Warning: Cheol and Min-jun can’t keep their hands off each other in this smutty chapter.
The King’s chambers were quiet when Min-jun entered. The sun had set on the second day since the incident had occurred, and Min-jun had spent the day plotting as his King continued his duties. His latest obsession: sifting through his memories of his parents and the old Minister of Personnel’s belongings. Perhaps there would be something, anything that could lead him to their mysterious leader. He sat in the middle of the dusty records room of the Royal Investigation Bureau, surrounded by the boxes the bureau had acquired from the Minister’s home.
So far, no luck. He remembered that his parents had been a part of a rebel group. Never would he have imagined they had anything to do with a criminal organization as widespread as this. He should’ve found their secrecy alarming, but he’d been only a child when they had begun disappearing to those meetings.
His heart at war with itself and his search fruitless, Min-jun had gone to the King to seek his counsel, only to find him drifting off behind his desk, eyes fluttering closed as he rested his cheek on his hand. Min-jun walked toward him with soft footsteps, expecting the King to notice him as he always did. Tonight, it appeared as if his eerie skills of perception were a bit delayed.
Min-jun sat down next to him on the cushioned seat, lips turning up in a smile. A crease had formed between the King’s brows. In your sleep, you appear to be thinking a million thoughts at any given moment. This was a side of the King that Min-jun rarely got to see. The anxiety, the burden of a Kingdom on his shoulders. Min-jun wished he could help him forget it, at least for a moment.
Min-jun brushed his hand over the King’s cheek, his temples, and the stray strands of curly hair near his ear. The King’s eyes opened, long, black eyelashes fluttering. He glanced around the room first, as if he didn’t recognize it. Then, his shoulders fell, and had Min-jun not been eyeing him so closely, he would’ve missed the slight disappointment in that sad smile.
“Is something troubling you, my King?” Min-jun asked, and the King shut his eyes as if he were in pain. How odd.
The King kissed his hand. “It’s nothing, my love.”
Oh, he would have none of that. Min-jun slid closer and leaned his head on the King’s shoulder. “What were you dreaming of?”
Their hands intertwined on the King’s lap. “Something foolish.”
“Foolish?” Min-jun repeated.
The King nodded, as he looked up at the ceiling. “I dreamt of you, my love.”
“And what did I do in that dream?” Min-jun asked.
“You were happy,” the King whispered, kissing the top of Min-jun’s head. “We lived in the countryside.”
“The countryside?” Min-jun repeated, disbelieving. He sniffed, indignant, as he stretched out on the floor, arching his back, reaching toward the wall behind them. “I won’t be working in the mud, I hope you know.”
The King laughed, genuine this time. “Of course, of course. Even in a dream, I wouldn’t dare put you in such a position.”
Min-jun bit his tongue on that one, although he was curious as to what sort of positions the King had put him in.
“Do you miss being something other than the King?” Min-jun crossed his arms behind his head, gazing at the painted finches on the ceiling.
The King smiled, albeit it was a half-hearted smile. Min-jun didn’t like seeing that look in his eyes. “As I’ve said, it’s a foolish thought.”
“Cheol-ah.” Why not? If it could get the King’s mind off whatever was troubling him. Min-jun would entertain him. He pressed a kiss to the King’s cheek, wrapping his arms around him. With a voice barely above a whisper, he spoke in his ear. “My Cheol. Shall I call you that from now? At least when we’re alone? Would that please you?”
The King’s lips found his with practiced ease, tongue slipping inside Min-jun’s open mouth. “This tongue of yours utters such sweet things.” A hand reached out to caress his cheek, the palm warm against his cool skin.
“Who am I?” Min-jun asked, cocking his head to the side. He smoothed out the lapels of the King’s jacket. “In your dreams?”
The King raised a brow. “You assume they are a regular occurrence? Even though I have you right beside me?”
“I dream of you,” Min-jun whispered, kissing him sweetly. “Nearly every night.”
The King pulled Min-jun onto his lap. Ah, Min-jun hadn’t expected the night to go like this, but he couldn’t look away from such a tempting offer. “Is that so?”
