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Once upon a time, on an island far across the sea, there was a small village, a flourishing kingdom, where the inhabitants lived happily and in peace. In this place ruled a good man and his wife, whom the subjects loved and respected, and they treated everyone with grace and kindness. Every problem was resolved promptly, and there wasn’t even a hint of violence or oppression.
One day, the queen gave birth to a beautiful boy, though at a great cost. Christopher was the sweetest, most gentle child on the whole island, of boundless beauty, polite with the servants and obedient to his father. Unfortunately, he grew up without his mother, who passed away on the day of his birth.
When he turned 16, it was time for him to debut in the kingdom, to be introduced to his subjects who loved his parents dearly but had never seen or met him. On his birthday, with his heart in his throat and the advice of the counselor’s son—Seungmin, his friend—he began to wander through the village adjacent to the palace. Needless to say, the people only needed one look to fall in love with the prince, who was kind even to the roughest of his subjects.
Walking and walking, Christopher stopped at a small, run-down shop, but from its windows came a sublime aroma, and he had been wandering all morning. Enticed by the delicious smell and undeterred by the modest appearance of the shop, Christopher stopped to eat. A boy around his own age served him, his bright eyes not concealing the proud look he wore without shame, even though he was covered in flour from head to toe.
“What would Your Majesty like?” the boy asked, maintaining his composure, even as a royal and his entire entourage had just entered his family’s shop.
Christopher smiled, pleased. “I’m sure you already know my name, but for you, right now, I am Chan, not your prince,” Chris said, carefully watching the boy’s reaction.
“Minho,” he replied, wiping his hand on his apron and extending it toward the prince.
Christopher chuckled, shaking the hand offered to him. “Minho, the smell of your bread led me here. Bring me your finest dish.”
Minho nodded, carrying out what appeared to be anything but an order.
Returning to the palace, the prince did not utter a word. His friends waited eagerly for his stories and to hear his thoughts, as this was the first time Chan had ventured outside his castle, but silence accompanied his return, broken only by dreamy sighs. That boy—Minho—had won him over.
As soon as he arrived, he was welcomed by the warm embrace of his nursemaid, who, seeing him so shaken, turned to his personal guard. “Changbin, what has happened to our little prince? Does the village not suit him? Did someone upset him?”
Changbin shook his head, smiling at the plump woman. “Oh, mother, it’s not what you think. Chan’s distraction isn’t because of the village, but because of its inhabitants… one in particular,” he replied, snickering at the betrayed look on his friend’s face.
The woman looked at Chan mischievously. Now it was clear. How had she not recognized the unmistakable signs of first love? She took Chan’s hand and led him to his rooms to prepare him for dinner. How her little prince had grown! Both of her darlings were becoming young men; only a short while ago, they were playing in the palace gardens, safe from everything and everyone, and now one was a knight, and the other was in love…
That evening, the prince was summoned by his father, the king. “Christopher, it is time for a queen to once again stand by my side. I would like you to meet my future wife.” The king introduced a woman as enchanting as the night itself, with slender hands and curly, raven-black hair, her eyes dark as the deepest abyss and so expressionless compared to the eyes that had captured Chan’s attention in the village that morning.
The prince, as polite as ever, did not allow his surprise to catch him off guard and bowed before the woman, introducing himself. “Good evening, mother, I am Christopher, the king’s first son and rightful heir to this happy kingdom.”
The woman smirked, sizing him up with a stern look. “Of course, handsome prince. Your father’s new marriage won’t change a thing.”
However, many things did change.
After some time, news spread that the king was unwell and bedridden. The prince, though worried about his father, didn’t miss a single day of visiting the quaint, shabby shop in the village center to see the handsome waiter. That was, until the queen sent him away from the kingdom shortly before his eighteenth birthday.
Chan arrived in front of the small door of the modest shop, took a deep breath, and entered. It was time to confess his feelings. He was nearly eighteen, soon to be crowned king, and no one would dare question if his consort was a man instead of a woman.
At his arrival, Minho smiled, his heart stirring at the sight of the mysterious prince who had captured his heart and made him forget the social differences between them. Bowing respectfully, he led Chan to his usual table, but today, Chan shook his head, gesturing toward the door, inviting Minho to step outside with him. Minho didn’t hesitate. He removed his apron and let himself be led by his prince through the village streets. Chan’s blond hair was hidden under a heavy green cloak, the color of the deep forest, and his face was hidden from everyone’s eyes but Minho’s.
They ran together, finally alone, free from the prince’s ever-present guard. They ran for what felt like an eternity until they reached the enchanted Eastern Forest on the edge of the village. Tales of its wonders had reached Chan, who had dreamed of visiting it many times, but his father, fearing for his safety, had never allowed him. Now, hand in hand with his beloved, he was heading to the place of his dreams.
With hearts pounding and breaths heavy, they reached a radiant clearing bursting with flowers of every color. The sight made the prince laugh with delight. He began singing and gathering flowers, weaving them into garlands. Minho sat back, watching him, mesmerized. Chan was the sweetest, most carefree being he had ever seen, and simply looking at him filled Minho’s heart with overwhelming joy. A warmth spread through him, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in far too long. Minho took out a wooden flute from his patched shirt pocket and began playing a ballad well-known in the village, a song of journeys, battles, encounters, and endless love. As Chan heard the melody, he began dancing, carried away by the sweet notes of a story that didn’t seem so distant after all. They sang and danced, unaware of the time passing, until Chan noticed the shadow of night creeping in and, worried, began to run back toward the palace.
