rewrite the stars
[ S. Mingi ]
╚═════════ part one: the prince
summary: y/n has lived her entire life underground until the crown prince of earth decides she’s his new favorite thing in the galaxy
warning: suggestive themes, virgin reader, slow burn, more will be added
genre: scifi dystopian, romance, smut, slight enemies to lovers, forbidden romance
pairing: alien mingi x human afab reader
word count: 11k
part two
masterlist
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The first thing the city heard every morning was the hum. Not cars. Not birds. Those had disappeared from Solaria Prime a long time ago. The hum came from above. Massive transport ships drifting between levels of the capital. Imperial engines vibrating through steel foundations deep beneath the city until the sound became part of daily life itself. Constant, heavy and inescapable. The underground district never truly slept beneath it. Dim neon signs flickered against rusted pipes. Steam curled from vents in the walls and ceilings. The air smelled like overheated wiring, engine oil, crowded bodies, and fried food from the market three streets over. Somewhere nearby, music rattled through thin apartment walls while old transit tunnels groaned beneath thousands of people moving through them like blood through veins.
And above all of it… Solaria Prime glittered. Even from down here. Through the narrow slits between upper sector platforms, pieces of the imperial city could still be seen. Brightly lit towers disappearing into clouds. Holograms large enough to paint color across the night sky. Glass bridges suspended in the air like they’d been woven from light itself. A different world hanging over theirs. Y/N hated looking at it. She adjusted the hood of her worn jacket as she moved through the overcrowded market corridor, shoulder checking past people trying to sell scraps, machine parts, counterfeit upper sector jewelry, stolen ration cards. Overhead screens flickered between advertisements in alien dialect and heavily accented English.
LOYALTY BUILDS PEACE.
THE EMPIRE PROVIDES.
A silver eyed woman smiled down from the screen before the image shifted to the imperial crest burning gold against black. Y/N looked away immediately, remembering how her grandfather used to like telling the story of how he remembered the day the aliens came. The thought drifted through her head automatically, familiar after years of hearing it repeated at tiny dinner tables and during blackouts and every time someone in the underground got too hopeful. He was eight years old. He said the ships blocked out the sun. That they had been peaceful in the beginning. Until they weren’t. That was 74 years ago. He used to tell the story softly near the end. Like if he spoke too loudly the empire itself might hear him. How humans welcomed them at first. How the aliens arrived speaking of knowledge, trade, medicine, peace between worlds. How they looked almost human back then too. Just… better. Ethereal. Beautiful enough to make people trust them immediately. Then came the laws. Then came the military. Then came the emperor before Garus. And by the time humanity realized what was happening, Earth already belonged to someone else.
Y/N stepped around a leaking pipe as two workers argued nearby over credits. Further down the corridor, a group of human workers lowered their heads as three alien officers walked through the market. The crowd shifted instinctively around them, conversations dimming just slightly. Fear still lived here. The officers barely looked at anyone. Tall. Beautiful. One shaded a light blue, the other pale. Silver insignias gleaming beneath market lights. The blue one laughed at something the pale one said as they passed. Y/N’s jaw tightened unconsciously as a child darted past her through the crowd holding a glowing toy ship probably stolen from one of the upper markets. Somewhere nearby, someone cursed as electricity flickered. Above the underground, another transport ship rumbled overhead. She stopped near a vendor station glowing blue beneath faulty lights. “Two wraps,” she muttered, sliding credits across the counter. The old woman behind it gave her a tired look. “Prices went up again.”
“Again?”
“Imperial tax.”
Of course it was. Y/N exhaled sharply through her nose and handed over another credit chip as above them, one of the giant screens flickered again. This time the imperial family appeared. The emperor and his son. The crowd’s reaction was immediate. Some humans looked away while others stared openly. Emperor Garus stood at the center in dark ceremonial robes threaded with gold, calm faced and impossibly composed even through static interference. Beside him stood Crown Prince Mingi. Y/N only glanced once before regretting it immediately. Tall. Broad shouldered. Silver blond hair swept back from his face. He had a faint pale marking near his right eye that caught the light like liquid metal beneath skin. Royal blood. Even through a damaged screen he looked unreal. Like something designed instead of born.
A reporter spoke rapidly in alien dialect beneath subtitles discussing trade expansions and upper sector construction projects. “Pretty, isn’t he?” the vendor muttered absentmindedly as Y/N grabbed the food wraps from the counter. “He’s an alien,” she said flatly and disappeared back into the crowd beneath the glow of Solaria Prime. The lower district quieted slightly the deeper Y/N moved into the residential sectors. Not quieter in sound. Quieter in energy. The market chaos faded behind her, replaced with cramped hallways lit by weak strips of flickering overhead light. Old pipes lined the ceilings like exposed veins, dripping occasionally onto rust stained floors. Apartment doors stacked one over another climbed upward through the massive underground structure, thousands of tiny living spaces crammed together beneath the weight of Solaria Prime above. The hum from the upper city never stopped. Especially here.
Y/N climbed the narrow metal stairs toward the fifth level, boots echoing softly against grated steps. Someone nearby was arguing through paper thin walls. A baby cried somewhere above her. The smell of cheap noodles and machine grease lingered in the air. Home. Or close enough. She reached the top landing just as her neighbor’s apartment slid open. “All right, there you are.” Y/N resisted the urge to sigh immediately as Allara leaned against the doorway holding some glowing tablet in one hand, dark curls piled messily on top of her head while excitement practically radiated off her. Unlike most humans in the underground, Allara loved aliens. Or at least loved the idea of them. She wore imitation upper sector makeup, copied alien fashion trends from underground feeds, and spent most nights watching royal broadcasts like they were entertainment instead of propaganda. Y/N still didn’t understand it “What?”
“All right, first of all,” Allara said, pointing the tablet dramatically at her, “you are not allowed to give me that look because I have news.”
“That sentence alone already makes me tired.”
“You’re always tired.”
“Living here does that.”
Allara ignored her completely, practically vibrating now. “The royals are replacing palace staff.” Y/N paused halfway through unlocking her apartment door. “What?”
“The imperial palace,” Allara repeated. “Upper sector staffing rotation. Apparently a bunch of the emperor’s human subordinates got reassigned or something.” Y/N stared at her. “And why exactly do you know this?”
“Because unlike someone, I pay attention to things happening outside this moldy tunnel.”
Y/N snorted softly, pushing her apartment door open. Inside, the unit was barely bigger than a storage pod. Tiny kitchenette. Fold down cot. Old vent fan rattling near the ceiling. One narrow window screen displaying a simulated desert skyline instead of the concrete wall outside. Allara followed her inside without invitation as usual. “I’m serious,” she said. “They’re selecting humans from lower sectors too.”
“Sounds terrible.”
“It sounds life changing.”
“It sounds like volunteering to become decoration in some rich alien’s house.”
Allara rolled her eyes dramatically. “You are so dramatic.”
“And you’re weirdly obsessed with people who conquered the planet.”
“They didn’t conquer me,” Allara shot back before lowering her voice slightly. “Besides, not all of them are bad.” Y/N tossed her jacket onto the back of a chair. “That’s what everyone says right before getting screwed over.” Allara huffed, then turned the tablet around toward her. A recruitment notice glowed across the screen beneath the imperial crest.
UPPER SECTOR SERVICE INITIATIVE
SELECTED HUMAN APPLICANTS WILL RECEIVE:
* RESIDENCY
* HEALTH BENEFITS
* INCREASED RATION ACCESS
* EDUCATIONAL OPPORTUNITIES
SUBORDINATES MAY BE ASSIGNED DIRECTLY TO MEMBERS OF THE IMPERIAL HOUSEHOLD.
