The bookstore was empty when they arrived. Obviously, with the owner dead, the shop itself was no longer open to the public. You could’ve heard a mouse scratching at the walls. Min-jun hoped that the place hadn’t been raided by the culprit yet. That would prove problematic.
Min-jun opened the door to the storage room in the back. Dusty books were strewn along rickety shelves. Dust motes floated in the afternoon sunlight. They didn’t know what they were looking for. Something suspicious. A book out of place, a note stuck between its pages, a loose floorboard. They found nothing.
Min-jun stood from his place near the bottom shelves. The only thing he had discovered was that there was another volume in that mystery series he enjoyed.
“Your Highness?” Sun asked as they made their way out of the bookstore. Pursuing an actual case with a partner reminded him a bit of his time in Wolgwang City. It felt natural. “What now?”
“We go to his home instead,” Min-jun said.
“We do not know where he lives.”
“So? We know who does. That’s enough.”
. . .
The Investigation Bureau reluctantly gave up the address of the old bookstore owner. It was a small home with a thatched roof in some indistinct part of the city. The old man had lived alone but had been friendly enough with all his neighbors. None of them would have ever guessed that he would get on someone’s nerves enough to be killed. As if a person needed to commit some crime or slight against someone to be murdered in cold blood. People were not always so particular.
The home was orderly but full of a homely warmth that only certain people could bring. Old books inside oak cabinets, a desk with a half-finished painting of a storefront on top of it, and an empty bowl save for a few slices of dried orange.
Min-jun sat down behind the desk. It must be where the bookstore owner usually spent his time. He lifted his gaze to the window across from him. There, only a street away, was a store identical to the one the owner had painted. That wasn’t particularly noteworthy, he told himself. Many people take inspiration from reality. But upon closer inspection, he noticed something quite strange in the painting.
‘What is a nobleman doing in a restaurant for commoners?’
Odd.
Min-jun turned his gaze to the shelf, his eyes catching on the blue spine of “History of Saro”. As another knot was unraveled in a tangled web, a rush of adrenaline swept over him as he walked over to the shelf and pulled out the book. There was a wooden bookmark inside of it, and on the bookmark, someone had written a string of characters.
‘Jasmine.’
Perhaps it was simply a keepsake. He pocketed it, nevertheless. One could never underestimate the usefulness of a suspicious object.
. . .
A bowl of spicy stew was set down in front of Min-jun. It would look less suspicious if they bought something, and Min-jun was rather hungry, even if his mind wanted nothing more than to continue solving this puzzle.
Before he could take a spoonful of the stew, it was taken from under his nose. Sun shook his head. Min-jun was a member of the royal household now. Poison could lurk around any corner, especially now that he was meddling with this affair. What a bother. Min-jun put down his spoon to the side of the bowl, and propped his chin up on his hands. He sighed, forlorn, staring down at the stew.
Before he could say anything further, Sun brought a spoonful of the broth to his lips. Min-jun’s heart skipped a beat. What are you doing?
“Are you crazy?” Min-jun said, reaching for Sun’s hand. He grabbed Sun’s wrist, nails biting into the skin there. “You said it yourself that it might be poisoned.”
“But you are hungry. His Majesty will be unhappy if you come home starving.”
“His Majesty will be unhappy if I bring home your dead corpse.”
Sun blinked rapidly. His mind couldn’t process what Min-jun had just said. “You are . . . worried about me, Your Highness?”
The hopeful expression on Sun’s face made Min-jun clear his throat, as he leaned back and tried to concoct an excuse. Caring for his enemy’s friend was certainly against the rules. But saying that he didn’t worry about him would be rude. Min-jun set his hand down on the table. Time to change the subject. “You should stop calling me by my title in public.”
“What should I call you, then?”
Min-jun considered, tapping his fingers on the table. “Min-jun. Just Min-jun.”
Sun gave a nervous grin. “I’m afraid His Majesty might kill me if he hears me calling you that.”
