One spring day, I ventured out to the marketplace, concealing my identity for a stroll. With a fan in hand, I observed the lives of my people and took in the sights of this nation I would one day rule.

It was then that I saw you, your hair braided with a daenggi, skirts fluttering as you laughed brightly among other women, holding flowers. That image lingered in my mind so persistently that I found myself returning to the marketplace every single day without fail after finishing my duties at the palace.

Beneath the cherry blossoms, on deserted dirt paths, on a swing by the reservoir, and by the stream—I watched you.

Why does my heart race every time I see you? It must be love. Yes, it is love. I have fallen utterly for you.

If my Royal Father knew that the Crown Prince of this nation was fumbling over a single woman, how would he look at me? He would likely scold me with a look of pathetic disappointment, saying I have lost myself to the pursuit of women.

Whatever the case, what matters is my heart for you. When will I be able to tell you?

That I am in love with you.