Y/N immediately looked away. Nope. Absolutely not. “You know they choose based on compatibility profiles now?” Allara continued excitedly. “Personality tests, education records, work history. They literally pull people from all over the city.”
“Great. Sounds invasive.”
“It is invasive. It’s the palace.”
Y/N grabbed one of the food wraps and dropped onto the edge of her cot as Allara studied her for a second before grinning slowly. “You’d actually have a shot, you know.” Y/N nearly choked. “At what?”
“Getting picked.”
Y/N barked out a laugh. “Please. They’d take one look at my file and launch me directly into the sun.”
“You’re educated, you’ve never been arrested, your work reports are good…”
“My attitude alone disqualifies me.”
“That’s fixable.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Allara flopped down beside her dramatically. “Imagine it though,” she said dreamily. “Upper sector views. Real sunlight. Imperial parties.”
“Alien surveillance. Alien control. Alien nonsense.”
“Alien men.”
Y/N gave her a flat look and Allara grinned wider. “Oh come on. You’ve seen the prince, haven’t you?” Y/N rolled her eyes, taking a bite of her wrap. “Everybody has seen the prince.”
“And?”
“And what?”
Allara leaned closer like she was about to confess state secrets. “He’s hot.” Y/N stared at her. “You need help.”
“He’s objectively beautiful.”
“He’s objectively the face of an empire that treats humans like pets.”
Allara rolled her eyes again. “You’re impossible.” Maybe. But Y/N still glanced once toward the flickering screen on Allara’s tablet before looking away. Sure he was hot but he was still the prince of the entire planet now. Probably spoiled. An asshole. Thinks of humans beneath him.
Dangerous.
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Far above the underground districts, morning in Solaria Prime looked artificial it was so bright. Sunlight spilled across the palace towers in sheets of gold so perfect it almost hurt to look at. Massive glass structures reflected the desert horizon endlessly while floating transport lanes curved through the sky beyond them. Waterfalls poured down white stone terraces into glowing pools hundreds of feet below. Everything in the imperial sector was clean. Polished and silent. Even the air smelled expensive.
Seonghwa hated mornings here. Especially this morning. The doors to the prince’s chambers slid open with a quiet hiss as he stepped inside carrying a datapad beneath one arm. The room was enormous, naturally. Floor to ceiling windows overlooked the entire capital, giving a direct view of Solaria Prime stretching endlessly into the desert. Thin translucent curtains drifted softly in the conditioned air while low music still played somewhere from the previous night. Clothes littered the floor. Jewelry sparkled forgotten across tables.
And in the center of the massive bed, completely unconscious and very naked, lay the future emperor of Earth. Seonghwa sighed. “Your Highness.” Three alien women looked up sleepily from beneath tangled black sheets. Two green skinned. One pale pink with silver markings running along her shoulders. One of them groaned dramatically as Mingi finally surfaced enough to drag an arm over his face. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Tell him I died.”
“He’ll ask for proof.”
Mingi cracked one eye open toward Seonghwa before slowly sitting up, hair completely ruined from sleep and last night’s activities. Even half awake he still looked unfairly ethereal. The silver white marking around his right eye glimmered faintly beneath the room’s soft lighting. Seonghwa hated that. Not the marking. The fact Mingi could look like a divine celestial being while acting like an overgrown menace. “You have ten minutes,” Seonghwa said.
Mingi stretched lazily, completely unbothered by his lack of clothing. “You’re so hostile in the mornings.”
“And you’re impossible.”
One of the women reached for Mingi again only for Seonghwa to immediately point toward the door. “Out.”
“Rude,” the pink skinned alien muttered.
“Very.”
Still, they obeyed quickly. Nobody ignored palace orders. Especially not orders involving the emperor’s son. The alien women gathered their discarded fabrics and jewelry before slipping out of the chambers laughing quietly among themselves as Mingi finally swung his legs over the edge of the bed with a groan. “If this is another lecture about gambling, I’m throwing myself off the palace.”
Seonghwa handed him a dark robe. “It’s worse.”
Mingi blinked slowly. “Impossible.”
“Your father wants to discuss a possible joining between your bloodline and House Vaelor.”
Mingi made a deeply offended noise. “Absolutely not. Azura is fucking crazy.” Seonghwa watched him disappear toward the dressing area before speaking again. “The emperor considers it politically advantageous.”
“Of course he does.” Mingi’s voice echoed from behind the partition now. The sound of drawers opening. Fabric shifting. Jewelry clinking against marble counters. “Do I at least get to reject her dramatically?”
“No.”
“Cruel.”
Seonghwa moved toward the windows overlooking the city below. From this height, Solaria Prime barely looked real. The lower sectors vanished beneath sunlight and glass towers. The underground city wasn’t visible at all from here. Humans became statistics at this level. Numbers inside reports. Workers moving through systems built by people more powerful than them.
Mingi emerged a moment later dressed in loose black layers threaded subtly with silver. Rings glinted along his fingers while the pale marking near his eye caught the light again. Royal and completely untouchable. Spoiled beyond reason. And unfortunately one of Seonghwa’s favorite people in the galaxy. Mingi grabbed a glass from the counter before pausing suddenly. “Tonight’s the Remembrance Festival.”
Seonghwa immediately frowned. Every year humans gathered in lower sectors to remember Earth before the empire. Candles. Music. Stories from survivors and descendants. Quiet resistance disguised as memorial tradition. The palace tolerated it mostly because banning it entirely decades ago had caused riots. “Yes,” Seonghwa said carefully as Mingi took a slow drink before smirking slightly. “I think I’m going.”
Seonghwa stared at him. “Why?” Mingi shrugged lazily. “Why not?”
“Because the lower districts barely tolerate imperial guards, let alone the crown prince wandering through their streets.”
“That’s what disguises are for.”
“That’s what common sense is for.”
Mingi grinned immediately at that. There it was. That reckless curiosity. The thing that drove the entire palace insane. Most royal bloodlines kept distance from humans naturally. Even kind nobles maintained the separation. The empire functioned on hierarchy. But Mingi looked at forbidden things and wanted to walk directly toward them. “Humans are interesting,” he said simply as Seonghwa folded his arms. “Humans hate us.”
“Some do.”
“Most do.”
Mingi only smiled faintly at the city beyond the windows.
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The emperor’s private council chamber sat near the highest point of the palace. Not even because of symbolism. Because Garus liked the quiet. The higher levels of the imperial tower were nearly soundless compared to the entertainment sectors below. No music. No gambling halls. No drifting crowds of nobles filling corridors with gossip and politics. Only stillness. Massive windows curved along the walls overlooking Solaria Prime in its entirety, the desert horizon glowing gold beneath the artificial atmosphere regulators suspended miles above the city.
The doors opened as Mingi entered without announcement. Naturally. Nobody stopped the crown prince from going anywhere. Garus stood near the windows with his hands folded behind his back, dark ceremonial robes flowing around him in sharp elegant lines. Age touched him differently than humans. After thirty years on the throne, he still looked powerful rather than old. Silver threaded faintly through dark hair near his temples while pale markings disappeared beneath the collar of his robes. The resemblance between father and son was obvious. Same sharp eyes. Same unnerving stillness when they chose to use it. But where Mingi carried chaos barely hidden beneath charm… Garus carried control. “You’re late,” the emperor said calmly.
Mingi walked straight toward the drink table. “I was asleep.”
“You were occupied.”
“Also true.”
Garus sighed once through his nose. “I assume Seonghwa informed you about House Vaelor.”
“He did.” Mingi poured himself a drink. “I hated every second of the conversation.”
“This joining would strengthen the southern colonies.”
“It would bore me to death.”
