you never thought you would smile like this again, but here you are. and here he is, by your side.

"How do I look, mom?"

Standing before the mirror, you nervously smooth the delicate sash of the pink hanbok for the hundredth time, careful not to lean down too much and dislocate the floral ornament carefully pinned in your hair. There have been doves fluttering in your stomach the entire afternoon; you don't know if you tied this correctly or if your hair is braided right, and you can't ask any of your nearby neighbours for fear of discovery that your plans are different than theirs tonight. Mother would know exactly what to do. What to say to make you feel at ease. But what you want most is for her to see you all grown up like this. Finally able to properly wear the outfit you coveted for so long, and hold your head high in it too. You think she'd be proud.

You manage a smile as you run your fingertips along the edge of the ornament, a gift from mother on your twelfth birthday. It's almost been a year since her passing, and you still miss her more than anything. But you also know now that the best way to honor her is to be happy, and to carry on her work, her legacy. So far, you've begrudgingly won a few scraps of respect from the male physicians, and it's a start.

"I hope you're doing well up there," you say, letting your gaze drift out the window to the beaming Chuseok moon, hoping the wind might take your words and your love all the way to her.

"Hey. Are you ready?"

You are grateful that the door is closed because the way you snap to attention is frankly embarrassing.

"Yes, just a moment, seja-jeonha!" you say in a nervous half-whisper, half-exclamation as you allow yourself one last glimpse at the mirror. This is going to be fine. You're going to be relaxed and have a good time, even if you are sneaking out of the palace with arguably the second most important person in the country.

Putting on a smile that hopefully looks effortless, you pull open the door and practically gasp out loud at the sight of him.

It's perhaps the first time you've seen the prince out of the traditional royal robes. It's an excellent disguise -- the clothes of a young yangban lord, done in a deep-dyed scarlet that contrasts his usual navy. A cinched belt fastens the coat deftly, juxtaposed against the dragging, silky sleeves beside it, making him seem somehow more elegant in the way he holds himself. Completing the look is the gat that sits atop his head, its wide-brim tilted low so it covers enough of his face that he wouldn't be recognized, at least not to anyone who spared him a passing glance (not that they would know his face to begin with). The gat strap hangs low in front of his chest, the intricate beading betraying just how truly expensive this hat is. He is, in short, unfairly, unfathomably handsome.

You are forever grateful that you chose to dress up; if nothing else, at least you will look suitable standing next to him, at least for a night.

If Yoongi thinks anything of your outfit, he covers it with a slight cough, his cheeks faintly reddened from the cold. "Good. Come on. We have to be quick."

You nod, following him out into the night air.

With swift steps and strategic maneuvering, it doesn't take you long to reach one side of the imposing wall that separates palace from town. There, you find a familiar face waiting for you.

"Good evening," Eunuch Kim says with a bow. He's wearing a different, muted set of green robes and donned a gat as well. "As you instructed, the select guards have been informed to keep quiet, and all else has been taken care of. Let us go."

He likely insisted on coming, as one of the caveats for your illicit excursion. You don't mind, since this isn't the first time he's had to do such a thing, always so worried about his rebellious, stubborn charge. You watch as he lets Yoongi go past first, then gestures for you.

"You look lovely tonight, uinyeo-nim," Eunuch Kim says, and you share a small, furtive smile that feels like he's cheering you on. Then you step past the official gates, feeling so acutely the pattering of your pulse because this is truly happening.

For the first handful of minutes, you remain both terrified and anticipatory that you'll be snatched back by the royal guard and accused of kidnapping the prince or something equally ridiculous as being on an actual outing with him. Beside you, Yoongi doesn't seem to have these worries as he walks by your side (though still a respectful, proper distance apart), letting his arms slightly swing while he kicks up dust with his slippers.

Just as you're wondering if you're being an awful companion and not making conversation, he says, "haven't been outside the palace in ages."

"Me too. It's... a little strange, having all this freedom to roam and do what I want. Even if it's just for a night."