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
“You’re his precious friend, why would he do such a thing?”
Vec ibkfgfv tlr ujhf ab atf rqjmf yfakffc atfw, ygertlcu tlr atewy bnfg tlr xcemxifr. “Tbe’v yf regqglrfv.”
Pc j rtbk bo rswqjats, Zlc-pec gfjmtfv j tjcv bea ab Vec, yea rabqqfv rtbga bo abemtlcu tlw, ofjglcu la kbeiv yf lcjqqgbqgljaf bo tlw. “P’w bcis regqglrfv atja sbe njief sbegrfio rb ilaaif.”
Sun gave him a slight smile. “You are too kind, Your – I mean, Min-jun.”
He was so genuine, Min-jun almost felt bad for him. “I think you’ll find I am not kind to those who are undeserving of it.”
Their little moment did not last long, as a man in a dark blue hanbok entered the restaurant. The restaurant owner approached him, and after a few hushed words were exchanged, he took the man to the back of the store. Min-jun stood to follow them. Sun took hold of his arm.
“These people might be dangerous.”
“They certainly are,” Min-jun said, shaking him off. “That’s why you’re here.” Don’t worry, I won’t do anything too reckless.
Min-jun slid open the door just a crack, peeking in to gauge the sight. The two men were engaged in a heated conversation. The owner’s hands shook, but whether it was with fear or fury, Min-jun could not be certain. A moment later the other man shoved something into the owner’s chest. It was the same token as the one Min-jun had found in the pages of Shin Jil’s book. The owner reluctantly took the token and pulled out a small pouch from a crate. The other man poured some of the contents of the pouch onto his hand. A pale blue powder piled into the palm of his hand.
Min-jun glanced up at Sun, who met his gaze with the same look of recognition. This went deeper than a simple homicide case.
. . .
“It’s likely a trap,” Min-jun said, as the two of them walked down the street side by side. “There’s no reason for them to show off in the middle of the day, especially when they know I’m looking for them. It’s all too convenient.”
“So, should we leave them to it?”
“No, they went to all this trouble to set a trap. We can’t let that go to waste.”
Sun waited for him to continue, needing no words.
“We’ll need the Royal Investigation Bureau for this.”
Sun arched a brow. “You’re going to ask the King for help?”
Why sound so surprised? Certainly, Min-jun didn’t like asking the King for anything. He especially hated to be given things by him. But even Min-jun understood that in the world of crime, one must use whatever advantage they can, no matter what side you were on.
“Indeed.” Min-jun came to a stop in front of a tea shop with a tiled roof, so different from the chaos of the commoner’s restaurant. In the window of a room on the second floor, Min-jun could make out a familiar figure. “Well, what a coincidence.”
“It’s His Majesty,” Sun said. “How did you know he’d be here?”
“People talk.”
Min-jun walked past the waiters approaching them and headed for the stairs. He heard Sun apologizing to the staff for their intrusion, assuring them that Min-jun was only meeting someone he knew, and therefore did not need their help in finding them. Once that was settled, Sun rushed after Min-jun.
“Your Highn – Min-jun, are you certain this is a good idea?”
“Feeling talkative today, aren’t you?”
Sun grumbled something about talking just as much as he usually did. Min-jun wasn’t paying attention anymore, he was only concerned with the King and his companion. His fist curled, a telltale sign of the internal conflict he refused to acknowledge. Do you really want to stumble on a scene like this? He came to a stop in front of the room. The King was certainly with that woman right now.
All the more reason to interrupt them. It would be good to finally meet his rival, to see what he was up against.
He slid open the doors, and his heart sank, despite all of his best efforts to steel himself.
The King and his companion sat next to each other, so close that their bodies touched. The King’s hand was intertwined with one of the woman’s, his lips nearly touching hers. By the looks of it, they had been kissing just moments before. The woman was breathless and flushed, and when she turned to look at Min-jun, her face only reddened further. Oh please, it was only a kiss. Don’t be so proud of yourself.