“Mingi.”
“There it is,” Mingi muttered dramatically before taking a sip as Garus turned fully toward him now. “You are twenty five years old.” Mingi immediately groaned. “Not this speech again.”
“You are the heir to the imperial throne. To Earth.”
“And yet somehow still allowed to have opinions.”
“You will inherit this empire. This planet.”
Mingi rolled his eyes so hard it almost looked painful and the emperor’s expression tightened slightly. “You continue treating your responsibilities like temporary inconveniences.”
“Because they are temporary inconveniences.”
“They are your future.”
“No,” Mingi corrected calmly. “They’re your future that you keep trying to hand to me.” Silence settled briefly between them as far below the palace transport ships drifted between towers in glowing streams of light. Garus studied his son carefully. “You still speak of leaving.”
“I still mean it.”
“You would abandon the throne.”
“I would rather explore the outer systems than spend decades arguing trade routes and pretending nobles enjoy each other’s company.”
“You speak like a child.”
Mingi laughed softly at that, leaning back against the table. “No. I speak like someone honest enough to admit he doesn’t want this.” Garus turned back toward the city again. “You think ruling is about desire?”
“I think ruling sounds miserable.”
“It is necessary.”
“For you maybe.”
“For our bloodline.”
Mingi’s jaw tightened slightly at that. Always the bloodline. The empire. The future. Royal heirs weren’t raised as people first. They were raised as continuations of power. Garus’s voice softened only slightly. “When I inherited the throne, I was younger than you are now.”
“And deeply traumatized,” Mingi replied immediately causing his father to look at him sharply and Mingi just shrugged. “You never talk about grandfather unless someone forces you to.” Garus said nothing. Which was answer enough. The previous emperor had ruled through brutality. Entire human sectors burned under his reign during the occupation years. Even alien nobles had feared him. Garus spent three decades rebuilding the empire’s image after inheriting the throne at nineteen. To aliens, he became respected. Measured. Modern. To humans….. less monstrous was still monstrous. “You have freedoms I never did,” Garus said eventually.
“I know.”
“And still you complain.”
“I’m not complaining,” Mingi replied. “I’m telling you I don’t want to spend my life trapped in this palace.”
“You are not trapped.”
Mingi glanced around the enormous chamber. The polished stone. The guards outside every door. The expectations stitched into every wall. Then he smiled humorlessly. “Sure.” Garus watched him for a long moment before changing direction entirely. “You’ve been visiting the lower sectors again.” Mingi froze for half a second before recovering smoothly. “Maybe.”
“You are increasingly careless.”
“I wear disguises.”
“You are six foot three with royal markings.”
Mingi grinned despite himself. “Fair point.”
Garus’s gaze sharpened. “The humans are restless lately.”
“They’re always restless.”
“They remember too much.”
That sentence sat heavily in the room and Mingi looked away first this time. Tonight’s Remembrance Festival. Garus moved toward the council table slowly. “You would do well to remember that curiosity toward humans is not the same as understanding them.” Mingi tilted his head slightly. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Garus said carefully, “you are attaching to them.” Mingi snorted softly. “That sounds dramatic.”
“You spend enough time among them to become fascinated. Fascination clouds judgment.”
Mingi swirled the drink in his glass lazily. Or maybe humans just seemed more alive than everyone in this palace. He didn’t say that aloud though, instead he smirked slightly. “You’re worried I’ll run away with a human from the underground?” Garus looked entirely unimpressed. “You joke now.”
Mingi only grinned wider.
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By the time Y/N left her apartment again, the underground had shifted into evening rhythm. The markets were louder now. Busier. Narrow streets crowded with workers finally off shift, neon signs buzzing overhead while steam curled from vents along the walls. Somewhere deeper in the district, music echoed through old transit tunnels mixed with distant laughter and the rumble of passing cargo rails overhead. The Remembrance Festival had already started. Not officially. Officially the gathering wouldn’t begin until later tonight when candles were lit through the lower sectors and stories passed between generations like sacred things. But the feeling of it was already everywhere.
Humans moved differently on Remembrance night. Softer. Sadder. Prouder. Old Earth flags appeared in windows despite technically being prohibited. Someone nearby projected faded images onto a concrete wall of oceans untouched by imperial terraforming. Children ran through the streets carrying paper lanterns while elders watched them with exhausted fondness. For one night every year, humans allowed themselves to remember they used to belong to this planet.
Y/N pulled her hood up slightly as she crossed another crowded intersection before turning down a quieter corridor lined with older businesses. Most of the shops down here barely survived anymore. Imperial imports and upper sector production crushed small human owned places years ago. But some still held on through sheer stubbornness. Including the Choi family repair shop. The glowing sign above the entrance flickered unevenly: CHOI ELECTRICAL & REPAIR Half the letters no longer worked.
Y/N smiled despite herself as the front door slid open with a loud mechanical protest as she stepped inside. Warm air hit her immediately. The smell of machine oil, soldering metal, and fried food wrapped around her in a way that felt dangerously close to home. Parts cluttered every available surface. Old radios sat disassembled beside alien tech stripped for scraps. Music played softly from somewhere in the back while tools clinked against metal. “You’re late.”
Y/N looked toward the voice automatically. San stood behind the main counter holding some half disassembled circuit panel in one hand, dark hair falling into his eyes while grease streaked one side of his jaw. His sleeves were shoved to his elbows, exposing toned forearms covered in tiny old burn scars from years working around overheated wiring. He looked tired. Then again, everyone did these days. “You say that every time I come here,” Y/N replied.
“Because every time you come here, you’re late.”
“I wasn’t aware this was a scheduled emotional support visit.”
San snorted softly under his breath before setting the panel aside. Unlike Allara, San hated aliens almost as much as Y/N did. Maybe more. He just hid it quieter. The Choi family had owned this repair shop before the empire ever reached Earth. San’s grandparents still talked about old Los Angeles sometimes like ghosts lingering in conversation. Y/N practically grew up here after her parents died. Long nights sleeping in the back office while her grandfather worked. Shared dinners. Shared grief. This place was the closest thing she had left to family.
San’s eyes narrowed slightly as she approached the counter. “You look annoyed.”
“I’m always annoyed.”
“No,” he said. “This is specific annoyance.” Y/N leaned against the counter with a sigh. “Allara’s convinced the imperial palace is selecting humans for staffing rotations.” San visibly recoiled. “Disgusting.”
“Thank you.”
“She said I’d probably get picked.”
His expression immediately turned horrified. “You absolutely would.” Y/N stared at him. “Whose side are you on?”
“I’m serious.” He pointed at her vaguely. “You’ve got that whole… competent thing going for you.”
“What a romantic compliment.”
“You know what I mean.”
Unfortunately she did. Imperial staffing selections were invasive. They scanned work history, health records, psychological evaluations. Humans chosen for palace service usually disappeared into upper sectors permanently. Some came back richer. Others came back quieter.
San folded his arms now, expression darkening slightly. “My dad says they’ve been increasing selections this year.”
“Why?”
“Political image probably.” His jaw tightened. “Make the empire look generous.” Y/N glanced toward the old holoscreen mounted near the back wall. Static flickered across a news report showing upper sector preparations for some royal gathering. Alien nobles drifted through the screen in glittering fabrics while reporters spoke excitedly. Royal bloodline negotiations.
San scowled. “They make my skin crawl.”
“The royals?”
“All of them.”
Y/N hummed softly in agreement. The thing about imperial broadcasts was that they always looked beautiful. Perfect lighting. Elegant speeches. Ethereal faces staring calmly into cameras while the underground fought over ration credits beneath them. Sometimes Y/N wondered if that was the point. Make oppression look pretty enough and eventually people stop calling it oppression.