"I'll say." Yoongi makes an exasperated noise. "There are too many rules in that place. Can't do anything without being watched." He gives a minor tilt of his head towards your chaperone, though it's more a tease rather than actually spiteful. Eunuch Kim, for his own sake, pretends not to see or hear the jab.

You smile. "It's for your safety, seja-jeonha."

"So they say. But they'll regret it when I die of boredom first."

He rolls his eyes and you laugh, and the palpitations in your stomach ease just like that.

As you draw ever closer to the town, the harmony of string and wind instruments crescendo and build with the jubilant chatter of the townspeople. It's getting to you in the best of ways; you're becoming so elated at the prospect of the festivities that you start to speed up, soon practically rushing towards the town square at a pace that forces Yoongi and Eunuch Kim to run to follow.

"...Wow!"

At the base of the square, your entire face brightens with the wondrous sight unfolding before you. There are people everywhere. Some down celebratory alcohol, others munch on sweet treats, and more still singing along to the traditional folk tunes with robust vibrato, regardless of whether they're on key or not. You can't find a single frown amidst all this mirth, and that's just the way you like it. It's overwhelming: the sights, the sounds, and the mouthwatering smell of something delicious and fried.

Yoongi eventually jogs up to you, forced to inhale a few quick breaths to refill his lungs. "Are you that hungry?" He asks, the corner of his lips curling up.

Oh god, you just made the prince run.

"No...! Not at all! I'm deeply sorry, seja-jeonha. I got too excited, didn't I?"

"Not at all. Shall we get something to eat first then?"

You avert your eyes, though you really haven't had dinner tonight. "No, please. Let us do what you would like."

Yoongi grins as if it is of no consequence. "What I want? Well, then, I want to go this way."

As is his habit, he begins to walk in the direction he chooses without notice, though this time he has to weave through the people that crowd the area. His disguise is working well; he is largely ignored as he passes, leading your little group all the way to an open alleyway where stalls line each side, lit up with lamps and vividly colored banners.

A twinge of sadness squeezes your heart as you look at the spread. You faintly remember a decade ago that there used to be a full row of assorted delicacies and sweets for purchase; now it's mostly merchants with tables of books and hairpins, food becoming too scarce for most to sell with the grain shortage, even if they need the funds. Still, everyone seems to be doing their best with what they've got.

Sudden shouts ring out right beside you, nearly blowing your ears out with how loud they are.

"Jeon! Freshly fried shrimp and fish jeon for sale!"

"Hot, hot, hot nokdujeon over here!"

"Gaah!" you exclaim, eyes wide. You wouldn't be surprised if the monks up the mountain heard about this jeon! When you turn to see who the hell is making all this commotion, you're met with the scowling faces of two men, glaring furiously at each other in-between tending to their sizzling pans in adjacent stalls. The bearded one looks about seconds away from giving the other younger man a good smack with the fishing rod leaning on the wall behind him.

Said younger man gives a snicker. "No wonder my sales are beating yours. Why would anyone want your shrimp when they could have my delicious mung beans?"

"Say that again, if you dare."

"Why would anyone want your gross shrimp when—"

"Yah, you can take your beans and shove them right up your nasty sokgot—"

"Excuse me," Yoongi cuts in between them with a smirk. "I'll take two orders of each. Preferably not ones shoved anywhere." He drops coins on both counters, more than enough to cover the food.

"Ahem." They levy two very similar glares at each other before beginning to package the orders for consumption, switching to polite honorifics in the process. "Yes, sir!"

"Right away, sir!"

They work deftly, obviously very practiced in the art. Neither of them drop so much as a crumb, even though they seem to be racing.

"My lord, here is your order," Fish Jeon says, only to be roughly shoved aside by Mung Bean in a rush to hand over the goods first.

"Please enjoy, sir!"

Yoongi takes the round and crispy nokdujeon, all wrapped in parchment paper. His amused chuckling makes you feel a little warmer, a bit fonder than you should. Especially when he then promptly passes the package to you.

"Seja--" You cut yourself off before you make the mistake. "Um. My lord, this is for me?" You ask, even though you're practically drooling at the scent.

