Moonlight flooded the city as night pooled in. Everyone gathered in the center of the city for dancing and general merrymaking. Songs and laughter filled the air, drowning out the natural silence of the city. Min-jun stood off to the side with a jar of liquor in his hand. He’d never been one for parties, and after his admittance into the brothel, he’d managed to earn a distaste for them. The King didn’t seem to share in his disdain, having disappeared into the crowd to join the dancers. Min-jun had given up on keeping the King in check a long time ago.
Hyun-woo pulled the liquor jar away from Min-jun’s lips. “Don’t drink so much.”
“I’ve only had half the jar,” Min-jun said, pushing the man away with a flailing movement, pressing the jar to his chest.
“You’ve been through half that jar in ten minutes,” Hyun-woo said, relenting.
Min-jun peered down at his drink, down, down into the flicker of moonlight on the liquid, but his mind was back in the brothel. The sound of the villagers singing and talking mingled with that of the riotous laughter of clients. Rooms with men waiting to be served, whether that be drinks or favors. Each courtesan would be free to take their clients to their rooms for however long the clients were willing to pay.
He shouldn’t be thinking about this. A pulsing headache had begun at the back of his head, blurring his vision. Min-jun sunk to a squat, feeling the nausea roll off of him. Hyun-woo wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
Hyun-woo brought him closer, rubbing Min-jun’s back in gentle circles. “Maybe we should just get you home, yeah? Looks like half a jar’s enough for you.” Hyun-woo helped him back onto his feet, and Min-jun stumbled back into him, his brain feeling like mush inside his skull, rocking back and forth like a pendulum.
“I’ll take him.” The King was suddenly beside them, an arm wrapping around Min-jun’s waist. That, too, brought back unpleasant memories, and his headache worked to make them hazy. No, I do not wish to remember any of this.
In the end, it was the King who led him away, back toward Hyun-woo’s apartment. He guided a stumbling Min-jun down the streets for a good while, before he lost his patience and swept Min-jun off his feet instead.
“Stop,” Min-jun said, slurring his words. “It hurts.”
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.
“I’ll try not to jostle you too much,” the King said, adjusting his arms around Min-jun, so that his head was in the crook of the King’s neck. He smelled a bit like honey, and the scent kept Min-jun from slipping away, so he breathed it in, pressing into the skin of the King’s throat. The arms around Min-jun tightened, and for a moment, he lost himself in that embrace. The King would make a fine lover if he were not a murderous psychopath.
They reached the apartment soon after, and the King placed Min-jun gently down onto the bed. When the King moved to leave him, panic rose, one that had him reaching to grab at the King’s sleeve.
“Stay.” He didn’t want to think about anything right now, and there was only one thing to do when one wanted to stop thinking.
Min-jun kissed the King, teeth catching on his bottom lip. A bit sloppier than his usual kisses, but Min-jun wasn’t an amateur when it came to drunken encounters. He pulled back, and then pressed his lips to the King’s again. This time, the King responded, parting his lips, tongue slipping past Min-jun’s teeth. One of the King’s hands was on Min-jun’s hip, the other in his hair. And then, without warning the King pushed him away.
“My love, you’re shaking.” The King took his hands.
“Oh,” Min-jun said. Trembling hands weren’t such an anomaly to him.
“You seem frightened.” The King kissed his temple. “Let’s stop here. You’re drunk, after all.”
No, nonono. “We can’t stop here.” The thoughts had hardly calmed down. He needed to drown them out, just as Mother had taught him to. Just stop thinking about it. Through liquor or through sex. Whichever was available, and Hyun-woo had taken his liquor back at the festival.
“What is it?” the King asked. “What has got you so frightened?”
He wasn’t sure exactly. All Min-jun knew was that every now and then memories would resurface, and he did all he could to keep them down. Why? Why was he so scared?
“What did they do to you, Min-jun?”
Min-jun couldn’t leave the King’s embrace, his hands gripping the arm across his chest. “Did you put something in my drink?”
“My love, if I wanted to put something in your drink, I would’ve done so long ago.”
But I never said I was frightened of my memories. Whatever, the King could keep his secrets, and Min-jun would keep his mouth shut.
The King stroked his back as Min-jun laid against his chest.
“We can stay like this until it passes,” the King murmured into Min-jun’s hair, “so just endure it for now.”
Min-jun clenched a fist into the fabric of the King’s jeogori, his jaw tightening. No way in hell would he cry in front of this fiend.
He saw scenes he’d long forgotten about, as if they’d happened just yesterday. His first client, a man with green eyes who had found his ‘innocence’ enticing, pinning him against the wall with the promise of a handsome payment. An image of Haneul helping him clean up, putting Min-jun’s pastel robes back on over his shoulders. A strange confrontation with Mother that even this strange drink couldn’t bring into clarity. One after the other, until he felt almost numb to them.
“It’s alright,” the King whispered. “They’re just thoughts, like any other.”
“Seems you’re familiar with it.”
“I’ve had it happen to me a few times,” the King replied. “Would you like me to stop holding you?”
No. No, right now it felt like these arms were the only thing holding him together.
“I’m sorry.” The King’s soft apology would’ve made him angry under other circumstances, but he could hardly think straight. “I’m sorry for the hurt they caused you in my name.”
The memories stopped being so vivid, until they were merely an echo in the back of his mind. And as his thoughts quieted, Min-jun felt himself being lulled to sleep by the King’s touch. Before long, he’d fallen asleep, comforted by the smell of honey and earth, and the steady beat of another human heart.
. . .
Min-jun awoke in bed the next morning, the vestiges of his headache pricking needles into his skull. A hand went up to brush his hair out of his eyes, as he looked down at his sleeping companion.
“Alright, you bastard.” Min-jun leaned over to shake the King awake. “You have some explaining to do.” The King gave no sign that he heard him, opting to lay on his side, still fast asleep.
Strange the King was usually a light sleeper.
“Your Majesty?” Min-jun said, feeling cautious now as he noticed the uneven rise and fall of the King’s chest. Shallow, labored breathing. A thin sheen of sweat covered his flushed skin. Min-jun pressed his hand to the King’s forehead. Then his hands fell to the King’s wrist, where his pulse stayed steady. He lifted the sleeve up and felt his blood run cold. There, in black ink, a clock had been tattooed into the skin, along with a date and time.
Time’s Plague.
The King was going to die.
Min-Jun: “You can’t die!!! I mean, I have to kill you.” Wahhh!! The suspense!!!
😏 My favorite trope
Wait !!! What time does the watch show?!?!
I just binge read up to this point. It’s very good. Plenty of action to keep you engaged and wanting more.
Thank you so much for reading! I’m glad you enjoyed it and I hope you continue to enjoy it! ❤
Thanks for the chapter ♥️♥️
Well that’s will make it more easier to kill him, but I doubt he will… I’ll be waiting for his excuse to spare him
I thought the epidemic stopped, I even wondered whether the King decided to play out a dramatic performance. However, it might not be the case
Oh no!