Minho, faster than him, caught up, grabbing his arm and turning him to face him. They were so close; Chan could feel the warmth of Minho’s breath on his cheeks, his dark eyes filled with both mystery and safety. “My dear songbird, don’t fly away. Today has been the happiest of my life. My love for you first bloomed timidly like a snowdrop in early spring, and over the years, it has grown, filling my heart to overflowing.” Minho released Chan’s arm, allowing him the freedom to pull away if he wished. “Don’t leave so quickly. I know my words are bold, but I can’t help proclaiming my love for you.”
Chan stepped closer, gently caressing Minho’s weary face. “Minho…”
“But if you don’t love me, if you don’t feel the same,” Minho said, lowering his gaze. “Then go. Fly free, and I won’t follow. I promise you’ll never see me again.”
At those words, the prince threw himself into the baker’s arms, tears streaming down his face, unable to contain the joy that overwhelmed him. “Minho, my love, I couldn’t live a day without your eyes or your enchanting smile. Your words fill me with pride, and my heart sings when I hear your voice. I belong to you now. Over the years, I’ve come to love you more and more,” Chan confessed. “Now, I must go—it’s late, and I don’t want to be discovered. In a few days, I’ll turn eighteen and be crowned king. I promise that on that day, you will leave your old life and sit by my side, as my consort, my equal.”
Minho took Chan’s face in his hands and kissed him. It was a gentle, shy kiss, a promise whispered on trembling lips. Chan blushed deeply, hurrying away only at the insistence of the bells ringing out the midnight hour. At the forest's edge, he turned back. “Promise me you’ll wait for me!”
Chan’s heart was racing wildly as if it would burst from his chest. Minho nodded, and Chan resumed running back to the palace, eager to share everything with his closest friends. Changbin and Jisung would surely tease him, while Seungmin would remind him of his duties and fate. But Chan had made his choice—Minho was the only one he wanted by his side.
Reaching the palace gates, Chan was met not by a guard but by his stepmother, who seized his arm with a malicious grin. She dragged him forcibly outside the palace walls and threw him into a carriage, climbing in after him. The journey felt endless to Chan, who wondered what she wanted.
They stopped near the entrance of a dark cave, where the wicked woman pushed her stepson inside. She soon exited alone, a sinister smile on her face as she returned to the castle, pleased her plan was nearing completion—the kingdom would soon be hers.
When the news of the prince’s disappearance spread, sorrow swept over the land. Everyone mourned his loss, as did the ailing king, who, though growing weaker by the day, found solace in the hope of reuniting with his son and wife in the afterlife.
Minho, upon hearing of his beloved’s fate, refused to believe he was dead. He set out on a journey to find him, determined to honor Chan’s promise of a future together. With unshakable resolve, he ventured west, to the forest of mystery and dread, ready to face any monster rather than live without Chan.
As he approached the forest, a small green light appeared before him, settling on a branch. As it dimmed, Minho could make out a tiny human figure, with long golden hair and stars painted on its cheeks.
“What are you?” Minho asked, reaching out to touch the strange creature.
“Watch it! Keep that finger away if you don’t want me to bite it off!” snapped the little creature. “I’m a guardian of this forest, and I’m here to judge your intentions. If they’re pure, I’ll accompany you. Nothing will harm you with me by your side.”
Minho glanced at Felix, deciding then and there to trust him. “I’m looking for Chan, the prince who disappeared from the nearby kingdom a few days ago.”
Felix raised an eyebrow. “Disappeared? Not dead?”
“He’s not dead!”
Felix smiled, flying to Minho’s shoulder. “I know what happened to your prince. An evil witch took him to the cave of the dragon Atanvar. The dragon accepted her offering in exchange for a wish, carrying Chan far from here. Your prince lies atop Atanvar’s mountain, frozen under a spell that only the distilled crystal flower can break. You must shatter the flower and sprinkle its powder on your beloved, but to find the mystical flower, you’ll face challenging trials. It reveals itself only to a prince with a pure heart, but you, Prince Minyoung, should have no problem with that, right?”
Minho’s eyes widened. This tiny creature knew his true identity, hidden for years. The light had somehow known he was once the crown prince of a kingdom long destroyed—by the same witch who had taken Chan.
“But how—” Minho was cut off by Felix, urging him forward. Having no other choice, Minho trusted his new friend and stepped into the darkness.
Hours passed as they walked in silence, the dark closing in. Minho finally spoke. “Felix, maybe we should rest and continue by daylight.”
Felix looked at him with fiery eyes. “Just a little further, and we’ll be there.”
Finally, they arrived at a clearing, an enormous tree at its center. Felix nodded. “Climb that tree, and we’ll be safe and sound for the night.”
Minho climbed up, while Felix cast protective spells around the tree. He took his place among the branches of the large oak and made himself comfortable. Rummaging through his travel bag, Minho pulled out a chunk of bread, an apple, and some water, and, offering part of his meager meal to Felix, he began to eat with gusto. All the walking had given him an appetite and a great fatigue as well, so once he finished eating, he collapsed into a deep sleep. Under Felix's watchful eye, he didn’t wake up until the following morning.
