CW: Explicit language, ableist language, gore, violence, graphic sexual content, drug use, alcohol abuse.
Twilight rapidly descends upon the land, sinking into every pore with its indulgent hues and chilly Luna grace. The junkyard loses its borders and gains misshapen silhouettes; lumpish giants in suspension, entr’acte.
Two figures make their way through the junkyard, both dressed in frayed Northern work clothes. The shorter is svelte and pale, wearing his unruly hair in a loose braid that’s slung over a shoulder. His companion moves swiftly for his size, stalwartly dogging the other’s light footsteps.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” the smaller one says, pausing by a broken table to catch his breath. Or rather, delaying their encroaching confrontation, under the guise of catching his breath. “It’s too dangerous if he finds out who you are.”
“However would he find out?” The taller man sends a grin to his companion, making the latter flush. “I have donned the proper uniform and we have spent the past few hours fabricating a robust alias for myself. Bijan Azar, an orphaned ruffian from the Western town of Reshun, seeking refuge and glory in Hanjuyang.”
Rin sighs and props his bum on the edge of the table. The splintered wood creaks in protest. Bijan Azar may be an orphaned ruffian, but everything else about him screams Western Princeling.
“You gotta lose the accent,” he tells the excitable lord. “Lose the accent and try to look less…”
“Less…?” Goldens blink.
“Less…rugged.”
“Rugged?” Jun glances down at his shoddy attire. “I think I am sufficiently rugged. Is there anything else I can do to–”
“Not dirty. I mean, you are. Dirty. But you’re also…do you not know what you look like? Haven’t you ever looked in a mirror?!” Rin tugs at his braid in exasperation.
The clueless lord knits his brows. He brings a hand to his face subconsciously. “But of course I know what I look like, Rinnie. Is there something wrong with my face?”
“What?” Rin snaps, eye growing twofold. “No! There’s nothing wrong with your damn face. That’s the fucking problem.”
He exhales sharply and slaps his palms on the lord’s cheeks. Jun hunches down to his lover’s eye level.
“Here,” Rin continues, pushing his thumbs around those pristine features as if he were moulding clay. “You just gotta twist your face up a bit. Try leering like you’re an old perv. Or at least raise your shoulders a bit more. Don’t look so confident. Like when we were infiltrating the Church, remember?”
Jun relaxes as Rin gives him an impromptu facial massage. His goldens shimmer and pour over the raven’s focused visage.
“I remember. Shamble and grunt.”
“Yeah, you got it.” Rin’s smile is like dawn breaking over the horizon, and it stuns Jun for a moment. “Oh, that’s a good expression. You look really stupid right now.”
Indeed, as Jun grunts and shambles his way after Rin, he does appear like a ponderous lout, seamlessly adapting to his surroundings.
“I still don’t think it’s a good idea. I can do this by myself. I’m more than capable.”
“I know you are, Rinnie. But I wish to assist you. If I am to be by your side, then I must be there for you in all aspects. Anyway, this is what we do in a relationship.”
“Is it?” The raven side-glances Jun with pursed lips.
“Yes. In a committed relationship, one must be willing to share one’s burdens and help carry in their partner’s. What kind of partner would I be if I let you deal with this by yourself?”
Partners. Is that what we are? Rin tugs on his braid, uneasily. His steps slow and falter. “I dunno much about…stuff like that. So it doesn’t matter to me what you do.”
“Is that right?” Jun’s tone takes on a sudden sharpness. “Regardless of how you feel about my presence, I will continue to support you. So you must adjust to this new reality.”
“…Fine.” The raven digs his teeth into his lower lip, swelling it with blood. Lately, the lord has been more assertive, proving himself to be as obstinate as the Rat – if not moreso. There’s no point in trying to shake the guy off, especially when he’s made up his mind.
Rin appreciates his newfound confidence…but sometimes it can be a pain in the ass.
“What was Bellow’s state when you visited the Clinic this afternoon?” Jun enquires, slowing his steps to accompany Rin’s.
“He was awake,” Rin grumbles, expression dour. “He lost a few teeth and broke some ribs, but the worst of it was the head wound. He’s gonna be okay though. Probably a bit dumber than before, if you’d believe it possible.”
“And Small? Is he badly injured?”
“His leg’s broken. He ain’t gonna walk right for the rest of his life. That’s what Iris said before she socked me in the gut.”
