Chapter 229: Hana’s surprise
Her brow arched. "And what’s that?"
"Your name." His crimson eyes gleamed faintly in the sunlight, sharp and direct. "I don’t think I’ve ever heard it properly."
The answer seemed to catch her off guard. Her lips parted in surprise, then pressed together again. After a small pause, she said quietly, "You never asked."
"I’m asking now." Jae leaned just close enough for his presence to fill her space, not pressing, but undeniably near.
The courtyard seemed to grow still. For a moment, only the sound of water remained between them, flowing steady and calm. Finally, she spoke, her voice carrying a quiet strength.
"Hana."
Jae let the name roll across his tongue with care. "Hana," he repeated, deliberate, savoring each syllable. Then again, softer. "Figures. Pretty name."
Her gaze flickered, something unreadable crossing her eyes. But she covered it quickly, her shoulders straightening, her face regaining its coolness. "You shouldn’t be talking to me, Jae. You know who I spend my time with."
"Oh, I know," Jae said, his smirk tugging wider. "But I also know you’re here alone. Which means, for once, you’re not just someone else’s shadow. You’re yourself. Hana."
The way he spoke her name, slow and deliberate, made her pulse quicken against her will. She hated that it did, hated the warmth spreading beneath her composure. She held it down the only way she knew how—with firmness.
"You’re reckless," she said.
"Maybe," Jae admitted with a shrug, his voice low, unbothered. "But at least I don’t pretend otherwise. Sun does. He hides behind titles, behind his mother, behind that scowl he wears like armor. Me? I’m right here, in front of you. No games."
Her lips parted, but no words came. The honesty in his tone unsettled her more than arrogance or taunting ever could. She had expected him to sneer, to throw sharp words the way so many others did when they wanted to provoke. Instead, his voice was even, quiet, almost intimate.
The courtyard seemed to narrow around them, the arches and banners pulling closer, the sound of water louder, more insistent. The light pressed down over them, warm and steady, but she felt a chill run through her spine. Not fear—something different.
Her breath caught. She tried to steady herself, to dismiss him with a quip or cool remark, but nothing came. Instead, silence stretched between them
"You’re trying to make trouble," she said finally.
"Maybe I am," Jae said, smirk curling wider. "But you don’t seem to mind."
Silence stretched. Hana’s hand lingered in the fountain water, her fingers breaking the ripples. She didn’t look at him, not directly, but her cheeks carried the faintest heat.
Jae stood then, brushing off his hands. "I’ll let you think about it."
She blinked, looking up. "Think about what?"
"Whether you want to keep being just Sun’s girl," Jae said quietly, "or Hana."
And with that, he turned to go, his steps slow, deliberate.
Hana sat frozen, his words echoing in her head. Sun’s girl. Hana. The distinction dug under her skin, unsettling her. She had always known how people saw her—an accessory to the crown prince, proof of his charm and power. But Jae had looked at her differently.
He had said her name like it mattered.
When Jae disappeared from the courtyard, Hana exhaled shakily. For the first time in months, doubt crept into her thoughts about the role she played, about the boy who claimed her as his.
The whispers began the next morning. Students who had seen Jae and Hana by the fountain spoke in hushed tones. They hadn’t heard what was said, but the sight alone was enough to spark speculation.
Whispers in the breakfast hall, glances in the corridors, sidelong smirks in the training yard—none of it escaped notice. Jae carried himself the same as always, smirk tugging at his lips, stride calm and unhurried. He didn’t even look their way most of the time. That only fed the fire. To some, it seemed like arrogance. To others, confidence. To Hana, it was worse: she felt every stare like a weight pressing on her shoulders.
Sun heard too.
When he did, his fury was silent but dangerous. He didn’t confront Hana right away—he knew better than to show desperation—but his glare whenever her gaze strayed too long toward the courtyard said everything.
As for Jae, he kept his smirk to himself. He hadn’t needed to do more than speak. The seeds were planted.
Sun wanted Elise? Fine. Jae would show him that two could play that game.
xxxx
The dormitory wing was quieter that evening. Most students were still scattered across the training grounds, practicing footwork drills or burning off energy before supper. A few studied in the common hall, their voices low as they argued over spell diagrams. The rest had already gone to the baths.
Behind the closed door of his dorm room, Sun sat on the edge of his bed. The lantern light was steady, casting sharp shadows across the walls. His elbows rested on his knees, fingers laced tightly together. His room was as controlled as his posture: sheets tucked so sharply you could cut a finger on the corners, boots lined side by side against the wall, desk cleared except for neatly stacked scrolls and a single ink pot with a capped quill resting beside it.
Fin sprawled in the chair by the desk, long legs stretched out, one boot tapping lazily against the floor. His posture looked careless, but his eyes were alert, watching Sun with the same caution a wolf gives another wolf on edge. Two other boys—sons of noble families sworn to the crown—stood near the wall. One leaned against the stone, arms crossed; the other shifted from foot to foot, glancing between Fin and Sun as though weighing whether to speak.
Sun had been silent a long while. The only sound in the room was the faint scrape of Fin’s boot tapping and the muffled chatter from the hall outside.