Under The Moon ( ) Kim Namjoon ()

under the moon (달 아래) — kim namjoon (김남준)

this is part two, part one can be found here

✧.* 18+

the moment you bolted from the palace, the weight of what had just transpired pressed heavily on your chest, propelling your legs to move faster. your breath came in ragged gasps as you dashed through the corridors and out into the open, the grandiose walls of the palace growing smaller in the distance. each step you took felt like a desperate plea to escape the nightmare that was now your reality. the announcement that king taejo intended to make you his wife had echoed in your mind like a cruel taunt, and you could hardly breathe under the suffocating thought.

as the grand gates of the palace loomed ahead, your legs burned with exhaustion, but you couldn't stop. you wouldn't stop. not until you reached hansol. not until you found safety. the only thing that mattered was putting as much distance between you and the throne room as possible. the cool night air stung your lungs, the world around you a blur of shadow and dim lantern light as you sprinted through the palace grounds.

news of the marriage swept through the palace like wildfire, sparking outrage, disbelief, and determination in equal measure among the princes. hansol was the first to react, eyes wide with shock as he blurted out, “is it true? this can’t be happening.” his voice wavered with a mix of denial and fear, the thought of you being taken away by the king unbearable to him.

baekhyun, his eyes distraught and panicked, whined, “there must be a mistake! something has to be done!” his usual playful demeanor was nowhere to be found, replaced by genuine concern. daniel furrowed his brows, his expression darkening with anger. “we need to act,” he muttered, his voice low but resolute. “we can’t just stand by and let this happen.”

across the room, chaehee let out a scoff, crossing his arms over his chest. “this is none of our concern,” he sneered, dismissing the growing tension among his brothers. his words were like a slap to the face, cold and unfeeling. but before anyone could react, hansol snapped, “shut up, chaehee,” the force of his words stunned everyone into silence. even chaehee himself was left speechless, his eyes narrowing as he regarded his brother with newfound wariness.

hansol, breathing heavily, looked around at his brothers, his eyes burning with determination. “we’re going to save her,” he declared, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “no matter what it takes.” the room was still, the air thick with the weight of his words. one by one, the other princes nodded, their resolve hardening. they had made their decision. they would not let the king have his way. not this time.

your heart pounded in your chest, a wild, frantic rhythm that matched the urgency in your every movement. you couldn’t let this happen. you couldn’t let king taejo take you, bind you to him in a way that would forever benefit him, yet imprison you. as you ran, a silent prayer formed on your lips, begging for someone—anyone—to stop this.

suddenly, the sound of hoofbeats filled the air, the thunderous rhythm sending a jolt of terror down your spine. you glanced over your shoulder, fear gripping you tightly as you saw the figure approaching rapidly on horseback. for a moment, you feared it was one of the king’s guards sent to drag you back to your fate. but as the rider came closer, the familiar face of namjoon materialized out of the darkness, his expression hard as steel. “get on,” he commanded, his voice sharp with urgency.

you stumbled to a halt, your breath catching as you stared up at him, wide-eyed. the shock of seeing him, of all people, froze you in place. “i’m not marrying the king,” you stammered, panic threading through your voice. namjoon scoffed, his gaze flicking back toward the palace, where the looming threat of pursuit seemed imminent. “i know,” he replied, the words clipped. “now get on, unless you want to marry him.”

his words cut through your fear, snapping you out of your hesitation. you knew he was right; you couldn’t stay here, couldn’t risk being caught. with trembling hands, you reached out and grasped his arm, letting him pull you up onto the horse behind him. as soon as you were settled, namjoon spurred the horse forward, the animal lunging into a full gallop that sent the world around you racing by in a blur.

the wind whipped against your face, tears springing to your eyes as you clung to namjoon’s waist. the forest loomed ahead, dark and foreboding, but it was a welcome sight—anything was better than the palace, than the nightmare waiting for you there.

but your relief was short-lived. the distant sound of more horses pounding the earth reached your ears, and when you turned to look, your heart leaped into your throat. hansol, baekhyun, daniel, and younghyun were chasing after you, their horses closing the distance with every passing second. you could see the determination etched on their faces, the desperation in their eyes. namjoon noticed them too, and with a sharp command, he urged his horse to go faster, the beast pushing itself to its limits. but hansol was relentless, his horse surging ahead until he was neck and neck with namjoon.

“give her to me!” hansol shouted over the roar of the wind, his voice laced with both authority and concern. namjoon’s eyes narrowed, his grip on the reins tightening. “what makes you think i’ll do that?” he shot back, his voice cold.

hansol’s gaze burned with intensity as he locked eyes with namjoon. “because she doesn’t belong to you,” he replied, the words heavy with meaning. the silence that followed was thick, the tension between them palpable. you could feel the weight of their standoff, the unspoken challenge that hung in the air. but before anything more could be said, the sound of more horses filled the night, and you turned to see the king’s guards closing in, led by jisoo.

your heart sank at the sight of the soldiers, their faces set with grim determination. jisoo rode at the front, a wooden contraption strapped to the back of his horse—a box. you knew what it was for, and dread curled in your stomach. “come with us,” jisoo called out, his tone authoritative. “king’s orders.”

namjoon’s jaw clenched, his entire body tensing as he prepared to fight. “she’s not going anywhere,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. but you saw the reality of the situation, the hopelessness of it all. the thought of all the princes getting in trouble, of them suffering because of you, was too much to bear. you couldn’t let that happen. with a heavy sigh, you made a decision.

“i’ll be okay,” you said quietly, the words catching in your throat as you slid off namjoon’s horse. “no,” namjoon protested, his hand reaching out to stop you. “don’t do this.”

you forced a small smile, though your heart ached. “i’ll be fine,” you repeated, trying to sound convincing. “it’s better this way.”

hansol’s eyes flashed with anger, his hand twitching as if he wanted to pull you back onto the horse. “you don’t have to do this,” he said, his voice strained. you shook your head, your resolve firm. “i do,” you replied softly, stepping away from them. “i won’t let any of you get hurt because of me.”

the disappointment and worry in their eyes were like daggers to your heart, but you knew this was the only way. you couldn’t risk their safety—not for anything. with slow, reluctant steps, you approached the box, the guards flanking you on either side. you glanced back one last time, meeting namjoon’s gaze, then hansol’s. the pain in their eyes mirrored your own.

as the guards lifted you into the box, jisoo’s voice cut through the air, a solemn promise in his tone. “she’ll be fine,” he assured them. “i’ll make sure of it.” the box door closed behind you, the finality of it echoing in your heart as the darkness enveloped you. the sound of the guards’ horses moving away signaled the end of your brief escape, the end of your hope. and as the box jostled and bumped on its journey back to the palace, you could only pray that somehow, someway, this nightmare would end.

the palace seemed like a different world as you were ushered inside. your mind swirled in disbelief and fear, struggling to grasp the reality of the situation. the court ladies, their faces masked with practiced neutrality, led you to a room adorned with ornate silks and lacquered wood. you felt as though you were moving through a nightmare, each step heavier than the last.

they seated you on a cushioned stool, their hands moving with a mechanical efficiency as they began to undo the fastenings of your dress. “please, just sit still,” one of them said, her tone more of an order than a request. “what are you doing?” you whispered, voice trembling with a mixture of dread and defiance. “i don’t want this, i don’t want any of this.”

the ladies exchanged glances before one of them spoke, her voice cold and detached. “we must examine your body for any scars. nobody with scars can marry the king.” panic surged through you, and you tried to push their hands away. “stop it! i said no!”

but your protests were ignored. they grew more insistent, their hands rougher as they forced your garments off, layer by layer, until you were left bare and shivering. You whimpered, helpless under their unyielding grip, your dignity stripped away along with your clothing. their eyes swept over you, clinical and impersonal, as if you were nothing more than an object to be inspected. tears slipped down your cheeks, hot and bitter, as the humiliation tore through you. you were powerless to stop them, and it felt as though a part of you had been torn away, never to be returned.

after what felt like an eternity, they finally seemed satisfied that your skin was unmarked. the realization that your body had passed their cruel inspection brought no relief, only a deepening sense of despair. they dressed you next, their hands just as brisk and efficient as before, ignoring the tears that streamed down your face. you were adorned in the traditional wedding attire—a vibrant, intricately woven hanbok, its bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness you felt inside. the fabric was heavy, suffocating, as they tied the last ribbons in place. they pulled your hair back, weaving it into an elaborate style that felt too tight, too restricting.

you were barely able to see through the veil of your own tears, but they paid no mind. to them, you were just another duty, another task to be completed. they adjusted the final touches on your face, the paint smearing as it mixed with your tears, but they ignored it, pretending not to notice your distress. finally, they stepped back, their work complete, and motioned for you to leave. your legs felt like lead as you rose from the stool, the weight of the garments and the situation bearing down on you. as you moved down the corridor, the air around you thickened with a suffocating sense of inevitability.

the hall stretched out before you, long and oppressive, each step forward bringing you closer to a fate you did not want to accept. you felt so young, too young to be forced into something like this. your heart pounded in your chest, each beat a desperate plea to escape. as you reached the midpoint of the hall, you saw a familiar figure emerge from the shadows. namjoon. your breath caught in your throat, a spark of hope flickering within you, only to be quickly doused by the reality of your situation.

“don’t do this,” he said, his voice low and urgent. his eyes bore into yours, filled with a desperation that mirrored your own. you shook your head, forcing the words out despite the lump in your throat. “i have to,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you fought to maintain your composure. “i don’t have a choice.”

before namjoon could respond, the king appeared beside him, his presence commanding and suffocating. “are you ready?” king taejo asked, his voice steady and authoritative, as though this was just another routine matter to be settled. you met the king’s gaze, the weight of your impending fate pressing down on you from all sides. you nodded, your voice barely audible as you responded, “yes, your majesty.”

but even as the words left your lips, something within you snapped. desperation took hold, a final surge of defiance rising from the depths of your being. you turned abruptly to the small table beside you, your eyes locking onto the delicate vase that rested there. without a second thought, you seized the vase and smashed it against the edge of the table, the shattering sound echoing through the hall like the cry of your breaking spirit. the shards of porcelain scattered across the floor, but your hand reached down with a singular purpose.

the sharp edge of the broken vase gleamed in your hand as you brought it up to your wrist. time seemed to slow as you pressed it into your skin, the pain slicing through your thoughts like lightning. blood welled up, red and stark against the white porcelain and your pale skin.

“stop!” hansol’s voice rang out from behind you, filled with horror, but it was too late. your vision blurred as the blood flowed, your body swaying as the strength drained from you. you heard namjoon call your name, his voice distant and desperate, but everything was fading fast. the world around you dimmed, the sounds of the palace growing faint as you slipped into darkness. the last thing you felt was the coldness of the floor as your body collapsed, and then, nothing.

you woke to a hazy, throbbing sensation in your head, the disorienting jumble of noise and light mixing together. as your consciousness slowly sharpened, you became aware of a heavy, comforting presence beside you. you turned your head, your vision still blurry, and saw hansol sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes red and swollen, his expression a mix of sorrow and relief. the room was lit, the soft glow of a lamp casting long shadows across the walls. you could feel the warmth of the bed beneath you, the soft texture of the sheets brushing against your skin. your wrist, bandaged tightly, throbbed with a dull ache—a stark reminder of your desperate act.

hansol’s face, though tear-streaked and weary, was the first thing you clearly saw as your vision cleared. he looked at you with a blank, almost defeated expression, as though the events of the past hours had drained all the life from him. his eyes were full of unshed tears, and his gaze, though filled with concern, was tinged with an almost resigned sadness. you attempted to lift your head, but a wave of dizziness made you settle back into the pillows. weakly, you asked, “is the marriage stopped?”

hansol's eyes filled with fresh tears at your question. without saying a word, he pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a fervent desperation that spoke volumes. his hold was firm, as though he was afraid you might disappear again. the warmth of his body against yours was a balm to your wounded spirit. he nodded into your hair, his voice muffled but earnest. “yes, it’s stopped. never do that again,” he pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion.

you could only manage a soft sob against his shoulder, your tears mingling with his. you hugged him back, the raw comfort of the embrace a balm for the deep despair that had taken root in your heart. jis words—desperate, pained—were a stark reminder of how close you had come to losing everything. “i thought i’d never see you again,” he murmured, his voice heavy with relief and sorrow. “please, never do that again.”

you whispered a shaky promise, your voice barely audible. “i won’t. i promise.” hansol’s hold on you tightened briefly before he pulled back slightly, wiping away the tears from his cheeks. he looked at you with a solemn expression and said, “you’ll be working as a court lady in the palace. that’s your punishment.”

you nodded weakly, accepting the judgment. the prospect of working as a court lady felt like a small price to pay compared to the chaos you had narrowly escaped. you weren’t sure what the future held, but it seemed like a less bitter pill to swallow than the marriage you had so desperately sought to avoid. as you stepped out of the palace’s maiden room, you caught sight of namjoon standing nearby, his figure silhouetted against the corridor’s light. the sight of him sent a jolt of mixed emotions through you. he looked as though he had been waiting for you, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration.

you remained silent as he approached, your gaze dropping to the floor. namjoon’s face was stern, but there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes as he reached out and took your bandaged wrist in his hand. the touch was gentle, but his grip was firm, as though he was trying to steady himself in the face of his own emotions.

