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Han Yoohyun knew that his duty as crown prince of Hayeon included diplomacy. Sung Hyunjae, the newly crowned king of Seseong, should have been on the receiving end of his best behavior in light of their new alliance. There were clear benefits to getting along as fellow rulers. Having strong allies was a necessary part in protecting their kingdoms in case of war.
If not for the fact that Sung Hyunjae was courting his older brother, Han Yoohyun might have tolerated him.
Unfortunately, they had long passed that point.
Han Yoohyun saw what others often missed: The predatory gaze in Sung Hyunjae’s eyes and the strange detachment he had from life, as if the world around him was nothing but a story he had read before. If Han Yoohyun had his way, Sung Hyunjae would’ve long been buried alongside his ancestors by now. The only reason for Sung Hyunjae’s continued existence was the fact that Han Yoojin would feel saddened by his non existence.
Still…there were limits to what Han Yoohyun was willing to endure.
The roses. The godforsaken roses.
Sung Hyunjae was set to arrive in Hayeon tomorrow. Rather than present a single gift like any sane person would have done, Sung Hyunjae had instead decided it was appropriate to cover every square inch of the castle in roses.
They were everywhere. Blooming from the ceiling, bursting from the walls, planted in vases and cups and sword sheaths. Roses were not native to Hayeon. They had to have been imported, magically transforming the castle into a greenery overnight. A high-level spell that took time and planning and effort. Han Yoojin only mentioned in passing he liked them.
The extravagance of the courting gift spoke volumes. It was, in essence, a public declaration of courtship so forward and unprecedented that no one else could compete. The message was clear. Sung Hyunjae would be the only contender for Han Yoojin’s interest. The flowers were a show of wealth and power, an unspoken warning to any who would attempt to do the same.
Rumors of Sung Hyunjae and Han Yoojin’s affair had spread throughout the region. The most popular story thus far was that they had dated long ago and were secretly in love, courting through official means for show. Their ambiguous status - unengaged and yet far too close to simply be courting - had caused gossip to spread like wildfire. This gesture would only serve to fan the flames.
But no one was good enough for Han Yoojin. Certainly not someone like Sung Hyunjae.
And if Han Yoohyun had to take desperate measures to impede Sung Hyunjae’s attempt at courting - he would. His attempts to burn the flowers had been unsuccessful so far but that didn’t mean he was going to stop trying.
Han Yoohyun stopped outside of Han Yoojin’s door, where Bak Yerim was stationed. She was one of the few people he trusted to guard Han Yoojin.
“I need ice,” Han Yoohyun said.
“Why?”
“I’m removing the roses.”
“With ice?” She asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow. “Why not just burn them?”
“They’re immune,” he growled. Sung Hyunjae had thought ahead. “Enchanted with something that makes them resistant to fire.”
“I’ve got bad news for you.” Bak Yerim pointed a hand at one of the roses. Her magic shot like an arrow, the ice encasing the rose for a split second before melting off. The petals were unchanged save for a few droplets of water. “They’re immune to water magic as well.”
That was fine. That wasn’t Han Yoohyun’s plan. He held out his hand expectantly. She formed a sphere of water in her hands, the clear orb freezing once she handed it to him. He pressed the ice to his nose and cheek, skin flushing pink in response to the cold.
“Have you finally lost it?” She looked unsettled. “What are you doing?”
He summoned a small flame and put his eyes directly over the smoke. Water welled in his vision. “As I said before, I’m removing the roses.”
Once he disposed of the evidence, Han Yoohyun entered the room.
Han Yoojin was sitting on his bed, reading a letter when Han Yoohyun walked in. The roses inside matched the ruby earrings he had gotten from that bastard, catching sunlight as Han Yoojin looked up at him.
“Hyung,” Han Yoohyun called out, sniffling and wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “I think I’m allergic to roses.”
Alarm flashed across Han Yoojin’s face. He stood hurriedly, running over and reaching up to wipe Han Yoohyun’s tears away. “Are you alright?” Han Yoojin asked, concern furrowing his brow. He cupped Han Yoohyun’s face in his hands, tilting it this way and that as if checking for any other symptoms. “How’re you feeling?”
Outside, Han Yoohyun saw Bak Yerim’s expression of confusion morph into muffled laugher, hidden behind her hands. Thankfully, Han Yoojin seemed not to notice.
Han Yoohyun ignored her, burrowing his face into his hyung’s hands. “Not good,” he said pitifully, lowering his voice as if he was getting sick. “I can’t stop sneezing.”
Han Yoojin frowned. “You’ve never had allergies before.”
People like Han Yoohyun acquired more than power and magic from their blessings - they also had better health.
Han Yoohyun hadn’t been sick since he was a child, but he knew that was what Han Yoojin was reminded of now. He had come down with a fever during the spring he turned ten. He could still recall the feeling of having Han Yoojin at his bedside, holding his hand day and night until he was better.
“It might be because there’s so many of them,” Han Yoohyun said innocently. “There’s never been this many roses in Hayeon.”
“That’s true,” Han Yoojin murmured worriedly. He took the roses and shoved them outside to the balcony, closing the glass doors. “I’ll tell him to stop sending them.”
Han Yoohyun hid his smile, the sweet sound of victory flowing through his ears. “Perhaps you could ask him to stop entirely,” Han Yoohyun pushed eagerly. “You could cancel his journey to Hayeon.”
“It’s important for Hayeon to maintain a good relationship with Seseong,” Han Yoojin said. He paused, and then added hesitantly, “And he’s not…bad.”
In his head, the song of victory played a discordant note, slamming to a stop.
Do you like him? Han Yoohyun wanted to ask, staring at the light flush that had appeared on Han Yoojin’s face. Why Sung Hyunjae? What does he mean to you?
He didn’t want to hear the answers that Han Yoojin could give. The explanation as to why they seemed so close, why Han Yoojin had turned down so many suitors before and yet had encouraged Sung Hyunjae’s attempts, their relationship far deeper than the alliance. He stayed silent.
“I would like you two to get along,” Han Yoojin continued carefully, as though stepping on glass, “If possible.”
“Would that make you happy?” Han Yoohyun asked, the words forcing themselves from his throat like briars.
Han Yoojin nodded, eyes filled with hope. “It would.”
Han Yoohyun stared. Han Yoojin rarely ever asked him for anything. Not for the crown, although it was Han Yoojin’s by rights of succession. Not for help, even when Han Yoojin had been barraged by criticism and mockery for his weakness. Not for revenge, after their parents had left. Despite everything he endured, Han Yoojin had never asked Han Yoohyun for a favor.
But for Sung Hyunjae, he would?
