SILIN

There's a bird chirping.

I hear it.

"Princess!"

The door flies open, the same time my eyes do. I instantly sit up, my fingertips flying up to the skin of my throat. I grope my neck— breathing uncontrollably. The feeling of death still lingers on it.

But there are no marks.

And I look up at the woman who'd woken me up.

"Oh, dear."

"Did you have a nightmare?" She says, gathering her dress and hurrying to my side. "You slept late again, didn't you? How many times will I have to tell you to get you to listen to me?"

I can't believe this.

"...Nan."

She's in front of me.

Nan is alive.

"My," She shakes her head, suddenly gripping my face between her hands. The feeling of her soft, wrinkled fingertips is too real against my cheeks that I stand completely still.

"You're scaring me, dear. What is up with you?"

I throw my arms around her. And she makes a surprised noise, as I pull her tightly against my chest. My heart is beating so heavily inside of my body that I can barely swallow.

How?

...how?

She's real. The scent of her is the scent that I remember— rosemary and warm, honey broth. Her warmth pulses under my chilled fingers.

I pull away, staring into her warm, stunned eyes.

But she had died years ago, from a hidden sickness inside her heart. The palace doctors had discovered it much too late.

"Alright, Silin." She titters, smoothing down my rumpled, dark hair. She's convinced that I had the worst nightmare. "Everything's fine, dear. Sometimes our heads get the better of u—"

But no. She's wrong.

A slow smile spreads on my lips.

"Nan."

"Hm?" She pauses in the middle of waving out the candle burning on the nightstand besides my bed. Her expression is innocent— unknowing.

But I know.

God had given me a second chance. He'd heard my screams, and had brought me back from hell.

So I could drag down Han along with me.

"What's today's date?"

_______________________________

The winter of 1586.

I had gone back five years in time.

I was still Princess Silin, of the Royal Asura Family. Still Princess, and a supposedly naive, nineteen-year old girl. A girl who knew nothing but a fairy-tale romance and blue, sunny skies.

My dress crumples underneath my fist as I walk.

In less than two months, my father would arrange my marriage with Han, who was heir to the second-most powerful Clan in South Korea. He would arrange me with him whether I liked it or not.

I had to become more powerful.

I didn't know the exact steps to take Han down in the most devastating way possible, but that much was clear. I couldn't become the powerless puppet of a Queen.

I knock on the door of the Palace Healer.

The Healer is a old man. He was a kind man, who had been loyal to the Asura Clan his entire life. His skills were unmatched in all of South Korea.

"Your Highness," He says, bowing his head. The inside of the infirmary is thick with the scent of herbs and medicine. "What brings you here, my lady? Are you ill?"

"Not me." I say. "My Nan. She's in my room— will you check up on her? She seems ill in her heart."

His eyes slightly widen at the mention of my caretaker. And I have to press back a smile, as he quickly nods and stuffs a variety of herbs into his bag. Then he hurries off.

I remember how he had tried the hardest to bring her back from death when her illness had been in its last stage. He had cried even harder for her than I had.

He held feelings for my Nan.

This time, he would not cry for her sake.

I gather my dress in my hands, tucking a strand of loose hair over the curve of my ear. Then I walk in the other direction, my steps full of purpose and unhurried haste.

There wasn't a single hour to waste.

In the year of 1586, Jimin would still be trapped within the walls of that damn tavern.

________________________________

The racket of the tavern is loud enough to reach me even before I get there, all the way down the street. I'm already dressed in commoner clothing, my hair rumpled and in ragged leather shoes. I'd specially borrowed an extra pair from the stable keeper.

I'd walked the entire way from the Royal Palace down to the village, without anyone knowing. I'd only told my Nan, who promised to cover for me with a sigh.

Even when I was an ignorant girl from before, I'd loved to sneak down to the villages whenever I could. She'd always covered for me.

But this time, it's different.

I run a fingertip over the coals of an unlit fire and rub a streak of ash on my cheek. Then I rub some on my neck, despite the strong scent of dirt and soot.

Jimin had used to tell me a couple things about himself, during the rare days that I had no work and he'd bring me evening tea.

He had used to work at the tavern in town, to pay off the massive debt that his alcoholic father had towards the owner. He was only able to work as a Palace servant after he had paid it off.

I remember the one thing he had said about the tavern keeper, other than how vicious he was.

He hated the wealthy.

So now with my face dirtied with ash, I enter the tavern. The air stinks of beer— rough laughter fills the entire room. Glass clinks against glass, and there's an aroma of meat cooking on the fire.

I recognize Jimin the second I enter the bar.

His unique amber eyes stand out too much, for me to not.

He's serving beer to a couple of already-drunk men, playing poker on the table. He looks exhausted— hollow. He is way too young to be in such a rough environment. He also looks too underweight, as if he hadn't eaten a proper meal in days.

He passes out heavy mugs of beer. But then I glimpse a smirk play out on one of the men's lips.

Jimin doesn't see it.

When he hands the mug to him, I see him purposely latch on. The moment Jimin takes his fingers off the handle, he lets go.

The beer spills all over his lap.

A sharp laugh of disbelief bursts out of me.

Unbelievable.

Had he really been working in a place like this, all this time?

The man jumps up to his feet, knocking his chair backwards. The beer drips down the front of his shirt. He starts yelling, loud enough to grab everyone's attention.

Including the tavernkeeper's.

"You clumsy little shit." He roars, intentionally sweeping the poker cards off the table. Another breath leaves my lips as the other men also get to their feet, shouting in anger.

He'd just been losing, hadn't he?

Jimin looks like he doesn't know what to do as the tavernkeeper approaches the table. His amber eyes dart wildly, and no one listens to what he has to say.

"I— I swear that he..."

Just fucking ridiculous.

The men screaming, fighting each other like some children straight out of a playground. The idiot who started all of this mess stands smiling in the corner, beer dripping down his chin and looking proud of himself.

The tavernkeeper grips a handful of Jimin's shirt. He's a bear-like man, with eyes terrifying enough to scare anyone. He raises his fisted hand, and I see the acceptance bleed into Jimin's eyes.

But I'd looked at the eyes of the man who had killed me.

Nothing scared me anymore.

"Five beers."

I scream it. And my high-pitched voice rises above the ruckus, and all the men instantly turn in my direction. Having gotten the tavernkeeper's attention, I shake out my hair and flash a smile.

"All those beers," I say, waving a hand at the shattered glass on the floor. "On me. Every single one of them."

Then I point to a wide-eyed Jimin.

"And him."

"I'll take him, too."