[ Joseon Palace — Yuna's Chamber — One Hour Before the Coronation ]
The candle on the table was burning the wrong color. Not white. Not yellow. A faint orange pulse at the heart of the flame — appearing for a second, then vanishing. Yuna noticed it and looked away. This happened sometimes when she was tired. This was nothing. But it had happened three times this month.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Tonight is not the time for questions. Tonight is the coronation.
Suri entered quietly and began securing the golden crown in Yuna's long black hair. Her fingers were skilled and silent — ten years of service had taught her that Yuna wanted no words before important moments.
In the mirror, Yuna studied her reflection. The white royal hanbok. The crown. The wide eyes trying their best to look calm. Her mother used to say: "A true princess does not feel fear. She chooses not to show it." The difference matters.
Suri — in a low voice: "Your Highness. It is time." Yuna: "I know." She stood.
[ The Coronation Hall — Moments Later ]
A thousand candles lit the hall. The scent of incense. The court in their rows. Guards at every pillar. And on the throne at the top of the steps — the royal crown waited. Yuna stood at the entrance and took one last breath. She stepped forward. The music began. The court bowed.
And in the moment she reached the center of the hall — The music stopped. The silence came suddenly and completely wrong. Yuna looked up.
At the side door — which should have been sealed — men entered. Many of them. Wearing palace guard uniforms, but the insignia on their shoulders was not the palace insignia. It was her uncle's. Prince Rion.
He entered last. A man in his fifties, his face calm in the way of someone who made his decision long ago and has no intention of turning back. When his eyes landed on Yuna — there was no apology in them. Rion — his voice filling the hall with quiet menace: "The old reign is over. Joseon needs a stronger hand."
Six guards loyal to her — eastern entrance only. Nearest exit — the door behind the throne. Seconds. Rion — with a simple gesture: "Bring her."
They moved. And Yuna moved too — in the opposite direction. When the first guard grabbed her arm — she turned her body fast and used his weight against him. He fell. The second approached from the left — she ducked and drove her elbow into his chest. The third was larger. He grabbed both shoulders with hands like iron.
Rion — cold: "Don't hurt her." Yuna went limp. One second. She tore free — and as she ran, the golden crown slipped from her hair and clattered to the floor.
She stopped. One breath. Then she turned back, snatched it from the ground, and kept running. It was the only thing left of who she was.
Rion: "Don't let her leave."
[ The Palace Forest ]
She slowed inside the forest. She remembered — deep in this forest, a small waterfall. She moved toward it. She found it. Water falling into a pool below, wrapped in thin mist. The stones at the edge wet and covered in moss. New torches appeared from the other direction. They know this forest too.
She stood at the edge of the pool. Nowhere left to run. Then she felt it. A presence without a body. A weight without a source. She turned. No one. She turned back toward the water — And her foot found the moss.
The cold water swallowed her. Silence. Then she saw them. Two whales made of light — circling each other in the water around her. Drawing a ring of golden red on the surface. Saffron.
And at the bottom of the pool — something opened. The water itself became a mirror reflecting somewhere else entirely. Her senses could not take any more. Her body felt heavy. She closed her eyes and let the darkness take her. She lost consciousness.
[ Marrakech — A Water Basin in a Quiet Square — Dawn ]
She opened her eyes slowly. But she did not find the palace walls or the forest trees. She was floating on the surface of a marble basin surrounded by strange carvings. The water was cold and still, unlike the waterfall. It was still shimmering with the remains of a golden light, as if the whales had just vanished into the depths.
She pulled herself out with difficulty. She stood there, dripping wet. Marrakech was waking slowly. And she — a Joseon princess with no kingdom, in a city whose name she didn't know, with a torn dress and a crown that refused to leave her head — sat at the edge of this strange dream.
Suddenly, the silence was broken. The sound of rhythmic footsteps approaching from the nearby alley. The sound of heavy boots hitting the gravel, getting closer... and closer. Someone was coming in this early hour.
She froze. Her heart pounded violently like a trapped bird. She waited. Because she did not know what else to do.
[ End of Chapter One ]