“Good morning, my brave prince, ready for the adventure?”
“Good morning to you too, my little friend,” Minho replies, stuffing the blanket into his worn-out sack with quick, practiced motions. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Minho? I’m not a prince anymore. I’ve been telling you this for years.”
Felix chuckles, a bright, mischievous sound. “Five more days, my prince.”
Five years. Five years searching for that damned flower to save his Chan. The weight of those years presses on him, but the flicker of hope remains. “Why did we come to the valley of Iffish?”
“We need to reach the center of the valley and find the diamond clearing,” Felix explains, settling as usual on Minho’s shoulder, his tiny wings beating the air with the sound of a delicate breeze. “My queen revealed this secret to me.”
“Your queen... Hyunjin?”
“Exactly,” the little sprite nods, his expression serious for once. “She’s finally realized that your feelings are real, and our journey is much more important than anyone believes. Even Hyunjin wants to take care of the witch once and for all.”
Minho feels a sense of urgency. Hyunjin’s involvement means something big is coming. This isn’t just another step in their quest—it’s the turning point. “Tell me what we need to do.”
“We need to reach the clearing and choose three diamonds,” Felix explains. “But to get there, we must cross the suspended bridge. It’s the territory of the gebbeth—creatures who are angry, violent, and always unhappy. They guard the way, and they won’t let us pass without a fight.”
Minho’s stomach tightens at the mention of the gebbeth . He’s heard stories about these monsters—humanoid beasts with hollow, empty eyes and claws that tear through flesh like a blade through paper. He shudders but presses on, his steps sure and deliberate, driven by the boundless love he feels for Chan. I can’t fail him now.
After what feels like an eternity of walking, the two companions arrive at the bridge: a rickety structure made of beams of wood rotted by time and humidity, spanning a deep ravine that disappears into the shadows. Minho stands at the edge, peering into the abyss, unable to see the bottom. His heart races, a knot tightening in his chest.
He takes a deep breath and steps forward, forcing himself to ignore the fear rising within him. With each creaking step, the bridge seems to sway, as if it could break at any moment. The wind whips around him, and the sound of the ravine below makes his blood run cold. He clenches his fists, eyes fixed ahead, his breath shallow. Soon, his legs begin to shake, and with a grimace, he squeezes his eyes shut, the darkness more comforting than the fear of falling.
Suddenly, the bridge is violently shaken by a gust of wind rising from the bottom of the ravine. The sound of roaring wind fills the air, and Minho’s stomach drops as he fights to stay upright. He grips the sides of the bridge with white-knuckled hands. If he loses his grip now, he will fall—there’s no coming back.
The noise dies down, but it is quickly replaced by something far worse: a guttural, animalistic roar, like the sound of a bear in agony. Minho’s heart skips a beat as the noise grows louder, and his eyes fly open to see a terrifying creature emerging from the shadows of the ravine.
The gebbeth stands tall, its body humanoid but twisted, scarred beyond recognition. Its face is disfigured, the skin shredded by old, jagged scars that run from bottom to top, from left to right.
Where its eyes should be, there are only two dark, empty sockets. The creature is grotesque, its mouth sewn shut with thick wire. It lets out a low groan of fury, trying to scream but unable to make a sound.
Minho freezes, his blood turning to ice. He can’t move. He can’t breathe. The gebbeth’s hollow eyes seem to pierce through him, and it lurches forward, the ground shaking with each heavy step.
Felix’s voice breaks through the terror, a whisper close to Minho’s ear. “Don’t make a sound. The gebbeth are blind. We can use that to our advantage. Grab the rope to your right and climb over it. Stay hanging, and you’ll avoid them. We’ll make it to the other side.”
Minho’s gaze flickers to the rope Felix is pointing to. His fingers tremble, his heart pounding in his chest. Can he really do this? The bridge is high, the wind is fierce, and the gebbeth is getting closer, its ragged breath filling the air.
Minho, you can do anything you set your mind to. You’re the best.
Chan’s voice echoes in his mind, as if the prince is right there beside him. Minho closes his eyes for a second, focusing on the memory of that voice, the warmth it always brought him. He sighs, and with a final burst of courage, he grabs the rope and begins to climb over it, his legs swinging beneath him, dangling over the ravine.
A soft laugh resonates in his memory. I told you, you’re the best. Now open your eyes, Minho. Move and reach the other side of the bridge.
Minho mutters under his breath, “Easy for you to say, who knows where you’re sleeping…”
“Quiet,” Felix scolds him, his wings flapping in irritation.
Minho shoots him a glare but says nothing, his heart racing as he inches forward, his body trembling with fear. His hand grips the rope tightly, and he passes the monstrous gebbeth , trying not to make a sound. Just keep going. Just keep moving.
His feet barely touch the wood of the bridge, but when he finally reaches the other side, his relief is short-lived. As he tries to step onto solid ground, his foot lands on a loose stone, and the rock tumbles down the ravine with a loud crash.
Before Minho can react, the second gebbeth grabs his foot, pulling him back toward the abyss. The pain shoots through him as the creature’s claws dig into his flesh, and he fights to free himself, his mind screaming for help.
I can’t die here. Not like this. I can’t leave Chan alone. I can’t…
“I will find you, even in our next life. And in the one after that.”