“how could you be so stupid?” he asked, his voice a blend of exasperation and genuine worry. the words were harsh, but there was an underlying tenderness that belied his stern tone. you looked up at him, your voice barely a whisper. “i wasn’t going to marry against my will.”

namjoon’s brow furrowed as he looked at the scarred skin beneath the bandages. “you’ve scarred your body for no good reason,” he said, a trace of frustration seeping through. you managed a faint, weary smile. “the scar looks better on you than on me.”

for a brief moment, namjoon’s stern expression softened. he offered you a weak, almost apologetic smile before patting your head gently. the gesture was unexpectedly comforting, a rare show of affection amidst the chaos. without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you with the faint warmth of his touch lingering on your head. as you watched him disappear down the corridor, you felt a profound sense of exhaustion, but also a flicker of hope.

in the heart of the palace, where the corridors were as grand as they were intimidating, you began your new role as a court lady. your days were filled with endless tasks, each one a reminder of your fall from the privileged world you once knew. lady jeon, your assigned mentor, was a woman of formidable presence and a reputation for cruelty. her sharp eyes missed nothing, and her standards were unyielding.

from the moment you stepped into her care, you felt her scrutiny. the first task she set before you was an assortment of menial duties—dusting ornate vases, arranging fresh flowers, and meticulously organizing the shelves of her chamber. every mistake was met with her disapproving gaze and a cruel punishment: stacking books on your head. the tomes were heavy and cumbersome, their pages rustling as they were added one after another. if you faltered or misplaced an item, you were forced to balance an ever-increasing stack, adding to the strain and frustration.

one day, lady jeon’s sharp eyes widened in surprise as you began crafting a bar of soap. her initial skepticism was evident as you mixed lye with fat and various herbs. she watched with a mixture of fascination and suspicion as you worked. you explained the process in detail, your hands skillfully moving to blend the ingredients. “this is soap,” you said, holding up the resulting mixture for her inspection. “it’s used for cleaning and has healing properties.”

her gaze was critical. “soap? what makes you think this will be of any use in the palace? and why should i believe you know what you’re doing?” you tried to ignore her tone and continued, though each mistake led to a new round of book-stacking. the heavy volumes pressed against your neck and shoulders as you wobbled under their weight, but you persevered. each error only drove you to refine your craft further, driven by the desire to prove yourself.

your routine, however, took a sudden turn when you heard frantic cries coming from crown prince taehyung’s quarters. without thinking, you ran toward the commotion. as you burst into the room, your eyes widened in horror at the sight of taehyung’s blotched skin. the rumors about his illness were true—he was afflicted with a severe rash, and he was about to immerse himself in a tub of cold water.

“stop!” you shouted, rushing to him and trying to pry the jug from his hands. “don’t use cold water. it’ll make the itching worse!”

taehyung’s eyes widened with shock and anger. “how dare you come in here? you’re not supposed to know about this!” he snapped, pushing you away. you landed on the floor, but you quickly scrambled to your feet. ignoring the pain, you called out, “please, don’t use cold water. It will aggravate the rash. warm water with peppermint leaves will soothe it.”

as you spoke, you noticed taehyung’s hesitance. he watched you with a mix of skepticism and curiosity as you instructed another court lady to fetch a bucket of warm water and peppermint leaves. you worked swiftly, applying the warm solution to his inflamed skin, explaining as you went, “peppermint has soothing properties. it’ll help reduce the itching and inflammation.”

before you could finish, lady keon stormed into the room, her face a mask of horror. “what are you doing?” she demanded, her voice sharp with authority. “how dare you touch the crown prince!” taehyung opened his mouth to protest, but lady jeon was quick to intervene. she grabbed your arm and dragged you out of the room, her grip unyielding. “you’ve overstepped your bounds,” she snapped. “your punishment will be severe.”

back in her chamber, you were once again subjected to the cruel task of balancing books on your head. the punishment was even harsher this time, as lady jeon observed with a harsh, unyielding gaze. as you struggled to maintain your balance, she sat across from you, eating a simple meal of plain rice porridge. she finally broke the silence. “how did you know that peppermint would help?”

you looked up, your voice barely above a whisper. “my grandfather had the same issue. i learned what helped him.”

lady jeon’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, she was silent. she continued to eat, her movements methodical and slow. “lady jeon, why is it that you only eat rice poridge?” you asked, noting her grim expression. her expression remained stoic as she locked eyes with you, “i'm dying,” two words, simple enough to be spoken so lightly, yet enough to make your stomach dropped.

you coughed, trying to make sense of the overwhelming silence as you mustered up your next question. “why do you hate me so much?” you asked weakly, the heavy books pressing against your frail wrists.

the question seemed to strike a chord. lady jeon slammed her spoon down onto the table, the clatter echoing in the room. “because,” she said, her voice harsh and tinged with bitterness, “you remind me of myself.” her gaze hardened, and she continued, “you’re too damn nice and too trusting. it’s a weakness in this world, and i hate seeing it in you.”

the revelation stunned you. the cruelty you faced, the harshness of her punishments—it all made a grim sort of sense now. lady jeon’s cruelty was not just a reflection of her own frustrations but a defense against her own vulnerabilities. as the minutes passed and the evening wore on, you were left alone with your thoughts, the sting of her words and the weight of your punishment settling heavily on you. the palace had become a battleground of emotions and expectations, and you were left to navigate its treacherous terrain.

the silence of the palace courtyard was abruptly shattered by screams that pierced through the tranquil atmosphere. the sudden, jarring sounds echoed through the stone corridors, causing you to jump in surprise. your heart raced as you exchanged a worried glance with lady jeon, her stern demeanor momentarily softening.

you both hurried outside, your footsteps quick and light on the cold marble. as you reached the courtyard, the scene that unfolded before you was both shocking and horrifying. chaeyeon, one of the palace aides, was being whipped mercilessly by princess seulgi. the sound of the whip cracking against her back was almost unbearable, and chaeyeon's cries of pain cut through the air like a knife.

“what’s happening?” you asked in a voice trembling with fear and disbelief. seulgi, her expression cold and unyielding, barely glanced at you as she continued her punishment. “she was caught stealing from the Fourth Prince,” seulgi responded dismissively, holding up a small, ornate hairpin. the metal glinted menacingly in the sunlight, and your heart sank as you recognized it.

the hairpin was one you had asked chaeyeon to return discreetly. it had belonged to Namjoon, dropped in the bath during a moment of chaos. realization hit you like a wave, and you felt a surge of guilt and desperation.

“stop it,” you practically snapped, rushing toward them. “please, stop this. chaeyeon was just following my instructions to return the hairpin. it was my fault, not hers.” chaeyeon’s eyes were wide with fear and gratitude as she looked at you. “please, don’t,” she begged, her voice barely audible over the whipping. “it’s not her fault. i did it.”

ignoring the pleas, you turned back to seulgi, your voice firm despite the lump in your throat. “it was my mistake. if anyone should be punished, it should be me. please, whip me instead.” seulgi’s gaze narrowed as she considered your offer, a flicker of interest lighting up her cold eyes. with a sneer, she let chaeyeon go, the whip still crackling in her hand. “very well,” she said, her tone dripping with malice. “since you’re so eager to take her place.”

before you could react, seulgi was already tying your hands to the same wooden pole. the rough ropes dug into your skin as she secured them, and your heart pounded in your chest. the anticipation of the impending pain was almost as torturous as the pain itself. seulgi’s eyes were cold and calculating as she prepared to strike.

to the side, you noticed the tense figures of baekhyun, daniel, and hansol. their faces were etched with concern and distress. baekhyun’s eyes were wide with alarm, and he took a step forward, but jisoo restrained him with a firm grip. hansol’s face was a mask of grim determination, his fists clenched at his sides. “seulgi, stop this,” hansol’s voice rang out, strained and desperate. “this isn’t right.”

seulgi’s lips curled into a scornful smile as she raised her hand to crack the whip once more. “why should i listen to you? she chose this herself.” as the whip began its descent, you braced yourself for the searing pain. the crack of the whip was deafening, and the sting of the leather against your back was a sharp, biting sensation. the pain was immediate and intense, but before the next strike could land, a hand shot out and stopped seulgi’s arm mid-air.

seulgi looked up, her eyes narrowing with surprise and irritation. standing before her was namjoon, his face a mask of unyielding authority. “that’s enough,” he commanded, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. he stepped forward, his presence commanding immediate respect and silence. seulgi’s eyes widened in shock as namjoon approached you. without a word, he untied the ropes binding your hands, his touch surprisingly gentle against the raw skin. “what are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice tinged with irritation. “this is not your concern.”

namjoon’s gaze was fixed on you, his expression a complex mixture of anger and protectiveness. “she’s mine,” he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “no one else can lay a finger on her.”

hansol’s face contorted in a grimace, his eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and frustration. the tension in the air was palpable, a mixture of fear, anger, and helplessness. seulgi’s scowl deepened as she took a step back, her demeanor one of begrudging acceptance. you felt a mix of emotions as namjoon’s gaze softened slightly, though the intensity of the moment was far from over. you stood there, your back stinging from the whip’s lash, feeling a strange sense of relief mingled with lingering dread.

baekhyun’s quarters were a curious blend of regal opulence and childlike whimsy, filled with an assortment of traditional toys that seemed almost out of place among the luxurious furnishings. as you followed him inside, your eyes were immediately drawn to the colorful collection scattered about. wooden spinning tops painted with vibrant designs, intricately carved wooden animals, and delicate paper kites, their strings neatly coiled, lay spread across a large, intricately woven rug.

he picked up a small, intricately crafted wooden horse, its legs jointed to allow for movement. with a soft, nostalgic smile, he began to demonstrate how it could gallop across the floor. “this one was made by a craftsman from the western region,” he said proudly, his eyes lighting up with fondness. “it’s one of my favorites.”

you watched with interest as he moved from toy to toy, each piece revealing a glimpse of his more youthful side. he showed you a set of spinning tops, their colors creating a mesmerizing blur as he spun them on the floor. “and this,” he said, holding up a wooden top with a painted dragon, “is a game my family used to play during festivals.”

as he enthusiastically displayed his collection, you couldn’t help but ask, “why are you so intent on showing me these?”

baekhyun’s smile faltered, and his brow furrowed as he set down the toys. he looked at you with a mixture of vulnerability and sadness. “no girl has ever treated me like you,” he admitted, his voice tinged with a sadness that was almost palpable.

you laughed softly, touched by the sincerity in his voice. before you could respond further, jisoo entered the room, his expression serious and formal. the atmosphere shifted instantly, and you quickly stood, bowing in respect as jisoo approached. his gaze swept over both of you, and he cleared his throat. “i have an announcement,” he said, his tone carrying the weight of official duty.

baekhyun’s face brightened momentarily, but his smile faltered when he heard jisoo’s next words. “his majesty has decreed that you are to be married.”

the words seemed to hit Baekhyun like a physical blow. “married?” he protested, his voice cracking with disbelief. “but why? to whom? i—” jisoo cut him off with a firm nod. “it’s the king’s orders. the decision is final.” with that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.

the impact of the news was immediate and overwhelming. baekhyun stood there, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the announcement had physically crushed him. his face was a mask of anguish and confusion. you moved closer, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “it’s going to be alright,” you said softly, though you were unsure of how to truly comfort him. “whoever the girl is, she’ll be lucky to have you.”

baekhyun’s eyes met yours, a mixture of pain and desperation evident in his gaze. “i can’t love her,” he said quietly, the words heavy with resignation. “i don’t even know who she is. how can i just accept this?”

you sighed, feeling the depth of his distress. “you have to pull through,” you said gently. “you’re a kind person, and you’ll find a way to make it work. besides, i’m sure the girl will see the good in you.”

his eyes searched yours, a flicker of hope mingled with sadness. “why won’t you marry me instead?” he asked suddenly, his voice filled with a mix of hope and despair. the question caught you off guard. “i don’t want to be a second wife,” you said softly, though you could sense his disappointment even before he voiced it.

baekhyun’s face fell, and he shook his head slowly. “you’re a mean liar,” he said with a forced smile. “you wouldn’t even be my first wife.”

before he could say more, you reached out and pulled him into a hug. the gesture surprised him, and he stiffened for a moment before sinking into the embrace. his heart ached with a profound sense of loss as he felt your warmth and sincerity envelop him. the hug was a silent comfort, a brief respite from the turmoil that had overtaken his life. You held him close, your own heart aching for the sadness he felt. the tears you had both tried to hold back now fell freely, mingling with the unspoken words and emotions that filled the space between you.

the grand hall was awash with opulence, filled with the clinking of fine china and the murmur of polite conversation as the royal family and their guests gathered to celebrate baekhyun’s wedding. you moved among the crowd with practiced grace, balancing a tray of tea cups as you served the guests. the air was thick with the scent of fresh flowers and the rich aroma of the tea.

baekhyun sat at the head table, his expression a mix of strained formality and discomfort. next to him, his new wife, kim taeyeon, attempted to mask her anxiety behind a delicate smile. jiyoung approached baekhyun with a sickly warm smile. “how do you feel about the wedding, baekhyun?” she asked, her voice filled with maternal concern.

baekhyun’s scowl was immediate and pronounced. “i don’t like it,” he replied bluntly, his eyes darting around as though searching for an escape. his honesty seemed to catch taeyeon off guard, and she frowned, her eyes darting to her husband with a mix of confusion and hurt. king taejo, seated at the center of the head table, patted baekhyun on the shoulder with an air of paternal authority. “you’ll get used to it,” he said reassuringly, though his words lacked the comfort baekhyun likely needed.

princess seulgi, her expression somewhat aloof, leaned towards taeyeon. “you’re a lucky woman,” she remarked, her tone carrying a hint of condescension. taeyeon forced a smile in response, though her eyes betrayed her unease. as you moved to serve tea to namjoon, you locked eyes with him across the room. his gaze was steady, but something in his posture struck you as unusual. as you approached, you noticed a shiver wracking his frame. you tried to ignore the uneasy feeling that was beginning to grow within you.

when you poured tea into his cup, a chilling sight met your eyes. namjoon’s lips were stained with a dark, crimson blood that was beginning to drip down his chin. panic surged through you, and you let out a sharp scream, the sound piercing through the otherwise composed atmosphere of the hall.

the commotion erupted suddenly. at the same moment, king taejo’s body slumped forward, his face hitting the table with a sickening thud. the room erupted into chaos. the guests scrambled, their screams blending into a cacophony of horror. the princes rushed to their father, their faces contorted in anguish as they tried to revive him. namjoon’s condition deteriorated rapidly, and Jisoo rushed to his side, barking orders for medical assistance. his face was pale, and he looked grave as he examined the king. the royal guards were quick to intervene, ushering the panicked crowd away from the scene.

jisoo’s voice cut through the chaos, cold and unyielding. “the king’s pulse is weak,” he announced, his tone flat as he looked up at the assembled crowd. “it appears he was poisoned.” the room fell into stunned silence, the gravity of the situation sinking in. your heart raced, and you turned to fetch your medicine, hoping to find a remedy or at least offer some aid. but before you could take a step, jisoo’s hand shot out to stop you. his expression was a mix of authority and cold detachment.

