Kim Namjoon Fluff - Tumblr Posts

Obligated

Author: @underthejoon as a part of the Bound series with @kpopfanfictrash 

Creative Content Contributor: @baebae-goodnight (her mood boards are amazing - like all the damn time)

Rating: M - explicit sex, cursing, drinking

Word Count: 6k

Summary:  Married by obligation, weighed down by circumstance. Except for those nights when you’re both drunk, falling into bed with one another and realizing you’re human. Occasionally this happens, occasionally you fuck. Until your life changes and you realize Namjoon, the very man you’re obligated to, might just be the very man that you crave.

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Maid To Be

Genre: Regency AU, slight friends to lovers

Pairing: Namjoon/Named Reader

Warnings: Accidental groping, awkward Joon, a little cringe at times but in a cute way

Synopsis: Marriage wasn’t something you thought about much as a maid. You knew you would end up wherever your mistress, Dorothea, did. Despite the encouragement of your employers, you planned to live your life as Dorothea’s maid forever. When her attractive cousins come to visit, you can’t help but notice how much they’ve changed.

Note: A continuation to “Rabbit Hunting” and part of my larger Regency AU series of one shots.

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"Miss Cooke!" Mrs. Kim called from the entrance parlor. You dropped the duster and rushed out to the main parlor where the elder Miss Kim, a basket full of wildflowers and her hair and absolute mess. "Please help Thea dress for supper tonight. It seems she couldn't keep her composure during one simple outing."

Dorothea rolled her eyes and headed towards the room, dropping the wildflowers off on the table near the door. She seemed to have a dreamy look in her eyes. The elder sister was always prone to fantasies--both Kim sisters were in fact--but there was something different about the glaze over her eyes. If you didn't know any better, you would guess this wasn't just any morning walk.

"Oh, Miss Cooke what am I going to do with that girl? It'll be a miracle if I can find a gentleman to marry her. A gentleman is more likely to fall for a maid like you than a girl like her, even with her breeding!"

"Oh, Mrs. Kim, I'm sure that's not true," you said, ignoring Mrs. Kim's slight on your station. She hadn't meant any offense, but you still felt like you'd been punched in the stomach. "Any man would be lucky to marry either of your daughters. Now, would you like me to send for some tea? Maybe that will help you relax before we have out visitors."

"That sounds lovely, Miss Cooke."

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"Oh Eliza, he was so infuriating! Insulting our sex and then suddenly changing his mind! And, I don't even know what favor he wanted to ask me!" You tightened Dorothea's corset causing the last syllable to come out a slightly higher pitch.

"Yet, you're still hoping there'll be a ball so that you can dance with him." You raised your eyebrow as the girl turned around and you helped her into her dress. Dorothea blushed. The girl was a couple years younger than you and you'd been with her family so long that the Kim sisters felt more like your younger sisters than your mistresses.

"Well, it would be improper of me to turn him down if he asks." You laughed and Dorothea soon joined you.

"Your mother will be thrilled. If he's interested that is," you said. "It sounds like he's a suitable gentleman. Considering he's friends with your cousins."

"I can only hope," Dorothea said. "Who knows, maybe there will be a gentleman for you?" She nudged your side lightly as she sat down at her vanity and allowed you to brush your hair. You brushed it out and braided it back into a bun in a way that flattered her face.

"Oh, don't be silly, Thea," you said. "A gentleman would never look my way. And, even if they did, they would know it's improper."

"Maybe you'll find one that doesn't care about propriety. If my memory serves me correctly, didn't you and my cousin, Seokjin, have a flirtation the last time they visited?"

You laughed. "Seokjin and I are simply a friendly flirtation. We are good friends, that's all Thea. The man is a natural flirt and I like to tease him about it."

"Oh, wouldn't it be marvelous if you married one of my cousins! We'd be cousins then, Eliza!"

"Thea, you know I will go to whatever estate you end up the Lady of. I will never leave you."

"Oh Eliza, I hope you meet a rich gentleman, so you don't have to be a maid anymore."

"I like being a maid."

Dorothea looked at you like a forlorn puppy, and huffed slightly. After a few moments of taking in your figure, her face lit up and she told you wait there for a moment. When she came back she carried a small bundle of wildflowers, she held a few up against your hair before sliding a violet colored flower behind your ear.

"Please wear it while you serve supper," Eliza said. "I wish you could eat with us."

"Your mother is already kind with allowing the staff to eat the nice food that you and the gentlemen eat. Don't worry about me, worry about wooing Mr. Jeon tonight."

The mention of the gentleman's name caused the girl to become dreamy once again. She sat down at her vanity and began to put the finishing touches on her look.

"Now, don't do anything too strenuous that will ruin your hair. Your mother will blame me this time."

The girl nodded and left the room to work on the centerpieces. As you worked, you remembered the last time the Kim brothers visited. They were much younger, Seokjin being the only one who was close to marrying age. You'd heard he, too, hadn't married. You'd had a girlish crush on the eldest brother, so much so, that you only had a few memories of the two younger ones.

They all treated you as if you were their cousin and not their maid. They knew Mrs. Kim had taken you in as a charity when you were a young orphaned girl with nowhere else to go. She was the closest thing to a mother you had. She was kind enough to teach you some skills, in the hopes that you may marry someone with a decent job that would allow you to work less or if you were lucky, not at all. But, you would never reach the level of the Kims. It wasn't unheard of, but so rare you didn't dare dream. You weren't like Dorothea, you didn't have the money to dream.

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"Miss Cooke, it's wonderful to see you again," Seokjin said, allowing you to take off his jacket and place it in the closet.

"A pleasure as always, Mr. Kim." You turned to see more men working their way into the parlor. All of them handsome. All of them filthy rich. By the time the carriages were unloaded, there were seven in all.

You spotted one with a yellow flower tucked into his collar and you smiled in recognition of Mr. Jeon. His eyes seemed to be flitting around the parlor and up the stairs.

"Looking for the elder, Miss Kim?" you asked, smirking.

"Um, uh, yes, how did you know?"

"Ah, Miss Cooke knows everything around here," Taehyung said, coming through the door and clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You really should get on her good side."

You smiled at Taehyung, immediately remembering his boxy smile and the way he had been infatuated with you when you were children.

You helped each man out of their coat learning their names as you went: Mr. Jeon, Mr. Min, Mr. Jung, and Mr. Park. The middle Kim brother was the last one. He was the one you didn't remember all that well. He had always been the tallest, but he was very shy growing up, opting most of the time to keep himself content in the library.

"Mr. Kim, you've matured much since I last saw you," you said, taking his jacket and hanging it beside the rest of the men's jackets.

"You have as well, Miss Cooke."

When you turned back around, you met his eyes, the first time in the interaction. You hardly remembered how handsome he was: his intelligent eyes and dimples nearly knocking you off your feet.

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Dinner was a frenzy. You worked to serve all the food at once. You had just sat down a plate of vegetables and turning to head back to the kitchen when you felt something brush the backside of your skirt.

You face reddened and you turned around, in disbelief that any of the so-called gentlemen would touch you in such a way, but when you met eyes with the guilty gentleman, he seemed just as embarrassed as you. Namjoon's eyes were wide and he was holding up his hands.

"Miss Cooke, please don't think that I would mean to touch you in such away. I was simply trying to reach out for attention. Please forgive me."

"'Tis nothing, sir. I can see from your face you had no ill intentions."

You quickly excused yourself to the kitchen and never met the man's eyes again. You heard indistinct chattering among the guests, but could clearly hear the Namjoon's brother's teasing him.

"I would've paid to see Miss Cooke take a whack at you," Taehyung said. "When she turned around it certainly looked like she wanted to."

"The look on your face must've frazzled her. She's never called any of us 'sir' before."

The other's boys laughed and you made a point to tune out the rest of their conversation as you ate in the kitchen with the rest of the staff.

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"Miss Cooke," Namjoon said to you as you retrieved his jacket for him that night. Just like when he arrived, he was the last one to leave. "I want to apologize for what happened at dinner. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"It's quite all right, Mr. Kim. Accidents happen and a little embarrassment is good for the ego."

Mr. Kim turned around his gaze felt hot against your skin. "Oh, I nearly forgot," he said, reaching into his pocket. Your eyes widened when he pulled out the small violet flower Miss Kim had placed behind your ear earlier that day. "You dropped this while you were serving. That's, uh, why I was trying to get your attention before."

He hesitantly reached up and placed it back behind you ear, smoothing back your hair as he did so, you ensure it wouldn't become tangled around the plant.

"I thought you might want it back. It flatters you."

You blushed and curtsied to thank him. He left with a polite farewell and as you closed the door you felt like all the air drained out of the room.

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You had managed to avoid the Kim brothers and specifically Namjoon all day. You'd of course greeted them, but you felt you cheeks grow warm when Namjoon smiled when he spotted the flower still tucked behind your ear. You knew you couldn't be around him the rest of the day or else you might lose your composure.

It was nearly the end of the day and you'd finished your duties early, Mrs. Kim insisting that you take the night off. Even telling you that the Kim brothers wouldn't mind seeing themselves out.

The night before they had announced that they were hosting a ball at Finchfield. The two Miss Kims had been so delighted it was all they could talk about. You were happy that Dorothea was finally going to get to dance with Mr. Jeon, because it was obvious from the night before that the feelings were mutual. And, you were sure the younger Miss Kim would find a suitable partner as well.

You entered the library--your favorite place to go whenever Mrs. Kim allowed you the night off--and you were startled to find the three brother's inside. The furniture pushed to the side while Taehyung and Namjoon stood across from each other, halfway through the steps of a country dance.

"Miss Cooke!" Seokjin said. "What impeccable timing! We were just complaining about the lack of female partners. We were just teaching Namjoon how to dance. I'm not sure how he got this far into life without learning how to do a simple Country Dance."

"The offer flatters me, Mr. Kim. But, wouldn't one of your cousins be a much more suitable partner?"

"Ah, but see Miss Cooke, my younger brother is embarrassed to admit to his younger cousins that he does not know how to dance. Please will you save him the embarrassment?"

"See, the thing is, Mr. Kim, I don't know how to dance either."

"Even more perfect! Namjoon won't be as embarrassed if his partner also can't dance! It might make our job harder, but we're willing to sacrifice."

You could already see through the Kim brother's antics, but it appeared Namjoon was nearly as embarrassed as you, but as you went to stand across from him, he bowed politely.

The dance was simple, you'd seen it a few times when balls were held at the Kim estate, but you were never allowed to attend a ball as a guest.

You followed the instructions, meeting Namjoon's eyes only for a moment, before pulling away again. Your hands softly touched as you swiftly came together before pulling apart again.

"Your flower hasn't wilted," he said, nodding towards the flower tucked behind your ear.

"I put it in water last night," you said. "I want to make sure it lasts as long as possible."

"Mr. Jeon did the same with his. I think he's really quite taken with my cousin."

"Hm, I should think so. She's quite taken with him as well. She talks about how infuriating he is, but I can see straight through her. Last night was the first time I've seen her speechless."

When Dorothea had walked in and spotted Mr. Jeon with the flower tucked into his collar, she couldn't keep the blush off her cheeks or the smile off her face.

"I expect I'll be moving to Mr. Jeon's estate within the year."

The dance stopped.

"Why would you move to Mr. Jeon's?"

"I plan to go wherever the eldest Miss Kim goes," you said. "Our bond is that of sisters and I can't think of living here without her."

"Oh, I see." Taehyung cleared his throat which caused you and Namjoon to look back over at the youngest brother. "Ah, yes, thank you, Miss Cooke for humoring my brothers, and for the dance. You're not a bad dancer, although, I may not be the best judge of that."

You curtsied and quickly grabbed the book you had come in for and left the library on shaky legs, trying to get the feel of the light touches from the dance off your hands.

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It was the night of the dance and you had settled into the window seat of the library. You had nearly the whole manor house to yourself, except for the other staff. You had just finished the first chapter of a new novel when the library door opened.

"Mr. Kim! Shouldn't be headed to the ball?"

"Uh, yes," he said. "Yes, I should. But, I couldn't go without reserving my first dance for the person who taught me to dance. And, it will give me one last practice."

"Oh, Mr. Kim, I'm flattered, but I don't want to make you late."

"I will always have time for you, Miss Cooke. But, if you truly don't wish to dance with me, allow me to add to your collection."

He reached out and handed you a book--a modern collection of poetry. "I saw you took a book of poetry yesterday. I thought you might enjoy this one. I have another copy back home, so feel free to keep this one."

Your eyes became misty. It was the first book you owned. You always borrowed from the library which Mrs. Kim was generous to allow you to do in the first place.

"Finchfield has a wonderful library, too. I'm not sure why the previous owner left it, but perhaps one day if you accompany Miss Kim, I can find a reason for you to spend the day there."

"Mr. Kim, this is all too much. How can I ever thank you?"

"Allow me to the pleasure of the first dance?"

"Of course," you said.

You both stumbled through the steps. You didn't quite remember and Namjoon hadn't quite perfected it yet, but when your hands touched for the brief moment, you were overcome with joy. You knew it couldn't last and that you and Mr. Kim could never be together, but even for the moment it felt like you were more than a maid. You were allowed to dream for just a moment.

Namjoon left not long after the dance, leaning down to kiss your hand before he left, something he would never do if anyone else were around.

You set aside the novel and opened up the book of poetry. Inside he had written a short inscription: May the prettiest flower never wilt.

The Stick Notes guy | Kim Namjoon x Reader

Kim Namjoon x reader

This is a third person pov and the reader has she/her pronouns. The names of the idol and the others aren't mentioned but the characteristics make it pretty obvious about who the fanfic is. This can be read as a simple one shot without the label of fanfic too.

Genre: fluff (little angst if you squint)

Warnings: no major warnings, mention of college parties

Summary: What will happen if you have a crush on two different people according to you, one is mysterious and the other being someone you see everyday?

Words: 2.5k approximately

College!AU

(It's Namjoonie's birthday, Happiest birthday to one of the most beautiful humans on this planet and the best leader BTS could ever ask for ♡)

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'Plants are pretty and so are flowers, maybe someday I'll get them for you'

The note said.

She smiled as she looked at the note. It was crazy how just a piece of yellow paper with something cheesy scribbled on it made her smile. She never knew who was it that stuck the notes there everyday but they were always there.

"You got another one of these?" Her best friend asked in his soft voice as he pursed his lips looking at her read the note.

"Yessh." She said in a hush like voice as she placed the note in her notebook to take it to her room and put it safely in the little box she made for all the little notes she got.

"Ah, you and your notes. I'll get going, I have a class." Her friend said as he started walking out of the alley between the bookshelves they were in and she turned around to tell him to not go.

But, her dearest friend just dismissed her as he let out a soft chuckle and felt the glares of the people sitting in the library on him as he walked away from the book shelves. He apologised as she just shook her head.

"I'll see you later." He, her best friend,  mouthed looking at her before giving his iconic smile which made his eyes disappear and walked out of the library.

She stood there holding her books closer to her chest. This mysterious note giver, he was one of a kind, she remembered the first time she stuck a note there with no hopes of getting a reply.

Hey, Stranger!

Her note said.

Hello fellow homo sapiens!

Was the reply she got.

And that was the start of it. Their little everyday conversation through yellow stick notes which they stuck on the apparent not regularly visited section of the library.

She always wondered if it was a ghost that she communicated with everyday because she never saw anyone walk into that alley which led to that bookshelf, cause that bookshelf had books from the stream where people barely studied anything in.

This mysterious stick notes giving guy felt like a part of her imagination indeed.

She walked away from the bookshelf and sat in her usual place in the library. She placed the books to study on the table and looked in front of her.

There he was, the guy she had an enormous crush on. I mean, how could one not have a crush on him? He was tall, smart, killed people when he glared at them with those perfectly hooded monolid eyes of his but at the same time healed people with that dimpled smile of his.

She observed him as he adjusted the glasses on his nose. He scrunched his nose just a little bit flinching slightly at the sound of someone pulling a chair around them. She hid behind her book as his eyes suddenly looked around and she pretended to be very much into the book to even notice that it was upside down. She facepalmed herself as she quietly turned her book back to it's normal position and pretended to read it again. She slowly looked back up to look at him and found his dark brown eyes looking at hers. She stopped working as his eyes continue to remain in contact with hers, it was almost as if he was assessing her.

What was she supposed to do?

She didn't know so she just looked at the page that she was pretending to read. After a while, she hesitantly looked back and much to her good luck, he went back to reading the book.

She felt terrible for having a crush on the guy and the guy who sent her those cute little sticker notes. But, it was what it was.

Sometimes, she wondered if both of these two people were the same. But, she eventually came to a conclusion that it wasn't possible, a lot of times, she never found the tall guy around her when there was a sticky note on the bookshelf and sticky notes guy seemed more of an outgoing person with those crazy one liners and adorable plant emojis.

The sticky note guy made her feel good, made her feel those butterflies, made her appreciate the little creatures on the earth, made her believe in the magical feels of having a crush, made her laugh with those cheesy one liners he made, made her tear up at those thought provoking quotes and made her fall for him. But then there was also this guy in front of her who made her feel almost all the same things but from a distance.

She sighed as she closed the book and removed her yellow stick notes pad and scribbled something along the lines of

'Aha, tulips will be perfect ;)'

She walked towards the place and stuck it perfectly at the spot she always found the stick notes.

She brushed her hands off to remove the dust, collected her books and walked out of the shelf and then out of the library not before giving the guy with the crab pattern shirt a glance.

_

"So there is this party." Her friend announced as she glared at him.

"I am not gonna come." She said plastering a sickeningly sweet smile and her friend frowned.

"But. I came to that bookstore with you last week." He said to reason and she just shrugged it off.

"That was your choice." She said instead.

"Ahh, I hate you so much." He blurted.

"I love you too." She said with a smirk on her face and he just glared at her.

Her eyes drifted away from her angry friend to the familiar dimpled guy. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked at him smile at a person who handed him a pamphlet and walked away.

"I will come to the party." She blurted out of nowhere.

"You what?" Her friend asked as he blinked at her.

"Just be happy that I said yes, bro." She said instead and walked away before he could ask her any other questions she didn't wanna answer.

_

She looked at the note in her hand, the note she got today.

Would you like to meet someday? :)

The note said.

She was blushing like crazy. She was nervous, really nervous because she did a weird thing, she invited him to meet her near the infamous lamp post on the campus. Now, the thing was, the party was today and it was on the campus and a lot of people loved talking pictures at the lamp post and there was a party. She wanted to smack herself right in the face for doing such a stupid thing.

She placed the note back in her collection and walked towards the mirror to look at herself one last time before heading out. She wore a simple pair of blue washed jeans and matched it with a black full sleeved off shoulder top. She applied minimal makeup feeling self conscious and resisted the urge to wipe it off her face.

The campus was lit up and she could hear the bass booming through the halls of the dorm. She silently walked out of her dorm without interacting with anyone and kept walking till she reached the famous lamp post. She couldn't see anyone there except a group of girls who were talking a bunch of selfies leaning on the lamp post. She frowned slightly and made her way towards the party feeling a little disheartened.

"So, I found out why you came here." Her friend said as she raised one of her eyebrows while looking at him.

"It is him. Isn't it?" He asked and she blinked.

"Which him are you talking about?" She asked him.

"Ah, shoot, I forgot that there are two of hims." He said and she glared at him.

"That guy, the one from library." She said.

"Ha, I figured that out when I saw him walk out." He said and her eyes stopped wandering around.

"Walk out?" She asked him.

"Yeah. Why?" He asked but she dismissed him and hurried out of there pushing bodies out of her way.

She kept walking till she reached the lamp post and stopped when she looked at him. The familiar dimples etching on his face as he looked at the little stick note in his hand and smiled at it. Her heart beat so fast in her chest that she was scared that in another moment she will wake up from her dream or die. Her stomach and chest filled with butterflies which were fluttering all over there. She gulped as she blinked looking at him lean on the lamp post and smile as his eyes wandered around and stopped on her. He stopped leaning and stood straight as he looked at her.

She slowly walked towards him as he blinked looking at her. It was strange how both of them knew almost every small thing about each other but were strangers just because they never met. It was a strange feeling, she felt, it was him, the guy she had been in love and it was also him, the guy she wanted him to be. It would make no sense to anyone else but she couldn't explain how happy she felt and at the same time she was nervous.

She finally stood in front of him and he looked at her as he placed her note back in his pocket. There was a bag in his hand, it looked like a gift but she didn't wanna pry so she remained silent.

"Hey." He said hesitantly and it almost felt unreal to hear that voice, the voice she always heard in the form of a deep chuckle or when he called someone out from a distance, speak to her. His voice was different, raspy, leathery and unique just like him.

"Hey!" She exclaimed as he smiled at her.

"I got this for you." He said as he handed her the gift bag and she smiled at him and thanked him.

She looked at the pretty bag which had small potted plant in it with small flowers buds on its branches.

"Its a bonsai." He said as she looked up.

"A Jasmine plant." He said further as she looked at the little potted plant with a sparkle in her eyes.

He slowly leaned on the lamp post and looked at her with a smile as she touched the flower buds. She looked up and felt nervous under his gaze.

"What?" She asked him.

"I wish I could get flowers but I didn't expect us to meet this soon." He said instead.

"But you got me a plant that will eventually give me flowers." She said and he looked at her with a soft smile.

"Its one of my bonsai collection." He said nonchalantly and she felt a wave of flutters in her stomach, she remembered all the times he told about having a little plant nursery in his dorm room and about his roommate kept scolding him for making their room a zoo.

"Thank you." She said meaning it as she looked into his eyes.

"You're welcome." He said with a small nod.

"Wanna take a walk and talk or head to the party?" He asked.

"Let's take a walk." She said and he nodded.

They both walked in silence as they admired the surroundings with the booming sound that came from the party. They kept walking till the sound was faint and stood in front of the campus cafeteria which faced the garden. They sat on one of the benches as he looked at the night sky. She turned around and looked at him, his jaw was sharper than the knife in her kitchen and she resisted the urge to boop his nose. How can a person be so irresistible and adorable at the same time?

She wondered as she observed his features and his side profile in the calm surroundings.

"I saw you, one day, at the library sticking the note up." He said after a while and she froze.

"You did?" She asked.

"Yeah." He said as he let out a soft chuckle.

"I couldn't believe that it was you." He said instead and she felt her heart drop.

_What did he mean? Did she disappoint him? Did he expect someone prettier?_

Well, ofcourse he did. He deserved the best. Ofcourse, he had expectations. She thought.

A faint red flush appeared on his cheeks as he looked ahead avoiding her gaze and she felt her cheeks heat up too for no particular reason.

"You might not remember, but freshman year, I bumped into you and you guided me to my class. I found you fascinating since then and I don't want to creep you out but everytime I stuck that note on the shelf. I wish it was you who found it and you did." He said and her heart was on the verge to explode.

Ofcourse, she remembered the first time she saw him, he was so lost and she happened to bump into him. It felt like destiny had its own twisted way of making things happen.

"I remember." She said as he turned around to look at her and their eyes held the contact for longer than they should've.

"It's getting late, we should head back" He said as she nodded and moved her eyes away from his face to look at her hands.

They got up and walked in silence, their hands brushed slightly when they walked and her heart raced everytime it did. They finally reached her dorm area. She looked at him stand in front of her wearing that black oversized sweatshirt with that cap on his head.

"I'll see you tomorrow, same time, same place." He said as she looked at him and nodded with a smile.

He came closer to her hesitantly and leaned forward to place his lips softly against her cheek. It made her heart beat so fast that she was sure that she will collapse on the floor. Her entire face warmed at the feeling of his lips against her skin and she smiled as he pulled away and whispered a soft good night in her ears and she squeaked a good night back and ran back to her dorm.

She locked her door up and looked outside her window and found him nervously scratch the back of his neck with that dimpled smile on his face and look around. His eyes stopped when he looked at her figure at the window and waved at her. She waved her hand back at him with the same enthusiasm as he gave her one last bright smile before walking away.

She had a lot to think about and a lot of pending assignments and a hell of lecture from her best friend for leaving her at the party like that but she couldn't care less as she sighed and let herself fall on her bed to escape to her world of dreams.

☝this right here, is the story why i am here in tumblr. I stumbled upon Fal in WP but i always have a feeling that there's more content from her (and eventually Shanna, too)...

i love this story so much!!! 6K words that tells you the story of 2 complete strangers, who made a conscious decision to choose each other inspite being force to a marriage. the whole story is so emotional for me coz its shows me how they feel, what goes on into their head... from both their POVs. i don't have the proper words to describe how this story affects me. in just 6K i felt such longing, want, jealousy, frustration, love & desire to be there for someone. the story is so direct & straight forward that sometime it left me dizzy but at the same time i truly i understand how the 2 characters feel.

its impact is so great that after more than a year of being Fal's follower, this story has become a sort of comfort story for me - the one i read after a bad day & im finally in my bed. the kind of story that i go to when i dont want to start a new story but would still like to read something.

💜💜💜😘😘😘

Obligated

Author: @underthejoon as a part of the Bound series with @kpopfanfictrash 

Creative Content Contributor: @baebae-goodnight (her mood boards are amazing - like all the damn time)

Rating: M - explicit sex, cursing, drinking

Word Count: 6k

Summary:  Married by obligation, weighed down by circumstance. Except for those nights when you’re both drunk, falling into bed with one another and realizing you’re human. Occasionally this happens, occasionally you fuck. Until your life changes and you realize Namjoon, the very man you’re obligated to, might just be the very man that you crave.

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hello! i don’t know what to call this other than to appreciate this author. i love this author and i don’t think i have ever said why? sure there’s romance, fluff, smuts galore, but most importantly real issues are discussed. and i have found myself crying more than anything else when i’m reading stories from this author. Of Boogers and Tteokbokki - God! the assumption drawn in this story that led to misunderstanding and hurt and separation! im a mom so feel the female character’s desire to keep her baby. iknow that even confronted with a possibility of having a child with Down Syndrome, i would have chosen to push through with it. Call of Duty - my goodness, i cannot imagine what every wife, husband, father, mother, daughter, son goes through when they are told that their loved one in uniform is missing or that something has happened to them. how it feels to send them off while thinking at the back of your mind if this will be the last you will see them. shhhh… you know the pic in this story? yes, that’s my lock screen image… BEAR and SPARROW - i have read countless stories of people escaping their own country via illegal means, have watch multiple documentary and its heart breaking… i hav eto be honest that i stopped reading after chapter 3, so scared that the author will take the route of realism and have Sparrow die in the hands of police and get lost in the sea of missing immigrants… i have not found the courage to continue reading this… Road to Redemption - this one hit hard, so damn hard!!! i cried a river. it hit home, so very very very close to home. the plates in the sink, check! socks not in the hamper but in the fucking dining chair, check! the procrastination, hell check!!! and what really hurts, is when he tells you - “chill, will you relax??? i will take care of it” only to wake up the following morning with the same plates in the sink, the same sock in the dining chair, the multiple to do’s that should have been done last week. Stay - your latest story made my chest hurts so bad. i didn’t get my road to redemption (if u know what i mean), but i am so blessed to be surrounded by such a strong support system that never ever have i come close to succumbing to depression. all i know is that, its not easy to cry for help, coz its hard to swim to the surface and its pitch black below. i love you @sahmfanficbts​, your stories ground me. it tells me that i am not alone in what i go through. i don’t know how to give back to content creator/writers like you, except to shout out to whoever follows me that you guys are the best out there! 💜💜💜😘😘😘

🤔! Jin is still my Jin, NO MATTER WHAT!

Too true! 😂

JIMINS TEASER PHOTO FOR THE HER ALBUM🌸

Is this a sign?!

successors (후계자) — kim namjoon (김남준)

✧.* 18+

if you're born poor, that's not your fault. if you die poor, it's nobody's fault but yours. that was the way the world worked, and the only option was to live with it. whether you lived poor or lived rich, you lived with it. money was the essence of everything, it kept the world spinning. it was also the reason greed was the essence of man. all of the money mattered, even if it was a cent. it could buy anything in the world, except love.

the streets of busan bustled with life as you found yourself roaming the streets. it didn't feel like home, because it wasn't. your home or at least, what you made of it, resided on the outskirts of seoul. the poverty-stricken area that consisted of farmers and people with rich hearts, that was home. busan was thick with intensity, the sound of the night piercing your ears as you followed the coordinates your sister had sent you.

eunha was only a few years older than you, but she moved to busan the second she had the chance. she had found herself a boyfriend and, despite their recent break-up, she didn't regret the decision at all. the setting and environment itself had encouraged her to do better for herself, for her life. when she had first left, you hated her for it. you hated her for leaving you with your sick, mute mother, but you made peace with it. in the end, she was only looking to better herself and, now, she wanted you to play a role.

you knew she had struck gold as you reached the final address. truly, she had done well for herself. as you stood before the apartment door, you took a moment to admire the elegant building and the well-maintained surroundings. Tthe bustling city life outside faded into a peaceful anticipation as you approached her floor. eunha had clearly done well for herself, a stark contrast to the humble beginnings you both shared. the elevator ride up to the ninth floor felt like an eternity, your mind filled with memories of the two of you.

when you finally reached her apartment, you double-checked the number before knocking lightly. almost immediately, the door swung open, and she stood there with a wide smile. she looked radiant, her eyes sparkling with a mix of joy and relief at seeing you. without hesitation, she pulled you into a warm hug, engulfing you in her familiar, comforting scent. “(y/n), it’s so good to see you!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine happiness. “come in, come in!”

you stepped inside, taking in the beautifully decorated interior. the apartment was spacious, modern, and filled with personal touches that screamed eunha. from the carefully selected furniture to the framed photographs of you both on various adventures, every corner of the space radiated her personality and hard work. “you’ve done really well for yourself,” you said, admiring the place. “i’m so proud of you.”

she beamed at your words, a mixture of pride and modesty in her expression. “thank you, (y/n). it hasn’t been easy, but it’s all starting to come together.” as you settled on the plush couch, she brought out a tray of snacks and tea, sitting down beside you. she looked at you with a curious glint in her eye.

“so, tell me everything about your journey here. how have you been?” she asked, pouring tea into delicate cups. you spent the next hour catching up, sharing stories and laughing over fond memories. eventually, the conversation shifted to her recent breakup. her expression turned a bit somber, but there was a determined look in her eyes.

“it’s been tough,” she admitted, stirring her tea absently. “but the heartbreak pushed me to focus on something bigger. i've started my own company, calling it hanbok group.” you raised your eyebrows in surprise, impressed by her ambition. “wow, that’s amazing, eunha. tell me more about it.”

her eyes lit up as she began to explain. “hanbok group is all about preserving and modernizing traditional korean clothing. i've been investing a lot of money into it, and it’s starting to gain traction. we’re not just selling hanboks; we’re creating a cultural movement, blending the old with the new.” you listened intently, absorbing her passion and determination. yet, a part of you felt a twinge of skepticism. “it sounds incredible. but are you sure this is the right move? starting a company is a huge risk, especially after what you’ve been through.”

she nodded, understanding your concern. “i know it’s risky, but i believe in this. i believe in preserving our culture and sharing it with the world. i just need a bit of support, and i'm confident it will work out.” seeing the fire in her eyes, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of admiration. despite your reservations, you wanted to support her in any way you could.

“alright,” you said with a small smile. “let’s discuss it more in the morning. i want to hear all about your plans and see how i can help.” her face lit up with gratitude. “thank you, (y/n). that means a lot to me.”

the night passed with more conversation and laughter, the bond between you and your sister feeling stronger than ever. as you prepared for bed in the cozy guest room, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement for the days ahead. you couldn't help but notice the photo framed on the desk, just a few feet across the bed. it was a photo of eunha and her ex-boyfriend, the two of them on a beach. the sight of it practically made you shiver, an unsettling feeling engulfing you as you allowed yourself to fall asleep, just barely.

the next morning, you woke up to the comforting aroma of freshly washed sheets lingering in the air. however, as you groggily made your way to the kitchen, you noticed that eunha was nowhere to be found. you had assumed she had gone out to run some errands. feeling a bit more awake, you decided to venture out and find a cafe for your morning coffee. you grabbed your wallet and phone, then left the apartment, ready to explore the neighborhood.

after a short walk, you spotted a quaint cafe not too far from eunha’s apartment. the charming exterior and cozy ambiance drew you in. as you entered, you were immediately greeted by the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee and the soft hum of chatter. you made your way to the counter, scanning the menu. "these prices are insane," you muttered to yourself, shaking your head slightly. you paid no mind to your surroundings, entirely focused on the options before you.

just as you decided on your order and turned to move towards the counter, you bumped into someone. you stumbled back, eyes widening in horror as you saw the man in front of you with his coffee spilled all over his shirt. "oh shit, i'm so sorry!" you exclaimed, panicking and beginning to apologize frantically. "i wasn’t paying attention, i’m so sorry!"

the man laughed, a warm and genuine sound that immediately put you at ease. "it's okay, really. it was an ugly shirt anyway," he said with a playful smile. "i’m namjoon, by the way." you blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his easy-going demeanor. "i’m (y/n)," you introduced yourself, still feeling a bit flustered.

namjoon smiled again, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "well, (y/n), you can make it up to me by having coffee with me. what do you say?" you nodded, grateful for his kindness. "of course, i’d love to."

after paying for the coffees, you both found a table by the window and settled in. the initial small talk was easy and flowed naturally. you discovered that namjoon was also from seoul, which led him to ask what you were doing in busan.

"i’m visiting my sister," you explained, taking a sip of your coffee. "she’s been working on a new business venture here." namjoon nodded, interest piqued. "that sounds exciting. what kind of business?"

"she’s started a company," you replied. "it’s focused on preserving and modernizing traditional korean clothing." before namjoon could respond, the sound of heels clicking against the floor and a sharp cough interrupted your conversation. both of you turned to see a woman with long, black hair and bangs standing nearby, an impatient expression on her face.

"namjoon, what are you doing?" she asked, her tone clipped. he sighed, his earlier ease replaced with mild irritation. "just having coffee, soyeon. this is (y/n)," he gestured to you, "we had a little accident with the coffee."

she shot you a glare before turning her attention back to him. "i’m his fiancée," she declared, her tone possessive. you noticed namjoon rolling his eyes slightly at her introduction. she quickly grabbed his arm, pulling him away. he managed to offer you a small, apologetic smile. "i’ll see you around, (y/n)," he said, his voice filled with a hint of regret.

you watched as they left, doubting that you’d run into him again. it was only when you looked down at your table that you noticed a small piece of paper under his coffee cup. picking it up, you saw his phone number written in big black letters. a smile tugged at your lips as you slipped the paper into your pocket. the rest of the day passed in a blur of meetings and errands with eunha. you found yourself distracted, your thoughts drifting back to the morning’s encounter with namjoon. there was something about him that intrigued you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that your paths would cross again.

the next few weeks flew by as you dedicated yourself to working on eunha's project. days blended into each other with meetings, brainstorming sessions, and countless cups of coffee as you helped her refine the vision for hanbok group. the experience was both exhausting and exhilarating, and you felt a deep sense of pride in her progress and determination. the days were filled with laughter, hard work, and the occasional late-night chat about everything from business strategies to personal dreams.

as the final days of your visit approached, you and her made the most of your remaining time together. you explored more of busan, visited local markets, and enjoyed some of the city’s best restaurants. it felt surreal that your trip was coming to an end.

on the day of your departure, eunha accompanied you to the train station. you were both a bit teary-eyed as you hugged goodbye, knowing how much this time together had meant to both of you. she squeezed you tightly and said, “please give mom a kiss for me, okay?” you nodded, trying to hold back the tears. “i will. take care of yourself, eunha.”

with a final wave, you boarded the train. as the doors closed behind you, you felt a pang of nostalgia for the time spent in busan. unbeknownst to you, a familiar gaze lingered on your figure as the train pulled away from the station. the journey back to seoul felt long and reflective. you found solace in the rhythmic clacking of the train wheels, your mind replaying memories from your visit and pondering the future.

upon arriving back in seoul, you made your way to your small house, eager to reconnect with your mother. however, when you opened the door, the house was eerily empty. confused and a little anxious, you went next door to speak with your landlord, hoping to find some answers. “hello, mr. min,” you greeted him. “i'm looking for my mother. she’s not at home.” the landlord looked at you with a mix of sympathy and hesitation. “oh, i'm afraid your mother moved out while you were away.”

your heart sank. “moved out? where did she go?” hee shifted uncomfortably. “she’s living in the kim manor now, in one of their spare rooms. she’s still working as a maid there.”

the news hit you like a ton of bricks. you could hardly believe it. “the kim manor? why?” he shrugged, “i’m not entirely sure. the chairman offered it to her, i think. it’s quite a change.”

you thanked him quickly, your mind racing as you headed towards the manor. the grand estate loomed ahead, its imposing gates and manicured gardens a stark contrast to your modest home. the thought of your mother living there, amidst such opulence, was overwhelming. when you arrived, you were greeted by a skinny, older woman sipping wine on the porch. her sharp gaze assessed you as you approached.

“hello,” you said hesitantly. “i'm (y/n). i’m here to see my mother.” the woman raised an eyebrow. “you’re the daughter of the maid, correct?”

“yes,” you replied, feeling a bit uneasy under her scrutiny. “the mute one.” the woman’s expression softened slightly, and she gestured for you to follow her inside. “come on in. i’ll take you to her.”

the interior of the manor was just as grand as the exterior, with ornate decorations and polished surfaces everywhere. the woman led you through the house until you reached a modest kitchen, where you found your mother washing dishes at the sink. “mom,” you called out, your voice trembling with emotion.

your mother turned, her eyes wide with surprise and a hint of sadness. she quickly dried her hands and approached you, her expression a mix of relief and worry. you noticed the deep lines of stress on her face and the weariness in her eyes. you sat down in a small, sparsely furnished room off the kitchen, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken questions. once you were settled, you asked your mother what had prompted such a sudden change.

she began to sign slowly, her hands moving with deliberate care, “the chairman offered me this position. it was an opportunity we couldn’t refuse, given our situation.” the realization hit you like a tidal wave. the financial strain you had both been under was more severe than you’d imagined. tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to process the gravity of the situation. you felt a deep, aching sadness for both your mother and yourself.

you held her close, the weight of your financial troubles and the complexity of your current situation feeling almost unbearable. the shock of the sudden change, coupled with the overwhelming sense of inadequacy, left you feeling emotionally drained. that night, as you lay in the small, cold room you’d been given, you cried yourself to sleep. the reality of your financial struggles and the sudden upheaval in your life weighed heavily on you. the sense of helplessness was overwhelming, and you realized just how precarious your situation had become.

as night settled over the kim manor, the quiet grandeur of the house was punctuated. the front door creaked open, and the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the grand hall. namjoon, carrying a small duffel bag, was visibly exhausted from his travels. the clatter of a dropped glass and a gasp of disbelief came from the dining room as his mother laid eyes on him. her eyes widened, and tears began to stream down her cheeks. she rushed forward, her emotions overtaking her as she embraced her son with a fervent hug.

“namjoon, you’re back!” she exclaimed, her voice choked with emotion. “i didn’t expect you so soon!” his arms enveloped her, and he let out a sigh of relief. “mom, i missed you so much. it’s good to be home.”

they moved to the dining table, where namjoon recounted his experiences in busan. his mother listened intently, her heart swelling with pride and sympathy as he described the challenges he had faced. he spoke of his work, the stress of being away, and the yearning to reconnect with his family, despite his complicated feelings about his brother. “i’ve thought about Haejoon,” namjoon admitted. “even though he’s the last person i wanted to see, i hoped he might come around eventually.”

his mother placed a comforting hand on his arm. “haejoon will soften up eventually. he always does, even if he doesn’t show it right away.” he seemed to find solace in her words, and the conversation shifted to other matters. his mother mentioned the recent changes in the household.

“oh, by the way,” she said, trying to recall the details, “the housekeeper and her daughter have moved into one of the spare rooms.” namjoon raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “what’s the daughter’s name?”

his mother’s expression turned thoughtful as she searched her memory. “i'm afraid i've forgotten. it’s been a bit chaotic lately.” namjoon shrugged off the lapse, accepting it as part of the current upheaval. “that’s okay. i’m sure i’ll meet her soon enough.”

she couldn't help the frown from forming on her face at his words, her face suddenly serious as she warned him, “don't you talk to the staff, you know better than that.” he didn't take it to heart, he was just glad to be home. with the conversation winding down, he excused himself. the long day had left him exhausted, and he needed rest. he made his way up the grand staircase and through the opulent hallways to his room, ready to unwind and recharge. the house, now quiet again, settled into its usual rhythm. the only sounds were the soft rustling of the evening breeze and the occasional creak of the manor settling into the night.

as night deepened, namjoon tossed and turned in his bed, the remnants of his dreams lingering in his mind. sleep eluded him as his thoughts fixated on a fleeting image from his dream—your face. in his dream, you had been close, yet somehow distant, your presence tantalizingly out of reach. the vividness of the dream left him restless and unsettled. he tried to shake off the feeling, but the image of you persisted, haunting his thoughts as he lay awake in the quiet of his room.

morning arrived with a pale light filtering through the curtains. namjoon, still troubled by the unsettling dream, emerged from his room to find his mother in the dining room, awaiting breakfast. he joined her at the table, a hint of frustration in his demeanor.

“mom, i had the strangest dream last night,” namjoon began, trying to make sense of the lingering unease. his mother looked up from her newspaper, her attention piqued. “oh? what was it about?”

he hesitated before describing the dream, leaving out specific details about you. “i dreamed about someone i can’t quite place. she seemed familiar and yet distant. it was like she was right there, but i couldn’t reach her.”

his mother’s expression softened with concern. “dreams can be strange and unsettling. perhaps it’s just your mind working through your emotions.” namjoon sighed. “maybe. but it felt so real. it’s affecting my thoughts.”

his mother nodded understandingly. “you should try to focus on your engagement with soyeon. it’s important.” his brow furrowed. “but i don’t really like soyeon. i never have.”

his mother sighed, her gaze steady. “i know, namjoon. but it’s what the your father wants. soyeon’s family has the connections we need for the business deal. it’s a necessary step.”

namjoon nodded, though his frustration remained evident. “i understand the need for the business deal, but it’s hard to reconcile with my own feelings.” his mother, trying to shift the conversation, asked, “are you still in touch with jackson? i remember you mentioning him before you went to busan.”

his face darkened slightly. “not anymore. we lost touch. it’s been a while.” his mother raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in her voice. “i see. well, it might be worth reconnecting if it helps with the business. but for now, focus on what’s ahead.” namjoon agreed and decided to head out for the day. his mother watched him leave with a mixture of concern and resignation.

meanwhile, in the backyard of the manor, you were laboring under the early morning sun. exhausted from the sleepless night, you diligently collected the dry clothes from the line. the repetitive task was almost meditative, but the lack of sleep made every movement feel heavier. once you finished folding the clothes, you carried them into the house, placing them in their designated spots. as you worked, namjoon’s mother observed you with a critical yet appreciative eye.

“you move with such grace,” she remarked, watching as you completed your task. you offered a tired smile, acknowledging the compliment before heading out. with the day stretching ahead and your exhaustion palpable, you decided to visit the nearby convenience store. you bought a cold drink, hoping it would offer some respite.

you settled at a small table outside the shop, the beverage in hand providing minimal comfort. as the effects of fatigue began to catch up with you, your head nodded, and you eventually drifted into a light sleep. unbeknownst to you, a man had noticed your unusual presence. Intrigued by the sight of you sleeping at the table, he took a seat across from you. with a playful curiosity, he poked at your shoulder, trying to rouse you from your slumber. when you didn’t immediately respond, he chuckled to himself, finding amusement in the situation.

eventually, you stirred awake to find him eating a snack, clearly entertained by your groggy state. you blinked at him, trying to clear the haze from your eyes. “who are you?” you asked, still disoriented from your nap. the man grinned. “i’m jackson wang. nice to meet you. and you are?”

you rubbed your eyes lazily, trying to wake yourself fully. the effort felt almost too much, and you glanced at him with a mixture of curiosity and irritation. without offering your own introduction, you stood up, feeling the overwhelming need to escape the awkward encounter. jackson called after you, “hey, wait! come back!” but you, still groggy and eager to retreat, ignored his calls and walked off, heading back towards the manor. he watched you go, a bemused smile on his face, as you disappeared from view, leaving him with an amused sense of intrigue.

you moved through the tasks around the manor with a mechanical efficiency, driven more by the need to keep busy than by any real sense of accomplishment. each chore—arranging the rooms, tidying up the kitchen, and sorting through the various household items—was done with a mixture of resignation and determination. the house, despite its opulence, felt increasingly like a gilded cage, with each task a reminder of the overwhelming changes in your life.

when you finally finished, you retreated to the small room you had been assigned. it was a modest space compared to the grandeur of the rest of the manor, but it was your sanctuary. as you sorted through the clothes you had folded earlier, your hand brushed against a slip of paper. you pulled it out and saw that it was the note with namjoon's phone number—an unexpected reminder of the brief encounter you had in busan.

you hesitated for a moment, considering the implications of using the number. curiosity and a need for human connection nudged you forward. slipping the paper into your pocket, you decided to test it out. you made your way outside, feeling the cool air of the morning against your skin. standing in front of the manor’s gate, you took out your phone and dialed the number. the number was a direct line to namjoon’s phone, and you felt a flutter of anticipation as it rang.