Felix whistles, a shrill sound that cuts through the tension. The noise seems to pierce the air, and Minho looks up, his heart skipping a beat as he hears the sound of wings beating against the wind.
“Jeongin! We’re here!” Felix calls out, waving frantically.
A massive eagle dives toward them, its wings slicing through the air like a storm. It swoops down, its sharp beak aimed at the second gebbeth . The creature screeches in pain as the eagle strikes, and with a powerful push, it sends the gebbeth plummeting into the ravine below. Minho hears the dull thud of its fall, and with adrenaline pumping through his veins, he scrambles up the side of the cliff, pulling himself to safety.
His breath comes in ragged gasps, but he’s alive. He made it. The danger is over—for now. He looks to Felix, who gives him a sly grin.
“Don’t think this is over yet,” Felix says, wings fluttering. “We’ve still got a long way to go.”
After hours of marching, with Minho stumbling under the sun while Felix is lying on his shoulder and Jeongin flies through the clear sky, the prince stops and throws himself to the ground. "Can't we ask the eagle to take us to our destination?"
Felix turns his face toward Minho and pinches his cheek. "Jeongin is not a mode of transportation."
"Jeongin is not a mode of transportation," Minho mimics.
A laugh rises from the valley they are crossing.
"Do you hear it too?" Minho asks the sprite.
"What?"
"A laugh... it's Chan's voice..."
Felix smiles and lies back down, getting comfortable on Minho's shoulder. "It's good that you hear it. It means he's alive and waiting for you."
Chan is alive. He's waiting for him. This new awareness makes Minho speed up towards the goal.
Arriving at the edge of the famous clearing they were looking for is not what Minho expects. The ground in front of him is barren and immense, with no end in sight, and Minho doesn't see the diamonds they were supposed to take. The fog is high, and the prince doesn't want to face another terrifying monster like the gebbeths.
Can he really trust what Felix says? They've been traveling non-stop for almost five years, and he almost died before listening to one of his ideas and the words of a supposed queen, whom Minho had never met. With his head full of thoughts, Minho begins to venture into the fog, and Felix follows him, floating beside him rather than lying on his shoulder.
"Are you sure it's here?"
Felix nods, looking around cautiously. "I'm sure."
Minho keeps one hand on his trusty sword and walks, trying to imagine that afternoon many years ago spent with his Chan, to forget the grim place where he finds himself now.
"There's no danger of meeting another monster, right?" Minho asks worriedly.
Felix sighs. "We're surrounded."
Minho stops suddenly. "What?!"
"Be quiet," Felix scolds him. "They won't attack us; we’re not their prey. They're also searching for the diamonds."
Minho crosses his arms over his chest. "Are we all searching for the same thing in the fog?"
Felix turns toward him, looking angry, and his light turns a reddish hue. "Did you think it would be easy?"
"It hasn't seemed easy so far!" Minho shouts in frustration. "We've been walking for years, and we've almost died multiple times!"
"And whose fault do you think that is, little prince?" Felix asks in a petulant voice. "It's not my fault if you no longer believe you're a prince or if your heart isn't pure; it's not my fault-"
"Felix..."
"Don’t interrupt me!"
Minho points behind him. "We've arrived."
The sight before the two travelers' eyes is extraordinary. Gold, silver, and precious stones cover nearly the entirety of the vast clearing. The fog has cleared, and Minho and Felix are alone in the immense, glittering expanse. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds, lapis lazuli, and amidst all this wonder, at the far end of the plain filled with rare stones, there is a tree whose fruits are the largest diamonds Minho has ever seen. He quickly approaches, dazzled by the brilliance of the gems, but Felix warns him and reminds him of their mission.
"Minho, remember that you only need three diamonds." He pronounces the words carefully, looking Minho straight in the eye.
Right, only three were needed to save his sweet Chan. Maybe taking more would mean saving his kingdom too… NO! It was too late for that, but not for Chan. His enchanting prince, brighter than the eastern sun and with a smile more dazzling than any diamond.
Minho convinces himself and takes only the three diamonds he needs, placing them in his bag. Felix smiles in satisfaction, knowing he chose the right person for this mission, and the two lovers would finally defeat the wicked witch who brought destruction.
Satisfied, Minho allows himself a long rest that night. He dreams of the day he confessed his feelings to Chan, remembering his bright eyes and soft lips. How he misses his lips. Five years is a long time, Minho has grown, the journey has changed him, wrinkles have appeared on his forehead, and a long scar runs down his cheek. I wonder if Chan will still love him with this new appearance.
The next morning, Minho and Felix wake up early and begin their march. "Felix, my good friend, now that we have the diamonds, where can we find the crystal flower?"
The sprite smiles. "Let's head north, toward the petrified forest; we'll need the diamonds you're carrying in your bag," he reminds him. "In the forest, there is an old willow, and under its shade grows the flower. Now you're ready; the flower knows, it will reveal itself."
Driven by a new energy, Minho quickens his pace, and within a few days, the two find themselves in front of the forest. Thick brambles block the entrance, and Felix points to Minho, showing him where to place one of his diamonds to open a gap and allow them to enter.
The two of them march on tirelessly, their footsteps echoing in the quiet of the enchanted forest. Minho’s mind races with thoughts, but his body is driven forward by a singular purpose. He’s not entirely sure Felix knows where they’re heading, but that doesn’t matter. He has one goal in mind: to reach the willow tree and claim the crystal flower that will save his beloved Chan.