Though, when was the last time the King had kissed him like that? And the way he’d held her, with such gentleness. Feels familiar, doesn’t it? Fool. Why had he ever entertained the idea that he was special? He looked at his rival: Her sleek, black hair, her intelligent brown eyes, her flawless complexion, cheeks still pink from being caught in such a position. Her clothes were the color of jade and pearl. She was beautiful, and with the King beside her in his black and gold ensemble, the two looked like a destined pair. Tch.
“Min-jun,” the King whispered his name. Min-jun held that gaze, the color of blooming lilacs, and then began to stumble back.
“Pardon me,” Min-jun said, bowing to them. Why did his chest feel so tight?
No matter. They couldn’t speak with that woman there. Min-jun would have to lead him away. That was certainly why he fled the room so quickly. It wasn’t because his mind was tearing him apart.
Stupid, stupid boy.
If something seemed too good to be true, then it wasn’t true. Min-jun should know that by now. The King was only gentle for as long as someone was useful to him. Min-jun and that woman weren’t so different in that regard. Perhaps he should feel some kinship with her. We’re idiots, the both of us.
A hand gripped his arm, pulling him into an empty room that smelled vaguely of sandalwood incense. The King would not release him, taking him further into the room.
“Let go of me,” Min-jun said, trying to twist his arm out of the King’s grip.
“Promise me you will let me explain,” the King insisted. Min-jun had him right where he wanted him, but the bitterness in his heart kept him from speaking. The King only drew closer, calling him by his pet name. “My love.”
“Do you call her that, too?” Min-jun asked. He found he could not look the King in the eye any longer. “You’re not even married yet.”
“You must know that she can never compare,” the King said, taking his hand, just as he had hers. “What I’m doing now is for the sake of the country.”
“The country? Are you truly planning on making her your Queen?” Was he truly planning to cast Min-jun aside? What was he to do in that situation? Run away? Kill the King? The time for him to decide might be coming sooner rather than later.
The King cupped Min-jun’s chin and tilted his head up. “I do not know what you’re thinking, but even if I did make her Queen, the relationship you and I have would never be in jeopardy.”
Min-jun shook his head. Nothing the King said had ever been sincere. Gone was the boy who had so wholeheartedly declared his love for Min-jun all those years. Then again, he’d left me back then as well. He should expect nothing of a man like that.
“It doesn’t matter,” Min-jun told him. “It’s not like we’re truly lovers. You can wed whomever you’d like. Even if I had been in love with you, you’d still have your pick of all the beautiful men and women in the country.”
The King did not appear consoled by this. In fact, his concern only grew, clear on his face.
“Anyway,” Min-jun said. Here he was complaining about being slighted while Choi Yung remained in jail. He had to take care of this quickly. At least now he had the advantage in the conversation. “I know how you can make it up to me.”
“I thought you said it didn’t matter.”
Min-jun cast him an icy glare, and the King pursed his lips. “You’re aggravating, you know that?” He put his hands on his hips. “I need help from the Investigation Bureau. The old shopkeeper’s death might have something to do with that drug trafficking ring you’re looking for.”
“What?” the King asked. He took Min-jun by the shoulders. “What do you mean?”
So he hadn’t known? A sense of satisfaction filled him.
“Shin Jil had all the signs of overdosing on that new drug from the Northern Empire. What was it called? Gimi.” Too wrapped up in his explanation, Min-jun did not notice the growing fear on the King’s face. When he finally locked eyes with him, the King’s expression gave him pause. How could the King look at him in such a way?
“Y-you cannot continue with this case,” the King finally said, his hands brushing up and down Min-jun’s arms as if to check for injuries. “I will have Sun send you back to the Palace.”
Min-jun stepped away from him. “I refuse. There’s a young boy who’s been accused of murder because of these people. I cannot rest until I find the culprit.”