Han Yoohyun looked away. “Alright,” he said haltingly. “I will…attempt to endure his presence.”
Asking for more would be too much. Han Yoojin seemed to know, accepting his words and smiling. “Thank you.”
“Anything for you hyung.”
An audience had gathered for Sung Hyunjae’s arrival. Court officials, servants, knights, and other townspeople crowded around the courtyard. It was Sung Hyunjae’s first journey outside of his kingdom after his coronation and Hayeon citizens were eager to glimpse the man who was courting their eldest prince.
They were not disappointed. If anyone doubted the earnestness of Sung Hyunjae’s courtship, they no longer had reason to.
The carriage Sung Hyunjae arrived in was extravagant and fanciful, the domed top painted with vermillion red and engraved with gold. It was filled with details from expert craftsmen, the spokes welded into flower designs, glass windows as clear as crystal. And despite the beauty of the carriage, there was one detail that stood out, a separate aspect that had captured everyone’s attention.
Sung Hyunjae had shown up in a wedding carriage.
The audacity. A wedding carriage was deeply ingrained with traditions and symbolic meanings in Hayeon. For a couple to ride in one was an unspoken declaration that their lives would be intertwined for eternity. Sung Hyunjae’s presence in a wedding carriage implied that Han Yoojin would be accompanying him, that their engagement was inevitable. He may as well have shown up with a marriage contract and a priest.
Fuck him. Han Yoohyun felt like setting the entire thing on fire.
The smile Sung Hyunjae wore as he exited the carriage bordered on smug. His eyes searched the crowd until he found Han Yoojin, who had turned as red as the roses removed yesterday, alighting with joy once he spotted him. Han Yoojin seemed embarrassed, but not surprised, moving forward to meet him at the carriage steps.
“Han Yoojin,” Sung Hyunjae greeted, his voice smooth as satin, clear enough so that the crowd could hear him perfectly. A ripple of shock went through their audience at the familiarity in his tone, betraying an intimacy of their relationship that went beyond courtship.
And the way Han Yoojin allowed it, the way he played along with the tilt of his lips curled upward, responding in kind. “Sung Hyunjae.” — Another ripple of shock from the crowd. It was one thing to call a prince by name, another thing entirely to call a king by name — “Have you been well?”
“Better now, with you beside me,” Sung Hyunjae purred.
“I can’t say the same,” Han Yoojin teased, the fondness in his tone giving his true feelings away. “My life was better without your presence.”
“I will work hard to earn your affection,” Sung Hyunjae replied, the mirth in his eyes making it clear he saw through Han Yoojin’s words.
“I am not easily won over.”
“No,” Sung Hyunjae agreed. “But you are worth the effort.”
“And if I refuse?”
“I would be quite heartbroken,” Sung Hyunjae sighed. “You would have to take responsibility for what is left of me.”
“I didn’t realize you were so fragile,” Han Yoojin said, laughing lightly. “But I suppose I must, since no one else would want to.”
“I’m hurt at how little you think of me,” Sung Hyunjae responded playfully. “My reputation is fairly positive outside of my kingdom. I do have my own share of suitors.”
“Oh?” Han Yoojin raised an eyebrow. “Why not court them then?”
“Because.” Sung Hyunjae’s smile shifted into something warm and genuine. He leaned closer, crossing the invisible line of what was considered proper, the distance between them far too small for those in courtship. “I have only ever been yours.”
Han Yoojin did not step backward. He was humoring Sung Hyunjae, a silent invitation to do whatever he dared.
For a moment, they stood there. Quiet, gazing into each other’s eyes as if they were the only two people in the world.
And then.
And then.
Slowly, deliberately, like a person who knew they were above the laws of the land, Sung Hyunjae peeled off his white gloves, extended his hand and offered it to Han Yoojin.
His bare hand.
Han Yoohyun heard a thud in the distance. Someone must’ve fainted.
While kingdoms varied in courtship etiquette — Hayeon was steeped in traditions centuries old while Seseong tended to take a more lax approach — what Sung Hyunjae had done was unheard of. A gesture so lacking in propriety that it was downright scandalous. Sung Hyunjae might feign ignorance based on Seseong formalities, but there was no doubt in Han Yoohyun’s mind that he knew exactly what he was doing.
Han Yoohyun curled his hands into fists, drawing blood from where his nails dug into his skin. Around him, a flurry of whispers exploded from the crowd, a mixture of outrage and squeals of excitement, enthralled by the boldness of his pursuit and waiting for Han Yoojin’s response.
They watched as Han Yoojin, just as slowly, just as deliberately, slipped out of his own gloves - accepting Sung Hyunjae’s invitation with a small smile. His first public acknowledgment of Sung Hyunjae’s claim. In front of the entire kingdom, Han Yoojin had accepted Sung Hyunjae’s courtship.
The crowd erupted into a cacophony of noise, every person rushing to speak. The entire kingdom would know what had happened by the end of the night.
An elbow kneed into his side. From beside him, Bak Yerim muttered, “Your sleeves are on fire.”
Ah. He realized belatedly that his hands had burst into flames, the edges of the fabric singed. It took effort to extinguish it. “That shameless bastard,” he grit out, “He dares—“
“I know,” Bak Yerim snapped. She too was fiercely protective of Han Yoojin. “But attacking him now wouldn’t do any good. Ahjussi would be mad at us.”
Han Yoohyun knew she was right, though it didn’t make it any better. He shut his eyes for a moment, thinking of all the swords in the world and how well they would fit in his hands when he stabbed Sung Hyunjae.
“Alright,” he said eventually, unclenching his teeth with difficulty. “And what do you propose we do instead?”
“We might not be able to kill him easily,” Bak Yerim said. A mischievous look spread across her face. “But we can certainly ruin his courtship attempts. He’s here to ask for Ahjussi’s hand in marriage, but if we could sabotage whatever he has planned, then maybe Ahjussi would reject him!”
“Sabotage how?”
Bam Yerim shrugged. “I didn’t think that far ahead yet.”
Han Yoohyun stared at her for a long while before he spoke again. “…I hope you never plan on becoming a strategist.”
“I would be a great strategist!” She exclaimed indignantly. “It’s not like you have any other ideas.”
Han Yoohyun did have plans, but they weren’t viable. All of them involved Sung Hyunjae’s untimely demise. “And you do?”
“I will.”
Han Yoohyun narrowed his eyes. “Fine. We’ll do it your way, but I’m blaming you if it fails.”
Bak Yerim grinned and patted him on the back. “I knew you’d come around. Don’t worry, Ahjussi will turn him away in no time.”
Would he? The way Han Yoojin had indulged Sung Hyunjae was a clear sign of acceptance, a glimpse into how deep their actual bond was.