“stop right there,” he said firmly. “you’re under arrest for the attempted murders of king taejo and kim namjoon.”

your blood ran cold as the words hit you. “what? no, that’s impossible!” you protested, your voice trembling with disbelief. “i didn’t do anything!”

guards surged forward, their expressions stern and unyielding. they seized you roughly, dragging you away from the scene. you struggled against their grip, your pleas for justice echoing through the hall. “i swear, i didn’t do this! i was just serving tea!” the guards paid no heed to your protests, and you were forced into the cold, oppressive darkness of an underground chamber. the walls were damp and echoing with the sounds of dripping water. the chamber was stark and barren, a heavy iron door clanging shut behind you with a deafening noise.

you sank to the floor, the weight of the accusations pressing down on you. tears streamed down your face as you grappled with the enormity of the situation. the betrayal, the confusion, and the fear all swirled together, leaving you feeling lost and helpless in the unforgiving darkness.

in the room of the royal palace, the atmosphere was charged with tension and desperation. hansol and daniel, their faces etched with worry and frustration, were pacing the floor in the king’s chamber. king taejo lay propped up in his bed, his pallid face a stark contrast to the rich, regal fabrics draped around him. his condition was grave, and the room was filled with the faint, oppressive scent of illness.

“your majesty,” hansol began, his voice trembling slightly as he approached the bed, “we have reason to believe that nabi is innocent. the evidence against her is false.” king taejo's eyes, heavy with the weight of impending death, flickered with a mixture of irritation and exhaustion. “there was poison found in her room,” he replied, his voice raspy and weak. “it’s clear she was involved.”

“but we have witnesses,” daniel interjected urgently, stepping forward. “we’ve spoken to several people who can attest to her innocence.” the king's gaze remained unyielding, a cold resolve in his eyes. “it does not change the fact that poison was found, nor does it alter my decision. she will be hanged.”

the finality of his statement struck hansol and daniel like a physical blow. hansol’s face turned ashen, and he clenched his fists in frustration. “you can’t do this!” he protested. “we have to find out the truth!” daniel’s eyes were pleading, but the king’s resolve remained unshaken. “it is done,” king taejo said, turning his head away dismissively.

in your cell, the heavy silence was only broken by the occasional drip of water from the stone walls. you were bruised from the guards’ rough handling, your limbs aching from the beatings. the cold, unforgiving darkness of the cell seemed to press in on you from all sides, making your isolation feel even more profound. suddenly, you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching. your heart leaped with a mix of hope and apprehension. the door creaked open, and namjoon stepped into the dimly lit cell. his eyes were filled with a fierce determination as he approached.

“i didn’t do it,” you said weakly, looking up at him with a pleading expression. “i swear, i didn’t.” namjoon’s expression softened slightly, though his face remained stern. “i know,” he said quietly. “i’ll find out who really did this. you have my word.” with that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the cell. you watched him go, feeling a glimmer of hope amidst your despair. namjoon’s resolve was a small beacon of light in your otherwise dark world.

that night, namjoon kept watch from the shadows, his gaze fixed on the maiden’s quarters. his keen eyes caught sight of a cloaked figure slipping stealthily from the building. without hesitation, he moved to intercept, drawing his sword with a practiced, fluid motion. “stop right there,” he commanded, his voice sharp and authoritative. the figure paused, slowly turning to reveal a face shrouded in darkness. namjoon’s sword remained at the ready as he advanced, his eyes narrowing.

just then, another cloaked figure emerged from the shadows across from them. namjoon’s suspicion deepened. “both of you, show yourselves,” he ordered. “give it up now, and i might let you live.”

the first figure revealed herself as jiyoung, her face set in a smug expression. the second figure, emerging from the cloak’s folds, was seulgi. her smile was equally self-satisfied, and together, their presence was a shocking revelation.

in the king’s chamber, the atmosphere was somber. lady jeon entered with a tray of tea, her movements deliberate and controlled. king taejo’s eyes, now dimming with the weight of his impending death, regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and resignation. “are you happy to see me die?” the king asked, his voice barely a whisper.

lady jeon’s gaze was unwavering. “i could never hate you,” she replied, her tone soft yet tinged with a hint of bitterness. “i loved you once.”

the king’s eyes widened slightly. “you’re speaking of the past. it was many years ago.” lady jeon nodded. “i miscarried, and you married jiyoung instead. it was a heartbreak i could never overcome.”

the king’s face grew somber. “what is it you want from me now?”

lady jeon’s eyes hardened with a resolute fire. “i have one wish before you go. i was the one who put poison in the tea. i want to be hanged for my crime, and I want nabi to be spared.”

king taejo’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. “you’re lying. there’s no evidence of your guilt.”

lady jeon’s voice was firm, though she kept a calm exterior. “it’s true. the poison was in the tea i served to you and the fourth prince.” she then produced a vial, its contents a dark, ominous liquid. “i ask to be hanged and for nabi to be released.”

the king’s gaze flickered between lady jeon and the vial. “very well,” he said, though his voice carried an air of finality. “call the guards.”

she smiled bitterly. “i’ll see you very soon, your majesty.”

as the heavy iron door of your cell creaked open, you were met with a wave of harsh light and the stoic faces of the palace guards. your heart pounded in your chest, a cacophony of confusion and hope swirling within you. the guards, their expressions unreadable, began leading you out of the cold, dark confines of the cell. “why am I being released?” you asked, your voice hoarse from disuse and grief.

one of the guards, his tone devoid of emotion, replied, “the culprit has been found. you are no longer needed here.”

a knot of unease formed in your stomach. “who is it?” you pressed, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush. as if in answer, lady jeon appeared, her hands bound and a serene smile playing on her lips. your breath caught in your throat, and an intense wave of anger and despair surged through you. without thinking, you lunged toward her, but the guards intervened, restraining you with practiced ease.

“let me go!” you cried, struggling against their hold. “i need to speak with her!” the guards hesitated, exchanging glances before reluctantly allowing you a brief moment. you seized the opportunity, guiding lady jeon to the secluded cave where you and chaeyeon had hidden after the bath incident. your hands trembled as you tried to move the rocks obstructing the entrance, but they remained stubbornly in place.

“please, we can escape together,” you pleaded, your voice cracking under the strain of your emotions. “we can get out of here.” lady jeon’s gaze was filled with a mix of sadness and resignation as she pulled you into a tender embrace. her arms were warm and comforting, a stark contrast to the cold, harsh reality that awaited both of you.

“don’t trust anyone in the palace,” she murmured into your hair. “they are all deceitful and dangerous.” tears streamed down your face, and you clung to her, your sobs wracking your body. “please, don’t go,” you begged, your voice barely audible through the torrent of grief. “please, just stay with me.”

lady jeon’s fingers brushed your hair gently as she whispered, “i’d be dead soon anyway. it’s better this way.” she placed a soft kiss on your forehead, her touch lingering for a final, bittersweet moment. with a final, sorrowful glance, lady jeon turned and walked away. you watched her retreating figure until she disappeared from view. your heart felt like it was being torn apart as you made your way back to the palace, each step a painful reminder of the loss you were enduring.

as you stumbled through the corridors, your voice rose in a hoarse, broken plea. “your majesty, please spare lady jeon,” you cried out repeatedly, but the halls were empty, your words echoing only to meet deaf ears. when you finally reached the palace grounds, you collapsed onto the ground, your body wracked with sobs. the weight of your grief and the realization of lady jeon’s fate pressed heavily upon you. the once vibrant grounds seemed to darken around you, reflecting your internal turmoil.

hansol and jisoo emerged from one side, their expressions etched with concern and helplessness. hansol’s eyes were filled with a profound sadness, unable to offer more than a silent witness to your suffering. jisoo’s face was grim, his usual composure overshadowed by the gravity of the situation. suddenly, a familiar presence approached. namjoon, his face a mask of determination and concern, appeared at your side. without a word, he scooped you up into his arms, lifting you effortlessly off the ground. you struggled against him for a moment, but his hold was firm yet gentle.

“it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he cradled you against his shoulder. “it’ll be alright. i’m here.” his words, though not a complete balm for your anguish, provided a small measure of comfort. you buried your face in his shoulder, allowing your tears to flow freely as he carried you through the palace grounds. his presence was a beacon of solace amid the storm of emotions that had overwhelmed you.

as he walked, his strides steady and purposeful, you clung to him, your sobs slowly subsiding into quiet, exhausted breaths. namjoon’s steady murmurs of reassurance continued, a soft lullaby against the backdrop of your grief. “it’s gonna be okay,” he repeated, each word infused with a tenderness that cut through the darkness of your despair. “i promise.” you looked up at him through tear-streaked eyes, feeling a fragile thread of hope amid the overwhelming sorrow. as he carried you through the palace and away from the tragic scene, you clung to the promise that perhaps, in time, the pain would ease.

the palace was a flurry of activity and hushed whispers as the news of king taejo’s death spread like wildfire through the kingdom. the once vibrant corridors and grand halls now felt heavy with an air of somber anticipation. everywhere you went, the gravity of the king's demise seemed to press down, casting a veil of melancholy over the palace and its inhabitants.

the funeral ceremonies had been conducted with solemnity, and now, a new chapter was beginning. taehyung, the crown prince, was being crowned as the next king. the ceremony was an elaborate affair, filled with the grandeur expected of such a significant event. the air was thick with the scent of incense and the murmur of prayers, as the high priests performed rites to ensure a smooth transition of power. taehyung stood tall, his expression a mix of resolve and trepidation, as the crown was placed upon his head. the weight of the kingdom’s future now rested upon his shoulders.

in the aftermath of the coronation, tensions were high. chaehee, the third prince, was barely able to contain his fury. he stormed through the halls, his anger manifesting in shattered dishes and overturned furniture. the sound of breaking porcelain and clattering metal echoed through the palace, a stark contrast to the ceremonial calm that had just enveloped the kingdom.

jiyoung, now dealing with the new political landscape, attempted to calm him. “chaehee, control yourself!” she demanded, her voice sharp and commanding. “your outbursts won’t change anything. we’ll get rid of taehyung soon enough.”

chaehee’s rage was palpable as he glared at her. “it’s not right,” he spat. “he’s unworthy, and you know it. he’s a puppet, and we’re the ones who’ll be strung along while he plays king.”

meanwhile, newly crowned king taehyung addressed the court with a somber determination. his voice, though steady, held an undercurrent of urgency. “in light of the recent events and the dire need for rain,” he announced, “we will perform the rain ritual. our people are suffering from a severe drought, and we must do all we can to bring relief.”

the ritual was an old tradition, one that involved a ceremonial process of selecting a prince to lead a procession through the town, praying for rain. the princes’ names were written on sticks, which would be drawn by jisoo, the king’s advisor. the chosen prince would then ride through the streets, offering prayers and sacrifices to appease the heavens.

as the princes gathered, baekhyun, his face pale and his hands trembling, voiced his fear. “what happens if no rain comes after the ritual?” he asked, his voice cracking with anxiety. jisoo, his expression cold and detached, replied, “the chosen one will be sacrificed. it is believed that the heavens will only answer our prayers if the price is paid.”

baekhyun’s eyes widened in terror, and he desperately pleaded, “please, take my name out. i don’t want to be the one chosen.” laughter erupted among the courtiers and some of the princes, their mockery ringing harshly in the tense atmosphere. jisoo, unmoved by baekhyun’s pleas, reached into the urn and pulled out a stick. his face remained impassive as he revealed the name written on it.

chaehee’s expression darkened with malicious glee. “namjoon?” he scoffed. “with that scar of his, he’d only scare the rain away. he’s hardly fit to be a messenger for the gods.” namjoon’s shoulders sagged, and a shadow of sadness crossed his face. he stood silently, his gaze fixed on the floor, his heart visibly heavy with the burden of his impending fate.

you were in lady jeon’s former chamber, packing her belongings into boxes. the task was a grim one, and your tears fell freely as you moved her personal effects. the weight of the day’s events pressed heavily on you, adding a layer of sorrow to the already somber task. the door creaked open, and namjoon stepped in, his face drawn and weary. you looked up, wiping your tears hastily. “is everything alright?” you asked, your voice soft and concerned.

namjoon’s gaze was troubled as he spoke. “the rain ritual, i’ve been chosen to participate,” he said, his tone heavy with resignation. “i’m worried that my scar will be a problem. i need it covered up.”

your heart ached for him. “i’ll help you,” you said, though the task ahead seemed daunting. you led him to a small vanity where you began the meticulous process of applying makeup to hide the scar on his face. with gentle hands, you applied the foundation, carefully blending it to cover the disfigurement. every touch was tender, your focus entirely on the task. namjoon’s discomfort was palpable as he flinched slightly under your touch, but he remained still, his eyes reflecting a mixture of shame and hope.

