Sisters in the Royal Court
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 7: The Game Begins
Historical Sex Story: Chapter 7: The Game Begins - A story of two sisters who both became consorts to the same Joseon prince, both elevated beyond their station, both genuinely loved by a man who chose them for who they were. One brilliant and brief. One quiet and enduring. Both essential to the tapestry of a family built from loss.
Caution: This Historical Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Romantic Oriental Male Oriental Female
1481-1483: Ages 14-16 (Jiwon) and 16-18 (Hyeon)
The confession in the bathing chamber changed everything and nothing.
They had admitted their feelings—quietly, carefully, in whispers that couldn’t be taken back. But they had also agreed to wait. To be patient. To let time and propriety work in their favor.
Which meant the next few years became an exquisite torture of proximity without consummation, awareness without action, desire held carefully in check.
Or at least, that’s what it was supposed to be.
Hyeon, it turned out, had other ideas.
Late 1481 - Jiwon age 14, Hyeon age 16
It started innocently enough.
Jiwon was arranging his writing materials one morning, her back to him as she organized brushes and ink stones with practiced precision. She heard him enter but didn’t turn—he often came and went while she worked.
Then she felt it: a quick pinch on her backside.
She yelped and spun around, finding Hyeon standing there with an expression of perfect innocence.
“Your Highness!”
“Yes?” His eyes were dancing with suppressed laughter.
“Did you just—”
“Just what, Jiwon? I simply walked past you.”
But the smirk tugging at his mouth gave him away.
“That was completely inappropriate, Your Highness!”
“Was it? I don’t recall doing anything inappropriate. Perhaps you imagined it.”
She stared at him, heat flooding her face—partly from indignation, partly from something else entirely. “I did not imagine—”
“You should focus on your work,” he said mildly, moving to his desk. “You seem distracted this morning.”
She wanted to argue, to scold him properly, but he had already opened a text and was apparently absorbed in reading. As if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just touched her in a way that was absolutely, definitely improper.
Jiwon turned back to her work, her heart racing.
He’s testing me, she realized. Seeing how I’ll react.
Well. Two could play that game.
The next day, she was prepared.
When Hyeon reached for the tea she’d prepared, leaning close enough that she could smell the clean scent of him, his hand “accidentally” brushed against her breast.
“Oops,” he said, not sounding apologetic at all.
Jiwon’s hand jerked, and tea splashed directly into his lap.
He yelped, jumping up from his cushion. “Jiwon!”
“Oh, my apologies, Your Highness.” Her voice was perfectly innocent. “You startled me. I’ll fetch a cloth immediately.”
She returned with a cloth and handed it to him—not offering to help clean up, because that would be far too dangerous. He glared at her while dabbing at his robes.
“That was deliberate.”
“I assure you, Your Highness, it was purely accidental. You startled me by reaching so suddenly.”
“I barely touched you.”
“Exactly, Your Highness. You touched me. Quite inappropriately. And it startled me.” She kept her expression bland. “Perhaps Your Highness should be more careful in the future.”
He stared at her, and she could see the moment he realized she’d retaliated intentionally. His eyes widened, then narrowed, then—to her surprise—he started laughing.
“You dumped tea on me on purpose.”
“I would never, Your Highness.”
“You absolutely did.”
“The tea was simply water, Your Highness. Cooled. I would never actually burn you.” She allowed herself a small smile. “I’m not cruel.”
He laughed harder. “Just vengeful.”
“Just protective of my person, Your Highness.”
“Fair enough.” He set down the wet cloth, still grinning. “I suppose I deserved that.”
“You absolutely did, Your Highness.”
Their eyes met, and something electric passed between them. He had tested her boundaries. She had pushed back. And instead of anger or awkwardness, there was this—playfulness, challenge, a new kind of intimacy.
“I’ll remember this,” he said.
“As will I, Your Highness.”
The game had begun.
1482 - Jiwon age 15, Hyeon age 17
Over the following months, their interactions developed a rhythm—teasing and retaliation, boundary-testing and boundary-defending, all wrapped in a veneer of proper service.
He would “accidentally” touch her while she worked—a hand on her waist as he moved past, fingers lingering on hers when she handed him something, a pinch or grab when she was focused on a task.
She would retaliate—water in his lap, “accidentally” elbowing him when he got too close, slapping his hand away with enough force to sting.
“Your Highness should learn to keep his hands to himself,” she would say primly.
“You should learn to be less distracting,” he would counter.
“I’m simply doing my duties, Your Highness.”
“Exactly. Distractingly.”
It was absurd. Improper. Completely inappropriate for a prince and his servant.
And she loved every minute of it.
Because underneath the playfulness was something deeper—he was pursuing her, showing his attraction in the only ways he could while they waited. And she was responding, showing that she noticed, that she felt it too, even while maintaining some semblance of propriety.
They were courting each other in secret, right under the palace’s nose.
But Jiwon also had her pride.
She wasn’t going to make this easy for him. She wasn’t going to simply surrender to his advances, no matter how much her body responded to his touch. He would have to work for it. He would have to prove that this wasn’t just teenage lust, but something real.
So when he pinched her, she slapped his hand away—hard.
When he grabbed her breast while she was leaning over to arrange something, she not only dumped water on him but also gave him a withering look that made him actually blush.
“Your Highness is behaving like a child,” she told him once, after a particularly bold grab.
“I’m seventeen. I’m allowed to be childish occasionally.”
“Your Highness is a prince. You should have more dignity.”
“Where’s the fun in dignity?”
She tried to stay stern, but his grin was infectious. “Your Highness is impossible.”
“And you’re beautiful when you’re angry.”
The compliment caught her off guard. He’d never said anything so direct before. She felt heat flood her face.
“Your Highness shouldn’t say such things.”
“Why not? It’s true.” He stepped closer, his expression turning serious. “You are beautiful, Jiwon. Surely you know that.”
Her breath caught. “I ... Your Highness...”
“Say my name,” he said quietly. “When we’re alone. Just once.”
“I can’t. It’s not proper.”
“Nothing we’re doing is proper.” He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear—a gesture so tender it made her chest ache. “But I don’t care about proper anymore. I care about you.”
She should step back. Should maintain distance. Should remember all the reasons this was dangerous.
Instead, she whispered, “Hyeon.”
His name, without the title. Just his name.
His eyes darkened. “Again.”
“Hyeon.”
He leaned in, and for a moment she thought he might kiss her. Her heart hammered, her lips parted slightly—
Then voices echoed in the corridor outside, and they both jumped apart.
Jiwon quickly busied herself with arranging items that didn’t need arranging, her hands trembling. Hyeon returned to his desk, picking up a text at random and staring at it without actually reading.
The moment had passed. But the memory of it lingered, electric and promising.
Not yet, Jiwon thought. We’re not ready yet. But soon.
The Internal Struggle
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