Min-jun sat in the bath of the King’s quarters, scrubbing furiously at the places that the imposter King had touched. Disgusting. Shameful. His skin was tinged pink now, both from the heat of the water and the rubbing. It was a bit of a ritual now. At the brothel, the men usually left him to his own devices once they’d had their way with him, so Min-jun took to washing himself. His first time, he’d been taken to the baths by Haneul. He’d been so numb then, he probably would’ve let himself rot away in that room had they let him.
A hand looped around his wrist and Min-jun nearly jumped out of his skin. The King stood behind him, and Min-jun had to reassure himself that it was indeed the King. Just look at his eyes, the way he holds himself, things no one could ever replace.
“You’re going to draw blood at this rate,” the King said, reaching for a rose-scented concoction. In all his years, Min-jun never would’ve imagined he’d have the King taking the role of a servant tending to Min-jun’s body: washing his hair, preparing his clothes and the bath water. Now he massaged Min-jun’s scalp with rose oil, pampering him so.
Min-jun rubbed his arm again, more gently this time. Ugly red marks had appeared in his flesh where his nails had dug in. The King had been right. Any longer and he would’ve drawn blood.
“Nothing happened,” Min-jun told him, suddenly, forcing a smile that felt it might break into a sob at any moment. “It wasn’t that bad, really.”
“He hurt you,” said the King, running his hands gently through the strands. Something hung in the air between them, unspoken. They hurt you. “You can leave it all in the past if that it is what you want, but –”
“But . . .” Min-jun repeated, breathless. He leaned his head back so he could see the King’s face.
“I’m here if it ever becomes too much. I’ll listen. And, if you ever happen to want to give me the names of those men –”
“I’m not giving you their names.”
The King hummed. “A shame.”
And just like that, Min-jun snorted, a small smile on his lips as he hid his face from the King. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Is that how one is meant to speak to their King?”
Min-jun met his gaze again, and a challenge sparked between them. Slowly, Min-jun rose to his feet. With the tub sitting a bit higher than the floor, Min-jun could actually look down on the King for once.
“Would His Majesty truly want me to speak to him that way?” Min-jun asked, caressing the King’s cheek.
The King kissed his hand. “My love. The only thing I would change about you is your startling ability to attract trouble. The stress will kill me before you do at this rate.”
. . .
All the servants had been gossipping with fervor, some of them having seen Min-jun’s dissheveled appearance. They all attributed it to the King, of course, and not a doppelganger. The news that the King would not be attending any meetings for the remainder of the day spread quickly. No one was fooled by the claim that the King was ill. The King rarely caught any sort of illness, save for bouts of inexplicable fever in the winter. No, this was a much worse disease:
Royal Noble Consort Hui. The little nymph had the King wrapped around his finger. The two spent nearly every night in each other’s embrace, and now they were spending their days in the same way! In broad daylight. The servants shook their heads, disapprovingly. Too much of a good thing is never good, Your Majesty! The poor Consort must be exhausted as well. He might’ve been a Kisaeng, but surely he had his limits as well. Perhaps with the wedding soon, the King’s appetite will be more easily sated. Though, right now, it seemed as if nothing could draw his attention away from his most striking Consort.
Of course, the truth was far from the rumors. The two might share an embrace, but it hardly ever went any further. Sometimes, Min-jun wondered if he should finally put an end to those rumors, but part of him wasn’t sure any of the servants would believe him even if he told them the truth: That the King and him had never gone beyond a kiss. Many kisses.
“And you say that man looked exactly like me,” the King said, as he handed Min-jun a cup of hot tea. To warm him up, of course. Min-jun sat with the steam warming his face. He’d bathed for what felt like hours, as if the water could make the bruises disappear. It never did.
The King brushed his hair back over his shoulder.
“Not precisely. He got the color of your eyes wrong. They were darker than yours.”
The King lowered his gaze, thinking, no, strategizing. All the prowess of a military commander was in those eyes, the color of lilacs and lavender. The echoes of a life where each move had to be calculated to the smallest detail, lest it end up killing him.
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.
Min-jun raised his hands to either side of the King’s face and that look melted away, leaving behind only concern. All his attention had returned to Min-jun, as he traced every part of the King’s face. He would not be fooled again, certainly.
