[Memory Archive Store (Current Balance: 200 Yang)

  Cost: 300 Yang - Quick Recall: search memories from past life archive for a specific, short snippet of information

  Cost: 2000 Yang - Re-watch: enter and view a specific archive memory in detail

  Cost: 5000 Yang - Paused Memory: enter a specific archive memory and freeze it ]

  “500 Yang, precisely where I left them,” Mi-Reu murmured, the heavy wooden drawer sliding shut with a satisfying click. She had double-checked the hidden compartment where her New Year’s savings were stashed and the system.

  Gi-Reu, currently sprawled out on a silk floor cushion while lazily flipping through a historical text, nodded without looking up. “So, our hypothesis was correct. The System truly only registers the currency you subconsciously believe is yours to use.”

  “If that is the case,” Gi-Reu said, finally closing his book and shifting his focus to her, “taking those 500 Yang and handing them back to yourself won't work. It won't re-calculate the sum as 'new' money that can be spent again. The System isn't easily fooled by physical loops.”

  Mi-Reu nodded in agreement as she spread a fresh scroll across her low writing table. She took a bamboo brush, carefully dipping the fine bristles into a stone inkwell until they were saturated with dark, midnight-black ink. “That seems to be the exact mechanic. It bypasses my physical surroundings and reads my deep subconscious to determine my available 'buying power.'”

  Gi-Reu watched with a faint, amused smile as Mi-Reu began to write. Despite her brilliant mind, she still struggled with the brush, her strokes occasionally jerky as she fought against the muscle memory of the ballpoint pens from her previous life.

  “That aside,” Gi-Reu said, his voice dropping an octave as his expression turned uncharacteristically somber. “We need to address what you discovered during that Quick Recall.”

  Before Mi-Reu could offer a defensive retort, he pressed on. “I know what you said, that it might be about the far-distant future. But still, sister… are you truly fine with that possibility? The thought of our home being razed, our culture erased, and our people being invaded by a foreign power?”

  “I told you, Gi-Reu… we simply don't have enough information,” Mi-Reu replied, her hand hesitating over the parchment.

  “I know,” Gi-Reu said, standing up and setting his book aside with a firm thud. “I’m just saying we shouldn’t wait for it to happen. We should prioritize earning more money to purchase the Re-watch or Paused Memory functions! We need to see the details, the dates, and the faces. If we have the full picture, we can prevent it!”

  The air in the room grew heavy with the weight of their secret burden. However, the silence was shattered by a formal announcement from the hallway. The sliding doors moved aside with a smooth rustle.

  “And what, pray tell, is it that needs to be prevented so urgently?”

  Crown Prince Yi-Joon stepped fully into the room, his regal presence filling the space as he looked between his two youngest siblings with an expression of amused curiosity. The twins froze, the air in the room suddenly thick with the tension of their hidden secret.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Th... The Famine!” Gi-Reu stammered, his mind racing as he scrambled to find a believable cover. He stood up quickly, trying to look as innocent as an eight-year-old could while discussing the collapse of a dynasty.

  “Yes, yes! The famine!” Mi-Reu added hastily, bobbing her head in frantic agreement. “We were just discussing how to prevent the hunger from returning next year!”

  “You two are far too young to be burdening your minds with the weight of the realm’s troubles,” Crown Yi-Joon said, his voice softening with affection. He walked over and patted their heads, a gesture of both comfort and dismissal. He paced slowly around the room, his eyes scanning the various scrolls and books scattered about. “Just because you were of immense help to the kingdom this time doesn't mean the Royal Court is suddenly depending on children to manage the state.”

  He paused, offering them a reassuring, protective smile. “The adults will take care of the heavy matters. You two should focus on your studies and, perhaps, being children for a while longer.”

  Crown Prince Yi-Joon turned toward the door, his ceremonial robes rustling with the movement. He waved a hand beckoningly at the twins. “Well, let’s go then?”

  Gi-Reu blinked, his confusion replacing his panic. “Go where, Brother?”

  Mi-Reu climbed to her feet, brushing off her skirt, equally puzzled.

  “What do you mean, 'where'?” Crown Prince Yi-Joon asked, his eyes dancing with a mischievous glint that was rarely seen in the presence of the King. “To prank Father, of course! I believe I gave you my word that I would help with that.”

  The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. The dread of the future was momentarily shoved aside by the infectious thrill of royal mischief. Both twins broke into wide, matching grins, their fatigue forgotten.

  “Yes! Let’s go!” they shouted in unison, rushing toward their older brother.

  The moon hung high over the palace, casting long, silvery shadows across the corridors as the three siblings moved with practiced stealth. Crown Prince Yi-Joon, usually the paragon of royal decorum, led the way, his finger pressed firmly to his lips. He had promised them this opportunity back when the Ming Envoy’s were here, and he was not a man to break his word.

  They bypassed the main entrance, where the armored guards stood like statues, and slipped through a narrow service passage used by the servants. Crown Prince Yi-Joon pressed a hidden latch on a decorative wall panel, and with a faint, oiled click, it swung inward to reveal the King’s private study.

  The air inside was thick with the scent of aged parchment, sandalwood incense, and the faint, sweet aroma of medicinal tea. King Jin-Ho sat slumped in his high-backed chair behind a desk cluttered with maps and reports. His head was tilted back, his rhythmic snoring the only sound in the oppressive silence.

  "He fell asleep reviewing the grain logistics," Crown Prince Yi-Joon whispered, his eyes sparkling with rare mischief. "Now, we must be quick. If he wakes, I will claim I was simply bringing you for a late-night lesson in administration."

  Mi-Reu looked around the room, her eyes landing on the King's formal calligraphy set. "The ink," she mouthed to Gi-Reu.

  Gi-Reu, understanding her intent instantly, grabbed a small dish of dried vermilion, the bright red pigment usually reserved for the King’s official seal. While Mi-Reu carefully mixed it with a bit of water to create a vibrant, staining paste, Gi-Reu searched for a tool. He found a long, delicate peacock feather used for dusting the King's collection of jade.

  With held breaths, they approached the sleeping monarch. Mi-Reu dipped the tip of the feather into the red paste. With the un-steady hand, she began to paint small, intricate "cat whiskers" onto the King's cheeks, while Gi-Reu added a tiny, red circular dot to the tip of his nose.

  King Jin-Ho let out a particularly loud snort and shifted in his seat. The three children froze, hearts hammering against their ribs. Crown Prince Yi-Joon’s hand went to the hilt of his ceremonial books, ready to play the part of the dutiful son if discovered. After a tense moment, the King’s breathing leveled out again.

  "One more thing," Gi-Reu whispered. He took a small piece of parchment and wrote in bold characters: 'The Thousand-Year Tortoise says: Pay your taxes on time!'

  Gi-Reu stuck it to King Jin-Ho’s forehead slowly. Crown Prince Yi-Joon stifled a laugh behind his hand, motioning for them to retreat. They slipped back through the hidden door just as a night-watchman’s lantern flickered in the distance. As they reached the safety of the outer gardens, the three royal siblings collapsed into a fit of hushed, triumphant giggles.