Jun notices the tightness in the raven’s jaw. The way he curls up his fists until his knuckles turn white.
Rin shrugs off Jun’s comforting touch with a jerk of his shoulder, but he seems a bit calmer for it. “We’re gonna get back at him,” he seethes, glaring down at the white symbols floating in his ring. “He sent me a message loud and clear. So we gotta respond, right?”
“Right,” Jun affirms with confidence. “We cannot have a man like that rule over the Slums.”
“This one’s a long con, little lord.” Rin gives a wicked grin, more anger than mirth. “I’ll be joining the Marquis as his Marchioness and playing him until I can rip him from his throne. Could be a while before I’m yours again. Reckon you got the patience for it?”
“I once waited six months for you,” Jun says, calmly. “Of course I have the patience.”
A small fist catches the lord in the upper arm, sending him stumbling into a dangerous wood heap.
***
The Hounds have gathered in the inner courtyard for their nightly carousal. Rough melodies from discarded instruments, tuned with unskilled hands, serve as a rocky base to the cacophony of hollers, singing, and sporadic fights. Bottles fly past their heads as they move towards the main entrance, but neither of the targets flinch.
Rin wriggles his fingers at the leering Hounds, winking and puckering his lips provocatively. His noble companion simply lurches at his side, face twisted into an ugly lour. Even though he exerts his best efforts, the lord’s charm still ekes through his disguise, catching stray eyes left and right.
“Isn’t that the Rat?” A thrawny Hound yelps as she headlocks her opponent during their scuffle. “Come to grovel at the boss’ feet have you?”
“The Rat? Nah, he ain’t the Rat. Lookit that fucking face!”
Laughter scatters through the party and nips at the couple’s heels. Rin laughs the loudest and tosses his braid over his shoulder. His other hand comes to clasp Jun’s twitching fingers, squeezing tightly in warning.
“Whether I have a face like this or not, my mouth is still the best mouth in Hanjuyang,” the Rat lilts, a small skip in his step. “Or have you forgotten, Happy?” He pauses mid-step as he addresses the last speaker. “How you called for ‘mama’? ‘Salvame mama! Estoy muriendo!’ Oh, how you quivered and cried like a little bitch–”
Happy staggers to his feet, bottle raised like a weapon in his hand as his brethren roar with laughter.
“Estoy muriendo!”
“Oi, Happy, how is your mama gonna save you? Pop your balls so you don’t nut no more?”
“Shit, you cried? Ain’t you ever been blown before?”
“Happy got really happy, huh?”
“With a mug like that, he’s not ever gonna be happy again!”
A fresh wave of howls swells around the red-faced Hound, who promptly tosses his bottle at his guffawing neighbour before stalking off through the gate.
The couple take this opportunity to slip inside, hands clasped tightly together.
Jun feels the raven’s clammy palm and the subtle tremour in his digits. He squeezes his hand reassuringly and leans down, bringing his lips to Rin’s ear. “I admire you more and more everyday,” he rumbles, softly.
Rin stifles a shiver down his spine. He raises his shoulder to rub at his tingling ear, grateful for the sudden gloom. “Just talking shit,” he mutters, heart thumping painfully against his ribcage. “The thing I’m best at.”
As they step into the main atrium, they see that the Marquis has set up his own private revelry, away from the bedlam outside. The dais has been given to his pets, the lissome youths from prior, who are both naked and writhing in ecstasy. One of them is slowly and sensually rocking his hips and the other sits in his lap, spine arching and moaning with every squelching thrust. Around the sweat-slick columns of their throat, they bear a white strip of paint.
Facing the lewd display, the Marquis sits sprawled amongst a mountain of man-sized sunnah cushions, velveteen, silken, with colours turned infernal in the dusky lighting. A Hound sits at the foot of the steps leading up to the dais, bowing a Northern violin that perches upon his shoulder. Beside him is another musician, beating away lightly at a large animal skin drum.
Several white collared Hounds service the Marquis, pouring him drinks, feeding him sweets between puffs, or indulging themselves as they watch the show. The stench of sex, drugs, and liquor is staunch.
Jun tightens his grip on Rin’s hand, unused to such an environment. He blinks and quickly averts his gaze, blush crawling from cheeks to ears.
Rin gives him a comforting pat on the chest before extricating his hand. If the Marquis finds out about their status as lovers, there’s no knowing what he’d do to Jun.
