Ah… just now, I heard someone speak for me… what… a beautiful voice. Did I… die? Was that… an angel? Ah… what-
W-Wasch goi onn?
Dohyun's cheeks parted instinctively, as if to check what was inside his mouth. Then he heard muffled voices again.
"He really bit his tongue to endure the pain… idiot."
Idiot? Who-
"Sigh… he's unbelievable. Did you investigate this matter?"
"Ah yes, Your Highness. The girl's mother was indeed kidnapped by a man. Neighbors reported a veiled man breaking into their house and assaulting her mother."
"Ha… it's always one thing after another. I will personally look into this. Any leads on Shin Haerin?"
"No, milady."
"Alright."
The voice… it seemed Lady Chunhee was present, addressing a second person. The way she addressed them...Could it be…?
Dohyun froze, acutely conscious of every part of his body. He forced himself to straighten his arms, fingers and even his toes - his breathing grew shallow and deliberate.
"He hasn't eaten anything, has he?"
"No, milady."
"Fetch him something light, not solids."
"Shall I bring some leftover chicken soup…?"
"Very well."
"My lady…" Chunhee's voice softened, tinged with guilt, "I must apologize. This would not have happened if I had not persuaded him to deliver the soup to your chambers. I never imagined how… the tables would turn. I am willing to accept any punishment."
Hwa Miye remained silent, exhaling a quiet, weary sigh before replying, "I have said I did not need him. Yet you persuaded him to win me over."
"…"
"I declined him because he does not need to serve here. And he is… too young." Hwa Miye bit his lip, a faint tremor betraying the emotions he kept locked inside. "It is too much for him. He was sent here as an exile, was he not?"
"Ah… I apologize again, Your Highness."
"I will see to it later. Fetch me something for him."
"Right away, Your Highness."
Dohyun was fully awake, capable of opening his eyes and speaking, yet his body refused to respond. He lay stiff, unwilling to move an inch. His eyelids twitched, but he remained as still as a statue.
After a few minutes, Chunhee entered, carrying the familiar scent of warm, freshly prepared chicken soup.
How the tables have turned.
The soup, made for the princess, was now being fed to him, by the princess herself.
"Shall I attend to him, Your Highness?" Chunhee asked, but seeing no response, she remained silent.
Hwa Miye delicately lifted the bowl with his long, fair fingers. The warmth of the soup tinged the tips of his fingers reddish. He picked up the small wooden spoon, scooped a small amount, and blew on it three times.
Chunhee watched intently, captivated. She had never imagined witnessing this.
Feeling her gaze, Hwa Miye said, "I am attending to him only because he was assaulted in my court in my presence. I owe him this much. You may leave now."
Chunhee could have sworn she saw the tips of the princess's ears blush faintly, though she attributed it to the cold. After all, the princess had been unwell.
She bowed respectfully and departed swiftly.
Hwa Miye then turned toward the prone figure. Gently, he slipped an arm beneath Dohyun's head.
Dohyun realized his hair had been untied, strands now brushing between delicate fingers. Each cool touch along his scalp sent shivers through his body, tingling down to his feet.
He smelled the warm, savory aroma near his nostrils. Then, a gentle press of warm liquid touched his lips. The soup hit the cut on his tongue, sharp pain shooting through him. Reflexively, he spat it out.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Did I just spit it on the Princess? Fuck… I hope not-
"Is it burning your tongue?" The soft voice whispered near his ear, low and gentle, sending another tremor through his body. He stiffened even more, fists curling unconsciously.
"But you must eat something… or you will not get better. Wait..."
Dohyun felt a presence mere centimeters from his face.
???
Unpleasant memories flared unbidden, of his time serving a decadent nobleman. Though his duties were menial, he had sometimes been forced to witness unspeakable acts: the nobleman, stark naked, with another young man beneath him, their bodies pressing against each other. Dohyun had entered the room to deliver a wine jar. As he approached the steaming scene before him, the nobleman picked the jar, without glancing at the person who had delivered it. Ignoring the third person, who now helplessly watched, the nobleman gulped a good amount of wine, the liquid trickling down his muscular fair body.