"Felix, can you even see where we're going?" Minho mutters, tripping on yet another gnarled root and nearly losing his balance. His voice is tinged with impatience. "You’re not planning on leading me straight into some monster's lair, are you?"
Felix doesn’t answer. Instead, he gives a small, deliberate shake of his glowing head, a tiny flash of light against the darkening woods.
Minho runs a hand through his thick, tangled hair, frustration mounting. It’s been five years. Five long years with Felix doing whatever he likes, never giving a second thought to the danger. Why would today be any different? He sighs deeply, shaking off his doubt.
“Sweet Minho, don’t get upset,” Felix’s voice comes, soft and reassuring, like a gentle breeze through the trees. "Follow my voice; I will guide you.”
Minho’s brow furrows in disbelief. "Chan will guide us."
"What?" Felix’s voice squeaks in confusion, not understanding.
“Chan’s voice," Minho repeats, with a quiet but unwavering certainty. "His voice will lead us.”
Felix huffs, his small, luminous wings fluttering in irritation. “You’re trusting a voice in your head—while we’re in the middle of an enchanted forest?”
Minho doesn’t even break his stride. He’s heard Felix’s skepticism before, but now is not the time for doubt. His focus is sharp, his resolve burning brighter than the glow of Felix’s wings. "I’ve followed you without question for years, Felix. We’ve learned one thing in all this time—my ideas are often… wrong ."
Felix’s light flickers, and for a moment, it turns a shade of pink, the softest blush. "Well," he mutters, somewhat affronted, "you’ve never spoken this much before."
Minho chuckles, a quiet, knowing sound, as if the weight of the years has finally given him the freedom to speak his mind. “People change, Felix. Those near-death experiences have a way of loosening the tongue.”
The forest seems to grow quieter as they walk, and Minho’s heart pounds as he follows the gentle, familiar pull of Chan’s voice in his mind. He’s sure now, more than ever. Chan’s presence is a beacon, a guiding star in the ever-darkening forest.
And then, ahead of them, Minho sees it—a soft, ethereal glow emanating from beneath the massive branches of the willow tree. The air shimmers with energy as they draw closer, and there it is: the crystal flower, radiant and proud, glowing with a celestial light. It’s exactly as he’s imagined it—a thing of beauty and wonder, like a star plucked from the heavens, standing tall beneath the sweeping branches of the ancient willow.
Minho’s heart races. He strides forward quickly, urgency fueling every movement. He’s so close. So close. But as his fingers brush against the petals of the flower, something happens. The brilliance of the flower begins to fade, its once-vibrant colors flickering and dimming, the glow turning into a cold, lifeless shimmer. It freezes, completely, just like his prince.
Minho whirls around, panic rising in his chest. “What’s happening? Why isn’t it working?” He grabs Felix by the shoulders, desperate. “How am I supposed to save Chan now?”
Felix is unbothered, gently patting him on the shoulder, his glowing face calm. “Relax, Minho. The flower isn’t the final answer. It’s not just about touching it. You have to bring it to your true love, the one your heart beats for. If it’s real love, true passion, then the flower will bloom again. It will come to life.”
Minho blinks, his mind racing, but hope flickers within him. He can do this. This is the one thing I know is real. This love. It’s the only thing that’s never been broken, not by the witch, not by time, not by anything.
With renewed determination, Minho carefully picks the flower, cradling it in his hands like the most delicate thing in the world. He wraps it gently in a handkerchief, slipping it into his satchel with a sense of finality. “Alright, we’re ready.”
Felix flutters up to Minho’s shoulder, his tiny hands gripping the prince’s sleeve with a touch of urgency. “Hold on, Prince. If what you share with Chan isn’t true love—if it’s anything less than complete, unwavering devotion—the flower will wither, and so will your heart. The witch will win. She will destroy everything, and your beloved will remain frozen, forever.”
Minho’s chest tightens, but his resolve is unshakable. He looks down at Felix, a determined gleam in his eyes. “The bond between Chan and me? It’s stronger than anything, Felix. It’s always been. It’s not just love. It’s fate.”
A new confidence surges through him, a feeling deeper than anything he’s ever known. He turns toward the path leading out of the forest, the weight of the flower in his bag no longer a burden but a promise. “We will save him. I’ll do whatever it takes to bring him back.”
Felix, who has been silent for a moment, now looks at Minho with something akin to awe. "You really believe that, don’t you?"
Minho nods, his eyes unwavering. “I know it.”
With the crystal flower safely tucked away, Minho begins his march forward, his heart set ablaze with purpose, his spirit unwavering. Chan will wake up. He’ll fight for it. He’ll save his love from the curse of the witch—and nothing, not even the darkest forces of magic, will stop him.
Now, there was only the towering mountain of Atanvar to face. It was an imposing challenge, a treacherous climb, but after everything they had already endured—after the battles fought and the sacrifices made—this felt like a mere footnote. Minho and his tiny companion began the ascent, their steps slow but resolute, every movement full of purpose. The prince’s mind swirled with thoughts—dark, heavy thoughts that hung like shadows in the thick, oppressive air of Chan’s kingdom. The land, once vibrant with life and joy, now seemed soaked in an unnatural gloom. The witch queen was succeeding in destroying this beautiful kingdom just as she had his own…
But no more.