“it isn’t that bad,” you reassured him, your voice soothing. “it’s just a scar. you’re still the same person.” namjoon’s eyes met yours in the mirror, and a small, grateful smile tugged at his lips. “thank you,” he murmured, his voice tinged with emotion. “it means a lot to me.”

once the makeup was applied, you handed him the mirror. he examined his reflection closely, a look of tentative relief crossing his features. “it looks much better,” he said, his tone lighter. “thank you for this.”

as the rain ritual began, the air was thick with anticipation and desperation. the town was crowded with people, their faces upturned as they watched the procession. taehyung, with his newly crowned dignity, led the ceremonial march. the atmosphere was electric with hope and despair, the people’s prayers mingling with the rhythmic clamor of drums and the chants of supplicants.

namjoon, dressed in ceremonial robes and mounted on a horse, rode through the streets, his presence commanding a mixture of reverence and awe. the crowd watched in silence, their eyes fixed on him as he offered his prayers. after what felt like an eternity, the first droplets of rain began to fall. the sky, previously clouded and gray, opened up, and the rain poured down in a life-giving deluge. the crowd erupted into cheers and tears of joy, their relief overwhelming.

chaehee, standing on the sidelines, was fuming with rage. his face was a mask of fury as he watched the scene unfold, his anger directed at namjoon and the entire ritual. the sight of the rain, a sign of the gods’ favor, only seemed to fuel his ire further. you found yourself overwhelmed by the turn of events. as you moved through the halls, the weight of everything that had happened pressed down on you. your emotions were a tangled mess of relief, sadness, and exhaustion.

hansol’s approach was unexpected, his expression a mix of concern and something else that you couldn’t quite place. as he drew near, you could see the tension in his shoulders, the tightness of his jaw. he stopped in front of you, his eyes searching yours with a gravity that made your heart race.

“was it you who covered namjoon’s scar?” he asked, his voice low and edged with a hint of something you couldn’t immediately identify. you nodded, feeling a sudden chill run through you. “yes, it was me.” his reaction was immediate, his face falling into a look of disappointment that was almost palpable. “why are you so upset?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly. the question hung in the air between you, a contrast to the celebratory mood that still lingered in the palace.

hansol was silent for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor as if grappling with his thoughts. finally, he looked up, his eyes meeting yours with a hesitant resolve. “i wanted to ask you something,” he said, his tone unsteady. “i want to marry you.”

the words struck you like a bolt of lightning, leaving you momentarily disoriented. the request was so unexpected that it took a few moments for your mind to process it. you stared at hansol, and in that moment, a wave of disturbing visions surged through your mind.

you saw the historical echoes of a tyrant king, the fourth king gwangjong, whose ambition had led him to murder his brothers to secure his throne. the visions were vivid and horrifying, with gwangjong’s face morphing into namjoon’s, a sinister reflection of a dark fate. the realization came crashing down on you like a torrent, and you found yourself whispering, “stay away from prince namjoon. he will kill you,” over and over, as if it were a mantra that could ward off the impending doom.

tears welled up in your eyes, slipping down your cheeks as you repeated the warning in a trance-like state. hansol’s confusion grew evident, his hands reaching out to shake your shoulders gently. “what are you talking about?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

you barely registered his words, your mind lost in a haze of fear and foreboding. “stay away if you want to live,” you managed to say, your voice breaking with emotion. the urgency in your tone left no room for debate. “stay away.” with those final, desperate words, you turned and fled from the room, your heart pounding in your chest. the fear and shock were overwhelming, and you knew you had to find a way to prevent the terrible future you had glimpsed from coming to pass.

the atmosphere in the royal palace had shifted in the days following taehyung’s coronation. the once uneasy marriage between baekhyun and taeyeon had started to show signs of improvement. baekhyun, who had been so resistant to the idea of marriage, seemed to be finding solace in small, unanticipated joys.

he decided to share his collection of traditional toys with taeyeon. he led her to a quiet corner of the palace where a small table was set up with an assortment of handcrafted toys: intricately carved wooden tops, delicate paper kites, and colorful spinning tops. the toys were beautifully made, each one a testament to the craftsmanship of their creators.

“look at this one,” baekhyun said, holding up a wooden top with a flourish. “it’s called a ‘cheongchun.’ you spin it and see how long it can keep going.” taeyeon’s eyes lit up with genuine interest as she took the top from him. she gave it a spin, and it twirled gracefully on the table. “it’s wonderful,” she said, her smile wide. “i’ve never seen anything like it.”

baekhyun’s expression softened as he watched her. “i used to play with these all the time as a child,” he said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “they remind me of simpler times.” taeyeon laughed softly, her previous unease dissipating. “it’s nice to see you enjoying something so simple.”

as the two of them continued to explore the toys, an unexpected sense of camaraderie began to form between them. it was clear that taeyeon’s genuine interest and baekhyun’s willingness to share a piece of his past were forging a new connection, one that seemed to ease the tension that had once been suffocating.

meanwhile, you had been assigned to attend to taehyung’s needs, and today that meant holding towels while he took a bath. you stood near the edge of the opulent bathing room, the scent of fragrant oils and warm steam filling the air. taehyung, relaxed and unworried, was immersed in the large, ornate bath, the water shimmering with golden hues from the light filtering in through the intricately designed windows.

the serene moment was abruptly shattered when a group of guards burst into the room, followed closely by chaehee, who was flanked by a grim-faced entourage. your heart skipped a beat as you caught sight of namjoon storming in behind them. his face was pale, his eyes wide with alarm.

“run!” namjoon shouted, his voice tinged with desperation. “taehyung, get out of the water!” but it was already too late.

as you turned to the bath, your breath caught in your throat. taehyung was struggling, his face contorted in pain. he gasped for breath, his body convulsing violently. blood bubbled from his mouth, and the water around him began to turn a disturbing shade of red. it was clear that something was terribly wrong. panic surged through you as you rushed forward, your hands trembling as you reached for taehyung. “your majesty! what’s happening?” you cried out, but your voice was swallowed by the chaos unfolding before you.

the guards rushed forward, but it was too late. taehyung’s struggles grew weaker, his body sinking lower into the water. the horrifying truth was becoming clear: someone had poisoned the bathwater. mercury, a deadly toxin, had been mixed into the water, causing taehyung’s horrific reaction. namjoon’s face was a mask of shock and helplessness. he looked at him with a mixture of horror and regret. “no, this can’t be happening,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the commotion.

chaehee stood to the side, his expression cold and detached as he watched the scene unfold. there was a grim satisfaction in his eyes, a chilling contrast to the devastation surrounding him. as taehyung’s body grew still, the room fell into a stunned silence. the atmosphere was suffused with grief and disbelief as the truth settled over the assembled witnesses. taehyung was dead, and the source of the poison remained unknown, though the look on chaehee’s face spoke volumes.

“announce the new king,” chaehee said quietly, his voice carrying an unsettling calm.

in the midst of the chaos, jisoo appeared, his face drawn with the weight of the moment. “by the decree of king taehyung’s death,” he announced, “prince chaehee will be crowned the next king.”

your mind reeled with the enormity of the events, the fear and sorrow threatening to overwhelm you. the scene was surreal, the opulence of the bathhouse now tainted with tragedy. as the reality of taehyung’s death sank in, you felt a sense of loss and helplessness. you watched as the remaining princes, including namjoon, struggled to come to terms with the sudden shift in power. the transition of kingship was sudden and brutal, leaving a palpable sense of instability in its wake.

the atmosphere in the palace had shifted from tense anticipation to outright horror as chaehee’s latest decree echoed through the halls. the proclamation came as a shock to everyone: the byun household, led by baekhyun, had been accused of deceit and failure to pay taxes over the years, a grave offense punishable by death. the news spread quickly from daniel to you, namjoon, hansol, and the other servants, each one feeling the weight of the announcement.

you were rushing through the corridors, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to make sense of the unfolding chaos. the palace was in turmoil, the once calm and orderly environment now a frenzied landscape of confusion and fear. you ran, desperate to see if you could somehow intervene or offer comfort, but the weight of the news felt like a leaden shroud around you.

you and the others arrived just in time to witness the grim scene unfolding in the courtyard. baekhyun and taeyeon were surrounded by a ring of guards, their faces pale and etched with despair. chaehee stood at the center of it all, his expression cold and detached as he prepared to carry out his decree.

taeyeon’s eyes were wide with terror as chaehee raised his bow. without hesitation, he released the arrow. it flew through the air with a deadly precision, striking taeyeon’s heart. she gasped, her body crumpling to the ground with a final, shuddering breath. the sight was horrific: her eyes wide open in shock as she lay motionless on the cobblestones. the impact of her sudden death was crushing, her life extinguished in an instant.

baekhyun, now completely distraught, fell to his knees beside her, his sobs wracking his body. the anguish on his face was palpable, his sorrow raw and unrestrained. “taeyeon!” he cried out, his voice breaking with each word. “taeyeon, no!”

the scene was a cacophony of grief and terror. you stood frozen in spot, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight. the cold finality of chaehee’s actions was overwhelming. as if to add to the cruelty, chaehee drew another arrow, aiming it at baekhyun. the arrow struck him in the arm, and he cried out in pain, clutching at the wound as he continued to weep for his fallen wife.

daniel tried to rush forward, his face a mask of desperation. “baekhyun! no!” he shouted, but the guards held him back. namjoon, his face contorted with a mix of rage and sorrow, pushed past the guards, determined to reach his brother.

the chaos continued to swirl around you as baekhyun, weakened and in excruciating pain, was struck once more, this time in the stomach. namjoon reached his brother just as he fell to the ground, his breaths coming in shallow, agonized gasps. namjoon’s eyes were filled with tears as he knelt beside him, who reached out a trembling hand toward him. “i’m sorry,” baekhyun whispered, his voice barely audible over his gasps. “i’m so sorry for everything.”

namjoon’s face was a picture of heart-wrenching grief as he shook his head. “don’t talk like that,” he choked out, his voice breaking. “you’re going to be okay. you’ll get through this.”

baekhyun’s hand found namjoon’s, gripping it with a strength that belied his fading life. “no,” he said weakly. “i don’t want to live like this. i'd rather you finish it. please.”

namjoon’s tears flowed freely as he raised his sword, the weapon heavy in his trembling hands. daniel’s pleas fell on deaf ears as he tried to reach his brother, but the guards prevented him from doing so. namjoon’s face was a mask of anguish as he swung the sword, the blade slicing through baekhyun’s wound. baekhyun cried out one last time, his body collapsing onto the lifeless form of his wife. he reached out for her hand, his own trembling and weak.

with a final, desperate effort, baekhyun clung to taeyeon’s hand, his fingers stretching out as if trying to hold onto the last remnants of his life. the scene was heart-wrenching: the two of them, now forever entwined in death, their lives tragically cut short by the brutal decree of a new ruler.

chaehee, having witnessed the brutal execution, turned away from the grisly scene. his eyes fell upon hansol, who had been watching from the shadows, his expression a mix of shock and regret. chaehee approached him, his tone deceptively calm despite the chaos that had just transpired. “well,” chaehee said, his voice cold but tinged with a hint of approval, “this was your best idea, i will admit.”

hansol’s eyes were filled with a mix of sorrow and anger. “thank you,” he replied quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “your majesty.”

chaehee gave him a curt nod. “you’ve earned my trust,” he said, his gaze icy. “remember that.”

with that, he retreated back into the palace, leaving hansol alone in the courtyard. the scene before him was a tableau of destruction and grief, the once vibrant and bustling palace now a place of death and mourning. as the last echoes of baekhyun’s cries faded away, hansol stood in the midst of the carnage, his heart heavy with the weight of the events that had unfolded. the courtyard, now eerily silent, was a reminder of the ruthlessness that had taken hold of the palace. the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the bodies of baekhyun and taeyeon, their lives extinguished by the cruel machinations of betrayal.

the courtyard was suffused with a chilling silence, the aftermath of the brutal executions leaving an air heavy with despair and loss. namjoon’s once steady composure had shattered, replaced by a raw, unrestrained panic. his face was a mask of anguish, his eyes wide and unseeing as he staggered through the wreckage of the palace grounds.

as he moved, his steps were erratic, a desperate rhythm that seemed to echo the frantic beats of his heart. the weight of baekhyun’s death was too much to bear, each step carrying the burden of unfulfilled promises and shattered dreams. his cries were guttural, an expression of the profound grief that consumed him. his usually strong demeanor was now reduced to a quivering, lost soul.

you watched from the sidelines, your own heart breaking as you recalled every moment with baekhyun—the memory of his playful taunts, his innocent laughter, the times you fought with him over trivial matters, and the confession of love that had been so unexpected yet sincere. the vivid recollections were overwhelming, a cruel reminder of the vibrant life that had been so abruptly extinguished.

tears streamed down your face as you followed namjoon, each step feeling like an agonizing journey through a landscape of sorrow. the images of baekhyun, so full of life, seemed to blend with the sight of his lifeless body lying in the courtyard. the contrast was jarring, the vibrant memories now mingling with the stark reality of his death. you wished to take it all back, to give everything for just another minute of him showing you his toys, or fighting with you, or even confessing.

eventually, your legs gave out beneath you. you collapsed to the ground, the weight of your emotions too much to bear. without thinking, you threw your arms around namjoon, pulling him into a desperate embrace. the contact was a small comfort, a fleeting moment of shared grief amidst the overwhelming chaos. namjoon’s body shook with his sobs, his head resting heavily against your shoulder.

hansol, who had been silently battling his own guilt, stumbled over to where you and namjoon were huddled. his tears flowed freely, mingling with his sweat and grime. he had seen the destruction he had helped bring about, and the burden of his actions was too much to bear. he reached out, his hands trembling as he touched namjoon’s shoulder, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

daniel emerged from the shadows, his face a portrait of numbness and pain. his steps were mechanical, his eyes focused on his brother’s lifeless form. younghyun and yeosang joined them, their expressions mirroring the profound grief that enveloped the courtyard. they stood together, united in their sorrow, their hearts heavy with the weight of the day’s events.

the group formed a somber circle around you and namjoon, each person grappling with their own grief. the only sound was the occasional sob, the soft rustling of the wind, and the distant murmur of the palace’s remaining inhabitants. the atmosphere was suffused with a deep, aching silence, punctuated only by the sounds of your and namjoon’s grief.

