Her voice was low and clear, cutting through the noise and chaos of the inn. Ryang of House Myeonghyeon. It was the first time he had heard his name spoken by an outsider. Ryang’s smile faltered slightly, and Kyeong'ui, her gaze unwavering, studied his face, trying to decipher his silence. Kyeong'ui recognized him. That face, so refined and elegant, had stood out at the tea party, a stark contrast to the rough-hewn islanders. And he seemed equally out of place in this gaudy, chaotic establishment. The descendant of the legendary House Myeonghyeon was just as she had imagined.

Myeonghyeon Ryang was a handsome young man, his features exuding an air of confidence and trustworthiness. Perhaps that was why he had caught her attention at the tea party, not just his elegant attire - the neatly arranged black hat with its silver trim, the high-collared dark robe, and the light green outer robe draped over one shoulder. The silver earrings that dangled from his ears added a touch of nobility, and the deep blue silk accents on his collar and sleeves complemented his strong, determined features. Unlike most of the islanders she had encountered, with their tanned, weathered skin, his complexion was surprisingly pale and clear. She remembered his sister, who shared his fair skin, a testament to their sheltered lives within the depths of Wicheong Palace, away from the harsh sun. But Kyeong'ui's thoughts didn't linger on such details.

Ryang met Kyeong'ui's gaze without flinching, taking in every detail of her appearance that had been obscured by distance during their previous encounters at the harbor and the feast. Her small yet sturdy frame was just as he remembered, but what struck him most now were her eyes, gazing directly at him with an unwavering confidence. Intelligence and determination shone in their depths, alongside a spark of innocent curiosity. He had rarely encountered someone so young who possessed such an air of authority and composure. Surrounded as he was by those burdened with anxiety and desperation, Kyeong'ui's confident demeanor stood out.

Ryang, however, didn't answer her question directly. "Perhaps we should discuss this elsewhere, Your Highness," he suggested. "This is hardly a suitable environment for such a conversation. We have a quiet garden in the back."

As Kyeong'ui was about to reply, Hongyoo stepped forward, positioning himself between her and Ryang. "Your Highness," he whispered urgently, "a chaotic environment is preferable to a dangerous one."

Though she noticed the fear in his eyes, Kyeong'ui ignored his warning. "Lead the way to your garden," she instructed Ryang.

Ryang bowed his head. "Follow me."

Kyeong'ui followed Ryang without hesitation, her entourage trailing behind. The deeper they ventured into the inn, the quieter the surroundings became, the tension growing with every step. Courtesans bowed respectfully as they passed, and even the drunken patrons seemed to quiet down in Ryang's presence. His authority within this establishment was undeniable. They reached a high wall, a narrow, heavily guarded door set within its stone facade. The guards recognized Ryang and opened the door, revealing a hidden oasis.

Beyond the wall lay a lush garden, a hidden world of tranquility and beauty. The air was filled with the rustling of leaves and the gentle murmur of a nearby stream. Small, secluded houses were scattered amongst the trees, their presence a stark contrast to the chaos of the inn. Kyeong'ui finally began to grasp the reality of the man before her, a descendant of the esteemed Myeonghyeon family. Though she had been disappointed by their current occupation, this hidden sanctuary offered a strange sense of reassurance.

Ryang led them to a tea room overlooking a pond. The air inside was thick with the fragrance of aged tea leaves. A large window offered a panoramic view of the garden, and shelves lined the walls, filled with books, tea cups and pots. Kyeong'ui's gaze swept over the worn spines of the books, then settled on a beautiful zither resting on a stand. Is it his? The strings were free of dust, suggesting it was played regularly. She could easily imagine Ryang sitting here, his fingers plucking the strings, the melody echoing through the tranquil garden.

"Lady Seolyo called you Ryang the other day," Kyeong'ui began, turning to face him. "Is your full name Myeonghyeon Ryang?" she asked. "Lord Myeonghyeon?"

Ryang's head tilted towards her. "Such a title is undeserved," he said.

"It is a fitting honor for a descendant of such an esteemed house," Kyeong'ui insisted. "Do not dismiss it."

Ryang glanced at Hongyoo and Gahngyun Hyeok, who stood behind Kyeong'ui. "If you don't mind, Your Highness," he said, "perhaps we could speak in private."

"Of course." Kyeong'ui turned to her companions. "Wait outside."

The two men stood frozen, their gazes locked in a silent battle of wills. Kyeong'ui's eyes narrowed, her expression a mixture of impatience and disdain. Finally, they both bowed their heads, conceding to her unspoken command. Hongyoo, however, didn't leave immediately. He stepped towards Ryang, his face inches from his. Though his eyes were crinkled in a smile, his lips were curled into a sneer, his animosity clear. Ryang met his gaze without flinching.

"Do you have something to say?" Ryang asked.

Hongyoo's response was a deep, silent breath. His eyes burned with a fiery intensity, but he said nothing. He stepped aside and exited the tea room, Hyeok bowing curtly to Kyeong'ui before following him out. Hongyoo stood by the pond, his arms crossed tightly, his expression troubled. Hyeok approached him.

"What was that about?" he asked.

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"I was wondering if he was an addict," Hongyoo replied.

"Could you tell just by looking at him?"

Hongyoo glanced at Hyeok. "Addicts have a certain scent to their breath."

"And why would you even care if he's an addict?"

Hongyoo chuckled. "You've led a sheltered life, haven't you? This inn reeks of drugs. Did you see a single sober face on our way in?"