We will stop her.
Together.
Minho’s thoughts became a mantra, repeating over and over in his mind like a prayer. His grip tightened around the hilt of the sword as he walked. His gaze fixed ahead. This time, it won’t end like it did last time.
I am coming for you.
And then, in the depths of his soul, he could hear Chan’s voice, soothing and steady, like the distant echo of a forgotten promise:
“I can feel you, Minho. I know you are on your way. I’m waiting for you.”
Minho’s heart quickened. He could almost feel Chan with him, his presence as vivid as if he were standing beside him. This time, it was different. This time, Minho would be the one to lead. This time, he held the sword—not the weight of memories, not the ghosts of failure. Chan was coming back, and together, they would rid the world of the imposter.
The travelers’ steady climb faltered before a cave, dark and foreboding, its depths unknown. It loomed like an entrance to some forsaken underworld. Without a second thought, they entered. The air grew thick with moisture, every step heavier, every breath colder. The constant drip of water from the jagged rocks above soaked Minho’s hair, while Felix—his tiny companion—fluttered desperately behind him, weighed down by the oppressive humidity. Minho scooped him up gently and placed him on his shoulder, trying to shield him from the wet chill.
They stumbled through the suffocating darkness for what felt like hours. Minho’s senses were on high alert—his skin tingling, every creak and shift of stone causing his heart to race. Then, through the black void, a faint light appeared at the far end of a tunnel.
“The dragon?” Minho whispered, his voice barely audible, as though even speaking might break the fragile illusion of light.
Felix smiled, his wings fluttering softly. “No need to worry. The dragon has been guarding your prince this whole time. Atanvar is one of the oldest friends of the magical folk. A protector, not a threat.”
Minho nodded, though the words barely sank in. Atanvar—a protector. He couldn’t let his guard down. They had come so far, and nothing could stand in their way now.
He crouched, crawling forward through the narrow, claustrophobic tunnel, his hands brushing against the damp, cobwebbed walls. The smell of earth and decay filled his nose, almost suffocating. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of crawling, he emerged into a vast cavern, his head breaking through into a world of iridescent light. The glow of countless crystals filled the space, their facets reflecting every hue of the rainbow in an ever-shifting dance of color. The walls were alive, shimmering with light as the crystals pulsed with their own quiet rhythm.
For a moment, Minho was lost in the beauty of the cavern. It was as if he had stepped into a dream, one that took him far away from the cold, dark reality of the world outside. He could have sworn he was standing in the grand ballroom of his palace, surrounded by guests, their faces radiant with joy. The music was playing, the dancers twirling, the laughter of his family filling the air.
It was his sixteenth birthday, a day that was supposed to be filled with celebration. The guests had come from all corners of his kingdom, a sea of smiles and laughter. His parents were seated on their thrones, their faces glowing with love and pride. Minho smiled, turning toward them, his heart light and carefree. This was the day everything was supposed to be perfect.
Minho.
The voice came again, but this time it was sharp, insistent. It pulled him out of the vision.
Minho.
The warmth of the ballroom, the joy of the day—it all began to fade, and with it, the realization that it was only a memory, a lie. Minho gasped, feeling the sharp sting of something deep inside his chest. His skin prickled as though the warmth of his childhood had been ripped away, leaving him cold and exposed. He reached up to touch his face, his fingers trembling as they brushed against the cool surface of the stone.
No, he thought fiercely, this is not the end. This won’t happen again.
Minho turned his head, the weight of the past pressing against him like a physical force. There was Felix, still perched on his shoulder, a small creature of light and hope in the midst of the darkness. The memories were gone. The witch had taken it all—his family, his kingdom, his childhood dreams. But he would not let her do the same to Chan. He would not lose the one thing he held dear.
Minho strode forward, his eyes locked on the brightest part of the cavern. There, in the shimmering light, lay a figure. A slim, pale shape, resting upon a bed of stone. Minho’s heart skipped a beat. He rushed forward, his hands trembling as he brushed the cool surface of Chan’s body. The prince was beautiful, still as perfect as the day he was taken—his red lips untouched by time, his skin pale and untouched by age.
Minho couldn’t resist. He bent down, pressing his lips to the cold skin of Chan’s forehead, desperate to warm him with his touch. His breath caught in his throat when there was no response.
Please, he begged silently. Please wake up. Don’t let me lose you too.
But Chan remained still. Minho’s heart ached as he ran his hands through the prince’s golden hair, his fingers brushing the soft strands. The warmth was gone. The magic had been drained from the world, leaving only emptiness.
Felix, ever the faithful companion, emerged from the bag, holding the last two diamonds in his tiny hands. Without a word, he placed them on Chan’s chest, then crushed the delicate flower into a fine powder. Felix’s eyes met Minho’s, filled with unwavering trust.
Minho’s hands shook as he took the powder, gently blowing it over Chan’s body. The mist began to swirl, faint at first, but soon it thickened and glowed with an ethereal light. Minho stood frozen, his heart pounding, as the light enveloped the prince. He watched in awe as the cavern around them began to warm, the glow intensifying until it filled every corner of the space. Minho closed his eyes, shielding his face from the brilliance.
