"I don't remember the last time I visited your chambers, Your Majesty."
"I mean… it is almost as though you have been avoiding it yourself."
Meiylin spoke carefully, choosing her words with the precision of a courtier yet hoping to favor herself. The Emperor, who stood silently behind her, did not answer at once. His dark eyes wandered, distant, as though she had struck a hidden chord within him. Seeing no response, Meiylin pressed on.
"Do you remember the first time I entered this room?"
The Emperor seemed detached, uninterested even, but he did remember. Only, what filled his memory was not what Meiylin was recalling.
That face—so bright, so disarmingly beautiful. A sweet smile, gentle blue eyes that shimmered like glass in sunlight, lips as pink as spring blossoms. Red hair curled faintly at its ends, damp with mist. The way his insides had churned as he stared, the way his body had moved without his command, inching closer, closer still. His throat tightened as he swallowed hard, his hand rising, trembling, until it touched that face. That single face that destroyed his calm, his composure, his very thoughts.
Han Ji had seen beauty before—he was Emperor, the Son of Heaven. Countless maidens and noblewomen had graced his presence. But this was not the same. This face was not ordinary beauty—it was Yunxi.
"Brother Ar Ji… are you all right? Is there something on my face?"
The boy's innocent voice had stirred him awake, yet his hand lingered on the soft cheek. He had not answered. Instead, with the same hand, he brushed aside strands of wet hair that clung to the boy's temple.
The boy had not flinched, but confusion showed in his clear eyes. Innocence shone in them, unclouded and unknowing. He could not understand the strange behavior of the man before him.
"Brother…" Yunxi had said, shaking his hand lightly as though to draw him back.
Their eyes locked—blue against black. For a long moment, silence ruled. Then Han Ji tried to speak.
"Have… have you ever… umm… have you…"
The words dried upon his lips. He stammered, lost, ashamed. What he had wanted to ask was too vulgar, far too shameful for the innocence before him. His finger, trembling, had traced to the boy's lips, brushing them with forbidden longing.
It became unbearable. Even Yunxi, so naïve, sensed the strangeness and pulled back. His expression twisted with confusion and unease.
"I am going home," the boy declared softly, and turned to leave.
Han Ji had not stopped him. Not because he had no desire to, but because he could not. He was Crown Prince then, heir of the realm, bound by duty and honor. At his own age, he had known too much already—marriage, courtly whispers, the thousand shades of desire. But Yunxi… Yunxi knew nothing of such things. He was pure, untainted, untouched by the world's corruption.
Han Ji feared he had frightened him. To Han Ji, that touch was a small gesture, fleeting, nothing compared to what his darker heart longed for. Yet to Yunxi, it had been alarming—too strange, too sudden. He had been wrong.
Still, in the shadows of his heart, Han Ji knew this: if time were to rewind, he would not change. He would not restrain himself. No—he would have done more. He would not have let the boy go.
This was what terrified him about himself. When he desired something, he would pursue it to any length, no matter who was hurt, no matter what was broken. He cared for nothing else.
Yet with Yunxi, it had been different. He had eaten with him, played at silly games, laughed at things he never imagined he would laugh at. Yunxi was the exception. Around him, Han Ji had restrained himself countless times. He had swallowed desire for the boy's sake, for his innocence.
But desire never dies—it only waits.
Now, as Han Ji stood in his chamber, staring at the delicate beauty before him, he could not help but compare. Meiylin was indeed beautiful. Her face was finely drawn, her eyes like those of a cat, her features gentle. But to Han Ji, none of it could measure against the memory of Yunxi.
Meiylin turned suddenly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She did not know what thoughts consumed him, but she could see they were not in her favor. The distance in his gaze was enough to wound her pride.
Their eyes met, and Han Ji forced a small smile—hollow, distant. It was clear he had little interest in her words, and she sensed it, though she dared not say so.
Pain flickered across her face. Her cat-like eyes grew dim, her lips trembled faintly.
Han Ji sighed inwardly, then lowered his gaze. Slowly, his steps carried him forward. When he drew close, a single tear slipped down her cheek. She turned away, ashamed. Yet Han Ji gently took her chin and turned her back to him. Tenderly, he wiped the tear with his thumb.
"I am sorry," Han Ji murmured. His voice was low, burdened. "I have been absent-minded these past days. And today…" He trailed off, "I remember everything."
Alie.
Meiylin shook her head. "Your Majesty, it is my fault as well. I have pressed you too much, yet you…"
Before she could finish, Han Ji silenced her. His lips descended upon hers. At first slow, deliberate—then suddenly fierce, rough. The kiss deepened until pain replaced passion.
"Hm… Your Majesty… Han Ji!?"
Meiylin pushed him back with trembling hands. Blood tinged her lips, his hunger too uncontrolled.
He had taken her for someone else.
Han Ji bit his lower lip, guilt flashing in his eyes. "I am sorry… I just…" His words broke. He clenched his fist, then spoke again. "I will… just sleep here. I will go elsewhere after—"
"No."
Her roar of anger stopped him. Her tears burned, but her heart burned fiercer. "No more excuses, no more promises unkept! Stay with me. Please."
Her plea cut the silence, heavy and desperate. Han Ji lowered his gaze, torn between shadows of his past and chains of the present.
---
That night, a message arrived at the Kim residence. It was brief—Yunxi's journey had extended. He would be gone longer than expected.
Kim Jihwan read the words, his face darkening with worry. He turned to his nephew, Chan Yang, his voice grave.
"If His Majesty discovers that Yunxi has left the city… that will be the end of us. We must find a way to bring him back."
Chan Yang's youthful eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "We just need him back, right? Then I know someone who can help us."
Jihwan's head snapped up. "Who?"
"The general's son—He Ju."
Jihwan spat in disbelief. "So you are saying the rumors were true?"
"Uncle, not exactly." Chan Yang raised his hands in protest. "I am not certain what lies in what Yunxi said, but I am sure of this—He Ju feels strongly for him. Anyone could see it."
Jihwan frowned deeply. "And how will that help us? We cannot simply drag him from his house and send him after our boy."
"That is the only problem," Chan Yang admitted. "But in my opinion, that is the truth behind their connection. I think Yunxi merely used him. Ever since He Ju was stripped from court and even arrested, not once did Yunxi visit him. Not once! Does that not seem strange to you?"
Jihwan paused. The reasoning was sharp. Yunxi had indeed spoken in court, indirectly confirming the rumors that tied him to He Ju. Though the general's son had escaped death, he had paid dearly—exiled from influence, cast aside by power. Yet Yunxi had not looked back. Not a word, not a letter.
"Perhaps," Chan Yang continued, "Yunxi only used him as an excuse. Perhaps he never loved him at all."
The thought calmed Jihwan strangely. If his son was not truly entangled in such affairs, then perhaps he was not as lost as he feared.
Still, one question remained. Why had Yunxi risked the Emperor's wrath by admitting such a thing at court? What had driven him to it? Han Ji, for all his ruthlessness, would hardly care if his friend lay with men. Marriage, after all, was a matter of dynasty, not affection.
So why had Yunxi risked everything? What lay beneath his defiance? Why would throw away his dignity just to annoy someone? And why would the Emperor be annoyed by that?
The more Jihwan pondered, the more intriguing it became.
This secret—this hidden truth—was far from ordinary.
And it promised consequences beyond measure. Good ones, he hoped.