He had already been lost enough…
and somehow he became even more lost after the prince said:
"You seem excited to welcome me today!!"
The prince said it while tapping his shoulder lightly, smiling brightly,
then walked inside as the lights—those same ones that suddenly went out—came back all at once,
making everything around him clear again.
There was no one there but him from the servants.
The prince looked oddly happy to see him, for a reason he didn't know.
And the man with the violet eyes… still hadn't looked at him.
Not even for a single second.
And he was already in enough trouble.
Mostly because of the murderous glare the head servant gave him—
a glare full of all the screaming that was waiting for him later.
He stepped back after turning around,
leaving them with enough food and enough problems of their own,
while he himself was certain something different from the novel's events was about to happen.
"What in the world were you doing, greeting His Highness like some lunatic?"
The one speaking was the head servant—Sanjoong, apparently.
Jinho rubbed the back of his head nervously,
unable to think of a single thing to say.
"We will discuss what you did tonight."
Jinho stayed silent as he watched Sanjoong drag over a whole set of dishes
and place them on a rolling table meant for transporting food.
His wrist wasn't in any condition to even carry a plate properly,
let alone push a heavy cart like that.
"Sir… my arm is already twisted. Can I help with something lighter instead?"
Sanjoong replied with a sarcastic smile—
and another servant gave Jinho a shove forward,
as if telling him to hurry up and pull the cart already.
So he obeyed, choosing not to say anything
because he really wasn't ready to die tonight.
He placed his hands on the cart and began pulling it slowly,
trying to hide every flinch of pain the closer he got.
But then he felt someone's eyes piercing right through him.
It was the man with the violet eyes—
who stared at him calmly
and refused to look away, even when Jinho met his gaze back.
Like he was challenging him to a staring contest he didn't want to lose.
Jinho finally lowered his eyes as he arrived
and began placing dishes on the table,
taking the empty ones in one hand—
which made him slower than everyone else.
Then one of the knights said:
"Hurry and bring me a bottle of wine."
His sharp expression—caused by the pain—
looked almost like arrogance.
He didn't mean it at all.
He was just holding back a scream,
so his eyes were doing the screaming for him.
"Lower your eyes when you're being ordered."
The same knight snapped again, clearly offended.
Jinho dragged himself to where the wine bottles were kept.
He walked back quietly, opened it,
and poured some for them.
His hands shook every time he lifted the bottle
because of how much it hurt.
The skin around his wrist had already turned red—
and was starting to shift to blue
from not being treated or even rested.
One of the maids reached out her hand,
touching his wrist in a fake "helping" gesture
that was clearly meant to hurt him more.
And she succeeded.
He gasped sharply, pulling his hand away,
accidentally knocking the glass
and spilling the drink across the table.
The prince stood up from his chair, furious,
because they had ruined his celebration.
Silence filled the entire hall—
a tense, waiting silence.
Hearts trembled.
Minds screamed without sound,
waiting for punishment to fall.
But the man with violet eyes finally spoke:
"Your Highness, Jinho is injured.
That's why he made a mistake."
Jinho kept his eyes on the ground—
refusing to lift his head.
He had already changed the fate of being bullied
into something closer to a simple scolding from the prince.
But when he heard the Captain of the Knights speak up for him,
a strange comfort washed through him.
As if—even if the whole world stood against him—
he would still be safe
as long as that man was standing behind him.
"Who said I was going to shout at him?
I only asked for the servants to leave, and for them to come back once we were done."
The prince said that while drunk, the wine he'd had out of sheer happiness still clouding his senses.
Junho hurried to clean the place first, using one of the towels hanging beneath the dish-cart.
After a few minutes—long enough to make sure he had cleaned it somewhat decently—
he stepped outside with the others in complete silence, a silence so heavy it almost echoed.
Even his heart, beating wildly and forming a tight knot inside his chest, brought him no comfort.
It only made him more aware of that growing urge to kneel… and beg for his life.
He entered the kitchen, only to have the servants surround him, forming pressure around him—
a pressure so suffocating he wished the ground would split open and swallow him whole.
He'd gladly stay buried alone there, rather than endure those gazes.
He inhaled deeply, released the breath from his lungs, and forced out a voice of false confidence:
"I wasn't wrong… but even so, I apologize for the trouble."
Head Servant:
"I'm astonished you admitted it without being forced.
Still, the cleaning of the palace will fall on you—and on her."
He pointed at the maid who had smiled at him earlier when he called for someone to cut the vegetables.
She must have been the maid who had accepted Junho in the original story.
A petite girl, with freckles under one eye, wide brown eyes, and soft brown hair braided neatly over her shoulders.
She was gentle—almost too gentle. And far too naïve to accept the task she was given without a word.
"You know it isn't fair to make only us clean up after a feast held across the entire palace,"
Junho said, hands on his hips, his expression still not comprehending what he'd just heard.
But what choice did he have?
If he didn't obey, he would die at the emperor's hands…
and if not, he'd die from the labor itself.
Head Servant:
"That's none of my concern. If you don't do your work, you'll be punished.
And it'd be better for you to comply than force me to inform the emperor.
He won't be as merciful as the Crown Prince."
Junho rolled his eyes but swallowed his anger.
He took a small ice cube and pressed it against his hand to reduce the swelling—
so it would be ready for work.
Meanwhile, the rest of the servants went off to their resting places, wearing smiles and looks of disdain.
They're servants just like me…
What superiority do they think they have over me?
The girl approached him once everyone had left.
"Don't mind them.
It's not like the cleaning will be that hard."
He wanted to be optimistic like she was, but… compared to him, that was impossible.
Junho:
"I wish I had even half your energy."
She stepped back, sat on one of the chairs in front of him, rested her hands on her cheeks, and stared at him with curious eyes.
He didn't know why that curiosity appeared so suddenly—
but it startled him, tugging at that fear inside his chest.
"You're not Junho… are you?"