He then filled his wet mouth and leaned down, touching the lips of the man beneath him. The intrusion was so heavy that the tongue pressed tightly inside the other's, finally letting the man gulp the wine that had just been transferred to him.
And now… could the princess be transferring the soup in such a manner…?
NO!! That cannot be happening!
His eyes shot open reflexively. He bolted upright.
"Pah!! I'm awake now! I'm completely fine! Thank you for your kindness!"
Hwa Miye blinked, his intoxicating brown eyes wide in surprise.
"…?"
"I was merely checking if you were still breathing," Hwa Miye said calmly, "I did not intend to startle you."
"Oh!" Dohyun stammered, blankly.
"Good. You are awake. You may eat on your own now."
"Oh…"
Silence settled. Dohyun sat stiffly before the tray, Hwa Miye's gaze fixed upon him. The intensity left him feeling exposed, as if stripped bare.
Hwa Miye, however, found a strange beauty in the boy's disheveled appearance. His stormy black eyes beneath those fluttering lashes. Following down with his straight nose and soft, full lips. He had a tanned skin that bore the mark of constant training under the sun. Broad, sculpted shoulders that defied his age. His hair was long but shorter than Hwa Miye's. Perhaps he had cut it slightly shorter for better focus in training?
Why… go to such lengths at this age?
"Your Highness…" Dohyun's voice trembled, eyes lowered, "Thank you for your kindness, but I cannot-"
"Why? Are you capable of recovering without food?"
"No… that's not it. This soup was made especially for you. You…" He lifted his gaze slowly. "…you are unwell as well."
What? Why does he care about me? Isn't he afraid of me? Then why…?
"Even if I were to eat this soup, I would not feel content," Dohyun said, eyes meeting those glistening autumn-colored ones. "For I have eaten the food meant for someone who is sick."
"But you are unwell too. What of that?" Hwa Miye's voice remained cold, emotionless.
Dohyun laughed awkwardly. "I would rather starve, Your Highness. I cannot accept food meant to cure someone else's sickness. Even if I am sick too, I would rather we eat together. I have no such rank or status to claim, so I would rather remain-"
"Enough."
Hwa Miye did not wish to hear more. Why was this boy, whom he had rebuked harshly, still so considerate? Even if his kindness were a tactic, such genuineness was unusual.
"Fine. We shall do it your way."
"…?"
"We will eat together, then."
Dohyun froze. He had never expected such outcome. He wanted to run away, this instant! This was unbearably awkward!
Hwa Miye scooped three spoons of soup, sipping each slowly, before gesturing for Dohyun to take his portion.
Dohyun, flustered, seized the bowl and gulped the hot soup directly. In one swift motion, he placed the bowl back on the tray and stood up.
"Thank you for your kindness" he shouted, cheeks bright red from ear to ear. With that, he darted off. He even forgot to retrieve his silver hairpin that now lay beside the wooden bed.
Hwa Miye stared in disbelief. Did he just drink straight from the bowl? Is that even possible? He had always used a spoon.
With a faint smile, Hwa Miye picked up the abandoned bowl, pressing his lips gently against the slightly wet rim. Tilting it carefully, he drank the remaining soup in one smooth motion.
He was genuinely impressed.
A thought flickered through his mind.
Was this… them, indirectly, touching lips?
"//// ////"
.....
Dohyun did not know where his feet were carrying him. He only knew he had to run. Soft strands of his hair streamed behind him as the wind resisted his flight, yet he did not slow. He ran so fast that the sharp pain blooming in his gut, where he had been kicked, barely registered.
Only when his breath tore ragged from his chest did he finally stop.
He bent slightly, huffing, realizing he had wandered deep into the palace's inner corridors without awareness of direction. Silk-draped halls and polished stone blurred into one another, until the air grew warm and heavy with mist.
He was now at the hot springs that lie inside the palace itself.
At his side stood a copper mirror. When his reflection caught his eye, he froze.
Did the princess really see him like this ?
He looked like a wandering ghost torn from a battlefield: hair disheveled, robes ripped and stained, an unpleasant stench clinging stubbornly to him. A white cloth was bound around his head, a faint dot of red seeping at one corner where blood had once flowed.
