CHAPTER 5
Sihyun noticed the sorcerer chain wrapped around his ankle
His body tensed.
Muwon was still beside him.
The prince lay on his side, one arm draped lazily across Sihyun's waist as if he belonged there—as if last night hadn't been a forced ritual but something chosen.
Sihyun gritted his teeth. The nerve.
He carefully lifted the prince's arm, his movements slow and deliberate, like handling a venomous snake. But just as he was about to slip out of bed, a firm grip seized his wrist.
"Going somewhere?"
Muwon's voice was rough with sleep, but there was amusement laced within it.
Sihyun tensed, casting him a sharp glare.
"Let go"
Muwon didn't. Instead, his dark eyes slowly opened, locking onto Sihyun with that same unreadable expression he always wore.
"You can barely stand,"
he noted, gaze flicking down to the sorcerer's trembling fingers.
"Where exactly do you think you're going?"
Sihyun hated that he was right. His body felt drained, the aftermath of the ritual still weighing on him. Damn it. He gritted his teeth and yanked his wrist free.
"Anywhere that isn't here."
Muwon exhaled a slow breath, watching as Sihyun pushed himself up, wincing as he did. Stubborn, as always.
"If you collapse before making it to the door, I'm not carrying you,"
Muwon said idly, stretching out against the pillows.
Sihyun shot him a glare over his shoulder.
"I wouldn't let you touch me again even if I was
dying"
Muwon smirked.
"You said that yesterday too, and yet—"
Sihyun hurled a pillow at his face.
The prince caught it effortlessly, chuckling to himself as Sihyun stormed toward the door, his steps shaky but determined.
Even as he left, Muwon could still see it—the faintest trace of red still glowing in his eyes.
The ritual had worked. But they still had a long way to go.
The King's Chamber
Muwon stood before his father's throne, the weight of the night still clinging to his skin. He hadn't slept much—his body still tingled from the unfamiliar sensation of magic seeping into his curse mark. It was subtle, like an ember buried deep beneath the surface, but the pain had dulled, just for a moment.
The room smelled of incense, thick and cloying. A handful of shamans stood in a loose semicircle before the king, their robes whispering as they shifted. The head shaman, an older man with sunken eyes, studied Muwon for a long moment before speaking.
"Your Highness, how do you feel?"
Muwon exhaled slowly.
"Different."
He rolled his shoulder, testing.
"The pain lessened for a while last night."
A murmur passed through the shamans. Some exchanged glances, others nodded as if this confirmed what they already knew.
"Then the blood of the demon sorcerer truly works,"
one of them muttered.
The king's fingers tapped against the armrest of his throne.
"How much?"
Muwon met his father's gaze.
"Not enough."
He hesitated, then admitted, "But it's a start."
The king hummed, thoughtful.
"And the boy?"
Muwon's jaw tightened.
"Alive."
A slight frown pulled at the king's lips.
"Hmph. I suppose that's all that matters—for now."
The head shaman cleared his throat.
"It will take time, Your Majesty. The process must continue every night until the curse is fully broken."
Muwon already knew that. He had known the moment the ritual began, when he felt the first flicker of relief. But hearing it spoken aloud made it feel heavier, more real.
"Then it will continue,"
the king said.
"No matter how long it takes."
The finality in his voice settled over the room like dust. There was no room for argument, no hesitation.
Muwon glanced down at his palm, flexing his fingers. The ember of magic still lingered beneath his skin. It had been warm, almost… familiar. He had expected the ritual to be unbearable, for the power of a demon sorcerer to feel foreign and unnatural. Instead, it had seeped into him as if it had always belonged there.
He wasn't sure if that thought was comforting or unsettling.
The Palace Garden
The late morning sun cast soft golden light over the palace garden, filtering through the cherry blossom trees. The scent of fresh earth and blooming flowers clung to the air, carried by the occasional breeze. Beneath a shaded pavilion, Muwon sat with his childhood friends, Lee Dohyun and Jang Taejin, their usual spot when they had something to discuss—or when they simply wanted to escape the rigid atmosphere of the court.
Dohyun leaned back against a wooden column, absently spinning a small tea cup between his fingers.
"You look like you barely slept, Your Highness,"
he mused, his lips quirking in amusement.
"Was the demon sorcerer that much of a handful?"
Muwon didn't rise to the teasing. He exhaled, resting his elbows on the wooden table between them.
"It wasn't as I expected."
Taejin, ever the quiet observer, arched a brow.
"What did you expect?"
Muwon pressed his fingers together, thoughtful.
"Pain. Resistance. Chaos."
He shook his head.
"Instead, it felt… natural."
Dohyun hummed, watching him closely.
"And that doesn't worry you?"
Muwon met his gaze.
"Should it?"
"You tell me."
Dohyun shrugged.
"You spent the night with a demon sorcerer, and somehow, you don't seem disgusted by it. If anything, you seem… intrigued."
Muwon didn't respond immediately. He could still feel the lingering warmth of Sihyun's magic from the night before, like a faint echo beneath his skin. It was unnerving how easily his body had accepted it.
Taejin, who had been silent for most of the exchange, finally spoke.
"If it's working, that's all that matters."
His voice was even, practical.
"We can't afford to question it too much."
Dohyun let out a low chuckle.
"Of course, the general's son would say that."
He stretched his arms lazily before adding,
"Still, I'm surprised you're so calm about this, Muwon. If it were me, I'd be watching my back every second. Sorcerers aren't exactly known for their loyalty."
"Neither are noblemen,"
he countered.