“hello?” his voice came through, sounding slightly puzzled but courteous. “hi, namjoon, it’s (y/n),” you greeted, trying to keep your tone casual.

there was a brief pause on the other end. “oh, hey. i didn’t expect to hear from you.” you made small talk, trying to bridge the gap between your brief but memorable encounter in busan and the present moment. as you spoke, you remained unaware that namjoon was standing behind you, having come out of the manor for a breath of fresh air.

he listened to your voice, recognizing it immediately. he felt a strange mix of curiosity and comfort. “are you still in busan?” he asked, his tone betraying a hint of unease. you looked around, still speaking into the phone. “no, i'm back in seoul, what about you?” his heart raced a little. he was only a few steps away from where you stood, and he was unable to resist the pull of curiosity. he walked quietly, positioning himself so that he could see you as you spoke.

“turn around,” he said softly, though his voice was tinged with an edge of nervousness. you turned, your eyes scanning the area until they landed on him. for a moment, both of you stared at each other in shock. there was a genuine, unfiltered emotion in his eyes—a fleeting look of recognition and something more profound. the connection from your dream seemed to come alive in that brief exchange. however, the words of his mother flashed through his mind, reminding him of the boundaries he was supposed to maintain. he had been advised not to engage with the staff in any personal manner. as these thoughts surfaced, his expression shifted from surprise to a colder, more controlled demeanor.

he approached you, his steps deliberate and his gaze icy. he met your eyes with a look that was both firm and unyielding. the warmth from the earlier moment vanished, replaced by a sharp detachment.

“you're the maid's daughter, aren't you?” he asked, his voice devoid of the previous warmth. you flinched slightly at the shift in his tone, still trying to make sense of the situation, as realization hit you like a ton of bricks. “you're the second son, aren't you?”

without another word, he turned and walked past you, his steps echoing in the stillness of the manor grounds. you watched him go, feeling a mix of disappointment and confusion. the brief moment of connection had dissipated into a cold reality, leaving you standing alone, grappling with the complexity of your emotions and the new world you were now a part of. as he disappeared into the distance, you were left with the unsettling feeling of being caught between two worlds—one that was rapidly changing and another that seemed to be slipping further away.

namjoon struggled with the reality of the situation that had unfolded before him. the girl he had felt a sudden, inexplicable connection with in busan was now revealed to be the daughter of his family’s maid. the revelation felt like a cruel twist of fate. the initial flutter of butterflies he had experienced was now replaced by a sense of profound disappointment and confusion. he grappled with the stark contrast between his earlier feelings and the current state of their interactions.

the coldness he exhibited towards you became more pronounced with each passing day. he avoided eye contact, spoke to you with a clipped tone, and generally treated you with the indifference reserved for those considered beneath his notice. the warmth and curiosity he had shown in busan were replaced by a rigid formality that left you feeling isolated and disheartened.

you, too, were deeply affected by the discovery. the boy who had occupied your thoughts with such intensity turned out to be namjoon, the second son of the kim group, and you, as his maid’s daughter, were now living under his family’s roof. the disparity between your lives was stark, and the reality of it was crushing. the dreams and hopes you had harbored seemed to crumble under the weight of the new circumstances.

as time went on, the emotional strain became unbearable. the disparity in how you were treated and the growing tension between you and him led to sleepless nights. the emotional weight of your situation bore down heavily on you, making every task and interaction feel like a reminder of your diminished place in the world. one particularly sleepless night, the tears became too much to bear. you reached for your phone, your hands trembling as you dialed eunha’s number. the phone rang several times before she answered, her voice filled with concern.

“what’s wrong?” her voice was soft but urgent. through your tears, you managed to speak, your voice choked and fragmented. “i can't keep doing this anymore.”

her soothing presence on the other end of the line gave you a brief respite from your distress. “i know it’s tough. i know it's hard, but it won't last.” you sobbed harder, the weight of your situation overwhelming. “everything is falling apart.”

she took a deep breath, her voice steady and firm. “listen to me. this is not the end. you came here to make something of yourself, to help me with hanbok group. you need to channel this pain into something positive. the company needs to succeed. it’s the chance we have to build a future, to prove ourselves.” her words, though harsh, held a certain clarity. the determination she spoke of seemed to cut through the fog of despair that enveloped you. “i'll try,” you whispered, your voice trembling but infused with a newfound resolve. “i'll make it work.”

if you're born poor, that's not your fault. if you die poor, it's nobody's fault but yours. as the weeks turned into months, hanbok group began to show promising signs of growth. the initial investments that eunha had poured into the company started to bear fruit, and the early struggles began to pay off. eunha, with your diligent support, navigated the complexities of the fashion and art worlds with a deft hand, securing deals and partnerships that elevated the group’s profile.

the company’s first significant breakthrough came with a fashion line launch. the designs, a harmonious blend of traditional and contemporary styles, garnered attention from influential fashion critics and buyers. the success of the line not only boosted the company's reputation but also injected much-needed capital. the positive reception provided a solid foundation for future ventures.

following the fashion line, hanbok group expanded into art galleries, showcasing a curated collection of emerging and established artists. the galleries quickly became popular, drawing crowds and generating steady revenue. the dual success of the fashion line and art galleries established hanbok group as a prominent player in the industry, with financial stability and a growing network of connections.

with the company thriving, you and eunha were finally able to realize a long-held dream: surprising your mother with a stable and secure future. the time had come to leave the kim manor, a place that had been both a refuge and a reminder of the stark divide between your past and present. on the day of your departure, you packed up your belongings with a sense of bittersweet relief. the process was emotional but filled with anticipation for the new chapter ahead. you knew your mother would be thrilled to see the changes and the new opportunities that awaited her.

as you prepared to leave, you glanced around the manor one last time, acknowledging both the struggles and the triumphs that had marked your time there. the decision to move on was not just about leaving a place but about stepping into a future you had worked hard to build. when the day finally arrived for you to move out, namjoon returned home, exhausted from a long day. he made his way through the manor, only to find that your room was conspicuously empty. the absence of your belongings was jarring, and a sense of confusion washed over him. he had not seen you or heard anything about your departure.

seeking answers, he approached his mother, who was seated in the living room. “mom, where are (y/n) and her mom? their room is completely empty.” his mother’s eyes flickered with a cold, distant look. she pointed to the television, her voice carrying an edge of disinterest. “turn on the news. you might find the answer there.”

namjoon, perplexed and slightly apprehensive, followed her instruction. he switched on the television, and the news channel immediately brought up a breaking story about hanbok group. the screen displayed images of a successful fashion line launch and a new art gallery opening, accompanied by interviews and glowing reports.

as the news anchor spoke, namjoon’s attention was drawn to the faces that appeared alongside the story. one of them was unmistakably yours, your image featured prominently as a key figure behind hanbok group’s recent success. the realization struck him with force, a mix of shock and dismay. his mind raced to piece together the connections—the girl he had coldly dismissed, the daughter of his family’s maid, had risen to prominence and achieved success beyond his expectations. the contrast between the image on the screen and the reality of how he had treated you was stark and uncomfortable.

his gaze shifted to his mother, who remained impassive, her expression a mix of detachment and grim satisfaction. the weight of the situation settled heavily on him as he grappled with the full extent of his oversight. the news had not only exposed the success of hanbok group but also highlighted the disparity between his previous actions and the new reality.

your new life was a testament to the hard work and determination you had poured into hanbok group. the transformation was nothing short of a dream realized. your mother had moved into a spacious, luxurious apartment in the heart of seoul, a far cry from the cramped quarters of the manor. the apartment was elegantly furnished, with sweeping views of the cityscape that spoke of both affluence and newfound security. it was a living space that matched the success you had achieved, offering your mother a comfortable and refined environment.

hanbok group’s headquarters had also moved to seoul, marking a significant milestone in the company's expansion. the sleek new office building was a symbol of progress, reflecting the growth and success of the business. the modern design of the building, with its glass facades and cutting-edge facilities, stood as a beacon of your achievements and aspirations.

as you walked down the polished corridors of the new office, you took in the bustling activity around you. the staff moved with purpose, the energy of the space reflecting the thriving state of the company. you were deep in thought, reviewing the day’s tasks, when you spotted a familiar face.

jackson wang, the man from the convenience store, was standing near the reception area, his presence causing a ripple of recognition in your mind. you approached him with a mix of curiosity and formality. “jackson, what are you doing here?” you asked, trying to mask your surprise. his smile was easygoing, and he seemed genuinely pleased to see you. “i’m here on behalf of my father,” he began. “he wanted to propose a deal between hanbok group and wang industries at tonight’s opening ceremony. he thinks it would be mutually beneficial.”

you nodded, processing his words. “i see. well, we’ll definitely discuss it further. i appreciate you coming by to inform me.” his eyes twinkled with curiosity. “so, you do remember me from the convenience store?”

you offered a small smile, nodding in recognition. “yeah, i remember. good to see you again.” his expression shifted to one of genuine admiration. “congratulations on the success of hanbok group. it's impressive how far you’ve come.”

“thank you,” you replied, feeling a warm sense of validation. “it’s been quite a journey.” as you prepared to leave, jackson watched you with an air of quiet confidence. “i’ll see you tonight at the ceremony, then,” he said. “i’m looking forward to it.”

the opening ceremony for the company's new headquarters was a significant milestone, a moment of celebration that promised new beginnings. the event was meticulously organized, with a grand hall decorated in elegant hues that mirrored the company’s successful journey. the atmosphere was abuzz with anticipation as influential guests, industry leaders, and key stakeholders gathered to witness the occasion.

you and eunha met with jackson, his father, and their team in one of the private conference rooms prior to the main event. his father, a distinguished figure with a commanding presence, extended a firm handshake and greeted you with a businesslike warmth. “it’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person,” he said, his tone reflecting a blend of professionalism and cordiality. the discussion centered around the proposed partnership between hanbok group and wang industries. the terms were negotiated with careful consideration, and both parties were eager to explore the mutual benefits. after a thorough exchange of ideas and a few rounds of negotiation, an agreement was reached. the partnership was set to bring new opportunities and enhance the growth prospects for both companies.

with the formalities concluded, you felt a sense of accomplishment as you prepared for your first public appearance. the night was about to transition from business to celebration, and you were eager to make a positive impression. as you made your way to the backstage area to get ready, you spotted jackson once again. he approached you with a friendly smile. “i just wanted to thank you for the opportunity,” he said. “it’s been great working with you and seeing how far your company has come.”

“you’re welcome,” you replied, appreciating the gesture. “and thank you for your support. i'm looking forward to the new possibilities this partnership will bring.”

he nodded, his expression thoughtful. “it’s been a pleasure. i think tonight is going to be quite memorable.” as the time for the showcase drew nearer, you and jackson took your positions. the grand hall was now a sea of faces, the crowd eagerly awaiting the main event. you took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness as you prepared to step out onto the stage.

just as you were about to make your entrance, you noticed a familiar face in the crowd. your heart skipped a beat as you locked eyes with namjoon. he stood at the edge of the gathering, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that was both unsettling and familiar. the sight of him stirred a whirlwind of emotions—regret, longing, and an unspoken connection. his expression was unreadable, a mask of composure that did little to reveal his thoughts. for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur, leaving only the stark reality of his presence.

in the opulent study of the kim manor, the atmosphere was thick with tension. the chairman, haejoon, and haejoon’s stepmother, who had become a fixture in the household, gathered around a large mahogany desk. the study was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the room and adding to the gravity of the discussion. the chairman, visibly agitated, slammed a thick folder onto the desk. “this is bad,” he declared, his voice low and menacing. “absolutely bad for our company’s sales. hanbok group’s success at the opening ceremony has thrown a wrench into our plans.”

haejoon, who was pacing with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment, clenched his jaw. “father, you know i've tried to handle this situation,” he said, his voice strained. “but the backlash is enormous, and it’s affecting our public image.”

his father’s glare could have cut through steel. “you were supposed to maintain control over this. do you have any idea what this means for us? we’re losing ground to a company that was just a blip on our radar.” namjoon's mother, standing with her arms crossed, looked on with a cold expression. “this isn’t just about the company’s image. this is personal. eunha is your ex-girlfriend and (y/n) is the daughter of the woman who cleaned our toilets. their success is a direct insult to our family.”

before the conversation could delve deeper into the personal aspects, the door to the study opened, and namjoon walked in, his expression neutral but his demeanor tinged with unease. “the ceremony is finished,” he announced. “the opening was a success.” the room fell into a heavy silence as haejoon turned to face his stepbrother. the tension between them was palpable, with his dislike for namjoon evident in the way he glared at him. despite namjoon’s attempts to bridge the gap, haejoon seemed resolute in his disdain.

“we need a plan,” the chairman said, his tone was far from appreciative. “we need to find a way to counteract this situation. we can’t let hanbok group’s success overshadow our own achievements.” namjoon met his father’s gaze, accepting the gravity of the task. “understood. i’ll handle it.”

the chairman’s eyes narrowed. “you need to do more than just handle it. we need a strategy to undermine their momentum and regain control of the narrative. this isn’t just about competition; it’s about asserting our dominance.” namjoon nodded, a flicker of determination crossing his face. “i’ll get to work on it immediately.”

as he turned to leave, haejoon’s stepmother shot him a pointed look. the disdain in her gaze was evident, and it was clear that the family’s discontent with him was growing. namjoon, however, kept his focus on the task ahead, ignoring the glares and the underlying hostility in the room. as he walked out of the study, the weight of the responsibility settled heavily on his shoulders.

the transition to your new private school in seoul was a monumental shift, a step that symbolized the culmination of your hard work and the new opportunities afforded by hanbok group’s success. as you walked through the gates of the prestigious institution, you felt the weight of countless gazes. the students—dressed in their immaculate uniforms—watched you with a mixture of awe and envy. the whispers and stares made you feel like an object of fascination, a feeling both exhilarating and uncomfortable.

despite the attention, you held your head high, trying to maintain composure as you navigated the hallways. the sense of being scrutinized was palpable, but you were determined to focus on your new chapter.

suddenly, you felt a reassuring weight around your shoulders. you turned to see jackson, his familiar grin breaking through the sea of curious faces. “hey, i didn’t expect to see you here!” he said, his tone light and friendly. “i’m a student here too. thought i'd show you around.” relief washed over you as you smiled back. “thanks, jackson. that’d be great.”

as you walked together through the bustling corridors, you began to feel more at ease. however, your newfound comfort was abruptly interrupted when you came to a sudden halt. the reason for your pause became clear as you glanced ahead. namjoon stood at the end of the hallway, his gaze fixed on you. his eyes narrowed slightly when he noticed jackson by your side.

jackson’s voice broke the tense silence. “dramatic, aren’t you, namjoon? then again, you’ve always enjoyed a good crowd,” he remarked, his tone laced with an undercurrent of playful sarcasm. the students around you began forming a circle, intrigued by the unexpected confrontation. his expression darkened as he glanced at jackson. “what exactly do you think you’re doing here?” he asked, his voice edged with a hint of challenge.

jackson shrugged nonchalantly. “i could ask you the same thing. how was busan, friend?” the word “friend” hung in the air, heavy with unspoken history. the silence that followed was thick with unspoken tensions. the once close bond between namjoon and jackson had frayed over the years, especially after namjoon’s departure for busan, which had strained their relationship.

you shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to navigate the suddenly charged atmosphere. as you considered walking away to escape the awkwardness, namjoon’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist. his touch was firm but not aggressive, as he pulled you closer to his side. “wait,” he said, his voice low and resolute. “i need to talk to you.”

jackson’s eyes flickered with surprise, but he stepped back slightly, allowing namjoon to assert his presence. the surrounding students watched with bated breath, their curiosity piqued by the unfolding drama. namjoon’s grip on your wrist was firm, but his touch was not harsh. he guided you away from the crowd, leading you to a quieter corner of the school. his expression was a mix of confusion and something deeper—perhaps a flicker of old emotions.

“why are you here?” namjoon finally asked, his tone softening. “how did you end up at this school?” you met his gaze, trying to remain calm despite the rush of emotions. “that's none of your business, really.”

his eyebrows furrowed, a mix of surprise and hurt flickering across his face. “look, we’re both here now. can’t we just talk?” you shook your head, feeling a pang of frustration. “there’s nothing to talk about, namjoon. i’m here to focus on my studies and start fresh. whatever happened between us before, it’s in the past.” there was no getting over the way he had acted. no amount of money in the world could've made up for the nights you had spent crying, wondering why it was your life that was falling apart.

with that, you found yourself spinning on your heel. you had no interest in going back to where you started, and that included rekindling a bond with him. he was the one that looked down on you and, even if he wasn't, he was the one who wad engaged.

namjoon sat at a corner table in the bustling school cafeteria, his lunch barely touched as he absentmindedly stirred his drink. across from him, soyeon’s anger simmered beneath her composed exterior. the vibrant chatter of students around them seemed distant as she leaned in, her voice low and filled with frustration.

“i can’t believe this,” she said, her eyes flashing with irritation. “your company’s downfall is gonna ruin us. hanbok group is soaring, especially after the partnership with wang industries. it’s a huge blow to your sales, and since i'm engaged to you, my sales.”

he sighed, rubbing his temples. “i know, soyeon. it’s not like i wanted this to happen. i’m dealing with it as best as i can.” her frustration mounted. “dealing with it? it’s a disaster, and now you’re stuck here, trying to make sense of it all while they're out there taking the spotlight.”

his annoyance was evident. “we’re working on it, but what do you expect me to do? it’s not like we can just erase their success.” her eyes narrowed, her irritation shifting to a calculating gaze. “actually, there might be something we can do. it’s risky, but it could work.”

he looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. “what do you have in mind?” she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “you know that girl from hanbok group, the one you saw at the ceremony? if you get close to her—”

namjoon cut her off with a skeptical glance. “are you suggesting i seduce her?” her lips curled into a sly smile. “exactly. if you can get close to her, you might find a way to undermine hanbok group from within. Ii’s a chance to gather information, and maybe even influence things in our favor.”

he studied soyeon’s face, weighing the proposal. the idea was certainly bold, but it did offer a potential path to addressing the threat hanbok group posed to his family’s company. the thought of involving personal feelings in the strategy was unsettling, but the prospect of weakening the company was tempting.

“you really think this will work?” he asked, still unsure. she nodded, her expression serious. “it’s a long shot, but it might be our best bet. if you can get her to trust you, you might be able to find a way to sabotage their plans or at least gather some useful intel.” namjoon considered the proposal, his thoughts swirling with conflicting emotions. the idea of manipulating someone for business gain was morally dubious, but the stakes were high. if this was the only viable strategy to save his family’s company, he was willing to consider it.

“alright,” namjoon finally said, his voice determined. “i’ll do it. but remember, this is a means to an end. i don’t want this to get out of hand.” she smile widened, a glint of triumph in her eyes. “good. i knew you’d see the potential. just be careful—if things get messy, it could backfire.”

the grand opening of hanbok nightclub was a dazzling affair. the sleek, modern design of the venue glittered with bright lights and vibrant colors, creating an atmosphere of excitement and luxury. the turnout was impressive, with a lively crowd enjoying the music, drinks, and the bustling energy of the night. you stood at the edge of the main floor, taking in the scene with a mix of pride and relief. the risky investment in the nightclub had clearly paid off.

as you watched the guests mingle and dance, you turned to see a familiar face among the crowd. it was namjoon, looking sharply dressed in a suit that accentuated his tall frame. his presence was unexpected, and you felt a flicker of curiosity and unease. you approached him, your voice barely rising above the noise of the crowd. “what are you doing here?” he offered a small, sincere smile. “i came to support you. i heard about the opening and thought i’d check it out.”

you were taken aback by his response, feeling a strange mix of emotions. “i didn’t expect to see you here.” namjoon’s gaze softened. “i wanted to make amends. i know things between us have been complicated.”

you nodded, appreciating his gesture. “well, i’m glad you came. it means a lot.” he glanced around the nightclub, then back at you. “would you like to grab a drink? i'd like to talk, if that’s alright with you.” you hesitated for a moment, still feeling the sting of past interactions but decided that it was worth at least hearing him out. “alright, let’s get a drink.”

you led the way to the bar, where you both ordered drinks and found a quieter corner away from the main festivities. the setting was intimate, the dim lighting casting a warm glow over the space. as you sipped your drink, namjoon looked at you with a mixture of apprehension and sincerity. “i owe you an apology for how I acted before. the way i treated you was unfair. it wasn’t just me—it was pressure from my stepmother and the situation at home.” you studied his face, searching for any hint of insincerity, but found none. “i appreciate you saying that. it was confusing and hurtful, but i understand that you were caught in a difficult situation.”

he nodded, visibly relieved by your response. “it’s been a tough time for me, too. my family’s expectations and the pressure to keep up with everything—it’s been overwhelming.” you took a sip of your drink, considering his words. “i can’t imagine what you’ve been going through, but i hope things get better for you. and i hope we can move past this.”

his expression softened, and he gave you a small, appreciative smile. “i'd like that. i know i can’t undo the past, but i want to try to make things right, even if it’s just starting with this.” you nodded, feeling a sense of relief at the honest conversation. “we can start fresh. i’m willing to forgive and move on.”

hia eyes met yours with genuine gratitude. “thank you. it means a lot to me.” the conversation flowed more easily as the night progressed, with both of you sharing updates about your lives and catching up on missed time. the atmosphere around you was lively and festive, but in your little corner of the nightclub, it was as if a new chapter was beginning.

the weeks following the opening of the nightclub brought an unexpected shift in your relationship with namjoon. you found yourselves spending more time together, both within and outside of the office. the initial tension between you had faded, replaced by a genuine connection. conversations became easier, and you began to learn more about each other’s lives and interests.

he often seemed conflicted, his guilt evident as he navigated his dual role in your life. the feelings he was developing for you were undeniable, and it was becoming harder for him to maintain the facade of mere friendship. he had started to question the ethics of his actions, feeling remorseful for his initial intentions.

one afternoon, as you were wrapping up some paperwork in the office, eunha stopped by. she looked concerned as she approached your desk. “can we talk for a moment?” she asked, her tone serious. you nodded, setting aside your work. “of course. what’s up?”

she waited until you both settled into a quieter area of the office before speaking. “i've been noticing that you and kim namjoon have been spending a lot of time together lately. i’m curious—what’s your relationship with him?” you hesitated for a moment before answering. “we’re just friends. we’ve been getting to know each other better.”

her expression remained thoughtful. “i see. well, i want to encourage you to keep it that way—just friends.” you raised an eyebrow, surprised by her insistence. “why? is there something i should know?”

she sighed, looking more serious than you’d ever seen her. “yes, actually. there’s something important you need to understand. namjoon’s family, including his stepbrother, are our direct competitors. hanbok group and their company are rivals, and haejoon happens to be my ex-boyfriend.” you were taken aback, your eyes widening in disbelief. “haejoon is your ex? i didn’t know that.” you had recalled the photo of them in her guest room, the pieces gluing themselves together.

she nodded. “yes. it’s complicated, but it’s crucial for you to know that the kims and hanbok group are deeply intertwined in this business rivalry. i don’t want you to get caught up in any personal entanglements that could complicate things for both our company and your own future.” the revelation hit you hard. you had been developing genuine feelings for him, and eunha’s warning forced you to confront the reality of the situation. the idea of distancing yourself from him now felt painful, especially given the bond you had started to form.

“i understand,” you said, trying to steady your emotions. “i’ll keep my distance. i don’t want to create any conflicts for us.” she looked relieved but also sympathetic. “thank you. i know it’s not easy, but it’s important for the sake of the company. and if there’s anything more you need to know, or if you’re struggling, you can always talk to me.”

you appreciated her offer, though the weight of the situation was heavy on your heart. as she left, you sat alone, reflecting on the growing feelings you had for namjoon and the difficult decision you now faced. the connection you had with him felt real, but the business implications and personal history made it all the more complex.

namjoon sat at his study desk in the grand manor, the room illuminated by the soft glow of the desk lamp. the space was decorated with rich wood paneling and shelves lined with books, providing an aura of both warmth and authority. he was lost in thought, his mind preoccupied with the tangled emotions and complicated dynamics of his recent interactions with you.

the creak of the door broke his concentration. haejoon entered the room, a stern expression on his face. he walked straight to his desk and dropped a stack of photographs in front of him with a thud. the images were candid shots of you and namjoon from various moments—some at the nightclub, others from the recent school encounter. he looked up, his expression guarded. “what’s this about?” haejoon’s tone was cold and direct. “explain these.”

namjoon’s gaze shifted to the photos, and he took a deep breath before speaking. “soyeon came up with a plan to get close to you and undermine hanbok group from the inside. she thought that if i could get close to you and learn about your company’s operations, it would give us an edge. all i'm doing is going along with it.”

haejoon’s eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, but he remained silent, absorbing the information. he appeared to be considering the implications of namjoon’s revelation. after a moment, he nodded, seemingly satisfied with the explanation. “alright,” he said finally. “i’ll leave it at that.”

as he turned to leave, namjoon’s voice stopped him. “why do you hate me so much, haejoon?” he paused, his back still turned. for a moment, the room was filled with a heavy silence. he didn’t respond, and the tension between the two brothers was palpable. with that, he walked out of the study, leaving his stepbrother alone with a heavy heart.

the day at school had been unusually tense. as you navigated through your classes and interactions with classmates, the weight of recent developments lingered heavily on your mind. you had been trying to keep your emotions in check, focusing on your responsibilities, but the lingering thoughts of namjoon and the complexities of your relationship with him kept resurfacing.

he, too, seemed preoccupied. he found you during lunch, his usual confident demeanor replaced with a look of vulnerability. as you sat together, you noticed the tension in his shoulders and the sadness in his eyes. “can we talk?” he asked, his voice softer than usual. you nodded, leading him to a quieter corner of the school grounds where you could have some privacy. “what’s on your mind?”

he took a deep breath, struggling to articulate his feelings. “it’s haejoon. i’ve always wanted his approval, his love, but no matter what i do, it feels like i'm never enough. it’s like no matter how hard i try, i'm just not able to earn his respect.”

you could see the pain in his eyes, and it tugged at your heart. without hesitation, you pulled him into a comforting hug, your arms encircling him in a gesture of reassurance. “you’re enough, namjoon. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. you’re doing your best, and that’s all anyone can ask.” his breath hitched slightly as he absorbed the comfort you offered. in that embrace, he felt a wave of emotions he had been trying to suppress. the connection between you deepened, and he realized that his feelings for you had grown beyond mere friendship.

later that day, he sought out soyeon in the crowded hallways. he found her standing near her locker, her posture rigid and her expression expectant. “soyeon,” he began, his voice firm but conflicted, “i need to talk to you about the plan.”

her eyes narrowed, a hint of irritation in her gaze. “oh? what about it?” his resolve was clear. “i’m calling it off. i can’t go through with it. i'm not going to sabotage hanbok group or manipulate (y/n).”

her eyebrows shot up in surprise, her lips curling into a sardonic smile. “caught feelings, have we?” his silence was all the confirmation she needed. her expression shifted from mockery to anger. “you’re serious? you’ve actually fallen for her?”

he nodded, his frustration evident. “yes, i have. i can’t do this anymore.” her demeanor grew colder. “you realize what this means, don’t you? if you back out now, i'll go public with our separation. it’ll be a scandal that’ll damage your family’s company even further. you can’t just walk away from this.”

the threat was clear, and namjoon felt the weight of it press down on him. the thought of his company facing additional fallout was unbearable. he was trapped between his burgeoning feelings for you and the ruthless demands of soyeon. swallowing his pride and masking his inner turmoil, he forced himself to comply. “alright,” he said, his voice strained. “i’ll go through with the plan. i’ll make sure it happens.”

her expression softened slightly, satisfied with his compliance. “good. i’ll be watching. don’t disappoint me, namjoon.”

the bond between you and namjoon continued to deepen with each passing day. as the weeks went by, your relationship evolved from friendship to something undeniably more intense. despite the growing affection between you, he struggled internally. he found himself torn between the desire for his family's approval and the undeniable pull of his feelings for you. the more his family praised him for his involvement with you, the more conflicted he felt.

one night, the hanbok nightclub was abuzz with activity. the grand opening had been a resounding success, and the club had quickly become one of the city's most talked-about venues. you were there, dressed in a stunning gold dress that shimmered under the nightclub's lights. you had taken up a spot on the floor above, enjoying the view and savoring the evening.

namjoon spotted you from the dance floor below and felt a rush of admiration. the way your dress sparkled in the ambient light, the elegance with which you carried yourself—everything about you seemed to captivate him. he made his way up to where you were standing, his eyes never leaving you as he approached. “(y/n),” he said softly, his voice almost lost amidst the noise of the club. “you look absolutely mesmerizing tonight.”

you turned to face him, a smile spreading across your lips. his words, combined with the way he looked at you, made your heart race. the intensity of the moment was palpable, and you both seemed to forget about everything else around you. the music and chatter of the nightclub faded into the background as the connection between you grew stronger.

his gaze dropped to your lips, and before either of you could second-guess it, he leaned in and kissed you. the kiss was gentle at first, but quickly escalated into something more passionate. his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the world outside seemed to vanish. caught up in the moment, you pulled away slightly, your breath mingling with his. “there are private rooms in the back,” you whispered, a mischievous glint in your eye. “we could have more privacy there.”

he nodded, his eyes dark with desire. without another word, you took his hand and guided him through the crowd, leading him towards the back of the nightclub. the private rooms were a secluded escape from the bustling main area, providing a more intimate setting. once inside, the room was dimly lit, with plush furnishings and a cozy atmosphere. the door closed behind you, shutting out the noise and leaving you both in a private sanctuary. as soon as you were alone, his lips found yours again, the kiss heated and fervent. his hands roamed your body, exploring and caressing with a hunger that matched your own.

you guided him to a nearby sofa, where you both sank into the cushions, the kisses growing more urgent. the warmth of his body against yours, the way his hands traced your curves, and the intensity of his gaze made everything feel electric.

namjoon stepped closer, his eyes devouring you body like a starving man. he reached out and traced a finger along the neckline of your dress, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. "you look incredible," he murmured, his voice a velvet rumble that seemed to resonate in your very bones. “take it off for me.”

your hands trembled slightly as you obeyed, the fabric sliding down your body to pool at your feet. you stepped out of the dress, revealing the lacy lingerie that matched the color of the gold fabric. he took a sharp breath in, his eyes widening with desire. “i knew you'd look even better without it,” he said, his voice thick with lust.

he stepped closer, closing the distance between you, and before you could react, he had you pressed against the nearest wall. his hands roamed your body, gripping your hips, then sliding up to cup your tits. he squeezed gently, his thumbs flicking over your hardened nipples. “you're so fucking perfect,” he whispered against your neck, his breath hot and heavy. you gasped, arching into his touch, your body begging for more.

he leaned in and claimed your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue invading yours with a hunger that left you breathless. you could feel the bulge in his pants, pressing against you, a silent promise of what was to come. his hands slid down to the hem of your panties, and with a swift motion, he ripped them away. the sound of the fabric tearing filled the room, a declaration of his intent.

he stepped back, admiring your naked form, his eyes lingering on the apex of your thighs. “spread your legs for me,” he ordered, his voice firm and demanding. you complied, your legs quivering with anticipation. he dropped to his knees, his breath hot against your skin. “you're so wet already,” he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. he licked a slow path up your slit, and you cried out, nails digging into the wall behind you.

he stood up, unbuckling his pants with swift, efficient movements. his cock sprang free, thick and hard, and you couldn't help but stare. “like what you see?” he smirked, stroking himself slowly. you nodded, your mouth dry with desire. “good, because you're about to get a taste.”

without warning, he plunged into you, filling you up in one swift motion. you cried out, your body stretching to accommodate his size. he didn't stop, his hips moving in a steady, punishing rhythm that had you seeing stars. “you're so tight,” he groaned, his grip on her hips tightening. “i can feel every inch of you.”

your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, the sound of your skin slapping echoing in the quiet room. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, walls clenching around him. he leaned in, whispering filthy words into your ear, telling you exactly how good you felt, how much he wanted you. you met each thrust with one of your own, hips rolling to meet his, driving him even deeper.

the tension built between you, a crescendo of passion that could no longer be contained. you both knew what was coming, the inevitable explosion that would shake you to your very cores. you were lost in each other, hearts pounding in time with the music that pulsed through the walls. as you both approached the edge, your movements grew more frantic, breaths more ragged. “i love you,” you gasped, the words slipping out before you could stop them. namjoon's eyes snapped to yours, a look of shock and disbelief crossing his face. but then, a soft smile spread across his lips. “i love you too,” he murmured, his voice filled with a vulnerability you had never heard before.

the next few days unfolded with a whirlwind of emotions and new experiences. your bond with namjoon continued to deepen, growing more intense with each passing moment. the connection you shared became evident to everyone, and photos of the two of you started flooding the internet. the media coverage was relentless, and while it brought both praise and scrutiny, it also highlighted the undeniable chemistry between you.

amidst the flurry of attention, you and him spent more time together, finding solace in each other's company. despite the external chaos, these moments became a refuge where you could escape the pressures and expectations that surrounded you. one evening, as you both sat in the lounge of the nightclub after hours, namjoon looked contemplative, his usual confident demeanor replaced by a quiet seriousness. the soft glow of the dim lights cast a warm hue over his face, revealing the subtle lines of worry etched upon it.

“you know,” he began, his voice low and hesitant, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.” you turned to him, your curiosity piqued. “what is it, namjoon?”

he took a deep breath, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting your eyes again. “it’s about my engagement to soyeon. i've never really talked about it, but i think it’s time you knew.” you listened attentively, sensing the gravity of his words. his expression was one of vulnerability, and it was clear that this was something he had been carrying alone for a long time.

“engagements in our world aren’t always about love,” he continued, his voice tinged with frustration. “it’s more about alliances, business deals, and family expectations. soyeon and i—we’re both trapped in this arrangement because our families want it. neither of us wanted it, but we have to go along with it.” you reached out and took his hand in yours, offering a comforting squeeze. “i'm sorry you’re going through this, namjoon. it must be really difficult, feeling like you’re not in control of your own life.”

he nodded, his eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and guilt. “it is. and i know it’s no excuse for what’s happened between us, but it’s hard not to feel like i’m betraying everyone. the guilt is eating me up inside.” you looked at him with understanding, your heart aching for the turmoil he was experiencing. “you’re not betraying anyone. you’re just trying to find happiness in a situation that’s been forced upon you. it’s okay to feel conflicted.” he remained silent, his gaze fixed on your intertwined fingers. the weight of his confession seemed to lift slightly, but the guilt still lingered in his eyes. your words resonated with his situation too much—everything he had been doing behind your back, it was like he was going against everything he stood for. like he had been lying to you from the very start, but how could he?

the grand opening of wang industries’ new nightclub was set to be a spectacle, a symbol of the flourishing partnership between your company and theirs. the event was meant to be a celebration of collaboration, showcasing the mutual benefits of your alliance. as part of the evening’s arrangement, you and jackson were to make a dramatic entrance together, reinforcing the image of unity between your companies.

you walked into the club with him by your side, his arm wrapped around your waist. the crowd's reaction was immediate and electric, cheers and applause filling the room as the spotlight illuminated the two of you. the public's frenzy was palpable, and the media coverage was intense. it was all part of the plan, a well-orchestrated stunt to make headlines and reinforce the partnership’s strength.

the moment, however, was abruptly interrupted. namjoon, who had been watching from a distance, felt a wave of raw emotion surge through him. the sight of you and jackson together, the way his arm was possessively draped around you, was too much for him to bear. his heart pounded, his feelings of betrayal and jealousy mingling into a potent mix of anger.

without thinking, namjoon strode forward, his face set in a grimace. the crowd fell silent as he approached, the tension in the air thickening. before anyone could react, he threw a punch straight at jackson’s face. the blow landed with a sickening thud, and he stumbled back, surprised but quickly regaining his stance.

“are you out of your mind?” jackson spat, his voice filled with anger. he wiped the blood from his lip, glaring at namjoon. “you've got a lot of stones to throw for someone in a glass house.” your shock was evident as you rushed to jackson's side, wiping away the excess blood as your heart pounded. your wide-eyed gaze switched from one man to the other.

you looked between them, confused and alarmed. “what’s going on? what do you mean by that?” namjoon’s face was a mask of frustration and pain, and he remained silent. jackson’s smirk widened as he seized the opportunity to reveal the truth. “come on, joon, tell her. the house was bound to break at some point.”

your eyes darted from jackson to namjoon, searching for answers. when namjoon didn’t speak, jackson took it upon himself to explain. “your boyfriend and his fiancée had a plan. he was supposed to seduce you to bring down hanbok group from the inside. the whole thing was a setup.” the words hit you like a punch to the gut. “no,” you said, laughing without a hint of humor. “that can’t be true, right?”

the silence that followed was deafening. you looked at namjoon, his eyes filled with tears and regret. the realization sank in, and the truth became painfully clear. his actions, his earlier promises, and the moments you shared—they had all been part of a twisted scheme. the betrayal cut deep. namjoon, his voice choked with remorse, managed to whisper, “i'm sorry.”

the apology only fueled your anger. you brought up your hand, only to bring it down across his face, the sting of the contact echoing your hurt and disappointment. “how could you?” jackson stepped in, smirking at the scene. “who do you think soyeon’s fucking on the side? she tells me everything.”

the betrayal was overwhelming, and you felt as if your world was collapsing around you. all you could think about was getting away from the chaos and the lies. you turned on your heel and fled the nightclub, the sound of the commotion fading behind you as you rushed out into the night. the sting of betrayal and the weight of broken trust were nearly unbearable, and all you wanted was to escape and process the painful reality of what had just been revealed.

as you fled from the nightclub, your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing the betrayal you felt. the cold night air stung your cheeks, but the sharp pain of betrayal was far more intense. you rushed through the dimly lit streets, your breath coming in ragged gasps as tears blurred your vision. behind you, namjoon was desperately trying to catch up. his voice broke through the darkness, filled with anguish and regret. “wait! please, just wait!”

you continued to walk briskly, not wanting to give in. but his relentless pursuit forced you to stop. panting, you faced him, the cold wind whipping through your hair. “everything was a lie?” you demanded, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and disbelief. “you had sex with me, told me you loved me. just like that.”

namjoon’s face was a picture of torment. “no, it wasn’t like that. i meant every word i said. i truly did. i begged soyeon to put the plan off, but she threatened me. said she’d go public and ruin everything if i didn’t follow through. i just—iwanted my family’s approval, and i didn’t know how to stop it.”

his eyes were filled with genuine sorrow, and you could see the depth of his regret. but the hurt and betrayal you felt were too overwhelming. you scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “i hope their approval was worth it.” with that, you turned and walked away, leaving him standing in the middle of the street, watching you retreat. the night seemed darker and colder as you made your way back home, your thoughts racing with the events of the evening.

the next morning, the weight of the previous night’s events was still heavy on your shoulders. as you shuffled through the living room, the television blared with news about the scandal that had erupted. the screen displayed images of you and jackson, along with headlines about the altercation and the fallout from the nightclub’s opening. the impact was immediate and severe. your company’s sales began to plummet, and the media frenzy only added fuel to the fire. the news seemed to taunt you with every broadcast, a relentless reminder of the public humiliation and the damage done.

in the kim manor, however, the atmosphere was quite different. namjoon’s family gathered around, cheering him on as if he had emerged victorious. their approval was palpable, yet namjoon himself was far from triumphant. his face was a mask of despondency, a stark contrast to the elation of those around him.

back in your home, the situation was equally strained. eunha found you in a state of distress, her face etched with concern as she watched the news. despite the severe drop in your company’s sales, she remained a pillar of support. she wrapped her arms around you in a comforting hug, her presence a soothing balm to your wounded spirit. “we’ll get through this,” she assured you. “i’ll take care of the fallout. we’ll find a way to fix this. it’ll all be okay.” her words, though calming, did little to erase the sting of betrayal or the uncertainty of the future. you clung to her reassurance, finding solace in her unwavering support as you both faced the daunting task of repairing the damage and moving forward from the scandal that had rocked your world.

the days following the scandal were a whirlwind of turmoil and distress. the fallout from the nightclub incident extended far beyond the immediate embarrassment. at school, the situation was just as brutal. whispers and mocking glances followed you through the hallways, and every classroom felt like a stage for public ridicule. you were isolated, left to navigate the hostile environment alone. the once familiar faces of your classmates now seemed cold and distant, their earlier camaraderie replaced by harsh judgment.

jackson was the only one who stood by your side. his presence was a rare comfort in the sea of hostility, and he did his best to shield you from the worst of it. he took on the role of a defender, confronting anyone who dared to speak ill of you and making it clear that their behavior was unacceptable. despite his efforts, you couldn’t shake the lingering resentment toward him. his failure to disclose the truth about the scheme had deeply hurt you. His words, though sometimes harsh, were a small consolation amidst the overwhelming negativity.

in the midst of all of it, namjoon watched the drama unfold from a distance, his heart heavy with regret. every time he saw you being treated unjustly, it pierced him deeply. the sight of Jackson standing up for you, despite his own flaws, only highlighted how namjoon had failed to protect you when it mattered most. he grappled with his guilt, knowing he had played a role in the orchestrated chaos that had so thoroughly disrupted your life.

that night, he was scheduled to give a live report regarding the scandal. his family, sensing an opportunity to further their own agenda, encouraged him to use the platform to discredit your company as much as possible. they saw it as a chance to solidify their position and finally diminish your company. despite their pressure, namjoon’s conscience weighed heavily on him. he knew you would be watching, and the thought of adding more pain to your already wounded spirit was unbearable.

when the cameras rolled and the broadcast began, namjoon took a deep breath, bracing himself for the weight of his words. the studio was brightly lit, the atmosphere tense as reporters and cameras focused on him. his heart raced, and for a moment, he struggled to maintain his composure. the pressure to conform to his family's demands was immense, but as he looked into the camera, he saw your face in his mind.

he began his speech with a steely resolve, his voice calm but firm. “to those of you who are watching and, (y/n), i know you’re watching—i want to say this directly to you.” his gaze seemed to penetrate through the camera, reaching out across the miles. “don’t let these people fool you. (y/n) (l/n) and eunha (l/n) built their business from the ground up and used what little resources they had to make it happen. what happened was nothing but a publicity stunt set up by kim group to tear hanbok group down. please, support them as you always have.”

the words hung in the air, their impact palpable. namjoon’s declaration was a shocking turn of events, and the nation watched in stunned silence. for a moment, the spotlight shifted from the scandalous drama to his unexpected defense of your company. the studio fell silent, the only sound being the low hum of the camera equipment.

back at your home, you sat in stunned disbelief as the broadcast played on the television. the room felt eerily quiet as you absorbed his words. the gravity of his statement was overwhelming, and for a moment, you felt as though the world had stopped spinning. the anger and betrayal you had felt were momentarily eclipsed by a flood of conflicting emotions. eunha, who had been beside you through the entire ordeal, was equally shocked. her eyes widened as she listened to his defense, her expression a mixture of astonishment and confusion. the unexpected turn of events left you both in stunned silence, processing the weight of his public declaration.

the impact on hanbok group was immediate and profound. the public’s perception began to shift, with many people rallying in support of your company. the initial backlash softened as the truth behind the scandal was revealed. the sales slump began to recover, and the damage caused by the scandal started to heal.

later that night, the weight of the day's events had left you restless. tossing and turning in bed, you struggled to find solace amidst the turmoil of emotions. the soft glow of the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting gentle shadows across the room. just as you were beginning to drift back into a fitful sleep, a series of urgent knocks echoed through the quiet house, jolting you awake.

confused and still groggy, you made your way to the front door. as you peered through the peephole, your heart skipped a beat. standing on the other side was namjoon, his figure shrouded in the darkness of the night. you opened the door without hesitation, instinctively ushering him inside.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, concern lacing your voice. the chill of the night air had seeped into the hallway, and you quickly pulled him in, closing the door behind him. his face was etched with a mixture of exhaustion and determination. “my speech, it got me kicked out of the house,” he explained, his voice tinged with a note of frustration and sorrow. “i had nowhere else to go.”

you guided him inside, leading him to your room. the warmth of the interior was a welcoming contrast to the cold he had just endured. namjoon’s eyes were filled with remorse as he took in the space, a safe haven he had come to, despite the circumstances.

“i'm so sorry,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “i never meant for any of this to happen. i meant everything i said. i love you, i'd rather be your lover than their successor. if it means losing my family, then i’d rather have you.” his words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity. the vulnerability in his gaze made it clear how deeply he regretted the hurt he had caused. the pain and betrayal you felt were still fresh, but seeing him so raw and honest made something shift within you.

you took a deep breath, your heart aching with a mix of love and lingering hurt. “namjoon,” you said softly, stepping closer to him. “i love you too. i always have. if losing your family means that you can be with me, then i'd rather be your family. i want us to find a way to be together.”

his eyes welled with tears, the weight of his actions and their consequences finally hitting home. he reached out, pulling you into a tender embrace. the warmth of his body against yours was a comfort after the chaos of the day. you both held each other tightly, the silence of the room filled with unspoken promises and the hope of a new beginning.

the night wore on as you both sat together, wrapped in each other's arms. the emotional barriers between you slowly began to dissolve, replaced by a sense of understanding and reconciliation. the world outside continued to spin, but within the safety of your room, the turmoil of the day seemed to fade, leaving only the quiet, steadfast bond between you.