"Did I give it to someone else? Eat."

He turns, hands off one of the assorted jeon plates to Eunuch Kim behind him, who accepts gratefully with a bow.

You, and your stomach, don't need to be told twice. After blowing on the golden batter, you take a generous bite, accidentally smearing a bit of it on your cheek in the process but god, it tastes incredible. Mung Bean may be loud, but he clearly doesn't tell lies. You have to hold yourself back from inhaling the pancake whole, instead savoring each nibble on your tongue.

"Come on. Keep going before the crowd grows," Yoongi says, urging you forward with a jerk of his chin before biting into his own pancake. You don't think you've ever seen him smile this much before, and it's with slight regret that you tear your eyes away to look where you're going.

From behind you as you start to walk, you hear, "Jungkook, you brat, shouldn't you be more respectful to your elders?!"

"Whatever, hyungnim. Nokdujeon! Better-than-his-fish nokdujeon!"

There is a very distinctive thwap as you move into the merchant area.

The first booth you come to belongs to a woman that you recognize, selling the latest romance novel by a rising author, Taehyun. She recognizes you too, waving you over with enthusiasm. "Oh, hello! We just received this last week. A tale of forbidden love between a yangban lady and a fisherman! Full of tension and..." she lowers her voice conspiratorially, "more than a few kisses!"

"Do people actually read things like this?" Yoongi mutters, staring at the covers.

"Huh? No! Well, hah, I certainly don't!" You hope your face looks plausibly innocent. "But thank you," you turn to say to the woman before hurriedly walking on before she can expose your ruse. The prince doesn't need to know about the precious books you keep in a secret stash in your room. A lady can't only study all day, right?

(You make a mental note to come back to town and pick up a copy later.)

Down the row you go, reluctantly finishing off the pancake on the way. Yoongi hands you the entire second plate of jeon not long after. "I don't want it," he says, watching you brighten at the prospect of more food. He does end up stealing a piece of shrimp from within your grasp later, throwing it casually into his mouth before you can even react.

The next display to really catch your attention is one laden with delicately handcrafted ornaments, pins, bracelets, and perfumes. "Wow!" You gush, leaning over the table as you try to calculate how much money you brought with you because you want it all, even though you rarely have the occasion to dress up. Still, you want at least something as a keepsake, to hold your memories of this precious day. Yoongi stops and waits for you; you forget it should be the other way around.

"Oh my, Eun-a-ssi? Is that you?"

What? You look up, breath hitched.

"Oh, my apologies." The woman behind the booth is elderly, her hair grey, eyes wrinkling warmly as she smiles. "My mistake. My eyesight isn't what it was. You... look a lot like a woman I know. I haven't seen her in a long time now."

"Eun-a... Eun-a was my mother," you murmur. "She passed away last year."

The woman's eyes widen as she clutches her hands to her chest. "She did? Oh... Oh no... I'm so sorry, child. Then you must be—" She thinks for a moment, then says your name. You nod, and a small smile slips back on her lips, though now tinged with sadness. You know the feeling. "My name is Hong Sook-ja. I used to live right here in town with Eun-a-ssi, until all those years ago when she moved into the palace and I moved to the countryside. Your mother used to bring you into town for Chuseok and we got to know each other then. These days, I just come back every once in a while to see my granddaughter and great-grandson, so I must have missed the news."

"It's alright, Sook-ja-ssi. Mom lived well," you say, ignoring the twinge in your chest. Any glimpse into mother's life before she had you fills you with a certain homesickness, alongside the joy. "She was happy. And I'm sure she'd be happy to know that you are living well too."

"Good. Good. She deserved happiness." Sook-ja sighs, letting the information sink in. Only after one last kind smile does she finally seem to notice Yoongi standing beside you, trying his best not to intrude. "Now, is this handsome lord your companion? Perhaps your betrothed?"