“The Cheol in my dreams is far more attentive than you, who is always busy with courtiers and Queens,” Min-jun replied, leaning away from the King’s advances. “He helps keep the cold away.”
“Are you trying to make me envious of the man in your dreams?” Cheol asked, placing a kiss on his neck instead. “How devious of you.”
Min-jun undid the ribbon of the King’s shirt. “Shall you prove to me that those dreams pale in comparison to reality?”
The King breathed in, almost as if in awe. “I do not know how you are able to completely captivate me like this every time.”
Min-jun glanced at the paperwork on the King’s desk. The petitions, the unfinished declarations, the ledgers, and a handful of documents about their trip in a few days, along with various files concerning the cases of his parents and the group they were supposedly a part of. You’ve been working hard.
“I can’t give you a simple life in the countryside,” Min-jun whispered. “But there’s one part of your dream that is still within your grasp.” Min-jun led the King’s hands to rest on his hips. “I’m here, Cheol, and I remember who you were before. I fell in love with him, after all.”
“You were an Investigator.”
“Pardon?”
“In my dream.” The King wrapped his arms around Min-jun’s waist, pulling him closer. “We were still investigating crimes together, like we had back then. To think, if I had simply stayed . . .”
“I wanted you to stay,” Min-jun told him. “Back then, I would’ve given anything to have you back by my side.” He stroked the King’s cheek. “But what point is there in such regrets now that we’ve found each other again.”
Something in the King’s gaze shifted, and Min-jun suddenly felt himself get lifted into his arms. It would appear the King had taken his advice to heart.
“Call me by my name tonight,” the King said, in the same tone of voice he used when giving orders. A shiver passed through Min-jun, as he was placed on the bed, the plush bedding at his back.
“What?” was all that Min-jun managed to say, as the King began taking off his shirt. In the low light of the lanterns, his chest seemed more defined. Min-jun’s eyes roamed the expanse of muscles, his heart pounding in anticipation.
“The night has grown cold. I must keep my consort warm, lest he start seeking the comfort of dreams. Tell me, what did he do to you? I shall have you admit of your own will that he is nothing compared to this.”
Min-jun met the King’s sly smile with a grin of his own. His King had grown even bolder since the last time.
“You’ll find it a difficult task.” Min-jun laid down so he was comfortable, and the King wasted no time in following suit, looming over him. “He kissed me so sweetly–”
The King kissed him, more sweetly than any of the men in Min-jun’s dreams. Truly. Nothing can replace the real thing.
“Such passion that I had never felt before,” Min-jun whispered, as they parted. Their hands fumbled around in the dark with their clothes, until they were both bare, gazing at one another with such desire.
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.
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“The night has only just begun, my love,” the King said, his lips tracing a path up from Min-jun’s navel to his delicate collarbones. “You will dream of nothing tonight.”
Min-jun gave a hearty, full laugh, though it was interrupted by a sigh as the King kissed a sensitive spot near the nape of his neck. “You best make sure of that.”
The King coated his hand in oil, and slowly, he pushed a finger inside Min-jun. Tight. He silenced Min-jun’s whimper with a kiss. “How does it feel?”
“Mmm, fine, just . . . just get it over with already.”
Once the King was finished preparing him, he shifted on the bed, and Min-jun lifted a hand to the King’s chest, laying his palm against his heart. Min-jun felt it beating beneath his fingertips. The King brought Min-jun’s hand up to his lips, brushing a kiss against his knuckles. His other hand gripped Min-jun’s thigh. Min-jun felt the tip of the erection push against the stretched hole. Slowly, the King slid it inside.
“Cheol-ah,” Min-jun whispered.
The King kissed him, deeply, as he thrust inside once more. Min-jun let out a stifled moan. More. “Tell me how it feels?”
But he could hardly speak anymore, with the King so deep inside him. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He reached down to touch himself.
“Min-jun,” the King whispered, cuffing Min-jun’s hands against the bed. “Answer me.”
“Good. Just like that.” More. It felt like there was something bottomless inside him that could not be filled, could not be satisfied.
