Chapter Text
The palace was quiet, bathed in a warm, golden hush. Outside, moonlight spilled like silver dust over the rose gardens, and a soft breeze stirred the lace curtains in the royal nursery.
The king consort smiled as he tucked the silken blankets up to his twins’ chins. His daughter, Areum, curled to the left, clinging to a stuffed fox, while his son, Haneul, yawned wide and dramatic, already blinking slow, sleepy blinks.
“There,” he murmured, brushing curls from their foreheads. “Snug as kittens.”
“But Papa,” piped up Haneul, sitting up on his elbows. “We’re not sleepy yet.”
“We wanna hear a story!” chimed Areum, eyes sparkling even in the dim candlelight.
Their father raised an amused brow, sinking onto the edge of the bed between them. “A story? At this hour? What kind of tale do you two troublemakers want this time?”
“The one you told us before!” they cried in unison, nearly bouncing off the mattress.
“The one where the pretty omega prince had to fight the big bad empire!” Areum added, voice hushed but urgent, like the story itself was a secret treasure.
“Yeah!” Haneul nodded fiercely. “He was brave, even though he was an omega. He had to save everyone.”
His smile turned wistful. His gaze drifted to the firelight flickering in the hearth—soft, golden, and steady. “Ah. That story.”
He leaned back, folding his hands in his lap as the children snuggled closer, eyes wide and waiting.
“Well then,” he whispered. “Let me tell you again… the tale of Prince Hyunjin, the omega with fire in his heart and stars in his veins.”
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In the heart of the Zephyria kingdom, beneath skies painted with endless sunsets, there lived a prince whose name was whispered with reverence—a name that shimmered in the air like the first light of dawn. Prince Hyunjin, with his delicate form and striking elegance, was a living masterpiece sculpted by the hands of the gods. Every movement he made, every breath he took, seemed as though the world itself had paused in quiet admiration, caught between the wonder of the moment and the timeless beauty of his being.
His eyes—oh, his eyes—were the kind that seemed to cradle the heavens. They were dark as the deep midnight sky, but when they crinkled with laughter, when his lips curved in a smile, those eyes transformed into crescent moons, glowing with a quiet radiance. They were eyes that saw the beauty in everything, in every moment, and reflected it back into the hearts of those who gazed upon him. Those eyes, filled with warmth, tenderness, and joy, seemed to hold all the promises of a brighter tomorrow.
Beneath those crescent eyes, on the smooth skin of his cheek, there lay a single, tiny mole—a delicate mark, like a whispered secret from the stars themselves. It was a small imperfection, but one that only enhanced the allure of his face, making it even more irresistible, more endearing. It was a reminder that perfection was not something to be sought, but something that could be found in the very flaws that made him real, human, and infinitely precious.
His hair—a cascade of obsidian silk—fell in soft waves around his face, framing it with the elegance of a prince, but there was something more to it than mere beauty. It was the kind of hair that seemed to catch the light in ways that defied reason, as if the moon itself longed to touch it. His locks shimmered with a deep luster, flowing down like the rich, dark waters of a forgotten river, each strand like a soft whisper of the night wind. It was long, almost to his waist, flowing like the very essence of the evening sky itself—mysterious, endless, and full of wonder.
This prince, this vision of divine grace, was no ordinary being. He was a reflection of the sun itself—his beauty like the first rays of light spilling across the horizon, a brilliance that could not be hidden, a radiance that would not be dimmed. And so, he was named the Sunshine of Their World, for he was as much a source of light as he was a symbol of hope. His presence alone could chase away the darkness, illuminate the shadows, and remind all who beheld him that the world could still be full of wonder and light, no matter the storms it endured.
But it was not just his outward beauty that made Hyunjin a marvel; it was his soul, as delicate and rare as the most exquisite flower. As an omega, he was expected to embody the very essence of grace, to fill the world with the soft and ethereal gifts that only omegas could offer. And indeed, he did. He was a master of arts that celebrated beauty in its many forms—each one an expression of his innermost self, each one a testament to the divine touch that shaped him.
Hyunjin’s fingers, delicate and nimble, wove threads of gold and silver into fabrics so fine they seemed to shimmer with life. His embroidery was nothing short of miraculous—each stitch a prayer, each design a story woven from the fabric of dreams. His work was not just seen, it was felt—by the heart, by the soul. Each piece he created seemed to hum with a melody only those with the deepest of hearts could hear. The tapestries he crafted could tell tales of forgotten kingdoms, of lost love, of battles fought not with swords but with hearts full of passion.