“Zlc-pec.”
“Lwww?”
“P’ii mjamt atfw,” atf Blcu rjlv. “Ccv lo atja wjc lr ralii jilnf, P’ii wjxf regf tf reoofgr.”
“P xcbk sbe klii.”
“Ccv P’w rbggs,” atf Blcu gfqilfv. “Mbg jii atf alwfr atja P’nf mbwf abb ijaf.”
“Tbe’gf tfgf cbk,” Zlc-pec ktlrqfgfv joafg j wbwfca, ajxlcu atf Blcu’r tjcvr. “Ktja’r wbgf atjc fcbeut.”
The King embraced him, bringing Min-jun close enough that he could hear his heartbeat.
“Let me know if there’s anything more that you need,” the King whispered. “You know I’ll grant you anything.”
“I know.” Min-jun could fall asleep in his arms, but there was still some business to attend to.
“I should’ve let you capture him then. Even if he’s injured, his partners will save him.”
The King ran his fingers through Min-jun’s hair. “I only regret that I left you alone at all. I should’ve never taken my eyes off of you.”
“If you had stayed with me, he would’ve never approached, and we’d still be in the dark about all of this.” Min-jun raised his chin to look up at the King. “Although, I am curious as to what led you away. I thought you said you’d watch from afar.”
“Oh, that,” the King said. “I was attacked by someone. One of the imposter’s accomplices, I suppose.”
“What happened to him?”
“He killed himself with a cyanide pill.” The King said it with much disappointment. “A pity.”
Min-jun laid his cheek flat against the King’s chest again. “He should thank his gods that they let him die rather than leaving him in your clutches.”
“What do you mean?”
“Most people know of your penchant for torture, Your Majesty,” Min-jun said. “I suppose your powers are a great assistance in that endeavour.”
The King scrambled for an excuse, or something like reasonable deniability. “Well, I –”
Min-jun could not help but laugh at the King’s sputtering to save his reputation, which, mind you, was far from flawless. Min-jun slid a hand over the King’s chest, from his abdomen and up to the clavicle. And then, he pushed himself up, one hand in the center of the King’s chest, his legs straddling the King’s waist. Leaning down close to the King’s ear, Min-jun said, “They’re all rumors, of course.”
The King glanced away, sheepish. “O-of course.”
“People are quite foolish to believe such rumors.” Min-jun’s hands travelled up past his shoulders, as his arms wrapped around the King loosely.
The King narrowed his eyes at him. “You seem back to your usual self.”
Min-jun cocked his head to the side, raising one perfect brow. “You like me this way.”
“I do,” the King agreed, fingers brushing over Min-jun’s cheek. “I do.”
“You sound defeated.”
“Because I am,” the King replied. “I’ve fought in hundreds of battles now, but this is the only one I’ve ever lost. Against you, my dearest love.”
Well, if Min-jun couldn’t wield any other power, he might as well make the most of being the only man to ever get the King down on his knees. Still, that power has limits. And Min-jun hated being limited by things. If only he’d been born with a gift like the King’s. Perhaps he wouldn’t have had to suffer like this. Perhaps Su-jin wouldn’t have fallen ill. Perhaps the King could’ve trusted him eight years ago in the forest and asked Min-jun to join him on his quest to defeat his father.
But it was never about Min-jun’s weakness, was it? It had always been the King’s own fears getting in their way.
“You said you were scared of losing me,” Min-jun said. “And that made you wary of letting me help you.”
The King blinked at the sudden change of subject. “Yes, I did.”
“I think I understand that feeling a little bit more now.” Min-jun shifted so he was seated in the King’s lap a little more comfortably, his hand on the King’s shoulder. “But I also think that I’m invaluable in any type of investigation. I meant what I said. My mother had me solving cases with her since before I could talk.”
“And what happened today? It could happen again –”
“Then I’ll fight my way out just like you taught me,” Min-jun said. “Just like today. Whatever they have up their sleeve, I know I can handle it.” Min-jun pursed his lips, as he considered his next words. “We can handle it.”
“You’re suggesting a partnership, then?” the King asked, hands on Min-jun’s hips. That’s what he’s been suggesting this whole time! “If that’s what you want.”
