“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” The look in his eyes told Min-jun that he certainly understood.
“Don’t deflect. I know all the different ways a person can fall in love. I don’t see what you stand to gain from it. Even a lovestruck man can kill. I’d say he’s even more likely to.” Min-jun’s fingers found a pebble in the stone, tracing its edges. A cold wind rustled through the branches of the great oak above them, carrying some of the tree’s leaves with it. The King reached out, as one of the leaves fluttered down, a little blur of burnt orange, to rest in his palm. Min-jun waited for the leaf to change somehow, to echo the King’s power, but it remained the same vibrant color.
“He’s also more likely to kill for you.”
When Min-jun lifted his gaze up, the King had a chuckle ready on his lips.
“Hypothetically speaking, of course. I would never ask you to kill for me.”
Ask? So, if Min-jun somehow wound up killing someone and that murder benefitted the King, who was he to complain? Where had Min-jun heard that one before?
“I am merely telling you that if vengeance is what you seek, then I will be able to lend you a hand.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I think we’d both rather be left alone right now.” That was back when the grief was still fresh in his lungs, coughing up a sob around every corner. Min-jun had thought the King’s comeuppance could come later, perhaps by a different person’s hand. Someone heroic and brave and intelligent. Not sixteen and scared and barely able to scrape by in life. Circumstances changed when Su-jin’s illness suddenly worsened. What could he have done? Mother gave him an offer he couldn’t bear to refuse.
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.
Letting out a sigh, Min-jun tipped his head back. “I truly can’t stand you, Your Majesty. You have a long and difficult road ahead, if you wish to bring be to your side.”
“Po sbe mbeivc’a rajcv wf, sbe’v jnblv wf, yea ibbx ja sbe.” Ktf Blcu’r olcufgr ygertfv tlr tjcv. “Tbe mbeivc’a fnfc yglcu sbegrfio ab lucbgf wf cbk.”
Obculcu ab klqf atja fjufg uglc boo atf Blcu’r ojmf, Zlc-pec abrrfv atf qfyyif ja tlw. Pa vlv cbatlcu, rlwqis rjlilcu qjra jr atf Blcu vbvufv la klat fjrf.
The King leaned in once more with that same self-satisfied, toothy smile. “You’re going to have to do better than that if you want to kill me.”
Though their noses were a mere breath apart, Min-jun didn’t lean away, narrowing his eyes to a glare. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Hmm, I have other temptations I’d rather entice you with.”
Perhaps he would’ve leaned in had he not just visited the Kisaeng house, but the memories still felt fresh, and so he opted for another route. Min-jun pushed a hand into his face, warm breath on his fingertips. The King pouted against his skin, his hand rising to take Min-jun’s. Min-jun shoved him away and moved to jump off the gate.
The King let him go, returning to his meditation, his body appearing to meld into his surroundings as he had before, as if he belonged to the earth itself. Another symptom of his Gift, no doubt.
. . .
The apartment was quiet, the pine floors swept, the tables cleared of food and drink. The windows had been left open, allowing a cool breeze to rustle through the home. The candles were lit in their lanterns, illuminating the home in that same warm, dusky glow. Hyun-woo sat on the floor, flipping through the pages of one of Min-jun’s old mystery books. Underneath the window, Mai had fallen asleep in her bed, a book still clutched in her hands.
Hyun-woo spared him a quick glance, intending to return to his work, but then his head jerked back. His eyes widened, jaw dropping. “What happened to your face?”
Min-jun let out a low, dissatisfied noise, something of a groan, as he touched his painted cheek. “Something rather unpleasant.”
Gently, Hyun-woo slid the book back into its place on the shelf. He coughed to clear his throat, a light blush dusting his face, his other hand rubbing at his neck. “I thought you’d gone to drop Kang Hye off at his house.”
“Right.” Min-jun poured himself a cup of tea, though his hand itched to grab the jar of soju Hyun-woo thought he could keep hidden from him. “Speaking of Kang Hye, I’m going to need you to back me up tomorrow.”
Hyun-woo gave him a cautious look. “Back you up on what?”
“I need to convince Eok-gi to let Kang Hye’s mother stay in his mansion.” Min-jun downed the cup, grimacing at its tastelessness. It was lukewarm at best, but at least there were no hidden medicines inside of it. “If she stays in that hovel they live in, it’ll all be for naught.”
Hyun-woo took the pot of tea and put it on the stove again, a dying fire in the oven, all while muttering something about lazy bastards. A smile tugged on Min-jun’s mouth. He bit down on his lower lip to keep it at bay. In the two years he’d spent living with Hyun-woo, he had become accustomed to his presence. It felt a little bit like a home to be here with him. It was a pity they’d have to part soon.
“Will you pay him for that as well?” Hyun-woo asked, face full of doubt.
“I’ll repay him in gratitude.” Min-jun knelt down next to Mai’s bed, tugging the book out from under her hand and pulling the covers back up to her chin. Nights in Wolgwang City could get quite chilly. He turned back to Hyun-woo. “Besides, Eok-gi’s always been big on charity.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
“Dae-yeong even more so. If we get him on our side, Eok-gi will have to agree to it.” After all, one glance from Dae-yeong and Eok-gi seemed ready to offer up everything to the boy: his status, his life, and most eagerly, his body. Dae-yeong clearly reciprocated, if all his longing looks were anything to go by. Ah, when would they stop tip-toeing around one another? It was nearly painful to watch. Min-jun was getting tired just thinking of it.
Min-jun looked down at the book in his hands. ‘The Singers of Bi Mountain’. Quite advanced for a child, but Mother had always taken every necessary step to educate them properly. Oh, Min-jun remembered the endless nights of studying poetry and literature and historical records.
He crossed the room to place the book back on the shelf and then touched his hand to his face once more. It was getting sticky now. Song would have to work harder to perfect this formula.
“I’d better get this off my face.” Who knows what would happen if it stayed on any longer? These experiments of Song’s could be quite unpredictable. After ransacking the kitchen for ingredients – oil, witch hazel, anything to get this off his face – he grabbed a clean cloth from the cabinets and gathered all of his findings in a large basin.
“Hyun-woo, open the door for me.”
A/N: A bit of a shorter chapter this time around, because this was the best stopping point. I hope you enjoyed it anyway! Let me know what you think in the comment section below!
Ohoo…
Whaaaa! I was hoping for a description of Min Jun’s make up 😭
+1
+1
don’t give up hope just yet 😌
Thanks for the chapter ♥️♥️
Loved it, as always. Thanks for the chapter!!