amidst the chaos, namjoon’s voice emerged, hoarse and trembling. “sing,” he pleaded, his words barely more than a whisper. “please, sing.”

you were momentarily dazed and confused, the request seeming almost surreal amidst the overwhelming sadness. but as your eyes fell on baekhyun’s lifeless body, the weight of the moment became unbearable. you choked on a sob, the finality of the sight threatening to drown you in sorrow.

with a deep breath, you closed your eyes and began to sing. the melody that emerged was one of deep sorrow and aching beauty, a song that seemed to resonate with the collective pain of everyone present. it was a hauntingly beautiful tune, one that spoke of loss and longing, a melody that had been passed down through generations, its origins lost to time. the song wove through the air, carrying with it the weight of unspoken words and unfulfilled promises. it was a melody that spoke to the soul, a haunting lullaby that touched on the deepest corners of grief. as you sang, your voice quivered, each note a testament to the heartache that pervaded the courtyard.

namjoon clung to you, his tears mixing with yours as he listened to the song. hansol, daniel, younghyun, and yeosang all wept openly, their cries blending with the sorrowful notes of your melody. the scene was a powerful tableau of collective mourning, each person united in their grief, their pain momentarily alleviated by the soothing balm of your song.

the melody seemed to linger in the air, wrapping around the gathered mourners like a comforting embrace. it was a song that would be remembered, a testament to the love and loss that had marked this tragic day. “tonight, i'll send you the firefly from that day, to your window, i hope you have sweet dreams,” as the final notes faded into the evening air, the silence that followed was heavy but filled with a sense of bittersweet closure. you knew that baekhyun, wherever he was, would be listening. maybe, by his window. maybe, in his sweet dreams.

the sky above the river stream had deepened into a twilight blue, the last vestiges of daylight casting a gentle glow over the water. the river, once a place of daily tasks and fleeting moments, had become a sanctuary, a quiet refuge from the storm of recent events. the soothing murmur of the stream filled the space between you and namjoon, creating a serene backdrop to the intimate moment unfolding between you.

you and namjoon had wandered here together, the path illuminated by the soft, shimmering light of the setting sun. the air was cool and crisp, a welcome change from the stifling heat of the palace. as you approached the river’s edge, you could feel the tension of the past days easing, replaced by a tender calm that settled between you. namjoon stood close, his hand occasionally brushing against yours as you walked. his presence was comforting, a steady anchor amidst the tension that had surrounded both of you. when you reached the spot where you had first served him lunch, the memories of that day seemed to merge with the present, creating a poignant sense of continuity.

the river flowed gently, its surface catching the last golden rays of the sun, creating a dance of light and shadow that played across the water. the tranquility of the scene seemed to soothe the remnants of distress in your heart, and you found yourself gazing at namjoon, a soft smile on your lips.

his eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world around you faded into insignificance. the turmoil of recent days, the losses, the betrayals—all seemed to vanish in the face of this simple, serene moment. he stepped closer, his gaze steady and affectionate. “what is it about this place?” you asked softly, breaking the silence. “why do you love the river so much?”

namjoon’s expression softened, his eyes reflecting the gentle light of the stream. “it’s quiet here,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “everything slows down. there’s no noise, no demands—just the sound of the water and the peace it brings.”

you nodded, understanding his sentiment. the river had always been a haven, a place where one could escape the clamor of palace life and find solace in nature’s embrace. “i wish we could run away,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “find a place where we could be free from all of this.” namjoon’s eyes darkened with determination. “we will,” he assured you, his tone firm yet gentle. “just wait until i’m given the throne. once i’m in a position of power, we’ll leave together. find our own place, somewhere peaceful.”

his words were a promise, a beacon of hope that illuminated the uncertainty of the future. the idea of escaping the constraints of the palace and starting anew with namjoon filled you with a sense of hope and anticipation. it was a dream that seemed within reach, a future that you could look forward to with him by your side. as the evening sky deepened, he reached out, his hand gently cupping your face. rhe touch was tender, his fingers warm against your skin. his gaze was filled with a mixture of love and longing, and before you could fully process the moment, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

the kiss was soft and sweet, a gentle exploration that conveyed all the emotions neither of you could put into words. it was a kiss filled with promise and affection, a tender connection that spoke of the future you both hoped to build together. the world around you seemed to blur as you lost yourself in the sensation, your heart racing with a mixture of joy and relief.

when he finally pulled back, his eyes searched yours with a depth of feeling that made your heart ache with happiness. “i love you,” he said softly, his voice a caress against the stillness of the evening. the evening drew on, the sky slowly darkening into night. as you sat by the river, the two of you shared a quiet, tender moment that was both a balm for your weary souls and a promise of brighter days to come.

the night had settled into an oppressive silence, a heaviness that seemed to weigh down every corner of the palace. chaehee lay in his bed, drenched in sweat, the sheets twisted around him like a shroud. his eyes were wide open, staring into the darkness as if willing it to offer him some reprieve. the voices—baekhyun’s and taehyung’s—haunted him with their pleading, their cries for help echoing through his mind with a cruel, relentless intensity.

he tossed and turned, the hallucinations of baekhyun and taehyung becoming more vivid with each passing hour. their faces, twisted in anguish, appeared at the edge of his vision, their voices growing louder, more insistent. “let us out!” they begged, their words a constant, desperate refrain. “help us! save us!”

chaehee’s breath came in ragged gasps, his heart pounding erratically as the guilt and fear overwhelmed him. he could see their ghostly forms moving around him, their eyes wide with a mixture of terror and accusation. his room seemed to close in on him, the shadows lengthening and darkening, becoming oppressive barriers he could not escape.

he screamed, a raw, guttural sound that seemed to tear from his very soul. his scream echoed through the empty corridors, a reflection of his inner turmoil. his screams were a desperate attempt to break free from the suffocating grip of his own mind, but they only served to amplify his sense of isolation. the more he fought to silence the voices, the louder they seemed to grow, until they were a cacophony of despair that reverberated through his entire being.

as the night wore on, chaehee’s mind became a battleground of fear and remorse. he knew that his actions had sealed his fate, that the lives lost were a direct consequence of his ruthless ambitions. the visions and voices seemed to mock him, a cruel reminder of the price he had paid for power.

in your own room, the night was less tumultuous but no less fraught with anxiety. the visions of namjoon’s future, the one you had glimpsed with such dread, played on a loop in your mind. the knowledge that he might become the next king, his victory won at the cost of his brothers’ lives, was a heavy burden to bear. you wrestled with your fear and uncertainty, wondering if you could trust him or if he was doomed to repeat the same path of bloodshed and betrayal. the possibility of changing his destiny seemed both daunting and necessary.

as you lay in bed, lost in these thoughts, you heard a soft rustling. your heart skipped a beat as you realized someone was in your room. namjoon’s silhouette emerged from the darkness, his presence both a comfort and a cause for anxiety. his eyes, usually so confident, were shadowed with an intensity that spoke of his own inner conflict.

he approached you quietly, his movements deliberate and gentle. “i wanted to see you,” he whispered, his voice a low murmur that seemed to cut through the darkness. you blinked, trying to clear the haze of sleep and confusion. “why?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

namjoon climbed into your bed, his body warm against yours. he kissed you softly, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that belied the intensity of his gaze. the kiss deepened, his hands moving to cradle your face as he explored the contours of your lips. you blushed, feeling a mix of exhilaration and apprehension. “your highness, this isn’t right,” you murmured, your voice trembling slightly as his hands roamed down your body. his touch was both electrifying and disorienting, a physical affirmation of the emotions you had been grappling with.

his hands found their way to the sash of your robe, deftly untying it and revealing your naked body to the cool night air. you gasped as he cupped your breasts, his thumbs tracing circles around your erect nipples. the sensation was both exhilarating and terrifying, and you felt your body respond despite your mind’s reservations. namjoon’s hand slid down further, his fingers teasing the wetness between your legs. “you want this as much as i do,” he whispered, his voice filled with a primal hunger that sent shivers down your spine.

his mouth returned to yours, his tongue delving deep as he ground his hips against yours. you could feel the hardness of his desire pressing against you, and it was a feeling that both thrilled and intimidated you. his kisses grew more insistent, his hands more demanding. your resolve crumbled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. the world outside your chamber was forgotten as you gave in to the passion that had been simmering between you for so long.

his fingers worked their magic, bringing you closer to the edge of pleasure. your breaths grew ragged, and you found yourself whispering his name. he chuckled darkly, the sound a heady mix of arrogance and satisfaction. “say it louder,” he urged, his voice thick with lust. “say it like you mean it, like you want me to claim you completely.” you moaned, the sound swallowed by his mouth as he claimed you with a fierce kiss. your body arched off the bed, and you clutched at his shoulders as the first waves of pleasure crashed over you.

namjoon’s touch grew rougher, his kisses more possessive. he pulled away, his eyes blazing with desire. “i meant when i said you were mine, nobody else's,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper that sent a thrill of fear through your body. your eyes widened, but instead of pulling away, you found yourself nodding, your body eager for the release he offered. he positioned himself over you, his large cock nudging against your wet entrance. without a word, he pushed inside you, filling you completely. the sensation was overwhelming, and you cried out, the sound echoing through the silent room.

his thrusts were deep and powerful, each one pushing you closer to the precipice of ecstasy. the pain and pleasure melded together, creating a symphony of sensations that had you gripping the bed sheets. your body responded to his rough handling, your hips rising to meet his every thrust. the room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and the harsh pants of your shared passion.

his grip on your hips tightened, his movements becoming more erratic as he approached his own climax. “let go for me, my lady,” he grunted, his teeth grazing your earlobe. the dirty talk sent a jolt of excitement through you, and you felt yourself tighten around him, your orgasm building rapidly.

the tension grew, a coil in your belly that threatened to snap at any moment. and then it did, sending you spiraling over the edge with a scream that was muffled by his mouth. namjoon’s own release followed quickly, his warmth filling you completely. he collapsed on top of you, his body heavy with satisfaction and exhaustion.

the silence that followed was tense, filled with the thundering of your hearts and the harshness of your breathing. the reality of what had just transpired settled over you like a shroud, and you felt a sense of foreboding that seemed to pervade the very air around you. you knew that this moment of passion would have consequences, consequences that could change the course of your lives forever. but for now, all you could do was lie there, wrapped in the arms of the man you loved, and hope that somehow, you could find a way out.

hansol stood silently behind the door, his heart pounding in his chest as he listened to the muffled sounds of your whispers and namjoon’s low voice. every word that reached his ears felt like a dagger twisting in his gut, a bitter confirmation of the betrayal he never imagined he would face. you were the woman he wanted, the woman he loved, and now namjoon was taking you from him. the realization sent a wave of anger and despair crashing over him, leaving him reeling.

his face twisted into a grimace, the bitterness in his heart hardening into resolve. he wasn’t going to lose you to namjoon, not to someone he viewed as a brother but who was now his rival in the cruelest of ways. hansol knew he had to act, to do something to stop this from happening. he needed to ensure that namjoon wouldn’t take you away, that you wouldn’t be lost to him.

with his mind set, hansol turned on his heel and made his way down the shadowed corridors of the palace, his footsteps echoing in the oppressive silence. he reached chaehee’s chambers, where the once-powerful king lay weak and frail, his body ravaged by the consequences of his own actions. the room was dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows across the walls.

hansol hesitated for a moment at the door, but the memory of what he had just heard pushed him forward. he entered quietly, his expression unreadable as he approached the bed where chaehee lay, his breath shallow and labored. “your majesty,” hansol began, his voice a low murmur, careful not to disturb the frail king too much. “i’ve come with news that you need to hear.”

chaehee’s eyes, glazed with pain and fatigue, flickered toward hansol. there was a moment of silence, the air thick with tension. finally, chaehee gave a faint nod, indicating for him to continue. “it’s about namjoon,” hansol said, his voice steady but laced with underlying tension. “he plans to marry nabi and take her away.”

for a moment, chaehee’s expression remained blank, as if the words didn’t quite register. then, slowly, a flicker of something—anger, perhaps—ignited in his dull eyes. his lips twitched, and he managed to whisper through the dryness of his throat, “that won’t happen.”

hansol’s brow furrowed in concern as he watched chaehee struggle to form the words. “your majesty, what is wrong? you don’t look well.” but chaehee didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out with a trembling hand and gestured weakly toward a nearby table. hansol followed the gesture and noticed a piece of paper and a quill, both items seemingly insignificant but now imbued with a sense of urgency. with great effort, chaehee pulled himself up just enough to take hold of the quill, his movements shaky and deliberate.

hansol watched in growing alarm as chaehee, his breathing labored, began to write on the piece of paper. the scratching of the quill against the parchment seemed to echo in the stillness of the room, a sound that seemed almost foreboding in its finality. hansol stepped closer, wanting to offer help, but something held him back—an instinct that told him this moment was too important to interrupt.

chaehee’s hand moved slowly, his writing growing more erratic as he struggled against his failing strength. his face was a mask of concentration, the last reserves of his willpower being channeled into this one act. hansol’s concern deepened as he noticed the king’s eyes growing more distant, as if he were slipping away even as he wrote.

and then, as if on cue, chaehee’s body gave out. the quill slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the table as his hand went limp. his body collapsed against the pillows, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. hansol rushed to his side, panic flaring in his chest as he reached out to support the king. “your majesty!” his voice was urgent, his hand shaking as he tried to rouse chaehee. but the king’s eyes were closed, his face pale and slick with sweat. the hallucinations that had plagued him, that had driven him to the edge, seemed to have claimed him at last.

hansol’s heart raced as he realized chaehee’s condition was far worse than he had imagined. but then, his eyes fell on the piece of paper, still resting on the table where chaehee had been writing. the ink was smudged in places, evidence of chaehee’s trembling hand, but the words were clear enough to read.

hansol’s breath caught in his throat as he read the contents of the note. It was a decree, hastily written but legally binding. the words declared namjoon as the next king, a title that would come with immense power and responsibility. but it was the second part of the note that made hansol’s blood run cold. chaehee had written that namjoon was to be married off to the khitan, a fate that would take him far from the palace, far from you.

hansol’s mind raced as he processed the implications. chaehee, even in his weakened state, had seen the threat that namjoon posed and had taken steps to neutralize it. but as hansol stood there, holding the fragile piece of parchment, a dark sense of satisfaction crept over him. namjoon would be taken care of—sent away, out of the picture. and you…you would be free from him, free to be with hansol as he had always wanted.

the air was heavy with tension as namjoon stood in the lit chamber, his heart pounding in his chest. the words hansol had just spoken reverberated in his mind, each syllable slicing through him like a blade. he felt as though the walls were closing in around him, the weight of his impending coronation and the marriage decree crushing his spirit. this was supposed to be the culmination of everything he had worked for, everything he had endured. but now, the path to the throne was stained with betrayal.

hansol’s expression was cold, calculated, as he watched namjoon grapple with the reality of what he had just been told. the two men stood facing each other, their silhouettes stark against the flickering candlelight, a silent battle of wills playing out between them.