Min-jun nodded, affirmatively. “I do.”
“Under one condition,” the King said.
Min-jun frowned, dissatisfied. “What sort of partnership is conditional?”
The King lifted his hand. Two silver rings glinted in the candle light, the jade smooth and polished. Min-jun’s eyes lit up at the sight. Nothing could dampen his penchant for pretty things. “It’s beautiful.” He picks up one of the rings and brings it up to eye level.
“Put it on for me?”
Min-jun met the King’s gaze, and found it too intense for his own good. He dropped his hand, closing his palm around the rings. “What’s it do?”
The King glanced around the room. “Why would it do anything?”
“It definitely does something,” Min-jun said, shifting to lean back against the King’s chest as he considered the two rings. “Will it grant me a Gift?”
“No.”
Min-jun craned his neck to look at him. “Oh? Are you trying to steal my soul again, Your Majesty? Since you failed the first time with the hairpin.”
“Did I now?” Tch. The King was stubborn, he’d give him that.
Min-jun narrowed his eyes at him, hands placed on his hips. “I’ll assume it’s something worse if you don’t tell me. It’d be a shame to have me be cross with you after we just got back on solid ground.”
That got to him. The King dropped his shoulders a bit, defeated, a small pout appearing on his lips. “They’re supposed to let us know if the other is in danger.”
“How do you know that?”
“Trust me, my love,” the King said, gliding his hands through strands of black hair. “I would not give you something that had even the slightest chance of hurting you.”
“Still . . .”
“I might’ve tried it out on Hye-jin first,” the King admitted.
Min-jun turned the rings over in his hand, considering his words. At last, he took the King’s hand in his and slipped one of the rings onto it.
“If I’m going to wear it, you will too.” It would be a relief to never have to wonder if the King was safe and sound. “Put the other one on me.”
The King smiled, faintly, his eyes half-closed as he gazed down at Min-jun, eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. He was beautiful, then. More beautiful than anyone Min-jun had ever seen, save for Min-jun himself, of course.
The King gently took Min-jun’s hand and brought it to his lips. Somehow, it felt more intimate than any kiss they’d ever shared, as the King brushed his thumb over Min-jun’s knuckles, and then, slowly slipped the ring onto Min-jun’s finger. They seemed to glow faintly, but otherwise remained the same.
“Well . . .” Min-jun breathed. “H-how do we know it actually works?”
“Let’s hope we never have to find out.”
They were definitely going to find out.
Min-jun sat up, separating from the King for the first time since they’d come into his quarters. “That man must be the source of those rumors about you.”
“I gathered as much.” The King crossed his arms over his chest, that calculating look returning to his face. “To think I’d actually have a doppelganger running around –”
“Not a doppelganger,” Min-jun said. “I think it’s more than that.”
A flicker of understanding passed through those violet eyes. “You think it’s a Gift.”
Min-jun nodded, almost excitedly. The case was unravelling between his fingers now, like a particularly stubborn knot in a necklace. They were closer to the answers than ever before. “It explains why you haven’t been able to catch him yet. And also . . .”
“Also?”
“What if the order to execute my parents came from him?”
The King shook his head, ever the skeptic. “Who would be desperate enough to do something like that just to execute innocent civilians? Why go to all the trouble of issuing a false royal command when they could’ve easily been caught? A person with a Gift like that would be . . . indispensable.”
Min-jun had a few ideas.
A/N: Hello everybody! This one took a while, but I hope you can forgive me! It was supposed to go up this morning but I lost my edited version of the original draft for this chapter so I had to edit it all over again lolol. Even so, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you did, please leave a comment down below. Someone give Min-jun a Gift already. The man wants one so badly.
pray give min jun a giiiift (unless he already has one and no one except the bish mother know)
wow yeah, what if minjun really does have a gift and only “mother” knows👀??
It would be kind of funny if Min-jun has a gift for investigating and he just thought he was really smart all this time 😄. I love where they’re going with the honesty, the affection and the rings. I wonder if seeing Min-jun naked in the bath made the king think “Better put a ring on it” 😂.
Thank you for the update author!! ❤️
Thanks for the chapter ♥️♥️