His brother had always been careful when dealing with important individuals. The ability to be polite regardless of what happened was a crucial skill to have when wars could be started due to tactless behavior. He’d taught Han Yoohyun to be the same way, although Han Yoohyun had found that the more powerful he became, the less he had to abide by such conventions. Han Yoojin was always careful about his image, charming and innocuous enough to hide his true intelligence, able to swindle deals out of much more powerful nations because of it.
Yet, Sung Hyunjae had been able to break the veneer, had gotten Han Yoojin to reveal his true self - to act as he would with family or friends or…with a lover.
Han Yoohyun doubted Bak Yerim’s plan would work. Still, it was worth a try for the chance, no matter how small, that things would be the same as they had always been.
Sung Hyunjae had taken over a portion of the palace kitchens. A king visiting a servant’s station was strange enough. Stranger still was the fact that he had refused the help of the chefs available. “My dear Yoojin can be picky when it comes to sweets,” he had been reported saying, “I’d prefer to make them myself.”
Within the hour, news that Sung Hyunjae was serving Han Yoojin had made its way around the castle. It was common knowledge that kings served only the gods. Sung Hyunjae’s service was akin to saying Han Yoojin was equal to them in his eyes.
And the thought that Han Yoojin was allowing Sung Hyunjae to feed him….
There was a reason why only the most trusted staff members were allowed into the kitchen. It was all too easy for an enemy to sneak deadly poisons into a glass of water. Han Yoohyun had grown up eating with silver cutlery as a safeguard, meant to detect poison and change colors as a warning signal.
It was a sign of trust from Han Yoojin. He put his life in Sung Hyunjae’s hands.
“We could poison the food,” Bak Yerim had suggested when they heard the news for the first time. “Make it so that Ahjussi doesn’t trust him anymore. Or at the very least, make it so that Ahjussi stops eating the food he makes.”
Han Yoohyun had gone deathly silent in response, considering it. Han Yoojin being injured in the process was not ideal, but if there was a chance that Sung Hyunjae would leave because of it, then it would be worth it.
“No,” Bak Yerim said when she spotted his expression. “Han Yoohyun. I was joking.”
“It could work,” Han Yoohyun said quietly. “A mild poison. Not enough to hurt him.”
“There are other ways to sabotage that guy! We can think of something else.”
“None would work as quickly as this. He could be gone by the end of the day if we do this correctly.”
Bak Yerim stared at him with something halfway between alarm and fascination. “You’re set on this, aren’t you?”
“Find a poison from the healers, something that won’t cause serious injury. I’ll meet you at the kitchens.”
Bak Yerim, having had experience dealing with Han Yoohyun, recognized that this was one of those moments wherein arguing was a lost cause.
Thus, the plan was set in motion.
Han Yoohyun arrived with two rings forged by Yoo Myeongwoo, the royal blacksmith, each enchanted with the ability to turn them invisible. Bak Yerim arrived with a small leather pouch.
They donned the rings and waited until Sung Hyunjae left to grab something from the pantry, entering the room quietly. He would be back soon. They had no time to waste.
On the kitchen counter were bowls of blueberries, mixtures of powdered sugar icing, freshly baked cake still hot in their pans - ingredients for a cream cake.
Han Yoojin’s favorite. Another sign of how well Sung Hyunjae knew him. Han Yoojin rarely ever ate sweets.
Han Yoohyun opened the pouch that Bak Yerim had brought, revealing a bright blue powder that seemed to glow even in daylight. “What is it?”
“Moonflower dust,” Bak Yerim said. “The healers told me it would cause a stomachache at worst.”
“How long does it last?”
She shrugged.
He scowled at her. “You should’ve asked.”
“It’s not like you gave me time!”
“Are you sure it’ll work?”
“You’re the one who said it’s worth a try,” she said accusingly. “Hurry, before he comes back.”
From outside, there came the distant echo of footsteps approaching.
Han Yoohyun sprinkled the powder over the blueberries and grabbed Bak Yerim’s arm, bringing her to the side of the kitchen where they could observe safely.
“What are you doing?” Bak Yerim hissed. “We should leave!”
The footsteps grew louder.
“We have to be certain that he adds the moonflower dust. Stay quiet.”
The door swung open. Han Yoohyun watched as Sung Hyunjae entered with a bottle of vanilla, dressed in a borrowed apron from the cooks and plain clothes. He had never seen Sung Hyunjae outside of his royal regalia. It was strange to witness, like he was wearing an ordinary person’s skin to hide whatever lurked underneath.
Sung Hyunjae began to layer the cake, the icing glittering with crystal flower petals. He paused for a second when he spotted the blueberries, but then continued to add them in a second later, seemingly having not noticed something was amiss.
Bak Yerim let out a sigh of relief and gestured to the door. Han Yoohyun nodded. Now that they has seen the moonflower dust added, they could leave the room.
Suddenly, Sung Hyunjae turned his head towards them. They froze. Han Yoohyun knew that Sung Hyunjae could not see them due to the invisibility, but the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Han Yoohyun knew the eyes of a monster when he saw one. Sung Hyunjae’s gaze felt like it was burning him from the inside out, like scorching fire sent searing through his veins. But he could only be staring through them.
Invisibility emboldened Han Yoohyun. He stared back at him, imagining how nice it would be to have Sung Hyunjae’s head mounted on a stick, or at the very least, banished far from Hayeon. On the other side of the world, as far away from Han Yoojin as possible.
He should visit Han Yoojin without distraction while he had the chance; the courtship made it so Han Yoojin was hardly ever alone since Sung Hyunjae’s arrival. Han Yoohyun took a step towards the door and Sung Hyunjae’s eyes followed him.
Sung Hyunjae’s eyes followed him.
Sung Hyunjae wasn’t staring through him. He was staring at him.
Their eyes met.
Well. There was no use keeping up the act.
Sung Hyunjae smiled as Han Yoohyun took off the ring, effectively dropping the invisibility. Bak Yerim let out a loud groan before doing the same.
“How?” Han Yoohyun demanded.
“If you want to remain undetected, I suggest you be aware of your killing intent,” said Sung Hyunjae. “I could sense your bloodlust from miles away.”
“You knew we were coming?” Bak Yerim asked. “Why didn’t you stop us?”
“I thought your attempts to keep me away from Han Yoojin were commendable, although not very well planned,” Sung Hyunjae said with wry amusement. “I saw no reason to stop you.”
“Then you knew what we were doing?”
“Moonflower dust is a very discreet poison but I have a trained eye. It’s native to a kingdom besides mine.” The bottle Sung Hyunjae acquired from the pantry gleamed. He pulled forward the finished creation: a miniature cream cake with berries. “Luckily, it can be neutralized. Would you like to try one?”