✧.*

a/n: two fanfics in one night is wild ngl lowkey sad but i fw the heirs idc what anybody says the heirs was the blueprint for romance kdramas. kim tan was literally THE blueprint.

troublemaker (트러블) — kim namjoon (김남준)

✧.* 18+

you were trouble, everyone knew it. from the moment you entered a room, you carried an aura that demanded attention, the kind of allure that held people captive in the snare of your presence. in a world where appearances could be weapons, you were the embodiment of femme fatale—an archetype as lethal as it was beguiling. your beauty wasn’t merely skin-deep; it was a complex tapestry woven from threads of danger, allure, and an almost tangible sense of enigma.

your eyes, framed by a cascade of midnight-black lashes, were twin pools of mystery that could ensnare anyone who dared to meet your gaze. they shimmered with an intensity that hinted at secrets too dark to unveil, secrets that whispered of peril and allure in the same breath. when you walked, each step was a masterstroke of elegance and seduction, the hem of your dress swaying like the tendrils of a siren's call. the colors you wore were never just colors; they were statements, woven into the fabric of your being like the brushstrokes of a master painter’s most provocative work.

your voice, when it cut through the ambient hum of a room, was velvet and smoke—rich and inviting, yet laden with the promise of consequences that could spiral into chaos. it could lure and disarm, coaxing even the most guarded heart into the realm of vulnerability. conversations with you were like navigating a labyrinth; each word, each pause, was meticulously crafted to captivate, ensnare, and ultimately control.

in your presence, the air seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly light, an ethereal glow that made reality seem like a mere shadow of the world you conjured. you moved with a grace that was almost otherworldly, a dance that was both hypnotic and dangerous. the way you tilted your head, the slight curve of your smile—it all contributed to a spellbinding performance that kept everyone on edge. if looks could kill, you would have been executed long ago. your mere gaze was a weapon honed to perfection, capable of dismantling the strongest of defenses with a single glance. the enchantment you wielded was not merely a play of physical beauty but a deadly precision of emotional manipulation and psychological prowess. to encounter you was to walk a tightrope over an abyss, where every step was fraught with the potential for either profound enchantment or complete destruction.

you were a canvas of contradictions, a symphony of beauty and menace. each interaction with you was an intricate dance on the edge of a razor, where the thrill of the unknown mingled with the inevitable sting of consequences. In the grand theater of life, you were the lead role in a drama so intense and captivating that it demanded the audience's complete surrender. the enigma you embodied was a work of art in itself, crafted with the precision of a masterful painter and the allure of an ancient legend. you were the perfect embodiment of femme fatale—an archetype so potent that even the hint of your presence could render the most formidable of souls powerless.

you were a vision of lethal elegance, the very embodiment of danger wrapped in glamour. in the dimly lit bar, your presence was nothing short of an intoxicating spell, casting a spell that had everyone under its sway. the room pulsed with life, the throbbing beat of music mingling with the electric current of your allure. all eyes were drawn to you, some with a flicker of lust, others with a trace of envy. you anticipated this reaction with an almost preternatural certainty, knowing exactly how to wield your beauty as a weapon of desire and control.

perched on a plush velvet bar stool, you sipped your martini with an air of nonchalance, the delicate glass catching the ambient light and casting glimmers that mirrored the sparkle in your eyes. the glistening liquid within the glass seemed to reflect the dangerous playfulness that danced beneath your composed facade. every sip was a deliberate act, each moment stretched out to heighten the tension that thrummed through the bar like an electric charge.

as you savored your drink, a man, drawn in by the magnetic pull of your presence, approached you with a confident stride. his gaze was fixated on you with a mixture of desire and admiration. he leaned closer, his voice a low murmur as he offered to buy you another drink. you responded with a smile that could melt steel and a purr that was as soft as it was deadly. “i’m not thirsty anymore,” you whispered, your breath warm against his ear. “in fact, i’ve worked up quite an appetite.”

your words were accompanied by a slow, deliberate exploration of his body—your knee pressed suggestively against the bulge in his pants, your fingertips tracing lazy, teasing patterns along his arm. he was ensnared, mesmerized by the intoxicating blend of your touch and your voice. with each subtle caress, you could feel his resolve dissolving, his body responding with a mix of anticipation and vulnerability. you guided him with practiced ease toward the staircase leading up to the hotel above the club. each step you took was measured, each glance you cast over your shoulder a calculated part of the seduction. when you reached the room you had rented hours before, the anticipation hung in the air like a charged current.

inside the room, the atmosphere shifted from the vibrant chaos of the bar to an intimate and charged tension. you pushed him onto the bed with a combination of grace and dominance, your lips finding his in a heated kiss that spoke of all the promises and perils to come. as the passion intensified, you suddenly pulled away, a playful smirk curling at the corners of your lips. “wait here,” you instructed, your voice a velvet command as you slipped away to the bathroom. the soft click of the door closing behind you was the only sound before you emerged, your form now adorned only in a lacy bra and panties. in your hands, you held a bundle of rope, its coiled lengths a stark contrast to your alluring appearance. you presented it to him with a languid, almost theatrical flourish, the rope glistening in the soft light as you displayed it with a provocative grace.

his eyes were locked on the rope, his eagerness palpable as he reached out, his breath quickening with anticipation. but before he could fully grasp his desires, you were swift and unerring. the rope was suddenly around his throat, its fibers cold and unyielding against his skin. his eyes widened in shock, a strangled gasp escaping his lips as he struggled to breathe. the thrill of the moment was palpable in the room, the transformation from seduction to danger swift and complete.

your expression remained impassive, almost detached, as you tightened the rope with measured precision. you watched with an indifferent gaze as the life began to ebb from his eyes, the struggle growing weaker with each tightening of the rope. the room was silent save for the faint, strangled sounds of his attempts to breathe, and your own calm, steady breaths as you held him in your grip.

once the light of life had dimmed from his eyes, you released the rope with a smooth, practiced motion, the finality of your actions as clean and efficient as the execution of a well-rehearsed performance. without a moment's hesitation, you retrieved your phone from the nightstand, dialing the number you knew by heart. your voice was cool and composed as you delivered the message, “the job’s finished.” the transaction was complete, your demeanor as flawless and unperturbed as ever. the power of your presence, combined with the lethal precision of your actions, left no room for doubt. your looks could, indeed, kill.

in the dimly lit ambiance of a high-end club, where shadows danced along the walls and whispers wove through the air like silk, kim namjoon emerged as a figure of compelling elegance and magnetic allure. his presence was a striking contrast to the dim setting, an embodiment of polished sophistication and commanding charm. from the moment he entered the room, it was as if the very air around him shifted, aligning with his undeniable magnetism.

his appearance was nothing short of captivating. his sharp, chiseled features were sculpted with an artist’s precision—his high cheekbones, a strong, defined jawline, and the perfectly straight bridge of his nose created a visage that could have been plucked from the pages of a fashion magazine. his eyes, dark and intense, held a glimmer of mischief beneath their calm facade. they were the kind of eyes that seemed to see through every pretense, a deep, penetrating gaze that drew people in and held them captive, like a spell they were powerless to break.

his hair was styled with an effortless grace, each strand falling into place as if it had been carefully tousled by an unseen hand. it framed his face with an artful disarray that only enhanced his allure, giving him a look that was both casually disheveled and meticulously groomed. every movement he made was fluid, a smooth, deliberate motion that spoke of both confidence and control. his attire—a perfectly tailored suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and lean frame—was a testament to his keen sense of style. the fabric draped over him with an elegance that was both understated and luxurious, the dark hue of his suit contrasting sharply with the warm glow of the club’s lighting.

as he navigated through the room, every step seemed to radiate a quiet power, his aura compelling and commanding. there was an inherent grace to his movements, a calculated ease that made him seem as though he were gliding rather than walking. women turned their heads as he passed, their gazes lingering with a mixture of admiration and desire, their reactions a testament to the impact of his presence.

he knew precisely how to wield his beauty and charm, turning it into a weapon of seduction and influence. his smile was a carefully honed tool, flashing with just the right amount of warmth and allure to disarm even the most guarded soul. it was a smile that suggested both confidence and an intimate understanding of human nature, a combination that made him irresistibly intriguing. in conversation, his voice was a smooth, velvety timbre that could both soothe and stir, a voice that could command attention or whisper promises of indulgence. each word he spoke was measured and deliberate, imbued with a charisma that made every interaction feel like a dance. he could make the simplest of exchanges seem like a tantalizing game, where every glance and every phrase was part of a larger, more complex play.

kim namjoon was more than just a man of striking appearance; he was an embodiment of an almost otherworldly charm that made him a force to be reckoned with. his beauty was not merely skin-deep but a carefully curated blend of aesthetics and allure, sharpened by a sly intelligence and a commanding presence. his very being radiated a magnetic energy that drew others to him, an aura of irresistible power and charm that made him both a captivating enigma and an undeniable force.

as he moved through the crowded club, his presence was like a magnetic force drawing the eyes of every observer, yet his attention was singularly focused on one woman. she was a vision of allure, her eyes locked onto him with an unspoken recognition of his power and charm. he approached her with a fluid grace, his every movement deliberate and poised.

he came from behind her, his touch an intimate caress that seemed to awaken a shiver down her spine. she arched into his touch, as if her body had anticipated his arrival, responding to his presence with a blend of eagerness and trust. his fingers traced a path along her delicate skin, sending waves of warmth and anticipation through her. leaning in, he whispered in her ear, his breath hot and tantalizing. “do you wanna get out of here?” the words were laced with a promise of excitement and danger, an invitation wrapped in seductive undertones. she nodded almost imperceptibly, her lips curving into a smile of eager compliance as she allowed him to guide her through the throng of revelers.

as they navigated their way out of the club, namjoon’s hands continued their languid exploration along her back and sides, each touch a reminder of the allure he wielded with such ease. they moved together in a rhythm of anticipation, their path illuminated by the flashing lights of the city as they ventured into the shadowed recesses of an alleyway. in the quiet, obscured alley, the vibrant chaos of the club seemed like a distant memory. his whispers became more insistent, his words slipping into a darker, more provocative territory. the woman's excitement was palpable, her breath hitching as his voice wove a tantalizing promise of what was to come.

as they reached a more secluded spot, his hand brushed against his pocket, his keys falling from his grasp and clattering onto the ground. he paused to retrieve them, his movements precise and deliberate. it was in this moment of vulnerability that the woman's anticipation turned to confusion, her eyes widening as the reality of her situation began to dawn on her.

in a swift, practiced motion, his demeanor shifted from seductive to menacing. as he straightened, his hands were no longer gentle but cruelly firm. his fingers closed around her throat with an unyielding grip, his strength a chilling contrast to the tenderness he had earlier exhibited. her eyes, once filled with lust, were now wide with a horror that seemed to freeze time itself. he applied pressure with a cold efficiency, the life gradually ebbing from her eyes as she struggled against the relentless force of his grip. he watched impassively as the light in her eyes dimmed, her struggles growing weaker until her body went limp. the transition from desire to demise was abrupt, the room falling into a stifling silence as she dropped dead at his feet.

with her lifeless body at his feet, namjoon remained calm, his expression a mask of unperturbed satisfaction. he removed his phone from his pocket with the same grace he had shown throughout the evening, his fingers moving with practiced precision. dialing a number, he spoke into the phone with a voice that was as cool and collected as ever. “the job’s finished,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion, a stark contrast to the passionate persona he had so masterfully projected moments before. the efficiency of his actions, the seamless transition from charm to ruthlessness, underscored the true extent of his dangerous allure. kim namjoon was a master of manipulation, his beauty and charm just facets of a more profound and deadly artistry.

the morning sun cast a golden haze across the room, its rays filtering through the gauzy curtains and illuminating the opulent space in a soft, ethereal glow. you sat gracefully at the edge of a lavish, velvet-clad armchair, a picture of effortless sophistication. in your hand, you held a glass of deep, ruby-red wine, the liquid swirling gently as you lifted it to your lips. the wine’s rich aroma filled the air, mingling with the faint hint of your perfume—a heady blend of jasmine and sandalwood.

there was a certain serenity in the ritual of your morning indulgence, despite the gnawing presence of alcohol's creeping dependence. the wine had become both a sanctuary and a torment, a paradoxical solace that masked the terror of its increasing hold over you. each sip was a delicate escape from the relentless pressure of your world, a brief respite before the day's demands unfolded.

as you savored the wine, your phone buzzed on the polished marble table beside you. the sharp, insistent sound shattered the tranquil cocoon you had wrapped yourself in. with a graceful motion, you reached for the device, your fingers curling around it with a practiced ease. the screen lit up with the name of your boss, and a flicker of tension passed through you.

you answered the call, your voice steady and composed despite the slight edge of apprehension that had begun to surface. “yes?” you intoned, your tone smooth but alert. the voice on the other end was cold, the authority it wielded palpable even through the phone. “listen closely,” she commanded, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken threats. “we have a high-priority target for you today. this isn’t just any assignment. you’re to eliminate kim namjoon.”

the name hit you with an unexpected force, a jolt that made you sit up straighter. you had heard whispers about him, tales spun in dark corners and hushed conversations, but it all seemed like distant lore—stories of a man who was, in your mind, nothing more than an intriguing footnote. now, the reality of the task set before you was both startling and intensely personal. “kim namjoon?” you repeated, your voice a blend of disbelief and challenge. the name rolled off your tongue, testing the weight of its significance. “i’ve heard of him. he’s part of a rival team, correct?”

“correct,” she affirmed, her tone leaving no room for doubt. “he's a significant player, a dangerous one. this job requires precision. you must understand the risks. he’s not to be underestimated. we need this done cleanly and without trace. his elimination will shift the balance in our favor.” the intensity of her words sharpened the focus of the task ahead. the air around you seemed to thicken with the gravity of the assignment, the warmth of the wine now mingling with a cool edge of determination. the threat posed by namjoon wasn’t just about personal rivalry; it was a crucial move in a broader, more intricate game.

you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the responsibility settle upon your shoulders. your resolve hardened, the initial disbelief melting into a fierce, unwavering determination. “i understand,” you said, your voice resolute. “i assure you, the job will be finished in no time.” with that, the call ended, leaving you with the echo of her command and the impending challenge that loomed large in your mind. you set the wine glass down, its contents reflecting the slivers of sunlight that now seemed to pierce through your calm exterior. the stakes had been set, the target identified, and the path forward was clear.

kim namjoon would be your next conquest, a puzzle to be solved with the precision and finesse that defined your craft. the thrill of the hunt coursed through you, blending with the calm confidence you had cultivated over countless assignments. the morning’s tranquility had dissipated, replaced by a focused intensity that sharpened your every sense. the game was on, and you were ready to meet it head-on.

the morning sun peeked through the narrow gap in the curtains, casting a hazy light that filtered through the cluttered room. namjoon sat at the small kitchen table, cradling a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. the rich aroma of the brew was a stark contrast to the disarray that surrounded him. his gaze was fixed on the scene before him—his disheveled roommate sprawled across the couch, the telltale signs of a wild night evident in the scattered cans of alcohol and the faint scent of stale beer that clung to the air.

namjoon’s distaste for alcohol was well-known, a preference rooted in the queasiness it induced rather than any moral stance. to him, the presence of the empty cans was a nauseating reminder of indulgences he avoided. he turned his attention back to the comforting warmth of his coffee, seeking solace in its steady, untroubled existence. the silence of the morning was abruptly broken by the shrill ring of his phone, an intrusion that jolted him from his thoughts. he glanced at his roommate, ensuring that the phone’s call wouldn’t disturb his friend’s slumber. with a deft motion, he picked up the phone, his fingers moving with practiced ease as he answered.

the voice on the other end was as sharp and commanding as ever. “namjoon, good morning,” his boss greeted, the tone both professional and serious. “i trust you’re ready for the next assignment?” he nodded, even though his boss couldn’t see him. “of course,” he replied, his voice steady and attentive. “what’s the task?”

there was a moment of silence, heavy with anticipation, before his boss continued. “today’s assignment is likely the hardest one you’ve faced. we’ve come across a particularly elusive target. her name is (y/n) (l/n), and she’s not just any case. she’s known for her lethal precision and cunning. the stories you’ve heard about her are not mere rumors; they’re a testament to her skills.”

the gravity of the warning was palpable, and namjoon’s interest was piqued. he had heard fragmented stories about a woman of your reputation, a figure shrouded in intrigue and danger. he had never expected his path would cross with someone like you, nor had he anticipated the challenge this would present. “understood,” he said, his tone taking on a determined edge. “i’m aware of her reputation. if she’s as formidable as you say, i’ll handle it with the utmost care. rest assured, i’ll eliminate her with the precision and efficiency expected.”

the conversation concluded with a sense of mutual understanding and resolve. namjoon ended the call, his mind already strategizing the best approach to the task at hand. he looked once more at his roommate, who remained oblivious to the gravity of the conversation that had just transpired. with his coffee in hand and a newfound determination, he prepared himself for the day. the sight of the alcohol-strewn room and the hungover state of his friend were now just background noise, eclipsed by the seriousness of the mission ahead. the challenge posed by you—an enigmatic and dangerous opponent—was about to become the focal point of his day, a test of his skills and resolve that would push him to his limits.

you entered the coffee shop, the soft hum of conversation and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloping you in a warm embrace. the morning light streamed through the large windows, casting a serene glow over the rustic wooden tables and mismatched chairs. as you walked to the counter, your mind buzzed with tactical considerations, strategizing the most effective approach to handling the formidable kim namjoon. the complexities of the task at hand melded with your thoughts, each possibility and scenario swirling in your head like the delicate patterns in your latte.

you placed your order with a casual ease, the barista’s polite nods and friendly banter barely registering as you were lost in contemplation. when you finally settled into a corner booth, the quiet rustle of newspapers and the clinking of cups provided a backdrop to your musings. men around the café couldn't help but steal glances in your direction, their eyes lingering with a mix of admiration and intrigue. you were accustomed to such attention, a mere side effect of the aura you carried, but it never failed to draw your awareness.

as you were absorbed in your thoughts, a voice interrupted the solitude of your reflection. “must be tiring, isn’t it? getting looks like that all the time?” the voice was warm and smooth, laced with a hint of curiosity. you turned your head to find a man standing by your table, a friendly smile playing on his lips. he had an air of casual confidence, his demeanor effortless and disarming. you couldn’t help but notice the way he seemed to effortlessly attract the gaze of those around him, much like you did. offering him a measured smile, you replied, “it seems like you’re no stranger to stares yourself,” gesturing toward the group of women who were openly admiring him from across the room.

he laughed softly, a sound that was both genuine and charming. “true enough,” he said with a shrug. “but it’s something i’ve chosen to ignore.” you tilted your head slightly, a playful glint in your eyes. “would you like to join me? it looks like most of the other seats are taken.” without hesitation, he accepted your offer and slid into the seat across from you. As he settled in, he extended his hand with a graceful flourish.

“i’m kim namjoon,” he introduced himself, his voice steady and inviting. a chill ran down your spine as the name registered, a shockwave of realization coursing through you. was it fate? you fought to maintain your composure, your face draining of color as you processed the situation. with a controlled breath, you extended your own hand and offered a smile. “i’m (y/n) (l/n). it’s nice to meet you, namjoon.”

his eyes widened imperceptibly, a moment of surprise flickering across his face before he masked it with a practiced ease. you were even more striking than he had imagined from the stories he had heard—an ethereal beauty that exceeded every expectation. his heart sank slightly, a sinking feeling that hinted at the gravity of the situation.

the two of you engaged in conversation, each of you carefully concealing your underlying tension. namjoon asked about your work, his curiosity piqued. you swallowed your nerves and fabricated a story, telling him that you worked in finance. his gaze remained steady, though the mention of your profession triggered an internal churn in his stomach. he responded with a lie of his own, claiming to work in business management—an elaborate deception. as the conversation flowed, punctuated by casual laughter and probing questions, you felt the delicate balance of this encounter shift. the façade of casual coffee talk masked the underlying intensity of your real interactions. with every exchange, you assessed his reactions, every nuance of his demeanor scrutinized as you navigated this unexpected encounter.

when the time felt right, you reached into your bag and pulled out a slip of paper, extending it toward him with a nonchalant air. “here’s my number. it would be nice to continue our conversation sometime.” he accepted the slip with a genuine smile, his eyes reflecting a mixture of intrigue and admiration. “i’d like that,” he said warmly, his tone sincere. “i’m looking forward to seeing you again soon.”

with that, you gathered your things, the weight of the morning’s revelations settling heavily on your shoulders. as you stood and made your way to the door, his gaze followed you, a lingering reminder of the complex web you had just woven. the encounter had been more than mere chance; it was a delicate dance of deception and allure, setting the stage for the intricate game that lay ahead. the bell above the café door chimed softly as you exited, leaving behind the warm, inviting space and the enigmatic man who would soon become central to your plans. the city outside bustled with its usual rhythm, but within you, a storm of anticipation and calculation brewed, your path now irrevocably entwined with his.

you paced your room with a measured intensity, the rhythmic scuff of your heels against the floor mirroring the churn of your thoughts. the walls seemed to close in, laden with the weight of strategy and anticipation. every corner of the room held a potential plan, a calculated move in the intricate game you and namjoon were unwittingly playing. the persistent buzz of your phone interrupted your brooding. you glanced at the screen, recognizing namjoon’s name. with a composed breath, you answered. “hello?”

“hey, (y/n),” his voice came through with a casual warmth. “i was wondering if you’d be interested in grabbing lunch sometime today. or am i already being too clingy?” you couldn’t help but laugh, a sound that was as light as it was genuine. “i’d love to have lunch with you, namjoon. where do you want to go?”

he suggested a charming bistro not far from where you were staying, a place known for its elegant ambiance and exquisite cuisine. you agreed, and after hanging up, you turned your attention to your wardrobe. selecting a dress that clung to your curves with just the right balance of elegance and allure, you prepared to meet your unexpected lunch companion.

arriving at the bistro, you found him already seated at a table near the window, his gaze scanning the room with an anticipation that matched your own. when he saw you, his eyes widened slightly, a clear reaction to your striking appearance. the corner of his mouth lifted in a genuine smile that softened the usual sharpness of his features.

“wow,” he said as you approached, his voice tinged with admiration. “you look amazing.” you smiled, feeling a warm flush of pleasure. “thanks. you don’t look too bad yourself.”

you both settled into the cozy booth, the soft light of the bistro casting a flattering glow on both of you. the menu was soon presented, and you made a decision almost automatically. “should we start with a bottle of wine?” you suggested, the words flowing with casual ease. his demeanor shifted subtly, a fleeting shadow crossing his face as he flinched slightly at your choice. “actually,” he began, hesitating for a moment, “i’m not really fond of alcohol.”

your curiosity was piqued. “oh? why’s that?” he leaned back slightly, his expression thoughtful. “my father was an alcoholic. it left a pretty negative impression on me. i avoid it whenever i can.”

you noted the pained edge in his voice, your own heart twisting in sympathy. “i’m sorry to hear that. let me get us a coffee instead. we can still enjoy a great meal without the wine.” namjoon’s smile brightened with genuine appreciation. “that sounds perfect. thank you.” you signaled the waiter and changed the order, opting for coffee instead. namjoon’s gratitude was evident in his appreciative nod, his eyes softening as he watched you.

the conversation flowed naturally, a gentle exchange about his father and the memories that lingered. “he was involved in some dangerous dealings,” he recounted. “the debts caught up with him, and eventually, it cost him his life. it’s a part of my past that’s hard to shake off.” you reached out, placing a comforting hand over his. “i’m truly sorry for your loss, namjoon. it must have been incredibly difficult.”

his gaze met yours, a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability shining through. “thank you. it’s been a challenge, but i’ve managed to move forward. meeting someone like you today has been a nice distraction.” as the food arrived, he leaned forward to serve himself. in a moment of unanticipated clumsiness, his glass of water tipped precariously on the edge of the table. instinctively, you reached out with practiced precision, catching the glass before it could hit the floor. it fell into your grip with barely a sound.

his eyes widened as he watched the maneuver, a dawning realization of your skill and preparedness clear in his gaze. “you’re pretty adept at handling situations,” he commented, a note of surprise in his voice. you shrugged lightly, attempting to downplay the incident. “just a little bit of practice. nothing to worry about.”

with a playful smile, you encouraged him to continue enjoying the meal. as the conversation resumed, the initial tension between you seemed to ease, replaced by a genuine connection forged over shared stories and experiences. the food was delightful, and the time spent together was as pleasant as it was unexpected. both of you indulged in the meal, savoring each bite and drink as if it were a reprieve from the unspoken truths hovering just beneath the surface. the lunch was more than a simple meeting—it was an intricate dance of charm and deception, a prelude to the complexities that lay ahead.

as you and namjoon strolled back toward your place, the conversation flowed effortlessly, the natural rhythm of it making the day feel almost ordinary. the world seemed to hum in harmony, your laughter mingling with the ambient sounds of the city, creating a brief respite from the tension that lurked beneath the surface.

however, as you approached a lamppost with a memorial photo attached, you felt a sudden jolt. the image on the pole was unmistakable—the face of the man you had eliminated the previous night. his eyes seemed to stare out from the photograph with a haunting, silent plea, and you shuddered involuntarily. namjoon, noticing your abrupt halt and the sudden pallor of your face, turned with concern. “what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gentle but laced with worry.

you swallowed hard, struggling to compose yourself. “i knew him,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “he was a friend.” his expression softened with empathy. “i'm sorry. that must be really tough.”

you offered him a shaky smile, appreciating his kindness. “thank you.” the two of you continued walking in contemplative silence until you reached your house. you turned to face namjoon, your heart swelling with a mix of emotions. without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him in a warm, genuine hug. it was a simple gesture, free from any ulterior motives, and as you held him close, you felt a fleeting connection that seemed both comforting and poignant.

his smile broadened as he returned the hug, his embrace warm and reassuring. “good night, (y/n),” he said softly. “i’ll see you soon.”

“good night, namjoon,” you replied, pulling away and watching him walk down the street with a bittersweet feeling.

as he made his way home, the streets began to fade into the distance, and he took out his phone. the sense of unease that had been bubbling beneath the surface now surfaced with a jolt. with a few swift taps, he brought up the details of the deceased man’s profile. his eyes widened in shock as he read the police report—the victim had been strangled to death with rope, and the case was eerily devoid of leads or footage.

his mind raced, the chilling realization of the situation dawning upon him. the pieces of the puzzle fell into place with unnerving clarity. he had just spent the afternoon with the very person who had carried out such a methodical and lethal act. the connection between you and the man on the pole was a stark revelation, and the weight of the truth settled heavily upon him. he shuddered, his thoughts spinning as he grappled with the realization of who you truly were—and what he now had to confront. the night seemed to grow darker and more foreboding as he walked, each step echoing the grim understanding that had just settled into his gut.

the next evening, you found yourself once again in the opulent embrace of the hotel. the grand ballroom, resplendent with its glimmering chandeliers and elaborate decor, was a far cry from the grim memories it held for you. the place where you had claimed your previous victim now seemed almost serene, its beauty contrasting starkly with the dark deeds that had unfolded within its walls. with practiced ease, you adjusted the earpiece nestled in your ear and connected with your boss. the cool, metallic voice of your superior resonated through the small device, crisp and unwavering.

“(y/n), are you in position?” the voice inquired. “yes,” you replied, your tone steady. “i'm monitoring the cctv feeds now. the hallways are clear, and namjoon should be arriving soon.”

“good. remember, we need to ensure the task is completed efficiently. keep your wits about you and stay focused.”

“understood,” you said, disconnecting the call and turning your attention back to the array of monitors before you. the security cameras provided a meticulous view of the hotel's layout, allowing you to track every movement with precision. your gaze was fixed on the entrance, waiting for namjoon’s arrival. when he finally appeared, impeccably dressed in a sharp suit that accentuated his striking features, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of anticipation. he moved with a confident grace that only added to his allure, and you watched as he navigated through the crowd.

as soon as he entered the room, you swiftly disconnected from the monitoring feed, leaving the cameras to their own devices. you made your way through the throng of elegantly dressed guests, your heart beating with an unusual mixture of excitement and trepidation. “namjoon!” you called out, your smile warm as you approached him. he turned, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. “hey, you look absolutely stunning.”

“thank you,” you said with a playful glint in your eye. “should we head to the bar? i thought we might enjoy a drink.” the two of you made your way to the bar, the conversation flowing as naturally as it had the day before. you refrained from drinking, choosing instead to sip on sparkling water, a choice that did not go unnoticed by him. he observed you with a blend of admiration and curiosity.

“why no drinks tonight?” he asked, leaning closer to you, his voice a soft murmur. you met his gaze with a calm smile. “just a personal preference. i don't wanna drink in front of you.”

his heart swelled at your sincerity. “that’s admirable. i wish i had your self-control.”

after some time spent in pleasant conversation and gentle flirtation, you glanced at him with a knowing look. “if the noise gets too overwhelming, i’ve rented out a room here. we can escape the crowd if you’d like.” he seemed intrigued and a bit relieved. “that sounds like a great idea. lead the way.”

you guided him through the bustling crowd, the stares of other guests momentarily ignored as you made your way to the reserved room. the door closed behind you with a soft click, and an almost palpable shift occurred in the atmosphere. the room, dimly lit and serene, was a stark contrast to the lively chaos of the gala. as you stood there, his gaze was filled with a mix of awe and longing. without a word, he closed the distance between you, his eyes locked onto yours with a intensity that made your breath catch. he leaned in slowly, and you felt his lips brush against yours in a tentative, electrifying kiss.

you responded with equal fervor, your lips meeting his with a growing urgency. the kiss deepened, turning heated and passionate as the world outside seemed to fade away. his hands roamed your back, pulling you closer as his lips moved with a fervent intensity. your fingers tangled in his hair, guiding him as the kiss became a fervent dance of desire and need.

his hands traveled to your waist, lifting you effortlessly and guiding you to the bed. you landed softly on the plush surface, your body arching slightly as namjoon followed, his lips never leaving yours. the bed beneath you was a luxurious expanse, and the sensation of his body pressing against yours was intoxicating.

his kisses trailed from your lips to your neck, his breath hot and uneven as he explored your skin. you moaned softly, the sound mingling with the rustling of fabric as he undressed you with a careful urgency. his touches were both tender and possessive, his desire evident in every caress. “you feel incredible,” he whispered between kisses, his voice a deep rumble that sent shivers down your spine. “show me,” you breathed, your hands pulling him closer as the night unfolded in a passionate dance of exploration and desire. the world outside became a distant memory as the two of you lost yourselves in the moment, the intensity of your connection making every touch, every kiss, a thrilling and unforgettable experience.

his fingers traced the contours of your body, memorizing every curve and dip with a reverence that made you feel worshipped. his eyes, dark with lust, took in the sight of you laid bare before him. “so pretty,” he murmured, his voice thick with want. you felt a rush of heat pool in your belly at his words, and you reached for him, eager to return the favor. your hands found the hem of his shirt, and with a quick tug, you pulled it over his head, revealing the firm planes of his chest.

his skin was warm and smooth under your fingertips, and you took a moment to appreciate the sculpted muscles and the faint scent of his cologne that lingered. your eyes traveled down to the waistband of his pants, and a devilish smile played on your lips. you bit your bottom lip, and with a seductive glance, began to unbuckle his belt. namjoon watched you, his pupils dilated with anticipation.

once his pants were discarded, you took in the full view of him, your eyes widening with desire. he was already hard, his arousal clear and prominent. you reached out, your hand lightly brushing against his length, and he hissed through gritted teeth. you wrapped your hand around him, feeling him pulse in response to your touch. “fuck, you’re so big,” you said, a hint of wonder in your voice.

his hips rolled into your touch, and he groaned, his head falling back. “yeah, baby, just like that,” he encouraged, his voice low and strained. you stroked him slowly, savoring the feel of his skin, hot and velvety under your palm. “you’re so fucking sexy,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. your heart raced as you felt the power of his desire in your grasp. “i want you so badly,” you admitted, your voice a breathy whisper.

his hand reached down to cup your cheek, pulling you back up for a kiss that was as fiery as the passion in your veins. you could feel his urgency, the need to claim you, to make you his in every way possible. your hand didn’t stop moving, but instead picked up the pace, your thumb circling the sensitive head of his cock. “i need to be inside you,” he growled, his control slipping.

his words sent a bolt of excitement through you, and you nodded eagerly. he reached for a condom from the bedside drawer, and you watched as he rolled it on with a practiced ease. the anticipation was palpable as he positioned himself between your legs, the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance. you took a deep breath, ready for the delicious stretch as he pushed inside you.

his first thrust was slow and deliberate, filling you completely. you gasped at the sensation, your nails digging into his shoulders. “fuck, yes,” you moaned, your back arching to meet him. he began to move, his rhythm steady and deep, his eyes never leaving yours. with each stroke, the pleasure built, your body responding to him in a symphony of sensation.

you matched his pace, lifting your hips to meet his every thrust. the room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and muffled moans of pleasure. his grip on your hips tightened, his movements growing more forceful. “you’re so wet for me,” he said, his voice gruff with need.

you couldn’t help but let out a filthy response, the words rolling off your tongue with surprising ease. “i’ve been waiting for this all night. need you to fuck me hard, namjoon.” your words seemed to push him over the edge, and he obeyed, his hips driving into you with a newfound ferocity. the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that had you teetering on the brink of ecstasy.

his thrusts grew erratic, his breathing ragged as he approached climax. you felt your own orgasm building, your muscles clenching around him. “i’m gonna cum, baby,” he warned, his voice tight. you nodded, your eyes locked on his, and together, you fell over the edge, your bodies writhing in a delicious crescendo of pleasure. his release came, moans rolling off his tongue, and you felt yourself shatter around him, the intensity of your climax stealing your breath. for a moment, you were lost in the feeling, your bodies joined as one. as the waves of pleasure receded, he collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving with exertion.

when dawn’s first light filtered through the thin curtains, you awoke to the disorienting haze of reality. the hotel room, now bathed in soft morning light, seemed almost serene compared to the passionate chaos of the night before. you lay on the bed beside namjoon, his body sprawled in a relaxed, innocent slumber, entirely unaware of the dangerous path that had led to this moment.

the memories of last night crashed over you like a tumultuous wave. the intimate connection you had shared with him, the unexpected depth of your feelings, and the chaotic rush of desire—all of it felt like a vivid, intoxicating dream. but reality was a stark contrast. you had a mission, a job to complete, and the time for pleasure had long since passed. as you slowly and carefully disentangled yourself from his warm embrace, you glanced at him. he was completely vulnerable, his handsome face serene and peaceful, the picture of tranquility. it was then that you remembered the task that had been set before you: to eliminate him. you had let your guard down, and it could cost you dearly.

your hand instinctively reached under the pillow where you had left it the night before. your fingers brushed against something cold and metallic. the sensation sent a jolt of adrenaline through you. your breath caught in your throat as you realized what you were holding—a gun. It was not your own; it was an unfamiliar weight that felt both foreign and foreboding. you pulled the gun from beneath the pillow, its cold metal a harsh reminder of the deadly precision required of your role. for a moment, your hand trembled around the grip. the thought of ending his life right then and there, of completing the mission with ruthless efficiency, was overpowering. his calm breathing, so close to you, only added to the intensity of the moment.

you aimed the gun at him, pressing it into his haie, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared at him. every instinct told you to pull the trigger, to end it all quickly and cleanly. but as you tightened your grip, the weight of the decision pressed down on you with crushing force. anger and frustration surged within you. it was supposed to be a straightforward task, a mere job to be done. yet here you were, paralyzed by your own conflicted emotions.

the gun felt heavy in your hand, the responsibility of the act you were about to commit weighing down on you. you cursed under your breath, a raw, guttural sound that seemed to echo your inner turmoil. your eyes burned with unshed tears as you fought with the impulse to follow through with the assassination. the gun trembled in your grasp, your resolve wavering as the reality of what you were about to do loomed large.

in a fit of anger and desperation, you hastily shoved the gun back under the pillow, as though trying to hide the physical manifestation of your internal struggle. you shoved on your dress with frantic movements, your fingers fumbling with the fabric as if it were a shield against the overwhelming emotions crashing over you. without another glance at him, you fled the room. the hallway outside seemed unnervingly quiet, each step echoing with the weight of your decision. your breath came in sharp, ragged gasps as you made your way through the hotel, each step driven by the desperate need to escape the oppressive weight of your failure. the mission had become a tangle of conflicting desires and stark reality, and you were left with the knowledge that you had to confront both, no matter how painful it might be.

the morning had settled into a quiet, contemplative silence as you sank into your armchair, the soothing warmth of the wine mingling with the turmoil in your mind. the shower had washed away the remnants of the night, but it did little to cleanse the confusion and guilt swirling within you. your hair was pinned up, an effort to restore some semblance of order to the chaos you felt inside. the half-empty wine bottle on the table served as a silent testament to your attempts at solace.

as you took another sip, the doorbell’s chime shattered the solitude. your heart skipped a beat. the sound seemed to carry an unspoken promise of complication. you set your glass aside and padded to the door, bracing yourself for whatever awaited you on the other side.

opening the door revealed namjoon, his presence as strikingly composed as ever. his soft smile greeted you, its warmth contrasting sharply with the chill of your internal disarray. “i hope i’m not intruding,” he said, his voice smooth and gentle. you blinked, momentarily lost for words. “not at all,” you managed, stepping aside to let him in. as he crossed the threshold, his gaze fell upon the nearly empty wine bottle, its presence seeming to draw an involuntary frown from his lips.

“do you drink this often?” he inquired, a note of concern edging his tone. you offered a wan smile, trying to mask the discomfort brewing beneath the surface. “i drink as often as i can,” you admitted, trying to sound casual despite the tumult within you.

his eyes softened as he looked at you. “how about we lighten the mood a bit? any plans for today?” relief washed over you at his attempt to steer the conversation away from the wine. “actually, no plans at all,” you said, feeling a flicker of hope. “would you like some breakfast? i could use the company.”

his smile broadened, and he agreed readily. “i’d love that.” you led him to the kitchen, your heart racing with an unsettling mix of anxiety and anticipation. as you prepared breakfast, the knife felt heavier than usual in your hand. each slice through the vegetables seemed to echo with the weight of your thoughts. you clenched the knife tightly, struggling to maintain composure, but namjoon’s voice broke through the haze of your thoughts.

“are you uncomfortable with what happened last night?” his question was gentle, but it carried an undertone of concern that only deepened your internal conflict. you tensed momentarily, the knife’s grip tightening in your hand. “no, not at all,” you said, though your voice wavered slightly. “what about you?”

his smile was reassuring, but it did little to ease the knot in your stomach. “i enjoyed it quite a bit,” he admitted, his eyes holding a glint of sincerity. his compliment, however genuine, did little to dissolve the worry gnawing at you. you could feel his gaze on you as you worked, his presence a constant reminder of the dangerous duality of your situation. yet, amidst the chaos of your thoughts, you couldn’t help but appreciate his genuine demeanor.

as you plated the food, you made a conscious effort to push the wine bottle out of sight, its dark contents now a symbol of a past you wanted to distance yourself from. the wine in your glass met the sink’s drain, a small but significant act of cleansing. namjoon’s eyes widened slightly at the gesture, and he offered a look of quiet gratitude.

the breakfast was pleasant, if a bit tense. as you neared the end of the meal, an idea took shape. “would you be interested in going to the local fair with me?” you asked, trying to offer a distraction from the lingering unease. namjoon’s face lit up with genuine enthusiasm. “that sounds like a great idea. i’d love to.”

as you finished clearing the table, the simple, shared activity brought a momentary respite from the tangled web of your thoughts. the fair, with its bright lights and cheerful bustle, seemed like a perfect escape—a chance to savor normalcy amidst the chaos. little did you know, the fair would bring its own set of revelations and challenges, testing the fragile truce you had established with yourself and with namjoon.

the fair was alive with vibrant hues and lively sounds, a kaleidoscope of lights and music weaving through the crisp evening air. the scent of popcorn and cotton candy mingled with the excitement of the crowd, creating a sensory tapestry that seemed to momentarily lift the weight from your shoulders. namjoon’s presence beside you was both comforting and disconcerting, a constant reminder of the complexity of your situation.

as you strolled past the myriad of stalls and attractions, his enthusiasm was infectious. his laughter rang out, mingling with the ambient noise of the fair, as he pointed out various games and food stands. “you have to try that one,” he said, gesturing toward a colorful stall where a shooting game was set up. curiosity piqued, you followed him to the stand. The game was simple: shoot a gun at moving targets to win a prize. the booth was adorned with bright lights and plush toys, each one more garish than the last. the carnival worker handed namjoon a toy gun with a grin, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as he took it with casual confidence.

his demeanor was relaxed, his face lit up with a childlike excitement as he aimed at the targets. the way his fingers wrapped around the gun was almost graceful, and you could see the focus in his eyes as he lined up each shot. goosebumps pricked your skin, an involuntary reaction to the intensity of the moment. the steady click of the gun punctuated the otherwise joyous cacophony of the fair. each shot he took was precise, hitting the center of the targets with unerring accuracy. his movements were fluid and practiced, a testament to his skill and composure. as he finished, he set the gun down with a satisfied nod, his eyes gleaming with triumph.

