CW: Explicit language, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of vomit.
A man with full, handsome features, paces the palatial room in agitation. His fine blue robes snap with every turn. Golden eyes narrow as he silently seethes, sock clad feet padding across the tatami flooring.
“Husband. Calm yourself.” She’s sitting by the open window and there’s a glimpse of luminescent blooms effusing an eerie glow in the night. Her exquisite face is impassive as she languidly brushes her brown tresses. Every now and then, she rubs the heavy bulge of her belly protectively. “Do you trust the words of others over those from your own wife?”
The man clicks his teeth together in anger, pausing to glare at her frigidly. “So you do care for fidelity?”
“But of course.”
“Then why are people talking?”
She smiles coldly and sets down the brush. “Idle court gossip, husband. Only last week there were rumours that Yujin had taken to dressing as man–”
“Lady Yujin Nam, yes. Let us speak of her for a moment.” His approach is fast and aggressive, coming to stand mere inches from her. The look he gives her is unfamiliar, as if she were nothing more to him than a stranger. “I have heard that she had returned recently from a trip to the South. She spent the summer solstice there, apparently visiting a sick relative.”
The woman’s eyes narrow subtly. She places both hands upon her belly, as if to shield her unborn child from her husband’s scorn. “That is most unfortunate.”
“Indeed. Moreso when I consider the fact that you were taking tea with the lady on the day of the Solar Festival.”
“Did you know that Baekgwang had been put down five weeks ago?”
He hesitates, frowning.
“Of course, you did not know,” she sighs, leaning back in her seat. “Yet when Lord Yanu expressed his desire to purchase your steed a year ago, you rode Baekgwang almost every day until you tired of it.”
A flash of anger scorches those goldens. “When we wed, you took my name, Jina. Do you know what that means?”
“You are a petty, possessive man, Hwan Sun, who sees his own wife as nothing more than a horse. Not even a favoured one at that.”
“I see you as my wife, who has a duty to be loyal and obedient to her husband–”
“Loyal and obedient. Ah, just like a domesticated beast.”
“Jina.” Sun snatches up her wrist, fingers white around her delicate bones. She barely suppresses a wince of pain. “Did I not save you and your House from ruin? Despite the derision from my peers, I still chose to marry you. Why would I debase myself for mere charity? I did it because I…I love you.” He trips over the loaded phrase, visibly sweating.
“And I debased myself to save my House,” she says, dryly. “Both of us entered this marriage for our own reasons, Sun, and love is not one of them. Do not try too hard to brand me. I was never yours to begin with.”
His grip tightens, turns bruising. This time, she doesn’t flinch. “Who is it?” he whispers, eyes narrowed to sharp slits.
“I will not play this game with you, husband.”
“Is the child even mine?” When his eyes flit down to her belly, she wrenches her hand free to shield the precious life within.
“You dare question my honour?” she hisses, blanching. “Do you think of your wife as nothing more than a common Rose?”
Sun grimaces, incredulity spread across his face. “Where were you during the solstice, Jina?”
“Zev and I attended the festival. We sampled stall food and I purchased a few trinkets. Do you not remember the charm I gave you?”
“Why did you tell me that you were visiting Yujin Nam?”
“It is human nature to forget, is it not?”
“You…forgot that she was in the South?”
“Yes.”
“And all those other times? Did you forget them too?”
Jina glares up at the lord, jaw set firmly. “Other times, husband?”
“I am the Governor of Hanjuyang. Think I do not have the means to track my own wife’s movements?”
“…you are being paranoid–”
“Utter another lie and I shall throw thee and thy House back into ruin!”
The force of his bellow rings in the shattered air, like the lingering echoes of sudden violence. Husband and wife glare at one another, neither willing to give up their determined stance.
“Come back, young masters! Don’t go in there–!”
The door slams open and two young boys race into the room, high pitched giggles and yells following their rapid footsteps. Rushing in behind them is a teenaged boy, cradling a swaddled baby in his arms.
