memoir of a nuisance

If there is one thing about life on the royal grounds, it is that time passes by and it passes by quickly. And before anyone knew it, preparations for the Crown Prince’s birthday festival were coming to an end.

The actual day just a day away, and to say that the entirety of the palace was swarmed with tasks is an understatement. Everyone from the King himself down to the stable boys had something to do with preparations, and for the past week, ensuring that this celebration was flawless was the top priority. 

Beomgyu, though, did not really care at all about the celebration. Especially since overseeing the preparations was practically out of his hands. The Queen’s new maidservant, a young omega named Minjeong, took care of the preparations now. She was a sweet girl, competent and from a notable family.

Many other servants believe she’s only under the Queen’s wing to bring her and her family closer to actual nobility, to become an eligible prospect for any of the Princes. A common case for many notable families, sending one of their sons or daughters to work in the palace to spread their influence. Regardless, she’s done well taking over his past job and he has nothing to comment on about her.

In all honesty, Beomgyu thought the preparations for this year were less severe than last year.

Last year, Yeonjun had reached mating age and that was more of a special occasion. He turns 22 this year, but perhaps this year’s celebration feels a lot more packed and important due to the whispers of his upcoming mating ceremony that would take place.

Without a doubt, this birthday would be filled with hundreds of marriage prospects for the young prince. Every member of the Royal Council will be attending alongside their families, invitations were sent to other noble families across the land as well as anyone who has made a name for themselves.

It isn’t merely a birthday celebration; it is a political breeding ground for those who lust over power and greed.

Currently, Beomgyu has been tasked to help out with culinary preparations. He believes Lady Jangmi purposefully assigns him to culinary help because of Nakyoung’s neutrality with him. He doesn’t mind working in the kitchen though, he finds cooking quite interesting although he is not too good at it.

The kitchen itself was swarmed with the scent of spices and starch, the heat from the stone ovens turning the small space into a veritable furnace. For the past week, he felt as if he was in go-mode, working and working and working. It was deliberate, his body moving on instinct, but his mind was truthfully miles away from reality.

The chop of knives, the clatter of pots, all the sounds faded into the background as his thoughts were consumed by the same storm that had been brewing for weeks.

An embarrassment. You’re an embarrassment, Beomgyu.

The words echoed in his head, as sharp now as they had been then. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, willing the memory away, but it clung to him like a second skin. There was nothing more cunning, more demeaning than his own mind, especially when it came to his mother.

He hated how she could still affect him like this, after all these years, she had this power over him that he could not will away. Those cutting words had burrowed so deep beneath his skin. Worse, he hated that there was a part of him, a small, traitorous part that believed his mother was truly right— what had he ever done to prove otherwise?

At her core, his mother truly embodied traditional values and Beomgyu felt foolish for even bringing up his role as the Crown Prince’s servant in front of her. A male omega serving a male alpha was not only untraditional; it was downright sacrilegious and taboo.

He should have known that someone like his mother would be outraged by such a thought, feeling utterly dishonored by it. That night she had made it abundantly clear just how deeply she shamed him for it. But maybe it was the lingering faith, the tiny spark within him that had hoped that maybe, just maybe she would sympathize with him rather than berate.

Maybe it was the flicker of desperation that his mother, whom he always loved, would for once comfort him. But ever since that night, Beomgyu could only feel the shame run within him deeply, coursing through his veins. The words replayed in his mind like an endless whirlpool and there was nothing he could do about it. 

Beomgyu opened his eyes, shaking off the thoughts, and focused on mincing garlic.

Now wasn’t the time, in fact, he should be more focused than ever. But even the commotion within one of the busiest weeks in the year could not distract him, it only forced him to work even harder. The prince’s birthday festival was only days away and the palace grounds bustled with the chaos of final preparations. 

Nakyoung stood across the table, tall and broad-shouldered, her presence commanding without being overbearing. Yet she was the only one who treated him like an equal, which in a world like his, meant more than words could express.

Her sharp, attentive eyes missed nothing as she chopped vegetables in sync with him. Occasionally, she would glance at him though, her dark eyes filling with concern.

“Beomgyu,” Nakyoung’s voice cut through the haze of his thoughts, bringing him back to the present, “You’re spacing out once more.”