“Korain.” The raven’s voice rings out as he steps around the pillows, Jun following in silence. He comes to stand brazenly in front of the Marquis, obscuring his view of the show.
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.
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“Mon bébé souris~” The Marquis hums, lashes falling low as he hoods his gaze. “Ah…and you have brought along a friend as well?”
“Why did you do it?” Rin snaps, patience already wearing thin. Everything about the Marquis is theatre in all the wrong ways, and it endlessly grinds against the raven’s fraught nerves. “Why did you sic your dogs on my people, Korain?”
“Your people?” The snow-topped man languors and takes a thin drag of his pipe. Delicate smoke, bitter and acerbic, ghosts from his painted lips. “I haven’t the faintest what you are talking about. Faster, mon chéri.” He says the last to the Hound, who grunts and quickens his pace. The sloppy noises increase in volume and fervour.
Rin senses Jun’s ever waxing discomfort. He bares his teeth and steps closer to the Marquis, placing his body within Jun’s eyeline.
“Do you have to be doing this while we talk?” he growls, giving the Hound’s rear a sharp kick. Much to his disgust, the burly man whines and shakes his bottom. “Fuck, you sure know how to pick ‘em.”
“Princess is my favourite,” the Marquis croons, tugging sharply on the Hound’s hair. Princess shudders, his motions gaining a heated frenzy. “Of course, he can’t compare to you, bébé souris. No-one can.”
Rin wrinkles his nose, folding his arms across his palpitating chest. “Eurgh. Look, I’m not here to reminisce. You sent your message and I’m here to respond.”
“My message?” This time, Korain looks a tad startled, his phoenix eyes widening twofold. “I did not send any messages or missives.”
There’s something in the man’s eyes that shakes Rin’s assertion. “Your Hounds brained Bellow and broke Small’s leg. Don’t act stupid, Korain, I’m not in the fucking mood.”
“…Bébé souris. Rin. I did not send this message.” Korain sighs and taps Princess’ shoulder. “Merci mon chéri.”
The burly Hound reluctantly slides Korain’s cock out of his mouth, before going to sit beside a white collared Hound. The white collar’s desperately plunging her fingers deep into herself as she watches the show upon the dais, her pupils blown in intoxication.
“Tell me exactly what has transpired,” Korain continues, rubbing the mouthpiece of his pipe against his lower lip. He keeps his legs spread provocatively with his unsatisfied length twitching in the absence of stimulation.
Rin grinds his molars and flits his gaze away. “Pug and her lackeys came down to the Slums earlier today. She beat him bad, and then she beat Small too. Neither of them have anything to do with this, Korain. They don’t have anything to do with us. If you wanted to send a proper message, you should have just come straight for me.”
“My. This is truly concerning.” The Marquis sighs and taps the ash from his pipe. “Princess, would you bring Pug inside? And whoever else was with her today, s’il vous plaît.”
Princess grunts in affirmation and rocks to his feet.
“You don’t really believe that I’d buy your innocent act, do you?” Rin scoffs, shooting Korain a loathsome glare. “I know you went after Bellow ‘cus you think you know who he is to me. You haven’t changed a fucking bit.”
“Who is Bellow to you, bébé souris?”
“I wasn’t lying before. We’re not lovers. We’re not together in any sense of the word. You just wasted your time with him.”
“If he isn’t anything to you, then why are you here?”
“I never said he isn’t anything,” Rin clicks his tongue in irritation. “He’s one my people. Whatever that means. I can’t have you touching my people, Korain.”
“How wonderful,” the Marquis says, wistfully. He gazes up at Rin with those unfocussed, red-rimmed eyes, glazed over from intoxication. “You have found people to call your own. And you show such care…such courage…in your efforts to protect them…ah…you have truly come so far.”
From the smell of the smoke and the man’s heightened lust, it’s clear Korain’s high on Slowane. It’s a herbal drug that’s highly addictive, highly potent, and with vast utility. While most use it as a powerful aphrodisiac, Rin knows of the other uses of the drug from experience alone. From treating bad nerves to being used as a torture device, Slowane is a readily available substance that Rin is particularly wary of.
In some ways, it’s worse than Gold Blossom.
“…Why are you smoking that shit?” Rin mutters, feeling a throb of pity despite himself. “It’s been five years and you still haven’t quit?”