"I don't make a habit of sniffing people," Hyeok said. "How would you know?"

"I grew up surrounded by it," Hongyoo replied flatly.

Hyeok scoffed, his gaze drifting towards the tea room. "I still don't understand why she's taking such a risk," he muttered. "A private audience with that sissy pimp. Why is everyone on this damned island so arrogant? The Scions, my ass, whatever."

Hongyoo remained silent, his eyes fixed on the tea room door.

Silence fell over the tea room as Hongyoo and Hyeok exited. A gentle breeze wafted through the open windows, carrying the scent of blooming flowers and fresh leaves. It was a perfect day to enjoy the tranquility of the garden, if not for the tense situation. The clinking of teacups and the rustle of leaves against the windowpane were the only sounds that broke the silence. Kyeong'ui settled at the table, her gaze sweeping across the room, taking in every detail. The shelves were lined with books, many of which she recognized from her studies at the Sanctuary of Intellect. She even spotted a few she had enjoyed enough to reread.

Ryang prepared the tea with practiced ease. Kyeong'ui's gaze followed his hands, their movements swift and precise. His fingers were long and pale, a faint scar marring the back of his left hand. Calluses, the mark of an archer, dotted his fingertips.

"You're an archer?" Kyeong'ui asked, her voice laced with a subtle curiosity.

"I practice occasionally."

A hint of a smile touched Kyeong'ui's lips. "Do you hunt as well?" she asked. "The terrain seems well-suited for it."

"I don't enjoy killing living creatures," Ryang replied flatly.

He offered her a cup of tea. Kyeong'ui accepted the cup, inhaling the fragrant steam before taking a sip. She seemed to have no suspicions about the contents of the cup. Ryang couldn't tell if she was simply fearless or naive.

"I understand you have a sister," Kyeong'ui remarked. "I don't see her today."

"Did the Lady tell you that?" Ryang asked.

Kyeong'ui's lips curled into a faint smile as she recalled the siblings' faces. "Weren't you both at the tea party?"

"We were."

"You look so alike. It's hard to miss."

Ryang, surprised by her casual remark, couldn't help but chuckle. He quickly composed himself, however, and took a sip of his tea. The silence stretched, becoming increasingly uncomfortable. In the quiet, the scent of Kyeong'ui's perfume, a subtle blend of exotic spices, mingled with the fragrance of the tea. The scent was unfamiliar. Is it a royal perfume? Or something from Sunyahng? He looked up to find Kyeong'ui staring at him intently.

"May I ask the reason for such an intense gaze, Your Highness?" he asked.

"It's not every day I meet a descendant of such a legendary house," Kyeong'ui replied.

"I'm afraid our history isn't particularly pleasant."

Kyeong'ui tilted her head slightly. "I suppose it depends on who's telling the story," she mused. "The stories I heard from my teachers spoke of a noble house, unjustly punished for their loyalty."

"Why would your royal teachers tell a story about loyalty to a princess?" Ryang asked.

"It wasn't a story about loyalty," Kyeong'ui replied. "It was about the qualities of a true leader."

"Does Dahn teach the art of ruling to those who are not destined to inherit the throne?"

"Because the Crown Prince is not yet king," Kyeong'ui countered.

Ryang's gaze met hers. Despite her bold words, Kyeong'ui seemed completely at ease. This wasn't the first time she had expressed such ambitions, Ryang realized. He couldn't tell how long she had harbored these desires.

"If your teachers were truly wise," Ryang remarked, "they would have taught you that such stories are often embellished."

"Even embellished stories have a grain of truth," Kyeong'ui countered, her eyes sparkling with challenge. "The Myeonghyeon estate in the capital remains abandoned to this day. It belongs to no one."

A bitter smile touched Ryang's lips. "Who would buy such an ill-fated property?"

"The grounds of other Scions estates have been repurposed for minor government use," Kyeong'ui explained. "The Myeonghyeon estate remains untouched, preserved by the founder's decree. Perhaps he believed they were still alive, waiting to return."

Kyeong'ui's intentions were becoming clearer.

"Why have you sought us out?" Ryang asked. "This establishment is hardly a suitable place for a princess."

Kyeong'ui's gaze swept over him, taking in his calm demeanor and refined appearance. He was a stark contrast to the crude and vulgar people she had encountered within the inn.

"Why are you living like this?" she asked.

"This wasn't my choice," Ryang replied. "I am merely carrying on the family business."

"And you're not ashamed of your family business?" Kyeong'ui pressed.

Ryang hesitated. He couldn't deny her accusation. He hadn't chosen this path, nor was he proud of it. But it was a lucrative business, one that kept them hidden and prosperous. And the lives of those who depended on him, the weight of their cause, outweighed his guilt. He could sacrifice his family's honor for the greater good. This business, it was a sacrifice he had to make.

"No one forced your grandfather to be that loyal," Kyeong'ui said.

"Loyalty born of coercion is merely servitude," Ryang countered.

"Whether it was loyalty or servitude is irrelevant now," Kyeong'ui said dismissively. "I don't know how your grandfather escaped that fire and found his way to Birahng, but it couldn't have been easy. You didn't have to endure those hardships, to live like this. Why?"

"I can't claim to understand my grandfather's choices," Ryang admitted. "But even if I disagree with them, I cannot change the past."

"No one can change the past," Kyeong'ui agreed. "But we can choose a different future."

Her eyes, bright with determination, met his.

"I am here to forge my own future," she declared.