The omega snapped his neck up, “I apologize,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the din of the kitchen,  “Haven’t slept enough these days.”

Not necessarily a lie, but not the entire truth as well. But Nakyoung didn’t push. She never did.

“You came here at dawn, right?” she remarked, not looking up from her work, “You’re impressive, I’ll give you that. The Prince may even allow you to attend the celebration on time.”

Beomgyu snorted, keeping his gaze fixed on the garlic he was mincing, “I don’t care to go to the celebration early, Nakyoung. And I doubt the Prince has noticed any of my efforts.”

“Oh, he notices, believe me. They all do.” She tilted her head slightly, giving him a sidelong look “It’s the only reason they treat you the way they do.”

Beomgyu’s hands stilled momentarily, his expression shadowed. He had long since resigned himself to his place in the palace, but there were moments, fleeting moments when he wondered if there might have been a different life for him, if circumstances had allowed.

Nakyoung noticed his silence, her face softening, “You deserve better, you know,” she said, her voice low enough that only he could hear.

Beomgyu gave her a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes, “What I deserve doesn’t matter here, my duty does. But I appreciate the kind sentiment.”

And with that, he returned to his work. The thought of going to the festival made him feel ill, he truly did not want to attend. Every detail, from the food to the decorations to the seating arrangement, had passed through his hands in one way or another. And yet, when the night arrived, no one would know.

The credit would go to others—the court officials, the head chef, Minjeong. Even Nakyoung would be acknowledged for her efforts. But Beomgyu? He would remain invisible to praise. Even if acknowledged by others who work in the palace, that doesn’t mean those in charge view him in the same light. He doubted the Crown Prince knew truly how he had been the true conductor of this orchestra, the brilliant mind behind each and every preparation. 

Speaking of him, he hadn’t seen Yeonjun since that day in the rain, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Part of him was relieved—every encounter with the prince left him feeling raw, exposed in a way that made him uncomfortable. But another part of him, the part he tried so hard to bury, ached for something more .

It was ridiculous of course.

He was afraid of the Crown Prince in every sense possible. A man who made sure he knew of his place. That he was a mere servant, an omega with no future beyond the palace walls. And yet, there was something between them—something neither of them could fully acknowledge, but that lingered like a ghost, always just out of reach. 

The memory of their last conversation gnawed at him, the tension of it all and the way Yeonjun had blatantly told him to get out of his face. He had told himself over and over that he didn’t care what Yeonjun thought of him. But deep down, he knew that wasn’t true. That something between them, something that neither of them could truly place.

Beomgyu wasn’t sure if it was one of hatred or an unknown feeling beyond him. And what Beomgyu could never admit was that he wanted to be seen—not just as a servant, or as an omega, but as him. As Beomgyu. But how could that ever happen when even he wasn’t sure who he was?

———

The sun had barely begun to dip below the horizon when the day of the celebration finally arrived.

For days, he’d worked tirelessly and he remained in the background as the final arrangements were set. Beomgyu stood in his small room, staring at his reflection in the rusted metal bowl that hung on the wall. His fingers fumbled with the ties of his simple blue jeogori, the fabric worn and rough against his skin.

It was the best he had, his finest attire. The pale color washed him out, making his skin seem even more sallow under the dim light. He tugged at the sleeves, trying to smooth out the wrinkles, but no amount of adjusting could change that it was a servant’s clothes.

With a sigh, Beomgyu turned away from the rusted reflection. It didn’t matter how he looked. No one would be paying attention to him anyway as tonight, all eyes would be on the Crown Prince, the shining star of the celebration.

As he was gathering his thoughts, the sharp voice of Lady Jangmi broke through the quiet of his small room.

“Beomgyu,” she called, her tone neutral, “The Crown Prince requests your assistance.”

His heart raced at her words, Beomgyu quickly glanced at his reflection, a wave of anxiety washed over him. Although he is to be the prince’s personal servant, recently it seems as though he only serves when summoned, never really spending time by his side like he did with the queen.

So whenever he gets a summon, his heart races with the idea of what could Yeonjun want with him this time? 

“I’ll be there now, My Lady.” he replied, his voice faltering slightly as he stepped into the bustling corridors of the palace. 

The air smelled of incense and the sounds of servants working for the grand festival that awaited clung through the palace, but all of it faded into a dull background noise as Beomgyu’s heart raced with apprehension.