“you’re really good at that,” you commented, trying to mask the unease that had settled in your chest. his smile widened, and he reached over to collect his prize—a large, plush stuffed toy, its bright colors and oversized eyes almost comical. he turned to you, his expression a mix of pride and affection. “here,” he said, extending the toy toward you with a charming grin. “i think this is for you.”

your fingers brushed against his as you took the stuffed toy, and you could feel the warmth of his touch linger on your skin. the toy was soft and absurdly large, its beady eyes staring up at you with an innocent expression. despite the cheerful facade, you couldn’t shake the cold, creeping sensation that the toy represented something far more ominous.

you accepted it with a smile, but your mind was racing. the stuffed toy felt like a symbol, a reminder of the precarious balance between your roles as predator and prey. you stared at the toy, its bright, plush exterior now a stark contrast to the dark reality that lurked beneath the surface. his gaze lingered on you, his eyes filled with genuine warmth. “i thought it might make you smile,” he said, his voice tender. “do you like it?”

you forced a smile, nodding as you clutched the toy a little too tightly. “it’s very thoughtful,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. the toy seemed to loom larger in your hands, a reminder of the mission that still awaited you. you had promised yourself that you would finish what you had started, but in that moment, amidst the lights and laughter of the fair, you found it increasingly difficult to reconcile your feelings.

his expression remained hopeful, his gaze never wavering. “let’s walk around a bit more,” he suggested, seemingly oblivious to the internal battle raging within you. you nodded, trying to push your worries aside and focus on the present. as you continued to wander through the fair, the toy felt like a weight around your neck, a reminder of the danger and deception that hovered just beneath the surface of your seemingly normal day. the fair was a fleeting escape, a chance to revel in the illusion of normalcy, but the shadows of your true mission loomed ever closer, threatening to shatter the fragile peace you had managed to cultivate.

the two of you eventually found a bench situated beneath a canopy of fairy lights, their gentle glow casting a warm aura over the space. the bench offered a moment of respite from the sensory overload of the fair, and you both settled down, the lively sounds of the carnival muted by the small oasis of tranquility.

as you sat side by side, you watched the children running around with boundless energy, their laughter mingling with the distant music of the fair. the sight brought a soft smile to your lips, a fleeting sense of nostalgia for something you had longed for but never quite had. “i’ve always wanted to be a mother,” you admitted, your voice almost wistful as you watched the joyous chaos before you. “seeing these kids, it just makes me realize how much i’ve dreamed about it.”

namjoon turned his gaze from the playful scene to you, his eyes reflecting a genuine warmth. “i can’t imagine you not being a wonderful mother,” he said softly, his voice laced with sincerity. “you have such a kind heart. i’m sure you’d be amazing at it.”

the compliment warmed you more than you expected, and you glanced at him with a tender smile. “thank you. that means a lot coming from you. what about you? have you ever thought about being a father?” namjoon’s eyes darkened slightly, a shadow of something deeper flickering across his features. he took a deep breath before responding. “yeah, i’ve thought about it. i always wanted to be a dad someday. i just don’t want to follow in my father’s footsteps.”

you could sense the weight of his words, the way they tugged at his heart. “you’re nothing like him,” you assured him, your voice firm yet gentle. “i’ve seen how you are with people, how you handle things. you’re kind, thoughtful. you’re not defined by your father’s mistakes.”

a pang of vulnerability flashed across his face, and for a moment, he looked lost in thought. he managed a small, grateful smile, though it was tinged with sadness. “it’s hard not to feel like i’m stuck in his shadow sometimes,” he admitted. “but hearing you say that—it helps.” the sincerity in his eyes made your heart ache, and you reached out, placing a hand gently on his arm. “you’re creating your own path, namjoon. you have your own values and your own way of being. don’t let his past define your future.”

his smile widened slightly, a mix of relief and gratitude washing over him. “thank you. i guess i needed to hear that.” you both sat there for a moment, the carnival’s vibrant activity humming softly in the background. the connection between you felt genuine and poignant, the weight of your respective burdens momentarily lifted by shared understanding.

as the evening drew on and the lights of the fair glimmered around you, the conversation deepened, weaving a tapestry of hope and reflection amidst the backdrop of the carnival. the simple joys of the fair seemed to highlight the more profound truths you both were navigating, bringing a sense of clarity and closeness that neither of you had anticipated.

the evening had passed in a tranquil haze, and as you finally arrived home, the comforting stillness of your home seemed to envelop you. the echoes of laughter and joy from the fair faded behind you, leaving only the soft hum of your own thoughts.

you were in the midst of unwinding, removing your shoes and loosening your coat, when the sharp ring of your phone broke the serene quiet. the caller id displayed your boss's name, and a knot of anxiety tightened in your stomach. you answered, the line crackling with the unmistakable edge of frustration. “where have you been?” her voice cut through the air like a blade, its harshness bringing you back to the present with a jolt. “you were supposed to be focused. the mission isn't over. it’s crucial that you finish it.”

you took a deep breath, steadying yourself against the surge of guilt and urgency her words stirred. “i understand. i was preoccupied, but i’ll get back on track immediately.” the silence on the other end was brief but heavy, her displeasure palpable. “you have a job to do. this is not a game. you’re dealing with someone who’s as dangerous as they come. i need results, not distractions.”

with a firm sigh, you replied, “i’ll get it done. i promise.” the call ended abruptly, leaving you with a lingering sense of urgency. your gaze drifted to the drawer where you had carefully stored your weapon. with a mixture of resolve and trepidation, you walked over and pulled it open. your fingers closed around the cold, metal grip of the pistol, its weight a stark reminder of the gravity of your task.

you took a moment to steady your breathing, the echoes of the evening’s warmth fading into the background. the contrast between the peaceful day and the chilling reality of your mission was stark. As you clicked the safety off and checked the chamber, a steely determination took hold. tonight, you promised yourself, the job would be done. the warmth of your recent encounters would be set aside, replaced by the icy focus necessary to carry out your orders. the boundaries between personal and professional were blurred, but you had to navigate the dangerous dance with precision.

the night air was crisp and sharp as you approached his house, the weight of the pistol heavy in your hand. each step felt deliberate, every breath a careful measure against the storm of emotions swirling inside you. the street was quiet, shadows playing tricks in the moonlight as you neared the front door, which stood ajar. your heart raced as a chill of apprehension ran down your spine.

you hesitated, the open door a harbinger of foreboding. had he anticipated your arrival, or was something else afoot? the usual calm of his home felt eerie in its silence. you stepped inside, the creak of the floorboards loud in the stillness. you moved with practiced stealth, checking each room with growing trepidation. the soft murmurs you heard drew you upstairs, the sounds of struggle and muffled voices leading you to his bedroom.

the door was slightly open, and you pushed it gently, your pulse quickening. the sight that greeted you was one you hadn’t anticipated. the room was a disarray of empty beer cans, a stark contrast to the polished image you had seen earlier. namjoon was pinned against the wall, his roommate's hands wrapped around his throat in a desperate, violent struggle. the scene was raw, the tension palpable.

for a moment, you were frozen, shock and horror warring within you. but the urgency of the situation jolted you into action. with a swift, practiced movement, you pulled the pistol from your holster. the shot rang out, a sharp crack that cut through the chaos. the roommate crumpled to the floor, his body going limp as a bullet found its mark in his head. namjoon fell to his knees, gasping for breath, tears streaking down his face.

you rushed to his side, dropping to your knees beside him. “namjoon, are you okay? What happened?” your voice trembled with a mixture of fear and concern as you pulled him into your arms. hee clung to you, his sobs muffled against your shoulder. “he was an assassin,” he gasped between ragged breaths. “a part of a rival group. he came after me—and i couldn’t stop him.” his voice broke, the weight of his words pressing down heavily.

you looked around the room, the sea of empty beer cans now a grim symbol of his internal struggle. “what’s with all the beer cans?” you asked, trying to piece together the fragments of the night’s horror. namjoon swallowed hard, his voice strained. “he drank—a lot. the alcohol, it brought up old memories. bad ones,” he hesitated, a pained expression crossing his face. “i killed my own father, you know. it was me who took his life. the alcohol made him violent, it twisted his mind. i couldn’t stop it.”

the revelation hit you like a sledgehammer, leaving you reeling. the man you had come to care for was entangled in a web of violence and guilt. you tried to offer comfort, your own shock mingling with the empathy you felt for him.

“did you know about me? about who i am?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. you nodded slowly, unable to meet his gaze. “i did.”

he seemed to digest this, a troubled look crossing his face. “and i knew about you too. i left the gun under the pillow, to see if you would use it. when you didn’t, i knew you wouldn’t kill me.” the admission struck you hard. his confession left you feeling as though the ground had been pulled from beneath your feet. the intricate dance of deceit and truth that had bound you both seemed to unravel in an instant. your heart pounded painfully in your chest as you grappled with the realization.

despite the turmoil inside you, holding him in your arms, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, felt strangely precious. the notion of completing your mission seemed to fade in the face of his vulnerability. you tried to fight it, but the connection you felt was undeniable. his presence, despite everything, seemed more valuable than the task at hand.

as you held him close, the night’s darkness seemed to swirl around you, a reminder of the tangled, violent path that had brought you together. in the midst of the chaos, one thing was clear: the boundaries between duty and desire had blurred, leaving you both grappling with the consequences of a night that had irrevocably changed everything.

you held him close, the weight of the night crashing down on you as you tried to steady your racing heart. his tears mingled with yours as the gravity of your shared truths settled around you. his face was flushed, eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and sorrow as he clung to you.

in a moment of aching tenderness, you cupped his face gently, your fingers trembling. you leaned in, pressing a soft, bittersweet kiss to his lips. the kiss was delicate, a fleeting touch that conveyed a world of regret and unspoken emotions. the taste of his lips lingered, a painful reminder of everything that had led to this moment.

tears streamed down your cheeks, the sorrow overwhelming. you pulled back, the anguish in your eyes mirrored in his own. “i’m so sorry, namjoon,” you whispered through your sobs. “i’m so sorry.”

his confusion deepened, the words you spoke only adding to the turmoil. as you stood up, a fresh resolve hardened in your chest. with shaking hands, you pulled the gun from your side, the cold metal a stark contrast to the warmth of your tears. you raised it slowly, pressing the barrel to his forehead. his eyes widened in shock, his breath hitching as he stared up at you.

but you couldn’t bear to look at him anymore. you turned away, the enormity of your actions crashing over you like a relentless wave. your fingers tightened around the trigger, the weight of your decision feeling unbearable. the muffled sound of the gunshot echoed in the small room, reverberating through your very soul. the finality of it struck you hard, and you stumbled backward, feeling as though your heart was being wrenched from your chest.

standing amidst the wreckage of your emotions, you fumbled for your phone. with a final, heavy sigh, you dialed your boss's number, each ring a jarring reminder of the mission that had led to this. the call connected, and your voice was shaky but resolute.

“it’s done,” you said quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “the job’s finished.”

✧.*

a/n: this hurt to write omg if yall want a happy ending lmk bc...

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

this is part one, part two can be found here

✧.*

life had unraveled like the frayed edges of a delicate drapery. each thread that once held your world together seemed to have slipped through your fingers, leaving you grasping at memories that no longer felt like your own. the air had grown heavier, thick with a silence that pressed against your chest, making it hard to breathe. colors that once brightened your days had faded to muted shades, as if the world itself had lost its vibrancy, reflecting the numbness that settled deep within you.

time moved differently, stretching endlessly in moments that felt like they would never end, yet slipping away in a haze when you tried to grasp it. nights bled into days, marked only by the quiet echoes of thoughts you couldn’t quite escape, thoughts that circled in your mind like a storm you couldn’t find shelter from. you were adrift, untethered, as if the solid ground you once stood on had crumbled beneath your feet, leaving you suspended in a void where nothing made sense.

even the simple things, the ones you had taken for granted, felt foreign and out of reach. laughter sounded distant, like a memory of a dream you weren’t sure you ever had. the warmth of sunlight on your skin felt like a distant echo of a comfort you could no longer feel. you had become a stranger in your own life, watching from a distance as it fell apart, powerless to stop the pieces from scattering.

you sat on the docks, your feet dangling over the edge, barely touching the cold, dark water below. the wooden planks were weathered and rough beneath you, each one holding the memory of countless others who had sat here before, lost in their own thoughts. the day was heavy with the scent of salt and seaweed, the gentle lapping of the waves the only sound breaking the silence. above, the sky was a vast expanse of blue, dotted with stars that seemed too far away to matter.

in your hand was a bottle of soju, the cool glass damp from the night air. you had been nursing it for a while, taking slow, deliberate sips, letting the burn settle in your chest before swallowing it down like a bitter truth. each sip felt like a small rebellion against the ache that had taken residence in your heart, but it did little to numb the pain.

the events of the past few days replayed in your mind, each one sharper than the last. you had trusted him, loved him with a fierceness that scared you at times. but he had left you, not just abandoned, but burdened with the weight of his debt—debts you hadn’t even known existed until the collectors came knocking. and as if that betrayal wasn’t enough, he had left you for your best friend. confronting her had been like walking into a nightmare. the hurt in her eyes when you accused her, the way she had looked at you with pity, not guilt. you had expected an apology, a confession that she had made a mistake, but instead, she had stood by him, unwavering. his mother’s arrival had only made things worse, her voice shrill and unforgiving as she berated you, her book club friends nodding along, their eyes filled with judgment. you hadn’t meant to cause a scene, but their anger, their righteousness, had pushed you out, sent you running until you found yourself here, alone.

you took another long drink from the bottle, the alcohol warming your throat as it went down, but leaving a cold emptiness in its wake. the docks had always been your refuge, a place where you could escape the noise of the world, but tonight, even the quiet seemed to mock you. you stared out at the horizon, the lights of the distant city blinking like tiny, indifferent stars, and you wondered how everything had gone so wrong.

a rustle caught your attention, and you glanced to your side. across from you, not too far away, sat a homeless man, his clothes tattered and worn, his face weathered by years of hardship. his eyes, however, were sharp, and they were fixed on the bottle in your hand. he didn’t say anything, just watched you with a mix of curiosity and hunger, and you could see the desire for a drink etched in the lines of his face. you sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of everything that had happened, and without a word, you extended the bottle towards him. he hesitated for a moment, then shuffled closer, his movements slow and deliberate. he took the bottle from your hand with a nod of thanks, but still, neither of you spoke.

the silence stretched between you, thick and impenetrable, as he took a swig from the bottle. you watched him, noting the way his hands trembled slightly as he drank, the way his eyes closed for a brief moment as the alcohol slid down his throat. he settled beside you, the two of you sitting in a shared, unspoken understanding of the night’s loneliness.

“do you ever wish you could sleep for the next hundred years?” you asked suddenly, your voice barely louder than a whisper. the words had slipped out before you could stop them, a quiet admission of the exhaustion that had seeped into your bones. you didn’t expect an answer, and the man didn’t offer one. he continued to stare out at the water, the bottle now resting in his lap, his silence a mirror to your own thoughts.

but you couldn’t stop. the words kept spilling out, each one tugged from the depths of your sorrow. “life is awful,” you continued, your voice cracking with the weight of the truth. “every time i think it’s getting better, it just gets worse. it’s like some cruel joke, this constant cycle of hope and disappointment.” the man didn’t move, didn’t even look at you. his silence was deafening, yet somehow comforting in its neutrality. he wasn’t there to judge or console, just to listen—or maybe, not even that. perhaps he was just a presence, a reminder that you weren’t entirely alone, even if it felt like it.

your voice faltered, and you felt the first sting of tears burning at the corners of your eyes. you tried to hold them back, to swallow the sobs that were building in your chest, but it was useless. the dam broke, and you buried your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking with the force of your cries. the tears were hot against your skin, your sobs muffled as you tucked your head between your knees, trying to make yourself as small as possible, to disappear into the night.

for a long while, the only sound was your crying, the grief pouring out of you in waves. the man remained silent, his gaze now fixed somewhere in the distance, as if he was watching a world that neither of you could see. you didn’t expect him to comfort you, didn’t even want him to. all you needed was to release the pain that had been choking you since everything had fallen apart.

when your tears had subsided into soft, hiccupping breaths, the man shifted beside you. he sighed, a deep, resigned sound, and for the first time, he spoke. his voice was rough, like gravel being dragged across pavement, but there was a quiet wisdom in it, a hard-earned understanding of the world. “life won’t get better just because you want it to,” he said, his words hanging in the cold air between you. he didn’t offer any more than that, no advice or platitudes, just the blunt truth that he had learned over years of hardship.

he stood up slowly, the bottle now empty in his hand, and he moved a few feet away, curling up on the wooden planks with his back to you. you watched as he settled down, pulling a tattered blanket around himself, his body already relaxing into sleep. the conversation was over, and you were left alone again, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a heavy blanket. you stared at the empty spot beside you, where the bottle had rested just moments before, and felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness. life wouldn’t get better just because you wanted it to, but you hadn’t given up wanting, not yet.

you stood on the edge of the docks, the wooden planks beneath your feet creaking softly as you stared out at the water. the sun hung low in the sky, its golden light casting long, warm reflections on the rippling surface of the bay. the distant murmur of the city seemed to fade as your gaze followed the gentle dance of the waves, their rhythmic motion both calming and hypnotic. it was then you heard it—a sudden splash that jolted you from your reverie.

you turned swiftly, eyes scanning the dock for the source of the disturbance. panic gripped you as you spotted a small figure struggling in the water. a little boy, no older than six, flailed desperately, his tiny arms reaching out as he bobbed helplessly. his parents, oblivious to the danger, chatted animatedly on the dock, their laughter ringing hollow in the midst of the growing crisis.

your heart raced, and you glanced over at the homeless man who usually occupied a corner of the docks. he lay slumped against a crate, fast asleep, his tattered coat pulled tightly around him. desperation surged through you as you realized the responsibility of the moment fell squarely on your shoulders. you cursed under your breath, frustration and fear mingling as you pushed yourself into action.

without a second thought, you sprinted toward the edge of the dock. the world seemed to blur around you as you dove into the cold, dark water. the shock of the chill hit you hard, and for a split second, you were enveloped in a freezing embrace. the surface above you shimmered faintly, growing dimmer as you plunged deeper. your limbs cut through the water with urgency, each stroke bringing you closer to the struggling boy.

when you finally reached him, his face was etched with sheer terror, his eyes wide and glassy. you grabbed him firmly, wrapping your arms around his small, shivering body. he clung to you with a vice-like grip, his sobs muffled by the water. you kicked with all your might, pushing upwards, determined to get him to safety. as you breached the surface, the dimming light of the sun cast eerie shadows across the water. you could see the boy’s father now, his face a mask of fear and urgency as he maneuvered a small raft toward you. with a final burst of energy, you managed to get the boy onto the raft. the father, his face etched with gratitude, reached out a hand towards you.

you were about to grasp it when you noticed something strange. the sun, which had been steadily sinking, was now obscured by an enormous, dark shadow. your gaze followed the shadow up, and your breath caught in your throat. the sun was being eclipsed, a celestial body slipping between you and its light. the sky darkened abruptly, the shadow growing ever larger, swallowing the golden hue with an ominous, encroaching blackness.

panic gripped you anew as the raft’s father shouted at you to take his hand. but before you could respond, a strange, powerful force seemed to pull at you from below. the water beneath you churned violently, dragging you down with an insistent, merciless strength. the familiar warmth of the sun’s rays was now a distant memory, replaced by the encroaching darkness. you struggled against the pull, but the force was overwhelming. as you descended, the water around you grew darker and colder. You glanced up one last time, the surface above you now a faint, distant blur. the sun was gone, and the moon seemed to press down on you with an oppressive, unyielding presence.

in the depths of the water, you began to see fleeting, fragmented visions—glimpses of your best friend, their face full of concern; your boyfriend, looking at you with eyes filled with love and worry. these images flickered like memories on the brink of dissolution, fading in and out as you sank deeper and deeper. the darkness enveloped you, the water now a viscous black void. you reached out, but there was nothing to grasp, nothing to hold onto. the last remnants of light slipped away, and with a final, desperate gasp, everything went black.

the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the bustling streets of the goryeo dynasty's capital. a palpable excitement filled the air as the crowd gathered, their murmurs rising to a crescendo as they awaited the arrival of the imperial procession. the cobblestone streets seemed to vibrate with anticipation as the riders galloped in, their horses' hooves striking the ground in rhythmic beats. the crowd parted respectfully, creating a clear path for the approaching figures.

the lead rider, whose face was partially obscured by an ornate mask, exuded an aura of authority. despite the mask, his commanding presence was unmistakable. as he drew closer, the mask was subtly lifted, revealing the sharp features of kim namjoon, the fourth imperial prince of goryeo. his eyes, sharp and discerning, surveyed the crowd with a mix of regality and practiced indifference.

at the palace, the scene was one of a different nature entirely. the atmosphere within the grand palace complex was a blend of opulence and casual domesticity. In the palace's expansive hot springs, a more relaxed environment prevailed. the tenth prince, baekhyun, splashed gleefully in the steaming waters, his laughter echoing off the stone walls. his actions were a far cry from the formalities of court life, displaying a childlike exuberance that was both endearing and mischievous.

beside him, the fourteenth prince, kang daniel, remained close, his presence a constant in baekhyun’s playful antics. daniel’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he engaged in the water games, showing a loyalty and camaraderie that was evident in their every interaction. the water playfully splashed around them, creating a lively contrast to the otherwise serene setting. the third prince, kang chaehee, observed from a slightly elevated edge of the hot springs, a sly scowl playing on his lips. his eyes followed the two princes with an air of calculated disbelief, as though he were silently plotting his next move or simply reveling in their stupidity.

the thirteenth prince, kang younghyun, joined the others with a warm smile, his entrance into the water adding a new layer of mirth to the scene. younghyun’s demeanor was that of a congenial companion, blending effortlessly into the group as he splashed and laughed with baekhyun and daniel.

the eighth prince, kang chwe hansol, watched the scene unfold with a calm and thoughtful expression. his gaze, serene and contemplative, contrasted with the playful energy of the younger princes. hansol’s mind was occupied with matters of the palace and the well-being of its occupants, a duty that seemed to weigh heavily on him. the ninth prince, kang yeosang, also observed from a distance, his face a mask of indifference. his role in the royal family was less pronounced, but his presence was a constant backdrop to the more dominant personalities of his brothers.

as the evening wore on, hansol noted the conspicuous absence of the fourth prince. his brow furrowed slightly in concern. “if namjoon is any later,” he said thoughtfully, “he’ll miss the ritual ceremony.” the ritual itself played a vital role in the dynasty as a whole, a tradition that had gone on for what could have been centuries. its purpose was not only to bring the princes together, but to rid them and the palace of spirits and hexes.

baekhyun, still immersed in the water, nudged daniel playfully. “i heard,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eye, “that namjoon’s been killing people like a wolf. maybe we’ll be next.” he let out a playful howl, imitating a wolf with exaggerated movements. chaehee’s eyes narrowed, and he chided sang with a tone of authority. “quiet, baekhyun. this is all but the time for such nonsense.”

just as baekhyun began to submerge himself deeper into the water, a sudden figure emerged behind him. you gasped for air, your heart pounding as you struggled to catch your breath. the shock of the cold water and the realization of being in such a strange and precarious situation overwhelmed you. your mind raced, trying to make sense of your surroundings.

baekhyun turned around abruptly, his eyes widening in disbelief as he stared at you. “there’s a girl in the water!” he called out in shock, his voice carrying across the hot springs.

the princes froze, their expressions shifting from surprise to confusion as they took in the unexpected sight. before you could fully process the situation, a voice to your left beckoned you. you turned to see a slave girl standing at the edge of the hot springs in the bushes, her eyes darting nervously between you and the assembled princes. she gestured urgently for you to come over and whispered a name that you struggled to understand—“come on, my lady nabi.”

you had no clear idea of what she was saying, but the urgency in her voice compelled you to follow. you moved toward her, the water clinging to you as you emerged from the hot springs, your movements slow and hesitant. the princes watched in stunned silence, their gazes fixed on you. hansol’s eyes widened slightly as he processed the situation. “na…bi?” he murmured softly, his voice barely audible over the rippling water. the name hung in the air, its significance unclear but laden with an unsettling sense of foreboding.

the slave girl, chayeon, moved swiftly and decisively, her demeanor a stark contrast to the chaotic scene unfolding around you. her clothes, though simple and practical, were impeccably clean, and her face wore an expression of stern disapproval. she guided you away from the hot springs, her hands gripping your arm with a firmness that left no room for argument.

“lady nabi, what are you doing here?” she scolded, her voice a sharp whisper that cut through the murmurs of the princes. “you mustn’t be here. how did you end up in the water? this is no place for you!” her words came rapid-fire, her frustration palpable. her eyes scanned you, as if seeking to understand how you had arrived in such a predicament.

as she ushered you away, her scolding continued, though her voice softened slightly. “are you feeling alright now? are you hurt?” her concern, though genuine, was laced with an undercurrent of irritation. the whirlwind of her reprimand left you bewildered, struggling to make sense of your surroundings.

you were still disoriented from the cold shock of the water and the suddenness of the situation. you wondered why chayeon kept addressing you as “lady,” and why you had been dragged into this unfamiliar place. your confusion deepened as you took in the scene before you.

the outdoor pools, set amidst the grand palace grounds, were filled with people clad in elaborate period clothing. their garments were rich with color and intricate designs, the fabrics shimmering in the soft light of the setting sun. the setting was almost idyllic, with the gentle sounds of the water mingling with the low hum of conversation. it struck you with a sense of surrealism—the opulence and the formality of the setting contrasted sharply with the disarray of your predicament.

a growing realization began to dawn on you. the period clothing, the palace surroundings, the way chayeon addressed you—it all seemed to indicate that you had somehow crossed into another realm, a place that bore the hallmarks of the hereafter. the thought was disorienting and unsettling. overwhelmed and unable to process the strange new reality, your vision began to blur. the world around you grew dim, and with a final, desperate gasp, you fainted, collapsing into the comforting embrace of darkness.

the fourth prince made his entrance at the palace gates. his arrival was marked by an imposing presence, the grandeur of his attire and the regal bearing of his posture commanding attention. as he rode through the gates, his lead attendant followed closely, speaking with a tone that was both respectful and cautious.

“your highness,” the attendant said, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “remember to uphold the honor of your adopted family name before the king. after your audience, you will need to return to shinju.” namjoon’s face twisted into a sneer at the mention of his adopted status. his tone was laced with sarcasm as he replied, “ah, yes. i had forgotten that i’m not just an adopted son but a hostage in this palace.”

his demeanor hardened as he rode further into the palace grounds. the vast courtyard stretched out before him, the silence heavy with the weight of his impending actions. he dismounted with a grace that belied the storm brewing within him. his hand moved to his sword, and in a swift, decisive motion, he drew it from its sheath.

the courtyard was filled with startled gasps as namjoon took a swing and, to everyone’s horror, struck his horse. the animal reared up, a cry of pain escaping its throat before collapsing to the ground, lifeless. the suddenness of the act stunned everyone into silence. the scene was one of utter shock, with onlookers frozen in place, their eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and fear.

a soldier stepped forward, his voice trembling as he stuttered, “your highness, you’re not allowed to carry a sword inside the palace.” he extended his hand, a gesture that seemed both hesitant and necessary. namjoon’s expression remained unchanged, his eyes cold and unyielding. without a word, he handed over the sword, the metal gleaming ominously as it was taken from him. the soldier, still visibly shaken, added, “i will prepare a horse for your departure.”

namjoon’s response was delivered with an unyielding finality. “i won’t be going back,” he declared, his voice echoing with a resolve that left no room for further discussion. he wasn’t going back, he wasn’t going to allow himself to return to shinju as a hostage.

the world around you began to coalesce into something more tangible as you slowly regained consciousness. the first thing you noticed was the softness of the bed beneath you. it was an opulent four-poster, draped in rich, dark fabrics that exuded an air of both comfort and grandeur. the room was lit by the soft glow of an oil lamp, and the furnishings, though elegant, felt strangely foreign.

you groaned softly, your head throbbing with an intensity that made it difficult to focus. the pain was sharp and persistent, a constant reminder of the disorienting turn your life had taken. as you attempted to sit up, a woman in traditional attire entered the room, her presence graceful and composed. she had an air of authority about her, and she approached with a concerned expression.

“nabi,” she said, her voice gentle yet firm. the name felt like an intrusion into your fragile state of awareness, and you looked up at her with a mixture of confusion and frustration.

“what do you mean, nabi?” you asked, your voice strained. “i’m (y/n) (l/n).” the declaration felt weak even as you spoke it, and you noticed the woman’s eyes widening in surprise. the woman’s face reflected a mix of shock and disbelief. “you’re not nabi?” she repeated, her tone tinged with uncertainty. her gaze darted between you and the door, as though she were expecting someone else to appear.

realization dawned on you, and a sudden, albeit delirious, laugh escaped your lips. “oh right, i died. i must be dead,” you said with a half-hearted chuckle. the absurdity of the situation hit you again, and your mind raced to piece together the fragments of your memories.

chayeon stepped into the room, her expression a mix of relief and exasperation. “no, you didn’t die,” she clarified. “you had a near miss, and we brought you here for safety.” her words did little to alleviate your confusion, and you blurted out, “i didn’t die?” your sense of reality felt tenuous, and your panic surged.

you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stumbled toward the door, the pounding in your head growing louder with every step. the sight that greeted you outside was both breathtaking and bewildering. you found yourself in a spacious courtyard, surrounded by traditional architecture that spoke of a bygone era. the buildings were constructed with ornate wooden beams, their roofs sweeping gracefully upward in elegant curves. the lush greenery and tranquil garden added to the sense of otherworldly calm.

the unfamiliarity of the scene only heightened your alarm. “where am I?” you wondered aloud, your voice trembling with a mix of anxiety and confusion. you turned back to lady ja, who had followed you out of the room, and pleaded for clarification.

her gaze softened with a mixture of pity and patience. “you are at the residence of the eighth prince, wang chwe hansol, in songak,” she explained. the name rang a distant bell in your memory, but the pieces were still not fitting together. as the words sank in, a realization began to form in your mind. “songak?” you repeated, the name resonating with a sense of historical significance. “is this goryeo?” the question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of historical context.

lady ja nodded, her expression confirming your growing suspicion. “yes,” she said, “the current king is taejo wang geon, the founder of goryeo.” her words struck a chord with you, and the implications of what she was saying began to crystallize.

the recognition hit you like a wave. songak was indeed the old capital city of goryeo. you were not just in a different place but in a different time altogether. the realization was both thrilling and terrifying. you had somehow been transported into the past, into the very era of taejo wang geon’s reign. the weight of the revelation was almost too much to bear. your surroundings, the people, the architecture—all of it was a vivid testament to a historical period you had only known through books and tales. you stood there, trying to come to terms with the fact that you had somehow come into someone else’s body, into a world that was both rich in history and utterly foreign to you.

lady ja’s voice broke through your thoughts. “think hard about where you are,” she urged gently. “this is the residence of prince haneul, and we must ensure that you are properly cared for.” you nodded numbly, your mind still grappling with the enormity of your situation. as you took in the sights of the palace, the historical context of your predicament began to settle into place. the world around you was not merely a fantastical dream but a reality rooted in a time long past.

the throne room of the goryeo palace was a place of imposing grandeur and intricate design. richly adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of historical triumphs, the walls of the room gleamed with polished wood and gold accents. the vast chamber was dominated by the throne itself, a majestic seat of authority, intricately carved and elevated on a dais.

king taejo wang geon presided over the court with a gravity befitting his esteemed position. his regal presence commanded attention, his robes a cascade of deep, rich colors that spoke of both power and tradition. at his side were the six princes, each seated in a manner that reflected their rank and status. however, the fourth prince, namjoon, was notably absent from this gathering, his absence a conspicuous gap in the otherwise well-ordered assembly.

the tension in the room was palpable as an official presented a dead bird, its lifeless form displayed for all to see. the bird had fallen dead after a single bite from the crown prince’s breakfast, an unsettling testament to possible tampering. the sight of the dead creature stirred murmurs of concern among those in attendance.

king taejo's gaze was sharp and unwavering as he addressed the issue. “find the culprit responsible for this heinous act,” he commanded, his voice echoing with the weight of authority. the room fell into a hushed silence as the gravity of the situation sank in.

amidst the tension, jackson wang, a cousin of the king, stepped forward with a calculated expression. his tone was smooth yet insistent. “your majesty,” he began, “i must speak. there are growing concerns about the crown prince, wang taehyung. rumors suggest that he suffers from an incurable disease, and some believe he is unfit to assume the throne.” the words hung in the air, charged with implications. his proposal was audacious, but not without precedent in the power struggles of the royal court. he entreatied taejo to consider dethroning wang taehyung and replacing him with another prince. the notion of replacing the crown prince was met with a mix of surprise and unease from those present.

outside the throne room, crown prince taehyung himself arrived just in time to overhear jackson’s suggestion. his expression was one of barely contained frustration and hurt, his position at the heart of the debate adding to his evident distress. he hesitated at the door, his mind racing as he tried to piece together the gravity of the situation. inside the throne room, king taejo turned his attention to the remaining princes, his gaze probing and expectant. “do any of you agree with wang jackson’s proposal?” he asked, his voice laced with the tension of the moment. “is there anyone among you who would like to see the crown prince replaced?”

the princes exchanged glances, their reactions a mix of anxiety and discomfort. some avoided eye contact, while others looked visibly taken aback by the king’s question. the atmosphere was thick with uncertainty as they weighed their options, each one acutely aware of the delicate nature of the discussion.

the eighth prince was the first to break the silence. with a calm yet resolute demeanor, hansol moved forward and knelt before the king. “your majesty,” he said earnestly, “i beseech you to reconsider these words. there is no one among us who wishes to replace crown prince tae. we are united in our belief that he is the rightful heir.” his plea was followed swiftly by the thirteenth prince, who also approached the throne and knelt. “i too implore you, your majesty, to retract this proposal. crown prince taehyung is our leader, and we support him wholeheartedly.”

third prince chaehee was next to kneel, his actions reflecting the collective sentiment of the princes. his expression was guarded, but his voice carried a sense of urgency as he added his support to the plea. the younger princes, recognizing the shift in the room, followed suit. they too knelt, their voices merging in a unified plea for the king to reconsider. “please, your majesty,” they said in chorus, “do not dismiss crown prince taehyung. he is deserving of his position.”

in the midst of this fervent display of loyalty, king taejo called forth his esteemed astrologer and fortune-reader, choi jisoo. the elderly man, dressed in robes adorned with celestial patterns, approached the throne with a measured step. he began his explanation with a reverent tone, his words flowing with the weight of ancient knowledge. “the stars,” he began, “do not indicate that the crown prince is unfit. instead, they reveal a future filled with promise and stability. the alignment of the stars suggests that crown prince tae is destined to lead with wisdom and strength.”

the king listened intently as he continued to elaborate on the celestial omens, his confidence in the prince’s future unwavering. the explanations of the stars, combined with the united front of the princes, seemed to sway the king’s judgment.

king taejo’s expression softened as he addressed the court. “i have heard your pleas,” he declared. “i reaffirm that crown prince taehyung will take the leading position in the upcoming rites. his position is secure, and he shall fulfill his duties as our future sovereign.” the room erupted into a murmur of relief and approval, but not all were pleased with the outcome. hyun’s expression darkened, a subtle shift in his demeanor betraying his displeasure. his eyes, though fleetingly narrowed, reflected a deep-seated discontent, suggesting that the issue was far from resolved.

in the lavishly adorned quarters of queen jiyoung, the air was filled with an opulent serenity. the queen's residence was a realm of understated luxury, with delicate silks draped over intricately carved wooden screens and the gentle flicker of oil lamps casting soft shadows across the richly decorated walls. the fragrance of jasmine and sandalwood mingled, creating an atmosphere of calm and refinement.

jiyoung, seated gracefully at a low, ornate table, was engaged in conversation with chaehee, her expression one of composed interest. her attire, resplendent in hues of deep purple and gold, emphasized her status and authority. the intricate embroidery on her gown depicted scenes of serene landscapes and mythical creatures, adding to her regal bearing.

“i must admit, chaehee,” she said, her voice smooth yet laced with an edge of surprise, “i didn't expect crown prince taehyung to emerge from this latest crisis unscathed. i had anticipated that his position would be in jeopardy, particularly with the evidence presented against him.”

chaehee, standing by her side with an air of practiced deference, offered a sympathetic smile. “your majesty, it seems the king has decided to keep the crown prince in his position for now. the princes’ pleas and the astrologer’s predictions seem to have swayed him.” her gaze hardened slightly, her fingers drumming lightly on the surface of the table.

a court lady approached with a respectful bow, interrupting their conversation. “your majesty,” she began, her voice tentative, “there is a visitor outside requesting an audience. he has been waiting for some time.” jiyoung’s expression shifted to one of irritation. “a visitor? at this hour? who could it be?” her tone was sharp, revealing her displeasure at the interruption.

the court lady hesitated before responding. “it is your son, prince namjoon, your majesty. he has been waiting outside for your presence.”

jiyoung’s irritation grew palpable. her sons were often seen as pawns in the grand scheme of palace politics, and the timing of this interruption seemed particularly inconvenient. “prince namjoon?” she repeated, her voice tinged with frustration. “i have no time for such distractions right now. tell him to leave. i am not to be disturbed.” the court lady bowed deeply, her face a mask of regret as she turned to deliver the message. “yes, your majesty,” she said, her voice carrying the weight of her duty.

the night descended upon songak with a veil of darkness, its silence broken only by the occasional rustle of the wind against the palace walls. within the confines of your room, the atmosphere was heavy with a sense of desolation and uncertainty. You had locked yourself away, seeking refuge in the solitude of the opulent space, but it offered little solace.

the room was adorned with luxurious fabrics and furnishings, yet the grandeur did little to dispel the turmoil within you. you huddled on the edge of the bed, wrapped in the silken covers but feeling cold and detached. your mind replayed the events of the day with haunting clarity. the dead bird, the tense courtroom, and the disturbing reality of your situation all blended into a nightmarish haze.

as you shivered beneath the covers, you grappled with the reality of your existence. “did i die in the water that day?” you wondered aloud, your voice trembling in the quiet room. the thought that your host body, nabi, might have met the same fate only compounded your anxiety. the idea that you had somehow taken on nabi’s life in this strange, historical world was both disorienting and terrifying.

“am i (y/n) (l/n), or nabi?” you questioned, your voice barely more than a whisper. the realization that you were living someone else’s life was an unsettling one. yet, amidst the confusion, you decided to view this as a stroke of fortune—a new chance at life, albeit in a form you had not anticipated. if you were to continue as nabi, you resolved to make the most of the unexpected opportunity.

the enormity of your predicament loomed over you. despite your determination, you were acutely aware of how little you knew about goryeo. the intricacies of the court, the historical context, and even the line of succession were mysteries to you. you weren’t even sure which king followed taejo. your attempt to guess was a shot in the dark, and you feared it might be embarrassingly wrong. as you sat brooding, the soft murmur of voices reached your ears from outside the door. prince hansol had returned home, and you could hear him speaking with his wife, lady ja. their conversation was laden with concern.

“she was in the water for two hours before resurfacing,” lady ja was saying, her tone filled with worry. “she was like a corpse. we fear she might harm herself.” chayeon’s voice joined the conversation, her words carrying a hint of distress. “she lost her memory. we don’t know what to do.”

the weight of their concern seemed to seep through the walls, intensifying your sense of isolation. lady ja’s anxiety was palpable, and the thought of harming yourself felt like a grim possibility. the fear that you might be beyond help was overwhelming. suddenly, the door to your room was thrust open with a force that startled you. standing in the doorway was hansol, his face etched with a deep concern. his presence was commanding, yet there was a softness in his eyes that belied his authoritative stance.

“please, don’t be scared,” hansol said firmly, his voice cutting through the fog of your confusion. “i brought you here, so i will help you through to the end.”

he extended his hand toward you, his gesture a lifeline in the midst of your turmoil. he brought you there? what exactly did he mean by that? the sight of his outstretched hand seemed to pierce through the haze of your thoughts. you looked at it, feeling a mix of desperation and resolve. the prospect of remaining in this strange new world was daunting, but the notion of giving up was even more so. despite the uncertainty, a new wave of determination surged within you. the realization that you could not go back or change your appearance fueled a newfound resolve to face the challenges ahead. you took a deep breath, gathering your strength, and reached out to grasp his hand.

as your fingers closed around his, a sense of commitment and hope took root. hansol’s grip was firm and reassuring, offering a semblance of stability in the midst of your disorientation. you looked up at him, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. “i trust you,” you said, your voice steady despite the lingering tremor of uncertainty. “’i want to make sense of this life.”

namjoon’s mind drifted back through the fog of time, to a moment of clarity from his childhood. the memory was etched into his mind with a precision that made it feel as though it had happened only yesterday. he was a young boy then, barely old enough to understand the gravity of the world around him. the palace, once a place of warmth and familial affection, had turned cold and unwelcoming. the loss of the crown prince, taejo and jiyoung’s firstborn, had cast a shadow over the entire court. the death had shaken the very foundation of their lives, leaving behind a void that seemed impossible to fill.

jiyoung’s grief was intense, her sorrow a constant, gnawing presence that colored her every interaction. she had been inconsolable, a stark contrast to the determined, almost clinical demeanor of king taejo. the queen’s eyes, once so full of life, were now heavy with an unspoken anguish. her hands, which had once cradled her child with tender care, now trembled with a mix of rage and despair.

in the aftermath of the tragedy, taejo had made a decision that seemed both practical and cold-hearted. he sought to fortify the kingdom’s borders through another marriage, a strategic move intended to bolster alliances and strengthen the realm. the political implications of his choice were clear, but to the grieving queen, they were an affront to her sorrow. as the king prepared to finalize his decision, the palace was awash with tension. jiyoung, her face streaked with tears and resolve, confronted him.

her voice was a strained whisper, laden with desperation. “how can you even consider another marriage?” she demanded. “do you not feel any sadness? is our loss so easily forgotten?” taejo responded with an unsettling calmness. “my decisions are guided by the needs of the kingdom,” he said. “this marriage is necessary for the security of our borders. it’s not a matter of personal grief.”

the queen’s eyes flashed with a dangerous intensity. her hand clenched around a small, ornate dagger, a symbol of her resolve. “you will choose between your marriage and your son,” she declared, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and anguish. she seized namjoon, who stood beside her, and pressed the dagger against his young throat.

the king’s face darkened, a storm of conflicting emotions crossing his features. “this won’t stop my decision,” he warned, his voice edged with a steely resolve. “you cannot use our son as leverage.” the tension in the room reached a breaking point. rhe queen’s grip on the dagger tightened, her face a mask of defiant rage. with a sudden, violent movement, she raised her hand, intent on striking out in her desperation.

taejo acted swiftly, his hand grasping her wrist in a desperate bid to prevent the impending violence. but the queen was resolute, wrenching her arm free from his grasp. in the struggle, the dagger’s blade sliced across namjoon’s young face. the sharp edge cut through flesh, spraying blood in a sudden, horrifying arc. hansol rushed forward in a panic. his eyes widened in horror as he saw the blood seeping from namjoon’s wound, the child’s face contorted in pain and shock. the sight was etched into his memory as he reached out, his own face pale and stricken.

years later, the mask namjoon wore was a constant reminder of that night, a physical manifestation of the emotional scars he carried. the memory of that moment—the struggle, the pain, and the betrayal—was a shadow that lingered in his past, shaping his present in ways both seen and unseen. the mask, more than a protective covering, was a symbol of the emotional wounds that had never truly healed.

as dawn crept over songak, its light filtered gently through the silk curtains of your chamber, casting a soft glow across the opulent furnishings. you emerged from the cocoon of your blankets, your mind still tangled in the disarray of your new reality. chaeyeon arrived promptly to escort you around the grounds, her demeanor a blend of professionalism and sympathy. the palace grounds were a sprawling expanse of beauty and grandeur, with meticulously manicured gardens, serene water features, and stately buildings that spoke of the power and wealth of the dynasty. the scent of blooming flowers and the soft rustle of leaves in the morning breeze created an atmosphere of tranquility.

chaeyeon led you with practiced ease, her steps light and graceful. she spoke with a calm, informative tone, filling you in on the details of your life as nabi. “this is the western garden,” she said, gesturing to a lush area adorned with vibrant flora. “you used to spend a great deal of time here, enjoying the serenity. and over there,” she pointed towards a grand pavilion, “is where you and lady ja often held tea parties.”

you nodded, feigning familiarity with the surroundings. “it’s all starting to come back to me,” you said, though internally you struggled to piece together the fragmented information. the “amnesia” you claimed was a convenient cover for your ignorance, allowing you to absorb details about your new identity without raising suspicion.

chaeyeon’s eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze scrutinizing you with a hint of suspicion. “are you certain you’re not faking your condition?” she asked, her tone laced with concern. “perhaps you had a secret relationship with someone or incurred a debt that might explain your current state.”

the accusation took you aback, and you paused, considering her words. “did nabi have a secret life?” you mused aloud. “was she someone who acted one way in public and another behind closed doors?” chaeyeon’s eyes widened slightly, her suspicion momentarily replaced by concern. “nabi was always so quiet and reserved,” she said, shaking her head. “it’s hard to believe she would have done anything underhanded.”

your tendency to refer to yourself in the third person seemed to convince chaeyeon of your genuine amnesia. she softened her stance, though her gaze remained thoughtful. “if you truly don’t remember, then we’ll have to help you piece together the fragments of your past,” she said, her voice gentler now. you sighed inwardly, recognizing the futility of explaining that you were merely inhabiting someone else’s body. the truth was far too complex to convey, and the best course of action was to continue with the pretense of amnesia.

as you walked alongside her, your gaze fell upon the distant river that meandered through the palace grounds. across it, you could see prince hansol and lady ja enjoying a quiet moment together. hansol’s attention towards his wife was marked by an evident tenderness, his every gesture reflecting a deep affection. curiosity piqued, you asked chaeyeon, “what can you tell me about prince hansol?”

her face lit up with pride as she spoke of him. “prince chwe hansol is truly the finest man in all of goryeo,” she said, her voice brimming with admiration. “he is often regarded as the one who should have been the first prince. his wisdom and kindness are unmatched, and he is deeply loved by all who know him.” you absorbed her words with a mix of relief and contemplation. from your limited historical knowledge, you wondered if he was the prince who later became king gwangjong.

as you continued to observe the serene interaction between hansol and lady ja across the river, you found yourself lost in thought, the quiet affection between the couple stirring something within you. the tranquility of the moment was abruptly shattered by the sharp voice of a woman you hadn’t noticed approaching.

