Cheol watched as his consort, face still painted, rushed back toward the well. In his arms, he held a basin full of an assortment of bottles and jars, which he placed in the grass near the well. Min-jun pulled at the rope, the muscles of his exposed forearms straining. A bucket full of water rose, and the man promptly spilled most of it on himself, cursing all the while.
He poured the remaining water into the basin and proceeded to dab the liquids in the bottles onto a white cloth, which he lifted to his face, rubbing gently at first. It didn’t take long for his patience to wither and his motions to become more aggressive, living the skin reddened and little else. Min-jun pouted, puffing out his cheeks and tossing the cloth back on the side of the basin.
Adorable.
He shouldn’t leave his meditation just to bother Min-jun more, but alas, Cheol found it hard to resist his beautiful consort. Without a second thought, Cheol jumped down from the gate, landing quietly in the grass below. He approached Min-jun, taking care not to make a sound and startle him. He peered down into the basin over Min-jun’s shoulder, bent at the waist. Below him, Min-jun sat on the stone pavement next to the well, mixing a few of the liquids together.
“You wouldn’t happen to be working on my impending death now, would you?” Cheol joked. That was enough to get Min-jun’s attention. He froze, gaze shifting to look into the reflection in the basin. His head whipped around to face Cheol, annoyance plain on his face.
He looked beautiful in the moonlight, his face glistening from the water and oils. Ah, that wasn’t so surprising. Min-jun had always had an ethereal sort of beauty, one that felt misplaced among the regular crowds. One could stare at him all day without growing tired. How could anyone ever hope to put a price on it? Through the sheen, Cheol could make out the cosmetics he was so desperately trying to remove. Min-jun’s lips had been painted a deep shade of pink, almost red, with a dusting of gold to bring a shimmer to them. The apples of his cheeks had been brushed with pink, creating a light, healthy blush on his skin. His eyelids had been shaded with a lighter shade of pink, shimmering in the scant light. He was a sight to behold, and Cheol wanted nothing more than to covet that beauty.
A sliver of a smile passed Min-jun’s lips, there and gone in a split second. Cheol had been staring for too long. Min-jun turned his back to him. “I’m afraid not.”
Without a word of protest from Min-jun, Cheol took his spot next to him. “Careful, I might begin to think you’re taking a shine to me.”
Min-jun returned to mixing his little potion, his movements meticulous. “I’ll do my best to relieve you of your concerns.”
“Where did you learn to make these strange concoctions?” he asked. “It’s a cleanser for cosmetics, yes?”
A pointed look was all it took for Cheol to drop the subject. The pieces quickly clicked together. Min-jun must’ve applied and removed his own cosmetics when he’d worked at the brothel.
“Did you apply the one that’s on your face as well?”
“Perhaps I did.”
Liar. “What for?”
“Can’t a man look his best anymore?” Min-jun asked, bringing the cloth to his face again.
Cheol leaned back against the wall of the well, elbow resting on his knee. “Keeping secrets, as always. I’m starting to think you don’t trust me, my love.”
A bit of rouge scrubbed off on the cloth, and for a brief moment, Cheol saw something like triumph flicker across Min-jun’s face. A brief smile, a gleam in his eyes, his posture gaining back its usual confidence.
How pretty he is, when he’s not absolutely miserable. Not that Min-jun didn’t wear his misery well, eyes glazed over, a slight crease between his brows, his whole body seeming to be pulled down. But he didn’t look like the Min-jun from Cheol’s past, a boy who smiled with the slightest of cues.
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 wonder . . .
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“Perhaps I’d like to ask them for some pointers.”
“Pointers,” Min-jun scoffed. “Don’t bother. They’re all either dead or assholes. Nothing to learn from either.”
But Cheol wasn’t – oh. He was in the latter category, wasn’t he? Tsk, so much for a romantic reunion. It would appear that Min-jun still hadn’t gotten over their estrangement. What would Min-jun say if he knew? ‘What? You thought I’d just fall into your arms?’