“Slowane? Whyever should I discard what little pleasures I have left in my life?” The Marquis laments dramatically, which incites an eye roll from Rin.
“You have not yet introduced your friend.” Korain finally turns his focus to the silent lord, interest piqued when he sees those frigid goldens. “He is a handsome one. Hm, deliciously handsome…”
“Bijan Azar,” Jun says in a rough baritone. The sound reverberates against the music, sending shivers through the raven. “I am a war orphan from the West, seeking refuge in this city of yours.”
“A war orphan?” Korain smirks. “Where in the West are you from, Bijan Azar?”
Jun’s hardened features don’t flinch. “Reshun,” he spits out, eyes narrowing.
“Reshun fell not long ago. You must be new then, to the East?”
“I have only been here a few months, yes.”
“How did you become an orphan?”
“…The rebels took my city during a vicious battle. They broke into my home and dragged my parents and my younger sister outside–”
Jun pauses, brows twitching as a white collar lets out a lewd moan.
“Don’t mind it,” Rin whispers from the corner of his mouth, irritation marring his features. “They’re just high…just ignore it….”
Ignore it? Jun casts an incredulous side-glance at the raven. How could he ignore it?
Nevertheless, he pulls in a steadying breath and continues with his well-rehearsed story. “…They dragged my family outside. I was out with the fishing boats that day, so I hadn’t received word of the invasion until our return to port. According to my neighbour, the rebels had questioned my family…rather brutally, might I add–”
Up on the dais, the two youths fuck with increasing fervour, flesh slapping wetly against flesh. Around them, the white collars also grow heated.
“Keep going,” The Marquis drawls, pure pleasure lighting up his visage. “Tell me what they did to your family, Bijan Azar.”
“Th-they strung them up,” Jun stammers, eyes as round as saucers, “and then gutted them like…like fish. My family were proclaimed traitors of the people in front of the entire town, and all because they wore blue.”
“Oh, how terrible. And how did you escape such an atrocity?”
“My neighbour ran to find me at the port. She told me not to disembark and so we turned the boat around and sailed away. I did not get a chance to say goodbye–”
With a white collar’s final warble, the great doors to the hall thunder open. Pug’s enraged voice joins several others as they reach their climax.
Rin sighs and squats by the low table, picking through the bottles in search for the most expensive to drink. Clearly this is a scene that he is familiar with. Familiar enough to be numb to it, at least.
Jun, on the other hand, is shaken to his very core. He does maintain his faux stoicism, though his mind reels from the sheer depravity that somehow continues to worsen as the night ticks on.
“So that’s Bijan Azar,” Rin says, straightening up with a silver gilded bottle. “War orphan and lover of blue. I hope that introduction suffices?” He takes a long swig and passes the drink to Jun. The latter doesn’t even think as he grabs it, gulping down almost half the bottle in his daze.
“It suffices,” the Marquis says, smiling slickly.
Thankfully, he tucks himself in and takes up the pipe with shaking fingers, packing it afresh. He has slaked his thirst – for the time being.
Princess drags Pug by the hair, rough features deadpan and slack. Behind are five other Hounds, dragging along Pug’s lackeys upon Princess’ order.
Rin grabs Jun by the sleeve and tugs him back, murmuring comfort to the ashen faced guy.
Pug and her lackeys are unceremoniously dumped, and their angered protests cut the orgy (and the music) short.
“Boss! What gives?” Pug shouts, scrambling to her knees. “We were having a good time before Princess Dickhead came along and dragged us away–”
“Oh, Pug. I do wish you would be quiet,” the Marquis says, tone saccharine. His eyes however hold a coldness that strikes fear in the woman’s heart. She snaps her mouth shut and sits back on her haunches, blanching.
“Merci, mon cheri,” he says to Princess, and the latter grunts and folds his arms, seemingly upset.
The Marquis notices and he quickly adds: “Later, later, you can finish me off later.” Only then does Princess seem somewhat nullified.
“Pug.” The Marquis turns his attention to the woman. “I have something to ask you. And depending on how truthful you are, I may or may not hurt you.”
Pug swallows hard, her cheeks turning a spectacular green.
“Did you, or did you not, beat a man by the name of Bellow today? Along with another named Small?” He enunciates the names clearly, as if they were unfamiliar to him.