“San!” San’s mother yelled. “Did you finish inventory?”
“No!”
“Then do it!”
Y/N barked out a surprised laugh while San groaned. “She’s impossible.” Y/N smiled faintly at that before moving toward the back counter where boxes of festival candles sat stacked beside old Earth photographs. Her grandfather used to come here every Remembrance night. Used to sit at that exact counter telling stories about oceans and stars before alien ships filled the sky.
“You going tonight?” San asked. Y/N looked over her shoulder. “Yeah,” she said quietly, waiting for San to finish up. And by nightfall, the underground city looked almost beautiful. Not polished like the upper sectors. Not sterile and glowing beneath palace lights. This beauty was human. Messy. Loud and alive.
The Remembrance Festival flooded the lower districts in color and noise as thousands of people crowded the old tunnel streets beneath Solaria Prime. Strings of warm lights hung between rusted support beams while lanterns painted the concrete walls amber and blue. Music echoed through the underground from handmade speakers and old instruments humans refused to let disappear.
Y/N walked beside San through the packed festival streets while heat and noise wrapped around them from every direction. Children darted through crowds carrying paper stars. Vendors shouted over one another from glowing stalls lined with old Earth foods and handmade trinkets. Someone nearby projected pre occupation photographs onto the tunnel ceiling, oceans, mountains, cities before alien architecture swallowed them whole.
Y/N always forgot how crowded Remembrance became until she was in the middle of it again. San nudged her shoulder lightly as they squeezed past another group gathered around musicians playing something old and melancholy. “You’re glaring.”
“I’m thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
She rolled her eyes but the corner of her mouth twitched slightly anyway as a smell hit her a second later. Sweet. Warm. Sugared dough and cinnamon. Both of them slowed instinctively. The tiny dessert stall ahead already had a ridiculous line wrapped around it, steam curling into the air while an exhausted old man fried golden pastries behind the counter and San groaned softly beside her. “Absolutely not.”
Y/N looked at him immediately. “You literally stopped walking first.”
“They’re overpriced.”
“They’re once a year.”
“They’re robbery.”
“You’re getting in line.”
San muttered something under his breath but followed her anyway. Some traditions survived everything. Including Remembrance sweets. The recipe supposedly dated back before the occupation. Before Solaria Prime. Before the empire. Nobody even knew if that was true anymore, but every year humans lined up for them anyway like tasting something old enough could connect them to a world they’d never seen. The line moved painfully slow. By the time they finally reached the front, San looked personally victimized by capitalism. “This better change my life.”
“It won’t,” the vendor replied immediately.
“Then why is it twelve credits?”
“Inflation.”
San looked offended enough to start a revolution himself as Y/N laughed softly as she handed over the credits before he could continue arguing. The old man passed them two paper trays piled with warm pastries dusted in sugar crystals that shimmered faintly beneath the festival lights. The first bite nearly burned Y/N’s tongue. Worth it. Warm dough. Sweet cream filling. Cinnamon and spice melting together instantly. San closed his eyes dramatically after biting into his own. “All right,” he admitted. “I forgive inflation.”
“Thought so.”
They moved away from the stall slowly, drifting back into the river of people moving through the underground. Somewhere overhead, distant fireworks from the upper sectors flashed faintly through the cracks between levels of the city. Imperial celebrations for something entirely different. Down here, humans celebrated memory instead. Y/N glanced around as they walked. Elderly survivors sat outside crowded cafés telling stories to younger generations. Candles lined windowsills. Music spilled from old bars packed shoulder to shoulder with workers finally allowed one night to breathe.
And for the first time in a while she felt lighter. Until San suddenly stiffened beside her. Y/N looked over immediately. “What?” He frowned toward the crowd ahead. At first she didn’t understand what he noticed. Then she saw him. Tall. Far too tall to blend into the underground properly. Dressed in black layered fabrics with the hood pulled low over pale blond hair. Most people wouldn’t notice but Y/N did. Something about the way he moved felt wrong for this place. Too graceful. Too composed.
The stranger stood near one of the lantern stalls watching the festival quietly while crowds moved around him. Then he looked up. And even from halfway down the street, Y/N caught the faint glimmer of silver near his right eye beneath the hood. Royal blood. Her stomach dropped instantly as San saw it too. “What the hell is a royal doing down here?” he muttered darkly. But before either of them could move, the stranger’s gaze landed directly on Y/N and he smiled.
Y/N’s stomach tightened. Nope. Absolutely not. “Come on,” she muttered immediately, grabbing San’s sleeve lightly. “Let’s go the other way.” San didn’t argue. One look at the silver glint near that man’s eye and he was already steering them deeper into the crowd. Humans shifted around them shoulder to shoulder beneath strings of lanterns while music echoed through the underground tunnel streets. Behind them, Y/N could still feel it. That gaze. Not threatening exactly. Interested. Which somehow annoyed her more. “Maybe he’ll disappear back to wherever he crawled out of,” she muttered.
San snorted softly. “That was definitely royal blood. Do you think it was the Prince? Couldn’t see much of his face.”
“Maybe.”
“What do you think he’s doing down here?”
“Probably slumming for entertainment.” The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth as they turned another corner into one of the wider market sections where handmade lanterns floated overhead like tiny stars. Up ahead, a crowd had gathered around the festival fireworks station near the old rail platform. Fireworks. Technically. Humans weren’t allowed access to real explosive displays anymore after the occupation riots decades ago, but underground engineers had learned to improvise. The result was usually colorful plasma bursts and enough smoke to make everyone cough for an hour afterward.
San suddenly perked up slightly. “That’s my dad.” Y/N looked over toward the platform where Mr. Choi stood beside a half built launcher arguing animatedly with another older man. Mr. Reynolds. Of course. The two of them nearly started electrical fires every festival. “They’re gonna blow themselves up,” Y/N said.
“Probably.” San handed her the remainder of his paper tray. “Hold this.”
“You trust me with food?”
“No. But I trust them less with explosives.”
Y/N laughed softly as he disappeared into the crowd toward the launcher platform. For a moment she stayed where she was, leaning lightly against one of the old support beams while festival noise swelled around her. Then she saw Vernon and her entire mood crashed instantly. The older man stood near one of the alley entrances speaking to two larger men beside him, thick fingers glittering with cheap rings beneath the lights. Vernon always looked sweaty no matter the temperature, his face permanently twisted into something between annoyance and greed. Loan sharks thrived in the underground. Especially after the empire.
And Y/N still owed him credits from when her grandfather got sick. Wonderful. She turned immediately but Vernon’s eyes locked onto her through the crowd. “Well now,” he called and Y/N muttered a curse under her breath and started walking faster, tossing her and San’s trash from their treats away.
“Y/N!”
She ignored him as people shifted around her in the crowded street while music pounded through the tunnels. She cut sharply down one of the side alleys between vendor rows hoping to lose him. Didn’t work though. Bootsteps followed immediately. Then another set. And another. Y/N barely made it halfway down the narrow alley before Vernon and his men boxed her in beneath flickering overhead lights. The sounds of the festival dulled slightly back here.
Vernon smiled humorlessly. “You’ve been hard to find lately.” Y/N crossed her arms. “Funny. I’ve been trying.” One of the larger men snorted but Vernon didn’t. “You know,” he said slowly, stepping closer, “I tried being civil with you because of who your family was.” Y/N leaned back, folding her arms casually despite the tension curling in her stomach. “Aw. That almost sounded emotional.”
Vernon’s jaw tightened. “Your grandfather was respected.”
“Unlike you.”