The King kissed him again, and Min-jun arched into him again. A click of the tongue, and then: “More?”
The King pulled out all of a sudden and Min-jun protested the lack of warmth. Then, Min-jun felt himself being flipped onto his stomach, the King behind him, spreading his cheeks, entering him again. The pace now was harsher, faster, and Min-jun did not bother to hide his pleasure, although the servants could surely hear them outside. The King seemed encouraged by his vocalness. Each noise, each moan and whimper and word of praise, only seemed to drive him further into that lustful trance. It was unlike anything they’d done before. Their lovemaking up until that point had been gentle, full of loving gestures and sweet words, as they both became more comfortable with such intimacy. This desperate dance sent Min-jun’s head spiraling.
“Fuck.” Min-jun sighed against the comforter, the silk cool against his cheek. “I, Cheol, it feels so good.”
“Oh, my love,” the King whispered, pulling his hair. A shiver of pleasure coursed through Min-jun, as he gripped the sheets underneath him. “I’m learning so much about you.”
“Kiss me,” Min-jun ordered, breathlessly. “Please.”
The King did so, as he pushed inside him again, hand sliding down Min-jun’s chest, teasing a nipple between his fingers. Outside, the moon had hidden behind the clouds, and the room darkened still. The scent of pine needles and honey was all over him now. What he wouldn’t give to stay like this with his King, safe in this dim room, thinking of nothing but this warmth inside of him.
. . .
Min-jun dozed off in the bath, allowing the King to wash him as tendrils of warm steam curled around them. His reflection blinked up at him lazily, his cheeks flushed, his lips red, his eyes glazed over with the aftermath of all his desires being satiated. His cup was full, one could say. Overflowing. The King sat behind him, his torso against Min-jun’s back. He looked pleased with himself, violet eyes gleaming as he poured water over Min-jun’s shoulder, where a line of hickeys had been left behind.
“Sleep, my love,” the King whispered in his ear, as his hands traveled downwards. “You’re exhausted.”
“Mmm,” Min-jun replied, leaning his head against the King’s chest. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“And what might that be?”
Min-jun strained to remember, but he could not, no matter how hard he tried. “I don’t know . . . you distracted me.”
Laughter filled the King’s voice, teasing. “Did I?” Having finished his work, the King scooped Min-jun up in his arms, water dripping down their bodies in clear rivulets. Min-jun placed a hand on the King’s chest, watching the water trace a path down from his neck to his clavicle. The King’s long black hair curled in waves past his shoulders. Sculpted like a god, with a face like that. Had the Madam gotten her hands on a man like the King, she would’ve fainted with joy.
“You’re beautiful,” Min-jun murmured. Beautiful. A word that others have used against him by men and women alike as if to justify their own desires. Now, he looked up at his King, and he could not think of a better word for what he saw. The King’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment, but softened just as quickly, as he leaned his forehead against Min-jun’s.
The King placed Min-jun down gently on the wooden bench near the bath. With careful movements, as if Min-jun were a precious god and Cheol his humble servant, he dried his soaking body and then clothed Min-jun in silk sleepwear.
“You spoil me,” Min-jun whispered, looking down at the gold embroidery along the sleeves of his new shirt. He recalled his clients, as he often did when he made love to the King, though he’d rather not. They liked to spoil him too, although they rarely cared to ask what sorts of gifts he liked most.
The King kissed him again, chasing away the unpleasant memories. “You deserve to be spoiled, my love. Endlessly.”
Endlessly.
They kissed again. Min-jun’s licked at the King’s bottom lip. He made his request, his voice pleading and sweet in a way that he knew the King wouldn’t be able to resist for long. “Tell them you can’t see to your duties today.”
“Love –”
Min-jun wrapped his arms around the King’s neck and leaned in close. “The sun will be up soon. If you leave now, you’ll have gone with another sleepless night. I must take responsibility for keeping you up so late.”
“I dare say you simply want to keep me to yourself.”
Min-jun matched the King’s smile, wrapping his finger around the ribbon of the King’s sleeping shirt. “That might be true.”