“how dare you stare so rudely?” she snapped, her voice cutting through the calm like a blade. you turned to face the intruder, immediately noting her keen, almost predatory eyes. “being lady ja’s cousin is no excuse for such impropriety.”

before you could respond, chaeyeon quickly bowed low and urgently nudged you to do the same. “princess seulgi,” she whispered in warning, her tone laced with anxiety. princess seulgi, you thought, sizing up the woman before you. her posture was rigid, her gaze unyielding, and her expression one of barely concealed disdain. there was an air of superiority about her, as if she expected the world to bend to her whims. despite chaeyeon’s subtle attempts to pacify the situation, hana’s eyes never left you, narrowing slightly in irritation.

with a voice sweetened by insincerity, she said, “it’s such a shame, nabi, that you seem to have forgotten your manners along with your memory. you could stand to relearn quite a few things, it seems.”

the condescension in her tone was unmistakable, and you felt your irritation bubble to the surface. internally, you grumbled at her haughty attitude, unwilling to be cowed by her status. so, with a bright, wide smile, you met her gaze and replied, “if you dislike me, princess, just say so.” for a moment, silence hung between you, thick with tension. hana’s eyes widened in shock, her sharp tongue momentarily stilled by your audacity. she had likely expected you to cower or apologize, not to confront her so directly.

you continued, your voice steady and firm, “it’s clear you’re the type to bide your time, waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in with criticism. but that doesn’t work with me.” seulgi’s shock quickly morphed into anger, her face flushing with indignation. “you insolent little—” she began, her voice rising as she spat out, “bitch!”

you raised your voice right back, ready to escalate the argument further. but just as the tension reached its peak, a commanding presence interrupted. “enough.” the single word, spoken in a calm yet authoritative tone, immediately silenced the room. you and hana both turned to see hansol approaching, his expression unreadable but his mere presence enough to quell the brewing storm.

he stepped between you and the princess, his gaze settling on you as he urged you to walk with him, toward the library. “nabi,” he began, his voice softening slightly, “it seems you’ve forgotten the proper way to greet a member of the royal family.” you felt a rush of embarrassment as the reality of the situation dawned on you. bowing hurriedly, you tried to recover, offering a modern and awkward, “hello.”

the corner of hansol’s mouth twitched slightly in what could have been amusement, though his expression remained mostly neutral. “i suppose your amnesia means you don’t remember much at all,” he mused, his tone more curious than accusatory. “including whether you’ve peeped on the princes’ bath before or after you lost your memory.” caught off guard by his question, you struggled to form a coherent response, heat rising to your cheeks. “i don’t remember,” you admitted, feeling the weight of his scrutiny.

hansol didn’t press further, his gaze thoughtful as he considered you. “what is it that you want to do with yourself now, nabi?” he asked. there was a sincerity in his tone, as if he genuinely wanted to help you find your place. “i brought you here when you first accompanied lady ja, and i intend to look after you. but i need to know what you wish for your future.” his concern surprised you. you hadn’t expected him to take such an interest, especially given that you were technically a stranger in this body. yet, there was a part of you that wondered why he would go to such lengths, even if you were related to his wife.

determined to assert some control over your situation, you squared your shoulders and said, “i’ll take care of myself, your highness.” the words came out more confidently than you felt, but you were resolved to prove that you weren’t a burden. he seemed taken aback by your response, his brows knitting together slightly in confusion. your modernisms, the casual way you spoke, must have seemed strange to him. “you’ll take care of yourself?” he repeated, as if trying to understand your meaning.

realizing your mistake, you quickly added, “what i mean is, i’ll find a way to live here and be of use. i don’t want to be a burden.” his expression softened again, though a hint of concern lingered. “very well,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “but you must understand that you’re not alone here. we all have roles to play, and we’ll help you find yours.”

as he spoke, he moved around the room, his steps measured and deliberate. you followed him, your eyes tracing the lines of the bookshelves that lined the walls. the library was grand, filled with volumes that spoke of a rich history you barely understood.

“i have many talents,” you blurted out, trying to reassure both him and yourself. “i’ll find a way to make myself useful, i promise.” you nearly ran into him as he stopped abruptly, turning to face you. his closeness made you tense, the air between you charged with a subtle, unspoken tension. he studied you intently, his gaze searching for something in your eyes.

“you seem like someone else,” he observed quietly, the weight of his words sinking deep into your consciousness. you were flustered by his remark, unsure how to respond. but before you could speak, he continued, “it doesn’t matter who you were before, nabi. what matters is how you move forward now.” his words were a comfort, a reminder that while your situation was strange and frightening, you had a chance to shape your own path.

“i won’t ask further about your memory,” he added, his tone gentle. “but you must not worry lady ja any further. she cares deeply for you, and so do i.” you nodded quickly, agreeing to his terms. “i won’t,” you promised, feeling a renewed determination to adapt to this life. with that, he dismissed you, and you ran off, your mind buzzing with everything that had transpired. as you left the library, you couldn’t shake the feeling that hansol saw through you, that he knew there was something fundamentally different about you.

as namjoon roamed the dimly lit library, his fingers traced the spines of countless books that lined the shelves. the scent of old paper and ink hung heavy in the air, a quiet reminder of the knowledge stored within these walls. the books there were far from ordinary, though—jisoo’s collection was infamous for its peculiar and often forbidden contents. namjoon’s sharp eyes quickly zeroed in on a particular shelf, one that seemed to be tucked away more carefully than the others. his lips curled into a smirk as he pulled out a slender, well-worn volume, its cover unassuming save for the faint, faded title that promised scandalous secrets within.

he flipped through the pages, his amusement growing with each explicit passage. lost in the irony, he didn’t notice jisoo’s approach until the man was practically breathing down his neck. “enjoying the collection?” his voice was light, almost teasing. his presence was like a shadow, creeping up without warning, and it made namjoon’s grip tighten on the book.

namjoon didn’t bother to hide the volume he was holding. he met jisoo’s gaze with a lazy smirk. “you’ve got an interesting taste. planning on lending me these?” jisoo’s eyes glittered with amusement, though the smile on his lips was sharp. “if it suits your fancy, i’d be more than happy to let you borrow them. but something tells me you’re not here just for a light read.”

namjoon’s expression hardened, and he snapped the book shut with a decisive clap. “why was i called here?”

jisoo didn’t seem perturbed by the shift in his tone. he folded his arms and leaned back against the nearest shelf, his posture relaxed yet calculating. “the court lady who prepared crown prince taehyung’s breakfast was found hanged this morning. a curious case, given that it’s rather difficult to hang oneself in such a manner.” namjoon’s eyes narrowed. “a suicide, then?”

jisoo shook his head, his gaze darkening. “not quite. a death staged as a suicide, which suggests the involvement of someone who knows their way around the palace. someone with the means to silence her before she could speak.” namjoon’s smirk faded as he absorbed the implications. “you’re suggesting it’s someone within the royal family. perhaps even a prince.”

jisoo nodded, his expression grave. “that’s exactly what i’m suggesting. and you’re the one I want to find the culprit.” namjoon let out a low, humorless laugh. “what am i, a dog now? people keep calling me a wolf, and you must think i’ve actually become one.”

jisoo’s gaze remained steady, unflinching. “you’ve spent years in the shadow of this court, namjoon, watching and learning. no one knows the intrigues here better than you.” he turned away, pacing slowly between the shelves, his thoughts churning. “i’m a hostage, jisoo, not a hound to be sent sniffing out conspiracies.”

jisoo’s voice followed him, cool and measured. “maybe you were. but that display earlier—killing your horse in front of everyone—that wasn’t the act of a hostage. it was the act of a man who no longer wants to live as one.” namjoon halted, his back to jisoo, his fists clenching at his sides. the truth of those words stung, even as they ignited a flicker of something deep within him—a desire for something more, something beyond the chains that had bound him for so long.

he continued, his tone coaxing, “if you fulfill this task, it could be your chance to claim that freedom you’re so desperate for.” namjoon remained silent, weighing the offer. the idea of being free, of no longer living under the constant threat of being used as a pawn, was tempting. but the risk was high, and the stakes higher still. it was then that jisoo dropped the final piece of information, his voice softening almost imperceptibly. “it was crown prince taehyung who requested this investigation.”

namjoon’s breath caught in his throat, and he turned slowly to face jisoo. “taehyung?” he echoed, his voice laced with disbelief. before he could respond, the door to the library creaked open, and tae stepped inside. his presence was commanding, even in the quiet, scholarly atmosphere of the room. he was dressed in the formal robes befitting his station, though there was an air of exhaustion about him, as if the weight of the crown was already pressing down heavily on his shoulders.

“crown prince taehyung.” namjoon bowed his head slightly, though his eyes remained on the prince, searching for answers. taehyung’s expression was calm, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease. “namjoon,” he greeted, his voice steady despite the tension that hung in the air. “i’m glad you’re here.”

jisoo stepped forward, his tone shifting to one of deference. “your highness, i’ve informed him of the situation.” tae nodded, his gaze never leaving namjoon. “there have been whispers of an assassination attempt during the upcoming rites. if those whispers are true, i need someone I can trust to root out the traitor before it’s too late.”

namjoon’s eyes narrowed as he considered the prince’s words. this was more than just palace intrigue—it was a matter of life and death. “and if i succeed?” he asked, his voice low, careful. tae met his gaze squarely, the gravity of the situation reflected in his eyes. “if you find the one responsible, i’ll give you anything you ask for.” namjoon’s heart pounded in his chest as the possibilities raced through his mind. this was his chance—his chance to finally step out from the shadows and take control of his own destiny. but he wasn’t about to make it easy for him.

“anything?” he asked, his voice carrying a note of challenge. taehyung didn’t flinch. “anything.”

namjoon let the silence stretch between them for a moment before he spoke, his voice steady and clear. “i want to live here, permanently.”

taehyung’s eyes widened slightly, the request taking him by surprise. he had expected namjoon to ask for land, titles, perhaps even power. but the capital, along with a wife, that was a different kind of demand altogether. “done,” he said after a moment, his voice firm with resolve. “if you find the culprit, i’ll see to it that you’re granted a permanent residence in songak.”

the ladies of hansol’s household bustled around the courtyard, their nimble fingers busy at work crafting delicate lanterns shaped like flowers. the air was filled with the scent of freshly cut paper and the faint tang of glue, mingling with the laughter and chatter of the women. each one of them worked with a practiced ease, folding and cutting the colored paper with precision to create intricate designs. you, however, were utterly hopeless at it. no matter how hard you tried, your fingers fumbled with the delicate materials, and your lanterns came out misshapen and clumsy.

it wasn’t long before princess seulgi took notice. her sharp eyes caught every flaw, every misstep, and she wasn’t one to let them slide. “it seems your amnesia has taken more from you than just your memory,” she remarked, her tone laced with disdain as she inspected your work. she held up one of your malformed creations with a look of barely concealed disgust. “this is hardly suitable for the rites.”

you bit back a retort, feeling your frustration rise. it was bad enough that you were struggling with those tasks, but having seulgi point out your failures so openly stung even more. still, you were determined to prove yourself, to show that you weren’t as useless as she made you feel. “i can still help,” you insisted, trying to keep the desperation out of your voice.

she raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a mocking smile. “very well,” she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “since you’re so eager to contribute, why don’t you make the glue for us?”

you didn’t miss the challenge in her tone, nor the way the other ladies exchanged glances, their expressions tinged with pity. making glue was a dirty job, often relegated to the lowest servants, but you swallowed your pride and nodded. “i’ll do it,” you replied, trying to sound confident.

the task was every bit as grueling as she had intended. you were sent outside, away from the cool shade of the courtyard, to work under the sun. the thick, sticky mixture of rice flour and water required constant stirring to keep it from burning, and the heat made the air feel heavy and oppressive. your arms ached from the effort, and sweat dripped down your forehead, but you pushed through, determined not to give seulgi the satisfaction of seeing you falter.

at one point, you paused to stretch, your body protesting the repetitive motion. you leaned back, stretching your arms overhead and bending at the waist to relieve the tension in your muscles. the movement was hardly graceful, but you were too focused on easing your discomfort to care. it wasn’t until you straightened up that you noticed hansol standing a short distance away, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. you froze, feeling a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks. the thought of hansol watching you as you contorted yourself in such an ungainly manner made you want to shrink into the ground. quickly, you turned back to the pot of glue, resuming your stirring with renewed vigor. “the princess put me to this task,” you explained, trying to sound nonchalant despite your awkwardness.

hansol’s lips twitched in a barely suppressed smile. “i see you’re demonstrating your many talents,” he said, his tone dry as he echoed your earlier words. you couldn’t help but laugh, despite yourself. “yes, well, i suppose i should have specified that glue-making wasn’t one of them,” you replied, shaking your head at the absurdity of the situation. he chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine. for a moment, the tension between you eased, and you found yourself feeling grateful for his presence. but before you could say more, he was called away by one of the other princes, leaving you to your task once more.

later in the day, the princes gathered to prepare for the upcoming rites, practicing a ceremonial sword dance that required both grace and precision. tenth prince baekhyun was by far the worst at the dance. his movements were stiff, his timing off, and after several failed attempts to keep up with the others, he finally threw down his sword in frustration. “this is pointless,” he muttered, his tone sulky as he stalked off to the side, clearly in no mood to continue.

the other princes paused, taking a break from their practice. ninth prince yeosang, took the opportunity to speak up. “is it true that the king intends to abdicate his throne to crown prince tae after the ceremony?” the question hung in the air, bringing everyone up short. even the most practiced of the princes couldn’t hide their surprise at the boldness of his inquiry. all eyes turned to jisoo, who had been observing the practice from a distance.

jisoo’s expression was unreadable as he responded. “i know nothing of the sort,” he said carefully, his tone giving nothing away. but his non-answer only fueled the tension. hansol frowned at yeosang, his voice low and admonishing. “you were foolish to say that, kwan. the king must not hear such rumors.” third prince chaehee crossed his arms and spoke up. “we’re all curious, hansol. and it’s not yeosang’s fault for asking. besides, jisoo didn’t exactly deny it outright.” the tension among the princes was intense, each of them silently weighing the implications of the question.

exhausted from the day’s work, you decided to rest outside, hoping to clear your mind. as you leaned back against a tree, you noticed a familiar figure walking by, his robes fluttering slightly in the breeze. it was jisoo, the court astrologer—and, you realized with a start, the hobo from the pier. the recognition hit you like a lightning bolt, and without thinking, you leapt to your feet and took off after him.

“wait!” you called, your voice breathless as you darted through the courtyard. jisoo glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing in recognition, and then he began to move faster, slipping through the narrow alleys of the city with practiced ease. you chased after him, your heart pounding in your chest, but he was always just out of reach, his figure disappearing around corners and ducking into shadows. finally, you lost sight of him altogether, standing in the middle of a busy street with no idea where he had gone. the disappointment was bitter, and you were about to turn back when the sound of hooves thundered through the air.

namjoon came riding furiously down the street, his horse galloping at a breakneck pace. villagers dove for cover as he barreled through, his expression set in a fierce scowl. you didn’t see him until the last moment, too distracted by your pursuit of jisoo to notice the danger. by the time you did, it was too late—you froze in the middle of the street, your eyes wide with shock as the horse bore down on you.

a peddler’s pack brushed against you, knocking you backward. you stumbled, arms flailing as you teetered on the edge of the ravine that bordered the street. the ground seemed to drop away beneath you, and you felt the sickening lurch of gravity pulling you down. panic surged through you, your mind racing with the realization that you were about to fall. but just as you began to tip over the edge, a strong hand shot out and grabbed you around the waist, pulling you up with a force that left you breathless. you were yanked into the saddle, your body pressed against namjoon’s as he steadied his horse with a firm grip. for a moment, you could only cling to him, your heart pounding in your chest as the adrenaline coursed through your veins. the world spun around you, the near-fall leaving you shaken and disoriented.

you stared up at namjoon, wide-eyed and breathless, your fingers clinging desperately to his robe as the horse thundered through the city streets. the wind whipped through your hair, your heart still pounding from the near fall into the ravine. for a moment, all you could focus on was the intensity of namjoon’s face—the sharp line of his jaw, the cool indifference in his left eye, the slight frown that seemed permanently etched into his brow. it was as if he held the world at arm’s length, letting nothing and no one touch him. the ride was brief but harrowing. you felt the rhythm of the horse’s hooves beneath you, the power of its muscles as it responded to namjoon’s every command. you wondered, not for the first time, what it would take to unearth a flicker of emotion from him, something other than the stoic mask he wore so effortlessly.

finally, namjoon slowed the horse, bringing it to a halt just outside the palace gates. the sudden stop jolted you from your thoughts, and you blinked up at him, still gripping his robe as if it were a lifeline. his gaze flicked down to you, the barest hint of curiosity in his eyes, before he looked away. without warning, his arm released you, and you found yourself unceremoniously dumped onto the ground. you landed in an undignified heap, the breath knocked out of you as you hit the dirt. for a moment, you could only lie there, staring up at the sky in stunned disbelief.

“what the hell was that for?” you demanded, scrambling to your feet and glaring up at him. you dusted yourself off, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and anger. “you could’ve at least helped me down like a normal person.” namjoon tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable as he regarded you. for a moment, you thought he might apologize—or at the very least, offer an explanation. instead, his lips quirked into a faint, mocking smile.

“perhaps i thought you’d enjoy the challenge,” he replied, his tone infuriatingly calm. you narrowed your eyes, not about to let him off the hook so easily. “you’re impossible, you know that? just because you ride in here like a—”

but before you could finish, namjoon clicked his tongue, and the horse reared up on its hind legs. you stumbled backward, losing your balance as the horse’s hooves pawed the air above you. panic surged through you, and you fell back onto the ground once more, landing with a hard thud. by the time you regained your composure, namjoon had already ridden off, the sound of his horse’s hooves echoing through the streets. you stared after him, fuming, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. he was insufferable, arrogant, and completely out of control.

“lady nabi, are you all right?” you turned to see chaeyeon hurrying toward you, her face etched with concern. she reached out to help you up, her hands warm and steady. “what happened? i saw you with prince namjoon just now.” you sighed, brushing off your clothes once more as you accepted her help. “it’s nothing. just a misunderstanding,” you muttered, trying to sound nonchalant despite your lingering irritation.

chaeyeon gave you a skeptical look but didn’t press further. instead, she glanced over her shoulder, as if worried someone might overhear. “princess seulgi is looking for you,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with urgency. “you should come quickly.”

with a nod, you followed her through the palace grounds, your mind still reeling from the encounter with namjoon. as you walked, she filled you in on the latest developments—apparently, seulgi was currently meeting with her brothers, or at least the six of them who got along. namjoon was noticeably absent, though it was clear from the tension in the air that his presence, or lack thereof, weighed heavily on the gathering.

by the time you reached the small courtyard where the meeting was taking place, you could already hear the low murmur of voices. the princes were discussing something in hushed tones, their expressions serious. as you and chaeyeon approached, you caught snippets of their conversation, the words charged with a sense of foreboding.

“…difficult to get along with him,” one of the princes was saying, his voice tinged with frustration. “he’s moody and unpredictable. it’s like walking on eggshells around him.” you recognized the speaker as tenth prince baekhyun, his youthful face twisted into a pout. his words were met with nods of agreement from the others, though no one seemed willing to voice their thoughts too openly.

just as he opened his mouth to continue, the door to the courtyard slid open with a soft thud. the princes fell silent, their eyes snapping to the entrance as namjoon stepped inside. the tension in the room was heavy, the air thick with unspoken worries. seulgi was the only one who looked pleased to see him, her face lighting up with a smile as she stood to greet him. “namjoon,” she said warmly, moving toward him with a graceful sweep of her robes. “i’m so glad you could join us.”

namjoon offered a polite nod. “it’s good to see you,” he said, though his voice lacked its usual warmth. but before he could say more, chaehee, the third prince, cut in with a smirk. “don’t try too hard with namjoon, brother. he understands the language of beasts better than people.”

the barb hung in the air, and the other princes stiffened, exchanging uneasy glances. even seulgi’s smile faltered slightly, her eyes darting between namjoon and chaehee, as if bracing for the fallout. but namjoon didn’t react as expected. instead, he simply met chaehee’s gaze with a calm, measured look. “ah,” he said softly, his voice as cool as ice, “that’s why i understand my brother’s words so well.”

the room went silent, the tension simmering beneath the surface. even the normally boisterous sang seemed cowed, his earlier bravado evaporating in the face of namjoon’s quiet menace. the princes exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of how to respond. at that moment, the maids entered the courtyard, carrying trays laden with snacks and refreshments. it was also your cue to join the gathering, though you hesitated, doing your best to hang back out of sight. the last thing you wanted was to draw attention to yourself, especially with namjoon’s unnerving presence so close by.

but your attempt to skulk behind a pillar didn’t go unnoticed. baekhyun caught sight of you and immediately zeroed in, his eyes narrowing as he tried to place why you seemed so familiar. “you there!” he called out, his voice ringing through the courtyard as he stepped closer. “i know you from somewhere, don’t I?”

you froze, your heart sinking as his gaze locked onto yours. he was right, of course—you had crossed paths before, but not in any way you wanted to be reminded of. you went cross-eyed in panic, silently praying that he wouldn’t figure it out. but he was nothing if not persistent. his brow furrowed as he racked his brain, and then his eyes lit up with recognition. “wait a minute, weren’t you the peeping tom at the baths?” the words hit you like a ton of bricks, and before you could stop yourself, you blurted out a denial. “no! absolutely not!”

but in your haste to deny the accusation, you stumbled backward, accidentally knocking into a maid carrying a tray. the tray wobbled precariously, and with a horrified gasp, you watched as the plateware went crashing to the ground, shattering into pieces with a deafening clatter. for a moment, the entire courtyard fell into a stunned silence. all eyes were on you—the princes, the maids, even chaeyeon—each one of them staring in varying degrees of shock and disbelief. seulgi’s expression darkened, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene.

“what have you done?” her voice was low and cold, her tone cutting through the air like a knife. “are you truly so incompetent that you can’t even keep out of trouble for a single day?” faced with her anger and a roomful of staring princes, you felt a wave of mortification crash over you. the humiliation was too much to bear, and without thinking, you turned and bolted from the courtyard, your footsteps echoing off the stone walls as you fled. as you ran, you caught a glimpse of namjoon out of the corner of your eye. he was standing off to the side, his expression unreadable as he watched you go. but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, perhaps, or maybe something else entirely.

you ran through the palace corridors, your heart pounding in your chest. slowing your pace, you took a moment to lean against a column, forcing yourself to take deep, steadying breaths. “hang in there,” you whispered to yourself, willing your racing heart to calm. the palace, with its sprawling halls and myriad of secrets, was a dangerous place for someone like you—a place where one wrong move could mean disaster. but you couldn’t let yourself be consumed by fear or anger. you had to stay sharp.

as your breathing evened out, you heard footsteps echoing through the hallway. panic gripped you again as you realized who it was—baekhyun, the tenth prince. he was still convinced he recognized you correctly and was now on the prowl, searching for you. you quickly ducked behind a pillar, watching him from your hiding place. he moved with eagerness, his eyes scanning every nook and cranny as he walked. you bit your lip, hoping he would pass by without noticing you. then, he stopped in front of a door, peering through a small tear in the fabric that covered it.

you tensed, realizing where he was looking. on the other side of that door was chaeyeon, who had no idea she was being watched. baekhyun’s eyes widened with curiosity as he leaned in closer, clearly intrigued by what he was seeing. you felt a surge of anger. it was one thing to be an immature prince, but this—this was crossing a line.

before you could react, chaeyeon suddenly looked up and saw him. her eyes went wide with horror, and she let out a sharp scream that echoed through the hallway. the sound startled baekhyun, and he stumbled back from the door, his face pale with shock. without thinking, he turned and ran, his feet slipping on the polished floor as he tried to make a hasty escape. but he didn’t get far.

you stepped out from your hiding place, planting yourself firmly in his path. your eyes narrowed with determination, you crossed your arms over your chest, blocking his way. sang skidded to a stop, his expression a mixture of guilt and indignation. “what are you doing?” he blurted out, his voice cracking slightly as he tried to regain his composure. “move aside!”

you didn’t budge. “where do you think you’re going, prince baekhyun?” you asked, your voice stern, it almost sounded like a grandmother scolding an errant schoolboy. “you think you can just run off after what you did?”

his eyes darted around, as if looking for an escape route. “i didn’t do anything!” he protested, though his voice lacked conviction. “that slave—she’s lying! she can’t prove anything!” his mouth opened and closed as he fumbled for a response, but you cut him off, taking a step closer to him. “don’t lie, i saw it clearly,” you said, your voice firm. “what you did was wrong, and you need to apologize.”

the prince’s face twisted with a mix of outrage and disbelief. “apologize? to a slave?” he scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. “i’m a prince! i don’t bow to the likes of her—or you, for that matter!” but you didn’t back down. “you may be a prince, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat people like that,” you shot back. “you owe her an apology, and i won’t let you leave until you give it.”

his eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you could see the childish petulance rising in him. he turned on his heel, determined to storm off, but you weren’t about to let him go that easily. you reached out and grabbed the edge of his cloak, pulling him back. “let go of me!” he shouted, trying to shake you off. he shoved you hard, and you stumbled back, crashing to the ground. the impact sent a fresh wave of anger surging through you, and as you sat there, stunned, you decided you’d had enough.

without a second thought, you lunged forward, grabbing him by the ankle and yanking him off balance. he yelped in surprise as he went down, flailing his arms in a futile attempt to stay upright. the two of you hit the ground with a thud, and before he could recover, you pounced on him, grabbing a fistful of his hair. “what are you—?” he began, but his words were cut off as you pulled his head back, your eyes blazing with fury.

“you think you can just shove me around and get away with it?” you growled, your voice low and dangerous. “i don’t care if you’re a prince—i’ll still kick your ass.” he tried to push you off, his hands scrabbling at your arms, but you held on tight, refusing to let go. his struggles only fueled your anger, and before you knew it, the two of you were engaged in a full-on tussle, rolling across the ground in a tangle of limbs.

baekhyun managed to get one arm around your neck, pulling you into a headlock, but you were too fired up to care. you twisted and turned, using every ounce of strength you had to break free. when his grip loosened for just a moment, you sank your teeth into his arm, biting down hard. “ow! you bit me!” he howled, letting go of you in shock. but before he could recover, you kicked him in the side, sending him sprawling onto his back. you didn’t give him a chance to get up. you climbed on top of him, your fists clenched, and started smacking him repeatedly.

“spoiled brat,” you hissed, each word punctuated by a slap. “you think you can do whatever you want, but i won’t let you! you’re a pervert, a peeping tom—” sang flinched with each blow, his hands raised in a feeble attempt to protect his face. “stop! you’re going to regret this!” he shouted, but his words only fueled your rage.

“i’ll regret it?” you spat, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “you’re the one who should be regretting everything. you think i’m going to let you get away with this? not a chance!” his eyes blazed with fury, but there was also a flicker of fear in them. “you won’t escape unscathed, you know that?” he warned, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation.

but you were too caught up in your fury to care. you grabbed him by the collar, pulling him up so that your faces were inches apart. “we’ll see about that,” you hissed, before delivering a final, mighty head-butt. the impact stunned both of you, the force of it reverberating through your skull. baekhyun’s head snapped back, and he let out a pained groan, his eyes glazing over as he struggled to stay conscious. you, too, felt the dizziness wash over you, but you refused to let it show.

with him dazed beneath you, you rolled up your sleeve, ready to deliver a doozy of a slap that would leave a mark. but just as you were about to bring your hand down, a strong grip caught your wrist, stopping you mid-swing. you looked up, startled, and found yourself staring into the amused eyes of namjoon. his hand was wrapped around your wrist, holding it firmly but not painfully. he seemed almost entertained by the sight of you and sang sprawled out on the ground like children caught in a schoolyard brawl.

“what do you think you’re doing?” namjoon asked, his voice calm and composed, but with an undercurrent of amusement that made your blood boil even more. you gaped at him in surprise, struggling to find the words. “i—he—” you stammered, trying to pull your wrist free from his grasp, but namjoon’s hold was unyielding.

before you could say more, baekhyun, still reeling from the head-butt, tried to charge at you, his face twisted in anger. “let me go! she—she attacked me!” he yelled, his voice shaking with indignation. but hansol appeared just in time, stepping between the two of them with a stern expression. “that’s enough, baekhyun,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “there are eyes watching. we can’t afford to make a scene here.”

baekhyun glared at him, his chest heaving with fury, but he knew better than to argue with his elder brother. with a final huff of frustration, he flounced off, storming down the hallway in a fit. namjoon finally released your wrist, and you scrambled to your feet, your heart still pounding from the confrontation. you couldn’t believe what had just happened—the fight, the princes, and now namjoon, standing there with that infuriatingly calm expression.

you narrowed your eyes at him, the anger from before flaring up once more. “and what about you?” you demanded. the anger that had fueled your fight with sang still simmered beneath your skin, and now it was directed entirely at namjoon. “you’re not getting away without an apology.”

his brow arched, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a half-smile. “an apology?” he repeated, as if the concept was entirely foreign to him. “who are you to demand such a thing from me?” you squared your shoulders, refusing to be intimidated. “someone who deserves respect, that’s who,” you shot back. “or do you only apologize to people who share your bloodline? because if that’s the case, then maybe you should start practicing, seeing as you’re on such thin ice with your brothers.”

his eyes darkened at that, the playful glint disappearing as something more dangerous took its place. he stepped closer, towering over you, his presence suddenly more imposing. “so, if you’re a slave, i ignore you,” he murmured, his voice low and deliberate. “but if you were a princess, i’d bow at your feet? is that what you’re saying?”

you held your ground, though your heart was pounding in your chest. “i’m saying respect should be given regardless of status. but clearly, that’s a concept beyond your understanding.” for a moment, there was silence between you, the tension thick in the air. then, without warning, namjoon leaned in, his face inches from yours, his voice dropping to a whisper. “when i do apologize,” he said slowly, each word enunciated with chilling precision, “it means you’ll die.” before you could respond, namjoon turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding in your chest, your mind racing. his words echoed in your ears, the warning clear, but so too was the challenge.

the moon hung low in the sky, casting an ethereal glow over the palace grounds as you made your way to the bathing pools. the path was quiet, the only sounds your footsteps and the occasional rustle of leaves in the night breeze. the stillness of the night mirrored the turmoil within you. the jisoo man you’d seen earlier—was he real, or had your desperate mind conjured him from nothing? it felt like a sign, divine or otherwise, a spark of hope that there was a way to return home. you desperately needed to leave goryeo, especially with the looming punishment for hitting a prince hanging over your head. every step toward the bathing pools solidified your resolve. if there was even the slightest chance that jisoo held the key to your escape, you had to find him.

the pools were a serene sight, surrounded by tall trees that shielded them from the rest of the palace. you hesitated for a moment, peering into the dark waters before slipping into the pool. the water was cool, a refreshing contrast to the heat that had built up in your body from your frantic thoughts. you submerged yourself, holding your breath as long as you could, as if the water could wash away the fear and anxiety knotting in your chest. when you finally emerged, gasping for air, your eyes locked onto a figure standing at the edge of the pool.

namjoon. his mask was off, revealing the multitude of scars crisscrossing his back and torso, alongside the gash on his eye. the moonlight accentuated the lines of his disfigurement, a stark reminder of the pain he must have endured. his gaze was fixed on the still water, lost in thought, until your sudden appearance shattered the silence.

his head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise. for a moment, the two of you were frozen, caught in each other’s gaze. then, in a swift motion, namjoon’s hand flew to his face, covering the scarred eye with a mix of shame and fear. “did you see?” he asked, his voice hesitant, almost childlike in its vulnerability. you could only stare, your mind blank with shock. Tthe sight of his scars, the rawness of his question, rendered you speechless. but his expression darkened at your silence. he stepped closer, and before you could react, his hand shot out, grabbing you by the throat.

“i asked if you saw!” he bellowed, his grip tightening. the suddenness of the attack, coupled with the sheer strength behind it, made your heart race in terror. “please, please,” you gasped, your hands clawing at his arm in a desperate attempt to free yourself. “i won’t say anything! i swear.”

namjoon’s eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of deceit. the intensity of his gaze was suffocating, but you forced yourself to meet it, praying he would believe you. “forget me,” he ordered, his voice low and menacing. “forget what you saw here tonight.” you nodded jerkily, too afraid to do anything else. after what felt like an eternity, he released you, his hand trembling slightly as he backed away. he grabbed his mask and clothes, casting one last look at you before turning on his heel and disappearing into the night.

as he left, a small object fell from his grasp, unnoticed by him in his haste. you waited until you were sure he was gone before approaching the spot where it had landed. it was a hairpin, intricately designed, delicate in its craftsmanship. you picked it up, holding it gingerly in your hand. it was a small thing, but something about it felt significant, as if it held a piece of his story. clutching the hairpin to your chest, you slowly made your way back to the palace. the long walk back gave you time to think, to process everything that had happened. your heart still raced from the encounter, but beneath the fear, there was a growing realization that namjoon wasn’t just the cold, unfeeling prince you had initially taken him for.

by the time you reached the entrance of the household, the entire family was waiting for you outside. their faces were a mix of worry and anger, and your stomach dropped at the sight. “where have you been?” lady ja demanded, stepping forward with an air of authority. her tone was sharp, but the underlying concern was unmistakable. “you left without a word! the whole household has been worried sick.”

the word “family” struck a chord within you, and you blinked in surprise. It was such a simple thing, but hearing it made something inside you shift. you looked around at the faces surrounding you, at the worried expressions of the servants, the stern gaze of lady ja, and something clicked into place.

“I’ve… come home,” you whispered to yourself, the words heavy with realization. and for the first time since you’d arrived in this strange world, it didn’t feel so foreign. you didn’t feel so lost. there was still much you didn’t understand, still so much to figure out, but in that moment, you felt a small, tentative sense of belonging.

queen jinyoung soaked in the warm bath, her body submerged beneath the surface, save for her head resting against the smooth edge of the porcelain tub. steam rose in delicate wisps, curling around her face and obscuring the sharpness of her features. the water was scented with jasmine and lavender, calming scents that usually soothed her nerves. but tonight, they failed to quiet the storm brewing in her mind.

she stared at the ceiling, her thoughts drifting back to the recent conversation she had with her eldest son, chaehee. it had been late at night, the palace shrouded in darkness, when he had come to her chambers. chaehee was always careful, always discreet, and he knew better than to be seen sneaking into his mother’s quarters at such an hour. the candles flickered as he entered, casting his face in a dance of light and shadow, highlighting the tension etched into his brow.

“we can’t wait any longer,” chaehee had said, his voice low and urgent. “the rumors are spreading faster than we anticipated. the court is abuzz with talk that the king may abdicate the throne to tae.”

jinyoung had felt her chest tighten at his words. she had known this day would come, had prepared for it, but the reality of it was still a bitter pill to swallow. taehyung, the crown prince, was favored by the king in ways that none of her sons were. he was seen as the rightful heir, the embodiment of everything the king wished to pass on to the next generation. but jinyoung knew better. taehyung was a threat—a threat to her sons, to their future, to everything she had fought so hard to secure.

“we need to speed things up,” she had murmured, her fingers gripping the armrest of her chair with a white-knuckled intensity. “the upcoming ceremony is our best chance. if we’re going to eliminate tae, it has to be then.” chaehee had nodded, his eyes gleaming with cold determination. “leave it to me, mother. i’ll ensure everything goes according to plan.”

“see that you do,” jinyoung had replied, her voice steely. “we cannot afford any mistakes.”

now, as she lay in the bath, those words echoed in her mind. the plan was set into motion, and there was no turning back. the fate of her sons rested on the success of this plot. her heart pounded with a mixture of anxiety and resolve. if tae were to ascend the throne, her family’s future would be in jeopardy. but if they succeeded—if they succeeded, her sons would finally have the power and recognition they deserved.

she closed her eyes, letting the warm water soothe her aching muscles, but not her troubled thoughts. the image of chaehee’s face, so full of confidence and ruthlessness, stayed with her. she had raised him well, molded him into the man he needed to be in this cutthroat world. but even as she took pride in his ambition, there was a part of her that worried. the stakes were higher than ever, and if they failed—no, she couldn’t think of that. failure was not an option.

the following day, the princes gathered in the training grounds for one final run-through of their sword dance. the air was thick with anticipation, the weight of the upcoming ceremony hanging over them like a shroud. taehyung stood at the front, watching the princes with a critical eye as they practiced the intricate choreography. the dance was a vital part of the ritual, a symbol of the unity and strength of the royal family as they drove out the demons from the palace.

the princes moved in perfect synchronization, their swords slicing through the air with practiced precision. tae couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride as he observed them. despite the tension that often simmered beneath the surface, they were still his blood, and they had trained long and hard for this moment. as they completed the final sequence, tae’s lips curved into a rare smile of approval. “well done,” he praised, his voice carrying over the training grounds. “we’re ready.”

tenth prince baekhyun, panting slightly from exertion, turned to thirteenth prince kyeom with a mischievous grin. “do you think she’ll be here today?” he asked, a hint of eagerness in his tone. daniel smirked, catching the excited glint in baekhyun’s eyes. “who? the one who gave you that lovely black eye?”

the other princes chuckled, and baekhyun’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “it wasn’t like that!” he protested, though his smile betrayed him. “sure it wasn’t,” chaehee drawled, his voice laced with amusement. “you just happened to trip into her fist, is that it?”

the teasing continued, lightening the mood among the brothers. even namjoon allowed himself a small smile at baekhyun’s expense. but as soon as he caught hansol’s gaze on him, that smile faded, replaced by the stoic mask he usually wore. hansol’s eyes were thoughtful, as though he was trying to puzzle out something about namjoon, but he said nothing.

meanwhile, chaehee’s attention was drawn to a line of black-clad men entering the grounds, their faces obscured by demon masks. they were part of the ritual, their role to represent the evil spirits that the royal family would symbolically banish. but to hyun, they were more than just performers. he had chosen them carefully, ensuring that they were loyal to his cause. his eyes flickered with a brief, calculating light as he watched them take their positions.

but chaehee wasn’t the only one with a plan. unbeknownst to him, tae had been working on his own counterplay. the crown prince had always been astute, quick to sense when something was amiss, and he wasn’t blind to the undercurrents of tension surrounding the ceremony. that’s why, in a quiet moment before the ritual began, he sought out namjoon. the exchange of masks was swift, and soon namjoon was clad in the elaborate costume of the crown prince, his face hidden behind a mask that bore the markings of leadership. taehyung donned a simpler outfit, blending in with the other princes as they prepared for the ceremony.

the palace courtyard was packed with onlookers, all eager to witness the grand ritual. the air was thick with the scent of incense, and the rhythmic beat of drums set the tone for the performance. namjoon took the lead position, his presence commanding as he stood at the forefront of the princes. to everyone watching, he was the crown prince, the one who would lead them in driving out the demons.

the ritual began, a carefully choreographed mix of martial arts and dance. namjoon moved with fluid grace, his sword cutting through the air in perfect harmony with the rhythm of the drums. the other princes followed his lead, their movements synchronized as they played their part in the elaborate display. as the dance progressed, the demon-masked men entered the scene, their presence dark and ominous. they advanced toward the princes, their swords drawn, and the real battle began. namjoon took them on with an impressive display of skill, his movements precise and controlled. he danced between them, his sword clashing against theirs in a series of carefully timed strikes.

chaehee, also masked, joined namjoon in the fight, their swords working in tandem as they recited an incantation to drive out the demons. the performance was flawless, a testament to the hours of practice they had put in. but then, something unexpected happened. more masked men appeared, descending from above like shadows. their arrival was sudden and unplanned, and immediately, the king and jisoo knew that something was wrong. the newcomers weren’t part of the ritual—they were assassins.

the atmosphere shifted in an instant, the crowd’s murmurs turning into gasps of alarm as the assassins drew their swords and charged at namjoon. jisoo’s voice rang out, calling for the soldiers to protect the king, and the royal guards surged forward, surrounding the king’s platform. namjoon, still masked and mistaken for the crown prince, found himself at the center of the attack. he fought back with fierce determination, his sword moving in a blur as he defended himself against the onslaught. but the odds were overwhelming, and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t fend them off alone.

hansol was the first to realize that something was amiss. without hesitation, he charged into the fray, his sword flashing as he cut down the attackers. the other princes followed suit, their faces set in grim resolve as they joined the battle. together, they evened the numbers, driving back the assassins with a renewed vigor. chaehee caught sight of one of the demons—the very man he had conspired with. their eyes met through the slits in their masks, and in that brief exchange, a silent understanding passed between them. hyun knew this was the moment he had been waiting for, the moment to strike and make it look like an accident.

with calculated precision, he maneuvered himself closer to namjoon. the sounds of clashing swords and the shouts of the combatants filled the air, masking the tension that thrummed between the two brothers. namjoon was fully engrossed in fending off another attacker when a third made its move. he twisted his sword in a way that seemed unintentional, a misstep in the dance of battle, and his blade sliced across namjoon’s arm.

he gasped as pain seared through him, his sword slipping from his grasp as he staggered backward. the world seemed to slow as he looked down at the wound, blood soaking into the fine fabric of his costume. for a moment, he was disoriented, his mind reeling from the unexpected betrayal. and then, as if on cue, one of the assassins saw his opportunity. the masked figure lunged at him, sword raised for the kill. namjoon, weakened and caught off guard, could do nothing but brace himself for the inevitable.

but at the last possible second, another figure intervened. a masked prince—swift, precise, and unyielding—threw himself between namjoon and the assassin, deflecting the blow with a resounding clash of steel. namjoon barely had time to register what had happened before he was pushed aside, the masked prince taking his place in the fight. the assassin hesitated, momentarily thrown off by the sudden shift, and in that brief hesitation, the masked prince drove his sword through the attacker’s chest. the demon crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

the remaining assassins, sensing that their plan was unraveling, began to retreat. hyun, still masked, barked orders at the soldiers, commanding them to chase down the fleeing attackers. the courtyard was a chaotic whirlwind of movement as the soldiers pursued the assassins, determined to capture them before they could escape. the king, who had been watching the scene unfold with mounting dread, hurried down from his platform the moment the danger had passed. his gaze was frantic as he looked for taehyung, his fear palpable. but when he reached the center of the courtyard, he stopped short, his breath catching in his throat.

the mask had been removed, and instead of tae, he found namjoon standing there, clutching his wounded arm. the realization struck the king like a blow, and for a moment, he was speechless, the words caught in his throat. “where is taehyung?” the king demanded, his voice tight with fear and urgency.

namjoon, already in pain and now reeling from the king’s clear distress, felt a pang in his chest that had nothing to do with his injury. he swallowed hard, the hurt evident in his eyes, as he struggled to find the words to respond. the king’s priority had always been tae, and now, in this moment of crisis, it was clearer than ever.

before namjoon could respond, tae stepped forward, still clad in his simpler attire, but with a regal bearing that could not be mistaken. “i’m here,” he said calmly, though there was a sharpness in his tone that hadn’t been there before. the king’s shoulders sagged in relief, and he immediately moved to embrace tae, his concern for mamjoon seemingly forgotten in the wake of his son’s safety. tae, however, held himself stiffly, his eyes flicking toward namjoon with an unreadable expression.

queen jinyoung, watching from a distance, felt her heart sink as she realized her carefully laid plans had been thwarted. the ceremony had been the perfect opportunity to eliminate taehyung, but now, it was clear that her plot had failed. worse, her eldest son had been implicated in the attempt on namjoon’s life. she knew there would be consequences, and the realization filled her with dread.

namjoon, his face pale from the loss of blood, suddenly spoke, his voice cutting through the tension in the courtyard. “i’ll catch them,” he declared, his tone firm despite his injury. without waiting for permission or acknowledging the pain in his arm, he turned and began to walk away, his steps purposeful and determined.

“namjoon, wait—” taehyung called out, moving to follow, but the king grabbed his arm, holding him back. “no, taehyung,” the king said, his voice filled with urgency. “you can’t go after him. it’s too dangerous.” his eyes flashed with frustration, but he stopped in his tracks, his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword. he watched helplessly as namjoon continued on, his figure growing smaller as he disappeared into the palace corridors.

the city streets blurred past namjoon as he sprinted through the narrow alleys, his focus entirely on the figures moving with alarming speed across the rooftops. the assassins, their dark silhouettes stark against the night sky, seemed to dance effortlessly between the buildings, but namjoon was relentless. his breath came in sharp bursts, each exhale mixing with the cool night air as he pursued them with a single-minded determination.

his boots pounded against the cobblestones, his cloak billowing behind him like a dark specter in the night. the chase led him out of the city and into the dense woods that bordered the outskirts. the trees loomed tall and foreboding, their branches like skeletal fingers reaching out to ensnare the unwary. namjoon’s heart raced, adrenaline pumping as he navigated the underbrush, the moonlight casting eerie shadows across his path.

he finally caught sight of the assassins again, their figures moving with purpose through the trees. his gaze locked onto one of them—a particularly formidable figure—whose sword gleamed ominously in the moonlight. with a burst of speed, he closed the distance, drawing his own sword with a metallic hiss. the confrontation was immediate and intense. the assassin met namjoon’s blade with a skilled parry, the clash of steel echoing through the woods. they circled each other, eyes locked, each strike and counterstrike a testament to their training and resolve. mamjoon’s movements were precise and calculated, each swing of his sword a carefully measured attack. the assassin, equally adept, responded with a series of fluid, almost graceful maneuvers, his own blade a deadly extension of his will. it was his lifeline, it was what his second family taught him to do. the rumor had long swept the palace that namjoon had hunted down every wolf in the area, and he only proved it to be true.

as they fought, you had been wandering through the woods, taking a break from your sightseeing. the peaceful silence of the forest had been disrupted by the sounds of the fierce battle, and curiosity had drawn you further into the woods. the clash of swords was soon replaced by more hushed, but still tense, sounds as you stumbled upon a secluded clearing.

there, hidden behind the trees, you watched in horror as a group of masked assassins gathered around a figure you recognized as prince chaehee. the assassins, their heads bowed in deference, stood in a semi-circle around him. his expression was cold and calculating as he surveyed the group, his eyes gleaming with a ruthless edge. with a wave of his hand, he dismissed the failed assassins, his voice a low murmur of disdain. the air grew tense, and you watched in growing dread as his guards stepped forward. without hesitation, the guards drew their blades and executed the failed assassins. the silent, efficient killings were over before you could fully process what was happening.

you gasped involuntarily, the sound escaping before you could stifle it. the noise was faint, but in the quiet of the night, it was enough. chaehee’s head snapped around, his eyes scanning the shadows for the source of the disturbance. panic surged through you, and you took a step back, trying to retreat quietly. you bolted, stumbling through the underbrush as fast as you could manage. the woods seemed to close in around you, branches snagging at your clothes as you fled.

namjoon had managed to subdue the assassin he was fighting. panting heavily, he pressed the blade of his sword against the assassin’s throat, his eyes cold and unyielding. “tell me who you’re working for,” he demanded, his voice a low growl. the assassin, still reeling from the fight, hesitated. namjoon’s grip was unrelenting, and the assassin’s eyes darted nervously. his eyes flicked towards the trees, sensing that something was off. just as the assassin seemed on the verge of breaking, you burst into the clearing, breathless and disheveled.