He would never take Cheol’s word for it. But surely, if he convinced him, Min-jun would begin to reconsider his position. All it took was the proper evidence.
. . . Eight Years Ago . . .
They were in their usual meeting spot by the creek, sitting by the edge of the water, at the cusp of spring. The wind had lost some of its wintry bitterness, carrying the scent of blossoms. Beside him, the boy gazed down at the pin in Cheol’s hand. A silver binyeo, its end carved into the shape of lily flowers holding a small pink stone. Instantly, those brown eyes lit up with joy. In the short time they’ve known one another, Cheol had learned the boy had a fondness for pretty things – clothes, flowers, leatherbound journals from the bookshop not far from here. He cared not whether the trinkets were crafted for men or women, Cheol’s little lover would wear it all the same if it suited his tastes.
His hands hovered over the pin. Then, he frowned, withdrawing those slender fingers. He crossed his arms, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“I thought you said you didn’t have any money.”
Cheol grinned. Too cute. “A friend lent me some. Don’t worry.” He leaned in a bit, his tone teasing. “I didn’t steal it.”
The boy tilted his head to the side, skeptical. His eyes softened after a moment more, and he gently took the pin from Cheol, that smile returning. Cheol could feel his heart stutter every time the boy smiled, the corners of his mouth dimpling, an excited glimmer shining in his eyes. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”
Cheol lied back in the grass, resting his head on his arms. “See, I told you I had a knack for giving gifts.”
The boy joined him in the grass, letting out a breath as he held the pin up to the light. “You do. Wish you could give my parents some pointers. All mom ever buys me is books about criminal theory.”
“I thought you liked investigating.”
The boy’s grimace deepened. “Yeah, I like actually doing it. Theory is boring.”
“What of your father?”
The hand holding the pin fell back into the grass, as the boy groaned. “He acts like I’m still five. All he buys me are children’s toys from the marketplace.” The boy flipped onto his stomach, resting his chin on his hand. “What about you? Have you inherited that knack for gifts from your parents?”
Cheol snorted. His father’s gifts have been subpar thus far. His mother’s death, plus a witch hunt on the side. Any good humor he had vanished then, and it must’ve shown, because that crinkle was back between the boy’s eyebrows. Cheol played with the tail of that long, ink-colored braid, earning a pretty blush across those freckled cheeks.
“My mother would give me flowers from her garden, and cook my favorite meals. We didn’t have much, but I never really craved anything more.”
The boy’s eyes widened a fraction, as the realization struck him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”
“They’re not bad.”
The boy’s mouth hung open. Then, he swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing. “So, what happened to them?”
“My mother died when I was a child. My father is still alive.” Unfortunately.
The boy smiled. though it was melancholy now. “You say that as if you weren’t still a child.” He laid his head down in the crook of his arms, grass tickling his cheek. “You’re only a year older than I, and I feel no older than I was a year ago.”
It was true. A loving family seemed to make all the difference. The boy had none of the scars that Cheol boasted. Perhaps, Hye-jin was right. Getting his lover mixed into all of this was a bad idea. Cheol couldn’t help it. Every time he told himself to break things off and never return, he found himself back at the creek discussing everything but the possibility of separation. Truthfully, Cheol wanted nothing more than to keep the boy by his side forever.
“You know.” The boy had gone back to inspecting the pin. “They say binyeo can capture the wearer’s soul.” His body twisted toward Cheol, until he was lying on his side. “Do you intend to take my spirit, Ha-jun?”
Of course, he’d go for the least romantic interpretation. “It’s also a groom’s gift.”
“Oh please, we’re too young for such nonsense. Besides, marriage is a sham. Why would I need a ceremony to show I love a person.”
“They’re to bind you to them.”
The boy hacked out a triumphant laugh. “You see, either way, the pin means the same thing.”