. . .
Min-jun woke the next day with the King by his side with little recollection of what had happened the night before, until he felt the remnants of their lovemaking in those sensitive parts. He remembered what he had initially come for and covered his eyes with his hand. Honestly, Min-jun. Get your priorities straight.
A groan bubbled from his throat, as Min-jun rubbed the palms of his hands over his eyelids. Gods. He just couldn’t help himself when it came to the King.
Min-jun untangled himself from the King and sat up, letting the silk comforter slide down to pool around his waist. He took in the sunlit room. Books neatly lined a pine shelf, the jade green pots were filled with flowering plants, a piece of summer on the brink of winter. All around them were pale screens and tapestries depicting scenes of grand landscapes. Mountaintops and valleys, rivers and meadows of wildflowers. There was a quiet luxury to the room, for the King wasn’t one to revel in excess. There was nothing of Min-jun here. He’d made no effort to make any part of it his own. Why would he, when he was not even the King’s only consort? He had no right.
A hand reached out to him, pushing his hair back over his shoulder. Min-jun turned to look at the fully conscious King, his eyes full of warmth as he stroked Min-jun’s cheek.
“I wonder what’s on your mind, my love?”
“How small I am,” Min-jun replied, lying down next to the King. “How large your world is.”
“And yet, nothing in it captivates me as you do.” The King’s eyes twinkled as if he knew all of Min-jun’s thoughts already. “My whole world is you, my love.”
Min-jun pouted. “Don’t lie, Your Majesty. Your whole world is your Kingdom. Even I know that between the two of us, you’d choose your role as King before me.” You always have.
The King raised a brow. He looked like he wanted to argue, but they both knew Min-jun was right. In the annals, he’d be written down as a mere consort to the King, an ex-prostitute who got lucky and managed to seduce his way into the King’s bed chambers. There was nothing more to be said. He’d be reduced to a line or two. The King would have ballads written about him, his benevolence, his charm, his cunning and wit.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Min-jun whispered, sitting up again, so that the King wouldn’t see his face. “I have no use for a tyrant King who forsakes his people.” And what did he care about how people in a hundred years saw him? He hardly cared about that now. Buried beneath the ground, or his ashes scattered, what care would he have about how he was remembered? Let it be their secret.
The King pushed him down onto the bed again. Min-jun’s fingers curled in his hair as the King kissed him, deeply. “A tyrant King?” The King whispered into his ear. “Perhaps I’m more of a tyrant than you realize, my love?”
“A tyrant lover, perhaps,” Min-jun said in a breathy tone. The King slipped down to kiss his neck. “Mm, Cheol, you’re keeping me all to yourself. Like a tyrant hoarding his wealth.”
“You’re the one who offered yourself to me.” The King undid the ribbon of Min-jun’s robes, pushing them aside. Warm hands glided down Min-jun’s chest, sending shivers up his spine. He turned his head away from the King’s gaze. His stomach flipped. Heat rose to his cheeks. “A King should be opportunistic.”
Min-jun let himself be led along, ready to continue what they’d started the night before. He arched his back as the King laid his hands on his hips. “Take me, then.”
The King’s lips found his again, tongue slipping into Min-jun’s mouth. Min-jun sucked in a sharp breath, pulling the King closer. He’d never grow tired of this feeling. The thrill of the King pressed against him, rubbing against him, their hips grinding together.
“Say those words again,” the King hissed in his ears. Min-jun snorted. Look at him. Making demands when he could hardly hide his own desperation.
“Which words would those be?”
“Min-jun.”
A chuckle, triumphant, almost cruel, as Min-jun leaned in close, feeling the King’s anticipation.
“I love you,” Min-jun said, so close to the shell of the King’s ear that his lips brushed against it. “I love you.”
But before they were too far gone, Min-jun’s priorities decided to sort himself, and he remembered why he’d come to the King in the first place. Right as the King was slipping his pants down below the knees, Min-jun pushed him away with a strong shove. The King seemed surprised but moved away from him.
“My love?”
