CW: Explicit language, mentions of PTSD, drug use, ableist language.
The next update will be in two weeks. Thank you for your patience!
Jun leaves the horse behind to graze and they stroll alongside the river together. The drifting water is set alight from the low hanging sun, glittering red like a million shards of rubellite. They go against the tide, facing the first fingers of night stretching out over Aran Mountain. The High District blankets the mountain in pinpoints of light, both artificial and not, and Hwan Estate shrouds in the darkness; chameleoned by its curious façade.
Jun holds himself aloft as he walks, straight back, raised chin, and both hands clasped loosely behind his back. In his Healer’s robes, he looks regal and untouchable. Rin, on the other hand, skips around his little lord like an excitable pup. At times chattering away at his side, other times striding backwards as he coquettishly admires his lover.
But no matter how unsynced their steps may be, they only have eyes for each other.
“Lion of Reshun?” Rin teases, winding his hands around Jun’s arm. He peers up at the gently smiling lord with a crooked grin. “Did you really think the Otsukis wouldn’t notice?”
Jun lifts a hand to his collar and tugs lightly. Awkwardly. “Ah.”
“‘Ah’? Did you knock your head during battle and lose all your words? What do you mean, ‘ah’?”
“I did not intend to cause a stir.”
The Rat snorts. “You did more than that. You’re all anyone can talk about in the underground. The enigmatic Lion of Reshun. The Impartial Imperial. The Blue-Robed Hero–”
“These monikers are increasingly perplexing.”
Rin squeezes his little lord’s arm, causing the latter’s steps to falter.
“Be careful,” the raven says, quietly. “No-one knows it’s you. But I can’t guarantee the same if this gets aboveground.”
Warmth spreads through Jun’s chest. He leans down and pecks Rin’s creased brow. “Worry not, Rinnie. With the loss of Reshun, the Mother has far greater concerns than a rebellious Healer.”
Speaking of the loss, Rin’s face brightens in his mirth. “Hah! I was certain you’d reclaim Reshun. Do we have the Lion to thank?”
“My actions do not have such significance.”
A wild cheer echoes through the People’s District, briefly drawing the lovers’ attention.
“For a defeated army, they look pretty damn happy,” Rin comments.
“They are returned home to their loved ones. Need there be another cause for celebration?” The lord however, is struck by a bout of gloom. He turns away from the revelry and they continue on their walk. “According to the General, our loss was predetermined. What you see there is not a defeated army. But one victorious.”
The raven raises a brow. “Things are always upside down and backwards with you bluebloods.”
“My sentiments exactly.” And, Jun adds silently, happy as they are, there are still families grieving for those who did not return.
Without planning to, they find themselves on the very docks where Lady Nam held her soiree. And as they make their way over the salt-swollen platform, they recall their conversation – one of their first and one of many.
Rin rushes to the edge of the dock, a gust of wind whipping through his hair. He pulls in a deep, cleansing breath, and imagines the cold dregs of winter released upon his exhale. Whether it’s because of the nubile blooms of springs or his little lord’s return, Hanjuyang is so vibrant and beautiful it makes his heart pound.
He grabs Jun when he approaches and yanks him into his arms, almost sending them both into the river. Jun’s surprised gasp is smothered by a heated kiss, one that he returns with matching eagerness.
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.
When they part, Jun has to grab onto a dock piling to keep his balance. He stares dumbly at the exuberated raven. “What…was that for? Not that I am ungrateful for the attention,” he adds, blushing.
“P’w tjqqs,” Elc rjsr, rlwqis.
Aec’r rwlif kjgwr. Lf rilqr tlr tjcv jgbecv Elc’r, tlr tjgv mjiiberfv olcufgr mbcagjglis ufcaif. “Ktfc P jw uijv. Ktfgf lr cjeuta kbgat wbgf atjc sbeg tjqqlcfrr.”
“Tbe oemxlcu rjq. Obbx, beg glcur regnlnfv!”
Vegf fcbeut, vfrqlaf yflcu ogjsfv ab atf ijra ofk ragjcvr, atflg fcujufwfca glcur kfgf lcvffv qgfrfgnfv. Ktf ibgv jcv atf Eja uijcmf ja atflg mbcpblcfv tjcvr, vfilutalcu lc atlr rwjii gfjilrjalbc.
“I will give you a proper ring,” Jun promises, bringing Rin’s hands to his lips to graze.
The raven flushes and averts his gaze. “I don’t need a proper ring. I told you didn’t I? I ain’t a prissy blueblood.”
“There was a time when you valued such things,” Jun says, amused.
The Rat twists his lips to the side. “…Well, it’s different with you.”
“Regardless, once I have procured the perfect ring, it shall be yours.”
“The perfect ring?”
“Mn.” Jun smiles enigmatically.
Rin rolls his eyes, but chuckles nonetheless. “Fine. But it better be the best damn ring I’ve ever seen.”
