Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It’s a young girl this time.

She can’t have been more than eighteen and the way she looks at Sunoo with such desperation makes her appear much younger, except the said child had just tried to slit his throat a few seconds ago.

He looks over her carefully, thrashing even as she’s pinned to the floor by Heeseung and two other guards.

“Do we need three grown men to hold down one kid?” he asks the room and receives no response.

It had been the middle of the night and he had just changed into his pajamas when the assailant showed herself. Apparently, she’d been hiding in the ceiling and waiting for him for god knows how long. He’d just gotten back from a week-long trip in Tibet; she could have been there for days.

When the silence stretches, Sunoo huffs. “Yeah, I know that was a shitty thing to say on my part, but she’ll literally die of asphyxiation before we can question her if you keep doing that.”

Still, no one moves. Not even Heeseung. Sunoo gives him a truly magnificent, patronizing smile. “I won’t repeat myself.” 

They bound the girl’s hands and feet, leaving her squirming on the floor like a worm, but the moment the guards lift their weights off her, she lunges for him one last time before getting knocked out. Sunoo doesn’t seem bothered at the display and only stares at her under his nose until the guards take her away.

He visits her cell after two days. She had refused to talk, had refused to eat, or even drink, and at this point, she’ll be dead before they can extract any information. 

In retrospect, it’s smart of Heeseung to advise him against visiting her. Even imprisoned and starving, there is no telling what she can do. Alas, it’s advice that was ignored and Jungwon ends up walking Sunoo to the basement cells.

How many times has it been since the first attempt? Because Sunoo is quickly becoming desensitized to how frequently this happens. However, this is the first time they sent a literal child.

He sees the chains first before realizing they’re connected to the girl’s wrists and feet. Jungwon shrugs without being questioned. 

“She’s crazy,” he simply explains. “She bit me and then Heeseung as well–”

“Close the door and leave,” Sunoo cuts him off. 

Jungwon appears to disagree but eventually concedes. “Fine.” He mock-bows at him and shuts the door. 

Sunoo stares at the girl in front of him. 

“I’m Sunoo,” he says after a while and offers her his hand. Predictably, she doesn’t respond and only scoots further away.

“They said you won’t talk,” he continues, unfazed by the disregard. “Well, little miss, you’ve got some luck on you; I’m probably the only person here who is willing to help you.” 

This appears to be the right thing to say. The girl raises her head and looks at him suspiciously. She has a confusing mixture of features that makes it hard to tell if she looks beautiful or deranged: her hair is midnight black and silky but dirt clogs almost permanently underneath her short-trimmed nails; she has long lashes, and down-turned eyes that appear gentle, only countered by blue bruise-like shadows underneath her eye circles. 

Sunoo wonders what a young lady who didn’t even know how to hold a knife properly is doing here. The youth of this day are so obsessed with trusting people they shouldn’t that if some tyrant promised them safety in return for killing a person, they would probably accept. They need to open their eyes and keep the government in check.

He walks to the table at the side of the room and takes the glass of water from her untouched tray of food. He returns and offers it to her. When she doesn’t move to take the glass, Sunoo pushes it into her hands. 

“Drink.”

He sees her throat bobbing, obviously tempted. 

“It’s not poisoned,” he tells her and takes a sip himself.

The girl watches him with furrowed brows. After what felt like forever, she slowly accepts the offered glass and presses it against her parched lips. She drinks with gusto, thirsty beyond compare.

Once done, she looks down at the glass in her hands, tracing the condensation with her thumb. “They have my sister.”

“What’s your name?”

She looks up at Sunoo again, this time confused.

“Name,” Sunoo repeats.

“Areum,” she answers in a small voice. “They have my sister,” she says once more. “They said I have to kill you to save her.”

“Areum-ssi.”

“She’s waiting for me.”

“Even if you managed to kill me, do you really think you can go back to your home?” he asks her, softening his voice. “If you fail, they will kill you and then her. And if you succeed, they will let us kill you and they will give us your sister too. Either way, you're going to lose.”

Sunoo thinks she probably knows that. She doesn’t give the impression of being dumb, only desperate, and often, desperation leads to stupid decisions. Her lips merely part, like she’s about to talk. The moment stretches out between them, thin and taut. 

“They sent a pawn to kill a king,” he tells her. “Think about what that means for you.”

As he speaks, he keeps his gaze on the glass in her hands. There’s a hairline crack running down the side, he realizes. It’s fine enough that she can’t see it, but his thumbnail had caught on it earlier and he can tell it’s there. The kind of flaw that’s invisible until you get close enough to touch. 

“Look, sweetling. I know who sent you,” he reveals. He takes the empty glass from her and sets it down on the floor. “I also know that you didn’t have a choice. But now I’m giving you one.” 

He tugs at the chain around her wrists and from his pocket, he procures a key. “If you choose to be freed, only your sister dies. And if you choose to remain here,” he closes his hand around the key, hiding it. “Only you will die. You have my word.”

He holds her gaze.

“You decide now.”

“So, have you talked to her?” Jungwon slides up next to him as he leaves the building and does nothing to disguise his interest as if the room wasn’t tapped and he was listening to their conversation the entire time.

“Yes,” Sunoo answers, squinting at his phone. Jaeyun’s been sending him messages non-stop after learning about the assassination attempt. The sky is a dark mandarin orange over their heads as they walk back to his office. It should be around three in the morning from where his brother is right now, attending state business in his name, and definitely not the time to be sending him frantic messages. He feels the bite of guilt nibbling at his insides for not responding as soon as possible. He types out a quick message, reassuring him that he is fine and that no, Jaeyun doesn’t need to book the earliest flight home and that he will see him soon. 

He pockets his phone. “The girl will have his sister back,” he says. 

Jungwon hums. “I didn’t accompany you there to make promises.”

“The girl would rather die than cooperate. And if she dies, we’ll be in trouble. ”

“People won’t care. She tried to kill you.”

Sunoo halts and faces him, expression stony. “She’s a kid.”

Jungwon doesn’t say that he was a kid too, younger than she was when he made his choice. He doesn’t say it, but Sunoo hears it in his silence.

“Just take the car tonight and ensure that she reaches the safe house,” he orders instead. “Make sure it’s guarded.”

“And the sister?”

“Leave that to me.”

Jungwon levels him a stare. 

“You can’t keep letting these people get away,” he says. “They all tried to kill you. In fact, some of them came close. I hope you know what you're doing.”

“Politics,” Sunoo explains vaguely. “Tip the media about this. I want it on the news pronto.”

Jungwon frowns but holds his tongue. 

Sunoo bites back a faint sigh. “Just take her and go.”

The Queen is Dead.

The phrase sounded final. Solid. The end of an era. There was little comfort there but to those who wanted to see the silver lining, it had been believing it was the worst and that it could not worsen any further. 

Entire cities had stopped - a silence like a fall of snow, holding the country and the world in a moment of grim reflection, reducing all to a leveled pause.