He was not only a master of thread but also of song. His voice, when it rose in melody, was like the wind through the trees on a summer evening—soft, sweet, yet powerful in its quiet strength. His songs carried the weight of the heavens, lifting the spirits of all who heard them. When he sang, it was as if the world itself paused in reverence. His voice was not merely heard, it was felt—vibrating deep in the chest, stirring the very soul, like the lingering warmth of the sun after it has dipped below the horizon.
And when he danced… oh, when he danced, the world seemed to stop spinning. His movements were poetry in motion, as if his body spoke a language that only the universe could understand. He glided across the floor like a breeze, light and graceful, his steps as fluid as water flowing over smooth stones. Every pirouette, every twirl was a song unto itself, a story of beauty, of grace, and of a world untouched by cruelty or hardship. It was as though the earth itself bent in awe of his elegance, and for a moment, time itself ceased to exist.
But perhaps the most extraordinary thing about Hyunjin was the rarity of his being. Male omegas were but a whisper in the wind, an anomaly in a world that often revered the strength of alphas and the steadfastness of betas. To be an omega was already a blessing, a gift, but to be a male omega, so breathtakingly beautiful and talented, was unheard of. It made him a jewel of unparalleled worth—a treasure sought by kings, queens, and those who understood the value of such rarity. And yet, for all his beauty and grace, Hyunjin never once let it cloud his heart. He was not a crown to be worn or a gem to be displayed. He was a living, breathing soul, a prince who embodied all the qualities of the purest kind of love—gentleness, kindness, and light.
The world had never seen a creature like him—a beauty that not even the most skilled artists could capture, a grace that no dancer could ever quite replicate. Hyunjin was truly a gift from the stars—a prince whose existence was woven from the fabric of dreams, whose beauty was not just something to be admired but something that could heal the heart. And though the kingdom knew he was rare, no one could fathom just how precious he truly was. For he was not just the Sunshine of Their World—he was the world itself, wrapped in skin and soul, a shining star that would never fade.
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One evening, as Hyunjin strolled down the grand corridors of the palace, the air around him seemed to hum with admiration. His footsteps echoed softly against the polished marble floors, the intricate tapestries on the walls dancing in the breeze as though they, too, recognized his presence. Courtiers and noblemen alike paused in their conversations, turning their gazes toward him, their eyes filled with awe.
"Ah, the sunshine of our world graces us once again," one of the older courtmen murmured, his voice heavy with reverence.
Another man, younger and dressed in fine silks, leaned toward his companion and whispered, "Look at him. His grace, his elegance—it’s like a dream. The way he walks... it's like the world itself bends to his steps."
Hyunjin’s lips curled into a soft, almost shy smile as he continued down the hall. His eyes, bright with the light of the candles that flickered in the sconces along the walls, swept over the men. They greeted him with polite bows, but he could sense their admiration, their silent praise. It was no secret that Prince Hyunjin was adored by everyone—his beauty, grace, and warmth made him beloved not only by the royal court but by the entire kingdom.
Despite the praise, Hyunjin felt a tightness in his chest, a restlessness that lingered in the air around him. He nodded politely to the courtiers but quickened his pace, his feet carrying him toward a quieter, hidden part of the palace—the garden he often sought for solace.
The corridors grew narrower, and the once-vibrant chatter of the court faded into nothingness. At last, he arrived at a hidden door, almost imperceptible against the stone wall. He pressed a small, silver button on the side, and the door slid open with a soft hiss. Stepping through, he entered a lush, secret garden that few knew about. The scent of jasmine and roses filled the air, and the sound of a distant fountain soothed his senses. The garden was his sanctuary—a place where he could be free of the weight of his princely duties.
There, waiting by a stone bench under the canopy of an ancient oak tree, was Han—his best friend, his confidant, and the one of the few who truly understood him.
“Took you long enough?” Han teased, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
Hyunjin sighed and plopped down onto the stone bench, his shoulders slumping dramatically. “It’s so hard to keep the soft facade on," he pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. "When can I show off my swordsmanship, Han? When will they see that I’m more than just a delicate flower?"
Han raised an eyebrow, his gaze softening with understanding. "You know it’s not time yet. The court is still fixated on your beauty, your grace… your image as the perfect omega prince. But beneath that, Hyunjin, you have far more to offer. You always have."