“Forgive me, my lord! My lady!” he pants, flushed deeply from exertion. A rogue lock of white hair sticks to his sweaty brow. “The young masters wished to see you. I tried to stop them, but–’
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.
“Ktjcx sbe, Ifn,” Alcj tewr, afjglcu tfg uijgf ogbw tfg teryjcv. Lfg fzqgfrrlbc rboafcr ktfc rtf rffr Ifn agslcu ab mbcagbi tfg akb ecgeis rbcr. “Qf jgf olclrtfv tfgf. Jbwf jcv rla klat wf. Efra obg j ktlif. Qbeiv sbe ilxf rbwf afj?”
Ktf affcjufg oilcmtfr ecvfg atf Xbnfgcbg’r oglulv rajgf jcv tlr uglq lcfnlajyis ibbrfcr bc tlr sbecu mtjgufr. Ktfs afjg ogff jcv mijwyfg ab atflg wbatfg, ktb qgfrrfr tfg tjcvr jabq atflg tfjvr.
“Mother, look, I fell over and skinned my elbow!”
“Do you see this rock, mother? Do you not think it looks like Bora?”
“Eldest brother stole that rock from the gardens! I told him to put it back–”
“I didn’t steal anything, Ilsung. And anyway, it must be good luck. Do you think I should give it to Bora, Mother?”
“Mother, my elbow hurts. Zev blew on it but it’s still bleeding, see?”
“I have duties to attend to,” Sun says stiffly, straightening out his robes. He side-glances Jina, not bothering to look at her properly. “We will continue this conversation in the morning.”
He sweeps out of the room, brushing past his sons and his teenaged ward without a single glance.
Four pairs of eyes follow the first lord as he disappears into the dark halls outside. The quiet chirpings of the nightingale floor travel deep into the night.
The scene shifts and drips like melted paint upon a starchy canvas, colours and voices bleeding into an opaque entropy.
Fire.
A wild inferno blazes behind Rin, battering his back with furor. The palace is alight and crumbling to the ground. Servants and workers rush about with buckets of water, screaming, yelling, trying to contain the maddened beast that only knows to devour.
But he’s already walking down the three thousand steps, bare feet slippery with blood. He’s holding something, a heavy something, but he’s unable to look down. He’s transfixed on the sight before him, thousands, hundreds of thousands of people, civilians and soldiers alike, kowtowing in deference. Borne from fear. Borne from awe.
Soldiers in blue bow with their captors in red, many forced to their knees with a hard kick or a violent hand.
When he reaches the last step, a tall and sturdy soldier in red raises his head. They lock eyes, Rin’s crimson glare to the soldier’s soft browns. There’s a profound sense of deja vu that strikes him. This has happened before.
As if he were controlled by an unknown entity, Rin tosses the object in his hand. He catches sight of a decapitated head, soaring through the air before bouncing on the muddied ground and rolling over the escarpment.
A violent gale howls, screams, in response, washing over him in a cleansing wave.
No. Not a gale. Voices.
Voices rise to greet him, revere him, as their new emperor and god.
***
A light drizzle dampens the landscape, turning the desert humid and dreary. Rin saunters through the gardens regardless, letting the cold mist embrace his feverish body. A gut churning headache pounds behind his bloodshot eyes, and the taste of bile clings to his mouth no matter how many times he washes it out.
Snatches of the night prior inundate him as he walks. Drinks. Zev. The Governor. The Mother. Erie pouring him cup after cup after cup. The swell of vomit. The raucous laughter. Jun’s disgusted expression. Crippling humiliation and desperation.
And there, by the lacebark tree, he clung onto Jun, near mad from terror. It hadn’t been the same kind of terror he had experienced in the Church. No, this terror was bone deep and menacing. As if he were being carved out from the inside out and made entirely hollow.
It wasn’t dissimilar to how he felt in the Training Room. That accursed emptiness. The nothing.
It was, and is, utterly unendurable.