Following the state funeral, national days of mourning were observed, flags were flown at half-mast and a mood of solemnity abided for weeks. But five years after the unexpected death, there are signs of recovery from the nation.

“That’s Yoon-samchon for you,” the current king of Hanguk tells the journalist, folding his legs casually. “If he can’t swim, he blames the water.”

However, for Kim Sunoo, there had been no time to mourn; there was a wounded kingdom to hold together. He had left the capital as a prince but returned as a king, drowning in the thick embroidered robes that were still too heavy for him to bear.

Looking at him now, it’s hard to tell. He is dressed down, his hair unstyled as this is meant to just be a written interview, and it flops into his eyes when he ducks his head. His smile is still as breathtaking as it was the first time anyone had seen it on the day he was presented as the crown prince – young and kind. But he is neither young nor kind now, as former minister Yoon could testify. He served the Queen for almost two decades but it could be said that his loyalty to her didn’t extend fully to her son. 

The criticism had been that the crown prince wasn’t ready and that they were putting the fate of the nation into a schoolboy’s hands. At the age of twenty-one, Kim Sunoo became the youngest King in the world. Make no mistake now, though, for the years have hardened not only his judgment but also his heart.

“I fired him not because he doesn’t like me,” the king says. “I fired him because he is incompetent and spends more time selling my personal information than actually doing his job.”

This, of course, pertains to the attempt on his life last week, when a young girl of questionable background, managed to bypass the palace’s security and attacked him. Following the incident, investigations revealed that it was former minster Yoon that caused the break-in by selling private information to far-right parties. He’s fired from the office and arrested immediately despite having a long alliance with the royal house and even being one of the king’s godfathers. 

It may seem cold, but the king is clear with his boundaries. Before his coronation, though, Kim Sunoo had a reputation for being the nice one. He cultivated a persona of a sweet-natured boy dutifully carrying his family’s mantle. 

Now, he seems vastly different.

“I always was that person, really,” he points out. “I never expected to be anyone else.”

A puzzling statement that warrants further explanation.

“You see, responsibility changes people,” he clarifies. “I always felt a bit old for my age, and then suddenly I'm supposed to hold court, working alongside adults who are all more experienced than I am. It’s a really strange, unique position to be in - where you have no choice over what your duties are.”

The usual philosophy has it that heavy is the head that wears the crown. Power comes with the burden of carrying it and this often exposes a person for what they truly are. The journalist tells him as much.

“No, not power,” he says instead. “That would be my mother’s death.”

Not far from where they are seated, the ceremonial robes hang on its stand, red silk adorned with emblems, all embroidered in gold, representing the authority and virtues of the monarchy. It seems daunting to wear such a thing, makes one appear beyond invincible, untouchable.

To thousands, this is the country's symbol, of peace that was hard fought and won. Nowadays, that symbol is a slim, dark-haired man in his mid-twenties, seemingly still on the cusp of adulthood. 

Perhaps, it’s hard to see him as anything other than his mother’s child. People of their parent’s generation still sometimes choke up when they talk about Queen Sunhye because she had been the face of the new era; born in the hellish fires of the war, she was the rose that grew from the ashes of the people’s sacrifice. She made Hanguk a little bit bigger and a little bit brighter for everyone. Most are humbled to have grown up under her reign.

But often, extreme prosperity forebodes the beginning of the decline. Some think that Hanguk must be cursed to always be robbed of great kings and queens before their due.

The journalist asks Kim Sunoo what it was like to try filling in such big shoes. It must have been bittersweet to be told ‘congratulations on your coronation,’ given the circumstances. 

His eyes are on the robes for a minute or two. The journalist offers to skip the question, but he refuses. Apparently, there is no problem – except there obviously is. Eventually, he answers. 

“I’m nothing particularly special – there are others out there who are far smarter, far kinder, and far better than I am. But by an accident of birth, I was given a name that has the ability to help people, and I was given a mother who taught me about the responsibility to use it. What pains me the worst, though, is that she isn’t here to see any of them.”

How aware was he of the significance of what had happened to his mother? After all, he was only twenty-one back then, the view to becoming king should have been a long way off that age.

“I wasn't daunted by the responsibilities that my role creates. These are challenges that I was raised to bear but far from those expectations, the scariest thing was the speculations, the rumors, because my mother doesn’t deserve to be treated like a mystery to be solved. Her passing was so controversial in the sense that the media were everywhere. It had been a tragic story that everybody wanted to dip their fingers in.” 

He pauses. “And so, it was… it was isolating, but it was also a situation where you couldn't indulge in feeling sorry for yourself: you had to either sink or swim. You had to learn that very fast, and I was very aware of that.”

Rumors were prevalent in the earlier years of his reign. Somehow, it circulated that the car the queen was riding that day was meant for the crown prince, to attend an event he couldn’t go to due to reasons that were never publicly disclosed. 

“Yeah,” says Kim Sunoo. “People have their own versions of that incident.”

Everyone wanted to write about the Queen’s passing but not everyone bothered to write about the truth. It was all about what story will sell the most and with the murder of Chosŏn’s youngest prince at that time, allegedly in the hands of his older brother, whose own mother died in a similar car crash, people couldn’t help but speculate. 

With these throngs of events, the affairs of the royalty were rather mythic. They’ve written and rewritten their stories so many times that they almost belong to fiction rather than to reality. To this day, even Kim Sunoo remained unmarried and with no heir.

Something prompts the journalist to ask about it.

“I do have an heir.”

Since his coronation, that position astutely belongs to his brother, Prince Jaeyun.

“Yes and no,” he admits. “I can’t say more about it for security reasons but there is certainly a person I’d like our people to meet someday.”

A new heir could only hint at one thing: marriage. 

The king laughs at this. “No, not at all. I can’t give myself to someone like that,” he replies. “I once had to beg someone to stay with me and that’s the saddest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

Only one person known in history could have drawn those words out of Kim Sunoo’s mouth. 

The palace’s publicist gave the journalist a speaking look, but she already saw an opening to ask about Chosŏn’s most hated man. 

Kim Sunoo is silent for a longer time. A tall, slender man has been watching the entire proceeding from the sidelines, and now moves toward them slightly, as if he wants to hover, but the king waves him away. 

There’s a buzz in the room.

Of course, people are curious – especially when someone caught sight of the man’s face. 

“That’s Lee Heeseung,” someone whispers. “He’s, like, the commander of the Kingsguard.” 

Apparently, Lee Heeseung is somewhat of a known figure. If you are in a thousand press photos with Kim Sunoo, you’d be vaguely recognizable too. 

Lee Heeseung goes back to his station and whispers to the publicist, which will no doubt be reaching the journalist’s boss once this is over. After all, she went off the script.

“I didn’t love Sunghoon for a long time – that was all for show.”

This confession hits rather hard. The love story of Kim Sunoo and Park Sunghoon is a staple drama in Hanguk and Chosŏn’s recent years. Their union was meant to cement peace between the two kingdoms. It was the fairy tale that everyone wanted but alas ended in tragedy. 