Min-jun pulled his pants back on, trying to keep his eyes off the King and his well-built torso. He stood up, crossing his arms. “You keep distracting me.”
“I’m distracting you?”
“I didn’t come here just to sleep with you, you know,” Min-jun said, tying his ribbon. Under his breath, he continued to mutter. “Although . . . I can’t say it was unpleasant.”
The King stared up at him, still confused, his robes still open. Min-jun bit his lip. His fingers tingled. He wanted to touch the King so badly, that it took every last bit of self-control to not fall back in the King’s lap.
Later. He could throw himself at the King later.
“Tie your shirt up for gods’ sake,” Min-jun said, turning away from the King. For my sake as well.
The King cleared his throat, and when Min-jun glanced back at him, the shirt was closed. He sighed in relief. “Well, love, since making love was not on your mind. What was?”
Min-jun crossed his arms again and sat down next to the King. “My parents might’ve been traitors.”
“Don’t put too much faith in the words of that madman,” the King said. “No matter their allegiances, they loved you. They were taken from you unjustly.”
“I knew so little about them,” Min-jun whispered, wringing his fingers together. “They never told me anything. Was it . . . could it have been because of that?”
“Because they wanted to keep you safe.”
Min-jun’s traced the jade ring on his finger. He glanced at the identical ring on the King’s finger. Somber, he placed his head on the King’s shoulder, gathering his thoughts. How much . . . how much did they know, of what would happen after?
“I need to find who this master is,” Min-jun said. “But they’re so good at hiding. There was nothing in the Minister’s belongings. Not a shred of evidence.”
“I wonder . . .” the King trailed off. He pulled away from Min-jun and stood up. Without another word, he disappeared into his study.
“You’re supposed to be listening to my plight,” Min-jun called after him. “What are you looking for in there?”
The King returned with an envelope in hand. A letter? He offered it to Min-jun, who could only stare at it because he recognized the hand-writing. “To my little detective,” it said. His mother’s writing had always been unnecessarily sharp, much like Min-jun’s own brushwork.
“H-how . . . why do you have this?” Min-jun asked. He would not take it. His hands would not move. “How long? H-have you read it? I don’t . . . I –”
The King covered Min-jun’s hand with his own, and Min-jun quickly withdrew. He hid something from me. Again. My mother’s own letter to me. How dare he?
“I’m sorry I didn’t give it to you earlier,” the King said. “I haven’t read it. It’s been sitting in the Palace since . . . well, since that night.”
“She gave it to you?”
“She thought I’d be her messenger.” The King placed the letter in Min-jun’s hand. “Seven years too late.”
“Do . . . what did she say to you?” Min-jun asked. “On that night?” Bile rose in his throat. He shouldn’t have to ask anyone about how his parents had died or what they had said. He should’ve been there on their deathbed. They should’ve lived another forty, fifty years. They’d died so young. Min-jun had thought they’d live forever.
“She said to give the letter to you when you seek me out,” the King said. “She said you’d survive long enough to do that.” And? “She spoke of a woman who was holding you hostage.”
So they knew that much?
“She makes us call her Mother,” Min-jun whispered, surprised he could even speak of that woman. “She put me in the brothel. A way to save the only remaining family I had and a way to avenge those who had already passed. She left me to be preyed upon by those men.” Min-jun’s grip tightened on the letter. He laughed and it was a bitter sound. “A small price to pay. She taught me everything I know.”
“Let’s kill her too, then,” the King replied. Min-jun’s gaze lifted to the King’s. “It seems long overdue.”
“It’ll be dangerous.” Dangerous for Su-jin especially.
“I’m the King. There is no feat too great for me to accomplish. If it is what you wish, I will bring you her head.”
“I’m not keen on collecting body parts, I’m afraid.” Min-jun looked down at the letter again. “Aren’t you afraid of what it might say?”
“Such as?”
“Kill the King. Do not count the cost.”
The King smiled. “I do not think your mother was the type to lead her son down such a path.”
“You barely knew her.”