“help!” you gasped, staggering towards namjoon. “you don’t understand, i saw—” before you could finish, the assassin saw an opportunity. he grabbed you, holding his sword to your throat with a threatening snarl. namjoon’s eyes widened in shock, his blade momentarily faltering. namjoon’s expression hardened, and he raised his sword, pointing it directly at your face. the cold steel of the blade felt like a chilling weight on your skin, and you could see the glint of the edge as it pressed against your neck.

“please,” you begged, your voice trembling. “just let me go.” namjoon’s smirk was icy and detached. “one woman means nothing to me,” he said, his tone devoid of sympathy. “tell me what i want to know.”

the assassin wavered, his grip on the sword loosening slightly. namjoon’s gaze was steely, his resolve unshaken. he pressed the assassin further, his voice a harsh demand for the name. victory seemed close at hand when you took a desperate measure. with a burst of adrenaline, you bit the assassin’s hand, the sudden pain causing him to stagger back.

the assassin stumbled in fury, moving to strike you again. namjoon’s reaction was swift, but before he could intervene, a dagger flew through the air, embedding itself in the assassin’s head. the figure slumped to the ground, lifeless, as hansol stepped into view. his arrival was dramatic but unwelcome for namjoon. the older prince’s presence was a complication namjoon had not anticipated. his eyes flashed with anger as he turned to confront hansol.

“you ruined everything,” he snapped, his sword still pressed close to your bloody neck, grabbed you roughly, his expression a mixture of frustration and rage. “why did you have to interfere?”

hanaol’s eyes were sharp and unwavering as he faced namjoon. with a flick of his wrist, he drew his sword, pointing it menacingly at his neck. “let her go,” haneul ordered, his voice firm and commanding. namjoon’s gaze met his, and in a swift, fluid motion, he whirled to clash swords with him. the metal of their blades met with a resounding clash, sparks flying as they engaged in a tense duel. the forest seemed to hold its breath as the two princes fought, their movements a deadly ballet of skill and precision.

“why should i?” namjoon spat, his voice laced with frustration. “this woman cost me answers. i won’t let her go until i get what I need.”

the night air was still and heavy as you stood among the trees, the remnants of the chaotic battle echoing in the distance. namjoon’s grip was a vice around your throat, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and disbelief. hansol, standing nearby, observed the scene with a stern expression. “you’re saying you saw a group of assassins being killed?” namjoon’s voice was a harsh whisper, his grip tightening as he tried to extract the truth from you. “by someone’s guards?”

you nodded frantically, trying to catch your breath. “yes, i swear. they were executed. i saw it happen.” namjoon’s eyes narrowed. “show us where.”

you led them through the woods, your heart pounding as you moved swiftly through the darkened paths. the eerie silence that followed was suffocating. when you finally arrived at the spot, the clearing was empty, devoid of any evidence of the massacre you had described. you looked around, your voice trembling. “i swear, it was here. they were killed by guards. i saw it with my own eyes.”

namjoon’s patience snapped. he grabbed you roughly by the neck, his face a mask of fury. “you’re lying,” he growled. “there’s nothing here.” fear surged through you, and you gasped for breath. “i’m not lying!” you pleaded, tears streaming down your face. “i saw it. i swear i did.”

hansol had been the one examining the surroundings. his eyes caught a subtle detail on one of the trees—a patch of blood, faint but unmistakable. “look,” he said, pointing at the stain. “they were definitely here.”

namjoon’s grip on your neck loosened as he turned to inspect the bloody patch. His expression shifted from anger to contemplation. “so whoever killed them is the one who hired them,” he deduced. he turned back to you, his gaze sharp and unrelenting. “what else did you see? who else was there?”

panic gripped you, and you shook your head frantically. “i couldn’t make out the face. It was too dark, too chaotic.” namjoon’s eyes flashed with anger once more. “you’re lying. i know you are. don't you know i'll kill you for it?”

the threat hung in the air like a dark cloud, and your sobs grew louder as the weight of his words sank in. “why are you so cruel?” you cried out, your voice cracking. “what have i done to deserve this?”

he seemed momentarily taken aback by your anguish. his expression softened ever so slightly, but his resolve remained firm. “you’re in my way,” he said coldly. “i need to solve this issue, and if you’re not helping, you’re a liability.”

through your sobs, a memory surfaced—a fleeting image of the killer. you recalled a detail that had seemed strange in the midst of the chaos. “he had fur on him,” you blurted out. “i saw fur. i don’t know whose it was, but there was fur.”

namjoon and hansol exchanged a look of recognition. they knew immediately who the fur might belong to. namjoon’s eyes widened with realization. “if you didn’t see his face, then we’re still dealing with a mystery, but that clue is crucial. i need to find him now.” without another word, he turned and sprinted back towards the city, his figure quickly disappearing into the night. you were left standing in the woods, your body trembling with sobs.

hansol, watching you from a distance, observed your emotional state with a mixture of curiosity and concern. he approached you slowly, his expression softening. despite the gravity of the situation, he found something oddly endearing in your distress. he hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward and gently enveloped you in his arms. his embrace was warm and reassuring, a comforting contrast to the harshness you had just experienced. “it’s okay,” he murmured softly, his voice soothing. “you’ll be alright. i promise.”

you clung to him, your tears soaking into his robes as you wept uncontrollably. hansol’s hand gently stroked your back, shushing you softly. “you did your best,” he said, his tone calming. “just try to stay calm. we’ll figure this out.” as the tears slowly subsided, you could feel haneul’s reassuring presence grounding you, offering a sliver of comfort amidst the turmoil. the night continued to envelop the woods in its dark embrace, but for a moment, in his arms, you felt a fragile sense of security.

you woke to the soft light of dawn filtering through the windows, a gentle warmth settling over you as you stirred from sleep. the sudden clatter of footsteps and the murmur of voices drew you from your dreams. you blinked groggily and found lady ja standing beside your bed, her face etched with concern. “wake up,” she said, her voice a mix of urgency and worry. “i’ve been looking for you. what happened to your neck?”

you touched the tender area where the assassin's blade had grazed you. “it’s nothing,” you assured her, offering a reassuring smile despite the sting. “i’m fine. it’s just a scratch.” she didn’t look entirely convinced but let it go, focusing instead on the bustle around her. the other maids were helping her sort through a collection of old gowns, meticulously folding and packing them.

“what’s all this for?” you asked, observing the activity with curiosity. “it’s for a donation,” lady ja explained, her tone carrying a hint of pride. “the king has these events from time to time, where old clothes are given to those in need. hansol goes to oversee the donations.”

you tilted your head, thinking. “does he go alone?” she nodded, confused. “yes, he usually does. why do you ask?” you shrugged. “i think you should go with him. it’s what husbands and wives do, isn’t it?” her eyes lit up with a soft smile. “is that so?”

you nodded enthusiastically. “of course. and if you want, i could even do your makeup for you. it would be my pleasure.” lady ja’s gratitude was evident in her eyes. “would you really? that would be wonderful.”

“absolutely,” you said, eager to help. you busied yourself with powders, oils, and brushes, working diligently to enhance her features. as you applied the makeup, you apologized for your lack of experience. “i’m not quite used to this yet. i hope it turns out alright.”

she seemed pleasantly surprised as you finished. “you did a marvelous job,” she said, taking the mirror you handed her. her eyes widened in amazement. “you’ve made me look so youthful.” you smiled, feeling a sense of accomplishment. “i’m glad you like it. enjoy yourself today.”

to your surprise, she had other plans. “no, you should come with me. i’d like your company.”

you both ventured out together, joining the others in distributing food to the children. from a distance, hansol observed you with a warm, approving smile. the scene was bustling with activity. you were handing out treats to the eager children when a small altercation caught your attention. one of the boys snatched a treat from his friend’s hand and dashed off, leaving his friend in tears.

without hesitation, you pursued the boy, your heart pounding as you caught up to him. you knelt to his level, pinching his cheek gently. “is it okay to steal from a friend?” you asked softly. the boy shook his head, eyes wide with remorse. “then,” you said with a smile, “how about we make a deal? if you give the treat back, i’ll give you both two each.” the boy’s face brightened as he returned the stolen treat. you handed out the additional treats, and the children’s smiles returned. lady ja watched, her eyes filled with admiration, while hansol’s smile broadened. the scene was one of simple joy, and it seemed to resonate deeply with both of them.

you found chayeon in the corridor, her calm demeanor contrasting sharply with your rising panic. your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve as you approached her. “chayeon,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “what’s the punishment for hitting a prince? is it severe?” she glanced up from her tasks, a hint of discomfort in her eyes. “it’s not something to take lightly,” she said vaguely, her tone evasive. “it could be quite serious.”

before you could probe further, the clatter of footsteps and the sight of two guards alerted you to prince baekhyun’s arrival. he climbed the stairs with an air of authority, his gaze fixed on you.

“you should show more gratitude,” he said as he approached, his tone unexpectedly light. you blinked, confused. “gratitude for what?”

his expression shifted awkwardly. “i had to beg the king to let you go unpunished.” you were taken aback by his unexpected revelation. “why would you do that?”

baekhyun hesitated, unable to find the right words. the silence stretched between you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if his actions stemmed from something more personal. the thought that he might be harboring feelings for you crossed your mind, but he remained tight-lipped. before you could voice your curiosity, you gave a sincere, “thank you.”

you turned to leave, but sang’s voice halted you. “wait,” he called, his tone shifting to something more casual. “you should repay me for this favor.”

you arched an eyebrow. “repay you how?” baekhyun’s gaze softened slightly, though he still maintained his composure. “i want to see you at least once a day, every day.”

a laugh bubbled from your lips, both relieved and amused. “that’s the least i can do,” you said, beginning to walk away. “consider this our first day,” he called after you, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. with a final nod, you walked away, feeling a strange mix of relief and curiosity about the new arrangement.

the night was cloaked in darkness as namjoon raced through the narrow, twisting paths leading to the hidden temple. his breath came in ragged bursts, the cold night air stinging his lungs as he pushed his horse to its limits. the news of the renounced monks taking refuge in an isolated temple had reached him in the midst of the chaos, and he knew he had to act swiftly. the steep, rocky hillside loomed ahead, its shadowed contours barely discernible against the moonlit sky.

the temple was perched precariously at the top of the hill, its ancient stone walls weathered and worn. as he approached, he could see the flickering glow of torches from within the temple's crumbling walls. he dismounted swiftly, drawing his sword as he climbed the final ascent. his mind raced with thoughts of the assassins who had attacked him, their inability to speak striking him as odd. he recalled tales of monks who had their tongues cut out as punishment, their silence a symbol of their penance.

reaching the temple, he found the entrance unguarded, the heavy wooden doors hanging loosely on their hinges. the interior was dimly lit by a few scattered torches, their light casting eerie shadows on the cracked and crumbling walls. the air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and incense, a remnant of long-forgotten rituals. the temple seemed abandoned, but an unsettling sensation of being watched prickled at the back of his neck.

he closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the subtle sounds around him. the rustle of fabric, the faint creak of wooden beams, and the whisper of unseen movements made his senses keenly aware. suddenly, a figure lunged at him from the darkness, a dagger gleaming in the dim light. instinctively, namjoon deflected the attack with his sword, the blade clashing with metal. he spun around, narrowly avoiding a thrust from a spear, and with a swift and decisive motion, cut down the attacker.

the clamor of combat erupted as more figures emerged from the shadows, surrounding namjoon. he fought with a fierce determination, his movements fluid and precise. his sword sliced through the air, each strike calculated and deadly. the attackers were relentless, but namjoon’s skill was unmatched. he dispatched the first wave of opponents with ruthless efficiency, their bodies falling to the ground as he pressed on.

“where is your leader?” he demanded, his voice cold and commanding. when he received no reply, he growled in frustration. “is there no one here who can speak?” a burly man, his face concealed by a demon mask, charged at him. with a practiced swing, namjoon cut the man’s throat, the blood spraying in a grotesque arc. the temple’s interior was now a scene of carnage, the floor slick with blood and littered with the fallen bodies of the monks. namjoon’s sword flashed through the darkness, his movements a deadly dance of precision and power.

the fight was brutal, each clash of steel and every cry of pain adding to the growing chaos. namjoon’s dexterity with both the long sword and short dagger was apparent, his skill honed through years of training and combat. the battle seemed to stretch on endlessly, but namjoon’s resolve never wavered. his efficiency was such that within minutes, the last of the monks lay defeated on the cold stone floor.

the silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the distant crackle of flames. namjoon stood alone amid the carnage, his breath coming in heavy, labored gasps. just then, the doors to a nearby building burst open with a deafening crash, and a lone monk stepped out, his eyes cold and calculating. he bowed to namjoon, his expression inscrutable.

“are you the one responsible for this?” namjoon asked, his voice laced with steel. the monk’s gaze was unwavering. “these men had their tongues removed as punishment for their grave sins,” he said. “i have looked after them.”

namjoon’s face hardened. “then all i have to do is get rid of you.” the monk’s eyes flickered with a hint of something—fear, perhaps. “for whom are you doing this?” he asked. “does your mother know?”

namjoon’s smile was cold and dangerous. “a place of no speech, yet someone here has a lot of words,” he replied. he raised his sword, the blade gleaming in the flickering light. “you’ll die for her sake.” the monk’s defense was swift but ultimately futile. namjoon’s first blow was deflected, but he pressed on with a series of quick, lethal slashes. the monk fell to the ground, the life draining from him as namjoon’s sword pierced his gut. as the man gurgled out his final breaths, namjoon leaned in close, his voice a deadly whisper. “you’ve lived off the queen, so now you die for her.”

with that, namjoon turned and walked away, the weight of his bloody sword heavy in his hand. the temple was already beginning to burn, the flames consuming the ancient structure in a brilliant, destructive blaze. the night was filled with the crackling of fire and the distant wail of sirens as he made his way down the hillside. as he staggered away from the burning temple, the sight of the inferno lighting up the dark sky, he found himself near the palace. his heart pounded with a mix of adrenaline and exhaustion. he needed to confront his mother, to make her understand the cost of her machinations.

in the dead of night, he slipped into the palace unnoticed, his steps silent on the cold marble floors. he made his way through the labyrinthine corridors until he reached queen jiyoung’s chambers. the door was slightly ajar, and he could see the queen sleeping soundly within. without hesitation, namjoon pushed the door open and stepped inside. his bloodied sword still dripping, he approached the bed where his mother lay. queen jiyoung stirred, her eyes opening in shock as she saw the figure looming over her. she shrank back, her face a mask of fear.

namjoon’s smile was a mix of sadness and resolve. “you will remember this night,” he said softly, his voice carrying a bitter edge. “you abandoned me, but i shall not leave. i ask only that you see me.”

the night air was still, heavy with the smoke from the burning temple. namjoon, covered in blood and soot, wandered through the quiet, his mind a tumultuous storm of rage and pain. his steps led him to a small, serene area by a river, where prayer stones were meticulously stacked by mothers who sought divine protection for their children. the sight of these humble offerings, imbued with the hopes and fears of countless families, was like a cruel reminder of the normalcy and peace he had been denied.

with a sudden, violent motion, he lashed out at the prayer stones. his sword, still slick with the blood of the monks, sliced through the air and sent a stack of stones toppling over. they tumbled and scattered across the ground, the delicate balance of their arrangement shattered. his face twisted into a mask of fury as he watched the chaos he had wrought, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps.

you had been trailing on a path of your own, yet his distress and desperation were in reach. as you saw the destruction and the storm of emotions on namjoon's face, you rushed forward to try and stop him. but as you neared, he turned and roughly shoved you away, his strength surprising and painful. you stumbled, barely catching yourself as you fell to the ground. when you looked down, your hands were smeared with the remnants of the toppled stones and, to your horror, the blood that had transferred from his.

hia laughter came out in a jagged burst, a chilling sound that reverberated through the night. “it’s the blood of those i killed today,” he declared, his voice a mix of derision and anguish. he looked at you with a wild, unhinged expression, his eyes alight with a manic energy. the laughter died in his throat as he glared at you, his anger and despair mingling in a volatile mix.

“why do you even care about these prayer stones?” he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty space. “my mother shouldn’t be here praying. she should come to me and beg for mercy instead.”

you tried to hold him back, your voice trembling but resolute. “you’re injured,” you said, hoping to redirect his attention. you meant his hand, which was gripping the sword with a force that must have caused him pain. but instead of heeding your concern, namjoon grabbed you by the collar, his grip tight and unyielding. his eyes, though fierce, held a flicker of surprise at your lack of fear.

“i told you,” he warned, his voice low and intense, “i killed people.” his words hung heavy in the air, and you met his gaze with calm understanding rather than the fear he seemed to expect. you did not flinch or recoil but remained steady, sensing the torment within him.

“i understand,” you said softly. “tell me what happened. why did you do it?”

the vulnerability in your tone seemed to reach him, and for a moment, his fierce grip loosened. he stared at you, confusion and a touch of something like relief crossing his features. he shook his head, as if trying to dispel the emotions swirling within him. “go,” he said, his voice cracking. “you don’t need to be here.”

but you stood firm. “no,” you said. “i understand more than you think. you grew up in a world where wielding a sword was a necessity, where killing was not a choice but a survival tactic. what you did today—what you’ve done—was driven by what you were taught.”

namjoon’s face was a mask of conflicted emotions, his eyes searching yours for judgment or pity. instead, he found only empathy. “but what can you do?” you continued, your voice steady and kind. “what can anyone do in a world like this? you must be feeling so miserable right now. i think i understand.”

his grip on your collar finally released, and you took a step back, giving him space. he remained where he was, his body slumped slightly as if the weight of his actions was beginning to sink in. he stared at the scattered prayer stones, his breathing ragged and uneven. you turned and began to walk away, leaving him to grapple with his grief and anger amidst the ruins of the prayer offerings. the night air was cool against your face, and the distant sounds of the village were muted. as you walked away, you glanced back once, seeing namjoon standing alone in the moonlight, the broken stones a mere reminder of the cost of his struggles.

the punishment for namjoon’s reckless act of burning down the temple had been swift and severe. though his role in thwarting the assassination attempt had earned him some leniency, the king had ordered him to be isolated from the other princes for a time—enough to reflect on his actions and the consequences they might have had. he had fulfilled his promise and did all he could to protect tae, which did not go unnoticed. he was given the right to stay. in fact, he was given the right to stay at the palace, but with rewards came consequences. he was to remain confined to a small, remote building on the palace grounds, away from the eyes of the court and the whispers that followed his every move.

the morning had been uneventful, a silence hanging heavy in the air as namjoon spent his hours alone, the weight of solitude pressing down on him. the palace, so full of life and noise, felt a world away from where he now sat, by the stream that bordered the isolated quarters. the water moved slowly, mirroring his own sluggish thoughts as he stared into the distance, lost in the turmoil of his mind.

inside the palace, the maids were gathered in a small cluster, their voices low but urgent as they debated amongst themselves. “i’m not going,” one of them whispered harshly. “i heard what he did. he’s dangerous.” another shook her head, her hands trembling as she twisted the fabric of her apron. “but someone has to take him his lunch. he hasn’t eaten since yesterday.”

“then you take it,” the first maid retorted, crossing her arms defiantly. “i’m not risking my life.”

“i’ll go.” the maids turned, surprised at the sound of your voice. you stood at the edge of the group, having overheard their conversation as you approached. your expression was calm, resolute, as you looked at the tray of food they were hesitating over. “i’ll take it to him,” you repeated, stepping forward and reaching for the tray. the maids exchanged uneasy glances but made no move to stop you.

“are you sure, my lady?” chaeyeon asked, her voice laced with doubt. “they say he’s not right in the head after what happened.” you met her gaze steadily. “i’m sure.”

with the tray in hand, you made your way to the stream, your footsteps light and measured. the closer you got to namjoon’s solitary retreat, the more you could feel the tension in the air, like the calm before a storm. you found him sitting at the very end of the stream, where the water pooled in a small, quiet basin before continuing its journey downstream. he was alone, as you had expected, his figure tense as he sat with his back to you, staring into the distance.

for a moment, you hesitated, unsure if he had heard you approach. but then you gathered your resolve, stepping forward and setting the tray down on the ground beside him. the sound of the plate touching the stone was a soft, delicate clink that seemed to echo in the silence. “eat while it’s warm,” you said gently, your voice breaking the quiet.

namjoon didn’t respond, didn’t even turn to look at you. his silence was heavy, but you could sense the conflict within him, the battle between pride and despair waging just beneath the surface. you turned to leave, respecting his need for solitude, but as you took a step back, something stopped you. a frown creased your brow, and before you could think better of it, you sat back down beside him. the water flowed softly beside you, a soothing presence amidst the tension.

“i won’t say a word about what i saw,” you said quietly, your eyes fixed on the stream. you didn’t need to elaborate; you both knew what you were referring to—the prayer stones, his confession, the blood on your hands. namjoon finally turned to you, his eyes dark and intense as they searched your face. “i know,” he said, his voice low, almost a murmur.

you tilted your head slightly, studying him. “how do you know? because you’ll kill me if i do?” to your surprise, namjoon’s lips curved into a small, almost incredulous smile. it was the first sign of softness you had seen from him since your encounter by the prayer stones.

“i can’t believe you’re not afraid of me,” he said, a hint of wonder in his tone. there was something vulnerable in the way he looked at you, as if he couldn’t quite understand why you weren’t running from him like the others. you returned his smile, though yours was softer, more reassuring. “why would i be afraid of you?”

namjoon’s gaze faltered, and for a moment, he seemed lost in thought. “you saw me without my mask,” he began, his voice tinged with a sadness that made your heart ache, “you should be afraid of an ugly face like that.” you shook your head, your expression earnest. “i could never be afraid of you,” you said softly, the sincerity in your voice undeniable. “besides, you were never ugly.”

the silence between you was thick with unspoken emotions, the air around you charged with the weight of what wasn’t said. namjoon studied you, as if searching for any hint of deceit in your words, but finding none. then, as if realizing the futility of his own brooding, he released a small sigh. “you should go,” he said, though there was no force behind his words. “this isn’t a place for you.”

you forced yourself to feign seriousness, though your heart ached for him. “eat the food,” you said, trying to bring some normalcy back to the moment. “i have to take the plates back.” his lips twitched into a faint smile, the closest thing to real warmth you had seen from him in a long while. “all right,” he conceded, reaching for the plate. you watched as he began to eat, your heart heavy with the knowledge of his pain, but also with a sense of hope that led him to think that he wasn’t as alone as he felt.

lady ja lay in her bed, her breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps as the illness that had ravaged her body slowly drained the life from her. the once vibrant, commanding presence of the lady of the house was now reduced to a frail figure, barely recognizable beneath layers of quilts. her face, once full of warmth and intelligence, was pale, her skin translucent like fragile porcelain, and her eyes were dull, clouded with the pain she could no longer voice.

beside her, hansol knelt, his tall frame bent low as he held her hand, his fingers trembling slightly as they clasped hers. he had seen her strength, her will to survive, but now all of that was slipping away, and he was powerless to stop it. the room was dim, the soft flicker of candlelight casting long shadows on the walls, as if the darkness itself was encroaching upon her. “my lady, please hold on,” he whispered, his voice thick with the desperation he could no longer contain. he squeezed her hand gently, trying to offer her whatever strength he had left. the weight of what was happening, of what he was about to lose, pressed down on him like an unbearable burden.

lady ja’s lips curled into a weak smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes, as she gazed at him with a mixture of tenderness and resignation. “your highness,” she murmured, her voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the silence of the room. “i know you don’t love me.”

her words struck him worse than a physical blow, and his eyes widened in shock, tears welling up and spilling over before he could stop them. he opened his mouth to protest, to tell her she was wrong, but the words caught in his throat, choking him with their falseness. he couldn’t lie to her, not now, not in those final moments. seeing the truth in his eyes, lady ja’s smile grew sadder, her hand—a mere shadow of its former strength—reached up to brush a stray tear from his cheek. the touch was feather-light, but it burned with the weight of everything left unsaid between them.

“i’ve seen the way you look at her,” she continued, her tone gentle, free of any bitterness or accusation. “i know you’ve grown to care for her.” haneul’s chest tightened painfully, guilt and sorrow warring within him as he struggled to keep his composure. the truth in her words was undeniable, and it tore at him to know that she had been aware of it, even as she lay dying.

“take care of her,” lady ja whispered, her voice growing weaker with each word, as though even speaking was now too great an effort. “If you can, marry her.”

the tears flowed freely now, silent but unrelenting, as hansol held her hand, feeling the life slipping away from her with each passing second. her breathing grew fainter, her chest rising and falling in a barely perceptible rhythm until, finally, it stopped altogether. her eyes fluttered shut, the last remnants of life leaving them as she passed into the silence that awaited her. for a moment, hansol was frozen, his mind struggling to comprehend that she was gone. the room seemed to hold its breath, as if the world itself had paused in reverence of her passing. he leaned over her, pressing her hand to his lips, the weight of his grief pressing him down until it felt as though he might be crushed beneath it.

it was then that you entered the room, returning home after what you had expected to be just another day. you stopped short in the doorway, your eyes landing on the scene before you—lady ja’s lifeless form on the bed, hansol hunched over her, tears staining his cheeks. panic surged through you, a cold, sharp terror that clawed at your chest and left you gasping for breath. the sobs began to tear from your throat uncontrollably, your mind refusing to accept what your eyes were seeing. you stumbled forward, your hands reaching out as if to pull her back from the brink, to undo what had already been done.

hansol turned at the sound of your cries, his expression weary and etched with sorrow, but there was something else there too—a deep, all-consuming sadness that made your heart ache. his voice was quiet, almost a whisper, as he spoke to you. “be quiet,” he said, his tone gentle yet firm, the words laden with a grief that was beyond anything you could imagine. “let’s not wake my wife.”

the absurdity of his request, of the idea that she could be woken, struck you like a physical blow, and for a moment, you stood frozen, staring at him in disbelief. the reality of the situation, the finality of her death, slowly sank in, and the sobs caught in your throat, leaving you breathless and trembling. you collapsed to your knees beside the bed, your hands covering your face as you wept, the sound muffled but filled with a raw, unfiltered pain that echoed through the room. hansol remained by lady ja’s side, his hand still holding hers, as he watched you with a look of profound sorrow. there were no words left to say, nothing that could ease the pain or make the loss any less devastating.

lady ja’s funeral was a somber affair, the sky overcast and heavy with unshed rain, as if the heavens themselves mourned her passing. the courtyard was filled with mourners, all dressed in white, the traditional color of mourning. the air was thick with the scent of incense, its curling tendrils rising like prayers to the gods above, carrying with them the sorrow and grief of those left behind. you stood among the sea of mourners, your heart a leaden weight in your chest, eyes fixed on the simple wooden casket that held lady ja’s body. it was adorned with white lilies, their delicate petals trembling in the light breeze, a cold contrast to the cold, unyielding wood that now encased her. the image of her peaceful face, so serene in death, was etched into your mind, and the tears you had fought so hard to contain began to blur your vision.

beside you, hansol was a figure of quiet devastation. his usually composed demeanor had crumbled in the face of such overwhelming loss. his eyes, red-rimmed and hollow, were fixed on the casket, his hand gripping yours with a desperation that belied his outward composure. you could feel the tremors that ran through him, the silent sobs that shook his frame as he struggled to keep his grief in check. chaeyeon stood on his other side, her small frame trembling with barely restrained emotion. her usually bright eyes were dulled with sorrow, and she clutched a small white flower in her hands, her knuckles white from the intensity of her grip. her gaze never left lady ja’s casket, and you could see the tears streaming down her cheeks, leaving glistening tracks in their wake. she had been so close to her, and now the loss of her was a wound that would take a long time to heal.

the princes had gathered as well, all of them standing in a line of solemnity. each one wore the same expression of respect and sorrow, but there was something different about the thirteenth prince, younghyun. his usually vibrant, youthful face was marred with an anguish that went beyond the collective grief of the others. his hands were clenched tightly at his sides, and you noticed how he seemed to shy away from the others, as though the weight of his emotions was too much to bear.

the ceremony passed in a blur, the priest’s words of blessing and farewell barely registering in your mind. all you could focus on was the sight of lady ja’s casket as it was slowly lowered into the ground, the finality of it hitting you with a force that nearly brought you to your knees. hansol squeezed your hand harder, as though grounding himself through your presence, and you held on just as tightly, a silent promise that you would face this together.

after the ceremony, the crowd began to disperse, each mourner paying their final respects before departing. you saw younghyun slip away from the others, his shoulders hunched, and you felt an urge to follow him. something about the way he carried himself, the way his steps faltered, tugged at your heart, and you couldn’t leave him to his grief alone.

you found him sitting on the stone steps that led to the courtyard, his face buried in his hands. his shoulders shook with the force of his sobs, and you hesitated for a moment before approaching, unsure of what to say. the last thing you wanted was to intrude on his pain, but you couldn’t stand to see him suffer alone.

“your highness,” you called softly, your voice gentle as you took a seat beside him. he didn’t look up, but his sobs quieted slightly, as though your presence alone was enough to offer some small comfort. “what’s the matter?” you asked, keeping your tone soft, hoping to coax him into opening up.

when he finally looked at you, his face was tear-streaked, his eyes red and puffy from crying. “i loved her,” he confessed, his voice breaking on the last word. you nodded, understanding the depth of his pain. “we all did,” you said, your voice filled with the same sorrow that weighed on your heart.

but he shook his head, his expression filled with a sorrow that went deeper than mere grief. “no,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “she was my first love.”

your breath caught in your throat, and you turned to him, your frown deepening in confusion. “why didn’t it work out?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

younghyun let out a bitter, humorless laugh, the sound rough and full of pain. “because hansol had her heart from the start,” he replied, his voice thick with regret. “no matter how hard i tried, no matter how much i loved her, she was always his.” his words struck you like a blow, and you felt your heart ache for him, for the love that he had never been able to claim. he had loved her so deeply, and yet it had never been enough to win her heart.

he turned to you, his gaze filled with a raw vulnerability that made your heart clench. “she said i reminded her of you,” he said, his voice breaking once more. a tear slipped down your cheek, the weight of his words hitting you with a force you hadn’t expected. you reached out, placing a comforting hand on his, and he grasped it desperately, as though it were the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth.

“she would have given you a chance if she had known,” you said softly, your voice filled with the sincerity of your words. you believed that, in another time, another place, lady ja might have seen the love that younghyun held for her, and perhaps things would have been different. he nodded, his grip on your hand tightening for a moment before he released it, letting out a shuddering breath. he was silent for a long time after that, lost in his thoughts, and you stayed beside him, offering what comfort you could with your presence.

eventually, you knew you had to return to hansol’s place, to be there for him in his time of grief. you rose from the steps, giving kyeom one last look of understanding before you turned to leave. as you walked back, your mind heavy with the events of the day, you were suddenly stopped in your tracks when a hand was clamped over your mouth.

panic surged through you, your eyes widening in fear as you screamed, the sound muffled by the hand that held you. you thrashed violently, struggling to break free, but strong arms held you fast, lifting you off your feet. you were thrown onto a horse, the guards surrounding you offering no explanation as they forced you into the saddle. your heart pounded in your chest, terror gripping you as you were carried away, the familiar surroundings of the courtyard disappearing behind you. the ride to the palace was a blur of fear and confusion. you tried to make sense of what was happening, why you were being taken in such a manner, but your mind was too clouded with panic to think clearly.

when you finally arrived, you were still thrashing, your attempts to escape growing more desperate as they dragged you inside. the guards were silent, their faces expressionless as they hauled you into the grand hall where king taejo sat upon his throne, his gaze cold and calculating as he watched your approach. you forced yourself to bow, your mind racing with fear and confusion. “your majesty,” you stammered, struggling to keep your voice steady. “what is it that you needed?”

king taejo rose from his throne, his presence commanding and intimidating. he stepped down from the dais, his gaze never leaving yours as he approached, the weight of his authority pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

“i’m glad you asked,” he said, his voice smooth, almost pleasant, but there was an edge to it that sent a shiver down your spine. you locked eyes with him, your fear growing with each passing second as he came to a stop before you. there was something in his gaze, something dark and possessive, that made your blood run cold.

“you will become my wife tonight,” he declared, his voice firm and unyielding.

the words hit you like a physical blow, your mind reeling in shock and horror. you had never imagined this, never considered that such a fate would befall you. the reality of it crashed down on you, a wave of dread that left you trembling. but there was no escape, no way to refuse. you were trapped, a pawn in the king’s game, and the realization of it was more terrifying than anything you had ever faced before.

✧.*

a/n: this will take a while since this is based on scarlet heart and ts has like 20 episodes

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?

professor (교수님) — kim namjoon (김남준)

✧.* 18+

the classroom was a haven of knowledge, a place where the boundaries of your mind were pushed and expanded. every time you walked through those doors, you were met with an air of possibility, the faint scent of old books mingling with the fresh anticipation of discovery. all of the professors had ways of making the most complex concepts feel within reach, of turning abstract theories into tangible truths that you could almost hold in your hands.

they spoke with a quiet confidence, their words weaving intricate patterns that painted the vastness of the world before you. each lecture was a journey, guiding you through the twisting paths of philosophy, literature, and history. they had a gift for connecting seemingly unrelated ideas, showing you how the art of renaissance painters could influence modern technology, or how ancient philosophies could still hold relevance in the digital age. under their guidance, you realized that learning wasn’t just about absorbing information; it was about seeing the world through different lenses, understanding the interconnectivity of all things.

you delved into texts that explored the human condition, the nature of existence, and the purpose of life. you wrestled with questions that had no easy answers, questions that required you to look within yourself for understanding. it wasn’t just about gaining knowledge for the sake of it—it was about applying what you learned to your own life, using it as a tool to navigate the complexities of existence.

but among all the things you studied—science, art, history, language—there was one thing that stood out as the most important: the lessons you learned. these weren’t found in any textbook or taught in any lecture. they were the lessons life had already carved into your soul, shaped by your experiences, your failures, your triumphs. under your own guidance, you came to understand that the most valuable knowledge you could acquire wasn’t about facts or theories. it was about the wisdom you gained from living, from making mistakes, and most importantly, from learning from those mistakes. in the end, it wasn’t just the information you gathered that mattered, but how you used it to grow, to become better, and to understand the world and yourself more deeply. if only you had put those lessons learned to better use.

you hadn't been taught the lesson of love, not in the way you had learned about history or philosophy. love was never something you could study in a textbook or learn through the wisdom of others. it was a lesson you learned by living it, feeling it, enduring it. but you had always trusted too easily, believing that everyone who offered you a kind word or a gentle touch had your best interests at heart. it was a trait that made those around you frustrated, watching as you opened yourself up to hurt time and again. even you, in quieter moments of reflection, found yourself exasperated by your own naivety. but you couldn't help it; trusting others came as naturally to you as breathing.

so, it was no shock—no surprise, really—when you got your heart broken for the first time. you were in your early twenties, a time when many had already experienced their share of heartbreaks and fleeting romances. you, on the other hand, had waited. you had held out for something real, something lasting, thinking that by doing so, you could avoid the pain that others had endured. but love, as you learned, didn't work that way.

for two years, you were caught up in what you thought was a love that would last forever. you built your life around it, around him. you imagined a future where the two of you would wake up side by side, where you would make breakfast together in a sunlit kitchen, sharing quiet moments over coffee. you dreamed of nights spent stargazing, your fingers intertwined as you pointed out constellations, finding comfort in the steady light of the north star. your idea of forever was simple, yet profound: it was the promise of a shared life, of growing old together, of finding peace in each other's presence.

his idea of forever was something else entirely. it was a fleeting thing, something that could be found at the bottom of a bottle of vodka or in the anonymity of a cheap motel room. it was in the arms of whoever he could get his hands on first, someone who wasn’t you. the realization that he had been unfaithful—repeatedly, with over fourteen different girls—shattered the image of the life you had built in your mind. every girl was another crack in the foundation of your trust, another tear in the fabric of your heart. it wasn’t just the betrayal that hurt, but the way you had been so blind to it, so willing to believe that what you had was real.

you were devastated, to say the least. the pain wasn’t just emotional; it was physical, a deep ache that settled in your chest, radiating through your entire body. the nights were the hardest. you would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment of your relationship, trying to pinpoint where it had all gone wrong. you wanted to understand how the love you had given so freely could have been so thoroughly disregarded. but no matter how many times you turned it over in your mind, you couldn’t make sense of it.

the worst part was that you couldn’t even be angry with him. you wanted to be—to scream, to curse him for the way he had treated you—but all you felt was a hollow sadness. you were disappointed in him, but more so, you were disappointed in yourself. how could you have let this happen? how could you have been so foolish, so trusting? you had always prided yourself on being smart, on being able to see through people’s intentions, but when it came to him, you had been blind.

the nights following your heartbreak were long, seemingly endless. sleep was a distant stranger, slipping through your fingers every time you tried to grasp it. Instead, you spent those hours in late-night conversations with your friends, searching for solace in their words. their voices were a lifeline, pulling you from the depths of your despair, even if just for a little while. you talked about everything and nothing, dissecting the intricacies of your failed relationship, trying to find some sense of closure that always seemed just out of reach.

those talks were punctuated by silences filled with the quiet clicking of a lighter, the soft exhale of smoke as you shared a joint or two. the haze it brought was a welcome escape, a way to dull the sharp edges of your thoughts, to ease the relentless ache in your chest. it wasn’t a solution, but it was enough to get you through the night, to carry you to the next day. and on those days when the darkness seemed to press in too close, you relied on the small comforts you could control—a coin flipped to decide whether you would indulge in a few too many sweets or abstain from food altogether. it was a way of exerting some semblance of control over a life that felt like it was spiraling out of your grasp.

but after weeks of the same routine, you began to realize that you were merely existing, floating in a limbo of your own making. the conversations, the indulgences, the vices—they were all temporary fixes, distractions that couldn’t mask the hollow feeling that had settled in your chest. you were tired of it, tired of feeling like a shadow of yourself, tired of being weighed down by the remnants of a love that was never truly yours.

and so, one night, as you stared into the mirror, you made up your mind. you were going to step out of the bubble you had been living in, to let loose, if only for a single night. you reasoned that if he could spend two years indulging in every whim and desire, seemingly without consequence, then why couldn’t you do the same for just one night? why couldn’t you, for once, allow yourself the freedom to be someone else, to cast aside the constraints of who you were and embrace something—someone—new?

as you stood there, gazing at your reflection, you barely recognized the person staring back at you. your makeup was bold, the colors striking and uncharacteristic of your usual understated look. the dress you wore was scandalous, clinging to your curves in a way that made you feel both powerful and exposed. it was a look that screamed confidence, even if you didn’t fully feel it yet. but that was the point, wasn’t it? you were going to stop being you for just one night, just enough time to forget, to drown out the memories of a love that had never truly been yours.

you inhaled deeply, letting the air fill your lungs, steadying yourself for what was to come. Yyu weren’t sure what you were seeking—perhaps a fleeting connection, a momentary escape, someone who could make you forget all about him for a few hours. maybe you didn’t need to know. maybe it was enough to simply let nature take its course, to surrender to the night and whatever it might bring.

the club pulsed with a life of its own, the heavy bass thumping through the floor, reverberating in your chest as the neon lights cast erratic shadows across the crowd. bodies moved in sync with the music, a sea of motion and sound that made it easy to lose yourself if you let it. but your mind, despite the alcohol and the haze of smoke in the air, remained annoyingly sharp, focused on anything but the moment at hand.

you leaned closer to your friend, your voice slightly raised to be heard over the music. “did you hear about the new english and philosophy teacher? they’re replacing—”

ahe groaned, cutting you off with an exasperated look. “please,” she begged, placing a hand on your arm, “not tonight. can we just, for once, not talk about teachers or school or anything remotely responsible? we’re here to let loose, remember?”

you hesitated, the words dying on your lips. she wasn’t wrong. you were supposed to be here to escape, to forget, not to get caught up in the mundane details of your everyday life. but old habits died hard, and it was difficult to switch off the part of you that found comfort in routine and order, even when surrounded by chaos. still, you nodded, forcing a smile, and took a deep breath, letting the noise and the lights and the sheer energy of the place wash over you. “okay,” you said, more to yourself than to her. “okay, let’s do this.”

your friend grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she reached for the bottle on the table. the label was foreign, the name of the alcohol something you couldn’t even begin to pronounce. that should have been your first warning, but tonight was all about ignoring those little voices of caution in your head. she poured a shot for you, and then one for herself, the clear liquid shimmering under the lights. “bottoms up,” she said, lifting her glass.

you mirrored her action, the cool glass pressed against your lips as you downed the shot in one swift motion. the burn was immediate, searing down your throat and settling heavily in your stomach. it was unpleasant, but it was also a distraction, a welcome one at that. you had no intention of focusing on the men who watched you from across the room, their eyes lingering on your exposed skin as if you were some kind of display piece. it made your skin crawl, but you forced yourself to ignore it, to focus on the drinking instead. the coin had been flipped, and tonight, apparently, drinking it all away was your new diet. so you did just that. another shot, then another, until the sharp edges of your thoughts began to blur and the leering gazes of strangers became easier to dismiss.

but then, in the midst of it all, you saw him. he was standing at the edge of the crowd, partially obscured by the throng of people. you didn’t see much at first, just a tall figure with a presence that drew your eye. He was turned slightly away, talking to someone, but something about him caught your attention, held it. you found yourself staring, your curiosity piqued in a way that the alcohol couldn’t dull. and then he turned around.

your eyes met, and the world seemed to slow for a moment, the noise around you fading into the background. he was gorgeous, that was your first thought. his features were sharp, striking—high cheekbones, a jawline that could cut glass, and eyes that were dark and intense, holding a depth that made you feel as though he could see right through you. there was a sweet smile on his lips, but it was his eyes that captivated you. there was something almost menacing in them, a contrast that sent a shiver down your spine.

he didn’t look away, and neither did you. for a moment, it was as if the two of you were the only ones in the room, a silent understanding passing between you despite the fact that you didn’t know him, and he didn’t know you. but that didn’t matter. not tonight. before you could second-guess yourself, you did something you wouldn’t normally do. you flashed him a smile, one that you hoped was confident, maybe even a little alluring, and silently prayed that the universe would take your side for once. that, just this once, everything would fall into place.

you turned back around, the music vibrating through your body as you reached for another drink, your hand shaking slightly as you grasped the cool glass. you brought it to your lips and downed it in one go, the burn familiar by now, comforting in its own way. the alcohol was your crutch tonight, something to hold onto as you navigated this unfamiliar terrain of letting go, of not being yourself for just one night. you prayed silently, to whatever or whoever might be listening, that he would come over. that the universe, for once, would be kind. and as if in answer to your unspoken wish, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

you turned, heart racing, and there he was. the man from across the room, the one whose gaze had pulled you in and held you captive. his smile was easy, confident, the kind that could make anyone believe that the night might hold something special, something just for you. “mind if i buy you a drink?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, carrying easily over the noise. “or have you had enough already?”

you smiled, fighting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all. fuck, not another drink or you might just convulse, you thought silently. but what you really said was, “you could keep me company, and i might make it worth your while.” he laughed, a sound that seemed to roll through you like the bass in the music, deep and warm. “i like that offer,” he said, as he took a seat next to you, his presence somehow making the world around you feel smaller, more intimate.

there was something about him, something that made you feel like the night was just beginning, like everything before this moment had been leading up to something. you looked at him, really looked at him, trying to decipher what it was that drew you to him, but all you could see were those eyes, that sharp jaw, the way he seemed to belong in a place like this, even if you didn’t. “what’s a guy like you doing alone in a place like this?” you asked, leaning in slightly, letting the alcohol loosen your tongue.

he shrugged, his expression casual, as if the answer didn’t matter much. “felt like it’d be nice for a change,” he replied, before his gaze slid back to you. “what about you?”

you sighed, the weight of the night settling on your shoulders. “i felt it’d be nice too,” you admitted, “but that feeling was dead wrong.” he laughed again, and the sound was a little sharper this time, a little more knowing. it made you pause, a sudden, unwelcome memory resurfacing—a project due tomorrow, something about socrates. you groaned inwardly, realizing how far you had strayed from your usual path, how this was so unlike you.

“a project,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him, the thought slipping out before you could stop it. he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “what about?”

“socrates,” you said with a hint of frustration. “i decided to do one on him, but it completely slipped my mind.” he scoffed lightly, a smirk playing on his lips. “poor choice, aristotle is much more influential.”