They sit beside each other, legs swinging over the sun dappled river, listening to the distant clamour of the city and the river lapping against the creaking pilings. They chat for a time about their plans: Jun as the Governor and Rin as an Otsuki, and how their respective positions will allow them to incite change. Lofty plans and grand ideas are thrown about, perhaps in a rather careless manner, but also with a sincerity borne from belief and hope.
It feels like to them, as if the last three months were spent in a frozen torpor, and only now have they returned to life with the land, stirred and breathing and moving again.
Rin lights up a thin herbal cigar, one to soothe the nerves he’s lately become partial to. He offers it to the lord who predictably declines.
“Ecianise,” Jun notes, brows pinching together. “Are you well, Rinnie?”
“It’s relaxing,” Rin shrugs, blowing a small smoke ring. “Helps with the dreams.”
“The dreams?” It takes the lord a moment, when he’s reminded of his own. “I see. Your prescient abilities are most active at night.”
“They aren’t really…I haven’t had one of those since Nuwa…” Rin trails off, gazing at the river through hooded eyes. His fingers whiten around his cigar, squishing it flat.
“I have dreams also,” Jun admits, plucking the cigar from Rin’s hand. He gently taps it back into shape and hands it back. “Every night, I dream of the battlefield. Of people dying in the most violent and cruel manner imaginable. I dream of raising my sword and…” His voice trembles. Cracks.
The raven glances at his little lord, frowning tightly when he notices the drawn look in Jun’s face. The dark shadows beneath his golden eyes and the sharpness of his cheekbones. Has Jun always been this small?
He worriedly touches Jun’s gaunt cheek, fingertips trailing featherlight. “You’re alive,” Rin murmurs, unable to keep the trembling out of his own voice. “You’re alive and you came back to me. Nothing else matters.”
Jun leans into his lover’s touch, oaken lashes falling low. A thin, shivering sigh escapes his lips. “Yes,” he breathes, and for a moment, he allows himself this respite.
***
Jun returns to the procession to seek out the Crown Prince and his maidservant, and Rin returns to the underground, making sure to avoid bumping into his beloved’s people.
It hurts to know that Jun has retained Mira’s services, but Rin understands the power of his little lord’s sentiments. Mira to Jun, is more family than those of his blood, and he is even forgiving – perhaps to the point of idiocy – of a man such as Rin.
And though he burns to vindicate Nuwa’s unjustly death, how can Rin ask his lover to do this in his stead? No. If Mira is to be punished, it must be done under the right circumstances. Perhaps, in the chaos of the battle, when the Otsukis liberate the city. One would not question the death of a soldier. It is, in fact, inevitable.
He meets with the Rat Gang at the Theatre of Sodality, where the evening’s performance is in preparation. They travel together through the underground tunnels, winding through the dense, suffocating gloom beneath the heart of Hanjuyang.
“The blueblood is alive then?” Bell asks, trying hard to distract from the fact that he is hand in hand with a rather happy Small. “He ain’t got a wooden leg or nothin’ does he?”
Rin smirks as he leads the way with a ball of Luna light hovering over his palm. “Oh, that would never be an issue. I can get creative with a wooden leg.”
“Must you always be so crass?” Sparrow clips.
“Must you always have a stick up your–”
“Now that Jun has returned, I expect he will become Governor?” Bucky interjects.
“Tomorrow, actually,” Rin says, stomach lurching. He’d always known that Jun would be Governor one day, but to actually see it happen is another thing entirely.
“To think you hooked a godsdamned Governor,” Bell huffs. “Even I’m impressed.”
“Oh no, Bell,” Small peeps, shiny-eyed. “I don’t think it’s anything like that. Rin loves him, don’t you Rin?”
The raven glares at Small over his shoulder. “Enough of Jun. He just got back and I’m already sick of talking about him. Look, if anything, it’ll be a good connection to have. Imagine having an Otsuki as Governor. We could take the city without drawing a sword.”
“He isn’t an Otsuki,” Sparrow says.
“He may as well be.”
“Not while he remains a Hwan.”
Bucky adds, diplomatically, “I do agree that having an alliance with him would be useful. At least, we would have another source of information behind enemy lines.”
“That’s all well and good,” Bell grunts, kicking a small rock in Rin’s direction. “But how long do we gotta do this tyro shit for? Iris has been working me to the bone, hunting down targets for Bucky non-stop.”
“It’s just training, Bell,” Rin sighs. They finally reach the entrance to the underground. A wave of skin prickling magic washes over the group as it identifies them as friend or foe. “The Devil’s been sending me on stupid, useless errands everyday, so it’s not just you suffering through this shit.”
“Would you rather we start a war unprepared?” Sparrow says, adjusting her glasses. She casts a narrow look at Rin and Bell. “Stupid and useless they may be to you, but our duties as tyro are pivotal to the wider operation. ‘It takes the smallest gear–’”
“‘-to move the largest’,” everyone sans Bucky intones.
“Yeah, we heard it before, Glasses,” the Rat snorts, and Sparrow flushes in anger.
Once inside the underground, they split off to their respective duties. Rin seeks out Masao in the War Room, where he’s silently drinking tea as he stares at the map of the Four Territories etched into the tabletop.