The larger man to Vernon’s left stepped forward immediately. “Watch your mouth.” Y/N only rolled her eyes. “Or what?” Wrong answer apparently because the man lunged forward suddenly and Y/N instinctively stepped backward only for her spine to hit something solid behind her. Not wall. Warm. Tall. Very tall. Y/N frowned slightly before turning her head. Black hood. Silver blond hair. And faintly glowing beside his right eye beneath the shadows… that marking. Fuck. San had been right on who the Royal was.
Vernon visibly paled and his men backed up instantly. Every trace of aggression vanished so fast it was almost embarrassing. “Y…. your Highness,” Vernon stammered as behind Y/N, the prince said nothing at first before calmly saying, “Continue.” Vernon looked like he wanted to evaporate. “N…. no, your Highness. Just a misunderstanding.”
“Mm.” That single sound somehow carried more authority than shouting ever could. The alley stayed frozen another painful second before Vernon grabbed his men and practically fled back toward the festival crowd. Cowards. Y/N immediately stepped away from the prince once the alley cleared. “I could’ve handled that.” The words came out sharp automatically. No fear. No bowing. No awe. Just irritation.
Mingi stared at her openly beneath the hood of his disguise. Most humans either froze around him or overcompensated trying to impress him. This girl looked genuinely annoyed he existed. “You’re welcome,” he said finally and Y/N scoffed softly before turning and heading back toward the festival streets with Mingi following without hesitation. “You always talk to royalty like that?” he asked.
“You always follow women into alleys?”
“Only interesting ones.”
Y/N snorted as Mingi’s gaze drifted lower for half a second as they walked beneath the glowing lantern lights spilling into the corridor straight to her ass and of course she noticed. “Stop staring at my ass.” Mingi blinked once before grinning slowly. “I’m not one of the dumb humans who crawls into alien beds,” she added over her shoulder and his grin widened instantly. “I have you know,” he replied lazily, “I’ve never slept with a human before.”
Y/N looked back at him flatly. “Congratulations. You want a cookie?” Mingi laughed. Actually laughed. Bright and surprised and completely genuine beneath the underground lights. And against all logic…. Y/N noticed it sounded painfully human as the festival swallowed sound around them again the closer they moved back toward the main streets. Y/N could already spot San near the fireworks platform arguing with his father and Mr. Reynolds over some crooked launcher tube that looked one bad decision away from exploding sideways into the crowd.
She started toward them immediately while behind her, Mingi fell into step again. Still smiling. Still entirely too entertained by this. “You know,” he said casually, “most people are at least a little nervous around me.”
“That sounds exhausting for them.”
“It has benefits.”
“I’m sure.” She caught San glancing up from across the crowd now, confusion crossing his face immediately at the sight of her walking beside the prince and Y/N moved faster just as Mingi reached for her. Not aggressively. Not enough to stop her. Just fingertips brushing lightly around her wrist to keep her attention for one more second. But the second his skin touched hers Y/N jumped as a sharp pulse shot up her arm like static electricity snapping beneath her skin.
Y/N pulled her wrist back immediately as her pulse kicked harder than it should’ve and Mingi stared openly now, eyes flicking briefly toward the hand that touched her then back to her face. “What’s your name?” The question came quieter this time. Less teasing. Which somehow made it worse. Y/N took another step backward toward the crowd and away from him as around them, festival lights reflected gold and blue against the alley walls while music echoed through the underground tunnels and the crown prince of Solaria Prime stood there beneath human lanterns staring at her like he’d just discovered something fascinating.
Y/N’s survival instincts screamed it immediately. Because this was how powerful people ruined lives. Curiosity first. Possession second. She refused to become some underground story about the prince who got bored with a human girl for two weeks. So instead she tilted her head slightly, “You’re a prince.” Mingi blinked once as Y/N stepped backward into the crowd fully now, already turning away. “I’m sure you can figure it out.” Then she disappeared back into the festival lights before he could stop her again.
And Mingi stood there motionless in the middle of the underground city smiling slowly to himself. Because she was right. He absolutely could.
By the time Y/N reached the fireworks platform again, her heart still hadn’t settled properly. Which was irritating. It was just a touch. One touch. Probably some weird alien static thing from all the tech flooding the underground tonight. Definitely not something worth thinking about. Absolutely not something worth replaying in her head while the feeling still lingered faintly beneath her skin.
San spotted her immediately the second she pushed back through the crowd. Mr. Reynolds chose that exact moment to accidentally trigger one of the launchers, sending a sputtering stream of purple sparks sideways into a food stall that made people scream. “NOT AGAIN.”
San barely looked at the fireworks disaster unfolding behind him. “Why,” he asked slowly, “was the fucking prince talking to you?” Y/N shook her head, brushing it off. “He wasn’t.” San stared at her. “You were literally standing together.”
“He was standing. I was trying to leave.”
“That was Crown Prince Mingi.”
“I know.”
“Why was he following you around the festival like some undercover psychopath?”
Y/N shrugged casually despite the fact her wrist still tingled annoyingly where he touched her. “He’s weird.”
“That’s not an explanation.”
“He probably got bored in his giant evil palace.”
“Y/N.”
She exhaled dramatically. “Vernon cornered me in one of the alleys. The prince showed up. Vernon pissed himself. End of story.” San blinked. Then blinked again. “The prince saved you from Vernon?” He stared at her another long second before groaning and dragging a hand down his face. “This is bad.”
“How is this bad?”
“The crown prince knowing you exist feels bad.”
Y/N snorted softly at that. “Trust me, he’ll forget about me in like twelve hours.”
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
The palace felt colder after the underground. Not temperature wise. Emotionally. Mingi noticed it immediately stepping off the private transport platform high above Solaria Prime. The warmth and noise of the human festival disappeared the second the palace doors sealed behind him, replaced by polished silence and soft artificial lighting stretching endlessly through marble corridors. Everything here echoed. Every footstep. Every voice. Every expectation.
Imperial guards bowed as he passed. Servants lowered their eyes. Mingi barely acknowledged any of it, already halfway distracted by one thing….. Her. The human girl with a sharp tongue and too much attitude who’d looked at him like he was a problem instead of royalty. The faint sensation from touching her wrist still lingered annoyingly in the back of his mind too. That had definitely been strange. Alien sensory instincts rarely reacted unpredictably. Especially not with humans.
Mingi rounded another corner quickly only to stop short seeing his father standing near the central observation hall. Garus turned slightly at his approach, expression unreadable as always. “You were in the lower sectors.” Mingi shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat lazily. “Maybe.” The emperor studied him for half a second. Long enough that most people would’ve started panicking but Mingi didn’t and Garus surprisingly let it go. “Your cousin Wooyoung will be arriving in a few days.”
Mingi blinked once before immediately groaning. “Oh no.” A faint hint of amusement flickered across Garus’s face despite himself. “Your aunt requested he remain here temporarily.”
“That sentence alone sounds threatening.”
“Wooyoung has responsibilities to learn.”
“Wooyoung actively avoids responsibilities.”
“He reminds me of you.”
“That’s deeply insulting to both of us.”
Garus ignored that smoothly. “The southern delegates arrive next month. Behave accordingly.” Mingi nodded distractedly already halfway focused elsewhere. “Mm.” The emperor narrowed his eyes slightly. “You are not listening.”
“I’m listening enough.”
“Mingi.”
“Father,” he replied automatically before immediately continuing past him as Garus watched his son disappear down the corridor with visible suspicion. The crown prince almost never moved with urgency unless chaos was involved. Mingi barely noticed the palace around him anymore as he cut through multiple secured corridors toward one of the restricted lower levels beneath the imperial residence. The Interface Room. Technically only authorized for imperial administration and intelligence access. Which for Mingi meant, completely accessible whenever he wanted.