Standing there, the realization settled in. Since he was already here, he should wash himself. His robes, at least, needed thorough cleansing.
Without further thought, he slipped off his maroon robe and cast it aside. His fingers moved next to his inner shirt, loosening it, sliding the fabric off his broad back. Muscles shifted beneath his skin with each movement, scars of old memories lining his frame like silent witnesses.
Then his hand traveled downward, toward the knot of his trousers.
Only then did he realize...
His membrane had been upright for far too long, its swollen head straining against the fabric as though it might tear free at any moment.
How long had he been like this?
Since when…?
Heat rushed to his face as memory surged unbidden.
It had been when the princess spoke near his ear, right?
Right??
His heartbeat thundered violently in his chest.
Without allowing himself another thought, he untied the knot. A large, thick organ sprang free. His thick, calloused palm wrapped around it, rubbing fiercely. Soft groans escaped his lips as his eyes squeezed shut.
What was he imagining, though?
Petal-pink lips brushed close to his ear, whispering softly before a gentle tongue traced the shell of it, slow and deliberate. Each pass felt like cool water sliding over burning skin, sending trembling sensations rippling through his body.
In the blink of an eye, thick, hot liquid erupted, leaving his hand slick and messy.
Ha… what am I even doing?
How long has it been since I've done this?
He couldn't remember. Perhaps this truly was his first time.
Dohyun wondered if Hwa Miye's suggestion, that he should leave, was beginning to make sense. Perhaps it was. Perhaps leaving was best.
Perhaps he should keep several feet of distance from the Flower Princess.
Perhaps he should...
Thoughts flooded him endlessly. He pressed a hand to his burning face and lowered himself into the hot spring, water sliding over his bruised core, steam swallowing him whole.
….
Shin Haerin rode hard, striking the horse again to urge it faster. It was already midday. She had to reach the palace, now.
Hwa Miye had commanded her to find Choi Yuna. Dead or alive, bring her back.
She had once assumed Yuna would be living quietly somewhere in retirement. But after what she had witnessed, certainty abandoned her. Haerin had known Yuna for years. They were both closest to Hwa Miye.
As the image replayed in her mind, her deep brown eyes glistened. Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding as clear streaks slid down her chin.
After more than three hours of relentless travel, she burst through the palace's front gates. The guards flung the doors open at her arrival. She did not even stop to secure her horse, leaping down and abandoning it entirely as she sprinted into the corridors.
She stumbled more than once, her complexion pale as porcelain.
At last, she reached the courtroom.
Hwa Miye sat upon his throne of white peonies and chrysanthemums, a scroll held lightly in hand, cognac eyes intent like azaleas caught in still wind.
Her entrance shattered the silence.
His gaze snapped up. The scroll fell forgotten as he rushed toward her, wide sleeves billowing. Haerin ran to him as well, until her strength failed. She collapsed to her knees before him.
Her cries rang through the hall, raw and broken.
Hwa Miye's face twisted. He already knew what was to come out that crying mouth.
With trembling hands, Haerin drew forth a silver chain stained with blood. She cupped it in her palms, lifting it like an offering.
"Y-Your Highness… it is hers… She's..."
Her voice shattered. "She's dead!"
Hwa Miye could not move.
The chain was unmistakable.
Yuna had worn it since the day she began serving him. He remembered asking her about it once out of curiosity. It was when Yuna was doing his hair, brushing those long strands of her. Back then, she had smiled and said it was a gift from her late beloved and that it was something she would treasure till death did them apart.
And now, death had indeed done so.
"…Did you bring the body?"
He needed to see it...Or he couldn't believe it ..no, he didn't want to believe it.
Haerin nodded, pointing toward the entrance. She had left the body at the front gates of the palace.
The palace learned of Choi Yuna's death that very moment.
Hwa Miye did not pause to console Haerin. He turned and stormed toward the gates, drawn by a familiar wailing voice.
He had heard it before.
When he reached the entrance, silver-armored guards stood arguing with a small girl who clutched a scorched body tightly in her arms. The woman's face was unrecognizable.
"I won't leave! It's my mother!" the girl screamed, snot and tears mixed on her face.
Hwa Miye froze.
It was the same girl who had accused Dohyun earlier.