“You already have,” the King said. “With this, we have proof enough that it’s the work of the trafficking ring. The boy will be released once the Royal Investigation Bureau gives them notice.”
“You mean once you order the whole case to be erased because I’m involved, yes?”
“Does it matter if an innocent boy is released?”
Min-jun opened his mouth to argue, but could not find anything to say. “I-I can still help.”
“Min-jun,” the King said, and the name sent a shiver up Min-jun’s spine. “That’s enough.”
“But I’m an investigator. You need every asset you can get. You know I can be of use, I’m –”
“You’re not an investigator anymore!” the King said. Min-jun stood motionless. He raised his voice at me. “You are my consort.”
“You and I both know I am only your consort in title. There is nothing between us, beyond what I’ve been sent here to do. I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn about this –”
The King took hold of his wrist, bringing him closer.
“Let go.” Min-jun shoved him, but the King held tight. “Let go of mmph–”
The King had kissed him, and the action made Min-jun’s brain short circuit, as something like pleasure built up in his chest. Softly, he moaned into the kiss, and then the image of the King and that woman kissing flashed before his eyes. Min-jun bit his lip, and the King pulled back a bit.
“I am not yours.”
“Not mine?” the King mused, as he pushed Min-jun up against the wall. “You entered the Inner Palace of your own accord. You knew what that entailed. If I should wish for it, I could confine you to Jangmi Villa for the rest of your life.”
“I’d kill you before then,” Min-jun whispered.
“Kill me?” The King laughed. Min-jun felt more and more cornered every second. “You don’t have it in you. Not anymore.”
We’ll see about that.
The King sighed, some of the tension leaving him, as he dropped his head to Min-jun’s shoulder. “I only wish to keep you safe, my love. Is that so wrong of me?” The King wrapped his arms around Min-jun’s waist, pulling him flush against his own body. A shaky breath tickled Min-jun’s exposed neck. “That moment when I saw you unconscious in Sun’s arms after the explosion, I thought my heart was being torn out of my chest. I was . . . frightened. More frightened than I’ve ever been. My love, I cannot lose you. Not again.”
Again.
The room was quiet as they stood, breathing in each other’s scents, taking comfort, somewhat reluctantly on Min-jun’s part, from each other’s presence. Moments like this reminded him of their time in the river towns. Dangerous. Very dangerous, indeed.
Min-jun carded a hand through the King’s hair. It was soft to the touch. That was fitting. Everything about the King was gentle. The press of his body against Min-jun’s, his hands at Min-jun’s back, his breath against his bare skin. Another shiver went up his spine.
“Are you crying?” Min-jun asked.
“Am not,” the King replied, holding him tighter. “But I might if you continue to put my heart through this.” How dramatic.
“Will you find who killed Shin Jil,” Min-jun asked.
“Of course.”
“And release Choi Yung?”
“I will.”
Min-jun knew when to concede, even if he was sometimes late in doing so. The King had made it clear that his safety was the priority, and that was something he could not compromise on. Very well. As long as the case was in the King’s hands, it would be solved. And, if Min-jun heard that Choi Yung was still being held captive, then he’d simply have to find a way out. And this time, he wouldn’t have to wait for the King’s permission to be handed to him.
A/N: Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed the longer chapter. Now that I’m only updating on Saturdays, this will probably be the new norm. If you liked this chapter, please leave a comment down below.
Really hoping that this was an act and the king wasn’t seriously considering what he said 👀🔪
😃
I’m curious if this was as wrenching for people who have not walked in on that. If the king believes that Min-jun loves him too much to assassinate him, he should be very careful not to push him into doing for a different reason. He had him at the end though, didn’t he.
And yet, I would have been a little let down if Min-jun didn’t react to catching Cheol…working another source. There is no pleasing me 😅
The King is a tad too confident, methinks.
Thank you for commenting!