Ironically enough, it had been the same tragedy that brought Sunoo much closer to his people. Mourning and heartbroken, he was in no shape to lead a nation, yet he stood tall and carried the weight of his responsibilities with grace. Through that, he proved to his people that he is deserving of their support – this young boy they’d all watched grow up into a man.

“I wanted to strangle him most of the time but he grew on me, you know, like a fungus. Still, Sunghoon and I had our duties to perform, and that was paramount. I did love him though, eventually,” he adds kindly as if to restore everyone’s worldview. “More than I thought I would, but he made his choice.”

It took guts but since they were already on the topic, it was easier to ask her next question. 

The Asian Summit is the highest policy-making body in the continent and the selected venue this year is the capital of Chosŏn, Suncho. It’s a city that is familiar as much as it is vetoed by the House Kim, even more so now that King Kwangho has not made any public appearance ever since the uprising. Queen Regent Ansun’s seat is looking more and more permanent by the day, which poses the big question, will the king of Hanguk be attending?

His answer comes as easily as the morning breeze. “I can’t think of a better way to reunite with my almost-in-laws.”

And out it comes.

The journalist wants to press for more and the king’s eyes have taken on a challenging sheen, as though he meant to bait her into asking, knowing full well that she already signed an NDA regarding foreign politics. 

She sits up straight and turns off her recorder. In the room, there’s a commotion but the king merely relaxes in his seat. 

“Off the record…” she starts. “Do you harbor any malice towards the House Park? Rumor has it that they are related to your mother’s death.”  

Hook, line, sinker.

It’s sad to say that he has more faith in a young journalist finding justice than the system itself.

“Do I believe they were directly involved?” He shakes his head. “No. But do I believe that a campaign was being waged against my family when she died? Yes,” he says. “She and King Kwangho wanted a truce. An absolute immunity, whether for past war crimes or disputes over territories. To start over with a clean slate, so to speak. I was going to marry their heir and to the people against that, I was a problem, full stop. Never happened before, what do we do with him? They thought I was in that car. It’s not hard to connect the dots.”

As the summit is inevitable, there is a discussion about how matters between him and the ruling house of Chosŏn will be resolved. For the longest time, Chosŏn nobilities insisted that he knew where Park Sunghoon was hiding. 

“We don't want more conflict, but obviously, we need clarity on situations that have been of enormous discussion over the last few years. That being said, even if I do know where Sunghoon is, and I don’t, what makes them think I will tell them?” 

There are many reasons. For starters, helping them catch Sunghoon would give the impression of the two countries being united. That in itself will help iron out disagreements since Chosŏn still seeks justice for Prince Riki. 

“Justice,” the king muses. “Someone’s idea of justice is two dead mothers.”

People might think - some people might interpret this refusal as him simply taking the opportunity to get his own back on Chosŏn.

The king tilts his head, ever so slightly. “I don't sit here with resentment,” he says. “I sit here with regret, with sadness because of the things we’ve lost. I sit here with hope because there's a future ahead, a future that my mother believed in. She passed on to me a unique role, and yes, I've had difficulties, as everybody has witnessed over the years, but I’d rather use the knowledge I've gathered to help my people.”

Does he think he can?

“I know I can.”

He then leans forward, a small movement that causes the entire room to still, every eye watching as he turns the recorder back on. 

For a short while, there is only silence. 

He leans back on his chair with a polite smile. It’s a request to move things along, or maybe a warning. It’s hard to tell. If the journalist is surprised, she doesn’t show any indication. She clears her throat lightly.

Why has he decided to give this interview now? Why has he decided to speak at this time?

“Because it will have been five years since my mother’s passing,” he explains. “And the perception that has been given of that incident for the last five years has been very confusing, turbulent, and in some areas, I'm sure many, many people doubt its nature. I want to reassure all those people who loved her and supported me that I’d never let them down. That standing by the truth is a priority to me, along with my duties.”

She nods, about to ask him another question when the publicist signals her to wrap it up. Her face falls, just a fraction, and then only purses her lips.

“I see. Well, we thank you for your time, Pyeha,” she says, for want of anything better to say, and pulls a painfully rehearsed smile. “Lastly, why don’t we end this on a brighter note by telling us what’s the best part about being in your position?" 

Kim Sunoo doesn’t miss a beat. “You mean aside from the food?” 

Sparse laughter travels around the room and just like that, the serious atmosphere breaks, and everyone breathed a little easier.

“It will always be helping people," the king says like he’s insisted on it before.

"And the hardest part?" 

At this, he sort of hesitates before giving her another smile. All his fire from earlier seems to have burnt out. His eyes, crinkle. Mouth, stretched but not too much–just enough to get the eyes alive. Voice, soft. Then he admits, "Not being able to help everyone." 

His smile breaks and dies on his face. And that’s when it struck her, like a blade to the heart. It’s tempting to see someone like the king as infallible, as untouchable. You don’t want to see them as people, because it takes the sheen off. However, with everything that happened, didn’t the world already take so much from him to still be considered untouchable?

Personally, she thinks that the royal family, if it is to stay royal, should be an example of happiness to the country. If their duty makes them miserable, they may as well be a republic. Still, the world and its investment in the prolonged existence of Kim Sunoo is something she will never fully come to grips with, but judging from the unwavering interest of the public, it will always be evident.

“Did you hear?”

“At this point, who hasn’t?”

“Not attending the summit will make us look weak. Although, it will definitely please those Chosŏn dogs.”

“What’s new? I’ve seen rats with more honor than them.”

At this time of the day, the royal grounds are still and silent, but they know better than to think that the world is at peace. The palace wouldn't be having second thoughts about sending their king to Suncho if things were truly as peaceful as everyone seems to want them to think. 

“My relatives in Baekdu said their military set up camp near the village. As protection from rebels, they said. Protection, my ass. We all know it’s a territorial dispute. They’ve always wanted Baekdu back.”

“I mean, if they could kill their own kin, what’s stopping them from doing worse?”

“We live in a world where a crime isn't considered a crime if the crime is being committed by the Parks.”

“Meanwhile, we’re stuck here playing nice because our king doesn’t want anything to do with them.”

“Dangun’s hell, I wish it’s up to us. I wish they would just let the war happen. When it comes down to it, we all know who‘s gonna win.” 

“My, my.” A voice suddenly pipes up behind them. “How inspiring.”

The two men jump in surprise and whip around, just in time to see Yang Jungwon raising both of his hands to clap. 

They both pale and stand in attention, backs ramrod straight you could have heard their joints snapping into place. “Sir, we, uh, we were just–”

“Now, no need to be so nervous,” he tells them, now squeezing between the two and casually putting his arms around their shoulders. They’re so tense, Jungwon can tell. “It’s only me.”

Except being only him is the problem.

There isn’t a single soul who inspires to rise into Hanguk’s ranks that hasn’t heard of the name Yang Jungwon. It is known in the palace how the king came to appoint Yang Jungwon as a royal advisor, even going as far as being accused of having an affair with him, stood public opinion, and incorporated him into the palace force. As he is Chosŏn-born of relegated family lineage, some had criticized the king as absurd on this matter. His accomplishments in court, though, were undeniable and any critical voice soon fell silent.