The older man gives his son a thin smile and invites him to sit with him. A second cup is waiting there, as though he’d been expecting Rin all along.
But Rin shakes his head, expression as stiff as wood. “I won’t be long. I have a report from the Gover–Hwan Sun,” he corrects himself.
Masao leans back in his chair, tea cup held loftily between middle finger and thumb. His face today is pleasantly broad and tanned – one of a farmer or a soldier, perhaps. His eyes, however, are ever keen and prudent. “How fares his spawn? He has returned from Reshun this afternoon, so I hear.”
The raven narrows his eyes. “Sun’s getting suspicious,” he says, blatantly ignoring his father’s question.
Masao raises a thick brow. “Continue.”
“Zev says that the reports I’ve given him have been ‘lacking’. They’ve been of too little consequence to be of value.”
“Hwan Sun is greedy.”
“He’s impatient. And, if you don’t give me anything good, he’ll be my executioner too.”
“Must you be so histrionic?”
“Histrionic?” Rin barks a laugh. “You call yourself the Faceless Devil and lead an underground rebellion. Of the two of us, I think you qualify more.”
Masao sips his tea. Though he doesn’t smile, a glint of humour appears in his eyes. “Your work as an imperial spy has been invaluable,” he acknowledges. “Manipulating the Mother’s attention is one of the best weapons we have. It would be remiss of me to allow this weapon to slip out of our hands.”
“Then you know this has to be real.” Rin sits on the edge of the table, planting his palm over the Western Territory. “We have to make a sacrifice or they won’t be convinced.”
The Devil gives Rin a sharp look. One that’s full of surprise and calculation both. He exhales softly through his nose and the steam from his tea dissipates. “I am aware of this. Hwan Sun’s waning faith is a threat to the revolution itself. Now he is the Minister of Military Affairs, a direct link to the Mother herself, we cannot afford to lose him.”
After a long contemplative pause, Masao sets down his teacup and clasps his hands together upon the table. His perfect posture and raised chin is reminiscent of the little lord.
“I shall be the sacrifice,” Masao announces.
Rin stares at his father, for once speechless.
“What better way to regain Hwan Sun’s trust than to offer the Devil himself?”
“…You can’t be serious.”
“This is the future of the revolution at stake. Why would I make a pointless jest?”
The raven scoffs and rubs his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. “Gou would never let you do this. And what if something happens to you? The Otsukis will think it’s my fault. They always do. I’ll be hanged right alongside you–”
“Then allow me to elaborate. If you offer them an opportunity to capture me, even in failure, their trust would be ensured.”
Rin releases a rush of breath. “Even if in failure. So the point is, I give them what they want. And if they fail to catch you, then it’s their fault. Not mine.”
“These tunnels are extensive and there are secret entrances scattered throughout the city. We give them a strategic location where, say, I would be having a secret meeting. They catch a glimpse of me. Perhaps engage in a short melee. And then I…disappear. Even such a sighting, however brief, would warrant favour with the Minister. No?”
“It’s not a bad plan.” Rin can’t help but smile, picturing the look on Sun’s face when the Devil escapes his very grasp. The lord might keel over dead from the ensuing rage. Or perhaps the Mother would do the job for him. “It’s not a bad plan as long as you escape.”
“I have spent decades as the most wanted fugitive of the Empire. And I say so, not with arrogance, but with knowledge and preparedness. And the right support.” Masao pours himself a fresh cup, and this time his smile is more genuine. Warmer. “Give your report to Zev. Tell him I will be meeting with one of my spies on the northern outskirts of Hanjuyang Cemetery.”
A pause as Masao gracefully raises the tea to enjoy the floral fragrance. The mask may give him the plainest of faces, but it could never hide the pale slender fingers that so delicately holds immense power. “The meeting will take place tomorrow evening. Three hours past midnight.”
Rin rakes a hand through his unruly hair. There’s restlessness growing by the second. Like he’s nervous or impatient. “Take me with you,” he blurts. “If a fight breaks out–”
“I shall use my gift and slip away.” The Devil gives his son a knowing look. “Are you, perchance, concerned for your father?”
Rin leaps off the table with a twisted expression. “Hah! Dream on, old man. I hope the bluebloods catch you and string you up. Maybe I’ll come along and give them a hand!” He spins on his heels and stalks out of the War Room, fuming at the Devil’s insinuation.
Masao simply laughs and says, “They will require more than just a hand, my ambitious tyro.”
rin’s actually concerned about masao? did i see that right?!!
and welcome baaack 🥰
Yeaaah XDD I think he’s taking some of Nuwa’s words to heart ;u;Also thank you! I hope you have been doing well ^3^ <3
heheee very well, you too i hope~
yes! Doing a lot better recently ^^ <3
Omg HI I hope you’re doing well
Father-son bondinh????? What’s that???
THANK YOU for the chapter <33
Bonding* typo lol
Dondon!! Hai ^^ Yes a little father-son bonding. Well, we’ll see how long it lasts huehuehue. Thank you for reading! I hope you have been well donburiiii <3