Once Upon A Time in Joseon

15. The Night Continues

He felt it. His last grip on control, slipping away with the time stopper, clattering into the abyss. The foreign men dragged him further, the darkness closing in, and the world—the world he had tried so hard to manipulate—finally consumed him.

He wished the revenge was over. He begged nature for forgiveness. Was it too late?

Nobody knew but me

He was so good at preparing for the event but he was so bad at love. He had no idea how to handle both. Did he not see his father all these years with the queen? Maybe it was so simple for him because he fell for a princess. Maybe the whole problem is that he chose the wrong girl to give his heart to.

His thoughts spiraled. This event wasn't just another royal affair. It was everything. He had stopped time countless nights to ensure every single detail was flawless—every flower in its place, every servant perfectly trained, every moment accounted for. He had obsessed over every possible outcome, making sure the palace would shine brighter than ever, that no fault could be found, ensuring that nothing had been overlooked.

How could he let himself forget it?

His mind reeled with horror. With terror he has never felt before. His ribs felt like they were made of sharp blades going closer to the heart with each breath he took. The Ming could not find the Crown Prince missing, not now, not today. He couldn't afford for anything to go wrong. They would see his absence as a sign of weakness. A tremor of fear gripped him—they would doubt. And what then? His stomach twisted as he struggled to catch his breath. Something worse lingered on the edges of his thoughts, a dark, looming shadow he couldn't yet bring himself to face.

What if he would not be able to attend the event?

He has to take action now but his head grew heavy, a strange dizziness clouding his thoughts. Maybe his confusion and panic had gotten all his head. maybe the exhaustion had at last taken him in. the more the crown prince surfer the more he found out how each book, each lesson, each teaching, how everything was so useless. How much he doesn't know. Even after studying so much all his life. Where to learn these things, where to learn to control your emotions? Where to learn to make decisions? Where to learn to love right?

The air felt thick, the moonlight dimming, a thin veil of fog creeping along the ground, curling around his legs like cold fingers.

What is this? His breath quickened as fear surged through him, his limbs growing weaker with every passing second. He stumbled, grasping for the bars of the cell, his vision blurring. Is this a breakdown? Is this death? Is this his end? He wanted to save the kingdom one last time. He wanted to do something good before dying. He had to answer to someone. He cant die yet.

He heard people coming for help.

Footsteps. Muffled, but growing closer.

Has the king found out he was here? It was a relief even after all this.

The door creaked open.

The Prince's heart slammed against his chest as dark, shadowy figures moved swiftly into the cell. They were like wraiths, gliding soundlessly toward him. He blinked, his mind struggling to process what was happening, but it was no use. He who was perfect for any fights was going numb. This was the only thing he could have controlled easily. But did it all had to happen today? Of all the days it could have happened they chose the worst of times.

Right. Time. As if this was not enough. As if the revenge was not over yet. His body was failing him, his muscles weak from the fog that had now filled the room or was it just by the exhaustion of thinking so much, is there really fog in the room or was his eyes just imagining it to make excuses for his weakness, who knows?

For a moment he tried to look at the figure closest to him and wondered if he saw Master Jang in front of his eyes. Was he really dying? Did Master Jang come to take him? It would be nice if he was there for him. But then before he could complete his chain of thoughts, strong hands grabbed him. It was not his mind, there were real people, real fog. He struggled—instinctively—thrashing, pushing against them. But they were too strong. And he felt weak after each movement, as if the energy in him was just about to finish. They pulled him from the shadows, away from the girl, dragging him toward the door. His mind screamed in protest, but his body could not keep up. The coldness of their touch sent chills through his veins, and that's when he realized—These men... they're not from his kingdom, they were not his citizens.

The realization was too much to process, he wondered how much of these shocks he could handle in one night. His thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm. Foreign men, silent and swift, from where and how? In the palace? What about the guards? What about the girl? What about the event tomorrow? The Event. The Ming Delegation. They were Ming Soldiers. They had him in their grip. He tried to fight them off, but his strength was failing. His head spun, the fog clouding his vision, his sense of time slipping further and further away. Time.

He reached for the one thing that mattered, the only thing he could use to stop all this, he needed time now. This was too much to process. He needed it—the time stopper. His fingers brushed against it, desperate to regain control, to fix what he had broken. But as he reached for it, as his trembling hand closed around its familiar shape, it slipped from his grasp.

The only thing he should have saved, fell. The small device clattered to the stone floor, and in that moment, everything fell apart.

He felt it. His last grip on control, slipping away with the time stopper, clattering into the abyss. The foreign men dragged him further, the darkness closing in, and the world—the world he had tried so hard to manipulate—finally consumed him.

He wished the revenge was over. He begged nature for forgiveness. Was it too late?

Nobody knew but me
I have known this day was close
I knew the tests of time will start
I knew the consequences of what he chose.