Over the years, he became known for exposing corrupt officials with indisputable evidence that landed them straight in jail. No one seemed to escape his radar, as though he can purge guilty, selfish monsters with everything to lose out of hiding. 

Dig a hole deep in the vineyard and out comes the bad growth and the weed, but Yang Jungwon didn’t just pull out weeds, he had set the entire yard on fire. 

“I’m sure our illustrious leader would be happy to know he has such passionate subjects. I mean, sure, it almost sounds like you’re plotting a rebellion but who in their right mind would plunge a perfectly peaceful country into war just to fulfill their self-righteous fantasies? Right?”

When none of them answer, Jungwon’s smile widens and he repeats, “Right?”

“O-of course, sir.”

Jungwon beams. “I understand your sentiment, you know,” he says, almost sounding apologetic, but he still hasn’t let go of them. “You came here eager to prove yourselves. Justice, patriotism, and all that. I used to be just like you guys.” 

He leans in to whisper, “But as someone who’s never been good at anything but getting my hands dirty – let me tell you this. Wars can come to us, and we can fight to end them.” His grip on their shoulders tightens and the two men swallow. 

“But nothing’s ever worth starting one.”

He eventually pulls away, much to the men’s relief, and he watches as they mutter quick apologies before scampering off like children, which, evidently, they still very much are. 

“Stop scaring my recruits.”

At the voice, Jungwon rolls his eyes. “Only when they start growing spines.” 

He turns to see Lee Heeseung’s unimpressed face, not a hair out of place, arms crossed like it’s his life-long mission to judge Jungwon while looking immaculately put together. To be fair, that’s an easy feat considering Jungwon’s track record of defying every dress code protocol.

“It seems to me that your recruits didn’t learn anything in class about war.”

Heeseung, now used to Jungwon’s version of a greeting, merely levels him with a blasé expression. He doesn’t need to say anything. Jungwon would do the talking for the two of them. Better let him run his fuse instead of arguing - he learned that the hard way.

“They’re not wrong, you know,” Jungwon ends up saying. “He has to attend the summit or people will talk.”

Heeseung’s expression doesn’t change. “People always talk.”

“Well, his interview last morning will definitely get people talkin’ for a while.”

“I think that was the point,” Heeseung explains and walks in the direction of the king’s quarters. Jungwon falls into step with him. “It’s a distraction, so people forget where the real problems are.”

Jungwon tilts his head. “Baekdu?”

“North wants it back.”

“It’s a boundary town but still in Hanguk.”

Heeseung nods. “Doesn’t stop them from moving forces there. We’ve been receiving complaints about it. The people are scared.”

“Any plans to evacuate?” Jungwon asks, remembering the last time they were there was during the search for Sunghoon. 

Turning a corner, Heeseung acknowledges the guards stationed at the king’s door.

“None. If we give in to their provocations now…” He knocks on the door. “What’s to stop them from doing it somewhere else?”

The door opens and in they go.

Only to find Jaeyun behind the desk, the king nowhere in sight.

Heeseung sighs. “Where is he?” he asks tiredly, already feeling a headache coming. 

Sunoo has undoubtedly grown into a remarkable leader over the years but a wilder side to him also grew alongside his newfound position. Of course, it isn't a crime for him to run away from his residence. And even if it were, given Sunoo’s status, they couldn't exactly stick him in jail and throw away the key. 

Jungwon once reasoned that the king can’t always be a boy who listens, which Heeseung utterly despised since it encourages the behavior and anyway, Jungwon has no right to lecture him since he might have had a hand in these escapades. Heeseung can’t just prove it yet. 

Jaeyun only offers them a sympathetic smile. Clearly, he isn’t bothered with being saddled by the king’s paperwork while his little brother is off gallivanting around the palace grounds. “Taehyun wanted to learn how to drive,” he offers.

“Taehyun is ten.”

“I was nine when I did,” Jungwon chimes in.

Jaeyun frowns in reproach, but he could almost just be confused. “Is that even legal?” 

Jungwon shrugs. “No one stopped me.” 

“…Okay.” 

“Jeoha,” Heeseung interjects, and only he can make a royal title sound so disapproving. “Where is he, please?”

“Oh, sorry,” Jaeyun says, and he seems torn, but he knew Heeseung well, and Sunoo even better. The guilt on his face morphs into concern. “Sunoo took him to the stables,” he admits eventually. “Better a horse than the Rolls Royce?”

Jungwon smirks at that, in awe, or maybe it’s disbelief. Kids are like that. They get all the fun, and you get all the trouble.

Heeseung breathes in and then out. Patience, patience, Jungwon could almost hear him chanting and then he marches out of the room.

“Don’t get mad at him when you see him!” Jaeyun yells, as politely as he could while raising his voice. “He’s going through something!”

“He’s putting me through something,” Heeseung mutters darkly, starting down the stairs. 

Quick as lightning, always putting the king’s best interest first — that has always been his way of doing things. It would have been more admirable if it isn’t so repetitive. Jungwon would never.

As though reading his mind, Jaeyun turns to him, “Still not regretting getting out of here when you had the chance?”

Jungwon scoffs, ready to snark. “I’m already paying my taxes, might as well see where they go.”

“My brother signs your paycheck. My brother is also the government. Your tax just goes back to your pocket.”

Jungwon stares at him glumly. “You say such nice things.”

"It’s one of my many talents," Jaeyun replies cheekily, and when he does this, Jungwon can see that he and Sunoo are definitely brothers. “Oh, this is for you, by the way.”

He retrieves an envelope from one of the stacks of papers on the table. It has the seal of Chaengdeok.

“I failed to intercept it at the post,” he explains. “I might have used Taehyun to distract Sunoo before he could spot it on his table.” 

He hands it out to Jungwon, who then tenses a little upon catching sight of the seal. Still, he walks over and accepts the letter.

“Are you certain?” he asks, running a thumb over the symbol.

“It’s been five years,” Jaeyun says in lieu of answering. He doesn’t prompt Jungwon to open it, and perhaps he doesn’t have to. After all, there is only one reason this particular sender would write to them. “It’s about time.”

“With all due respect, Pyeha, you’re unbelievable.”

From where he’s leaning against the fences, Sunoo grins at his oldest friend. He’s been watching Taehyun on top of his old steed, Palgang, while being guided by an instructor. It’s only been an hour. He thought they’d at least have a couple before Heeseung finds them.

“See, I’ve been informed that I have a lot of personality traits that are unbelievable. To which are you specifically referring, Commander?”

Heeseung is too dignified to roll his eyes, so he ignores the question and stands next to him. 

“You’re aware that someone had just tried to kill you last week and you still didn’t take any guards.”

“Eh, they won’t send another one that soon. Give it a month, at least.”

“This is no laughing matter.”

“I’m not laughing,” Sunoo says, eyes wild and unblinking. 