The cake, decorated with beautiful white frosting and frosted flowers, had the nerve to look inviting.
Bak Yerim took a bite before Han Yoohyun could react.
Sung Hyunjae watched with his perpetual smile, resting his head on his hands, fingers interlaced. “How is it?”
“It’s good,” Bak Yerim said mournfully.
“Traitor,” Han Yoohyun muttered under his breath.
Bak Yerim looked him dead in the eyes, before slowly raising her fork and spitefully taking another bite.
Han Yoohyun thought the roses would be the end of it. That after the servants removed every last bouquet and wreath and rose crown, he would find peace walking through the castle halls.
He was very, very wrong.
“They’re quite nice, don’t you think?” Sung Hyunjae mused, joining him in the courtyard. “They bloom beautifully this time of the year.”
Sung Hyunjae was referring to the pink peonies that now lined their walkways, the blush-colored petals floating down like never-ending summer showers. There seemed to be double the amount of flowers there had been previously and they were twice as big, impossible to ignore.
Sung Hyunjae’s smile tilted upwards, lazily condescending. “Or do you happen to be allergic to peonies as well?”
“I might be,” Han Yoohyun said flatly.
“What a coincidence. What about carnations?”
“Those too.”
“How unfortunate.” Sung Hyunjae said. His eyes flickered with mirth, like a cat taunting its prey. He was toying with him. “I’ll have to have roses carved out of rubies for the wedding then.”
Han Yoohyun bared his teeth. “There’s not going to be a wedding.”
“I’m afraid your hyung has already fallen for me. There’s little you could do to stop it.”
“There's one thing I could do.” Han Yoohyun curled his hand around the handle of his sword.
“I see.” Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow. “You wish to challenge me to a duel?”
In any other situation, a challenge between two rulers would have been grounds for war but Han Yoohyun knew that Sung Hyunjae wasn’t the type. He would find it entertaining rather than offensive.
“Do you accept?”
“I could hardly refuse a request from my future brother-in-law,” Sung Hyunjae said. There was a quiet confidence in his gaze, the look of a king who had been born with power and superiority. It was clear that he believed he would win. He seemed almost amused at Han Yoohyun’s challenge, like he was appeasing a child’s command.
None of that meant anything. Sung Hyunjae underestimated how far Han Yoohyun was willing to go to protect Han Yoojin.
“If I win,” Han Yoohyun said coldly. “You end your relationship with my hyung. Immediately.”
Sung Hyunjae let out a laugh. “And if I win?”
“You won’t.”
“I might.”
“You won’t.” Han Yoohyun repeated firmly. “Hyung will be on my side.”
“Han Yoojin does seem to enjoy my suffering,” Sung Hyunjae sighed. Han Yoohyun’s eyes twitched at the causal address. “Our duel would have to be limited.” A true battle between them could lead to the destruction of the kingdom and any who watched. People were bound to be hurt. “Han Yoojin would be more concerned about your injuries than his own. He can be quite reckless.”
Sung Hyunjae spoke as if he had seen him injured before. When? Why had hyung been injured around him?
Han Yoohyun narrowed his eyes. He lowered his voice dangerously. “If you hurt him, I will kill you where you stand.”
“Funny. Your hyung told me the exact same thing.” Sung Hyunjae smiled, the edges of it sharper than any sword. “You two are very alike.”
“Most people would say differently.”
“Most people are not as perceptive as I am,” Sung Hyunjae said, meeting Han Yoohyun’s glare evenly. “Han Yoojin can be fearsome when he wants to be.”
Han Yoohyun imagined his brother threatening Sung Hyunjae, a rush of satisfaction welling through his chest at the thought. It reminded him of older days, when Han Yoohyun had yet to gain his abilities and Han Yoojin was forced to defend them both against clever court members who wanted the throne, back when it was the two of them against the world.
That world had been broken when Sung Hyunjae entered; shattered into pieces with the quickness of a lightning strike, irreversible and irreparable. It left Han Yoohyun on unsteady ground.
Sung Hyunjae was able to bring out a side to hyung that he hadn’t seen in years.
Before their parents had abdicated the throne, Han Yoojin had been different. He had smiled easier, laughed more freely, been more playful. Though Han Yoohyun’s abilities had made things easier for them, he had never been able to fully alleviate that burden from Han Yoojin’s shoulders.
Sung Hyunjae could.
Han Yoojin was happy when he was with him, like nothing else in the world mattered.
“Rest assured,” Sung Hyunjae said quietly, breaking eye contact and looking upwards. Flower petals fell into his hair. “As long as I am here, no harm will come to Han Yoojin.”
Han Yoohyun followed his line of sight.
In one of the castle towers, Han Yoojin stepped out onto his balcony, emerging from his room. His eyes were wide, filled with awe as he stared at the flower petals falling from the sky. He reached for them with a sort of childish glee, outstretching his hands to catch them and laughing loudly when he found they were real, not just a magical illusion.
Han Yoohyun glanced back at Sung Hyunjae. His smile had softened, the warmth in his gaze as gentle as the morning dawn. It was the most human Han Yoohyun had ever seen him.
The realization was startling. “You care for him.”
“I do.”
The words were so simple, spoken softly, and yet they fractured Han Yoohyun’s perception of Sung Hyunjae. There was weight behind them, the sincere promise to protect Han Yoojin and the honesty of the confession. It was difficult to reconcile; the thought that Sung Hyunjae might truly care for Han Yoojin as much as he did.
“I will allow you to protect him,” Han Yoohyun said, removing his hand from his sword hilt. He would believe Sung Hyunjae’s words. “But my word stands. If you hurt him, I will kill you. In this life and every other.”
“Hopefully with a stronger poison this time,” Sung Hyunjae said, bemused.
“A painful one,” Han Yoojin promised.
Sung Hyunjae laughed. “Your thoughtfulness is appreciated.”
There was a small pink book going around the castle recently.
Han Yoohyun caught sight of it often during the past few days. He spotted servants hiding the book in their pockets while working, noble ladies giggling while reading underneath the shade. Merchant stalls stacked piles of them for sale, its popularity having seemingly taken over the kingdom overnight.
As a result, the author’s clientele ended up including many people Han Yoohyun knew personally.
Moon Hyuna, captain of Hayeon’s royal guard, had been in the middle of reading the booklet when Han Yoohyun arrived for a sparring session. She set it down when he drew close, allowing him a glimpse of the cover. The title You Saved Me, Prince was written in flowery calligraphy on the front.
“Have you read it?” Moon Hyuna asked.
“No.”
“Good.” Moon Hyuna was grinning like she knew a particularly juicy secret. “Keep it that way.”