Rin sighs and sits in a small yet elegant pavilion, surrounded by colourful spring blossoms. He reclines on the cushioned seating, shoulders propped up against a wooden post. Exhaustion and sickness pulls at his body and mind, lulling him into a fitful doze. He doesn’t notice the other person gliding into the pavilion and quietly joining him on the seat, sitting tall and regal with a sheer veil draped over her head.
Rain sweeps across the greenery with the lazy winds. The light drumming against the sloped hip roof and the steady drips from the gables are accompanied by the delicate calls of a song thrush. Rin would have fallen deeper into sleep, eased by this serene atmosphere, if not for the sound of soft humming. A woman’s voice.
He opens his eye and sees the Mother sitting mere inches away, frightfully imposing in her enigmatic visage. Heart leaping into his throat, he bolts upright. “Mother! I-I mean, the Mother!” he blurts out in a panic.
The hum morphs into soft laughter, every huff disturbing the delicate fabric of her veil. “That I am, young Rin. Did I disturb your rest?”
“No…it’s-it’s fine.” The youth exhales sharply and rubs his bleary eye, the brief rush of adrenaline tapering out into a general uneasiness. How strange it is to see her so close. Before, she had either been at a distance or behind a curtain of glass beads. But now she suddenly seems…real.
“You do not look well.” She tilts her head subtly as she studies his shoddy appearance.
“It’s called a hangover.”
“I am familiar with this term.”
“My mistake. I didn’t think bluebloods could get hungover.” Then, remembering himself, he quickly adds, “Your Majesty.”
“Bluebloods?” He can hear the smile in her voice. “Despite what you may think, young Rin, us bluebloods are very much human. Much like yourself.”
“Hm. Not everyone thinks that.” Rin runs a hand through his unruly hair, absently trying to tame it.
“No. They do not.”
“Isn’t there supposed to be an assembly or something?” While he didn’t mind conversing awkwardly with the Empress of the Four Territories, he’s also much too addled and sick to endure even her presence. What I wouldn’t give for a cold cup of wine and a nice long soak.
“It has been a while since I last saw the rains, so I ended the assembly ahead of schedule.”
Jun must be busy attending to business with the Governor then. Or perhaps he doesn’t want to see Rin at all. The thought makes him exceedingly glum and he hunches over, propping his elbows onto his knees.
And as if she could read his mind, the Mother says, “You were in quite a state at the banquet. There were complaints made against you at the assembly.”
“Complaints?” His lips twist into a hard grimace.
“All directed to Hwan Sun. He seems most displeased.”
“He’s displeased about a lot of things.”
“And yet, if you had remained after midnight, your little incident pales in comparison.” The Mother gazes out the pavilion, watching a small thrush bathing in the rain. “There is much hypocrisy in my court. Hwan Sun, of course, is not immune.”
“I know that well,” the raven scoffs, clasping his hands together. “And you? Are you a hypocrite too?”
“No. How could I be?”
“Very easily.”
“I am the only truth there is. Anything and everything else is irrelevant.”
“….” It’s a nasty jolt, when he’s suddenly reminded of who he’s speaking with. “Sure. The only truth.”
“Do not despair, young Rin. Hwan Sun sees much potential in you.”
“…He does?” Rin blinks at the Mother, incredulous. “What kind of potential?” He, much like anyone else, has potential for any number of things. The vast majority not something he’d be very keen on pursuing.
“I am sure he will cultivate your talents,” is the Empress’ vague response.
“Ah. Yeah, I can be pretty useful, I suppose. But I don’t think the Governor knows how to utilise me properly.”
“Is that so?”
Rin huffs, jiggling a leg nervously. “He’s slow to act, you know. I gave him good intel and so far he’s done shit–I mean, he’s done nothing.”
“I assume this is regarding the Rose Palace?”
“You know?”
“I do.”
“And?” Irritated seeps through in a sharp tone. He dulls the edge by adding, “Your Majesty?” Futile.
“And I believe he is correct in his judgement–”
“Doctor Euan Stone,” he says, daring to cut her off. “You know this guy?”