The doors slid open as he approached. Darkness greeted him first. Then light. Massive holographic interfaces flickered awake across the circular room, projecting endless streams of information into the air. Population records. District surveillance. Employment databases. Citizen files. The empire documented everything. Mingi moved straight toward the center console. “Search lower district festival surveillance,” he ordered and the system chimed softly. “Specify target.”
Mingi paused before he smirked faintly to himself. “Human female. Twenty ish. Annoyed at my existence.” The system remained silent as he ran a hand through his hair before focusing properly now. Lower district sector. Approximate location. Festival timestamp. Faces flickered rapidly through holographic screens around him as the system filtered thousands of citizens from tonight’s crowds. Mingi leaned closer impatiently. “Come on…” he muttered. More faces. More names…… the screen froze.
Her. Captured mid turn beneath lantern light, irritation written all over her face and Mingi grinned immediately. “There you are.” The file expanded beside her image automatically.
HUMAN CITIZEN RECORD:
Y/N L/N
AGE: 22
RESIDENCY: LOWER DISTRICT 5-C
EMPLOYMENT STATUS: ACTIVE
FAMILY STATUS: DECEASED
“Y/N…” he repeated her name quietly. The sound of it settling strangely in his chest. Then his eyes flicked lower across the file and slowly his grin disappeared. Because suddenly this wasn’t just some random girl from the underground anymore. Now she was real. Documented. Trackable. Reachable. And Mingi had never been very good at leaving interesting things alone.
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Morning sunlight poured through the upper palace levels in sheets of gold and white, reflecting endlessly against glass walls and polished floors until the entire imperial residence glowed like something divine suspended above the desert. Mingi hated mornings here. Too quiet. Too clean. Too many expectations waiting behind every door. Usually Seonghwa had to physically drag him out of bed before noon while threatening palace embarrassment and diplomatic incidents.
Today, however, Mingi walked into his father’s private office before sunrise fully dressed and carrying a datapad under one arm. That alone immediately made Garus suspicious as he sat near the massive curved windows overlooking Solaria Prime, already halfway through reviewing council reports while steam curled from a dark cup beside him. His robes today were simpler than ceremonial wear, though simplicity still looked expensive on him. The faint markings near his throat disappeared beneath dark fabric while pale morning light sharpened the tiredness hidden beneath his otherwise composed expression. “You’re awake.”
Mingi dropped into the chair across from the desk lazily. “Tragic, I know.” The emperor narrowed his eyes slightly. “I didn’t even have to send Seonghwa.”
“He’ll survive the disappointment.”
That suspicion deepened. Garus had raised Mingi long enough to recognize when his son looked too pleased with himself. Which was often. But this particular expression usually meant problems. Mingi slid the datapad across the desk casually. “I found my new subordinate.” Garus narrowed his eyes. “That quickly?”
“I’m efficient.”
“You are many things. Efficient is rarely one of them.”
Mingi grinned faintly as his father finally picked up the datapad with visible caution. At first his expression remained neutral as the file opened. Human citizen. Lower district. Work history. Then Garus reached the attached image and immediately sighed, gaze flicking back toward Mingi slowly. “Absolutely not.”
Mingi looked offended instantly. “You read that fast?”
“You chose an attractive human woman from the underground after sneaking into the lower sectors during Remembrance Festival.” Garus tossed the datapad back onto the desk. “I do not require additional context.” Mingi leaned back further in the chair, completely unashamed. “She’s qualified.”
“You are incapable of subtlety.”
“That feels unrelated.”
Garus gave him a deeply unimpressed look. The emperor knew his son too well. Knew the recklessness hidden beneath the charm. Knew Mingi’s fascination with humans wasn’t rooted in cruelty or novelty the way it often was for other nobles. That almost made it worse. “She has excellent work evaluations,” Mingi continued smoothly, gesturing vaguely toward the datapad. “No criminal history. High education scores considering district limitations. She’d function well within palace administration.”
“She insulted you, didn’t she?” Mingi went quiet for half a second and Garus sighed again. “There it is.”
“She’s interesting.”
“She’s human.”
Mingi’s jaw tightened slightly at the dismissal in his father’s tone. Not openly cruel. Just instinctive. The kind of ingrained superiority every noble in the empire carried whether they admitted it or not. Garus stood slowly from behind the desk now, moving toward the windows overlooking the capital below. “You become fascinated too easily,” he said calmly.
“She’s not some dangerous revolutionary.”
“That is not what concerns me.”
Mingi watched him carefully as that subtle shift in Garus’s voice whenever the subject turned personal instead of political happened. “You think I’m going to sleep with her,” Mingi said flatly and that made Garus look back at him. “You already brought her to my desk less than hours after meeting her.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
The emperor stayed silent long enough that the answer became obvious anyway and Mingi scoffed softly, standing now himself. “You’re dramatic.”
“No,” Garus corrected calmly. “I know you.” Mingi started pacing lazily instead of arguing outright. The office stretched massive around them, sunlight spilling across polished floors while Solaria Prime glittered beyond the glass. Somewhere below, transports drifted through the air between towers like glowing veins through the city. “She hates aliens,” Mingi said suddenly and Garus raised an eyebrow slightly. “That is meant to convince me?”
“She’s not trying to impress anyone. She doesn’t care who I am.”
“Which is exactly why you’re interested.”
Mingi opened his mouth then frowned because unfortunately his father was irritatingly correct. Garus folded his hands behind his back again. “You are the future emperor of this empire. Of this planet.”
“There’s that sentence again.”
“You cannot afford impulsive fascinations.”
“It’s a subordinate assignment, not a marriage proposal.”
The emperor gave him a long look at that. Because both of them knew Mingi rarely pursued things halfway. Finally Garus exhaled quietly through his nose. “Pick another.”
“No.”
“Mingi.”
“I already submitted the authorization request.”
“You did what?”
Mingi smiled slowly and suddenly Garus realized exactly why his son had arrived before sunrise. The emperor stared at him in disbelief for a full second. “You manipulative little….”
“It should already be processing through palace administration by now.”
Garus looked genuinely offended. “You went around me.”
“You were going to say no.”
“Yes!”
“Exactly.”
For a moment the office filled with silence. Then, somehow impossibly, Garus laughed once under his breath. Disbelieving and almost exhausted. “You are exactly your mother’s child.” Mingi grinned immediately. “I choose to take that as a compliment.” Garus shook his head slowly before glancing once more toward Y/N’s file glowing faintly across the datapad. Human. Lower district. Young. Pretty enough to immediately catch his son’s attention. This was a terrible idea. Which meant Mingi had already fully committed to it.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
Y/N stood in the tiny kitchenette of her apartment trying to convince herself stale caf and half burnt toast counted as breakfast while the old vent fan rattled overhead loud enough to sound medically concerning. Outside her window screen, the artificial skyline projection flickered twice before correcting itself again. Another perfect day in the underground.
She barely slept after the festival. Every time she closed her eyes she kept seeing silver blonde hair beneath lantern light and hearing, “What’s your name?” Annoying. Deeply annoying. She shoved the thought away aggressively while pulling on her work jacket. The underground already buzzed awake outside her apartment walls. Pipes groaned overhead while neighbors argued down the hall about water credits while somewhere nearby, music blasted faintly through thin metal walls.
Y/N grabbed her bag from the chair just as loud knocking suddenly rattled her front door hard enough to make her jump and for her stomach to tighten instantly. She frowned and crossed the room quickly before sliding the door open and froze. Two imperial guards stood in the hallway and everything inside her went cold immediately. Tall. Silver armored. One blue and one green. Royal insignias gleaming beneath the corridor lights. The entire apartment level had gone silent around them. Doors cracked open all down the hall while neighbors stared openly in shock.