Pug quickly nods her head. “Yeah, I did! I beat them up good, boss. Me and the lads. We beat them so bad we sent them to the Clinic! You should have seen the suckers, down with the first hit–”
“Princess. This is a very simple question and she’s talking far too much. Do you mind…?”
The hulking Hound snatches Pug by the head and wrenches her mouth open. Without hesitation, he shoves his fingers inside and rips out her tongue. Blood gushes like a geyser and a gurgling scream follows. Princess slams the woman onto the ground, head first, so that she doesn’t choke on her own blood. He keeps her down, even as she thrashes and writhes in agony.
Jun steps forward, hand going to his hip and snatching air, face twisting in horror and righteous anger.
“Bijan, stand down,” Rin barks, grabbing the lord by the back of his shirt to keep him leashed. “Calm yourself. Now.”
Princess tosses the gory tongue onto the ground with nary a shift in expression. Pug thrashes and gurgles as the big man keeps her pinned to the floor. A puddle of blood grows around her head, soaking into her hair.
Behind, her lackeys stare and shake in terror. One of them whimpers and lets his bowels loose, effusing the acerbic stench of piss into the air.
“You should never act alone, Pug,” the Marquis drawls, puffing demurely on his pipe. Thin shadows needle his cheek as he lowers his lashes. “A Hound who defies the Pack is nothing but a selfish, unruly mutt.”
Pug’s flailing weakens until she’s slack and still, on the fringes of consciousness. She groans, though it’s unclear whether it’s in response.
“Is this not your pack? Your home? Do I not treat you fairly?” Korain’s voice rises in pitch as he clutches at his chest, eyes shimmering with tears.
Rin huffs through his nose, eyes narrowing. While he doesn’t buy the theatrics, the way the Marquis dealt with Pug is alarming. Korain doesn’t exert such violence upon his Hounds unless they have intensely angered him. They are, after all, his precious soldiers.
So the fact that he enacted such aggression against Pug, one of his most faithful Hounds, gives Rin pause for thought.
Is it possible that Korain didn’t know? Is he…telling the truth?
“My disappointment is insurmountable,” the Marquis sighs, flopping back against the pillows. He waves his hands at the Hounds gathered before him, both guards and prisoners, and he says in a listless tone, “You may go. Next time, I won’t be so lenient.”
When Princess leans down to pick up Pug, Korain says, “Send her to the Clinic and scrub her collar off.”
Rin and Jun watch in silence as the unconscious woman is slung over Princess’ shoulder and carried out, followed by the rest of the Hounds.
Soon, they are left alone with the Marquis and his white collared beauties once more. The music resumes with garish gaiety.
“Now that this misunderstanding has been addressed,” Korain hums, flashing an insipid smile, “perhaps you would like to join me for…refreshments?”
“Actually, Marquis,” Jun raises hoarsely before Rin can even open his mouth. “I would like to request a favour.” He gives his love a subtle pat on the arm as he passes him, coming to stand but inches from the gory puddle. As he glares down at the man, his eyes hold an uncharacteristic frigidity to them.
The Marquis seems quite pleased to be looked down upon in such a way. A hard blush blooms in his concave cheeks and he subconsciously starts rubbing his palm over the crotch of his pants. “But of course, mon cheri,” he simpers, indulgently. “Speak and the Marquis shall hear your request.”
There’s a subtle rise of the lord’s upper lip, exposing a white glint of gritted teeth. “I want to be a Hound.”
Before the Marquis can respond, Rin grabs Jun by the front of his shirt and drags him several feet away.
“This isn’t part of the plan,” Rin hisses, yanking the lord’s collar to level their disparate heights. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
Jun sets his jaw and gazes at the raven evenly. “I do not,” he says, willingly leaning down to meet his eyeline. “However, I cannot in good conscience let you do this alone.”
“Good conscience? The fuck has your conscience gotta do with this?” Rin gives the obstinate man a light slap on the cheek with his fingertips. Jun hardly flinches. “Tell him that you changed your mind.”
“No.”
Rin purses his lips. “What?” he snaps. “Why not?”
“I told you why.”
“Is this because of the partner thing?”
“Yes.”
The Rat groans and palms his brow, feeling a pounding headache coming on. He sweeps a furtive glance towards the Marquis some feet away. The man is chatting up one of the white collars and stroking their hair. It’s enough to make Rin’s skin crawl…and yet, there’s a stirring of enviable anger in the pit of his stomach.