If Cheol were ever to find fault in the boy, it would be his staunch refusal to see the romance in anything. The boy stared at Cheol from up above, propped up on his elbows, lying on his stomach. A breeze brushed at the stray strands of hair framing his face. When Cheol tilted to face him, the boy quickly averted his eyes, biting down on his lower lip as another blush of pink spread across his cheeks.
“Could you?” He hesitated, clutching the pin to his chest.
“Yes?”
The boy ran a hand through his smooth braid and pursed his lips. “Well.” He coughed to clear his throat. “Well, I was wondering if you could . . . put it in for me?”
It didn’t take long for the blood to rush to Cheol’s cheeks. The boy wanted Cheol to touch him? To style his hair? Cheol knew how much work the boy put into making sure every single strand and coil was in its proper place. To be given permission to rearrange it . . .
Blushing harder, the boy sat up, his hands clutching the fabric of his baji. “Y-you don’t have to. I’m sorry. Th-that was stupid of me.”
“No.” Cheol shot up, hands clawing at the grass. He lowered his voice upon seeing the boy’s startled expression. “No, it’s alright. I can put it in for you.”
The boy ran another nervous hand through his hair, his shoulders tense. With that pink blush unfading, the boy shifted around so his back was to Cheol. The world around them seemed to pause for a moment, and it was just the two of them here, growing ever closer. Cheol’s hands trembled a bit as he ran his fingers down the braid, his skin making contact with the back of the boy’s neck. He’s warm.
With careful, measured movements, he coiled the hair into a bun. Once, twice, thrice, each layer twisting into the other in a fashion similar to that of a married woman. Though, of course, the boy was neither a woman nor married. And, as with clothes and accessories, the boy cared not for such distinctions. The only thing that put him off was imperfection, so Cheol had to make sure this was immaculate.
With a twist, the end of the braid was pulled through the back. Cheol reached a hand over the boy’s shoulder to ask for the pin, his voice having abandoned him long ago. Gently, he needled the pin through the bun, securing it into place.
“There.”
The boy brought a hand up to pat at the hair.
“Do you think it makes me look old?” Those brown eyes centered on him, intent on getting an honest answer out of him.
Old? He didn’t look much different from before. Same plump cheeks, same heart-shaped face, same warm-toned eyes.
“You look wonderful.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.” The boy pouted. On his lap, he wrung his fingers together. And then, without warning, those hands rose to cup Cheol’s face, and the boy leaned in to press their lips together in a soft, chaste kiss.
It went as quickly as it came, the boy jumping away as if he’d been burned. Burned by his own bashfulness, perhaps. Cheol let an easy smile slide onto his face, even as his heart pounded in his ears.
“I guess you like it then, huh?”
The boy nodded, face hidden behind his hands.
“I’m glad.”
. . . Present Day . . .
It was a matter of days before Min-jun threw the pin back in his face, shortly after having pushed him into the creek. Cheol wasn’t particularly sentimental, especially where romances were concerned. Furthermore, Cheol’s advisors had convinced him to leave that love in the past, along with his memories. Yet, he was certain the hairpin hadn’t been disposed of. But where could he have put it? Ah, Cheol should’ve known this would come back to torment him in the future.
Another thing to add to the list, then. Running a nation could be so tedious sometimes.
A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I didn’t have much time to edit with Thanksgiving on the horizon, but I hope it was still worth your time. If you liked this chapter, please leave a comment down below. Also, in lieu of Inksgiving on Tapas, I will be updating every day for the first week of December!
Min Jun’s make up sounded perfect for him, highlighting his beauty further.
Their childhood romance sounds so sweet
Thank you for the chapter
WHAT THE HECK THEY WERE SO SWEET AND CUTE TOGETHER AS TEENAGERS 🥺🥺
Thanks for the chapter ♥️♥️
Poor Min-Jun, so pampered and innocent before the brothel experience. I wonder why he doesn’t recognize Cheol.