“okay, and?” you countered, a spark of your usual self peeking through. “socrates is the more seminal one.” his amusement deepened, his eyes studying you with renewed interest. “i can’t believe a smart thing like you is in a place like this.”

you frowned, the words not sitting well with you. they reminded you of everything you were trying to forget tonight, everything you didn’t want to be for just a few hours. “i don’t want to be a smart thing,” you said softly, almost to yourself. “not tonight.”

something in his expression shifted, softened, as he looked at you. he placed a hand on your thigh, the touch warm and steady, grounding you in a way that nothing else had that night. “are you sure you feel that way?” he asked gently, his voice low, the words carrying a weight you weren’t sure you could handle. you didn’t feel that way, not really. but tonight wasn’t about what you usually felt, or who you usually were. It was about letting go, about being someone else, if only for a little while. so you forced yourself to nod, even though a small voice in the back of your mind screamed that this wasn’t you, that this wasn’t right.

he seemed to sense your hesitation, but he didn’t push. instead, he simply said, “let me help you.” you opened your mouth to ask what he meant, but before you could, he was gently tugging your wrist, gesturing for you to follow him. your vision, blurred by the alcohol and the dim lighting, focused enough for you to see where he was leading you—to the back, to the private rooms. a sense of unease settled in your stomach, but you pushed it aside, telling yourself that this was what you wanted, what you needed.

you followed him, your heart pounding louder with each step. the corridor to the private rooms was dimly lit, the music a dull thrum in the background. as you walked, he glanced back at you, that same smile playing on his lips, the one that had stopped you in your tracks just minutes earlier. “i never got your name, sweetheart,” he said, his voice teasing, yet somehow sincere.

you gave him your name, “(y/n) (l/n),” the sound of it foreign in your own ears, as if it belonged to someone else. “and yours?” you asked, trying to hold onto the last vestiges of caution.

he turned to you fully then, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of mischief and something else, something darker. “namjoon,” he said, the name rolling off his tongue with a confidence that matched everything else about him. “kim namjoon.” and as he said it, you felt the world shift slightly, as if that name carried more weight than you could understand. but you were too far gone to care, too far gone to do anything but follow him, to see where this night might lead, to forget about everything else—your project, your heartbreak, your old self—and lose yourself in the unknown, if only for a few hours.

the private room was dimly lit, the shadows playing across the walls as you and namjoon stepped inside. the door clicked shut behind you, a sound that seemed to echo in the small space, followed by the unmistakable turn of a lock. it felt final, as if you were sealing yourself off from the rest of the world, from everything you knew, leaving only this moment, this man, and the uncertain promise of the night ahead.

you couldn’t help but watch him as he moved, your eyes tracing the strong lines of his body. the way his broad shoulders filled the space, how his black shirt clung to the muscles beneath, made your heart race. his hands, veiny and strong, were relaxed by his sides, but you couldn’t stop imagining them wrapped around you, feeling their strength and gentleness at once. and his eyes—god, his eyes—were the most mesmerizing of all. they were dark, intense, and held a dangerous kind of allure, like something that could either save you or ruin you, depending on how close you got.

a flicker of doubt wormed its way into your mind. you worried you might not be enough, not for someone like him. he was so composed, so sure of himself, and you—well, you were there trying to forget who you were, trying to become someone else for just a night. what if that wasn’t enough? what if you weren’t enough? namjoon must have sensed your unease because his gaze softened, the same easy smile spreading across his lips as he approached you. his steps were unhurried, confident, and with each one, the air between you seemed to thicken, heavy with anticipation.

when he reached you, he didn’t say anything at first. he simply cupped your cheek in his hand, his touch warm, and surprisingly gentle. his thumb stroked your skin, the soft caress sending a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, all you could do was stare up at him, lost in the darkness of his eyes. “you’re not afraid, sweetheart, are you?” he asked, his voice a low purr that sent another shiver through you. it was a voice that could coax secrets from you, a voice that promised things you weren’t sure you were ready for but found yourself wanting anyway.

was it fear that you were feeling? the heat coursing through your veins, the quickened beat of your heart, the way your skin seemed to burn where he touched you—was that fear? you didn’t know, and the uncertainty of it all made you nervous. but you shook your head, trying to convince yourself as much as him that you weren’t afraid.

he didn’t seem entirely convinced. he let out a soft, almost playful, tsk, his thumb still brushing against your cheek. “you should use your words, yeah?” he coaxed, his tone teasing, but there was an edge of seriousness beneath it, something that told you he wanted you to be sure, that he wanted you to choose this, to choose him. “i promise i’m not,” you managed to say, your voice softer than you intended, but steady enough. it felt like a small victory, a way to prove to yourself that you could do this, that you could be this version of yourself, if only for a night.

it seemed to be enough for him. namjoon’s smile widened, and the warmth in his eyes deepened, drawing you in even further. he leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away, to change your mind, but you didn’t. you couldn’t. you were caught, helpless under the spell he was weaving with every look, every touch. when his lips finally met yours, it was like the world stopped. the kiss was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment, tasting it, tasting you. his lips were soft but insistent, moving against yours with a controlled kind of passion that left you breathless. he wasn’t rushing, wasn’t pushing for more, just kissing you like he had all the time in the world and was determined to spend it unraveling you, piece by piece.

you responded tentatively at first, unsure of how to match the intensity of his kiss. but he guided you, his free hand sliding around your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other. the heat between you flared, igniting something deep within you, something that made you press back against him, your lips parting slightly as you began to lose yourself in the feel of him. namjoon took the invitation, deepening the kiss as his tongue brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. it wasn’t just a kiss—it was a claiming, a way of marking this moment as something significant, something more than just a fleeting encounter in a club. you could feel the way he held you, firm yet gentle, as if he was trying to tell you something without words, trying to show you how he could make you forget everything, even if just for tonight.

your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping them as if they were the only thing keeping you grounded. his body was solid, reassuring, and the way he held you made you feel small, but in a good way, like you were being enveloped by something safe, something you could trust, even if only for these few stolen hours. he pulled back slightly, just enough to break the kiss, and rested his forehead against yours. his breath was warm against your lips, mingling with your own, and for a moment, the two of you just stood there, breathing together, the air thick with the tension and the promise of what was to come.

“you sure about this?” he asked again, his voice a whisper in the small space between you. his eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of doubt, any sign that you weren’t ready. but you were ready. or at least, you wanted to be. you nodded, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. it was calming in a way, a reminder that despite everything, despite the chaos in your own heart, there was something steady, something real, right in front of you. and so, with the taste of him still lingering on your lips, you whispered back, “i’m sure.”

his smile grew, and his hand slid down to the hem of your dress. with one swift tug, he pulled it over your head, revealing your bare skin to the cool air of the room. you felt exposed, vulnerable, but his gaze was like a warm blanket, wrapping around you, making you feel seen and desired. his eyes raked over you, pausing at your tits, your stomach, your hips, and you felt your cheeks flush with heat. he stepped back just enough to take you in, his gaze lingering on your lacy black bra, the one you’d picked out specifically for tonight, hoping it would be enough to catch his eye.

his hands went to his own shirt, and he began to unbutton it, one button at a time, his eyes never leaving yours. the anticipation was almost unbearable, the slow reveal of his chest, his abs, the v of his hips disappearing into his pants. when he was finally bare-chested, you couldn’t help but stare. he was beautiful, sculpted in a way that made your mouth water, and you felt a sudden urge to reach out, to trace every line and curve with your fingertips.

before you could act on the impulse, namjoon stepped closer again, his hand sliding up your back to unclasp your bra. it fell away, and your tits spilled into his waiting hands. his thumbs brushed over your nipples, and you gasped at the sensation, the pleasure shooting straight to your core. his eyes never left yours as he played with you, teasing you, watching as your breath grew shallower, as your eyes glazed over with lust. “you like that, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice a dark promise. and you nodded, unable to form coherent words as he continued to toy with your sensitive flesh, rolling your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, tugging gently until you were squirming against him.

his other hand slid down to your ass, squeezing it firmly, and he stepped closer, pressing his growing erection against your stomach. it was a clear message, one that sent a bolt of excitement through you, making you even wetter than you already were. without breaking eye contact, he leaned down to whisper in your ear, his breath hot against your skin, “you’re so fucking pretty. can’t wait to ruin you.” the words sent a shiver down your spine, and you nodded, your voice a breathless agreement.

his hand moved from your ass to the hem of your panties, and with a quick pull, they were pooled around your ankles, leaving you in absolutely nothing. he knelt down, kissing a trail from your belly button to one your hips, and you could feel the dampness seeping onto his fingers. his fingers slid down your legs, relishing in the fact that you were completely bare before him. his eyes took in the sight of you, and you could see the hunger in them, the desire that mirrored your own.

his hand slid up your thigh, his thumb brushing against your clit, making you jump. he chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent shivers through your body. “you’re sensitive, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice a purr that made you want to melt into him. “yes,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “good, i like that in a woman.”

his hand slid away, and you felt a pang of loss, but it was quickly replaced by the pressure of his mouth on your pussy, his tongue sliding through your folds, tasting you. your legs trembled, and you had to hold onto his shoulders to keep from collapsing. his tongue was skilled, teasing and probing, making you gasp and moan with every stroke. you’d never felt anything like this before, never been this exposed, this wanton. and as he worked you over, you realized you didn’t care. all you cared about was the feel of his mouth on you, the way he was making you feel.

his tongue circled your clit, and you felt your orgasm building, a pressure that grew and grew until you couldn’t hold it back any longer. you cried out, your body shaking as you came, the sensation overwhelming you. namjoon didn’t stop, didn’t ease up, just kept licking and sucking until you were a trembling mess, your legs barely able to hold you up.

he stood, a smug smile on his face, and you couldn’t help but stare at his erection, straining against his pants. he noticed your gaze and chuckled, reaching down to free himself. “you want it?” he asked, stroking himself, and you nodded, your mouth dry with need. he led you to the bed, pushing you down gently. “spread your legs for me,” he said, his voice a command that sent a thrill through you. you did as he asked, your heart racing as he climbed on top of you. he positioned himself at your entrance, and without any preamble, pushed inside you. you gasped, the sensation of his size filling you up, stretching you in the most delicious way.

his thrusts were deep and deliberate, hitting that perfect spot inside you that made you see stars. you wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, your nails digging into his back. he groaned, the sound sending waves of pleasure through you. “you’re so tight, so wet,” he murmured, his breath hot in your ear. “feel so good around me, baby.”

his hand found your ass, and he began to spank you lightly, the sting melding with the pleasure, pushing you closer to the edge again. you moaned, your hips moving in sync with his, your body begging for more. “yes, like that,” you panted, and he complied, his hand coming down harder, the smack echoing in the room.

his movements grew more urgent, his breath coming in harsh pants against your neck. “you’re gonna cum for me again, aren’t you?” he growled, his teeth grazing your skin. “yes, yes, please, namjoon,” you whimpered, unable to hold back the words that spilled from your lips.

his hand moved to your clit, his thumb pressing down as he thrust into you. the pressure was too much, and you shattered, your body clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. he followed closely behind, his own orgasm ripping through him, his body taut with the effort to hold off until you reached yours.

as you both came down from the high, he collapsed on top of you, his weight feeling surprisingly comforting. you could feel his heart hammering against your chest, matching the beat of your own. he kissed your neck, his breathing still ragged, and whispered, “you’re mine for the night, remember that.” and as you lay there, his cock still inside you, you realized you didn’t want it any other way.

his kisses grew softer, more tender, as his hand slid up to cup your cheek. he pulled out slowly, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness, but before you could miss it too much, he rolled onto his back, pulling you with him so that you were straddling him. he was still hard, and the feeling of him between your thighs was enough to make you want more. “ride me, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

you didn’t need any more encouragement than that. you positioned yourself over him, your hands on his chest for balance as you began to slide up and down, his cock filling you with every movement. the sensation was different like this, the angle hitting you in new, delicious ways. you moaned, throwing your head back as you found a rhythm that made your toes curl. namjoon’s hands roamed your body, caressing your tits, your waist, your hips, guiding you, pushing you to go faster, to take him deeper.

his eyes never left yours, watching you with a hunger that made you feel powerful, like you could do anything. and as you moved above him, grinding down on his length, you realized that maybe you could. you felt alive in a way you hadn’t in a long time, free from the constraints of who you were outside of this room.

his thumb found your clit again, and he began to rub it in slow, deliberate circles. your eyes rolled back in your head, and you leaned down to kiss him, your movements growing erratic as you approached the edge once more. he swallowed your moans, his own hips bucking up to meet yours, pushing you closer and closer. you felt it building, the tension coiling in your belly, tightening around his cock. your muscles clenched, and you gripped his shoulders, your nails digging in as you came, your body shaking with the force of it. namjoon’s grip on your hips tightened, his own orgasm following quickly after, his cock pulsing inside you.

you collapsed against him, your breaths mingling, your bodies slick with sweat. his arms wrapped around you, holding you close, and for a moment, you just enjoyed the feeling of him, the way he filled you up in more ways than one. as you caught your breath, you couldn’t help but wonder what the rest of the night would bring. would it be more of this? or would it end with the club, a memory that you’d cherish forever? either way, you knew you’d never forget the way he’d made you feel—like you were the only thing that mattered, like you were the most important person in the world. and as you felt his heart beating in time with yours, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t need to be anyone else but yourself to be enough.

the pale light of dawn was beginning to filter through the cracks in the curtains when you stirred, the dim glow pulling you out of a deep, dreamless sleep. it took you a moment to remember where you were. the unfamiliar surroundings, the dimly lit room, and the soft, warm body lying next to you—everything came rushing back in a disorienting wave. the events of the night before flashed in your mind, and with them, the realization of what time it must be.

your heart began to race as the panic set in. morning classes. you had morning classes, and you weren’t in your bed, you weren’t even in your apartment—you were still here, in a private room that now felt too intimate, too close. you sat up carefully, trying not to disturb namjoon, who was still sleeping peacefully beside you. the sheets were tangled around you both, his hand resting on your thigh, his chest rising and falling with each slow, steady breath.

your gaze dropped to him, taking in the sight of his relaxed features, his slightly tousled hair, the way the early morning light played across his face. he looked almost boyish in his sleep, the sharpness in his eyes softened, his usually confident demeanor replaced by something more vulnerable. it was a sight that made your heart warm, despite the chaos swirling in your mind. for a moment, you hesitated. there was a strange comfort in being there with him, in the warmth of his presence and the softness of the bed beneath you. part of you wanted to stay, to curl back up against him, to let the world outside wait a little longer. but reality was a harsh companion, and the ticking clock in your mind reminded you that you had responsibilities, a life that didn’t include waking up in a stranger’s bed after a night of reckless abandon.

you gently lifted his hand off your thigh, sliding out of bed as quietly as you could. your feet touched the cool floor, sending a shiver up your spine as you quickly scanned the room for your clothes. they were scattered across the floor—your dress draped over a chair, your shoes lying haphazardly near the door, your bag tucked under the bed. as you gathered your things, you couldn’t help but steal a glance back at namjoon. he was still asleep, his breathing deep and even, one arm stretched out across the bed where you had just been. you paused, taking in the way he looked so at peace, a contrast to the whirlwind of emotions you were feeling.

you dressed quickly, your movements hurried but careful not to make too much noise. the dress, once sleek and form-fitting, now felt slightly wrinkled and askew as you slipped it back on. your fingers fumbled with the zipper, your mind too distracted by the thought of the morning ahead and the fact that you were nowhere near ready for it. just as you reached for your bag, you heard a rustling behind you. you froze, praying he wouldn’t wake up, but when you turned around, there he was—propped up on one elbow, his eyes half-open, still heavy with sleep, but focused on you.

“where are you going?” he asked, his voice rough and low, still laced with the remnants of sleep. the sound of it sent a small thrill through you, even as you tried to calm your racing heart. “i have morning classes,” you replied, your voice quiet, almost apologetic. you weren’t sure why you felt the need to apologize, but something about the situation—the intimacy of the moment, the fact that you were leaving so abruptly—made you feel like you owed him an explanation.

namjoon blinked, his gaze sharpening slightly as he processed your words. he sat up fully, the sheets pooling around his waist as he ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier. “you won’t even let me treat you to breakfast?” he asked, a small, playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. you couldn’t help but smile back, though it was tinged with regret. “maybe another time,” you said, already moving toward the door. “but i really can’t be late for my classes.”

he watched you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he nodded. “i’ll see you around, then,” he said, his tone easy, but there was a note of something else in it, something that made your chest tighten slightly. you paused at the door, your hand on the handle, and turned back to him. “i had a good time,” you said, the words coming out softer than you intended, but they were true. despite everything, despite the way the morning had come too soon, you didn’t regret the night before.

he smiled again, that warm, disarming smile that had drawn you in from the start. “so did i.” with that, you slipped out of the room, the door closing softly behind you. the corridor outside was empty, the muffled thump of music from the club below barely audible through the thick walls. you hurried down the hallway, your mind racing with a million thoughts—what you were going to say if anyone saw you, how you were going to explain the state you were in, and most importantly, how you were going to make it to class on time.

the drive back to your apartment was a blur, your hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly as you sped through the early morning streets. the city was still waking up, the sun just beginning to rise, casting a pale, golden light over everything. you barely noticed, too focused on the task at hand—getting home, getting dressed, and somehow making it to class without looking like you had just rolled out of someone else’s bed. when you finally pulled up to your apartment, you nearly tripped over your own feet in your haste to get inside. the keys fumbled in your hand, slipping once, twice, before you managed to unlock the door and rush inside. your apartment was quiet, the kind of stillness that comes with the early morning hours, and for a brief moment, you let yourself pause, leaning against the door as you caught your breath.

there was no time to waste. you darted into your bedroom, shedding your dress and tossing it onto the bed as you rifled through your closet for your uniform. the blouse was slightly wrinkled, the skirt a little too short for your liking, but there was no time to worry about that now. you yanked the blouse on, your fingers clumsy as they buttoned it up, tucking it into the skirt with a haste that left it slightly uneven, but you didn’t care. you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as you hurried to the bathroom, and winced. your makeup was a mess, the once-perfect red lipstick now faded to a nude smudge, your eyeliner smeared, leaving dark circles beneath your eyes that made you look more like a raccoon than the confident, put-together student you were supposed to be.

there was no time for a full fix, but you did what you could—wiping away the worst of the smudges with a makeup wipe, reapplying a thin layer of a lighter lpstick, and hoping that no one would look too closely. your hair was another matter entirely, tangled and wild from the night before, but a quick brush through had to suffice. with one last look in the mirror—satisfied that you were at least presentable—you grabbed your bag and bolted out the door, your heart pounding in your chest as you rushed to make it to class on time. you didn’t allow yourself to think about namjoon, about the way he had looked at you as you left, or the way his voice had lingered in your mind, soft and warm. there would be time for that later—maybe.

you made it to class just before the bell rang, your breath still a little uneven from the mad dash across campus. the relief that washed over you was short-lived, though, as you barely had time to compose yourself before you felt eyes on you. you caught soobin’s glance from the corner of your eye—he was the kind of friend who could read you like a book, even on your best days, and today was far from your best.

feigning being startled at your sudden appearance, soobin exaggeratedly flinched, his eyes widening in mock surprise before breaking into a smile. “well, well,” he drawled, his tone teasing, “i didn’t think you were gonna make it. i was about to call search and rescue.” you scowled at him, trying to ignore the way his smirk widened. but before you could retort, he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “so, how much is a night?”

his words were laced with humor, but they hit too close to home. you glared at him, a retort already on your lips. “you couldn’t afford it,” you shot back, your tone sharp, but there was no real heat behind it. the truth was too raw, too close to the surface, and you weren’t in the mood to joke about it. as you settled into your seat between soobin and heewon, you could feel the tension beginning to ease—only slightly, though. the classroom was slowly filling up, students chatting idly as they waited for class to begin, but you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach.

heewon, who had been flipping through her notes, glanced up at you and immediately burst into laughter at the sight of your disheveled appearance. “god, you pull off the messy whore look really well,” she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “almost like hyuna.” you rolled your eyes, not in the mood for jokes. “not today, hee,” you muttered, reaching into your bag to pull out a small mirror. you avoided looking at her directly as you adjusted your hair, trying to tame the unruly strands that refused to cooperate.

your reflection was unkind, showing the toll the morning’s rush had taken on you—your blouse was still slightly untucked, your skirt wrinkled from where you’d hastily shoved it on, and your lipstick was more of a faint suggestion than an actual color. heewon didn’t miss a beat, though. “if i didn’t know you,” she continued, her voice light and teasing, “i’d say you actually had that one-night stand you were talking about.”

the words hung in the air, and you froze, your hand stilling mid-motion as you applied another layer of nude lipstick. your blood ran cold as you slowly turned to look at her, your expression a mask of forced nonchalance. but she wasn’t fooled—her eyes widened in realization, shock flooding her features as she stared at you. “no way,” she breathed, a little too loud for comfort. her eyes darted around the room, but most of the other students were too engrossed in their own conversations to notice. she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “with who?”

you slapped her arm lightly, more out of habit than actual reprimand, and opened your mouth to answer. but before you could get a word out, the door to the classroom creaked open. the sudden silence that fell over the room was deafening, everyone’s attention snapping to the front as the principal stepped inside. he was a tall, stern-looking man with graying hair and sharp eyes, the kind of person who commanded respect without having to say much. he cleared his throat, and the last of the murmurs died away as he addressed the class.

“i’m sure most of you are aware by now that mister im has decided to leave us,” the principal began, his voice measured and calm. “but i wanted to personally introduce you all to your new english and philosophy professor.” there was a pause as he turned to the door, gesturing for the man outside to step in. the classroom was so quiet that you could hear the faint rustle of papers, the shifting of feet—everyone waiting with bated breath for the new teacher to make his entrance. and then he stepped in.

the world seemed to slow down as your eyes locked onto the man walking through the door. everything else fell away—the murmurs of the students, the sound of the clock ticking on the wall, even the very breath in your lungs—all of it disappeared as your gaze fixed on him. it was him. the man you had spent the night with, the one whose name you had whispered in the dim light of the private room just hours before. and now, here he was, standing in front of you as your new professor.

namjoon—no, professor kim namjoon—mister kim? whatever he was going to be called from that point on, froze in his tracks, his eyes scanning the room before they landed on you. for a moment, he looked just as shocked as you felt, his gaze narrowing slightly as if trying to make sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. but there was no mistaking it—you were as real as they came, sitting there with wide eyes and a racing heart, just as he was standing there, trying to process the impossibility of the situation.

the principal, oblivious to the tension crackling in the air, turned to namjoon, his voice breaking the silence. “is everything okay?” namjoon blinked, snapping out of whatever thoughts had been running through his mind. he cleared his throat, his expression smoothing into something more composed, though you could see the faint tension in his jaw. “yes, everything’s fine,” he replied, his voice steady, but you could hear the slight edge to it, the barely perceptible waver that only someone who knew him—or had spent the night with him—might notice.

he turned back to the class, his gaze sweeping over the rows of students, but his eyes remained firmly on you as he introduced himself. “i’m professor kim namjoon,” he said, his voice carrying through the room with a quiet authority. “i’ll be your new english and philosophy instructor.” you were stunned into silence, your mind reeling as you tried to process what was happening. the man who had been a nameless stranger just hours before was now your professor, standing there in front of the entire class, his attention seemingly focused on you alone.

there was a brief moment where you thought you might faint, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a lead blanket. but then namjoon’s gaze softened, just slightly, and you saw something there—recognition, yes, but also something else. a flicker of concern, perhaps, or maybe just a shared understanding of the gravity of the situation. and then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the calm, composed demeanor of a professor addressing his class. he began speaking again, introducing the syllabus and his expectations for the course, but you barely heard a word of it. all you could focus on was the fact that your night of recklessness had followed you here, into the one place you had thought was safe, and there was no escaping it now.

as he continued to speak, you forced yourself to sit up straighter, to adopt the same mask of composure he had. but inside, you were anything but calm. your mind was racing, your thoughts tangled in a web of confusion and disbelief. heewon nudged you, her eyes wide as she glanced between you and namjoon, clearly sensing something was off but not daring to ask. soobin, for once, was silent, his usual teasing smirk replaced by a look of genuine concern.

but none of it mattered. not really. because as namjoon’s gaze flickered back to you, just for a moment, you knew that it was far from over. the connection you had felt the night before was still there, humming beneath the surface, and there was no telling where it might lead—or what it might cost you. the bell rang, signaling the start of class, but for you, it felt like the beginning of something else entirely.

namjoon had composed himself almost too well for someone who had just discovered an unexpected connection in his classroom. his voice was steady, professional, as he launched into the introduction of the day's topic—a deep dive into existential philosophy, a subject that would set the tone for the entire semester. his words flowed with an easy confidence, drawing the attention of the entire class, but your mind was a whirlwind, struggling to keep up with the reality of the situation. as he spoke, you found yourself stealing glances at him, trying to reconcile the man who stood before you now with the one you had been so intimately close to just hours ago. every time his eyes drifted toward you, your gaze would dart away, your heart beating too fast, too loud.

just as you were beginning to gather your thoughts, namjoon posed a question to the class, inviting anyone to share what they knew about existentialism. before you could react, heewon’s hand shot up beside you. “oh, (y/n) knows all about that,” she announced, her voice light with an undercurrent of mischief. she shot you a sideways glance, one eyebrow raised as if daring you to deny it.

you turned to face her, your eyes pleading, practically begging her to drop it. but she was never one to back down from a moment like this, especially when she sensed there was more to the story. your warning gaze seemed to only fuel her amusement. namjoon’s eyes flicked from heewon to you, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “is that so?” he asked, his tone carrying a playful edge that only you seemed to notice. “i figured you’d know it. you probably know most of the plan and program.”

his words hung in the air, the double meaning not lost on you. there was an almost imperceptible pause before he continued, his gaze locked onto yours. “why don’t you tell us what you know?” you swallowed hard, your mind racing to find an answer, any answer. but all you could think about was the night before—the way his voice had sounded in your ear, the warmth of his skin against yours. the memories clouded your thoughts, making it impossible to focus on the question he’d asked.

you opened your mouth, but no words came out. the silence stretched on, heavy and awkward, until soobin nudged you gently from the other side. his elbow digging into your ribs jolted you back to reality, and you forced yourself to speak. “sartre believed that existence precedes essence,” you began, your voice quieter than usual, barely above a whisper. “it means that we're born without purpose, and it’s our responsibility to give our lives meaning through our actions.”

namjoon’s smile widened, a look of approval crossing his face. “outstanding,” he said, his tone genuine, almost too warm. he paused for a moment, his gaze softening as he asked, “what’s your name?” the question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were silent again, unable to form a response. it was as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you, the classroom and the other students fading into the background. your mouth opened, but no sound came out, the weight of his gaze rendering you speechless.

another nudge from soobin brought you back to the present. you blinked, realizing that you had to respond. “it’s (y/n) (l/n),” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper. namjoon nodded, a hint of something unreadable in his expression as he repeated your name, letting it linger in the air. “(y/n),” he said softly, almost like he was testing how it felt on his tongue. “thank you for sharing.”

you could feel heewon’s eyes on you, a mixture of curiosity and realization dawning on her face. she wasn’t a fool—she had seen the way you had reacted, the way namjoon had looked at you, and it didn’t take long for her to start putting the pieces together. but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about what she thought, not when all you could focus on was him. he continued with the lecture, but you hardly heard a word of it. every time he turned back to the class, your gaze would drop to your desk, your heart thudding in your chest. the tension in the room was palpable, and you could tell that soobin and heewon were both aware of it, even if they didn’t fully understand why.

after what felt like an eternity, namjoon began handing out sheets of paper, instructing the class to spend the next fifteen minutes writing an essay on the topic he had introduced. you barely registered the words, your mind still caught up in the swirl of emotions from earlier. when he reached your desk, he paused, his movements slower, more deliberate. as he set the paper down in front of you, his hand brushed against your fingers, the contact brief but electric. you looked up at him, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. his eyes locked onto yours, and you saw something in them—a flicker of desire, maybe, or perhaps just a shared acknowledgment of the impossible situation you both found yourselves in.

he took his bottom lip between his teeth, a small, almost imperceptible gesture that sent a shiver down your spine. the air between you crackled with tension, so thick that you could almost taste it. namjoon didn’t miss the look in your eyes, nor did he miss the way your thighs clenched together involuntarily at the sight of him. his gaze dropped for just a second before he looked back at you, his expression unreadable but intense.

heewon and soobin exchanged a worried look, sensing that something was off but unsure of what to make of it. but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. all that mattered was the man standing in front of you, the man who had somehow become both a stranger and something more in the span of just one night. namjoon lingered for a moment longer before moving on to the next student, but the heat of his touch stayed with you, lingering on your skin long after he had stepped away. you stared down at the blank sheet of paper in front of you, your mind a chaotic mess of thoughts and emotions, wondering how you were supposed to focus on anything else when the only thing you could think about was him.

you stared at the blank sheet of paper for what felt like forever, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic mess. the memory of Namjoon’s touch lingered on your skin, his presence looming over you despite him moving on to the next student. every word you tried to write felt forced, disjointed, as if your mind was too occupied with the events of the night before to form a coherent sentence. but you pushed through, forcing yourself to focus, to string together an essay that would meet namjoon’s expectations—or at least not embarrass yourself in front of him. you could feel his eyes on you occasionally as he walked around the room, checking on the other students, and every time, it made your heart race and your fingers tremble.

finally, you managed to write something—an essay that was far from your best work, but at least it was done. the bell rang, its sharp sound jolting you out of your thoughts. you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, relief washing over you as namjoon dismissed the class with a curt nod. the scraping of chairs and the shuffling of feet filled the room as everyone stood up and turned in their papers. you gathered your things slowly, hoping to blend in with the crowd, to escape without another encounter with him. as you moved toward the front to turn in your essay, soobin and heewon caught your attention.

“we’ll wait outside for you,” soobin said, a smirk playing on his lips as if he knew something you didn’t. your eyes pleaded with him, silently begging him not to leave you alone in this classroom. but it was too late; they were already heading out the door, leaving you and namjoon as the last ones in the room. you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, but you kept your eyes down, refusing to meet it. you set your paper on his desk, trying to make a quick exit.

but just as you reached the door, his voice stopped you. “i didn’t know you went to college here.” you froze, every muscle in your body tensing at his words. you slowly turned around, forcing yourself to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. “i didn’t know you worked here,” you replied, your voice barely steady.

the silence that followed was thick with tension, the air heavy with everything that was left unsaid. you could see the conflict in his eyes, the same uncertainty that mirrored your own. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the situation pressing down on you both. then he cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the silence like a knife. his gaze hardened, the warmth from earlier replaced with something colder, more distant. “please only refer to me as your professor from now on,” he said, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

the words hit you like a punch to the gut, the finality of them sinking in. it felt like your heart was physically breaking, the pain sharp and immediate. you opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out, the lump in your throat making it impossible to speak. he paused, his eyes flickering with something unreadable before he continued. “pretend like anything we had didn’t happen, for our sake.”

you nodded, the motion stiff and mechanical, even as the nausea churned in your stomach. it felt like the ground was slipping out from under you, like you were free-falling and there was nothing to catch you. but you forced a small, tight-lipped smile, doing your best to hide the turmoil inside. “see you next period, professor kim,” you managed to say, your voice trembling slightly. without waiting for a response, you turned and walked out of the room, your legs feeling like they were made of lead. every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of his words pressing down on you. as you pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway, the noise and bustle of the other students barely registered.

all you could think about was the way he had looked at you, the coldness in his eyes, and the realization that whatever connection you had felt the night before was now nothing but a distant memory. you could still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the memory of his voice in your ear, but it all felt so far away now, like a dream that had ended too soon. heewon and soobin were waiting for you just outside the classroom, their expressions shifting from playful to concerned the moment they saw you. heewon opened her mouth to say something, but you shook your head, silently begging her not to ask. you couldn’t talk about it, not now—not when everything felt so raw, so real.

the day felt like a blur as you made your way through the bustling hallways, trying to shake off the weight of the morning’s events. you met up with soobin and heewon during your free period, desperate for some semblance of normalcy. the café in the student center was a welcome escape, its warm lighting and soft chatter offering a brief respite from the chaos in your mind. you slid into a booth with them, the leather seats creaking under the weight of your exhaustion. you barely registered the vibrant colors and bustling activity around you, too preoccupied with the events of the morning.

“so,” soobin said, leaning in with an inquisitive look. “what the hell happened between you and professor kim?” you took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. with a heavy sigh, you began recounting the events of the previous night—everything from the club, the fleeting connection with namjoon, to the morning’s abrupt encounter in class. your friends listened in stunned silence, their eyes widening with each detail.

when you finished, soobin’s jaw dropped, his eyes darting between you and heewon. “i didn’t expect that,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. heewon, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with excitement. “you’re kidding me,” she said, her eyes shining with admiration. “he’s like, the hottest professor ever. you did good, really good.”

you managed a weak smile at her enthusiasm, feeling a twinge of warmth despite the tumult inside. as you looked around, your gaze fell upon namjoon again, this time surrounded by a swarm of female students. they clustered around him, offering water and engaging in casual conversation. his earlier gaze had been replaced by a smile that was charming but distant, his attention firmly on his admirers. “guess you aren’t his only fan,” soobin remarked dryly, his tone carrying a hint of amusement.

you turned back to your friends, trying to mask the tightness in your chest. “i don’t care,” you said, your voice carrying a trace of frustration. “i’m not allowed to care.” heewon placed a reassuring hand on your arm, her eyes softening with sympathy. “look on the bright side,” she said gently. “you got over your ex, if anything. and maybe, in some weird way, this is a chance to start fresh.”

her words were meant to be comforting, but they only served to remind you of the painful truth. the breakup with your ex had left you vulnerable and searching for validation, and namjoon’s presence had complicated everything in ways you hadn’t anticipated. but you nodded, appreciating her attempt to offer perspective. you managed a grateful smile, the gesture feeling heavy but sincere. as you sipped your coffee, the bitter taste seemed to mirror the complexity of your emotions. the conversation drifted, and you tried to focus on the mundane topics your friends brought up, but your thoughts kept returning to namjoon.

the next day unfolded with a disorienting sense of déjà vu, as if you were trapped in a cycle you couldn’t escape. the english period began with a heaviness in your chest, a reminder of the previous day’s awkward encounter with namjoon. his presence was now a constant, uncomfortable weight, and you braced yourself for another session of tense interactions. he entered the classroom, his authoritative stride commanding immediate attention. he took his place at the front, his gaze scanning the room with a sharpness that made your skin prickle. the air seemed charged with unspoken tension as he began his lesson, his voice smooth but carrying an edge.

throughout the class, it became increasingly clear that namjoon was deliberately targeting you. his questions were relentless, designed to probe and unsettle. his piercing eyes would lock onto you as he asked complex questions about the texts you’d studied. “so,” he said, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of challenge, “can you tell me how socrates’ concept of virtue contrasts with plato’s theory of forms?” you stumbled over your answer, your mind racing to piece together a coherent response. “um, socrates—he believed that virtue was a form of knowledge, right? and plato, well, he thought virtue was tied to the ideal forms?”

namjoon clicked his tongue disapprovingly, the sound echoing through the classroom. “not quite. socrates did indeed view virtue as a form of knowledge, but plato’s theory of forms goes beyond that, focusing on the ideal forms as the true reality of virtue.” the click of his tongue felt like a stinging reprimand, and you could feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment. from behind, soobin offered a comforting wink, his eyes twinkling with mischief. you smiled back, grateful for his support, even if you didn’t fully understand his intentions.

as namjoon moved through the rows, he handed back the essays with a stoic expression. when he reached your table, he paused, his eyes scanning your paper. “you can do better,” he said, despite the high mark you’d received. his voice was flat, dismissive, and it stung more than the failing grade could have.

soobin leaned over as his eyes raked over the positive mark on your paper, a smirk playing on his lips. he whispered, “congratulations,” before wrapping his arms around your neck in a gesture that surprised you. he pressed a light kiss to your cheek, the touch warm and reassuring. “well done,” he added, his voice low and almost conspiratorial. you leaned into his embrace, finding solace in the brief moment of affection. it was partly for show, a subtle defiance in the face of namjoon’s scrutiny, but it felt genuine enough to offer a small comfort. as he pulled away, you couldn’t help but notice namjoon’s eyes flicking toward you, his expression unreadable but his demeanor tense.

the moment was shattered when soobin dropped his pencil, its clatter startlingly loud in the quiet classroom. he turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes and said, “could you get that for me?” you nodded, bending over to retrieve the pencil. the motion was unavoidably revealing, your short skirt riding up just enough to provide a provocative view. you could feel namjoon’s gaze on you, intense and almost overwhelming. as you picked up the pencil, you glanced up to see soobin’s eyes fixed on you, his gaze deliberate and knowing.

you handed the pencil back to him, who responded with a smirk, “thank you, sweetheart.” namjoon’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he watched the interaction. his knuckles whitened around the stack of papers in his hand, the sheets crumpling under the pressure of his grip. the sight of soobin’s gaze on you seemed to inflame his irritation, and he struggled to maintain his composure. the tension broke when he suddenly snapped, “pop quiz.”

the sharpness of his command cut through the room, drawing startled gasps from the students. you looked back to see soobin’s smirk widening, a silent acknowledgment of the provocation. you couldn’t help but return his smirk, feeling a mix of amusement and defiance. as he began distributing the quiz papers, the atmosphere in the room shifted. the playful energy between you and soobin contrasted sharply with namjoon’s stern demeanor.

the bell's chime reverberated through the classroom, signaling the end of the period. as students shuffled to their feet, handing in their quizzes with murmurs of relief, you lingered behind, finalizing your answers and tapping the pencil against the paper. you were the last to submit your quiz once again, and as you made your way to the front, you glanced at the clock, calculating how much time you had before your next class.

with your quiz in hand, you approached namjoon's desk, determined to leave the room as quickly as possible. however, as you turned to head for the door, namjoon's voice stopped you in your tracks. “come here,” he commanded, his tone firm yet laden with an undercurrent of something else. your stomach tightened at the sound of his voice. “is everything okay, professor kim?” you asked, your voice steady despite the flutter of anxiety in your chest.

namjoon's posture stiffened, a subtle shift in his demeanor that you noticed immediately. he adjusted himself in his chair, spreading his legs slightly. as you met his gaze, your eyes flickered momentarily to the front of his pants. specifically, the painfully visible tent in his pants that had been rightfully covered by his desk. now, you were able to get a clear view of it and, fuck, was it obvious. the sight was unsettling, a realization that you forced yourself to ignore.

he leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race. “did you enjoy the show you put on today?” he asked, his voice low and carrying an edge of challenge. you struggled to maintain composure. “i have no idea what you're talking about,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady and focused. your gaze danced around the room, avoiding the direction of his gaze.

his expression hardened slightly. without breaking eye contact, he reached for a stapler on his desk and tossed it lightly in front of you. “pick it up for me,” he instructed, his tone carrying a hushed command. you swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his command. his voice seemed to reverberate through you, causing an involuntary clenching in your thighs. you turned around and bent over to retrieve the stapler, your skirt rising above your hips with the motion. the fabric brushed against your legs as you reached for the stapler, the movement eliciting a sharp intake of breath from namjoon.

as you stood up and placed the stapler back on his desk, you tried to keep your gaze forward. namjoon’s eyes followed you, and you could sense the tension in the air thickening. “come here,” he murmured again, his voice softer but still carrying the same underlying authority. you hesitated, fighting the urge to defy him. but the knowledge that resistance was futile made you comply. you approached him, feeling his gaze on you as you moved closer. when you were within arm’s reach, he reached out and drew you gently into his lap, his grip firm yet careful.

you could feel it, the clothed tent in his pants pressing into the bare flesh of your thigh, it sent goosebumps all arouns your skin. his lips brushed against the side of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “are you happy knowing that the boys are getting off to this ass of yours?” he asked, his voice a dark purr against your skin. you tried to muster a response, a smirk curling on your lips as you said, “yeah, the boys are real nice to me.” the words felt hollow, a weak attempt to mask your discomfort.

namjoon chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your neck. his hand pressed against you, and you could feel the firmness of his body beneath you. “you don’t need them,” he said, his voice dropping to a deeper, more possessive tone. “you need a man.” your breath caught in your throat, the situation spiraling beyond your control.

his hand slid up to cup your breast, squeezing it gently through your shirt. the fabric was thin, offering no real barrier to his touch. your nipples tightened, and you gasped. “is this what you want?” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the peak. “to be manhandled by some immature college boys?” his other hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling your face towards his. his lips captured yours in a bruising kiss, one that was as much about power as it was passion. your body responded instinctively, arching into him. his tongue pushed into your mouth, and you could taste the mint from his gum, a stark contrast to the earthy scent of his cologne.

his hand moved from your neck to the hem of your shirt, sliding it up to expose your bare skin. his teeth grazed your bottom lip before he pulled away, leaving you panting. “now, let’s see how wet you get when you’re being punished by your professor,” he said, his eyes gleaming with a dark amusement. before you could protest, his hand slid down to cup your sex through your panties, his fingers moving in slow circles. his touch was deliberate, almost cruel in its precision. the fabric of your panties was drenched, and you could feel the heat of your arousal spreading. “you’re so fucking dirty,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “gonna pay for teasing me like that.”

his hand withdrew, and before you could react, his palm connected with your ass in a sharp spank. the sting of pain shot through you, but instead of anger, you felt a pulse of desire. the room around you spun, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. “is that what you wanted?” he asked, his voice mocking. “to be used like this?”

you didn’t answer, but your silence was answer enough. namjoon chuckled again, his hand moving to your other cheek. this time, the spank was harder, and the sound echoed through the empty classroom. you gasped, your legs trembling, but your pussy clenched around his fingers. “yes, professor,” you murmured, the words slipping out despite your attempt to remain defiant.

his hand slid into your panties, his fingers pushing inside you without preamble. you were so wet, so ready, and his touch sent waves of pleasure through your body. his thumb circled your clit, and you moaned, unable to hold back. “that’s it,” he whispered, his voice low and encouraging. “tell me how much you like it when i spank you, and maybe i’ll let you cum on my dick.”

his other hand moved to the zipper of his pants, freeing his thick, hard cock. it sprang out, and you couldn’t help but stare at it, the size of it both terrifying and exhilarating. “you want this, don’t you?” he asked, his voice a gruff challenge. “you wanna be fucked by your professor, right here, where everyone can see?”

you nodded, unable to speak, your body betraying your every thought. namjoon leaned back in his chair, pulling you onto his desk. the cold wood was a shock against your skin, but the heat of his body washed over you as he stepped closer. his pants fell to the floor, and he positioned himself between your legs. “beg for it,” he demanded, his eyes boring into yours. your voice was shaky as you whispered, “please, professor kim, fuck me.” the words were barely out of your mouth when he pushed into you, filling you completely. the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that made your vision swim. his hips began to move, a steady, punishing rhythm that had you gripping the edge of the desk for dear life.

each thrust was accompanied by a smack on your ass, the sting mixing with the ache in your pussy. “you’re mine,” he growled, his voice harsh with need. “no one else gets to see you like this, no one else gets to touch you like this.” his words were a blend of assertion and question, and you nodded, your eyes glazed with lust. your silence happened to be a grave mistake, and you realized it the minute he delivered another harsh slap to your ass.

“use your fucking words,” he snarled in your ear, hips pressed against your flesh. you could only whimper, his balls pressed against your soaking slit. but he didn't move, he was gonna make you work for it. “what happens to bad girls?” you gritted your teeth and forced out a whisper, “they get punished, professor kim.”

his hand squeezed your ass hard before delivering another spank, the sting turning into a warm buzz that spread through your body. he chuckled darkly, pleased with your response. “that’s right,” he said, his voice gruff and animalistic. “and what happens when bad girls get punished?” you took a deep breath, trying to keep the tremble from your voice. “they get fucked, professor kim.”

that was all the encouragement he needed. namjoon’s cock slammed into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin punctuating the silence of the classroom. he fucked you hard and fast, his hips pistoning against you with a ferocity that was both terrifying and exhilarating. your legs were shaking, and your knuckles were white from gripping the edge of the desk, but you didn’t care. you were lost in the feeling of him inside you, claiming you in a way that no one else ever had.

his hand moved from your ass to your neck, his fingers wrapping around it in a grip that was tight but not painful. he squeezed slightly, the pressure sending a jolt of arousal through you. his eyes bore into yours, and you could see the hunger in them, the need to dominate and control. “you’re mine, aren’t you?” he said, his voice a low growl.

you nodded, unable to form words. your breath was coming in ragged gasps, and your pussy was clenching around his cock, begging for release. another spank, another squeeze of your neck, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge of climax. “say it,” he demanded, his voice harsh. “say you’re mine, and i’ll let you cum.”