“You don’t understand, Jun,” he whispers, urgently. “You don’t know what kinda guy the Marquis is.”
“I think I understand enough to make a judgement.” Those chilling goldens rest upon the puddle of blood that’s started to dry on the edges. “A man who is this quick to resort to violence is not a man I would entrust with the Slums.”
Rin twists his lips and folds his arms. Little lord, have you forgotten about me?
“What about your duties? Don’t you have to prepare for becoming Governor soon?”
“That has been delayed,” Jun says stiffly, straightening up. Shadows gather in his eyes. “My father thinks me unfit for the role, so my preparation period has been…extended.”
“Unfit? Why?” Rin furrows his brows and pinches his bottom lip. “Is it because of me?”
The little lord’s cold demeanour melts upon seeing his love’s concern. “No, this has to do with me not reaching my father’s impossible standards. Fear not, Rinnie. I will be Governor sooner or later. He has none else to pass down the title to.”
“Your old man’s still gonna realise something’s wrong. Especially Mira–”
“I will simply tell them I would like to do some private study at the Lakehouse.”
“…And you really think they’ll believe you?”
“Of course.”
The Rat sighs and rocks back on his heel. “If the Marquis finds out who you are–”
“I know. But I ask you, Rinnie, to trust me as I trust you.”
Rin’s heart suddenly feels itchy. “I trust you, even if you are being an idiot.”
“That I am always.”
When they return from their sidebar, the Marquis welcomes them back with a dramatic sweep of his arms. “Mon bébé souris! Bijan Azar! Have you come to your decision?”
Rin intakes shortly and gives a jerky nod. “I’ll be your Marchioness, Korain.”
“And I, your faithful Hound,” Jun says in a low voice.
The Marquis crows and leaps to his feet, the pipe tossed to the side as if it were nothing but trash. He whips his hands out and grabs them both by the shoulders. His bony fingers dig into their flesh like needlepoints, but neither men flinch away.
“How exciting, how exciting!” Korain sings, turning his gaze from one face to the other with glittering eyes. “I am so blessed to have my Marchioness back. And to gain such a strong and reliable Hound…the gods must be rewarding me for my suffering…”
Suffering? What suffering?! Rin stifles a spike of anger and says in a hum, “Just give us tonight, Korain. We’ll be yours tomorrow.”
“Oh, but of course,” Korain says, bringing both hands to the raven’s face. His palm hovers over his scarred cheek, but the other palm strokes the unmarred side, admiring the silken skin there. It’s as if the Marquis can only see one half of Rin. “However, Bijan Azar must undergo a…probationary period, say. He must prove his worth to me before I am to accept him into the Pack.”
Rin side-glances Jun. The lord wears a hard expression, eyes like pure steel. It sends a flutter through his stomach.
“Then I want to do it with him,” Rin says firmly, glancing back at the loathsome Marquis. “I gotta prove my worth to you too, don’t I? It’s been five years, after all.”
“Rinnie–” Jun starts, grasping the other’s arm.
“Come on, Korain,” the raven interjects loudly, tugging his arm free. “It’s fair this way, isn’t it? I thought you valued fairness. Or is that all talk?”
The Marquis laughs and jerks the raven close by the back of his head. He brings his lips close to the other’s, breath puffing hot and tinged with the bitterness of Slowane. His pupils have almost swallowed his irises. He looks quietly deranged.
“Fair’s fair,” he croons, licking his lips. “You will be tested for your worth with Bijan Azar.”
Rin bites the insides of his cheeks and angles his head away. The colour has long drained from his face.
The lord’s warm palm presses upon the small of his back. I’m here.
“What must we do during this period, Marquis?” Jun raises, his tone a tad sharper than he’d intended.
Savouring the raven’s clear discomfort, the Marquis lingers a moment longer before stepping away. He sweeps a hand through his bleached hair. “Find Vex in the morning. He will assign you your duties. For tonight, you should enjoy yourselves. Have a drink, a pipe, a delectable bitch.” He snatches the nearest white collar and pulls him into his lap. The white collar giggles and wraps his arms around the Marquis’ neck, nuzzling his neck. Korain wets his lips. “You are welcome to join me,” his glazed eyes flit to Rin, glinting with hunger, “and make up for five years lost, bébé souris. Oh, how I have missed you…”
“No,” is Rin’s blunt response. “I don’t really feel like throwing up my dinner, so I’ll be leaving. We’ll be leaving.” He grabs Jun by the wrist and leads him towards the exit. “Don’t smoke too much, Korain. You might lose what little you got left.”
