#bittersqxtch

She wasn't supposed to be here, she knew that much. She was an unfinished text, an abandoned story, filled with basic knowledge yet lacking identity. No lines, no motivations, no tragic past to fuel fight or flight of any kind. She was merely a figure to recommend goods at stalls in the market, sweep leaves from the paths in the autumn, or sometimes to stand among the crowd at the edges of events made for those of significance.

Among the limited spaces she visited, these ruins were her favourite setting by far. A forgotten temple tucked away in a part of the kingdom even the gods refused to look at. She didn't move as if wading through water within these walls, or feel the prick of someone's prying gaze on her at all times. The world felt looser here, the air lighter.

"I did not think this place old enough to warrant a haunting," a cold voice cut through the quiet.

She startled, turning to watch a man step through the arch of broken stone, his silhouette casting long shadows across the cold floor of the temple. His hair was dark as ravens, an ornate golden hairpin keeping half of it away from his face while the rest hung loosely over his shoulders. His black robes fluttered like smoke in the breeze, golden threadwork shaping the flames of a phoenix on his maroon overcoat.

Even without this royal crest glimmering on his chest, she would have recognised him. The Second Prince. The cursed one. She had never seen him before, not in person, but she knew it was him at a glance. Whispers of him filled every corridor and passed by every market stall. They said that he was born under a blood moon. That his mother, the former queen, died howling in his presence. That Belladonna flowers bloomed wherever he set foot, as if death itself walked with him.

His face was sharp in every sense of the word. Eyes like shattered glass, burning with a cold fire—unforgiving, fierce, and rimmed with sleepless fury. Frown lines cut across his brow, his lips comfortably curled in disdain.

She considered him for a moment before answering, "I am not a ghost."

His scowl deepened. "Not a ghost...a fool, then," he said, the coldness of his tone making the air between them freeze. "This temple was abandoned years ago. No one comes here anymore."

"You came here," she pointed out.

The prince's eyes flashed and he stepped forward, boots crunching over stone and gravel, bringing with him the smell of steel and crushed pine leaves. One hand rested on the hilt of his sword. "This place is forbidden. You are tresspassing."

"I did not see a sign, and there was no lock on the door."

A flash of silver, then the sting of a blade at her throat.

"You dare speak this way to me?" he hissed, staring down his nose at her. "Do you know in whose presence you stand?"

She met his glare with an eerie calmness. "You draw your blade on holy grounds. Do you know in whose presence you stand?"

Prince Kyung shifted his glare to the statues of stone surrounding them from all sides. They were not his gods...but if he were to believe what little he had been told of her, they had been his mother's. Most of their features were barely recognisable, but he felt the weight of their stares press on his armed hand nonetheless.

Sharply sheathing his sword as if denied a pleasure he had looked forward to, he sent her a glare so fierce it was a wonder she didn't turn to ash. "You are not supposed to speak with me," he growled out, "Let alone in the manner which you are daring to do so. People like you avert their eyes. Bow, tremble...hold their tongues."

She tilted her head at him. "Is that what you wish me to do? Cower at your feet like the rest?"

His jaw ticked. Her immunity to the threat of his mere presence was throwing him off balance. She was someone with no title, no past, and most probably no future either. And yet she dared to meet his gaze with a calmness that mocked the chaos rooted in his very bones.

"What I speak of is not something as meagre as a wish or preference, but the etiquette of the kingdom," he replied through gritted teeth. "Should we meet again, by some misfortune, you would do well to remember your place then. I will not be so forgiving the next time you act so brazen."

Her lips stretched into a smile that seemed to tilt the ground he stood on. "I do believe, Your Highness, that the next time we meet will play out just as this encounter has. After all, the margins are a place of time loops for the unaware."

Prince Kyung studied her silently as if she were an irritating mistake on an otherwise perfect parchment, which he could neither erase nor leave be. He didn't know what she had meant by unaware and margins, but he had more important matters to attend to than bickering with a peasant in an abandoned temple.

He swept his robes over the dust and leaves between them as he turned to the exit. "Do not linger here," he warned coldly over his shoulder. "The realm of ghosts is unforgiving to mortals. I would know."