When the light finally dimmed, Minho rushed forward, grabbing Chan’s hand, pressing it to his lips. He kissed it desperately, as if his touch could speed up the process.
Chan’s complexion shifted, turning from deathly pale to a soft flush. His chest began to rise and fall, slow at first, but then steadily. His eyes fluttered open, revealing the familiar golden hue. The first thing he saw was Minho’s face, filled with worry, relief, and love. And then, he smiled.
“Your eyes… I missed them,” Chan murmured, his voice a soft whisper in the cavern.
Minho couldn’t find words. He was too overcome with emotion to speak. Instead, he pressed his forehead to Chan’s, his hands cupping the prince’s face. He could feel the warmth returning to Chan’s body, and with it, the hope that had been extinguished in his heart.
“You’re awake. You’re here with me.”
Chan chuckled softly, reaching up to trace a finger over the scar on Minho’s cheek. “You’ve changed.”
Minho smiled, though his eyes were full of unshed tears. “So have you.”
“Still beautiful,” Chan whispered, his voice filled with affection.
Minho blushed deeply, his heart racing. Then, without thinking, he kissed Chan—softly, tenderly, but with a depth of emotion that surpassed all the years they had spent apart. It was a kiss that held all the unspoken promises, all the regrets, and all the love they had yet to express.
Felix, watching the scene from a distance, smiled to himself, but his voice cut through the silence, forcing the moment to end.
“My prince,” Felix called from the back of the cavern.
“Yes?” Minho asked, reluctantly breaking the embrace.
Chan blinked, still dazed. “What is it?”
Minho turned to face Felix, his heart heavy with the weight of the truth. It was time to tell Chan everything.
“We need to hurry. The witch… she’s going to destroy this kingdom, just like she destroyed yours, Minyoung.”
“Minyoung?” Chan looked at him, confused. “Are you a prince?”
Minho shook his head. It wasn't important now. “We need to leave. The witch’s work is just beginning. But we will stop her, together.”
And with that, they began their journey once again, leaving behind the ruins of what had once been their home, and moving forward into an uncertain future. But now, at least, Minho was no longer alone.
The air crackles with dark energy as the wicked witch stands waiting, her fury burning brighter than ever. Seeing the foolish boy and the naive prince approach, her anger explodes. Her feet slam onto the ground with a force that shakes the very foundations of the palace, and she begins throwing objects with reckless abandon, each one crashing against the walls in a frenzy of destruction. Lightning bolts shoot from her fingertips, shredding everything in her path, her wrath an uncontrollable storm. Minho, his eyes steely with determination, draws his sword, his grip firm and unwavering as he steps forward. He levels it at the witch, his stance ready for battle, but she merely sneers, her gaze dripping with disdain as she drops into a deadly fighting position.
Minho is an extraordinary swordsman, and for a brief moment, it seems as though victory might be within his reach. But the witch, with a wicked laugh, calls upon her monstrous griffin—an enormous creature with wings that blot out the sky. It dives at Chan, talons extended, ready to strike down the defenseless prince. Minho spins, his eyes wide with desperation. He runs toward Chan, knowing deep down that he’ll never reach him in time. But just as the griffin descends like a shadow of death, a massive figure steps in between them, blocking the beast’s assault.
“Atanvar!” Felix shouts with urgency, rushing forward to help the dragon who has appeared from the depths of the battle. Atanvar, a behemoth of a creature standing over three meters tall, roars, shaking the very earth beneath their feet. His immense wings stretch out like an impenetrable wall, a terrifying protector. Still, danger lingers in the air, the griffin’s attacks relentless, and the boys are far from safe.
Chan’s gaze darts around, frantic, and his eyes land on a weapon hanging on the wall. His hand seizes a sword, its hilt cold and unfamiliar, but it’s all he has. He charges at the griffin with a newfound ferocity, the steel gleaming in the dim light as he throws himself into battle. But Minho, distracted by the sudden arrival of Atanvar and the dragon’s roar, doesn’t see the lightning bolt that arcs from the witch’s outstretched hand until it’s too late.
The bolt strikes him square in the chest, the shock of it lifting him off his feet. Minho crashes to the ground with a brutal thud, his body spasming, blood staining his tunic. His breath comes in gasps, ragged and shallow, as he reaches out, his fingers trembling toward Chan, his face contorted with pain yet still resolute. “Chan... no... stay back,” he murmurs, even in his agony, his voice a whisper of the protection he still hopes to offer.
Chan’s heart shatters at the sight. He drops to his knees beside Minho’s crumpled form, his hands trembling as he cradles Minho’s head in his lap, pressing it gently to his chest. His tears fall in hot, desperate streams. He strokes Minho’s thick, blood-soaked hair, his voice breaking as he whispers through his sobs.
“Minho, you can’t leave me !” Chan cries, the words jagged with heartbreak. “You promised me! You said we would be together, forever! We were supposed to be happy! Why you? Why you?! Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me alone!” His sobs wrack his body, the pain of seeing his beloved fading, of realizing that the promise he held so dearly was being ripped away.
Minho, with a final burst of strength, manages to smile through the agony, his lips brushing against Chan’s trembling skin in one last, fleeting kiss. “I love you,” he breathes, his voice a soft, fragile thread, before his hand falls limp to the ground. His eyes, once bright with life and love, slowly close for the final time.