Hyunjin gave him a pointed look, lips quirking slightly. “I know, I know. But it’s frustrating. They only see what they want to see. They don’t know what I’m capable of.”
The truth was, Hyunjin had more than just delicate hands for art and a voice made for singing. He had a sharp mind, one that could devise complex war tactics and strategies—skills that no one in the palace had ever seen. He had been trained, in secret, by Han and his two personal guards. The training sessions, though rare, had made him proficient in the art of combat and tactics, but he kept it hidden, not wanting to break the fragile image of the prince the kingdom adored.
Han grinned and clapped Hyunjin on the back. “Well, you’re going to have to wait a little longer, my friend. The time will come, and when it does, you’ll make them all see you for who you truly are.”
Hyunjin rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "Fine, fine. But for now, I’m going to do something that makes me feel alive. No more pretty dresses and royal duties for a while."
With that, he stood and began to remove the ornate robes that marked him as prince. Beneath the layers of silk and fine cloth, he revealed a more practical outfit—a simple tunic, loose pants, and soft boots—perfect for the physical training he was about to undergo.
Han's eyes widened slightly, his usual teasing expression softening into something akin to admiration. “Whoo... no matter how many times I see it, how is your body like that?” he muttered, stepping forward.
Before Hyunjin could reply, Han reached out and, with a swift motion, pulled him closer by the waist, his grip firm yet gentle. The unexpected touch sent a brief flutter through Hyunjin’s chest. Hyunjin let out a small gasp as Han's arm wrapped swiftly around his waist, drawing him close. The sudden pull had him stumbling slightly, both hands instinctively pressing against Han’s broad shoulders to steady himself. Their bodies were almost flush, the distance between their faces a mere breath.
The garden’s soft light, filtered through the canopy of vines, danced across Hyunjin’s cheeks, which had turned a delicate shade of rose. His long lashes fluttered, and for a moment, the only sound between them was the quiet rush of wind brushing through leaves.
“Oh?” Han smirked, eyes tracing every detail of the omega’s delicate features—his crescent-moon eyes, the mole beneath one shimmering gaze, the silken curtain of hair that cascaded over his shoulder. “No matter what, you’ll always be the pretty omega prince.”
Hyunjin rolled his eyes, though his flustered expression betrayed the warmth curling in his chest. “You make it sound like I’m some glass ornament,” he muttered, though the curve of his lips hinted at a smile.
“Well,” Han said, tilting his head, “You are breathtaking. But I’ve seen the fire behind those pretty eyes. That makes you dangerous too.” His hand at Hyunjin’s waist tightened just slightly.
Hyunjin’s breath caught.
He leaned in, gaze flicking from Han’s lips to his eyes, as if weighing something unspoken. And then—soft as silk, brief as a whisper—he pressed a gentle kiss to Han’s lips. Just a peck, barely there, but it made Han’s breath hitch, his heart lurch.
They paused.
Then Han’s hand found the small of Hyunjin’s back, and their foreheads leaned together. They stayed like that for a while, exchanging quiet breaths, letting the world fall away.
“You’re going to get me in trouble, rose ,” Han murmured.
“You started it,” Hyunjin replied, poking Han’s cheek,“Always so smug—minister’s son and all—but you still can’t win in archery practice.”
“Because someone keeps cheating with those distracting eyelashes.”
Hyunjin gasped in mock offense. “How dare you accuse royalty of such treachery!”
Han grinned. “You’re only royalty in the throne room. Here, you’re just Hyunjin. My Hyunjin.”
Hyunjin melted at the words, giggling as Han pecked his lips again, then once more, and another, like a trail of petals across a river.
They were friends, yes. But there was something else beneath the surface—something fragile and lovely and completely forbidden. Nobody in the palace would ever imagine the minister’s clever, sarcastic beta son tangled in soft laughter and secret kisses with the kingdom’s beloved omega prince.
Their stolen moment lingered, filled with gentle touches, sweet bickering, and the kind of laughter that only happens in places hidden from the world.
But then—
A deliberate cough broke the stillness.
"Are we disrupting something?" a familiar voice asked, laced with amusement.
Startled, the pair turned to see two figures standing at the edge of the garden—Chan and Changbin, Hyunjin’s personal bodyguards. Both alphas, both fiercely loyal. Chan had his arms crossed, his brow raised in a way that said I saw everything, while Changbin looked positively gleeful, his smirk nearly splitting his face.