Luna reaches apex when Rin and Jun leave the Temple. They walk in silence for a time as they weave their way through the junkyard and into the belly of the Slums.
Jun wishes to speak more on the plan, but one look at Rin’s detached expression kills his voice. He’s not sure what history his lover has with the Marquis, and though he is more than curious, he has long learned that to push the raven would only serve to distress him.
And so Jun decides to be patient, waiting for the other to speak instead.
“You’re going to have to do things that you won’t like,” Rin says suddenly, tugging absently at his braid. He side glances the lord and raises a brow, expression largely disaffected. “What happened to Bellow and Small…you’ll probably have to do the same to others. Think you can handle that?”
Jun frowns, his hesitation clear. “…I will find a way to avoid causing injury,” he says, slowly. “However I can, I will ensure that I do not bring harm to anyone.”
Rin scoffs and kicks at a pebble. It skips over the uneven ground and hits the side of a large, rusted machine. “We’ll see how that goes for you, little lord. In any case, I’m trusting you with this. If anything goes wrong, it’s on you.”
“I know. Thank you, Rinnie, for trusting me.”
The raven jerks a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.
“Ah…Rinnie…I was wondering…” The lord pauses and touches his mouth with the tips of his fingers. By his troubled expression and the bead of sweat rolling down his temple, Rin has an inkling of what is about to be asked. “Slowane…is that what causes the Marquis’…ah…depravity?”
The corners of Rin’s lips twitch. “Depravity?” He tosses his braid over his shoulder and casually clasps the back of his head with both hands. “I suppose you could call it that. Slowane makes people real crazy. It’s an aphrodisiac first, everything else second.”
“Slowane…” Jun tilts his head in thought. “Do you know what kind of plant it is derived from?”
“Uh. It’s a reddish herb. And when it’s dries out it turns black–”
“That sounds like Atium Laceflower.”
“Sure. Whatever you wanna call it.”
“I was not aware that Atium was being abused for reasons outside of medical applications.”
“Slowane’s the bottom of the barrel when it comes to drugs,” Rin says, dryly. “It’s got a lot of uses, but the withdrawal just ain’t worth it.”
“Yes, Atium detoxification can be lethal. And the Marquis is addicted?”
“It’s what made him the way he is.” The raven’s voice softens as he dips his head, hiding his expression in the shadows. “Korain wasn’t always such a dick.”
“What was he like?” Jun probes, gently.
“…He was kinda like you.”
The lord pauses and stares at Rin as the latter continues walking. That slender back seems so exposed and vulnerable, and Jun suddenly has a premonition of a rabid animal leaping onto his love and tearing into his flesh.
Heart pounding, he strides quickly and falls into pace with the other. He touches that slender back, feeling the hard ridges of Rin’s scar through his shirt. “How so?”
Rin flinches at the question, but the warm touch compels him to speak. “He wanted to make things better too. Everything he did, he did with other people in mind. With me in mind. He really got me believing that there was something to live for.”
“What happened?”
“He ripped that belief away from me. And I left.” Rin gives his little lord a weary smile. “Don’t ask me anymore about him. That guy is long gone.”
Jun pauses, heart clenching painfully. “Yes, Rinnie. Of course. My apologies. Only…just one more thing.”
“Hm?”
“Will he…always be like that?” Jun’s cheek darkens as he vividly recalls the Marquis’ ‘depravity’.
Rin huffs a wry laugh. “Don’t worry. We just caught him at a bad time.”
When they reach the main street, which bustles with nightly activity, Rin grabs the lord’s hand in a sudden unyielding grip.
Jun stops mid-step and glances down, brows raised in question. He sees Rin tremble ever so slightly, as if he were cold.
“…I want you to come with me…somewhere.” Rin raises his eye, the pitch depthless and shivering with emotion.
The lord gives Rin’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Of course, Rinnie. Where do you wish to go?”
In lieu of a verbal response, the raven leads him through the streets, until they reach the gates of Hanjuyang Cemetery.