“this isn’t what i want,” namjoon finally said, his voice strained but steady. “i have no desire to marry a girl from khitan. this was never part of my plan.” hansol’s lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. “these are the king’s last wishes, mamjoon. if you want to be crowned, you’ll have to honor them. there’s no way around it.”

namjoon’s jaw tightened as he clenched his fists at his sides. the weight of the crown he had sought for so long now felt like a shackle around his neck, dragging him into a fate he wanted no part of. “i already have someone i wish to marry,” he said, his voice low but firm, as though speaking the words aloud would somehow make them more real. hansol raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “oh? and who might that be?” his tone was laced with false curiosity, a venomous edge lurking beneath the surface.

namjoon met his gaze without flinching. “nabi. i want to marry nabi.”

there was a beat of silence, the air between them crackling with tension. hansol’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. instead, it was a twisted smirk, a reflection of the bitterness that had taken root in his heart. “you mean to say,” hansol began, his voice dripping with condescension, “that you’ve set your sights on the same woman i intended to marry?”

namjoon’s brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his features. “what are you talking about?” hansol chuckled darkly, the sound filled with a bitter satisfaction. he took a step closer, closing the distance between them. “she was mine first, namjoon. did you know that? before you came along and swept her off her feet, she was going to marry me. she was the one who held my heart.”

namjoon’s heart clenched, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. he had known there were others who cared for you, who admired you from afar. but hansol? the man he had considered a friend, a brother? he had never imagined that hansol had harbored feelings for you, let alone that he had planned to marry you.

“is that true?” namjoon asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he searched hansol’s face for any sign of deceit. hansol’s expression was unwavering, his eyes hard as steel. “it’s the truth,” he said simply, as if stating a fact that should have been obvious. “but then you came along, and everything changed. she forgot all about me, all about what we had. you took her from me.”

namjoon felt a cold knot of guilt form in the pit of his stomach. he had always known that his rise to power would come at a cost, that there would be sacrifices along the way. but this? he had never wanted to hurt hansol, never wanted to come between him and someone he cared about. the realization that he had unknowingly done just that twisted his insides in knots. he looked away, unable to meet hansol’s gaze. “i can't believe it,” namjoon said quietly, his voice thick with regret. “she liked you first.”

“it wouldn’t have mattered,” hansol interrupted, his voice sharp. “because she chose you. and now, you’re going to marry someone else.” namjoon’s breath caught in his throat, his mind reeling from the weight of hansol’s words. the betrayal, the anger, the hurt—it was all too much to bear. but what choice did he have? the crown, the throne, it was all within his grasp, and yet it felt like it was slipping away from him. the price of power was steep, and he was starting to realize just how much he would have to pay.

his face went stoic, the emotions that had been swirling inside him now buried deep beneath a mask of cold resolve. if this was what needed to be done to secure his future, then so be it. he would marry the girl from khitan. he would honor the late king’s wishes. and he would become the next king, no matter what it cost him. “fine,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion as he forced himself to meet hansol’s gaze. “proceed with the wedding.”

hansol’s eyes narrowed, the smirk on his lips returning. “as you wish, your majesty,” he said with a mock bow, his words laced with bitterness. but even as he spoke, a flicker of something else—something darker—passed over his face. satisfaction, perhaps, or the satisfaction of knowing that he had dealt a blow to namjoon that would leave another lasting scar.

the corridors of the palace felt colder, more oppressive, as you moved through them with a heaviness in your chest. it had been days since the intimate confrontation with namjoon, and his words still echoed in your mind, a constant reminder of the love shared between you. you had known this moment would come, but nothing could have prepared you for the intensity brought with it.

when you entered the chamber, you found namjoon waiting for you. he stood by the window, his back to you, his broad shoulders tense beneath his royal robes. the light from the setting sun cast long shadows across the floor, and the air was thick with unspoken words. for a moment, you hesitated, unsure if you should approach. but before you could make a decision, namjoon turned to face you, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—those dark, piercing eyes—were filled with a mixture of hurt and anger that made your heart lurch in your chest.

“is it true?” he asked, his voice low and strained, as though it pained him to speak. “is it true that you wanted to marry hansol?”

you opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. the truth was, you hadn’t expected him to find out. you hadn’t even been sure of your own feelings until it was too late. but now, with namjoon standing before you, the reality of the situation was impossible to avoid. “yes,” you whispered, the confession slipping out like a broken promise. “it’s true.”

namjoon’s expression hardened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. he took a step closer, his voice rising with barely restrained anger. “how could you do this to me? how could you hurt me like this?”

“i didn’t mean to—” you started, but namjoon cut you off, his voice trembling with emotion. “didn’t mean to? do you have any idea what you’ve done?” his eyes bore into yours, searching for answers you couldn’t give. “i thought you loved me. i thought we had a future together.”

your heart shattered at the accusation in his voice. you had loved him—still loved him, even now—but the tangled web of emotions and loyalties had twisted everything into a nightmare from which there seemed to be no escape. “i did love you,” you admitted, tears welling in your eyes. “i still do. but i was confused. hansol, he—”

“i don’t want to hear it,” namjoon snapped, turning away from you as though the sight of you was too painful to bear. “i don’t ever want to see you again.”

the finality in his words was like a knife to your heart. you reached out, desperate to touch him, to hold onto something of what you once had, but namjoon stepped back, his expression cold and distant. “please, namjoon,” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation. “don’t do this. we can—”

“it’s over,” he said sharply, cutting you off once more. “whatever we had, it’s over.” you stood there, frozen in place as namjoon walked out of the room, leaving you alone with the crushing weight of your own mistakes. the tears you had been holding back finally spilled over, and you collapsed onto the floor, your sobs echoing through the empty chamber.

days turned into weeks, and the pain of namjoon’s rejection lingered, festering like an open wound. despite your efforts to reach him, to explain, namjoon ignored you at every turn. he avoided your gaze, refused to acknowledge your presence, and any time you tried to speak with him, he would simply turn and walk away, leaving you feeling more alone than ever. then came the day of the wedding.

you stood in the crowd, watching with a hollow feeling in your chest as namjoon exchanged vows with the girl from khitan. she was beautiful, regal, everything a queen should be. but as you looked at her, all you could feel was a deep, aching sorrow, knowing that it should have been you standing beside namjoon, promising to be his for the rest of your life. you tried to force a smile, to show support, but the tears in your eyes betrayed your true feelings. and even as namjoon took his new bride’s hand and led her into the palace, he never once looked in your direction. you felt as though you were drowning, suffocating beneath the weight of your own heartache. but you swallowed it down, determined to find a way to move on, to survive the pain that threatened to consume you.

it wasn’t until a few weeks later that the first wave of nausea hit. you had been going about your duties, trying to distract yourself from the constant ache in your chest, when the world suddenly spun, and you had to clutch the edge of a table to keep from collapsing. the nausea was overwhelming, and before you knew it, you were rushing to the nearest chamber pot, heaving up everything you had eaten that morning.

at first, you dismissed it as nothing more than stress, a reaction to the emotional turmoil you had been enduring. but as the days went on, and the nausea continued, a new, terrifying realization began to take root in your mind. you were pregnant.

panic seized you, and for a long moment, you couldn’t breathe. the implications of this—of carrying namjoon’s child—were too overwhelming to process. you had no idea what to do, who to turn to. but then, one name came to mind, the only person you could trust with this secret.

your hands trembled as you sought him out, your heart pounding in your chest as you found him in one of the palace corridors. he turned to you with a smile, but the moment he saw the look on your face, his expression shifted to one of concern. “what’s wrong?” daniel asked, his voice gentle as he reached out to touch your arm.

you looked up at him, your eyes filled with fear and uncertainty. “i think i’m pregnant.”

for a moment, daniel was silent, his expression unreadable as he processed the news. but then, to your surprise, he pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms strong and comforting around you. “it’s gonna be okay,” he murmured, his voice soft and reassuring. “i’m here. i’ll help you through this.”

you clung to him, burying your face in his shoulder as the weight of your situation threatened to overwhelm you. his presence was like a lifeline, anchoring you in a storm of emotions you didn’t know how to navigate. “but what am i going to do?” you whispered, your voice trembling with fear. “should i tell namjoon?”

daniel hesitated, then slowly shook his head. “no. he just got married. if you tell him now, it’ll only make things worse. people will think you’re a wench, something awful could happen.” the truth in his words stung, but you knew he was right. if word got out that you were carrying namjoon’s child, it would be a scandal of epic proportions, one that could ruin not just your life, but namjoon’s as well.

“then what should i do?” you asked, desperation creeping into your voice. daniel looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and resolve. “you’ll have to marry someone else,” he said quietly. “pretend the baby is theirs.”

the very thought of it made your heart ache. the idea of marrying someone else, of lying about the child growing inside you, was almost too much to bear. but what choice did you have? there was no other way to protect yourself, to protect namjoon. “who?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “who could i marry?”

daniel’s gaze was steady, but you could see the pain in his eyes as he spoke the next words. “marry me.”

your breath caught in your throat, your eyes widening in surprise. of all the people you had considered, daniel had never been one of them. he was your friend, your confidant, but you had never thought of him in that way. and yet, as you looked into his eyes, you saw the depth of his feelings for you, feelings he had kept hidden for so long. “daniel,” you began, but he shook his head, silencing you with a gentle smile.

“it’s okay,” he said softly. “i’ve cared about you for a long time. if this is the only way i can be with you, then I’m willing to do it.”

tears welled in your eyes as you stared at him, overwhelmed by his selflessness, by the depth of his love for you. and in that moment, you knew there was no one else you could trust more. you threw your arms around him, holding him tight as the tears finally spilled over. “thank you,” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. “thank you so much.”

he held you close, his arms strong and comforting around you. so good did it feel for him, to finally embrace the woman everybody seemed to love. he knew you didn't love him but, in your embrace, it didn't seem to matter. it didn't seem to hurt as much as he thought it would. he could accept everything—your child, namjoon's anger, hansol's resentment. he could take it all, if it meant he could take you.

the palace was quiet in the late afternoon light, the golden rays filtering through the tall windows and casting soft shadows on the polished floors. it was a peace that was deceptive, a calm that masked the turbulent emotions brewing just beneath the surface. namjoon sat at his desk, staring down at a map of the kingdom, but his mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts he couldn’t escape. the lines on the map blurred as his mind wandered, his focus slipping away as a dull ache settled in his chest.

it had been weeks since he had last seen you, weeks that felt like an eternity. he had tried to push you from his mind, to drown himself in the duties of the court, but nothing could erase the memory of your confession, of the way you had looked at him with tears in your eyes as you admitted the truth. the pain of that moment was still fresh, a wound that refused to heal, and no matter how much he tried to bury it, it continued to gnaw at him, a constant reminder of what he had lost.

the door to his chambers creaked open, and namjoon barely registered the sound. he was too lost in his thoughts, too consumed by the weight of his own heartbreak. but when he heard the familiar voice of hansol, he slowly lifted his gaze, his expression guarded. “your highness,” hansol greeted, stepping into the room with a grim expression. he closed the door behind him, his movements slow and deliberate as if he were bracing himself for something unpleasant. “i have news.”

namjoon’s heart sank at the tone in hansol’s voice. there was a heaviness to it that made his chest tighten with unease, but he forced himself to remain composed, to keep his emotions in check. “what is it?” he asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil churning inside him. hansol hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering away from namjoon as if he were unsure how to proceed. but then he straightened, his expression hardening as he delivered the news.