“Should I?” she says, just as curt.
“He goes by Father Blossom these days. Told me that he’s experimenting on humans under your orders.”
“That is most unfortunate.”
“Why would he say that?”
“To many, I am their god. I am as ubiquitous as Solaris.”
His face flinches into a sneer before he can bring his expression under control. “If you know about Rose Palace, then you know about Blossom. You know what he’s done.”
“I have been informed.”
“And you think Blossom and Kahin should be left alone?”
“I believe that I am far too busy to deal with petty squabbles between petty men. And that I had appointed Hwan Sun to manage Hanjuyang for a very good reason.” Her cold tone sends a chill down his spine, sucking the life from his retort. He swallows hard and leans back, stilling his restless leg.
Rin gets the distinct feeling that to push the Mother any further would incur her wrath. And to do so might mean his death. Or worse.
So he tactfully (and wisely) decides to drop it.
“…why the Hwans?”
The tense atmosphere eases like a taut rubber band released.
“The House of Hwan has long served the imperial line,” she responds, smoothly. “My ancestors have always had a Hwan by their side, whether in the palace or on the battlefield, or as a diplomat and crown representative. Hwan Sun is mine. And when the Crown Prince takes the throne, the four Hwan brothers will be his. I trust in their abilities to serve us well. Much like their ancestors.”
Rin clenches his jaw, stifling a sudden swell of prickly anger. “Do they get any say in this arrangement?”
“They are born to serve us. There is nothing else they need consider.”
What did he expect from the bluest of bluebloods? Perhaps there had been a small part of him that had hoped that the Empress would be above it all. A childish hope projected upon a figure he had always subconsciously deified.
“Everyone has a role to play, right?” he says, dryly.
“Indeed.” She tilts her head in agreement, ignoring his sardonic tone. “Every one of my beloved subjects is born to serve us. You yourself wish to become a Silversword, do you not? An admirable service to the crown and our people.”
Our people. He tastes something rancid in his mouth. It isn’t bile. “I changed my mind,” he says, flippantly. “I just want to be a bum in the Slums, drinking and fu–sleeping around all day. I’m quite lazy, you see.”
The Empress’ smile reaches him through the veil. It’s breath-taking, even as it’s dampened by the sheer fabric. “I think you are far too ambitious for such an idle life, young Rin. I should like to hear the truth. If not as a Silversword, how would you spend this lifetime? What do you wish to achieve?”
He hesitates, noticing the sincere curiosity in her tone. The youth rubs his nape and glances away, suddenly feeling rather exposed. For once, he decides to be honest. “Like I said before, I want the freedom to do what I want. So…I suppose I want to be someone who’s powerful. Someone that people won’t even think of trying to control.”
“That is very ambitious,” the Mother hums, leaning back in thought. “Ambitious and utterly unattainable. No matter how powerful you are, you will always have another imposing their will upon you.”
“Even you?”
“But of course. Even I must answer to the gods.”
“Why must you? You’re the most powerful person in the Four Territories. And I don’t see the gods down here, forcing their will on you. What’s the point of sitting on that throne if you can’t do what you want?”
“It is a duty, young Rin, and an obligation. The Hino line has long served the people and the gods.”
“If I were you, I’d make the Ministers do all the work and just do whatever I want. You’re the only truth, right? That’s like being able to change reality with a single word.”
“There is risk in change. And many are not seen until after the fact. To make any decision as the crown is as heavy as the lives of all Four Territories. It is a burden one cannot endure without proper instruction and cultivation.”
Rin twists his lips and huffs through his nose, propping his back against the post. “I didn’t know you cared so much.”
“While it may seem like freedom to you, young Rin, the crown bears much responsibility.” She hums a laugh and slides her hands into her flowing sleeves. Every movement she makes is impossibly graceful. “I appreciate your youthful enthusiasm. However, the reality is that if you were to take the crown from me this instant, you would fall by dusk. The Hinos are born and raised to be on the throne. You were born and raised to walk the three thousand steps.”