“i’m yours, professor kim,” you choked out, the words a desperate plea.

his grip tightened, and he slammed into you one last time, his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. you screamed as you came, your body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. namjoon’s eyes never left yours, his expression a mix of triumph and possessiveness. he waited, letting you ride out the waves of pleasure before he began to move again, his thrusts growing faster and more erratic. you could feel his release building, his cock swelling inside you. he was close, and the thought of him filling you up with his cum made your pussy clench even tighter. “fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunted, his voice strained. “i’m gonna fill you up, fuck. i’m gonna mark you as mine.”

you could feel your own orgasm building again, a second wave crashing into you as his words sent a fresh surge of arousal through your body. he leaned over, his teeth scraping along your neck as he reached down to pinch your clit. the combination of pain and pleasure was too much, and you came again, your body shaking violently. he grunted, his hips jerking as he released deep inside you. he held you there, his cock buried to the hilt, his grip on your neck unyielding. “you’re mine now,” he murmured, his voice a mix of satisfaction and possession. “no one else will ever make you feel like this again.”

you couldn’t argue with him, not when his cum was still pulsing inside you, not when his scent was all over your body. you were his, and as much as you hated to admit it, the thought thrilled you. his hand moved from your neck to your hair, his grip gentle as he pulled you closer, kissing you deeply. his tongue invaded your mouth, tasting the remnants of your orgasm, and you kissed him back with a passion that matched his own.

the room was spinning, and your heart was racing, but all you could think about was how much you wanted this to never end. how much you wanted to be claimed by him, over and over again. finally, he pulled away, his cock slipping out of you with a wet sound that seemed to echo through the room. he tucked himself back into his pants, his expression unreadable. “now, get out of here before someone sees you like this,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper.

you nodded, your legs unsteady as you slid off the desk. your panties were a ruined mess, so you left them where they lay. your skirt was hiked up around your waist, and your shirt was askew, but you didn’t bother to fix it. you could feel his cum dripping down your thighs, a sticky reminder of what had just happened. you stumbled out of the classroom, the door clicking shut behind you. the hallway was empty, the only sound the echo of your heels against the tiles. your mind was racing, trying to process the intensity of what had just occurred. you hadn’t meant for it to go that far, but the power dynamics had overtaken you both.

as you made your way to the bathroom, you couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes on you, his hand on your neck, his cock inside you. your body was still singing with the aftershocks of pleasure, and the sting of his spanks lingered, a sweet reminder of his dominance. once inside the stall, you leaned against the cool metal, trying to catch your breath. your pussy was sore, but the ache was a delicious one, a reminder of his brutal possession. you cleaned up as best as you could, trying to erase the evidence of your transgression. when you stepped out, you took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

you checked the mirror, fixing your makeup and smoothing your hair. your eyes were wild, your cheeks flushed. you really looked like you’d just been fucked by your professor, and that thought alone sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. you left the bathroom, heading to your next class, your mind racing with thoughts of namjoon. what had just happened between you? was it a one-time thing, or was this the start of something darker, something more intense? you couldn’t stop thinking about him, his voice, his touch, his cock. the way he’d claimed you, the way you’d begged for it. it was wrong, so wrong, but you craved it.

the rest of the day was a blur, your thoughts consumed by the illicit encounter. when you saw him in the hallways, his eyes would briefly meet yours, a smoldering heat passing between you that no one else could see. the tension was palpable, a silent promise of more to come. by the time you reached the evening, you were on edge, desperate for a release that only he could provide. you knew you had to see him again, to find out where this was going, to let him take you apart and put you back together in whatever twisted way he saw fit.

the next day, namjoon was crueler than ever. the moment you walked into the classroom, you felt the shift in his demeanor, an icy coldness that sent a shiver down your spine. his eyes seemed to follow your every move, sharp and unforgiving, as if waiting for you to slip up.

“miss (l/n),” he drawled, barely five minutes into the lecture, “do you even know what the word ‘competence’ means? because, frankly, i’m starting to doubt it.” his words were laced with venom, each syllable landing like a physical blow. you felt your heart sink, the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck as all eyes turned to you. your mouth opened to respond, but the words caught in your throat, your voice betraying you in the moment you needed it most.

“answer me,” he demanded, his tone brooking no argument. “i do,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, but it was clear that your confidence had shattered.

he scoffed, a cold, mocking sound that made you flinch. “then perhaps you should start showing it. this is a university, not a daycare. i expect more from my students.” the classroom was silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. you could feel the stares of your classmates, could hear the unspoken judgment in the air, and it made your stomach churn. namjoon’s relentless criticism continued throughout the class, his every word designed to tear you down, to make you feel small and insignificant.

“is that really the best you can do?” he sneered at one point, after you had answered another one of his questions with trembling uncertainty. his eyes narrowed, and you could see the disdain written all over his face. “how disappointing.” your patience was wearing thin, the fragile hold you had on your emotions slipping with each cruel remark. you wanted to scream, to tell him to stop, to ask him why he was being so unbearably harsh. but you couldn’t. the words refused to come, lodged in your throat like a stone.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, the class drew to a close. as soon as namjoon dismissed everyone, you gathered your things and bolted from the room, your vision blurred with unshed tears. you could hear the murmur of voices behind you, the curious whispers of your classmates, but you didn’t care. all you wanted was to get away. you didn’t stop until you reached the empty locker room, the door slamming shut behind you with a deafening echo. the second you were alone, the tears you had been holding back spilled over, your body shaking with the force of your sobs.

“how could he be so bipolar?” you choked out between gasping breaths, your voice thick with hurt and confusion. it was as if he had two completely different personalities, one moment kind and almost gentle, the next vicious and unrelenting. it was too much. the sound of approaching footsteps cut through your thoughts, startling you. you quickly wiped at your eyes, trying in vain to compose yourself, but it was too late. the door creaked open, and soobin stepped inside, his expression filled with concern as he saw you huddled on the floor.

“(y/n)?” he called softly, his voice laced with worry. without waiting for an answer, he hurried over to you, crouching down by your side. “what happened? why are you crying?” you tried to speak, but all that came out was a broken sob. soobin’s face softened, and he reached out to pull you into his arms, his embrace warm and comforting.

“it’s okay,” he murmured, his hand gently rubbing your back in soothing circles. “it’s gonna be okay. just breathe.” for a moment, you let yourself melt into his embrace, the warmth of his arms and the softness of his voice soothing your frazzled nerves. but eventually, you pulled back enough to look up at him, your eyes red and puffy from crying.

“it’s namjoon, you saw it,” you finally managed to say, your voice trembling. “he’s just, he’s being so awful, and i don’t understand why.” soobin’s expression darkened at the mention of namjoon, his jaw clenching slightly, but he quickly masked it with a soft, reassuring smile. “he’s being an ass,” he agreed, his voice firm with conviction. “you don’t deserve that, you need to stop running to him.”

his words struck a chord deep within you, and you nodded, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. “you’re right,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “but i don’t know how to stop.” his gaze softened, and he reached up to gently brush a strand of hair out of your face, his touch tender. “you’ll figure it out,” he said quietly, his tone full of quiet confidence. “and until you do, i’ll be here for you.”

a small, shaky smile tugged at the corners of your lips, the warmth of his words seeping into the cracks that namjoon’s cruelty had left behind. “thank you, soo,” you whispered, your voice thick with gratitude. for a moment, the two of you just sat there, lost in each other’s eyes. then, before you could fully process what was happening, he leaned in and pressed a soft, tentative kiss to your lips.

it was so quick, so unexpected, that you barely had time to react before he was pulling back, his eyes wide with panic. “i’m so sorry,” he stammered, his voice filled with regret. “i didn’t mean to—” but you didn’t let him finish. you reached up, cupping his face in your hands, and kissed him back. this time, it was slower, deeper, a silent reassurance that he hadn’t made a mistake. when you finally pulled away, you could see the relief in soobin’s eyes, and it made your heart swell with affection. “you didn’t make a mistake,” you whispered, your voice still shaky but filled with sincerity.

soobin searched your eyes for a moment, looking for confirmation, before his arms tightened around you. the kiss grew more urgent, his tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting of mint and something uniquely him. your hands roamed over his back, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt, and you moaned softly, the heat between you growing with every passing second. the locker room was suddenly too small, too confining, and you needed more.

without breaking the kiss, you reached down and began to unbutton his shirt, feeling the smooth fabric give way beneath your trembling fingers. his hands mirrored yours, his fingertips brushing against the bare skin of your stomach, sending shivers down your spine. as his shirt fell open, you gasped, taking in the sight of his broad chest, the tattoos that danced across his skin like secrets waiting to be uncovered. you ran your fingers over the ink, tracing the lines as you explored him, and he groaned, his hands finding their way to the hem of your shirt.

you pulled back just long enough to let him lift it over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought. your bra followed shortly after, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of your exposed breasts. without a word, he leaned down and captured one in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak as you arched your back, a gasp escaping your lips. the pleasure was intense, a stark contrast to the pain namjoon’s words had brought you just moments ago. soobin’s touch was gentle, reverent, a stark reminder of the way you deserved to be treated.

his hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your nipples as he sucked and bit at them, making you whimper. you could feel yourself growing wetter, the ache between your legs becoming almost unbearable. he must have noticed too, because his hand began to drift lower, slipping under your little skirt and finding your panties already drenched for him. you moaned into his mouth, your legs parting slightly to give him better access.

his fingers slid over the fabric, teasing you, making you squirm with need. then, with a wicked grin, he pulled them aside and plunged two fingers into you, making you gasp. his strokes were slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched your reactions, learning what made you moan, what made your eyes roll back in pleasure. you clung to him, your nails digging into his back as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

his other hand reached up to cradle your face, his thumb wiping away the tears that had dried on your cheeks. “you’re so beautiful, (y/n),” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent waves of pleasure through your body. “so perfect, so responsive. i want to make you feel good, really good.” and with that, he kissed you again, his tongue delving deep as his fingers picked up the pace, filling you up and stroking that spot inside you that no one else seemed to know existed.

you could feel yourself getting closer, your breath hitching in your chest, your body tightening around his fingers. “soobin,” you moaned, his name a desperate plea on your lips. “yes, baby, come for me,” he whispered, his voice full of desire, and with that, you shattered. your orgasm hit you like a wave, leaving you trembling and gasping for air, your legs giving out beneath you. he caught you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he held you up, his kisses turning gentle and soothing.

as you came down from the high, you became aware of the sound of the locker room door opening and closing, the muffled sounds of someone walking down the hall. soobin’s eyes widened in panic, his hand still buried in your panties, his fingers coated in your arousal. “shit, we can’t get caught,” he hissed, pulling away and hastily buttoning his shirt. you nodded, fumbling to put yourself back together, your heart racing.

you looked around, your eyes landing on a shower stall in the corner, and an idea formed in your mind. “quick, in there,” you urged, pushing him towards it. he looked confused for a moment before understanding dawned, and he grinned, pulling you in after him. the sound of the shower turning on masked the sound of your breathing as you kissed him again, more urgently this time. his hand found its way back to your panties, his touch no longer gentle but demanding, and you could feel his cock, hard and insistent, pressing against your thigh. you reached down to stroke him through his pants, feeling the length and thickness of him, making you even more eager. he groaned into your mouth, his hips bucking against your hand.

his own need was clear, and you knew what you had to do. you sank to your knees, pulling his pants down to reveal his erection, standing proud and thick. without hesitation, you took him into your mouth, your eyes never leaving his as you began to suck. his moans grew louder, his hands tangling in your hair as you worked him with your mouth, eager to bring him the same pleasure he had given you. his taste was new, but familiar in a way that made your stomach flip. you could feel his cock swell even more, and you knew he was close. his grip on your hair tightened, his hips thrusting gently, and you took it as a sign to speed up, to swallow him down deeper. and just as the footsteps grew closer, he came, his release hot and salty on your tongue.

you swallowed, licking him clean as you stood up, your own arousal pulsing between your legs. he pulled you close again, kissing you deeply, his hands roaming over your body. “i want you, (y/n),” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “i want all of you, right here, right now.” and before you could respond, he was lifting you up, setting you on the bench and peeling your panties off, leaving you bare and exposed.

his cock was still hard, and he positioned himself at your entrance, his tip nudging against your wetness. you could feel the size of him, the way he stretched you open even though he hadn't even slid in yet. you desperately tried not to think about namjoon, to focus on the comfort soobin was offering as a friend. his eyes searched yours for consent, and with a nod, you gave it. he pushed in, slow and gentle, filling you completely. you moaned out his name, the sound echoing off the tiles. it was unlike anything you had ever felt before, his girth stretching you in a way that was both painful and exquisite. he didn't stop, though, continuing to move at a pace that was just right, building the tension until you felt like you might come apart at the seams.

his hands cupped your breasts, squeezing and kneading as he thrust into you, his eyes never leaving yours. you could see the passion in them, the way he was losing himself in the moment, and it made you feel alive, wanted. “you're so wet,” he grunted, his voice strained with effort. “so perfect.”

his words were like a balm to your soul, the praise you had been craving, the gentle touch you hadn't realized you needed. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him to go deeper. “yes,” you murmured, your voice a whisper. “yes, fuck, soo.” his rhythm grew more erratic, his breathing ragged, and you knew he was close. your own orgasm was building, the pressure inside you threatening to burst. “you're gonna cum for me,” he panted, his voice low and commanding. “gonna cum so hard.”

his words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing around him as you screamed out his name. he followed shortly after, his release hot and powerful, filling you up without any barrier. the feeling was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and fear that only added to the intensity of the moment.

as you both came down from the high, panting and trying to catch your breath, you realized what you had done. the comfort sex had turned into something much more intimate, something that would change everything between you. but for now, you pushed those thoughts aside, basking in the warmth of his embrace as the water from the shower washed away the evidence of your shared secret.

his forehead rested against yours, his eyes filled with a tenderness that was new to you. “are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle. you nodded, your chest heaving with each breath. “yes,” you whispered, feeling a strange mix of emotions. “i'm okay.”

you didn't know how to explain that it was more than just the physical release that had made you feel better. it was the connection, the understanding, the gentle way he had taken care of you when you felt so broken. you knew that this moment would be something you would cherish, something that would sustain you through the storm that was namjoon's cruelty.

but you also knew that you couldn't keep running to soobin every time namjoon hurt you. you had to find a way to stand on your own two feet, to face the demons that were holding you hostage. but for now, in the warmth of the shower, with soobin's arms around you, you allowed yourself to just be. to feel alive and desired, if only for a little while longer.

you could feel the pulse of his cock still inside you, a strangled moan passing your lips as you felt him grow hard inside your pussy, your eyes rolling back at the feeling of him, so lewd and filthy for your cunt, a smirk playing on his face as he began to tilt his hips upward, the overwhelming sensation bringing tears to his eyes. “you really gonna fuck me again?” you practically purred, nails scratching at his chest as his pace began to quicken.

“i have to, you're still dripping for me,” he almost whined, the feeling of your juices drenching his dick just too intense. you pulled him in closer, saving the second blissful sensation of him pulling your cunt apart as he continued to pump his dick into you. you were both unaware of just how loud you were being, as much as you were of the nearby presence, who had been listening to every word with a look of utter anger on his face.

namjoon had been on his way to grab something from his office when he heard the locker room door slam, and the sound of your sobs had drawn him in. he had been torn between leaving and walking in, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him. and now, as he heard the sound of soobin's body slapping against yours, as he heard the two of you gasp and moan, his anger grew. he felt like he had been stabbed in the back, the betrayal a cold, sharp pain in his chest.

his hand was clenched into a fist, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from storming in and tearing the two of you apart. instead, he leaned against the wall, listening as soobin whispered sweet nothings into your ear, as he praised your body and made you feel good about yourself. the irony of the situation was not lost on him; the one person who had been so cruel to you was now being the one to console you in the most intimate way possible.

his mind raced with thoughts of what he should do, but in the end, he decided to stay put. he would let this play out, let soobin have his moment of victory, and then he would deal with it. but for now, he had to listen to the sound of your pleasure, the sound of what he had wanted to be his, being given to someone else. and it made his blood boil.

the following day, tension hung heavy in the air, a storm brewing in namjoon's chest as he awaited your arrival. the echoes of what he overheard between you and soobin replayed in his mind, each word twisting the knife of jealousy deeper into his heart. the anger was sharp, intense, and the moment you stepped into the classroom, he felt his blood begin to boil.

you entered the room with a sense of calm, your steps measured and your expression serene. it was a visible contrast to the way namjoon’s heart raced and his jaw clenched in a desperate attempt to maintain his composure. as the lesson began, he made it his personal mission to nail you into the ground with questions, to strip away that calm exterior and expose whatever emotions lay beneath. “miss (y/n),” he began, his voice cutting through the classroom like a blade, “perhaps you can explain the concept of friedrich nietzsche's ‘übermensch’ to the class?”

the question was pointed, meant to trip you up, to make you falter. but to his astonishment, you didn’t miss a beat.

“the ‘übermensch’ is a concept in nietzsche’s philosophy that refers to someone who has transcended the limitations of conventional morality and societal norms to create and live by their own values,” you replied, your voice steady, almost indifferent. “it’s a cornerstone of his idea of life-affirmation, where one embraces their existence fully and creates meaning in a world that might otherwise seem meaningless.”

namjoon’s eyes narrowed, but he wasn’t done yet. “and what about the eternal recurrence? how does that concept tie into the idea of the ‘übermensch’?”

“the eternal recurrence is the idea that life, in all its events, could potentially repeat itself infinitely,” you answered, still without hesitation. “for nietzsche, the ‘übermensch’ is someone who could embrace this concept, who would live their life in such a way that they’d be willing to relive it over and over again. it’s about living with such purpose and strength that one would welcome even the most painful experiences.” namjoon’s jaw tightened, a muscle in his cheek ticking as he fired question after question at you, trying to find a chink in your armor. but you got all of them right, each answer delivered with precision and clarity. and what made his blood boil even more was that you never once glanced at him. not even for a second.

it was as if he didn’t exist to you, and that realization twisted his gut into knots. the way you didn’t acknowledge his presence felt like a slap in the face. he could feel his anger simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over. but what pushed him closer to the edge was the way you looked at soobin. he noticed it—the way your eyes softened when you glanced at him, the way your lips curved into a genuine smile when you laughed at something he said. the sight made something inside namjoon snap. he could feel the pencil in his hand crack under the pressure of his grip, the wood splintering, but you didn’t even notice.

as the bell rang, signaling the end of class, namjoon watched you closely. everyone else filtered out of the room, but you lingered, packing your things with that same maddening calm. when the last student left, his resolve crumbled. “(y/n),” he called out softly, his voice a mere whisper of the authority it usually held. you paused, glancing up from your bag. “yes, professor kim?”

there was a sting in the formality of your response, a distance that hadn’t been there before. it made his heart constrict painfully. he swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. “please, stop calling me that,” he said, his voice betraying a hint of desperation. you tilted your head slightly, the smallest hint of confusion crossing your features. “but that’s what you asked me to call you,” you replied, your tone even, devoid of the warmth he had once taken for granted.

he felt the sting of his own words being thrown back at him. it was true; he had been the one to demand that distance, to keep you at arm’s length. and now he was paying the price. as you turned to leave, something in him snapped. “i’m sorry,” he blurted out, the words spilling from his lips before he could stop them. you froze, your hand stilling on the strap of your bag. slowly, you turned back to face him. “sorry for what?”

“for everything,” he said, his voice thick with regret. he hesitated, the weight of his confession pressing down on him, but he knew he had to say it. “i fell for you the minute i saw you, you know? you looked so out of place in the club, and it drew me to you. but when i realized you were my student, it pissed me off. it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” your gaze softened, the hard edges of your expression melting away as you looked at him. “how do you think i felt?” you asked, your voice gentle, understanding.

namjoon sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “i know i’ve been an asshole, (y/n),” he admitted, his voice rough with self-loathing. “but i can’t keep playing this game. it’s tearing me apart.”

you didn’t respond immediately, the silence between you stretching out, heavy with unspoken words. you turned to leave once more, but before you could take another step, namjoon moved. he closed the distance between you in an instant, his arms wrapping around you from behind, pulling you against his chest. “please, don’t go,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the intensity of his emotions.

“namjoon,” you whispered, your voice catching in your throat as you felt the warmth of his body against yours. “you have to stop. you’ll get fired if anyone finds out.”

“i don’t care,” he murmured, his grip tightening as if he was afraid you’d slip away. “i don’t care if it means i get to be with you.”

you stood there, wrapped in his arms, the weight of his words sinking in. It was a dangerous game the two of you were playing, one that could cost him everything. but in that moment, all you could think about was the way his heart beat against your back, strong and steady, grounding you in a world that suddenly felt like it was spinning out of control. as much as you wanted to fight it, as much as you knew the risks, there was a part of you that didn’t want to let go either. the part that had fallen for him too, despite everything, despite the pain and the confusion and the impossibility of it all.

“namjoon,” you whispered again, your voice barely audible, “what are we gonna do?”

he didn’t have an answer, not yet. all he knew was that he couldn’t let you go. not now. not when he had finally admitted the truth to himself. and as you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside the classroom seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a stolen moment that neither of you was ready to end.

✧.*

a/n: this was soo ass but some sweet soul wanted more joon content so i hope they see this and if they don't like it i will def do another one

writing a namjoon college au as we speak 🙏 will definitely be a longer fic. if anyone has any requests or suggestions, please share!!

The Package Thief (KNJ)

Beautiful banner by @btsstan12

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Fem Reader

Genre: Neighbors/Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Humor

Summary: You have a new neighbor who is incredibly attractive. Unfortunately, he seems to hate you for no discernable reason at all. Does he think that just because he's hot, he can get away with being an asshole?

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Fem Reader

Genre: Neighbors/Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Humor

Word Count: 3,473

Warnings: Language, dimples, Namtiddies

~~~~~

The first time you saw your tall, handsome, dimple-cheeked neighbor, you were thrilled to have some eye candy in your apartment building. You had just moved in, and when he smiled at you in the lobby, you could have sworn you heard birds chirp and angels sing.

When you spotted him again while gathering up the packages for your floor, you perked up, hoping it would be your chance to get his name.

"Oh hey! Could you hold that for me?" you called as he stepped past the sliding doors. You juggled the boxes awkwardly in your hand as you hurried forward with a smile, only for the handsome stranger to glare at you as if you were doing something wrong. He then pressed a button that was clearly not to keep the door open, because it slid shut in your face.

"What the fuck?" you asked the air, staring at the metal frame incredulously. Who the hell did something like that? Did this asshole think he was too good to share the elevator with you?

Ugh, it figured. Of course someone that hot would never have learned to be a good person.

With a sigh, you jammed the "up" button with your elbow to wait for the next one. Your ire cooled as you waited, and you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he just had to take a shit really badly or something, and what you thought was a glare was actually his constipated face. He would probably apologize the next time you ran into each other.

~~~~~

Your neighbor did not apologize the next time you ran into each other.

If anything, he seemed to glare harder. And then the prick closed the door in your face, again. Unbelievable.

You weren't going to take this abuse laying down, so whenever you were in the position to do so, you returned the favor. It felt good to see the same irritation on his face each time the metal door slid shut, and you relished in your petty victories. He deserved a taste of his own medicine. Did he really think that just because he was hot, he could get away with being a dick?

On this particular day, you had worked late to clean up after a coworker's mistakes, and you were exhausted. All you wanted to do was take off your shoes and bra and listen to some music while you fought off the urge to angry cry.

Of course, because the universe hated you, you got to the lobby to see the smug, obnoxious smirk on your neighbor's face as he jammed the door close button. You clenched your teeth, feeling heat and frustration build behind your eyes, and gave him your most venomous glare as you flipped him off. You were not going to give this horrible piece of shit the satisfaction of seeing you upset.

Once he was gone, you pressed the elevator button, only to notice the sign indicating the other was broken. So you had to wait for piece-of-shit to get to whatever the fuck floor he lived on before it came back. It was a small thing, but enough to break through the cracks of your composure, and you felt hot tears begin to leak down your face.

You wiped your eyes angrily and took several deep breaths while you pulled yourself back together. Well, if you were going to have to wait, you might as well bring the packages up to your floor again. No point in leaving them down here for anyone to take.

As you waited for the elevator, you wondered how in the world anyone could be such a raging asshole.

~~~~~

"God, someone stole a package again yesterday," groaned Namjoon over a glass of scotch. It was Friday, the first night he had free in weeks, and it felt good to unwind after being frustrated by his bitchy neighbor for so long. Seriously, what was up with her? Did she think that just because she was hot she could get away with stealing peoples' mail?

"Again?" Jimin said in surprise, taking a sip of his own drink. "What about building management?"

"What do you mean?" Namjoon asked with a baffled furrow of his brow. Jimin lived in the same building, but on a different floor. Now that Namjoon thought about it, he'd also never heard his friend complain about a single package stolen.

"Do they just not bring up your stuff soon enough?" Jimin questioned, cocking his head. "The girl who brings the packages for my floor even organizes them by unit order."

What the hell was Jimin on about? That wasn't a thing. Oblivious to his friend's confusion, Jimin rambled on, and Namjoon pondered on this new mystery. The only person he'd ever seen picking up several packages was –

"She's really cute too, and she's always smiling."

Okay nevermind, it wasn't her. He doubted he'd seen an expression on her face other than irritation and spite. She was definitely attractive, but hot bitch wasn't really the type that turned him on.

"Oh, there she is, actually!" Jimin chirped in excitement, eyes sparkling as he waved at someone over Namjoon's shoulder. "Hey, [y/n]!"

The mystery girl in question greeted his friend with a vaguely familiar voice, and when Namjoon turned to see who it was, he felt his stomach drop.

You stared back, clearly just as shocked, and Namjoon did his best not to ogle. You weren't wearing anything outrageous, just tight-fitting jeans, a slinky top that hugged your curves, and heels that highlighted how your ass filled out said tight-fitting jeans. Even without the clothes, the smile on your face was enough to make his stomach do something funny, though it quickly faded when you recognized him.

"This is my friend Namjoon!" Jimin continued cheerfully, oblivious to the tense atmosphere suddenly hanging over the table. "He lives in our building! Namjoon, this is [y/n], she's the building person that brings up our packages."

You gave a forced smile, and Namjoon felt the beginning prickles of nausea and anxiety as he realized he might have made a tiny misjudgment.

"I just do it for our floor because it's on the way," you explained quietly, avoiding his gaze. The edges of your smile grew warmer when you looked at Jimin, transforming your face from glacial beauty to soft sincerity.

"Then I definitely owe you a drink," Jimin responded with a laugh, motioning for Namjoon to scoot over to give you room to sit. He obeyed woodenly, mind racing as guilt weighed down his heart.

"Don't worry about it," you assured him with a chuckle that made something in Namjoon's chest ache. "I'm about to walk home, anyway."

"Alone?"

You looked at Namjoon in surprise, and he realized he spoke aloud. He cleared his throat, feeling like a stupid lump as he looked down at his drink with warm cheeks. Despite the relative proximity of the apartment, he didn't like the idea of you alone this late at night.

"Yeah? It's not that far," you said suspiciously, as if waiting for a snide comment. It made his chest sink, though it wasn't as if you didn't have a good reason for your misgivings. He spoke up again, hoping maybe he could talk to you and have the chance to explain his earlier behavior.

"Why don't you have a drink with us, and we can all walk back together?"

To his surprise, you stiffened and the corners of your mouth tightened into a thin line.

"Why? So you can make me take another elevator?" you asked angrily, making Namjoon flush and Jimin look between the two of you in confusion. "No thanks, my week has been exhausting enough already. I'll see you around, Jimin."

With that, you stomped away in unfortunately righteous indignation, and Namjoon barely had time to admire the sway of your hips before Jimin piped up.

"What was that all about?" his friend asked with a frown, his usually twinkling eyes now boring into Namjoon's. He felt heat creep up his face as he sighed and began to tell Jimin the entire saga, from how he had assumed you were stealing packages and proceeded to close the elevator door in your face, to the current state of antagonism. By the time he was finished, his friend's mouth was hanging open, and he felt more embarrassment at just how childishly he had acted.

"Joonie, I'm just really surprised," said Jimin wonderingly as he rubbed his forehead. "It's not like you to be like that."

Namjoon winced, knowing he was right. He liked to think that he was the more mature, level-headed one of their friend group, above silly squabbles and petty revenge. Obviously he had overestimated himself.

"I hope you haven't done anything recently, I think she's been having a hard time at work," Jimin mused, and Namjoon felt the lead weight of guilt in his stomach grow heavier. At this rate it was going to fall out of his butt. "She was crying in the lobby yesterday."

Well fuck. He really was an asshole.

~~~~~

You had just arrived home and flopped facedown on your couch when your recharging was rudely interrupted by a knock at the door. With a groan, you forced yourself up and peered through your peephole. What the fuck?

You made sure your chain lock was fastened before you unlocked the latch and cracked the door open, peering at your visitor dubiously.

"What do you want?" you asked, eyeing a beaming Namjoon in suspicion. You had never seen him look so cheerful, and you had to remind yourself he was not a golden retriever, no matter how cute he looked with flour dusting his nose or how deep his dimples were.

"I made cookies," he said happily, and you realized he was holding a paper plate covered in crumpled tin foil. "To apologize for the way I've been acting towards you."

You felt your brows raise at his statement, and you cast your eyes behind him in mistrust. Where had this one-eighty come from? Was it just because his friend lived on your floor?

Namjoon's shoulders drooped slightly at your lack of response, and he began to shift in place awkwardly.

"Um, I just – so I know I've been a dick to you," he began, chewing his lip and looking adorably embarrassed. "This is gonna sound stupid but I thought you were stealing packages when I saw you holding all of them."

For a moment, all you could do was stare.

"You thought that I would steal a bunch of packages, in the building I live in, while other residents were around?" you asked incredulously, making Namjoon turn bright red and clear his throat.

"Well, when you put it that way…" he mumbled awkwardly. "I just… I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I hope we can start over."

He peered at you with such hopeful eyes that you felt your resolve crumble, and when you unhooked the chain from your door you could have sworn you saw a tail wagging.

"Okay," you replied, unable to keep yourself from smiling at the way he had perked up. Those dimples were serious weapons against your ability to hold a grudge. You held out your hand. "I'm [y/n], and I do not steal packages."

Namjoon laughed, a low, rich sound that you felt vibrate in your stomach, and took your hand in a firm, warm grip.

"I'm Namjoon, and I'm an idiot who jumps to crazy conclusions," he said with a grin that deepened the stupidly cute divots in his cheeks. Then he had to let go to save the wobbling plate of cookies from an untimely demise before holding it toward you with a look of chagrin.

You accepted his offering with a laugh, feeling like a warm bubble was floating in your chest. Then you bade your hot, not-asshole neighbor goodbye and set the plate on your kitchen table. You peeked under the foil, and decided maybe one cookie before dinner was acceptable. Or maybe two, if –

You took a bite of the soft, delicious looking pastry and immediately spat it out in disgust. What the fuck.

~~~~~

Namjoon Hyung! It worked!

Jin Wait, you actually made the cookies?

Namjoon Yes! They came out perfectly No fires and only a few cracked eggs on my floor!

Jin I'm impressed How'd they taste?

Namjoon Oh fuck

~~~~~

For the second time tonight, your evening was interrupted by unwelcome pounding at your door. You didn't even bother to check who it was this time.

"What do you have this time?" you snarled through the door, wondering if it was worth it to open it so you could strangle Namjoon's handsome neck. "Oreos with toothpaste filling?"

The knocking ceased, and a small, timid voice spoke up on the other side of the wood.

"Oh… you had one…"

"Unfortunately," you said shortly, crossing your arms in an attempt to keep his woebegone tone from softening your ire.

"I was hoping you hadn't yet," he wheezed through the door. "I forgot to taste them before I gave them to you."

He sounded sincere, and suddenly you realized he was speaking through pants, as if he was out of breath.

"Did you run all the way up here to warn me?" you asked in surprise, mollified enough to unlock your door and open it to reveal a rumpled looking Namjoon, bent over with his hands on his knees.

"Yeah – I didn't want to wait for the elevator," he replied, red-cheeked from exertion. "I'm sorry, I'm actually a disaster cook but I really thought I did a good job this time."

You felt your lips twitch into a smile at the imagine of tall, handsome Namjoon tasting a cookie and then immediately bolting up however many flights of stairs to stop you from eating them. What a clumsy idiot. A clumsy, adorable idiot.

"Do you want some water?" you asked, stepping aside to invite him in.

"That would be amazing," he gasped, giving you a grateful look as he walked inside. As he passed you, you noticed a few beads of sweat rolling down his temple. He really was even more attractive up close.

You directed him to sit on your couch as you grabbed a glass of water, and he picked up the book you had left on your coffee table.

"Oh, you read Murakami?" he asked as he looked at the cover. "I haven't read this one yet, is it any good?"

"It's my first, actually," you replied as you set the glass in front of him, sitting on the couch a respectable distance away. "I think he presents ideas of loneliness and intimacy in interesting ways. Does he always write the women as accessories to the male protagonists, though?"

"Haha… unfortunately, yes," Namjoon agreed, his dangerous dimples making another appearance as he smiled apologetically at you. "Do you read a lot?"

"I try, but not as much as I used to," you said with a sigh, letting your head fall back to rest on the back of your couch. "After work sometimes I'm too mentally exhausted to do anything but exist."

"But you still bring your floor's packages up?" Namjoon said in surprise, turning his wide chest towards you and giving you his full attention. You tried not to stare at the way his pecs strained against his plain white shirt, but between his body and his face there was nowhere safe for your gaze to land.

"It's not like it's that much extra effort," you said with a shrug. "Why wouldn't I when it's easy?"

"It wouldn't even cross most peoples' minds to do it," Namjoon replied, eyes locked on yours and making your cheeks feel warm. "You're a nice person, [y/n]."

"I-it's really not a big deal," you said feebly, your chest fluttering at the sincerity in his voice. You cast about your mind for a change in subject, because the way he was smiling at you was dangerous for your heart. "How did you fuck up those cookies so spectacularly, anyway?"

Your question worked to take that piercing gaze off of you, and Namjoon turned a pretty shade of pink as he looked down at his knees.

"I uh – I'm really not sure," he muttered in embarrassment, making you want to coo at how cute he was.

"Did you… follow a recipe?" you asked in consternation, watching his cheeks grow even redder.

"I… yeah, but…" he mumbled, eyes glancing around before settling on the glass of water. He grabbed it and took a large swig, and you did your best to ignore the way his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed.

"But?" you urged, amusement lacing your voice as this once-asshole stammered and squirmed uncomfortably on your sofa.

"Why wouldn't more vanilla extract make it taste better?" Namjoon whined, making you put your hand over your mouth to hide a snort.

"Oh my god, you didn't," you giggled, his chagrined pout doing as much to endear him to you as the previous half our combined. "It also tasted like you switched salt for sugar."

"Dammit," he groaned, flopping backwards so he was oddly contorted on the couch, feet still on the ground but his hips twisted so his back was laying on your cushions. His knees knocked against yours and he shot back up with an apologetic look, but all you could do was laugh harder.

"My friend who gave me the recipe was just impressed I didn't burn anything down," he sighed, though he seemed relieved that you looked more amused than irritated.

"You… you really don't cook, do you?" you chortled, scooting a little closer so you could nudge his shoulder with yours.

"I'm your stereotypical bachelor," he replied with a sigh, draping an arm behind you, across the back of the couch. You felt your heart flutter again at the smooth combination of the physical action with the way he confirmed he was single.

"So no pretty ladies – or men – to teach you?" you teased, leaning further into his body. He met your eyes with his warm gaze, making butterflies erupt in your stomach.

"Nope," he murmured, arm slipping off the sofa to rest lightly atop your shoulders, so precarious that it was clear he was half-expecting you to shrug him off.

"I guess that means I should invite you to stay for dinner," you said with a smile, enjoying the ego boost when his eyes brightened.

"No pretty men – or ladies – who would be upset by that?" he hedged, those dastardly dimples making their reappearance as he leaned closer, gaze flickering to your lips. His arm slipped lower to hug your waist, and you let him pull you closer.

"Only one who would be upset if you refused," you murmured with a smirk, tangling your fingers in his shirt as you tugged him toward you.

His lips were warm against yours, even softer than they looked, and you let out a pleased sigh as you melted into his firm chest. A low groan rumbled from his throat, sending warm tingles shooting from your chest through your limbs, and you sucked his plump lower lip between your teeth.

"I really just thought you were a hot asshole," you said with a laugh, pulling away despite the heat beginning to settle in your core.

"I mean, I was definitely an asshole," he mumbled, cheeks pink as his gaze stayed glued to your lips. Then his eyes widened. "Uh, h-hot?"

You snorted at his surprise, giving him a very obvious once over. Namjoon's face flamed even redder, which was absolutely adorable.

"Have you seen yourself?" you teased, letting your hands rest on his shoulders.

"Nah, too busy looking at you," he replied quietly, and it was your turn to be flustered. How had he turned the tables like that so quickly?

"Ha ha," you said awkwardly, cursing yourself for your inability to formulate a coherent response. He was supposed to be the idiot, not you. At your response, those dimples made their reappearance, and you stood up to prevent yourself from melting into a gooey puddle.

"Anyway, I'm gonna start dinner."

You said it in a rush, in the hopes that Namjoon didn't realize how giddy he was making you.

"Oh! Let me help!"

He began to get up from the couch, and you promptly shoved him back down.

"For the love of god, please don't," you teased with a laugh, pressing a kiss on his nose to ease the sting of your words. "Just sit there and look pretty. Moral support."

Namjoon smiled back at you, eyes warm and affectionate, and you wondered if you would even be able to focus properly while this mancake was lounging on your couch.

"As you wish."

~~~~~

Honey - Kim Namjoon (teaser)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ― yandere! namjoon, descriptions of smut, mentions of obsession, conflicting feelings for reader (only for this teaser)

𝐰𝐜 ― 416

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 ― fluff, smut, angst, yandere

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝗼𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ― Namjoon is, to put it politely, possessive and doesn’t like to see anyone touching what belongs to him. Including the nineteen-year-old college student, he’s been funding, for the past year. So, when he constantly sees her flirting, with one of those pathetic frat boys, who only want to fuck her and leave, he isn’t too thrilled.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 ― @cyjsfairy @sweetjellyfishland

𝐧𝗼𝐭𝐞 ― i don’t know the exact date this will be released, but it will definitely be sometime before or during may, not time after though. please let me know of any spelling or grammar errors, i tried to double check but if i missed anything, please let me know.

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𝑷𝒐𝒗: 𝑩𝒇!𝑩𝑻𝑺 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒕 (𝑯𝒚𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝑳𝒊𝒏𝒆)

Synopsis: The BTS boys end up mistaking a thermometer for a pregnancy test and think they're going to be dads

Your status:

Kim Seokjin:

Min Yoongi:

Kim Namjoon:

Jung Hoseok:

Do I do the maknae line part?

I hope you liked it, sorry for any mistakes💜

Can I get a BTS reaction to their child (baby, like 1 or 2 year old) giggling and laughing to them looking at themselves in the mirror? I just saw this happening. The dad was pushing the cart close and far away from the mirror, and the kid was DYING of laughter

Hello whitefoxgirl, I loved your request, it gave me lots of good ideas!!!! But I'm going to have to split it into two parts because I'm very sick at the moment so it's very difficult to write, I promise to try and get the rest up as soon as I can!!! I hope you like it 💜💜

Just a Happy Day:

𝓜𝓲𝓷 𝓨𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓲:

Since the birth of your daughter with Min Yoongi you didn't have much free time and you didn't have a day to enjoy without the responsibility of taking care of a baby, your husband did as much as he could to help with everything, but it was still very tiring. Wanting to please her, he took a day off and after a lot of persuasion he managed to convince her to go out with her friends while he stayed at home to take care of Jiyeon, as the girl was already 10 months old and always remained calm and calm with her father. He decided to accept, despite the uncomfortable feeling of being away from his little girl. 

It was already getting dark when you returned with several bags of things you had bought for yourself and Jiyeon. Everything seemed quiet and very clean despite the few toys scattered around the living room and the large sofas, which was strange since there was always a little girl running around and filling the rooms with her sweet delicate voice and loud laughter that made your days happier.

As you climb the steps of the staircase leading to the second floor, you hear a low moan coming from one of the bedrooms, which catches your attention and makes you go up faster and try your best not to make a sound as you walk up to the door of the suite, you open the door just a little to peek at what they're both doing and you end up looking at the most adorable scene in the world. Yoong is with Jiyeon in his arms standing in front of the mirror playing together, he tilts his body so that his face disappears from the mirror and then returns to his previous position, letting out a "buh" that makes the girl laugh and clap her hands.

𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓗𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓸𝓴:

After a tiring morning cleaning the apartment where you lived with Hoseok and your 6-month-old daughter Yeonju, taking the opportunity to sort out some things to donate and the presents she had received the last time your husband's friends came to visit with their children, you decided to lie down on the sofa for a few minutes just to rest but ended up dozing off for a couple of hours because you were so tired. When you woke up it was already afternoon, the sun was low and your body was less sore, but you were no longer on the sofa but on the big bed in your bedroom. Looking sideways towards the huge closet with a large mirror on the door, you saw your daughter's baby carriage with the little girl clapping her hands and laughing loudly while her father appeared and disappeared from the mirror.

Hoseok hummed a tune as he jumped in front of the mirror and then away. Every time the man disappeared, the little girl let out a loud laugh and clapped her hands in excitement at the "magic" her father was performing, which made her father do it more and more enthusiastically. Until he noticed you looking and turned towards you, a little flushed.

- Look love, she loves watching me do magic - he said excitedly before going back to playing with her, only this time determined to make you laugh too.

𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓝𝓪𝓶𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷:

With a baby at home, it was hard to find a quiet place in the house other than the library where Namjoon went to think, read and work for a while, which he did at least once a day after making sure his wife didn't need him and spending a lot of time playing with little Jae, who was a mini copy of his father.

Today the man had been locked in the library for a few hours working on a new song, but he hadn't been able to make much progress on the track and was starting to get frustrated when he heard a knock on the door and saw his wife open the door showing only her face.

- Hi, honey, I know you're busy, but could you take a look at Jae for a few minutes for me? - Yn asks with a cute smile, Namjoon smiles and nods, going to the door to take the chubby baby from his wife's hands. Jae smiles excitedly and holds out his arms to his father.

Despite being a six-month old baby, Jae is big and strong, always hungry and making a mess, his little brown eyes sparkling with love every time he sees his father. Namjoon holds him in his arms and kisses his chubby cheek, smiling at him, but the happiness of father and son only lasts a few minutes before the little one starts to throw a tantrum, whimpering as he flaps his arms in irritation. The man tries everything to calm him down, but it seems impossible. The father walks with the baby in his arms while rocking him slightly but he continues to grumble, until the man passes in front of the mirror and the baby lets out a low chuckle but starts crying again when Namjoon turns away, realizing this he starts playing with Jae through the mirror while humming the song he was working on.

When yn returned to the room, he found them playing together and laughing with each other in an adorable scene, because both of them, apart from their looks, had very similar laughs. Namjoon always looked immensely radiant when he had his son in his arms, and it was impossible not to get emotional watching him.

Sorry for any mistakes, I hope you like it 💜

Steph this is so beautiful and Namjoon is just a sweetheart in this. Love in it's most purest form. I loved every second of this amazing work.

Beneath the Boughs (M)

Fantastical Tales for Curious Souls - Chapter 3

Pairing: Dryad!Namjoon x Reader 

Word Count: 20K

Warnings: Very mild peril and angst, tooth-rotting fluff, smut - fingering, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, virgin!Namjoon.  

For almost as long as you can remember, the tree stood opposite your apartment has been a part of your life. Countless memories have been made under the shade of its supple branches, but when its existence comes under threat, you soon discover that your favourite tree is more special to you than you ever could’ve known.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** 

“Hey!  Stop!”  

As fast as your little feet had been able to carry you, you’d run, furious; hurtling across the grass towards the group of young boys congregated around the base of your apple tree, their figures cast in shade under its far-reaching branches. 

Of course, you didn’t know it was your tree back then - a tree just like any other, no dissimilar to the many others you’d ever seen - but that hadn’t kept you from watching them from your spot from way over by the swings; narrowed eyes, scowling and suspicious.  Huddled together, it was obvious even to you that the curl of their shoulders meant that they must be up to no good.  

Their unfamiliar presence in your park had been worrisome enough, but when one of them had drawn out a switchblade from his back pocket, waving it around in front of his friends only to then turn and gouge its sharp blade straight into the bark of the tree, you were left with no choice but to leap into action. 

At six tender years old you’d marched over to that group of boys, unafraid.  Being several years your senior, they were far less than intimidated by the sight of a young girl in long socks and overalls, copying a pose she’d seen her mother wear before.  They hadn’t even really noticed you were there until you’d cleared your throat to demand their attention, small hands fisted on your then non-existent hips, and even then, the ring-leader had refused to acknowledge you.  He was far too busy carving out a word your innocent mind did not yet recognise at such an age, tongue poking out of the corner of his lips in concentration. 

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” you’d informed them without a hint of fear, so sure were you of your convictions.  The closest boy to you (you’d seen him at school before, you’d thought.  The older brother of one of the girls in your class?) had scowled hard at you, his hands stuffed in his pockets.  

“Why not?” he’d snorted.  

“Because,” you’d replied, matter of fact, “You’re hurting it." 

"It’s just a tree,” another boy had said with a shrug of his shoulders, his tone as entirely apathetic as his stance had been.  

“But they have feelings,” you’d said emphatically, your bottom lip jutting out when the boys around you began to laugh at your expense.  Their mocking was finally loud enough to pull the attention of the black-haired boy with the knife and he’d turned, blade in hand. 

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