“Why?” He asked, instantly on guard.
“For one, it’s romance, which you don’t read,” Moon Hyuna said, standing up and stretching her arms above her head. “And secondly, because I would prefer you keep your sanity.”
He stared at her suspiciously. It was a book. What could it possibly do?
“Curiosity can be deadly, Your Highness,” she said, answering his unspoken question. “It’s best that you never find out.”
Others had a different opinion on the matter. Riette was especially keen on trying to convince him to read the story. She seemed to view it as a matter of national importance.
“Oh, I think you would find this particular romance very interesting,” Riette cackled. “I’d say it should be at the top of your list. You might as well. The entire kingdom will have read it by the end of the week.”
Which was true. Han Yoohyun had never seen a piece of literature sell as rapidly as that small book had. Even Bak Yerim — who abhorred the act of reading and treated it as a chore — read it. He had spotted her hiding in the library while searching for an obscure manuscript, her face red and scratchy.
“Are you crying?” Han Yoohyun asked incredulously.
“No,” she snapped, wiping her eyes. The pages of the book were dampened with tears. “It’s windy in here. That’s all.”
Never mind that the library windows weren’t open. When she turned away from him, he understood why she’d chosen that part of the library: It was far from prying eyes.
“And even if I were crying, which I’m not,” she sniffed. “That would be understandable, because it’s a very touching book, okay?”
“Right.”
“Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not.”
“Don’t tell anybody you saw me here,” she said, crossing her arms.
Han Yoohyun stared at her blankly. “Who would I possibly tell?”
“True, you don’t have any friends,” Bak Yerim murmured. She seemed to accept the answer, although she continued to eye him with some suspicion. “I’m surprised you haven’t banned the book yet.”
“Why would I?”
Bak Yerim opened up the first page to show him. The author’s name, written in the same ornate calligraphy as the title, showed a familiar name. “Because it’s written by Sung Hyunjae.”
The sudden discovery shed a new light on the book. That explained the reactions he had seen: why people had been so eager to read it, why Moon Hyuna had warned him away and why Riette had done the opposite. He knew in theory that it would be better to avoid the novel, but there was an itch underneath his skin. What could Sung Hyunjae have possibly written?
In the end, curiosity won out.
Han Yoohyun picked up a copy from a merchant who was all too delighted to sell it and settled down for a read. That was his first mistake.
You Saved Me, Prince was not just any romance novel. It was a romance novel about Sung Hyunjae and Han Yoojin, detailing their romantic escapades in language that was just as flowery as the cover. Stories about their first encounter in the forest, their secret meetings, how they had fallen in love. A narrative that was extraordinarily well written and shockingly vulnerable, compiled into one very long love letter.
There was no wonder as to why it was selling so quickly. It was practically confirmation to the rumors that had been circling around the two. There was always a market for gossip and Sung Hyunjae had timed the book’s release perfectly. Public opinion of them was sure to go up.
Knowledge of the book’s contents led to Han Yoohyun’s second mistake, which Bak Yerim had accurately predicted: attempting to ban it. His hastily constructed decree made it so that the distribution of You Saved Me Prince was to be forbidden immediately. Anyone who was caught selling or reading the novel in public was to be punished.
This inevitably made the novel even more popular than it had been previously. Illicit sharing of the novel reached unprecedented heights, aided by false book covers. People had even begun to create spin-off stories, with titles such as Fall Into My Arms, Blossoming Roses, Towards the Sound of the Sun , and more.
Han Yoohyun’s third mistake was attempting to confront Sung Hyunjae. Fate seemed determined to destroy Han Yoohyun’s plans.
He found Sung Hyunjae alone with Han Yoojin — yet another blatant disregard for courtship etiquette — and paused before they could notice his presence. The two of them stood beside the river, a vermillion red cloak wrapped around Han Yoojin’s shoulders. He was swimming in the fabric, clearly meant for someone much taller than him.
“—a gift for you,” Sung Hyunjae was saying, handing Han Yoojin the book. The light of the water reflected into his hair, glimmering like strands of gold.
“You wrote this?” Han Yoojin asked, scanning the cover. “I was wondering why Yoohyun-ah had enacted that new law…”
“All great literature is subject to hate,” Sung Hyunjae sighed, as though it caused him great pain. “It is a sign of good writing.”
Han Yoojin flipped the book open, falling quiet for a moment as he read the page. Slowly, like a ripening strawberry, his cheeks became more and more flushed. “Sung Hyunjae!” Han Yoojin hissed, ears pink with embarrassment. “Is this about us?!”
“Indeed.” Sung Hyunjae grinned. “I believe our story should be shared.”
Han Yoojin pointed at a page. “I never said, I love you Sung Hyunjae-ssi, please marry me!”
Sung Hyunjae shrugged. “I took creative liberties.”
Han Yoojin snapped the book shut and buried his face in his hands. “Why did you write this?” He mumbled, unable to hide the blush spreading to the back of his neck.
Sung Hyunjae laughed lightly. He reached forward, taking Han Yoojin’s hands in his. “Because I covet my memories of you,” he said, his voice filled with adoration. “In Seseong, it is customary to immortalize your lover in some way, whether that be through song or writing. Consider it a sign of my devotion.”
Han Yoojin peeked over his fingers at him silently, lost in thought. Whatever he saw in Sung Hyunjae’s expression must’ve convinced him of his honesty.
“There are other ways to show your devotion,” Han Yoojin said finally, a bit exasperated. He moved their intertwined hands, cupping Sung Hyunjae’s face. “Normal ways. Knitting me a sweater would be a good start.”
“I’ll have it done by the wedding day,” Sung Hyunjae promised, turning his face to press a kiss on Han Yoojin’s palm. “Although I’ve heard there’s a play being made based on the book if you would prefer that.”
“Did you profit?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re forgiven.”
“Is that all I am to you, my love?” Sung Hyunjae asked, lips pulled into a pout. “A way to make gold?”
“Of course Your Majesty,” Han Yoojin said soothingly, brushing his thumb across Sung Hyunjae’s cheek. “Why else would I agree to marry you?”
Sung Hyunjae’s response fell on deaf ears. Han Yoohyun was still processing the last sentence.
Hyung had been planning on accepting the proposal from the beginning.
Han Yoohyun had thought, hoped maybe, that that wasn’t the case. He’d rejected the thought of their marriage happening, but seeing them together - there was no more denying it.
The rumor mill was right.
Hayeon had its fair share of assassination attempts. Certain areas of the castle were vulnerable to them — any expanse of open space meant that attacks from the sky became a new option for their enemies. It stood to reason, then, that an attack against Han Yoohyun would be best organized while he was walking along those paths.