“I knew her well enough to know that she loved you. Besides, if it does turn out that you must kill me after all, well . . . I’ve already been greedy enough with you as it is. I will count my blessings. For a moment, at least, my life was pure bliss, because you were in it. So few men can experience such happiness as I have.”
“How saccharine,” Min-jun said, though he leaned closer to the King, so their foreheads would touch. He kissed him sweetly.
“Open it.” The King encouraged him, kissing his shoulder. “We’ll deal with the consequences together.”
Min-jun stared at the King a moment more, eyeing the hickeys he’d left on his neck the night before. What would he do if his mother asked him to forsake the King? I suppose neither of us are truly committed to one another.
“I’m scared,” Min-jun whispered, hardly believing the words he spoke.
“Then you can open it when you’re ready.”
Min-jun snorted. If he waited until he was ready, the letter would remain closed forever. He looked down at the envelope again, the plain green paper beneath his fingertips. His mother’s last words to him. Something other than, “we’ll be back before sunrise.” He was tired of waiting for sunrise.
With that bit of courage to push him over the edge, Min-jun slipped his thumb under the flap. He slipped the letter out of the paper envelope and unfolded it. The King’s eyes darted between Min-jun and the letter, gauging his reaction. A hand rested on the small of Min-jun’s back. Min-jun did not know how he felt reading this letter next to the man his parents had despised. A bit of shame pricked him, as he remembered all the kisses he’d shared with this enemy of theirs, all the nights they’d spent in each other’s embrace. But no, he refused to be ashamed of loving someone, even if that person was Cheol, the King they hated. He read:
“My son,
I do not know how much time has passed or when you are reading this. I hope you and Su-jin are both well and healthy and strong. Perhaps you’ve found some peace now. Perhaps you’ve found someone to love, and joined the Royal Investigation Bureau like you always said you would. My son, with your great ambitions and your great future. I hope all your dreams have come true. I hope you have forgotten us by now, and only remember as the parents you once loved you, and not the parents who abandoned you when you needed us. Do you smile a lot? Do you still love spicy food? Does Su-jin still make you scarves every winter? Do you still get yourself into trouble at every turn?
I want to believe you’ve built a life for yourself, but I am not naive. The master does not let anyone leave, and Hye-rin’s had her eyes on you for so long . . . I was a fool not to notice. Please forgive this stupid mother for letting those vultures near you.
But now, it is too late. I am too late, blinded my own loyalty to that man. But now you’re here and you are with Ha-jun again. Who would’ve thought that brat would have a crown on his head one day? Knowing you, you wanted to avenge us and sought him out to kill him. Selfishly, I must ask you to forget your vengeance. The master will roam without chains if the King is killed, and then we will never be free of him. I must ask you, then, to find the master. Find him and kill him. I have no doubt in you, my son, for I taught you everything you know.
Do you remember the poem I wrote you? Beneath the moon,”
“Under the mountains, the soldiers still weep. Their tears form the rivers and the streams. And at the foot of the mountain, there lay the treasure of the kidnapped Princess they swore to keep.” Min-jun took in a shaky breath. “Home. She wants me to look there, then.”
“Then we’ll go there.” The King kissed the spot near his eye. Tears had formed there. “And we will put an end to all of this.”
Min-jun nodded, wiping at his eyes. “Yes, that . . .” He could not speak. His throat felt clogged by the tears. “I remember.”
“Min-jun?”
“She wanted me to be a Royal Investigator.” Min-jun gasped for breath, covering his mouth with a hand. “She wanted us to forget her.”
The King took a strand of Min-jun’s hair and tucked it behind his ear. “She wanted you to find peace.”
“We need to go.” Min-jun stood, suddenly. The King followed him. “I have to go. Now. I’ll take a horse and then, how long will it take to reach the village? Four days? Two of the horses can manage it.”
The King took him by the shoulders. “Min-jun, wait.”
“Seven years!” Min-jun cried, raising his hands to his head. “I’ve waited seven years. For revenge they didn’t even want! Working with their enemies! I let us both rot in that place for seven years! I let them treat me like a fucking piece of meat –”
“And you’re here now.” The King cupped Min-jun’s face in his hands. “With me. After seven years, we’ve found each other. And soon we’ll have Su-jin safe in the palace, and Mai as well, and all this will be behind us.”