“nabi and daniel are getting married.” the words struck namjoon like a fatal blow, the air leaving his lungs in a sharp exhale. his grip on the edge of the desk tightened, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to maintain his composure. he had known this was coming. he had known the moment he had walked away from you that this would be the inevitable outcome. but hearing it spoken aloud, hearing the finality in hansol’s voice, made it all too real.

he felt something break inside him, a part of himself that had been holding on to hope, now shattered into a thousand pieces. but he couldn’t show it. he couldn’t let hansol see how much this news was destroying him from the inside out. “i don’t want any further updates,” namjoon said, his voice cold and distant, a mask of indifference that he had perfected over the years. he couldn’t bear to hear any more, couldn’t bear to know the details of your life with daniel. it was too much, too painful to even think about.

hansol didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say next. namjoon’s eyes flickered up to meet his, and he saw the hesitation, the reluctance in hansol’s gaze. “there’s more,” hansol said slowly, his voice tinged with something that made namjoon’s heart begin to race. “she’s pregnant.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and oppressive, and for a moment, Namjoon felt like the ground had been ripped out from beneath him. his mind went blank, the world around him fading into nothingness as the realization hit him like a tidal wave. pregnant.

it was a simple word, but it carried with it a weight that namjoon wasn’t sure he could bear. his breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to process what hansol had just told him. pregnant. you were pregnant. with his brother’s child. but even as the thought crossed his mind, namjoon felt a deep, instinctual denial rise within him. he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the child wasn’t daniel’s. it was his. he had always known, deep down, that you carried his child. but that knowledge brought no comfort, only a profound sense of despair.

he forced himself to remain silent, his expression giving nothing away even as his world crumbled around him. he had to hold it together, had to keep up the facade of indifference, no matter how much it tore him apart inside. “is there anything else?” he asked, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion. hansol’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if searching namjoon’s face for any sign of a reaction, but he found none. after a moment, he shook his head. “no, your highness. that’s all.”

namjoon nodded curtly, signaling that the conversation was over. hansol hesitated for a moment longer, as if he wanted to say something more, but when namjoon remained silent, he gave a small bow and left the room, closing the door behind him. the moment hansol was gone, namjoon let out a shaky breath, his composure finally crumbling as the full weight of what he had just heard settled over him. he clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to keep the tears at bay. But it was no use. the pain was too much, the heartbreak too overwhelming.

he stood there, staring blankly at the map on his desk, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. he couldn’t stop thinking about you, about the child you carried. his child. and yet, he had no claim to either of you. he had lost you, lost everything, and now he was left with nothing but the hollow ache in his chest. despite his resolve to move on, to forget, namjoon couldn’t help but think of the days you had spent by the stream, waiting for him. he knew you had sent him letters, countless letters that remained unopened, sitting in a drawer in his chambers. he couldn’t bring himself to read them, couldn’t bring himself to face the reality of what he had lost. but every time he thought of you waiting for him by the stream, hope in your eyes, it tore him apart all over again. and then, there was the birth of your child.

namjoon heard the news through the palace gossip, the whispers of servants and courtiers that reached his ears despite his attempts to shut it all out. you had given birth to a baby girl, a beautiful little girl who, by all accounts, looked just like him. the thought of it made his heart ache in a way that was almost unbearable. he could picture her in his mind, a tiny, innocent child with his features, a child who would never know him as her father. it was a pain that cut deeper than anything he had ever known, a wound that would never heal.

and yet, despite everything, he couldn’t bring himself to see you. he couldn’t bring himself to open the letters, to go to the stream where you had waited for him, to acknowledge the life that was now a part of this world. it was easier to pretend that none of it existed, easier to bury the pain deep inside where no one could see it. but that didn’t stop the nights from being long and sleepless, didn’t stop the dreams that haunted him, the dreams of a life that could have been. a life where he was with you, where you were by his side, and where your daughter knew him as her father. a life that had been ripped away from him the moment he had let you go.

you held your newborn daughter in your arms, your heart full of a bittersweet love. she was perfect, with her tiny fingers and soft, downy hair, and when you looked into her eyes, you saw namjoon’s reflection staring back at you. it was a reminder of the love that had once burned so brightly between you, a love that had now faded into nothingness. but despite the pain, despite the heartache that lingered in your chest, you found solace in the presence of your daughter, in the way daniel held her with such care, his love for her as strong as if she were his own. he had taken on the role of her father without hesitation, without question, and for that, you were endlessly grateful.

yet, every time you looked at your daughter, every time you saw the way she smiled up at you with namjoon’s eyes, a part of you couldn’t help but wonder what might have been. what your life could have been like if things had been different. but you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the present, on the life you had now. it wasn’t the one you had dreamed of, but it was a life you could live with.

the days had become a blur of pain and exhaustion, your body growing weaker with each passing moment. the fever had set in shortly after the birth, your strength sapped as your body struggled to recover. you had given so much, poured everything you had into bringing namjoon’s child into the world, but now there was nothing left. the room around you seemed to swim in and out of focus, the walls closing in as the sickness took hold.

daniel stayed by your side, his presence a constant source of comfort even as the reality of your situation weighed heavily on him. he was the only one who truly understood, the only one who saw just how close to the edge you were. he watched you with a heart full of sorrow, his eyes tracing the pallor of your skin, the tremor in your hands. you were slipping away, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

as the last of the daylight faded from the sky, daniel stood at the foot of your bed, his gaze fixed on you as you lay there, so fragile and pale. he had promised to watch over you, to stay with you through whatever came, but the sight of you like this—so close to death—was almost more than he could bear. his heart ached with a pain he couldn’t put into words, a pain that only grew with each shallow breath you took. he turned away, unable to watch you suffer any longer, and as he did, the tears he had been holding back slipped from his eyes. how cruel was fate, to give him everything he had ever wanted—if only for a fleeting moment—only to snatch it away? he had loved you with every part of himself, had dreamed of a life where you and the child you had brought into the world would be his to cherish. but now, that dream was fading, slipping through his fingers like sand.

you knew the end was close, felt it in the way your body had begun to fail you, in the heaviness that weighed down your limbs, in the way each breath came a little harder than the last. the fever had taken its toll, and you were too weak to fight it any longer. you knew it would all soon be over, that the life you had known, the love you had shared, was slipping away. but there was one thing left to do.

with what little strength you had left, you forced yourself to sit up, your vision swimming as you did. every movement was agony, every breath a struggle, but you pushed through it, knowing that this would be your final act. your hands shook as you reached for the quill and parchment that sat on the table beside your bed, the ink blotting as you dipped the quill and began to write. it was a simple letter, the words coming slowly, each one a battle to put down on the page. but you wrote with a determination born of love, knowing that this was the last chance you would have to say what needed to be said. the words blurred in front of you as tears filled your eyes, but you pressed on, your hand trembling as you scrawled your final message.

when you were done, you could barely breathe, your chest tight with the effort it had taken to finish the letter. you called out weakly, your voice barely more than a whisper, and a guard appeared at the door, his face softening with sympathy as he took in the sight of you. you handed him the letter, your fingers trembling as you did. “please,” you whispered, your voice so weak it was almost inaudible. “make sure it’s delivered.”

the guard nodded, his expression full of pity as he took the letter from you. “of course, my lady,” he said softly, his voice tinged with sorrow. he knew, just as you did, that this would be the last letter you ever wrote.

with that final task complete, you felt a strange sense of peace settle over you. the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders, the pain and the fear ebbing away, leaving only a profound sense of exhaustion. you knew the end was near, but you weren’t afraid. not anymore.

you managed to push yourself up from the bed, your body trembling with the effort, and made your way slowly to the door. daniel was sitting on the steps outside, his head in his hands, the weight of his grief pressing down on him. when he heard your footsteps, he looked up, his eyes widening in shock as he saw you standing there, so frail and weak, but still fighting. he rose to his feet as you approached, his heart breaking at the sight of you. he could see it in your eyes, the knowledge that the end was near, that there was nothing left to fight for. and yet, you had come to him, had found the strength to leave your bed, to be with him one last time.

you sank down beside him on the steps, your body sagging with exhaustion, and rested your head on his shoulder. he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close, his heart aching with a pain that was almost unbearable. he could feel how cold you were, how weak your breathing had become, and it took everything in him not to break down right then and there.

“are you really leaving me like this?” daniel asked, his voice choked with emotion as he leaned his head against the top of yours. he knew the answer, could see it in your eyes, but he needed to hear it, needed you to say it out loud, even if it would tear him apart. you couldn’t respond, your throat too tight with emotion, the tears that slipped from your eyes too painful to bear. you could only cry, the tears staining his fingers as he held you close, his heart breaking with every sob that wracked your frail body.

“will you forget me?” daniel’s voice broke as he asked the question, the words tinged with a desperation that cut you to the core. “when you’re gone, will you forget me?” you shook your head weakly, your voice barely more than a whisper as you answered, “i could never forget you. not even in my dreams, not even in death.”

the words were almost too much for him to bear, and he choked back a sob as he pressed his face into your hair, his tears soaking the strands. he had always known this day would come, had always known that the time he had with you would be fleeting, but that didn’t make it any easier. it didn’t make the pain any less. “i’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of your apology. “i’m so sorry. it’s too much. i can’t stay.”

your eyes were growing heavy, the world around you beginning to fade as the exhaustion took hold. you could feel the darkness creeping in, the edges of your vision blurring as you struggled to stay awake, to stay with him just a little longer. daniel felt the change in you, felt the way your body was growing limp against him, and he knew that the end was near. he had known it was coming, had seen it in your eyes, but now that it was here, now that he was about to lose you, the pain was almost too much to bear.

with trembling hands, he began to sing, his voice soft and broken as he sang the same song you had sung to him when baekhyun had died. it was a lullaby, a song of love and loss, of comfort in the face of unbearable pain. and as the words left his lips, he could feel you slipping away, your body growing heavier, your breathing more shallow. he had sent the firefly from that day, to your window, hoping you'd have sweet dreams. a final tear slipped from your eyes, trailing down your cheek as you let out one last breath. the world went black, the pain and the fear fading away as you sank into the darkness, your head resting on daniel’s lap as the life left your body.

daniel’s voice faltered as he felt you go, his heart breaking as he realized that you were gone. he cradled your lifeless body in his arms, the tears streaming down his face as he pressed his lips to your hair, his voice breaking as he whispered your name. but there was no response, no warmth left in your body, no breath left in your lungs. you were gone, and all that was left was the hollow ache of loss, the unbearable weight of grief that would stay with him for the rest of his life.

hansol walked the halls of the palace with a heaviness in his steps, each one dragging more than the last. his heart weighed down with a sorrow that he couldn't begin to express. his normally sharp and composed demeanor was nowhere to be seen, replaced instead by a broken expression that seemed to drain the color from his face. every breath felt like a struggle as he made his way to namjoon’s chambers, the words he would soon have to say churning in his gut like poison.

when he reached the door, he hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering above the wooden surface. he wasn’t sure how to begin, how to tell namjoon the news that would shatter his world. but there was no delaying it, no way to soften the blow. the truth had to be told. with a trembling hand, hansol pushed the door open and stepped inside. namjoon was sitting at his desk, his attention focused on some documents, the soft glow of candlelight casting long shadows across the room. the moment namjoon saw hansol’s face, he knew something was wrong.

“what is it now, hansol?” he asked, his voice edged with irritation, though there was an undercurrent of concern that he couldn't hide. he set down his quill, eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of hansol’s distraught expression.

hansol didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he walked slowly toward namjoon, his legs feeling like they might give out at any moment. when he was only a few paces away, he dropped to his knees, the sound of his knees hitting the floor echoing through the chamber. namjoon’s irritation evaporated in an instant, replaced by alarm. “hansol?” his voice was softer now, a hint of fear creeping in as he leaned forward, trying to see his face. “what’s the matter? what happened?”

it was then that hansol broke down, the tears he had been holding back finally spilling over as he knelt there, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. he couldn’t bring himself to speak, couldn’t bring himself to look up at namjoon as the weight of his grief overwhelmed him.

“hansol, speak to me,” namjoon’s voice rose in panic as he stood, moving toward his friend. “what’s going on? why are you crying?” hansol forced himself to look up, his tear-streaked face contorted with agony. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. he took a shuddering breath, trying to gather the strength to say what needed to be said.

“nabi’s gone,” he finally whispered, his voice broken. “she’s dead, namjoon.”

namjoon froze, the words not registering at first. he stared down at hansol, his mind reeling as he tried to comprehend what he had just heard. “what?” namjoon’s voice was barely a whisper, his eyes wide with disbelief. “that’s not possible. you’re lying.”

hansol shook his head, his tears falling freely now. “i’m not lying, namjoon. she’s gone. she died after giving birth. she was too weak, she couldn’t—she didn’t make it.”

namjoon’s world shattered in that moment. everything he had been living for, everything he had pushed aside, everything he had convinced himself he could endure—it all crumbled into dust. his chest tightened as if the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving him gasping, struggling to breathe. “why didn’t you tell me?” his voice was raw, his eyes wide with a mix of horror and anger. “why didn’t anyone tell me?”

hansol’s gaze fell to the floor, his voice filled with guilt. “she tried, namjoon. she wrote to you, every day—so many letters, but you never opened them.”

namjoon’s breath caught in his throat as he slowly turned his gaze to the stack of unopened letters on his desk. his heart raced, and his hands trembled as he reached out, touching the letters as if they were some fragile thing that might shatter beneath his fingers. he picked up the top letter, his name written in your familiar handwriting, and his vision blurred as tears welled up in his eyes. his hands shook as he held the letter, knowing that inside were words you had written, words you had meant for him—words he had never read.

he didn’t even bother to open it. the realization hit him like a ton of bricks, and he dropped the letter, pushing away from the desk as if it had burned him. panic gripped him, and without another word, he ran from the room, his mind racing. he didn’t stop as he tore through the halls of the palace, the walls blurring around him as he sprinted toward daniel’s house. his heart pounded in his chest, every beat echoing in his ears as he burst through the door, his voice hoarse with desperation.

“where is she?” namjoon called out, his eyes wild with panic as he looked around the empty room. “where is she? this isn’t funny! nabi, where are you?”

daniel appeared in the doorway, his face etched with sorrow as he watched namjoon’s frantic search. he knew this moment would come, knew that namjoon would finally learn the truth. but that didn’t make it any easier to see the man he once called his brother unravel before his eyes. “you’re too late,” daniel said softly, his voice heavy with grief. “she’s gone, namjoon. there’s nothing left.”

“no,” namjoon’s voice was a tortured cry as he turned on his brother, his fists clenched at his sides. “she can’t be gone. she’s here—i know she’s here. where is she?” daniel’s heart broke at the sight of his desperation, but he knew there was no other way to show him the truth. with a deep breath, he stepped aside, revealing the small urn on the table, filled with your ashes.

namjoon’s world came crashing down around him. the room seemed to tilt, the walls closing in as he stared at the vase, the reality of your death hitting him with the force of a tidal wave. he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything but the overwhelming grief that tore through him.