What most enemies failed to consider was that Han Yoohyun was always on guard.
Always.
He felt the blade coming before he saw it. Han Yoohyun drew on his magic, deflecting the attack with an azure willow leaf. The dagger thudded into leaf, dropping with a clang onto the floor as Han Yoohyun drew his sword.
In the distance, the forceful sound of clashing spears and an explosion of dragonfire rang in his ears. Moon Hyuna and Noah. A simultaneous attack.
Knives, flashing towards him.
He sprang backwards and sprinted away, taking note of the light of the stars and the shadows following him. Two of them, based on the angle of the projectiles being thrown. Non-magical.
A decade of training had prepared him and muscle memory kicked in. Han Yoohyun stopped suddenly, angling his sword with a burst of flame and striking outwards, the fire flaring beyond the edge of his blade. The assassin stopped — too slow — and was sent hurtling towards the wall, slamming into it with a loud crack as the brick gave way. The assassin slumped forward like a marionette with its strings cut, dead on impact.
Something was off. It was too easy.
The other had no chance to react before Han Yoohyun spun, holding out his hand. Willow leaves exploded forth, spiraling together, the edges as sharp as steel. A surge of magic collided with the assassin, knocking them off their feet and sending them flying towards the other side of the corridor. The leaves wrapped around his arms like iron chains, pinning them against the wall. A single leaf pressed against the assassin’s neck.
“Who sent you?” Han Yoohyun growled, that uneasy feeling crawling underneath his skin.
“Is that the question you should be asking, Your Highness?” The assassin laughed, spitting blood. “Think carefully.”
“I have no time for your tricks,” Han Yoohyun sneered, drawing a thin line of blood. “Tell me or I will kill you.”
“You will kill me anyways,” the assassin grinned, a manic look in their eyes. “But that’s alright. You were never our target.”
Han Yoohyun’s blood ran cold.
Hyung.
The rumors that had spread of Sung Hyunjae’s courtship. Fear of the union between Seseong and Hayeon’s kingdoms. Neighboring countries had nothing to gain and everything to lose from their betrothal. Sung Hyunjae himself was too powerful a target, but Han Yoojin’s death would ensure that the alliance crumbled.
A flash of lightning fractured the night sky. It came from the direction of Han Yoojin’s room.
Han Yoohyun slit the assassin’s throat and bolted towards the lightning strike, his heart pounding in his ears. Adrenaline flooded his veins as he took to the skies, the deafening sound of thunder booming through the clouds. Sung Hyunjae’s magic.
Han Yoojin was alright. He had to be.
Han Yoohyun didn’t know what he would do if he wasn’t.
It was a second that seemed to draw on for an eternity as he dashed towards the room, his feet thudding against the floorboards, the force of it ringing in his bones, throwing open the doors, only to find —
Sung Hyunjae holding an unconscious Han Yoojin in his arms, surrounded by a sea of dead bodies. He stood framed beneath the crescent moon, haloed by silverlight. His shadow, darker than the night sky, stretched out in front of him like an infinite abyss, something otherworldly and vast lurking within.
Every muscle in Han Yoohyun’s body tensed. The air in the room was drenched in Sung Hyunjae’s bloodlust, sharp, painful, the edges of it burning. Han Yoohyun’s breath was caught in his throat, the overwhelming pressure curling like a noose around his neck - like he was waiting on death’s door, one step away from the other side. For a split second, all Han Yoohyun could feel was the wrongness of it, how it didn’t belong in the natural order of things, and his magic flared in familiarity.
They would be evenly matched in battle.
“You’re late, little prince,” Sung Hyunjae said pleasantly. Too pleasant, for what conspired. “My apologies. I’ve dirtied your floors.”
An understatement. Blood pooled around Han Yoohyun’s feet like red wine, trickling further out into the hallway. There were too many corpses to count, their remains unrecognizable in the aftermath. Sparks of electricity and the burning scent of ozone permeated the room. In the corner, Bak Yerim laid unconscious, but was seemingly unscathed.
Han Yoohyun’s focus remained on hyung, who was still being carried by Sung Hyunjae. There was an ease to it, like Sung Hyunjae had done it often before, and a gentleness in his hold.
“Why isn’t he awake?“
“A sleep spell,” Sung Hyunjae said, delicately brushing a stray strand of hair off of Han Yoojin’s forehead, his soft touch at odds with the violence that had occurred minutes before. “He should be awake by morning.”
Han Yoohyun was pointedly ignoring why Sung Hyunjae had been in hyung’s bedroom. “And Bak Yerim?”
“She fainted. That was my doing,” Sung Hyunjae said, a slight smile on his lips, sharpened into a keen awareness. “You’re the only one who hasn’t.”
Han Yoohyun narrowed his eyes. “Is that a threat?”
“No. Merely an observation.” Then, to Han Yoohyun’s surprise, he handed Han Yoojin to him. “I can handle the rest if you’d like me to. As thanks to my gracious host.”
Sung Hyunjae’s eyes glowed with a golden light, a promise of endless torment as eternal as the sun - scorching, blinding flames that would consume their enemies alive. To protect hyung, the same way Han Yoohyun had always done.
Extending that offer of protection to their kingdom was wrought with implications. Accepting Sung Hyunjae’s help would strengthen the ties between Seseong and Hayeon, a sign that the marriage would progress.
But there were going to be more assassination attempts. He would have a better chance of keeping hyung safe with Sung Hyunjae as an ally.
Han Yoohyun made his choice. “I trust you know what to do, Your Majesty.”
“Have faith, little prince.” Sung Hyunjae smiled, a cruel and vicious thing. “They will beg for death when I am done.”
There were many words that Han Yoohyun could describe Sung Hyunjae. Arrogant, unpleasant, annoying.
Weak, however, was not one of them.
Han Yoohyun had seen the extent of his power. Sung Hyunjae would not be an easy opponent.
Their duel would be a private one, hidden from prying eyes. Their audience was comprised of a few Hayeon knights and Sung Hyunjae’s royal guard.
Before the match, Han Yoojin had given him a thunder-resistant coat and made him promise that he would win. Han Yoohyun had every intention of keeping it. His skill with the blade had earned him wide renown for a reason.
While Sung Hyunjae may have evenly matched him in terms of raw power, Han Yoohyun knew that he was not as talented a swordsman.
Sung Hyunjae stood on the opposite end of the courtyard, his sword drawn. Han Yoohyun could see his face reflected in the shine of Sung Hyunjae’s blade. The sword looked almost ceremonial, as if it had never been used before in battle. Han Yoohyun recalled that Sung Hyunjae didn’t usually carry a weapon.