Sometimes, it feels like the purpose of Heeseung’s life is just to serve as a warning to Sunoo. He shakes his head.

“You can’t keep dumping your paperwork on your brother just because they’re boring,” he tells him instead.

“In my defense, Jaehyun-hyung offered.”

“Right. And the interview this morning is totally unrelated?”

“I don’t know what Jungwon told you but he’s lying.”

“I know most of those documents are from Chosŏn.”

“I already said I’m attending the summit.”

“You do need to sign them before you can go.”

“Why? Will they kick me out if I show up unannounced?”

“Pyeha.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

“Sunoo, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“When the king sneezes, the rest of the country catches a cold. Of course, I have to go.”

“Send a representative, then.”

Sunoo removes himself from the fence and looks at Heeseung. “It’s the principle of it,” he says. “The people need to see that we’re over the past. If I don’t go, if I look uncomfortable or troubled or god forbid, weak, everyone’s going to notice. The people want to see confidence – well, actually, they want to see weakness, which is why I’ll give them confidence. It’s not about me not wanting to go. It’s politics, and traps are everywhere.”

“It might not be safe,” Heeseung tells him.

“But it will be best.”

Heeseung shoots him a disapproving look and catches the clench of Sunoo’s jaw. 

He doesn’t quite sigh, but the sentiment is there in the way he just accepts that this is going to happen whether he likes it or not.

“All right. But Jungwon and I are coming with you.”

“Nonsense,” Sunoo denies flippantly. “I need you here to protect the little gremlin. Jungwon grew up in Suncho, he’s the sensible choice.”

“I’m the commander of your kingsguard, not him.”

“Hence, you must protect my heir.”

There’s a rather sour silence.

“I am not asking, Commander Lee.”

It’s acid in Heeseung’s ears, the words. Tall orders, with hardly any emotion behind them. But Heeseung could feel it. Because it feels like everything he’s been dreading all at once. 

Sunoo doesn’t mention what happened in Kumihoro much. Heeseung wonders whose sanity he’s trying to preserve by keeping it burrowed within.

When Sunoo stepped into that boat in Baekdu, he remembers thinking Sunoo’s really quite something.

Oh, but now, what’s changed? Sunoo’s still something, but is he something different? Not quite. The same, maybe, just a little more than he used to be. Maybe nothing’s changed about Sunoo at all - maybe Heeseung’s the one who’s changed; because now Heeseung looks at Sunoo, and rather than pride and protectiveness, he only feels worry and aching like mud in his throat.

He can still recall, vividly, the cold forest and Sunoo’s quick-but-firm shot at the tiger. He remembers the way Sunoo fought with Sunghoon in that room and the edge of his voice of fear. He remembers the day they buried Queen Sunhye and how Sunoo didn’t shed a single tear. Then, again, when Taehyun arrived at the palace, avoiding him in the first week because distance made it easier to make decisions about someone else’s life.

It all adds up to the same thing: Sunoo’s gotten the cruelty of someone who’s been hurt and is forced to cope. 

There are times when this Sunoo beats him into numbness. Made him stay there, like a dog outside in the rain. Too afraid to get close.

It’s never been easy, disappointing the king. For Heeseung, it only gets more and more difficult with each passing day.

“As you wish,” he says, finally.

That appears to be the right thing to say. Sunoo gives him a small smile, the kind that unfurls slowly and breaks open, spreading to his whole face like the light of a sunrise. It’s almost easy to pretend that nothing is amiss.

“But you still have to sign those papers,” he adds, even just to have an illusion of normality.

“Fine, fine,” Sunoo says, waving a hand. “I’ll read them later.”

Perhaps, Sunoo’s just gotten better at hiding his emotions. Maybe he’s gotten the hang of showing people exactly what they want to see. Maybe he’s found a way to care for his wounds without reopening them.

Heeseung has a feeling this isn’t all, though. Whatever this is, it lies deep within Sunoo, and only him.

They watch Taehyun trying his best to move Palgang forward, which consists of a lot of glaring and strategically concealed whining because that child is not going to be caught begging anyone if he can help it. Palgang is too loyal to Sunoo, though. He might have to do better than pretend he knows what he’s doing. 

“So, what do you think?” Sunoo asks, eyes still on the kid and his horse. “The future of Hanguk.”

A year ago, Kang Taehyun, the only son of Sunoo’s eldest sister, started living at the palace to begin his preparatory education as the king’s possible successor. It’s not official yet, evident with how he is still using his birth father’s surname, but Sunoo can see that once he’s old enough for the title, he’ll be using Kim's family name in no time.

Heeseung considered his next words. “He’s just a kid,” he says frankly.

Sunoo makes a disappointed noise. “Do you know what turns a child into a bad kid, Commander Lee?” he asks, “The doubt of adults.”

“You’re barely an adult yourself.”

Sunoo laughs, a little more genuinely this time. “Just last night, he handed me a spreadsheet of my approval ratings, segregated by regions and age groups, complete with graphs that highlight where I’m lacking. Forget the doubt of adults, the doubt of a single kid will overthrow me someday.”

To cope, Sunoo sent his sister a link to a Spotify playlist called songs for when your nephew plans to dethrone you. She had only replied with a thumbs-up emoji. Princess Yunjin was the first of Queen Sunhye’s children to get married and moved out of the palace thereafter. Regrettably, she was also the first in their family to get a divorce, but that is a story for another day. 

your trust in me to keep your firstborn safe is honestly worrisome, Sunoo had replied. 

Funny. Taehyunie said something similar about you, is the elusive reply he got. 

Which, knowing Taehyun, is more likely than a snowstorm in December. Even at such a young age, the child has shown an aptitude for leadership, and it really isn’t helping that he is rather vocal about his ambition to be king someday, a fact that both impresses and mortifies Sunoo to no end. He is only ten, he shouldn’t be talking about matters like that for at least another decade. 

“I believe in the kid, but I wish he’d just play with legos than nitpick legislature—”

He was cut off when a frantic voice shouted, “Daegam!”

Sunoo felt his heart drop.

The horse suddenly took off with Taehyun clinging onto its neck and the display would have been so traumatizing for anyone watching had the cries not turned into shrieks of delight.

Still, that made little difference to Sunoo who already hopped over the fence and placed himself in the middle of Palgang’s route. The horse immediately slowed down upon seeing its owner, allowing Sunoo to reign it to a stop.

“Kang Taehyun,” he scolds in a steely voice, plucking the child from the horse’s back and setting him down on the ground. A caretaker quickly escorts Palgang back to the stables, avoiding the confrontation that is sure to come. “You might not plan on dying here, but you can still lose your limbs.”

“Impossible,” the child says with petulance only a ten-year-old can wield. “The horse's center of gravity is closer to its front, by the head, which is where I’m increasing the friction to keep a good riding posture. I was merely surprised by Palgang’s speed.” The child crosses his arms. “I had it under control, Pyeha.”

Sunoo gives Taehyun a wry look. He just says what he wants, the little gremlin, because he knows he’s got the face mothers would trust. 