As he approached Yeonjun’s chambers, the familiar static in his chest tightened, making each step feel heavier than the last. He recalled his demeaning eyes during their last exchange, the way it seemed to pierce through him.

Pushing open the door, Beomgyu entered Yeonjun’s room, where the prince stood before a tall mirror wearing a luxurious hanbok that shimmered under the soft light. 

“Come in, Beomgyu,” Yeonjun called, his voice low.

His back was to him, but even from this angle, he could sense something coiling within him, the muscles in his shoulders taut as if he bore the weight of the world.

Beomgyu approached, “How may I assist you, Your Majesty?” he asked, striving to keep his voice steady, he is not sure he would ever get used to this.

“Help me dress, this attire is far too complicated just for me to deal with.” 

As he stepped closer, their eyes met in the mirror, and the omega felt a spark run down his spine. For a moment it felt as if the world outside the room faded, leaving only the two of them suspended in a silence pulling with tension.

Beomgyu’s breath caught in his throat, but before he could collect his thoughts, Yeonjun turned his focus back to the mirror, snapping him back to reality.

Swallowing hard, he reached for the delicate fabric, his fingers brushing against Yeonjun's skin as he began to fasten the ties.

“You look magnificent, Your Highness,” he murmured, hoping to ease things between them, but his heart was pounding louder than ever as the words felt awkward in his mouth. 

The scent of cinnamon and cedarwood flooded his nose once more, but this time it was radiating from the alpha himself. Warm, that’s what it was. A warm scent that felt like a blazing fire during a winter storm, a source of heat that was much needed. But that feeling of comfort that his scent gave off was quickly ruined by the sound of his voice.

Yeonjun snorted, “Magnificent? Didn’t think I’d ever hear those words come out of your mouth, Beomgyu.” 

The omega inhaled sharply, irritated slightly, “Am I not allowed to compliment you, Your Majesty? You are the Crown Prince, is being praised not something you enjoy?”

“There is much less to enjoy about being a Prince than compliments,” He responded, the coolness of his breath wafting over his nose, “But I don’t expect you to understand what that means.”

“What do you think I don’t understand?” He muttered whilst tightening the knots around his waist.

Beomgyu felt a bit confused about what he was trying to get at. As a servant, you must know everything about the mechanisms behind the Royal Family.

“Duty I am bound to,” The alpha replied, his tone stern and harder than before, “Dreams I must achieve. The role of a prince is more complicated than you’d probably think.” He soulessly chuckled, “And I don’t expect you would understand any of it.” 

His words struck like a whip, sending a jolt of indignation through Beomgyu. He would argue, to the end of every being, that he understands the roles of the Crown Prince more than the latter would with him. His entire life revolved around him and the Royal Family, everything he does and speaks of is in favor of them, to serve them, to devote his life to them.

Since he was old enough to speak, Beomgyu had been drilled into him the expectations of the world and those living within it, and what is also expected of him. Therefore he couldn’t help but feel angered at such an accusation, that he does not know of duty. 

Duty is all he knows.

“Some think because I’m an omega, I lack duty but it is quite the opposite.” Beomgyu replied, a bit harsher than he intended, “You’d be surprised at things servants know regarding your position in life, albeit different than mine.”

Yeonjun turned, eyes narrowing downwards, “You servants always speak cluelessly.” He scoffed, tone laced with a faint sneer, “Let me ask then, do you truly enjoy this, Beomgyu?”

The omega felt his breath falter, “I’m not sure what you mean, Your Majesty.”

“Serving.” He enunciated harshly, “Or is that all you’re capable of, being...obedient without ambition?”

Beomgyu’s jaw tightened, the familiar ache of anger stirring within him. He kept his voice steady,

“Not everyone has the luxury of ambition, Your Majesty.”

Yeonjun let out a bitter chuckle, his eyes gleaming with something unkind,

“Is that your defense? That you’re bound to your rank as if it’s the only thing you’re fit for?”

The brown haired boy felt his scent sour, humiliation seeping through. Because, yes, that was his defense. But how could it not be? In a world as harsh, as judging as this one, his rank is the bare minimum behind anything he could or could not do. And a bastard omega can only be just that. 