Hyunjin blinked, still wrapped partially in Han’s arms, then straightened quickly, cheeks turning crimson. “I—uh—we were just—”
“Training,” Han supplied smoothly, not moving an inch. “Mental warm-ups. Strategic bonding. You wouldn’t understand.”
Chan raised a brow. “Mm. Must be some new form of diplomacy.”
Changbin grinned. “Should we give you two more... privacy?”
Hyunjin groaned and covered his face with his hands. “I hate all of you.”
Han chuckled, finally letting Hyunjin go—but not before giving his waist a small, possessive squeeze. “Don’t worry, rose. They won’t tell. Right, gentlemen?”
The alphas exchanged glances. Chan sighed. “Unfortunately, we're sworn to silence.”
“But we’ll still make fun of you for the rest of your lives,” Changbin added cheerfully.
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The clang of metal echoed through the hidden garden, mingling with birdsong and the rustle of leaves. Hyunjin’s arm extended in a practiced arc, sword glinting in the golden light. His form, though slender, moved with precision—elegant and fluid as a dancer’s, but sharpened with purpose.
“Keep your wrist steady,” Chan instructed, stepping behind him to adjust the angle. “There. Perfect.”
“I swear, if someone saw this, they’d think we were training a royal ballerina, not a swordsman,” Changbin teased, though pride gleamed in his eyes.
“I am graceful,” Hyunjin retorted, lifting his chin. “Why shouldn’t a warrior be beautiful too?”
Han clapped from the sidelines. “Well said! That’s my baby! ”
They continued for another round—Chan pushing Hyunjin’s stance to be firmer, Changbin calling out timing and strikes. Hyunjin, flushed and breathless, met every challenge with quiet fire. His body moved like a ribbon in the wind, but the strikes he landed were fast, precise, and increasingly powerful.
After a final spin and parry, Chan called it. “Enough for today. You’ll melt into the grass if we keep going.”
Hyunjin dropped the wooden blade and let himself fall dramatically to the soft moss. “I am melting.”
“You’re doing better every day,” Changbin said, lowering himself to sit cross-legged beside him.
Han flopped down with a satisfied grunt, tugging Hyunjin gently onto his lap. “You’re going to be better than half the palace guards if you keep this up.”
Hyunjin leaned his head back on Han’s shoulder, panting softly, the rise and fall of his chest slowing with each breath.
The moment of peace was shattered only by hushed voices—Chan and Changbin talking low between themselves.
“…another one?”
“Third kingdom this month.”
“Do you think they’ll come this far?”
Hyunjin’s lashes lifted, his curiosity piqued. “What are you talking about?”
Chan looked at him, hesitating for a beat, then sighed. “We heard a rumor. A foreign empire from beyond the western seas has been attacking neighboring territories. Silent invasions. Quick, brutal. No one knows their name—they leave no banner behind.”
Hyunjin’s brows drew together. “But… we’re safe, right?”
“Yeah,” Chan nodded, reassuring. “We’re far inland, shielded by mountain ranges. Our military defenses are strong, especially after recent reforms. No one would dare pick a fight with the Zephyria kingdom.”
Changbin added, “Plus, your brother’s led most of the new defense protocols. All three alpha princes have leveled up, so to speak.”
Hyunjin’s eyes lit up at the mention of his siblings. “Hyung has grown so much stronger… I watched him last week in the courtyard. His stance was flawless. And Second Brother’s archery has improved, too. Even Third Brother’s strategy matches the best generals now.”
Changbin grinned. “They’ve all stepped up since the King started preparing for retirement. The future of the empire is in good hands.”
Hyunjin lowered his gaze, tracing a pattern on Han’s sleeve. “I’m proud of them. Really. I just… I wish I could train like this in public too. I want to be more than the ‘pretty prince.’”
Han’s arms tightened around his waist and he leaned in, his voice warm and low. “You’re already doing great, rose. You’re stronger than anyone gives you credit for. You’ve got fire in your veins.”
Chan smiled softly. “You don’t need an audience to prove your worth. We see you. You’re already a protector.”
Changbin leaned back, arms behind his head. “And when the time comes, they’ll see too. The sunshine prince isn’t just light—he’s heat. Burn them if they touch what’s yours.”
Hyunjin blinked, a smile blooming through the emotion thick in his throat. Nestled in Han’s lap, flanked by two loyal alphas who saw him for all he was, he felt something swell in his chest.
He wasn’t just the empire’s beloved gem. He was becoming its hidden blade.
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