“The only thing under control there was you almost being squished under a thousand tons of muscles. It’s not rocket science, Taehyun-ah.”

“See, that’s a misconception. Rocket science isn’t actually that difficult once we–”

Without preamble, Sunoo kneels and hugs the child close, promptly cutting him off. Taehyun blinks, puzzled, and looks over to Heeseung as if to ask what the hell is going on. 

He tries to be as chill as possible, but seriously, the commander is so cool. Sometimes, Taehyun can't decide if he wants to be him or be as far away as possible from him, but earning his possibly begrudging approval, even if it meant being thrown from the king’s horse because he wanted to impress him, will be, like, the highlight of his short existence.

“Mother said people hug someone when they are in distress,” he says distractedly. “Are you in… distress, Pyeha?”

“Oh, very,” Sunoo replies, still partly upset but also just glad Taehyun didn’t hurt himself. His nephew is so brilliant, often too brilliant, that he worries if there’s space left in that brilliant mind of his for something as trivial as self-preservation.

In response, the child lifts a hand and pats Sunoo on the back, like he is the one who almost fell off a horse. 

“There, there,” he says awkwardly, a bewildered expression marring his tiny face that reminds Heeseung of Sunoo when they were younger.

Sunoo stifles a laugh but when he draws back, his expression is serious because he knows Taehyun responds better to formality. 

“Thank you. Now…” He brushes the dust off his knees and stands. “I’m afraid I have to cut our adventures short. Duty calls,” he says. “However, since Commander Lee is the culprit for monopolizing my time, he will be monitoring your lessons from now on! He is a far better rider than I am, anyway.” 

Taehyun doesn’t say anything, but his eyes visibly widen and really, Sunoo would be blind to not see the blatant idolization of the young heir to his very own commander. He’d be more offended that he isn’t the apple of Taehyun’s eyes had he not felt the same admiration for Heeseung once upon a time. That feels like such a long time ago.

So, to Heeseung, he only says, “This is non-negotiable.”

He thinks Heeseung only agrees because he already accomplished his goal here: to make the king do his paperwork. 

“Don’t cause any international incidents and keep an eye on him,” Sunoo adds. “He goes feral at horse riding, as you can see. You might think I’m joking, but I am absolutely not."

“I’m spirited,” Taehyun corrects.

“Feral,” Sunoo calls back dryly. He looks back at Heeseung. “Take care of him for me.”

Heeseung bows, ever dutiful. “Always.”

The palace’s PR team isn’t being subtle when they left a stack of newspapers on the Royal Suite cabin table. 

“This is just from this morning,” Jungwon says. “I don’t think I need to remind you it’s barely five.”

Sunoo stares down at the headlines in front of him.

BATTLE ROYALE: A tense reunion is expected at the Asian Summit

PALACE FORCES KING TO GO

In-laws to spark another Hanguk-Chosŏn War?

Each is accompanied by a mix of his photos and some old pictures from a certain engagement announcement years ago. Sunoo’s eyes don’t linger on those.

“This will suck,” Jungwon is saying. “They need you to make nice with the old lady when you get there.”

“I’m always nice with old ladies,” Sunoo attempts. “I like old ladies. Old ladies love me.”

“Pyeha, I can’t express to you how much I don’t give a shit what you actually think of the Queen Regent,” Jungwon goes on. “As the person you chose to come with you, I’m obligated to get you home in one piece with your reputation intact, but as a taxpayer of your country, whom you know hates this type of thing, all I want is to throw you off this plane. Do you know how expensive the budget for this trip is?”

“See, this is why I chose you to come with me,” Sunoo says, fiddling with his crooked tie. “You’re the fun one.”

“And you’re a brat,” Jungwon scoffs, prying the king’s hand off his tie and fixing it for him. “This is why your whole court is convinced that I’m the secret lover you drag around every country you visit. I know for a fact that they burn straw dolls with my name on it.”

“As if you don’t enjoy using those rumors to your advantage.”

“Please. If you want to make those rumors come true,” Jungwon tightens the knot, almost choking him. “Just let me know.” 

Sunoo only huffs, feigning indignation, and pushes his advisor away. He smoothens out any creases or slack in the tie’s knot. Not that he needed to, Jungwon did it perfectly, of course. They surely have come a long way. From Jungwon handing him a gun on the shores of Kumihoro to now being a trusted advisor, fixing his tie forty-thousand feet above the ground.

Satisfied with his work, Jungwon pulls out a small tablet from his jacket. 

“Now, pay attention. We have an hour before we land. Once we do, you’ll be greeted by some officials and they will be your new best friends,” Jungwon says pointedly. “You will smile and nod and not piss anyone. Don’t even think of sneaking out, you have an interview with a news outlet in the afternoon – we’ve arranged for a photo call at the studio. Lastly, it’s dinner with your host and then you’ll be free for the rest of the evening. You’ll be staying in the guest quarters at Chaengdeok–”

“About that,” Sunoo interrupts. Jungwon eyes him warily but still waits for him to continue. “I’d like to stay in the same room I stayed in last time I was there.”

“...Right,” Jungwon says dully. “The quarters of who-shall-not-be-named. That room?”

Sunoo glances at the newspapers on the table. “Ah, but they mention him plenty, don’t they?”

“He’s taboo in Chosŏn, so no. But you’re the king, I suppose they can make an exception,” Jungwon says. He is pleased to see a little bit of ice in Sunoo’s voice, at least. The indifference slipping. 

When Sunoo only nods and proceeds to stare outside the plane window, Jungwon puts down his tablet and taps the table to get Sunoo’s attention. 

“Look, I’m not Heeseung,” he begins. “I bite the hand that feeds me. If the grass is greener on the other side, I’d dump kerosene over the fence.”

Yang Jungwon isn't bragging or pompous. He's not necessarily proud of what people think of him. He’s been called many things - a spy, a traitor, a power-hungry opportunist. He understands their significance and wears the badge, but it's heavy. He isn't just capable. He's been living with the consequences ever since.

“If you order me to leave you alone, I will. I’m gonna let you stew in whatever resentment you have but under one condition: in public, do your job. And I will, too. I won’t meddle with your affairs behind closed doors so long as it doesn’t end with your body in a bag.” 

Sunoo blinks at him. 

“Is that clear to you, Pyeha?”

Sunoo grins at him sweetly. “Crystal.” 

Jungwon hums, not thoroughly convinced but content enough with his answer.

The first impression Yang Jungwon leaves on most people is that he is blunt and dangerous - the total opposite of his appearance, which makes him rather off-putting to be around, but at the same time, makes him a far more honest companion than most of the company Sunoo has. 

Ironically, this spitfire attitude is what eventually landed him the position as one of Sunoo’s advisors. In a succession shrouded with uncertainty, an outsider’s point of view had helped him keep his head clear. He won’t say this out loud, though.

An hour later, the wheels of the plane hit the ground. The tarmac is hot and even with a carpet laid upon it, Sunoo can feel the heat of the ground. He shakes hands and smiles and makes small talk, turning up his charms. They work well. 

