As cynical Min-jun could be with anything concerning the King, even he had to admit the Summer Festival had flourished under his guidance. If rumors were to be believed, the previous King had never taken much interest in event planning, preferring his military campaigns to the frivolity of parties. More often than not, festivals would be canceled, and Min-jun’s father would complain about the loss of customers. Now, the entire palace had been overtaken with excitement, lanterns strung along every doorway, music drifting on the wind. The scent of cakes and braised meats and sweet potatoes intermingled with the blossoms the King tended to so vigilantly.
The palanquin descended to the ground. Light flooded in as the door opened, and Min-jun lifted himself from his seat and allowed a hand to help him down. They faced a stone staircase, a red and gold carpet running down its middle. At the end of the staircase, several chairs made from dark brown wood had been set out. The King sat in the center, his throne mimicking the shapes of vines and flames and adorned in precious metals. Beside him, the four other chairs had also been filled, leaving only his unoccupied. His status afforded him the chance to arrive later than the rest. In fact, it would’ve been rude had he arrived with the rest of the noble ladies.
His chair being placed right next to the King defeated his attempts to be civil. Was the King trying to make more enemies for Min-jun than he already had? Another day of the King making foolish, incomprehensible choices.
His maids joined the others at the wings of the staircase, as Min-jun took the path in the middle. The King met his gaze between the beads of his crown, dressed in a black ensemble with gold dragons crawling up his sleeves.
“Everyone’s going to think I’m your favorite,” Min-jun hissed as he sat down, leaning in so only the King could hear his complaints.
“You are my favorite,” the King replied, not bothering to face him.
Min-jun gave him what he hoped was a doubting look, his body still twisted toward him, arm leaning on the armrest. Becoming the King’s favorite had always been the objective, but not so soon.
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.
“Gold suits you,” the King murmured.
“It does,” Min-jun said, exhaling. Most colors looked good on him (not all of them, mind you. He was a beautiful man, not a magician). Mother had listed the best ones for him when he first started working for the Madame. Gold, red, dark blues and purples, most pastels, some shades of yellow. He propped his chin up on his hand, watching the nobility file in. The ministers, scholars, traveling dignitaries and ambassadors. Had Mother sent someone to him? Perhaps with the performers, or the cooks, or the guards. Either way they had no way of reaching him here. Now that the King had decided to seat Min-jun right next to himself, there was even less of a chance of sneaking away. And then Sun always kept an eye on him, no matter the circumstances.
“It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?” Yun-seo said from his left. She looked exhausted, her smile forced, voice tapering off into a whisper. “So many people.”
“It’s certainly an audience,” Min-jun replied. They hadn’t spoken since their last conversation, which ended in a rather unfavorable way for both of them. He wondered if anything had changed since then. If any visions had visited her lately.
“You’re still a blank slate.”
“How did you know?”
Yun-seo smiled, softer this time, her fingers wringing together. “Once someone finds out, it’s all they ask about.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry … by the way … for forcing you to talk that night. It was … unkind of me.”
“It’s alright,” he told her, the words rushing to be heard. The King sat right beside him, and knowing him, he had eavesdropped on the whole conversation. He didn’t want Yun-seo on the King’s list for both their sakes.
Yun-seo took it the wrong way, lighting up with relief, her brow relaxing. “Oh, thank goodness. Seo-hyun yelled at me for a good fifteen minutes when she found out. She’s usually the one who keeps me from doing foolish things.” She scratched her cheek, sheepish. “I . . . didn’t consult her this time . . . obviously.”
“Obviously,” Min-jun repeated. He caught Seo-hyun’s wandering gaze on the other side, curiosity and concern in her pursed red lips and her brow.
The King rose from his throne, his robes ruffling in the wind. It was noon. The festival would officially commence after the King’s speech.
“Eight years ago,” he began, gesturing widely, “we gave life back to this momentous occasion. Left with the ruins of a bleeding nation, the Summer Festival reminded us of the joy our land still had to offer. It reminded us of the resilience and strength of the people. I’m sure not many of us will soon forget the storm that had come down upon us on the third day, and how we carried on despite it. Or how in the second year, the food supplies were cut off, and we had to manage with what we had. A thousand little mishaps over the years. Yes, I’ve made many mistakes.” He bowed his head, solemn. “And a King’s mistakes are felt by his entire nation. So, today, I’d like to thank you all, for your grace as you aided me in rectifying my shortcomings and celebrating my successes, for a King is nothing without his people.” Lovely sentiment. Min-jun almost believed it. The King suddenly turned to look at him. “And, I’d like you all to spare a moment during the festivities to celebrate an orphaned King no longer without a family.”
The applause was deafening. A soft snort escaped him, indignant. Family. He’d rather die than dub the King his family.
“You have to admit he’s a charmer,” Yun-seo said.
“Please, he’s repeating all the talking points of every monarch since Saro’s founding.”
“But with style.”
He found he couldn’t argue with that. Naturally, the King had a way with words. He wouldn’t have been able to wrap the entire Palace around his finger otherwise. Another manipulation, nothing more. One couldn’t trust a thing that came out of his mouth.
“What did you think of the speech?” the King asked, a cheeky grin on his face.
“I wish to wipe it from my memory.”
“So hostile,” he teased, tugging on the brim of Min-jun’s hat. Min-jun glared at him, and the King gave a small shrug. “It was crooked.”
Of course it was.
He needed to figure out a way out of this place, for the sake of his own sanity this time.
I really love their interactions lol, jumped into this book expecting melodramatic angst, but am pleasantly surprised
Lol there will be angst but we get some fun at the beginning! Hope you enjoy it because it won’t last 😂
Gasp! sobs and dramatically collapses onto the floor, clutching phone to heart, weeping a loss yet to make itself known to the masses
hands you a tissue. Hope you feel better
sniffles Thank you