Including Allara who stood halfway out of her own apartment looking seconds away from ascending directly into another dimension. “Oh my god,” she whispered and Y/N ignored her completely as the guards remained expressionless. “Y/N L/N,” one of them said formally and every instinct in her body screamed danger. “Yes?”
“You have been selected for appointment as subordinate staff to the imperial household.”
Y/N blinked once, brows furrowed and confused before shaking her head, scoffing. “No thanks.” Behind her, Allara made a choking sound but the guards didn’t react. “It is not optional.” Y/N stared at them. “What?” The blue guard stepped forward slightly holding a sleek dark datapad. “Per imperial selection authority, you are to be relocated immediately to upper sector royal residency under direct assignment.”
Y/N laughed once in disbelief. “You cannot be serious.” The blue guard continued calmly like she hadn’t spoken. “You have one hour to gather approved personal belongings before transport escort.”
“This is insane.”
“This is law.”
Y/N’s pulse started climbing fast now. “No. No, absolutely not.” She pointed vaguely toward the city above them. “I don’t want to go work for aliens in some giant palace.” Allara looked personally offended by that statement. The guards, meanwhile, remained infuriatingly calm. “Resistance to selection is considered obstruction of imperial process.”
Y/N folded her arms tightly. “So what, you’re kidnapping me politely?” Neither guard answered. Which honestly answered enough. The hallway had gone dead quiet now. Neighbors stared openly from cracked doors. Fear. Curiosity and jealousy. Some humans spent years hoping for selection because it meant escape from the underground. Y/N felt like she was being marched toward execution. Her mind raced immediately. Why her? How her…… Silver blonde hair. Sharp grin. Prince. “I’m sure you can find it.”
That absolute asshole. Her eyes narrowed instantly. Oh he did not. The guard extended the datapad toward her. “Please prepare accordingly.” Y/N snatched the tablet aggressively enough to make Allara flinch. Across the screen glowed imperial authorization codes beneath one line….
DIRECT SUBORDINATE ASSIGNMENT:
CROWN PRINCE MINGI
Her eye twitched as Allara finally lost control completely. “THE PRINCE?” Y/N looked ready to commit a crime. “That smug alien psycho.” One of the guards, the green one, cleared his throat lightly as if he were trying to cover a laugh. “You will address the Crown Prince respectfully.” Y/N looked him dead in the eye. “I’d rather throw myself into traffic.” The blue guard actually hesitated slightly at that. Probably because nobody ever spoke about royal bloodlines like this to their faces.
Allara rushed over immediately the second the guards stepped back down the corridor to allow Y/N time to pack. “Oh my god,” she hissed. “Oh my GOD.”
“This is not exciting.”
“This is literally life changing!”
“This is kidnapping with better lighting!”
Allara grabbed her shoulders dramatically. “The crown prince of the planet picked you personally!”
“I know!”
“How do you know?”
Y/N threw the datapad onto the cot. “Because I met him last night!” Allara stared at her before screaming. Y/N dragged both hands down her face in exhausted disbelief while outside her apartment the imperial guards stood motionless in the hallway waiting to escort her out of the underground forever and the underground suddenly felt different once Y/N knew she was leaving it. Smaller somehow. Temporary. Like every hallway and flickering light and rusted pipe had already started slipping away from her before she’d even gone.
The imperial guards waited outside her apartment while she shoved necessities into an old duffel bag with growing irritation. Clothes. Credit chips. Her grandfather’s old lighter she didn’t even use. A tiny photograph tucked into the side pocket. That was the worst part. They expected humans to just… leave. No warning. No choice. No understanding that people had lives down here. Allara followed her around the apartment practically vibrating with secondhand excitement while Y/N internally spiraled harder every minute.
“You have to take something nice to wear.”
“I own three jackets and a pair of boots.”
“Okay but now you’re going to the palace.”
“I’m going to prison with prettier architecture.”
Allara ignored that immediately. “Do you think he likes you already?” Y/N stopped packing long enough to stare at her in disbelief. “He met me for maybe six minutes and stared at my ass.”
“And?”
“And I insulted him repeatedly.”
“That means yes.”
“Please seek help.” But underneath the sarcasm, anxiety curled tighter and tighter in her chest. Not because of the palace. Not even because of Mingi. Because of San. The realization hit fully once she stepped out into the hallway carrying her bag and saw the guards straighten immediately beside the apartment door. Upper sector assignments were permanent more often than not. Humans selected for palace service rarely returned to the underground except under supervision. Everything suddenly felt too final.
Y/N barely remembered walking through the crowded tunnel streets after that. People stared at the guards escorting her openly. Some with envy. Some with pity. Word spread fast underground. By the time she reached the Choi repair shop, half the damn district probably already knew. The familiar flickering sign buzzed overhead as she pushed inside and the smell hit her immediately. Machine oil. Burnt wiring. Home. San looked up from behind the counter mid sentence while arguing with a customer. His eyes moved from her face… to the bag over her shoulder… to the two royal guards visible through the shop windows outside. The customer wisely decided this was no longer his business and left immediately.
Silence settled heavily through the shop as San slowly set his tools down. “No.” Y/N swallowed hard. That one word hurt worse than she expected. “San…”
“No.” His voice sharpened this time. “No. Tell me this is not what I think it is.” Y/N gripped the strap of her bag tighter. “I got selected.” San stared at her. Actually stared like maybe if he looked hard enough the words would rearrange themselves into something better. “The palace?” She nodded once. “When?”
“This morning.”
“And you’re just leaving?”
“I don’t exactly think the empire accepts scheduling conflicts.”
San swore under his breath violently before turning away from her completely and Y/N’s chest tightened. The shop suddenly felt too small now. Too warm. Every familiar thing inside it twisted painfully because she realized she didn’t know when she’d see any of it again. Or if she ever would. “They picked me specifically,” she admitted quietly and San turned back immediately. “What?”
“The prince.”
His expression darkened instantly. Realizing Mingi meeting her last night apparently wasn’t enough for the prince. San laughed once in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was.” For a second neither of them spoke again after that. Outside the shop, the underground continued moving like normal. Festival decorations still hung through the streets from yesterday while distant music echoed from somewhere deeper in the tunnels. Life continuing while hers suddenly tilted sideways. San dragged both hands through his hair roughly. “This is bad.”
“I know.”
“You can’t trust him.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know what he wants from you.”
“I KNOW.” The sharpness in her voice echoed briefly through the shop before silence crashed down again and Y/N exhaled shakily, looking away first. “That’s kind of the problem.” Because beneath all the anger and panic sat one terrifying truth…. she did know what this was really about. Or at least had feeling what it was. A prince got curious and now her entire life belonged to that curiosity.
San moved around the counter slowly until he stood directly in front of her. “You don’t have to let him change you.” The words caught her off guard as Y/N looked up at him finally. San’s expression had softened now beneath the frustration. Worried. Protective. Angry in the helpless way people got when something bigger than them made decisions anyway. “You’re acting like I’m leaving forever,” she muttered weakly.
San didn’t answer immediately. Which was answer enough. Her throat tightened painfully. The underground had always felt suffocating growing up. Loud and crowded and impossible to escape. Now suddenly the thought of leaving it made her chest ache. “I’ll come back,” she said quietly and San looked like he wanted to believe her. Instead he reached forward and pulled her into a tight hug hard enough to almost knock the breath from her lungs. Y/N closed her eyes immediately.