Regardless of political background, everybody wants to please a king, especially sleazy, grey-haired men in suits who eye Sunoo like he’s dessert. This is fine as it’s usually in his favor to be underestimated. 

The drive to Chaengdeok is quiet. Sunoo eyes the sparse crowd on the sidewalks as the car drives by, nowhere near the volume of people he saw last time. The streets of Suncho are much quieter than he remembered. There are not many activities either. Closed shophouses, no merchants, and not even kids playing around. The city feels empty, somehow. When he voiced this out, Jungwon said it was probably because the summit is being held in the capital, so they cleaned up the city a bit. 

As someone in his position, he understands. But still, he finds it a shame – cleaning the city up, as if the beauty of Suncho is not in its colorful culture and people, not in its raw, hardscrabble charm. 

As if showing something for what they are is a bad thing.

In contrast, Chaengdeok didn’t change at all. Even the room of their former crown prince is well-kept despite being persona non grata. It’s clear of any personal items now, but most of the furniture remains. 

Sunoo steps inside the familiar room, taking in his surroundings with measured steps. It’s an uncomfortable sort of familiarity, like visiting his parents’ quarters after a couple of years and seeing that his father has rearranged everything, and his memories don’t match up anymore.

“You have an hour before lunch,” Jungwon says, five steps behind. “Rest up a bit. It’s going to be a long day.”

He is about to leave the room when Sunoo suddenly asks, “Does your sister still work in the palace?”

Jungwon lingers by the doorway and doesn’t answer right away. In fact, Sunoo’s not expecting him to. 

“Yeah,” Jungwon says, eventually, “she does.” 

He doesn’t elaborate and Sunoo only nods before dismissing him.

As expected, the day does end up being one of the longest days Sunoo has ever had. He is tired - the kind of deep-down bone-tired that he got after hours of socializing and way too much smiling. His skin feels tight and inflexible - from the dry high-altitude air, the constant application and re-touching of makeup, and not getting enough sleep the day prior. Still, some meetings have been fruitful. He may have been criticized over his government's lack of focus on climate change but he also walked out of a few doors with new supporters for labor rights, plans to join mass movements, and potential contracts for a better healthcare system. 

Dinner arrives with little to no fanfare. After changing to much more comfortable but not any less bespoke clothes, he’s escorted to the Queen Regent’s quarters. 

There’s something to be said about the way Jungwon is hovering much closer than he normally does, his eyes sharp and on the lookout for any suspicious movement. Sometimes, Sunoo forgets that Jungwon was a soldier once. 

Not long after, they arrive at a private dining hall. Seeing that there are only two chairs, one already occupied, it’s obvious that this is not a dinner for all of the summit attendees, but rather the opposite of what Sunoo was led to believe. At the end of the table sits a woman Sunoo has only seen a handful of times and yet her influence on his life has reached far beyond what a stranger is supposed to touch.

She doesn’t appear to have aged, hair still gunmetal silver and tucked into a neat bun. Her eyes pierced through the space between them, the distance not muddling their intensity.

“Kim Sunoo-ssi,” the Queen Regent Ansun greets, and he notes the lack of title in the way she addressed him. Sunoo is not a stickler for rules but somehow, it means entirely different when it comes from her. “It’s been so long since we were granted the joy of your presence.” She eyes Jungwon at his right. “Along with a familiar face.”

Jungwon didn’t think she’d acknowledge him, not that it mattered now. It truly has been so long but clearly, not long enough to merit a greeting upon their arrival. He only bows wordlessly and walks to stand on Sunoo’s left, by the wall.

Similarly, Sunoo doesn’t wait to be offered a seat and pulls out the chair himself. He sits without breaking eye contact, as though she’d pull the rug under his feet if he did. 

They stare at each other for a while.

“It is late, but I am truly sorry for your loss,” she says eventually, “and for the dishonor my stupid grandson brought you, too.”

She’s good at this, of course, pouring gasoline into an open fire. Sunoo remembers witnessing a scene so similar, back when he genuinely believed that everything would work out, but they can’t hide fire with a piece of an engagement paper now.

“Our families really got bad luck with cars, don’t we?” 

The cover-up is always worse than the crime. The damage to their families is nothing that can be manipulated and repaired, but it had sent a strong message to those who knew the truth: Ansun’s ruling had begun in blood, and it must end in blood. 

Sunoo’s anger turns white. He tightens his fists, mouth setting into a line as he tries not to cry with rage, his nails digging into the soft flesh of his palms. Palms that have never quite worked, aren’t quite calloused, protected by his family name for so long. The true testament of a royal son never having to harm and mar himself to survive. Just getting to exist. To get through. Sunoo has been a glass child unlike Sunghoon, but not on the inside, not anymore. On the inside, he is injured, hurt, and scabbed over after losing people who loved him. 

“For what it’s worth, you make a fine king. Your mother must be proud of you.”

Sunoo masks everything with a tilt of his head. He doesn’t say that while his mother had been proud, she also used to say he had the consistency of porridge. Soft, weak, drizzled in honey. He knows what outsiders have whispered beyond their tall walls and iron doors. The Queen is dead. They’ve lost their protector. Now is our time to strike. Young Sunoo is seen as a weakness, and Sunoo himself will gouge that little boy from his heart like pus from a sore.

“Our people are strong,” he says instead. “It’s all thanks to their efforts that we stand stronger than ever.”

Lady Ansun - no, it’s Queen Ansun now - Sunoo’s mind supplies, offers him a tepid smile. He wonders what she thinks about that. After all, this is a woman who has always relied on political power more than compassion in order to wield power. 

“I didn’t realize I was important enough,” he continues, “to land a private dinner with Chosŏn’s great ruler.”

“I do not rule, as you well know. I am a mere steward of the king's will,” she corrects him. “He ordered me to treat you well,” she adds proudly as though she wasn’t the one who drove King Kwangho out of the throne. 

“Hmm,” Sunoo nods, accepting the lie in that. “Is it also the king’s will to see me dead?”

Queen Ansun only smiles again, fake as everything else she’d shown the moment he stepped into this room.

Their conversation is brought to a standstill when the food arrives. Each is presented with several plates by mute servers and for a while, only the sound of utensils cutting through meat and the clinking of glasses is heard. 

“I heard you caught something of ours,” Queen Ansun tells him after some time, just after dessert was served - berry mousse cake with fresh Suncho berries, so red the syrup on top almost looks like blood. It’s what Chosŏn had sent for his parents’ thirtieth wedding anniversary party. Sunoo wonders if this is on purpose, too. “We will be indebted to you if you can give it back.”

Finally, Sunoo thinks. He is getting tired of playing house. “Do I look like a nice boy who will give you things?”

This seems to amuse her and although she doesn’t quite smile, her eyes crinkle. “Compared to your mother, yes.”

Sunoo puts his fork down, swallowing down the sour taste on his tongue. He must keep himself from snapping if she mentions Sunhye again. 