“We fight until first blood,” Han Yoohyun said in lieu of a greeting, meeting him in the middle.
“Very well,” Sung Hyunjae agreed easily, turning to face him. His golden eyes shimmered with amusement. “That is kind of you.”
By law, Han Yoohyun could have called for a different method of victory, but he had chosen not to. “If I asked for a duel to the death, would you have agreed?”
“Han Yoojin values your life and mine. You would never have asked regardless,” Sung Hyunjae said. Perceptive. “Would you like the first strike?”
Han Yoohyun bristled. “I don’t need an advantage to win.”
“Ah,” Sung Hyunjae said. “Then let’s begin.”
Before Han Yoohyun could respond, Sung Hyunjae struck. As quick and merciless as any slaughter. Han Yoohyun responded by sheer instinct, blocking with his blade.
Their swords clashed, the sharp sound of metal piercing through the air. The force of Sung Hyunjae’s attack rang through his bones as he held his ground. It hurt and he clenched his teeth in pain, refusing to let Sung Hyunjae see the impact of his blow.
Sung Hyunjae grinned and continued his onslaught, a torrent of whirring blades, his movements clean and polished. Han Yoohyun rose to meet him, striking out to counter. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he slashed outwards, the edge of his blade threading the lines of his enemy’s vital points, a hair’s width away from skin. He swung; Sung Hyunjae parried. He feinted; Sung Hyunjae deflected. Again and again and again.
He gathered mana in his strikes, his sword ignited with scorching heat. It was a crimson flash in the air, faster than any normal person could see. Even the addition of his magic had no effect on the pace of battle.
Sung Hyunjae’s grin had diffused into a smug smile, and he matched him blow for blow effortlessly. It was almost as if he could read the future. Like Han Yoohyun was an open book.
His lungs burned; frustration boiled within him. Drawing out this fight would have its consequences. Had he underestimated Sung Hyunjae? Was he weaker than he’d thought? Why—
I could sense your bloodlust from miles away.
Sung Hyunjae’s words echoed through his head, the memory surfacing. Han Yoohyun sent out a burst of mana, forcing Sung Hyunjae back to buy himself a second of time.
Control. Han Yoohyun drew in a deep breath, calming his heartbeat, eyes fixed on his opponent. His bloodlust had to be controlled.
“Good,” Sung Hyunjaee said, his smile widening. He swung forward. Their swords met. They were close enough that Han Yoohyun could see the exhilaration on his face. “Now you understand.”
Han Yoohyun despised the fact that he had learned something from that bastard. He struck like a windstorm, a whirlwind of steel. Without his bloodlust giving him away, he could see the cracks beginning to show. The flaws in Sung Hyunjae’s form.
He had been right. Han Yoohyun was a better swordsman.
His sword, as soft as a thread of silk, grazed Sung Hyunjae’s cheek. A line of red blossomed from the cut. First blood.
In the silence that followed, with the rustle of wind on the grass, Han Yoohyun spoke first. “I rescind the terms of this duel,” he said. He would not ask Sung Hyunjae to leave. “I will never like you and I will never accept you, but I will tolerate you. For hyung’s sake.”
“I will never ask for more,” Sung Hyunjae said. There was the shared understanding that everything was for Han Yoojin’s sake. “He will always prioritize you. Han Yoojin asked me to be lenient during the duel.”
“And were you?”
“No, little prince.” The endearment almost sounded…fond. “Victory is yours and yours alone.”
Han Yoojin and Sung Hyunjae had gotten engaged in secret. They announced it officially a week later.
His brother had planned a festival in celebration of their new engagement, citing that it was necessary that Hayeon partake in Seseong’s traditions and make merry to uplift the spirit of their citizens. The kingdom had taken to it instantly, flooding the streets to sing and dance, full of light and laughter. Han Yoojin was among them, swept like a leaf down a river’s stream by Sung Hyunjae, the two of them weaving through the crowds effortlessly. He was laughing at something the other had said, his smile as bright as the gold reflecting from the ring on his hand.
“Your Highness.”
Han Yoohyun’s attention did not waver, but he greeted his visitor. “Moon Hyuna.”
Moon Hyuna observed the scene below them with a drink in hand, leaning on the stone railing. “If you could set things on fire by looks alone, Sung Hyunjae would be dead by now.”
“I could set him on fire through other means.”
“You’d have to burn through his cloak. I’ve heard that it’s flame resistant,” she said, amused. “Although he doesn’t seem to be wearing it at the moment.”
The red cloak was nowhere to be seen. Today, Sung Hyunjae was wearing azure blue and embroidered gold. Hayeon colors. He was mirroring Han Yoojin’s outfit. Together they looked like a matching pair.
“Bak Yerim is borrowing it,” Han Yoohyun said. She had been sent out to fight a fire-wielding monster on the Eastern border and had loudly protested about missing the celebration when she left. The fire resistance would help defend against the monster’s attacks.
“Nice of him.”
“It wasn’t out of the goodness of his heart.” Han Yoohyun doubted such a thing existed. “He lent it to her because hyung would worry if she didn’t have it.”
“A kind gesture on Han Yoojin’s behalf, then,” Moon Hyuna said, laughing. “They look happy together.”
They did. Han Yoojin was offering his fiancé confectionary from a nearby stall, hand outstretched. Sung Hyunjae’s mouth lingered on his fingers as he took a bite.
“Hyung told me that they had been dating for a while,” Han Yoohyun said, resisting the urge to burn the confectionary. He could make it look like an accident. Probably. “He kept it a secret from me.”
“Maybe he was afraid to tell you. You wouldn’t have approved of their relationship.”
“Sung Hyunjae is not…the worst choice.”
“Oh?” Moon Hyuna arched a perfect eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you two were on such good terms.”
“We’re not,” Han Yoohyun said curtly. It was simpler now for him to admit the truth to others, having reached a level of acceptance. “But Sung Hyunjae would give up his life to protect him. And it’s hyung’s feelings that matter the most.”
“You’re letting him go.” Moon Hyuna said, a small, approving smile on her face.
Still, it was not wholehearted acceptance.
“Temporarily,” Han Yoohyun corrected. “Sung Hyunjae will die of old age soon enough. Then hyung can come back.”
Moon Hyuna snorted. “Never mind. You’re just as possessive as ever.”
“It would have been best if hyung never married.” Let it be known that Han Yoohyun would be first in line to cheer for Sung Hyunjae’s downfall. “Regardless, Sung Hyunjae and I have reached an agreement for now.”
“How diplomatic,” Moon Hyuna said. “Something tells me that you two get along better than you think.”
“I remind you that I have the power to revoke your knighthood, Moon Hyuna.”