“Seeing as you have nothing to say, I assume that I’m right.” The prince hummed, eyeing the man up and down, “Perhaps your own ignorance is why you do not understand beyond that.”

The omega’s breath quickened, a tinge of burnt honey and rotting orange seeping from his skin as hurt boiled within him. Ignorance is not what he would call his demeanor, no, he would call himself realistic.

But he knows too that a prince who is also an alpha would never understand what its like to live in his shoes. 

He exhaled, speaking just above a whisper as a languid reply left his mouth, “And what do you know of my own duties? Of my own dreams?” 

Yeonjun took a step closer, cinnamon filling the air, “Is that not a question you should be asking yourself, Beomgyu? If not, then indulge me, tell me proudly what it is you dream of.” 

Beomgyu felt his chest heave and rise quickly, staring the alpha in his eyes whose gaze only reflected the anger within his. He wanted to argue back more, scream at him of his own frustrations, his own dignitude, what he longs for, but, the voice of his mother rang within his ears, her words of shame and embarrassment, and within his chest, he felt a wave of fear come over him. 

There was no use.

There was absolutely no use in explaining anything to someone like Yeonjun, someone who doesn't care, who he doesn’t understand. And who would never take the time of day to truly see him. No matter what he said, no matter if he detailed the abuse from his mother, the hatred that society showed him, how little he truly mattered, Yeonjun would never understand.

For the alpha is blessed, he is truly the lucky one. One day, he will be a father to his own kids who will bear his last name, he will have a wife that loves him, a nation that worships him, someplace to call home. And Beomgyu will be nothing but his stepping stool. 

Beomgyu felt his throat tighten at the thought so he lowered his gaze and kept silent, his scent now lingering softly, muted, and beaten. He kept quiet and gave no response, reaching out instead to straighten out the Crown Prince’s jeogori before walking over to the embroidered tall crown that sat elegantly beside him. 

Grabbing the crown, he placed it in the hands of Yeonjun who had not said anything once, he only stared and watched the omega’s moves with anticipation. The disappointment when he realized that Beomgyu would do nothing instead was evident in the bitterness of his scent. 

“I believe you are ready, your festival awaits you, Your Majesty.” Beomgyu stated neutrally, bowing his head.

Raising his head, he could see Yeonjun’s knuckles tighten around the crown, his scent now flaring into one of frustration. The omega refused to make eye contact once more.

“You are weak, Beomgyu” His voice was taut and harsh, “You refuse to see beyond your position so how do you expect to rise above it?”

Beomgyu’s chest tightened, each word from Yeonjun digging deeper into his heart,

“I only know what I know, Your Majesty. Do not blame me for it.” His voice trembled slightly as he spoke.

There was no use.

Yeonjun did not say anything, instead he scoffed as he always did, unbelieving and belittling as he walked away whilst putting on his crown. And Beomgyu sincerely felt like bursting into tears, ashamed and hopeless. This is exactly what he feared, there was no possible way he and Yeonjun would ever get along in the way a servant and a prince should. 

Not when Beomgyu is too afraid to stand up for himself and Yeonjun is too close minded to understand him. 

Just then, Lady Jangmi’s voice cut through the heavy silence.

“Beomgyu, the festival is about to start. Come with me.” She called from the corridor, and Beomgyu nodded, the weight of the argument settling heavily on his shoulders.

As he left the room, the heaviness in his chest felt suffocating, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were teetering on the brink of something far more significant than mere animosity.

———

The grand courtyard of the palace was transformed as lanterns lined the pathways, glimmering in shades of gold, black, and crimson.

Silk banners hung on the arches and bore symbols of prosperity and longevity. Musicians tuned their instruments near the pavilion, preparing melodies that would echo across the palace ground. But as dazzling as the scene was, Beomgyu felt detached from it all. As he watched the nobles gather and laugh, he realized that for all his effort, he was just another figure flitting behind the scenes.

When he entered the courtyard itself, the crowd was already assembled, waiting in hushed reverence for the Crown Prince’s arrival. Beomgyu stayed toward the back, observing the scene with a practiced detachment.

The nobles wore extravagant garments in vibrant colors; pearls and jade decorated their hair. The queen herself wore the red jeogori he’d chosen for her, and she looked absolutely radiant. A bittersweet pride settled within him, no one would know he had chosen her attire, but in his heart, it was enough to see her wear it so elegantly.