“Crimes that are committed within our territory shall be judged in accordance with our laws. I am not obligated to hand over a suspect to anyone.”

“She will stand in court, is what you’re saying,” Queen Ansun surmises. 

Sunoo nods. “If she chooses to plead her case, then yes, she will be granted the chance to defend herself.” 

“Against such offense?” she questions it with such disbelief that it almost deceived Sunoo. “Surely, threatening the king’s life doesn’t deserve a radicalized notion.”

“With all due respect, it’s not radicalized. All of my country’s political views are just extrapolations of the most basic premises of human decency. A just legal system is not in any way radical. I figured that one out when I was seven years old.” And then he adds, as though he forgot, “Daebi-mama.”

But because Ansun is so self-absorbed, she can’t feel shame like a healthy person could. 

“As I said,” she repeats, pertaining to Sunoo’s words, “...radical.” Her voice is bored, as though she has no idea what he is implying. Knowing her, Sunoo is completely sure she does.

The servers come back to take the dirty dishes. Once the table is cleared, they’re left alone once more. The silence this time is far more stifling, tense, but Sunoo only revels in it.  

“I know there’s something else you want from me,” he says, cutting through the quiet. “Unless you have something to hide, why care about what the girl will say once she testifies?”

The relationship between Hanguk and Chosŏn is already on thin ice. On top of Sunghoon’s estrangement and Sunhye’s death, this information becoming public could also put things at risk.

Ansun’s face dims, only for a split second before it’s gone, and Sunoo gets the sense that he said something right. The way she acts innocent, like her victims, just never gets old.

“You give us the girl and we’ll withdraw the forces in Baekdu,” she says at last.

Sunoo knows his own face is as impassive as hers. “You give the girl her sister back, remove your people from Baekdu, and only then, we’ll withdraw the trial.”

“Agreed,” Ansun concedes. “So long as we can send the sister in pieces.”

The situation stands on the edge of a precipice. 

Sunoo had understood at an early age that most people in power have red in their ledgers, that in order for them to stay in command, they’d have to kill parts of themselves to survive. Not long ago, Sunoo have been a witness to this himself, right at the moment when he had to shoot that tiger, and wondered if by pulling the trigger, he had already killed a part of himself, too. 

Perhaps, he is only beginning to understand how she thinks, which would have bothered him more had it been the past, but not anymore, not when he can use that same cruelty to get what he wants. 

“It doesn’t matter how, so long as you send her back,” he agrees, matching her unfeeling tone. If Sunoo truly believes anything deep down, though, it’s that being straightforward is the best answer to most issues.

For the first time, Queen Ansun sends him a genuine smile. 

They don’t shake hands, but it sure feels like it.

“You need to stop letting that woman mess with your head,” says Jungwon as they walk back to their quarters. “She’s more cunning than you think.”

Sunoo ignores him and walks ahead. Once the door to his room closes, he whips around to face Jungwon, who, predictably, has followed him inside. 

“Do you think I don’t know these people?” he asks. “I’m not looking at this from the outside. What is their goal? Who’s working with her? Who needs her support?”

Jungwon’s eyes narrow. “These are very powerful people you’re talking about.”

“They are,” he says, loosening his tie. “And so am I.”

Despite the tiring affairs of the day, Sunoo finds himself awake at midnight. There are trusted guards stationed by his door and Jungwon himself is staying in the next room; he should feel secured already, but as the night deepens, so as his unease.

Giving up, he abandons sleep and stands, walking around the room until he settles on studying the wall behind the bed—all-natural wood paneling. He notices a tapestry on the right side and walks over there to see what is behind it. Upon closer inspection, he sees a thin seam underneath the cloth, the panel a tiny bit thicker and there’s a patch that is almost imperceptibly lighter. He leans in and feels a faint draft. 

Bingo. Sunoo touches the discolored patch and pushes. He hears the sound of gears grinding as the wood panel slides open, revealing a dark tunnel. There is a whistle of wind coming from it, sending a strange shiver down his spine.

Jongseong didn’t lie then, he thinks, recalling the story of how he and Sunghoon escaped the night Riki died, of a hidden passage in the crown prince’s room that leads to a safe path out of the palace grounds. 

Upon remembering, the room is suddenly too stuffy and his skin is too tight and he can feel his pulse hammering just beneath it, half-tempted to claw himself apart just to make some room. It’s an unpleasant feeling, whatever it is. He needs to get out of here, somehow.

Sunoo takes his phone out of his pocket, sets it on silent mode, and turns on its flashlight. The path before him looks endless even as he points light to it. There is no room for hesitation as he takes a step forward and starts walking. The air is earthy and musty, mixed with a smell unique to weathered wood. This is still unfamiliar territory, and Sunoo hates not knowing what to expect.

He soon discovers that his worry is unfounded.

At the end of the path is a door camouflaged with a curtain of vines. He is outside of the palace grounds… or so he thought. He looks around, vaguely recognizing it as the garden he once walked with Sunghoon. It’s dark but there are lanterns around, bathing the pebbled pathway in muted gold. What gave it away, though, is the two-story library that stands on the high ground and commands a fine view of a pond. They call it the royal forest if he remembers correctly. 

Not wanting to go back yet, Sunoo decides to take a stroll. Of course, this is asking to be gutted like a fish by Jungwon if he ever finds out. Alas, there are worse crimes to commit and so, Sunoo carries on with little care. 

In hindsight, Sunoo should have listened to the voice at the back of his head that strangely sounds like Heeseung, turn back, it beckons. The sooner you sleep, the sooner you can go home.

The roll of pebbles ahead of him is the only warning Sunoo gets.

There, across the pond, is a silhouette of a person. He feels a sense of déjà vu.

His pulse ramps up. 

No.

The person is skipping pebbles on the pond, unaware of their visitor. The lights of the lanterns are too low, too dim, to fully make out the face but Sunoo still feels an emotion so visceral, so violent, it tears away at his chest, threatening to gnaw at the flesh covering his bones.

It can’t be.

Sunoo closes their distance, and still, the person doesn’t turn to him, too preoccupied with their task at hand. Sunoo swallows and barely makes a sound. When the wind blows, the lantern flames are disturbed but rise again, a movement of resistance… a symbol of remembrance and mourning.

Suddenly, all the time they’ve spent together comes back to him and it fuels something in Sunoo, something he pretended didn’t exist, a protectiveness that is capable of many terrible things.

Impossible.

Finally, the person turns in his direction, a single pebble in their hand.

For a moment, they just stare at each other. They stare until it gets uncomfortable and Sunoo has to bite a cry. 

Black hair curls below their ears, to the nape of their neck, eyes a startling shade of midnight. Their mouth is agape in awe, looking scared but also curious, cheeks reddened and dotted by the reflection of the light against the water, the boyhood still not completely lost on their face. 

He looks so different, but also the same. Sunoo remembers.

And it makes Sunoo sick.

“Riki?” he mutters, so lowly he doesn’t think the other heard.

Eyes widening, the boy throws his pebble to the ground and runs away.