The witch’s maniacal laughter erupts, echoing through the chamber like a death knell, her voice seething with triumph. “What did that fool think? Did he honestly believe he could defeat me? No one can! No one! ” she cackles. “He got what he deserved—just like his pitiful kingdom. The same fate, the same ruin. Goodbye, Prince Minyoung.”
Chan, heartbroken and consumed by rage, slowly lays Minho’s lifeless body onto the cold stone floor. His tears continue to fall, but his grief turns to something else, something darker, more powerful. He stands, wiping his face with trembling hands, his gaze never leaving the witch, who watches him with a smug, self-satisfied grin.
“How dare you?” Chan spits, his voice low and deadly. His words are like a blade drawn from deep within. “You’ve destroyed countless kingdoms, wiped out entire lives, shattered dreams and hopes with a wave of your hand. You killed my father, stole the throne that was rightfully mine, and plunged my kingdom into despair. You sent my people into poverty, made them suffer for your own wicked amusement. But most of all... you killed him. ” His voice cracks, but his fury builds, pushing him onward. “You broke my heart. And now, witch, I will break yours . I will shatter it into a thousand pieces, and you will finally regret every ounce of evil you’ve wrought. You will feel the weight of your cruelty, ” he vows, each word sharper than the last.
The witch’s cackling laughter fills the room, cruel and mocking, as sparks of dark magic shoot from her hands, crackling with malice. “What do you think you’re going to do, boy?” she sneers, her eyes glowing with twisted amusement. “The greatest knights in the kingdom couldn’t defeat me. Your precious prince fell at my feet. And now you , weak and foolish, think you can destroy me? You , who have no power of your own? How deliciously deluded you are! What a wild fantasy you cling to!”
But Chan, his heart now blazing with a fire greater than anything he’s ever known, grips Minho’s sword—his beloved’s weapon—firmly in his hand. The weight of it feels different now, a symbol of his love, his pain, his rage. His resolve hardens, his muscles coil with determination as he faces the witch. Without a moment’s hesitation, he launches the sword with all his strength, a flash of steel cutting through the air.
The witch’s eyes widen, but her arrogance remains unshaken. With a fluid, mocking motion, she effortlessly sidesteps, the sword missing her by mere inches. Her laughter rings out again, louder and more taunting than ever. “Is that the best you can do? Really ?” she mocks, her voice dripping with derision. “The prince you so dearly loved couldn’t stand against me, and now you, a mere boy , think your little sword will do what his could not?”
But Chan’s eyes are fixed not on the witch but on the golden pedestal behind her, where something—something ancient and powerful—glimmers faintly. Time seems to slow. With a forceful cry, Chan directs the sword with precision toward the stone pedestal, knowing it is the key. The blade strikes true. The sound of metal against stone echoes through the chamber, a resounding crack splitting the air. The stone begins to fracture, slowly at first, and then with a terrible sound, it shatters into a thousand pieces.
The witch’s mocking expression falters. Her gaze snaps to the pedestal, her face draining of color as she sees the destruction she never anticipated. “No...!” she hisses, her voice trembling with disbelief. “How did you... how could you know?”
Chan stands tall, his breath heavy, his heart pounding in his chest. “You think I was helpless?” he says, his voice steady, though laced with fury. “I spent years learning everything the dragon could teach me. I knew exactly what to strike. Your treasure... your cursed heart of stone.” His eyes narrow, his grip tightening on the hilt of the sword, now a symbol of his vengeance and resolve. “To defeat you, your power had to be destroyed.”
The witch’s mouth twists in horror as her own body begins to crack, her flesh splitting as though it were made of glass. Her screams fill the air, but they’re weak now, fading as she crumbles to dust. The wind picks up, carrying the remnants of her evil far away, scattering them into nothingness.
Chan’s knees buckle, and he falls beside Minho’s lifeless body. Exhausted, his energy drained, he presses a trembling kiss to the cold lips of the man he loved. For a moment, everything is still, and all that exists is the weight of his grief and the sharpness of his loss. But then, as if summoned by the power of his sorrow, something miraculous happens.
A hand—warm, steady—rests gently on his shoulder. Chan’s heart leaps. He spins around, hope blooming like a flower in his chest. And there, standing before him, his eyes full of the same love that had always bound them together, is Minho. Alive. Alive.
Tears spring to Chan’s eyes as he looks at the man who had promised to be with him forever. “Minho,” he whispers, his voice trembling with disbelief. “Minho, you’re—you're here... you’re really here.”
Minho smiles softly, his hands reaching out, pulling Chan into a tender embrace. “I love you, Chan,” he murmurs, his voice weak but filled with warmth. The words that Chan had longed to hear in his darkest moments are now his reality. The promise of their love, unbroken by time or death, is finally fulfilled.
“I love you too,” Chan breathes out, tears streaming down his face as he pulls Minho closer, kissing him with all the passion and longing he’d held inside for so long.
Felix stands back, watching the scene unfold with a satisfied smile. His task is done. The story, once shadowed by darkness, has found its end, and now the world is left with the love that will never fade.
And so, he turns, fading into the distance, his work complete.
Felix heads toward the forest, traveling until he reaches a village where he tells the story of a handsome young man and his fearless lover: it all began in the tavern of a distant town, where a handsome young man served a smiling, sweet boy. It was already known, the two would fall in love…