"N-No!" You immediately cry, not wanting Yoongi to misunderstand, to think that his rank could be dragged so low as to match yours. Sook-ja should know that these class lines, even between yangban and cheonmin, are not so easily crossed. But the mischief in her gaze seems to suggest she doesn't care much about that. "No, we're just out. Together."

"Yes. Out. Together," Yoongi echoes, just as the door behind Sook-ja starts to open with a noisy creak.

A young woman dressed in a pretty hanbok steps out of the house with a smile. "Grandma, are you interrogating the customers again... Oh, hey! Kim-nim!"

All three of you turn your heads to look at Eunuch Kim, who couldn't look more surprised at the woman's appearance if Yoongi started growing a tail. He flusters, stepping back as if that could protect him. "Ahh, Chun-ja-ssi...! You're, um, here! And you look, wow—" He almost drops the last piece of jeon altogether. "I was not expecting you to be here— I mean, not that I was thinking of you being elsewhere— Uh, not that I think about you that often—"

"This is my granddaughter," Sook-ja explains, saving the poor man. "Chun-ja. She and her son, Han-jae, are the best parts of my life. She's so clever, she can even read and write, you know!"

Chun-ja flushes under the praise. "My grandmother likes to exaggerate. But it's very nice to meet you both," she says, bowing in greeting as Sook-ja excuses herself, exiting through the same door.

Yoongi is once again smirking. "So, how do you know Kim-nim?"

"Mm, it was about two years ago? I was helping one of the merchants bring grain into the palace. Kim-nim saw me struggling with a particularly heavy pot, and so he helped me carry it. Since then, we chat for a bit every time he's in town on an errand, and exchange the occasional letter! When he remembers to write me back, that is. Though his letters are often so lovely that I don't mind the wait." Chun-ja offers Eunuch Kim a grin that he can't quite return with ease.

Yoongi has to work hard to keep his face relatively straight as he says, "hmm. So that is why he's always disappearing from the palace with those weak excuses? And using all that ink? He always said it was for something important."

"Seja— My lord! Please!" Spare me, Eunuch Kim's wilted expression pleads. You have to hide your amusement behind a hand, lest you burst out with inappropriate laughter.

Once again, Sook-ja comes to the rescue as she shuffles out of the house, holding two familiar objects that make your eyes light up. "You're both in luck. I knew we had a few extra this year, even after that rascal great-grandson of mine ruined a few with his roughhousing. He'd still be causing trouble if he weren't off with his friends right now." Sook-ja sighs. "I wish my grandson were still around to scold him. But anyway, I'd be happy if you'd take them!"

"Wish lanterns!" You exclaim, taking the lightly orange cloth contraption with glee. "Oh, I haven't seen these up close in years." The palace celebrations don't usually include them, leaving you to try and catch the sight of the tiny, almost imperceptible lights floating into the sky from so far away. You've always loved the thought of the lamps surging towards that boundless sky, endlessly drifting, free to follow the wind.

"Do you know how to start it?" Chun-ja asks. You shake your head. "Let me show you."

As Chun-ja explains the mechanisms behind the lantern to you, Yoongi reaches for his coin pouch. "We must give you something in exchange." Yoongi produces several mun coins that are at least five times the lanterns' actual worth, and tries to give them to her.

Sook-ja pushes his hand away. "No, no, it's a present!"

"I insist." Yoongi tries again, only to be rejected, again. He wonders if she would be so obstinate if she knew who he really was. (Probably yes.) "Alright... What if I take another item from the table to make it a fair trade?"

"Stubborn, aren't you?" Sook-ja bursts into laughter, her belly shaking beneath her skirt. "Fine. Take your pick!"

Yoongi barely scans the accessories; he snatches up the bracelet you were looking at before and tucks it into his jeogori with a secret smile. "Thank you."

"Thank you," Sook-ja says warmly, before her smile dips down conspiratorially. "It'll look good on her. Anyway, have fun! Enjoy the night."

"I'm sure we will." Yoongi shifts his attention to you. "All done? Then let's keep going."

"Yes, my lord," you say, happily clutching the lanterns. "Thank you so much, Sook-ja-ssi. Chun-ja-ssi."