“Who’s raising who?” he scoffs, folding his arms flush against his chest. “I raised myself and I sure as shit didn’t know about the three thousand steps until I was forced to climb them.”
The Mother tilts her head. “Your mother and father, they did not raise you?”
“Not at all. Not even for a day. Useless mother and absent father, remember?” His tongue trips over the word ‘useless’, inexplicable guilt squeezing his chest. Despite the fact that Dasom had been useless as a mother, it’s too strange to call her as such now. For whatever reason.
“Where is your father?”
“Out West somewhere. Apparently.”
“Out West…” The Empress falls silent for a while and the drumming rain takes the fore. Eventually, she rouses herself and says, “You do not remember him?”
“No. I only know what my mother told me.”
“What has she told you?”
“Delusions. Wishes. Nothing that was remotely true.”
“How do you know the truth of him if you do not know him?”
“Because the kind of man Dasom described wouldn’t have left us to rot in the Slums.” Despite her rages and curses against her husband, Dasom still painted the picture of a valiant man, who had rescued her like a knight in shining armour. But whoever that guy was, Rin couldn’t associate him with his father.
The Mother slides close and peers at him, angling her body until their faces are mere inches apart. Rin stares at her, uneasily, the fine hairs on his nape rising as he feels her intense stare upon his visage.
“You are remarkably ugly,” she breathes, veil fluttering with every word. “And yet, the hunger in you is remarkably beautiful. People are naturally drawn to you.”
Rin frowns tightly as he leans away, the back of his skull knocking into the post. “…yeah. Sure. People love me. How could they not?” By his weak tone, he doesn’t seem at all convinced by his own words.
“Those injuries. Who gave them to you?”
“…no-one gave them to me.”
“You are brazen to show such a face in court. There are some who find you offensive to look at.”
Rin grits his teeth, ire stirring. “Then they shouldn’t look. It’s very simple.”
“Indeed. They seem to have forgotten about the late Emperor Hino Solaris. There are those who call my father the Mad Emperor because of his deep obsessions. He had taken Solaris’ name and deluded himself into thinking he was the sun god himself. My father would only take servants who bore burns, calling them the blessed, marked by his flames.” She reaches up, hovering her slender fingers over the wounded side of his face. Fingertips so close, he can feel her heat. He barely suppresses a shudder. “You are blessed, young Rin. Blessed and endowed with great power. You are worth more than those who dare raise their voices against you. You are worth more than the blood spilled in my name. More than the Four Territories combined. Your worth is immeasurable.”
Hot fingers graze over his puckered skin and a violent eruption of screams splits his head in twain. Unbridled, voluble, they cease to be sounds and annex reality, and he scatters into infinitesimal bits, mere objects without soul nor mind. If his own scream joins the howling, he’s simply unaware, as he’s no longer tethered to this body. He bears witness to the very extremes of human suffering and depravity, the asomatous observer, entangled and besieged.
Eternal torment is in reality but a second, and Luna’s radiance bursts through his head, aggressively quashing the voices like rapids to a meager flame–
When he comes to, he’s hardly moved from his spot, sitting stiffly as the Mother caresses his scarred cheek. By the gentle smile he spies through her veil, she’s not noticed anything strange.
Blanching, Rin tears himself away from her touch, stumbles out of the pagoda as he deliriously mumbles an excuse, and he runs, sprints, faster than he’d ever run, because he knows, he knows, that whoever, or whatever, is sitting in the pagoda cannot be human.
It’s a monster, far more dangerous than he, with a million souls fueling its ravenous core.
Interestiiiing 🧐🧐🧐🧐 (finally a chapter where i don’t want to kill anyone, but not for long i guess)
LMAOOO ermmmm uhhhh
looks at next chapter
sweats profusely
Wah-!!!! What happened??? So many mysterious things (‘◉⌓◉’)
Thank you for the chapter!! ❤️❤️
d/w you will get answers soon ^3^ Thank you for reading!!!! <333