“You better,” he muttered against the top of her head as outside the repair shop, two imperial guards waited beneath the glowing lights of Solaria Prime’s underground ready to escort a human girl into the world above.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
Morning sunlight spilled through the massive windows of Mingi’s chambers in pale gold sheets, illuminating towering glass walls and polished black floors that reflected the skyline of Solaria Prime beyond them. Transport ships drifted silently between upper sector towers outside while somewhere far below, buried beneath layers of steel and imperial architecture, the underground city continued waking for another day beneath alien rule.
Inside the prince’s chambers, however, there was peace. Unusual peace. Which was exactly why Seonghwa immediately knew something was wrong. The doors slid open behind him with a soft hiss as he stepped inside carrying a datapad under one arm, already prepared for the usual disaster scene, Mingi unconscious, half dressed, probably hungover, and aggressively refusing to attend whatever political nightmare waited for him today. Instead…. Mingi was awake, dressed and lounging across one of the curved couches near the windows looking entirely too pleased with himself.
Seonghwa stopped walking immediately. That alone was alarming. Mingi wore loose black layers beneath an open hooded jacket, silver chains resting against exposed skin while white trousers contrasted sharply against the dark fabric. His hair fell messily into his eyes like he’d barely bothered fixing it after waking up, and sunlight caught the pale silver marking near his right eye every time he turned his head slightly. Worse than all of that though… he was smiling. Not fake public smile smiling. Actually smiling.
Seonghwa narrowed his eyes instantly. “What are you up to?” Mingi glanced up from the tablet in his hands lazily. “Good morning to you too.”
“You’re awake before noon.”
“Tragic, I know.”
“And dressed.”
“I usually wear clothes, Seonghwa.”
“You look,” Seonghwa said slowly, gesturing vaguely toward him, “like your father just informed you you no longer have to become emperor one day.” Mingi barked out a laugh at that. “That would actually improve my mood significantly.” Seonghwa walked further into the room carefully now, suspicion growing stronger the longer he looked at him. Mingi only got this relaxed after causing problems. Usually large ones. “You did something.”
“I do things constantly.”
“Mingi.”
The prince leaned back further into the couch cushions with zero shame whatsoever. “I’m offended by your lack of trust.”
“You once stole a council transport because you were bored.”
“In my defense, it was very boring.”
“You flew it into restricted airspace.”
“Allegedly.”
Seonghwa stared at him flatly as Mingi grinned. The problem with Mingi was that he rarely looked like someone carrying the weight of an empire on his shoulders. Even surrounded by luxury and royal expectations, he somehow moved through life like he was permanently one bad decision away from running off world for fun. Garus carried power heavily while Mingi carried it carelessly. And that terrified palace officials constantly.
Seonghwa set the datapad down onto a nearby table before crossing his arms. “Why do I suddenly feel like I should be concerned?”
“Maybe because you’re dramatic.”
“No. Because you’re in a suspiciously good mood.”
Mingi glanced back toward the skyline outside the windows, smile pulling faintly at one corner of his mouth again. The underground lantern lights from the night before flashed briefly through his mind, thinking about her, how much bite she through at him and his grin widened slightly and Seonghwa immediately caught it. “There it is,” he muttered. “That look.”
Mingi blinked innocently. “What look?”
“The one you get right before palace security has to apologize to someone.”
Mingi laughed softly under his breath before finally standing from the couch in one fluid movement. Tall. Effortlessly graceful. Entirely too aware of the effect he had on rooms without even trying. Royal bloodline genetics made most nobles striking but Mingi weaponized it accidentally just by existing. “You worry too much,” he said casually.
“You concern me too often.”
“Fair.”
Seonghwa eyed him another long second before sighing heavily. “Well whatever you’re planning,” he muttered, “I’d appreciate at least six hours before it becomes a diplomatic incident.” Mingi only smiled to himself again as he wandered toward the massive windows overlooking Solaria Prime while Seonghwa continued watching him with growing distrust. Outside, the capital stretched endlessly beneath the morning sun. Glass towers gleamed gold and white against the desert. From up here, the city looked perfect but Mingi knew better.
He leaned one shoulder lazily against the window frame, turning the tablet in his hands once. “I’ve got a new subordinate on the way.” That immediately got Seonghwa’s full attention. “You what?” Mingi glanced back over his shoulder casually. “New palace assignment.” Seonghwa frowned instantly. “You don’t do subordinates.”
“I absolutely do.”
“No,” Seonghwa corrected flatly, “you avoid them.” Which was true. Most members of the imperial family kept direct subordinate staff constantly. Assistants. Human attendants. Alien aides. People assigned specifically to manage schedules, social appearances, political communication. Mingi burned through them accidentally. Not because he was cruel but because he ignored structure entirely. The last subordinate assigned to him transferred departments after six months claiming the prince was organizationally catastrophic. Mingi still considered that dramatic.
“The last one you had was years ago,” Seonghwa continued suspiciously.
“Maybe I got lonely.”
“You don’t even answer your messages.”
“I answer important ones.”
“You left the southern delegates on read for twelve days.”
“They were annoying.”
Seonghwa dragged a hand down his face tiredly before narrowing his eyes again. “Why now?” Mingi shrugged lightly, though the grin threatening at the corner of his mouth immediately ruined the casual act and Seonghwa once again noticed. “Oh no.”
“What?”
“You’re smiling again.”
“That’s incredibly judgmental.”
“Why are you smiling?”
Mingi looked away toward the skyline again, trying and failing to suppress it entirely. Because honestly? He still couldn’t stop replaying last night in his head. The underground lights. The way she looked at him like royalty meant nothing. That sharp irritated voice. Stop staring at my ass. Mingi grinned again before he could stop himself and Seonghwa looked horrified as he put two and two together. “You met someone.”
“No I didn’t.”
“You absolutely met someone.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Then why do you look like this?”
Mingi finally laughed softly under his breath, pushing himself away from the windows. “She insulted me like six times in maybe ten minutes.” Seonghwa blinked looking almost flabbergasted. “Excuse me?”
“And threatened to throw herself into traffic rather than speak respectfully to guards that went to retrieve her I have been told.”
Now Seonghwa looked genuinely confused. “Who is this person?”
“A human.”
“Oh this is a terrible idea.”
Mingi barked out another laugh immediately. “You don’t even know the idea yet.”
“I know enough.”
“She’s interesting.”
“That sentence alone is concerning.”
Mingi dropped back onto the couch lazily, one arm thrown across the back cushions while sunlight cut sharply across his black clothing and pale hair. “She hates aliens,” he admitted.
“Most humans do.”
“She really hates aliens.”
“That still isn’t helping.”
Mingi tilted his head slightly, remembering the way she looked at him in the alley. Not afraid. Just annoyed. Like he was just another problem standing in her way instead of the future emperor of Earth. No one had ever treated him like that before. “It’s weird,” he admitted quietly. “She doesn’t care who I am.” Seonghwa stared at him a long moment before he sighed heavily. “Oh you’re doomed.”
Mingi snorted softly. “Relax. It’s a subordinate assignment, not a bonding ceremony.”
“Mhm.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“You’re the crown prince getting emotionally invested in a human woman from the underground after one conversation.”
Mingi immediately pointed at him. “First of all, emotionally invested is a crazy accusation.”
“You are going to give your father stress related organ failure.”
“He’ll survive.”
“And the human?”
That question settled differently. Mingi’s grin faded slightly for the first time all morning. Because beneath all the curiosity and amusement… he did know this would change her life completely. “She’ll probably hate me for it,” he admitted as Seonghwa folded his arms. “Will that stop you?” Mingi looked toward the towering city beyond the windows again. Somewhere down there, she was probably furious right now. Good. He liked that about her. “No,” he said honestly.
And somehow that answer worried Seonghwa more than anything else.
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