How could I— a servant—be weak and fragile, serving you…?”

  Tears slipped from his eyes.

  I looked him in the eyes.

  “I didn’t choose you because of strength… or weakness,” I said softly.

  “I chose you because you are trustworthy. That matters more than any blade.”

  By late afternoon, around 5 p.m., I built a makeshift cart from wood and rope. We placed the gorilla’s body on it and made our way to the commoner district.

  The people there were weak. Thin. Starving.

  As a prince, I had the power—and the duty—to do what my father once did.

  To feed them.

  I gave the meat to the villagers—watched as their tired eyes lit up with tears and disbelief.

  By accident, I ran into Daeyoung on the road.

  “I need a doctor,” I said.

  Without hesitation, he nodded. “Follow me, Wangja Ma-ma.”

  We reached a modest wooden home nestled at the edge of the district. From a distance, I saw a man in a dark robe, worn with age and stained by years of medicine and work. A leather pouch hung at his side.

  He noticed us immediately—and saw Baekho’s injuries.

  Without a word, he opened the door.

  As I entered, the scent of herbs hit me—cool, calming, sharp.

  Inside the small wooden home, Seo Haneul moved with focus and precision.

  His hands were steady as he began stitching Baekho’s wound.

  He looked young—maybe early thirties—but his eyes…

  They held wisdom.

  A black ponytail tied behind him. Sleeves rolled. Pouch full of hand-ground medicine by his hip.

  “He’s lost a lot of blood,” Haneul said. “But he’s strong. He’ll live.”

  I exhaled in relief.

  Baekho opened one eye.

  “Told you… I’m not dying today,” he muttered.

  “Quiet,” Haneul said flatly. “Save your strength.”

  I turned to Haneul.

  “You have skill. More than most I’ve seen—even in the palace.”

  He bowed slightly. “I only serve where I’m needed.”

  I nodded. “You served where it mattered.”

  As dawn drew near, Haneul completed the treatment.

  But I wasn’t just a prince—I was trained in medicine too.

  So of course… I stepped in to assist. I helped bind Baekho’s chest. Applied pressure. Checked for swelling. I had studied healing since childhood.

  “Stay here for the night,” I told him.

  “Wangja Ma-ma… I can’t. I have to be with you. Always.”

  I paused, then said gently:

  “I need you to rest. Replenish your strength.

  If I lose you… if I lose someone I trust—who can I trust in the future?”

  Baekho’s head lowered. Tears quietly fell from his eyes.

  “Yes, Wangja Ma-ma…”

  I stepped out the door.

  The breeze hit me softly. The sun was going down, painting the sky in gold and fire. The leaves rattled above, whispering the secrets of the wind.

  For the first time…

  The villagers had full stomachs.

  They devoured the five gorillas I had brought them with laughter, with tears, with the quiet awe of survival turning into comfort.

  I made my way back to the palace. From a distance, I caught a familiar pair of eyes—

  Eunchae.

  He sprinted toward me with all his might—

  And tripped.

  Hard.

  “Wangja Ma-ma!” he gasped from the ground, arms sprawled. “Jungjeon Ma-ma is heading to your quarters!”

  In a flash—

  I disappeared.

  Eunchae blinked, confused, still face-down in the dirt.

  Meanwhile, Sohwa was already in my chamber, doing her best to stall my mother.

  “My dear Jinseo-ya,” I heard my mother call as she approached.

  I splashed my face with water, wiped off the dust, and rushed to put on my sleeping robe. Then I ran toward her with my best innocent grin.

  “Eomma!” I chirped, throwing myself into her arms.

  She held me close, stroking my hair.

  “My dear Jinseo-ya… have you bathed yet?”

  “No,” I replied with a cheeky smile. “Hehe.”

  She sighed with that familiar mix of love and resignation, then guided me to bathe. Afterward, she helped me into a fresh robe, soft and warm against my skin.

  “Tomorrow morning, your Abeonim will teach you — and I hope you’ll listen well, my Jinseo-ya.”

  “My precious boy,” she whispered as she kissed my forehead. “Sleep well.”

  She returned to her chamber.

  Moments later, from outside, I heard chaotic footsteps.

  Eunchae burst into the room, panting like a winded dog.

  “Wangja Ma-ma, are you—”

  He didn’t finish.

  He collapsed face-first in front of me, completely out of breath.

  Typical Eunchae.

  A soft knock came at the door.

  Before I could answer, it creaked open.

  “Wangja Ma-ma,” Mirae peeked in, her eyes sparkling. “We brought something for you.”

  Hana and Yura followed behind, each carrying a tray.

  “Fresh fruit and honey tea,” Yura said gently, her calm smile glowing in the candlelight.

  “And bean rice cakes!” Mirae added, bouncing over to the table.

  Hana knelt beside me and placed a polished wooden training sword by my side.

  “In case you get bored,” she said with a sly grin.

  I smiled. “Are you three trying to bribe me?”

  “No,” Mirae smirked as she flopped down beside me. “We’re just keeping you from brooding.”

  The three of them settled on the floor, surrounding the low table.

  I looked at them—really looked. Their eyes, their smiles, their warmth—

  It felt like home. A strange, unexpected comfort I didn’t know I needed.

  Mirae leaned closer, eyes glinting mischievously.

  “You took down five assassins and ten bandits today. Are you secretly a beast?”

  I chuckled. “Maybe.”

  “Then we’ll just have to tame you,” Hana said, mock-serious.

  I raised an eyebrow. “All three of you?”

  “In time,” Yura answered softly, her gaze meeting mine.

  “But for now… let us just be here. With you.”

  So we sat and talked—about everything and nothing.

  The rice fields. The struggling farmers. The carpenter and the blacksmith.

  And of course, Eunchae tripping over his own feet—again.

  Mirae sat close, braiding a small strand of my hair as she hummed a lullaby she said she’d learned from an old palace maid.

  Hana leaned back, sharpening a wooden blade, her motions calm but precise.

  Yura sat by the candlelight, quietly writing in her journal, her brush strokes slow and thoughtful.

  The warmth of the room, their presence, the soft flicker of candle flames—it lulled me into a rare moment of peace.

  Later that night, the door creaked open.

  Baekho slipped in silently.

  He wasn’t supposed to be here.

  But of course, he never listened.

  Wordless, he stepped forward and placed something on the table beside me.

  A bloodied strip of black cloth...

  And a small charm.

  A wolf fang, dipped in dried black ink.

  I picked it up between my fingers. Cold. Sharp. Heavy with meaning.

  “This was on one of them,” Baekho said quietly.

  My fingers closed around it.

  “Black Fang…” I whispered.

  The name alone tasted like ash.

  Old stories. Warnings in the dark.

  Mercenaries. Bandits. Assassins. No loyalty. No mercy. No faces.

  Only missions.

  Only blood.

  “So…” I murmured, eyes narrowing. “They’ve crawled out of their holes.”

  That could only mean one thing.

  “I disturbed their nest,” I muttered. “And now… I’ve put fear into their hearts.”

  “I have to keep my guard up. If they dare touch my family… they’ll pay with their lives.”