“no,” namjoon’s voice cracked as he staggered forward, his legs nearly giving out beneath him. he collapsed to his knees before the table, his hands trembling as he reached out, cradling the vase in his arms. “please, no.” he hugged the vase to his chest, his tears falling freely as he rocked back and forth, his heart shattering into a million pieces. he called out your name, his voice broken and desperate, as if somehow, by saying it enough times, he could bring you back.

but there was no response. there was only silence, the cold, empty silence that followed death, and namjoon felt as if the very life had been drained from him. he had lost you—he had lost everything. as he wept, the sound of small footsteps echoed through the room. a little girl, no more than a few months old, toddled into the living room, her eyes wide with curiosity. she looked up at namjoon, her innocent face a mirror of his own, and in that moment, he knew. she looked just like him.

“where’s mommy?” the little girl asked, her voice soft and full of innocence as she stared up at namjoon with wide eyes. his breath caught in his throat, the sight of the child twisting the knife of grief even deeper. he couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words to explain that you were gone, that you would never come back. all he could do was stare at her, his heart breaking all over again.

“she’s sick,” namjoon finally choked out, his voice barely more than a whisper as he looked at the little girl, tears streaming down his face. the little girl didn’t understand. she didn’t know what death was, didn’t know what it meant for someone to be gone forever. all she knew was that her mother wasn’t there, and she wanted to find her.

namjoon couldn’t bear it. the grief, the guilt, the regret—it all became too much. he stood up shakily, still clutching the vase of ashes, and stumbled toward the door. he couldn’t stay there, couldn’t face the reality of what had happened. daniel watched him go, his own heart breaking at the sight of namjoon’s devastation. he knew there was nothing he could do to ease the pain, nothing he could say to make it better. all he could do was watch as namjoon was escorted back to the palace by his own guards, his body wracked with sobs that wouldn’t stop.

namjoon couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t stop the tears from falling as he was led away. the weight of your death, the knowledge that he had lost you forever, was more than he could bear. he had lost you, lost the woman he loved, and all he had left was a daughter who would never know her father. and as he walked through the gates of the palace, the walls closing in around him, namjoon knew that he would never be the same. the grief would stay with him, haunting him for the rest of his days, a reminder of what he had lost, of the love he had let slip through his fingers.

the palace walls seemed to close in on namjoon as he sat at his desk, the unopened letters scattered around him like the remnants of a shattered life. the room, once a sanctuary of order and purpose, now felt like a prison, every shadow a reminder of his failures, every flickering candle a ghost of the past. the urn of your ashes rested beside him, a constant, suffocating reminder of the life he had lost—the life he had thrown away.

his trembling hands reached for the first letter, the paper crinkling slightly as he unfolded it. he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think as he stared down at your familiar handwriting, the words blurring as tears filled his eyes. he had ignored these letters for so long, had turned his back on you when you needed him most, and now, it was too late. the weight of his guilt pressed down on him, making it almost impossible to read, but he forced himself to go on.

“my dearest namjoon,” the letter began, and his breath caught in his throat, a sob choking its way up as he read the words. he could read every word in your voice, as if you were still there, reading them to him. “i went to the stream again today, hoping that maybe this time, you would come. but you didn’t. you never do.”

each word cut through him like a knife, the pain of it almost unbearable. he could picture you there, waiting for him by the stream, your heart breaking a little more each day as he failed to show. the image of you standing there alone, waiting for a man who would never come, tore at his soul. his chest tightened, the sobs bubbling up from deep within, uncontrollable, unstoppable.

“i don’t know why i keep going,” the letter continued, the ink slightly smudged as if you had cried while writing it. “i suppose i keep hoping that one day, you’ll remember me, that you’ll remember what we had and come back to me. but i’m starting to lose hope, namjoon. i’m starting to think that maybe you’ve already forgotten me.”

namjoon’s heart broke anew with each word, his tears falling onto the paper, blurring the ink further. he couldn’t bear it, couldn’t stand the thought that you had believed he had forgotten you, when in truth, you had never left his mind. he had tried to push you away, tried to convince himself that he didn’t need you, that he was better off without you—but it had all been a lie. and now, it was too late to tell you the truth. he picked up the next letter, his hands shaking so badly that he nearly dropped it. his sobs grew louder as he read, your words searing into his mind, leaving scars that would never heal.

“today was the hardest day yet,” you had written, the sadness in your words palpable. “i waited for hours by the stream, but you never came. i don’t know why i keep torturing myself like this, why i keep hoping for something that will never happen. but i can’t help it, your majesty. i can’t help but love you.”

the sobs wracked his body, his chest heaving with the force of his grief. he had done this to you—he had made you wait, made you suffer, and for what? for a throne that felt meaningless now, for power that had brought him nothing but pain. he had been a fool, blinded by ambition, and now, he was paying the price. letter after letter, he read about your heartbreak, your loneliness, your unending love for him despite everything. with each word, the guilt crushed him further, the tears flowing freely down his face, soaking the pages. he couldn’t stop reading, couldn’t stop the agony that tore through him as he realized just how deeply he had hurt you.

finally, he reached the last letter, the one dated for today. his hands shook violently as he unfolded it, his breath hitching in his throat. he didn’t want to read it—he couldn’t bear to—but he had to. It was the last thing you had ever written to him, and he owed you that much.

“if you are reading this, i am dead.”

the words hit him like a sledgehammer, and he let out a strangled cry, his vision going black at the edges as the reality of your death crashed over him. his hands clutched the paper so tightly that it crumpled beneath his fingers, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t tear his eyes away from the words you had left behind.

“is that what it takes to get you to read my letters? i was weak, i was the opposite of you. you were strong enough to walk away, to claim the throne. was it everything you've ever wanted? was it not enough, claiming my heart? i worry that i left you with hatred, instead of love.”

namjoon shook his head, the sobs ripping through him with a force that made his entire body shake. he hadn’t walked away because he was strong—he had walked away because he was a coward. he had been too afraid to face his feelings, too afraid to admit that he couldn’t live without you. and now, he would never get the chance to tell you that.

“i still love you. how could i ever forget you? hansol knows it, my husband knows it—everybody knows it, except you.”

the guilt was suffocating, the weight of his own blindness crushing him beneath it. you had loved him, despite everything, despite the pain he had caused you, and he had been too blind to see it. he had been so focused on his own ambitions, his own desires, that he had lost the one thing that truly mattered.

“i've learned that the opposite of loving isn't hating, but leaving. why do i wait by the stream, when i know you won't be there? why do I curse the stars for this fate, when it's the moon we are under? why do i love you, when it's you who has left me?”

namjoon could barely see the words through his tears, the paper blurring as his sobs grew louder, more desperate. he had left you—he had left you all alone to bear the burden of his absence, and now, he would have to live with that knowledge for the rest of his life. the realization cut deeper than any blade, the pain of it almost unbearable.

“and now, i have to leave you. i have to leave you with the burden of having loved me.”

the sobs that tore through him were unlike anything he had ever experienced before, a raw, primal pain that echoed through the empty room. he cried your name, over and over, as if somehow, by saying it enough times, he could bring you back. but there was no response, no comfort to be found in the cold, empty air. the world around him fell away, leaving only the agony of your loss, the regret that would haunt him for the rest of his days. he had lost you—lost the one person who had ever truly loved him—and now, he was left with nothing but the ashes of what could have been.

he clutched the letter to his chest, his sobs filling the room as he rocked back and forth, the grief consuming him, tearing him apart piece by piece. he had lost you, and now, he would have to live with that pain, that regret, for the rest of his life. and as he cried, as he mourned the life he had thrown away, the only comfort he could find was the knowledge that, no matter what, you would always be nearby, under the moon.

you woke up with a start, your heart pounding against your ribcage as if trying to escape. the familiar sound of chatter and the hum of fluorescent lights overhead brought you back to reality—or what you thought was reality. you were back at work, standing behind the counter of your cosmetics shop in the bustling mall. the air was filled with the scent of lavender and rosewater, the carefully curated aroma of your traditionally made products. your hands moved automatically, arranging the small glass jars and wooden containers, but your mind was elsewhere, still trapped in the vivid memories of a life that felt too real to be a dream.

it was all too clear in your mind—the palace, the sweeping hanboks, the chilling touch of power and betrayal. you could still feel the weight of the crown on namjoon’s head, the sadness in daniel’s eyes, the coldness of the floor as you lay dying in his arms. the memories were so vivid, so heartbreakingly real, that it was hard to believe they weren’t your reality. you looked around the shop, expecting to see the grandeur of the royal palace, the opulence of a bygone era. but all you saw were customers milling about, people asking questions about the products, children tugging at their parents’ sleeves. there was no daniel, no namjoon, just the mundane, everyday life you had always known—or thought you had known.

“excuse me, do you know who the fourth king was?” a woman’s voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. she stood across the counter, examining a jar of cream with a polite curiosity, her eyes waiting expectantly for your answer.

you blinked, her question echoing in your mind as the memories surged forward, relentless. the name that came to your lips was not just a fact from history but a name that carried the weight of love, betrayal, and loss. your eyes widened, filling with unshed tears as the name slipped out, barely above a whisper. “gwangjong, kim namjoon.” the woman’s brows furrowed in concern, her voice softening. “are you okay?” but you couldn’t answer, couldn’t stay there any longer.

the walls of the mall felt like they were closing in on you, the faces around you blurring into one indistinguishable mass. you mumbled an apology, your voice trembling as you excused yourself, the jar of cream left abandoned on the counter. you stumbled out from behind the counter, your feet carrying you down the endless rows of displays, each step growing heavier as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

was it all a dream? a cruel trick played by your subconscious? or was it something more, something you couldn’t quite grasp? you ran a hand through your hair, your fingers trembling as they brushed against your scalp. you could still feel the coldness of namjoon’s touch, the warmth of his embrace, the pain that had clawed at your heart as you left him behind. the world around you spun, the bustling mall fading into the background as your mind struggled to reconcile the two realities. and then you saw it.

the sign loomed above you, its letters bold and unyielding: “songak art display.” your breath hitched, your heart skipping a beat as you stared at the sign, disbelief washing over you in waves. your feet moved on their own, carrying you inside as if drawn by an invisible force, by something deep within you that needed answers, that needed closure. the gallery was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of the mall outside. the walls were lined with paintings, each one a window into a world long gone, yet eerily familiar. your eyes roamed over the art, your heart thudding painfully in your chest as you searched for something—anything—that could explain what was happening to you. and then you found it.

a painting, large and imposing, hung in the center of the room, its colors dark and foreboding. the scene was one you knew all too well, one that had haunted your dreams and your waking hours alike. the execution of baekhyun, captured in painful detail. his eyes, wide with fear and regret, his hands bound, his body broken. the crowd surrounding him, their faces twisted in a mixture of sorrow and anger. you remembered it all—remembered the blood, the tears, the sound of the blade as it descended, cutting through the air with a finality that still echoed in your soul.

you stumbled back, your hand flying to your mouth as a sob tore its way out of your throat. it wasn’t just a painting—it was a memory, a fragment of a life that you had lived, that you had lost. you turned, your eyes scanning the gallery in a frantic search for something familiar, for something that could anchor you in this madness. and there they were.

king taejo and queen jiyoung, their regal figures immortalized in paint, their expressions as stern and unwavering as you remembered. you could almost hear their voices, the weight of their authority pressing down on you, demanding loyalty, demanding sacrifice. your legs gave out, and you sank to your knees in front of the paintings, the tears streaming down your face as you sobbed, apologizing to nobody and nothing, the grief and guilt tearing through you like a storm. and then you saw him.

his face, so familiar, so heartbreakingly familiar, stared back at you from the canvas. kim namjoon, the fourth king, gwangjong. the man who had sacrificed everything for his brothers, who had grown up as a wolf and learned to be human. the man who had claimed your heart, only to break it. the plaque beneath the painting confirmed it, the words blurring through your tears as you read them. “kim namjoon, fourth king gwangjong. sacrificed everything for his brothers. grew up as a wolf, learned to be human. purge.”

you stared into his painted eyes, your heart breaking all over again as you whispered his name, the apology spilling from your lips as if he could hear you, as if he could somehow forgive you. “i'm so sorry,” you managed through your tears. “i'm so sorry for leaving you.” the world around you disappeared, leaving only you and the man you had loved, the man you had lost. the sobs wracked your body, your tears soaking the floor as you clung to the memory of him, to the memory of what you had shared, what you had lost. and then, a gentle tap on your shoulder brought you back to the present, pulling you out of the past that had consumed you.

you turned, your vision still blurred with tears, to see a man standing before you, his expression concerned, his hand outstretched with a tissue. for a moment, you didn’t recognize him, didn’t see past the veil of your grief. your breath caught in your throat, your heart skipping a beat as you stared at him, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

you didn't recognize him. perhaps, not at first. not until you saw the scar. right across his eye.

✧.*

a/n: stop i lowkey cried LOL i didn't use the aired ending of scarlet heart tho bc i'm not a sociopath?

“ballads are boring,” so close! ur favs cant sing! try stanning shinee instead

i ripped my lip but ts kinda giving da vinci ngl

can't decide how i'm feeling today i'm stuck between noona neomu yeppeo and bling bling is jonghyun dibidibidis

the military done untwinkified jimin this is absolutely wild

im tryna fuck you and ur bestie or wtv offset said

horror shorts, rich guy poor girl, police, rich guy rich girl, college, high school, underground boxing, street racing, mafia, korean dynasty, post apocalyptic, mental institution, fatal illness, sociopath jaehyun, dancers fucking, assassins fucking, fucking a demon, fucking a ghost, treasure hunting, step-siblings, poor guy poor girl, red flag jungkook, ceo and secretary, murderers fucking, doctors fucking, teacher and student....i've done it all. like what do i write anymore i'm so???