“I was such a fool,” Min-jun said, his voice feeling hoarse and weak now. He wrapped his arms around himself, feeling cold, numb. “It must’ve been so easy for her to mold me into what she wanted. Do you know what she told me?”
The King did not reply, his eyes pained. He let him speak. He let him feel the pain.
“‘Her blood will be on your hands otherwise,’” Min-jun spat out the words. “It was either the brothel or the streets for us. Su-jin’s medicine cost a fortune in her hands. Gods, I should’ve seen it all!” He snapped out of the King’s gentle touch and began to pace around the room. “The illness started when we’d met her too. It must’ve been her doing. She must’ve known everything from the beginning. Our relationship, my parents’ allegiances, everything. But why a brothel? Why force me to entertain those men when she knew you would fall for me anyway.”
“It sounds like a personal vendetta,” the King said.
Min-jun remembered the way Mother had looked at him the first time they’d met. Her appraising gaze, her cruel smile. Why? It had been like a game to her.
“She hated you,” Min-jun said. It had never been about Min-jun, from the start. Perhaps she’d simply enjoyed watching the King’s beloved forced to oblige the whims of other men. If those men were sadists, all the better. “She wanted to hurt you.”
He remembered once, hearing her talk with the Madam. He’d thought nothing of it then, but even the Madam had seemed surprised by her suggestion.
“You should send my darling Min-jun to room three. He can tame any beast, even a dragon. Besides, that lord pays so well, I’m sure little Jun will not mind entertaining him for the night.”
Room three. Min-jun remembered Haneul had argued with them. Mother had stood over Min-jun once the lord had left the brothel. She’d took a glance at his beaten body and her eyes glinted with satisfaction. “It’ll heal.” And the cuts did, leaving not a mark, but Min-jun could never get the image of the lord in room three out of his head. Of course, the sadistic lord had taken a liking to him after that. The bruises healed. Min-jun took his money as Mother had said he should. Not long after, Haneul asked him to run away from the brothel. He died not a month later from that brothel disease. No doubt Mother’s doing. Min-jun had to force his way out of that hell on his own.
A dragon.
“Maybe she was surprised you didn’t come looking for me,” Min-jun said, harshly. “Find me in the arms of another man. Maybe that was the plan all along. You had her fooled, then. You didn’t even remember me. I was just another brothel worker amidst hundreds of others.”
Min-jun glanced down at his hands. Slender, pale fingers, once covered in jewels from his clients. Min-jun could finally see Mother clearly. It had not been the King who had stolen his life from him. It had been her. Mother. No, not Mother. Hye-rin.
“It was never about me.” He shed the final threads of Hye-rin’s influence. There was no destiny, no grand reason for his pain. “I was just the fool you fell in love with.”
Min-jun took the King’s hands. The King squeezed back, gently reassuring him. “I need you to help me save someone.”
A/N: I’m baaaaaaaaaaaack. Sorry this chapter took so long, school distracted me. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I’m still not good at writing smut but I felt like they deserved to get it out of their systems before the real angst starts. If you did enjoy this chapter, please leave a comment down below.
finally some truth among all the confusion!! it feels so good that they now have a concrete goal and know where they should to start putting an end to this 🥹
and good luck at school!
I’m so glad I’m finally in the last arc lolol. Time for the final showdown.
AUTHOR IVE MISSED YOUR UPDATES SO MUCH 😭😭😭😭THANK U FOR YOUR HARD WORM ❤️
Thank you so much for commenting!
Two weeks! I knew I was missing things 😑.
I can’t remember if Cheol knew about Hye-rin already. It’s going to be fun to see our beauties go hunting together!
Your smut was lovely, Dear. I enjoyed it very much 😏
I’m glad you enjoyed it lolol. Cheol doesn’t know about Hye-rin being mother yet but now that MJ has mentioned her name, Cheol is definitely putting the pieces together behind the scenes. now he just has to tell MJ about his tragic backstory heheh.