“And I remind you that if you did, no one would be willing to replace me,” Moon Hyuna replied calmly. Han Yoohyun knew she was right; there were few people in the world who could wrangle the other guards like she did. “Deny it all you want, but Han Yoojin will be glad to hear his two favorite people are warming up to each other. In fact, I’m sure he would love to know—”
“Don’t.” Han Yoohyun cut her off. “I’ll tell him myself.”
“Good.” Moon Hyuna smiled and Han Yoohyun had the distinct feeling of having been cornered. She turned back to gaze at the festival, the sweet sound of music flowing through the air, at the joy that their two cultures merging had brought. “I’m looking forward to the wedding.”
There were things to be done before the wedding could take place. A protection ritual had to be completed before Han Yoojin could leave the kingdom. After that, however, the wedding was inevitable.
Han Yoojin deserved the best, but…Sung Hyunjae would have to do.
It was difficult for Han Yoohyun to imagine what life would be like without hyung. The wedding was set to be in Seseong, after which Han Yoojin would stay as the next king consort. It was a custom that had been ingrained into the public centuries ago and it was only right that he would stay with Sung Hyunjae.
Han Yoohyun needed to stay in Hayeon to fulfill his duties. He would have to learn how to live without Han Yoojin. Just the thought of it made the suffocating feeling of loneliness creep into his chest, his throat tightening.
“Are you okay?”
Han Yoohyun snapped out of his thoughts. Han Yoojin paused walking and was staring up at him with a concerned expression.
“I’m okay, hyung,” Han Yoohyun assured him, balancing the basket of blue flowers and resuming their walk. They were headed towards the lake where the protection ritual would take place. The path was a short ways away from the castle, in a nearby secluded forest. “Just thinking.”
“What are you thinking so deeply about hmm?” Han Yoojin teased. He was dressed in a robe made by their ancestors, which he would wear when he bathed in the water to cleanse.
“You,” Han Yoohyun said truthfully. “And what will happen after the marriage.”
The lake was crystal clear when they arrived, the color gradient going from a light blue across the edges into a midnight blue in the center. Steam rose from its surface, naturally warmed by the activity underneath.
Han Yoojin’s expression softened. “You don’t have to worry. Sung Hyunjae treats me well.”
“I know.” He had witnessed it firsthand. “But I will miss you after you leave.”
“Oh!” Han Yoojin snapped his fingers. “That’s what I forgot to tell you. I’m not leaving.”
Han Yoohyun stared at him for a moment. His mind raced. “What?”
“I’m not leaving,” Han Yoojin repeated, his smile wide with delight. He stepped into the lake, an ethereal light surrounding the water as he moved. “Did you think I wouldn’t miss you? Sung Hyunjae will have to travel when he would like to see me.”
Han Yoohyun’s heart felt like it would flood, all the emotions inside him welling up in his eyes.
Hyung was going to stay. Here, in Hayeon. With him. He wasn’t going to be left alone.
“Don’t cry,” Han Yoojin said, laughing slightly as he pulled him into a hug. Han Yoohyun hugged him back tightly, aware he was acting like a petulant child. “I saw how hard you’ve been working to get along with Sung Hyunjae. I had to do something too.”
Han Yoohyun leaned into the touch, burying his head into Han Yoojin’s shoulders. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Han Yoojin said quietly. “I promised I would never leave you, remember?”
How could he forget?
Years and years ago, when their parents had left them to fend for themselves, Han Yoojin promised that he would never leave his side. No one had ever put him first before.
And Sung Hyunjae was willing to help him keep that promise. He put Han Yoojin’s wishes above his own.
Han Yoohyun took a deep breath to compose himself and pulled away, wiping his eyes. “Do you love him hyung?”
Han Yoojin flushed, but his voice remained steady and truthful. “I fell in love with him a long time ago,” he said. “And when I envision the future, I can no longer imagine it without him by my side.”
“Then I approve of him too,” Han Yoohyun said, successfully managing to keep the disdain from his voice. It was becoming easier to think of Sung Hyunjae’s presence now.
Han Yoojin’s smile was wide and unfettered, his hands folded over his heart like it was the best thing he had ever heard.
“But I still don’t like him,” Han Yoohyun added, just in case hyung had any ideas of them bonding. He braided the flowers in hand into hyung’s hair - a symbol of protection. It was his way of showing acceptance; fulfilling the ritual.
Han Yoojin laughed. “I would never expect you to,” he said, nodding as if he understood.
A comfortable silence fell between them. There was a sense of calm that came alongside the ritual; the water cleansing them both of the past and preparing for the future.
Around them, mythical creatures were emerging from the depths of the lake, drawn by Han Yoojin’s presence.
The lake was beginning to glow with motes of green and blue, illuminated by the glow of its natural inhabitants circling around them. Han Yoojin’s eyes alighted with joy and he took a step forward, welcoming the creatures. They took to him warmly, nuzzling around him and fighting for attention.
Monsters had always liked hyung. It was no wonder he had fallen in love with one.
“Hyung?”
“Hmm?”
“I have something to confess.”
“What is it?”
“I’m not allergic to roses.”
The day of the wedding arrived.
If Han Yoohyun thought that Sung Hyunjae’s original wedding carriage was grand, it was nothing compared to the real thing. The ceremony itself was a lesson on decadence and extravagance. Large flowers were suspended in the air, lining the aisle and strung between guests, their petals bright and colorful. The floral air was fragrant with a subtle sweetness, reminiscent of the roses that Sung Hyunjae had first brought to Hayeon.
All around them, people were dressed in their finest silks, colored with violet and amaranth and coral, each outfit meant to outshine another.
And yet, none could compare to Sung Hyunjae and Han Yoojin.
Rumor had it that their outfits had taken months to complete. Kang Soyoung, on behalf of her king’s request, had confessed to taking a journey for weeks on end to find a specific color of dye. The details in their outfits were layered with hours of love and care. The seamstresses hard work showed.
Han Yoojin’s outfit was shaped to perfection, dressed in a pearl-colored tunic with sienna sleeves and a long translucent cape that weaved around his shoulders and followed his movements perfectly. The colors were almost richer than real, as if they had been stolen straight from a dream.
Beside him, Sung Hyunjae wore an ivory tunic with golden epaulets, a vermillion fur cloak wrapped around one side, held by a sun-shaped brooch. His golden crown was inlaid with gems and patterned, sunbeams dancing off the edges.
They were arm in arm, walking down the aisle, and Han Yoojin was smiling as though Sung Hyunjae had invented sunlight.
It wasn’t so bad, seeing Hyung and Sung Hyunjae together. Han Yoohyun could live with it. He had made his peace.
The truth was simple: Han Yoojin was happy. In the end, that was all that mattered.