The cemetery itself is placed upon an acute sheer with half spilling out into a gentle incline closer to the river. Burials are done by territorial and regional traditions, but the majority of graves are by Eastern standards. Small hillocks with the dead buried standing, facing the peak of the Aran; family plots with stone monuments; a columbarium with urns; and so on and so forth.
Though Dasom’s heritage is largely unknown, her name and regional tongue is from the Hanjuyang locality – or rather the wider state of Chunsan. Those from Chunsan are buried on the sharpest incline in neat rows, like seats in a lecture theatre. This is where Rin leads his little lord, his mood trepidatious and unstable.
They spend some time wandering the rows, flitting their gaze over the names carved into the thin grave markers. Eventually, they reach a mound without any grass, the soil freshly turned. Upon the marker, carved with great skill and care, the Eastern character for ‘love’.
Rin stands before his mother’s grave, expressionless. He releases Jun’s hand and curls his own into loose fists. Where he’d expected grief, anger, or even fear, all he feels instead is detachment. The anxiety from moments prior has instantly dissipated.
He glances at his ring. From the heat of his fingers, the white symbols are like ghostly wisps against the abyssal landscape.
The little lord watches Rin for a while, before turning his attention to the mound. With an air of austerity, he lowers himself to his knees and kowtows. There’s an intense grace to his movements that has Rin’s eye sticking to his form as he stands, kneels, and kowtows again.
The youth feels a brief stirring in his chest.
Jun rises again to his feet and bows from his waist. “I bid my greetings to you, Dasom,” he says, austerely. “My name is Hwan Jun, and though we have never met before, I have heard a great deal about you from your son.”
Said son drops his gaze to the mound.
“I would like to assure you that Rin is safe and well,” the lord continues, “and that I endeavour to keep him so for as long as I am able. I admire him immensely, you see. And to be by his side is the greatest honour. You have raised a son to be proud of and I hope…I hope you can see that now.”
Jun exhales softly through his nose and softens his tone. “You can rest well, Dasom. Know that your family will be well protected and that you will get your justice. My only regret is that I was unable to meet with you before your journey into the next life. Perhaps through the strings of fate, you and your son may meet again.”
“It’s better if we don’t,” Rin says, dryly. He folds his arms – or rather, he hugs himself, as he suppresses a shiver. From the corner of his eye flickers countless spectres, ambling about the cemetery in the somnolence of the dead. Thankfully, Dasom is nowhere in sight. “It’s better for her and I to be separated in this life and the next. If we meet again, it’ll be nothing short of a disaster.”
The little lord stares steadily at the pale youth, his smile lingering upon his handsome face. “You love her regardless. And miss her, do you not?”
“…Why the fuck would I miss her? You know what she did to me.”
“Then why did you bring me here, Rinnie?”
“…” The Rat grits his teeth and drops down into a squat. He wraps his arms tightly around his knees, trying to ignore the clammy sensation of the spectres swarming around their living forms. “I don’t miss her. But she was still a significant part of my life. She’s the one who made me who I am. The one who passed on her broken brain and stupid, useless magic. She’s the one who taught me how to endure pain. She gave me my anger. My obsessiveness. My poverty and hatred. And she took as much as she gave.” He rubs his fingers upon the scars on his cheek. Dasom blazes brightly in his mind’s eye. Her spectacular aura near blinding as she steps through the flames. “But I took her life. And she returned mine. I’d say we’re about even now.”
“You did not take her life, Rinnie. What happened was not your fault.”
“Don’t misunderstand me,” Rin says, curtly. “I don’t feel guilty for what happened. I know it was Kahin who killed my mother. But that doesn’t negate the reason for her death. It’s because of me that she died. That’s a fact. Nothing more or less.”
Technically, Rin’s statement is correct, and so Jun finds himself unable to offer any assurances to his lover. Instead, he briefly palms that fluffy sable crown, hoping that his touch would be enough.
Rin slowly bows until his forehead grazes the ground. He feels like he should be crying or raging, but his emotional output is at a zero. There’s nothing there but a shivering emptiness. He rises to his feet and drops down again, kowtowing for the second time.
He presses his palm upon the mound and murmurs something. Just four simple words that neither the dead nor the living would ever hear.
Rinniiiiiie😭😭
Imnotcryingyouare runs away
Thank you for the chapter!! ❤️❤️
Loved the part where they were at Dasom’s grave. <3