Just then, a murmur rippled through the crowd, and Beomgyu’s gaze shifted toward the main entrance. Yeonjun appeared and the courtyard erupted into a flurry of activity as the Crown Prince approached. The rhythmic sound of drums echoed off the stone walls, and the crowd parted as Yeonjun entered, his royal red and gold robes billowing behind him like a living tapestry.

And Beomgyu found himself holding his breath as the alpha stepped into view. Even after all these years, after every fight and argument, he had the ability to steal the breath from Beomgyu’s lungs.

Yeonjun’s presence was magnetic. His dark hair, tied back in a high, regal topknot, the crown resting atop his head, and his eyes, sharp and clear, scanned the crowd with the ease of someone who had been born into command. the very image of royalty. For a brief, agonizing moment, their eyes met and Beomgyu’s heart lurched in his chest.

The air seemed to thicken, the pettiness from their discussion beforehand still a fresh wound in his mind. But just as quickly as the moment came, it passed, and Yeonjun’s attention was drawn back to the ceremony.

Just as he had overlooked a month ago, the celebrations started and everything was perfect. From the dancers who moved with grace, singers who bellowed beautifully,the food proudly eaten by everyone in attendance, gifts upon gifts placed in his stead. Truly, a perfect celebration.

As the prince stepped up onto the grand platform, the Queen then approached, holding a familiar sword— once forged from metals passed down through generations of Kings. The sword gleamed in the lantern light, its blade polished to perfection.

The Queen’s voice rang out across the courtyard, clear and steady as she presented the weapon to her son.

“For my beloved son, Yeonjun,” she said, her voice carrying over the crowd. “May this sword guide you in your future reign, as it has guided our family for centuries.”

Yeonjun bowed deeply, accepting the sword with reverence. There was something different in the prince’s eyes tonight—something more vulnerable, as though the weight of his future was finally settling on his shoulders. 

“I would like to give my thanks to everyone who prepared this celebration,” Yeonjun spoke towards the crowd,

“I could not be more proud of the people alongside me, in many ways, I feel blessed to be the future ruler of such fine people.”

The people around him erupted in cheers, a crowd filled with servants, nobles, officials alike. Yeonjun truly had a way with words and with the people, an admiration that none of the other Royal Family held. 

“And I’d like to give a special thank you to Minjeong, my mother’s maidservant who overlooked this celebration,” Yeonjun said as he turned towards the girl standing beside the Queen,

“This festival is perfect, Lady Minjeong. You’ve truly outdone yourself.”

Minjeong bowed deeply in return, blush evident in her cheeks and a proud smile on her face. And Beomgyu could not help but feel a deep, sharp pang of resentment.

It had been his work.

He was the one who had spent countless hours planning, preparing every detail but he wasn’t surprised. This was the way of things, and he bet if it was still him standing up there, Yeonjun would not have thanked him. Because he is not a female omega, because he is not someone to be respected. 

The Queen’s eyes, however, found him in the crowd. When Yeonun announced to commence the festivities once more, she glided over to where Beomgyu stood, her movements graceful, every inch the queen she was. She reached out and gently took his hand in hers, her fingers warm and soft.

“Thank you, Beomgyu,” she whispered, her voice low enough that only he could hear. “You’ve done more than anyone could ask. I know this festival is as much yours as it is anyone’s.”

For a moment, Beomgyu couldn’t breathe. Her words, simple as they were, filled him with a warmth he hadn’t expected. It wasn’t praise from the court, and it wasn't recognition from Yeonjun, no, it was a genuine thanks from someone he depended on, someone who cared for him. A kindness he hadn’t felt in weeks.

“Thank you, my Queen, I could not have done this without you though. You look beautiful tonight, as well.”

She laughed softly, “Why, I wonder who helped me choose such a beautiful outfit!” Then, she pulled him into a warm embrace, “You look just as beautiful as well, Beomgyu. The spitting image of your mother.”

Beomgyu felt his mouth sour at the mention of her. It clicked that she does not know of the way his mother treats him, the way her past best friend hates her only son. But he does not say anything, he simply thanks her once more and returns the hug whilst ignoring the turmoil within.

The celebration continued late into the night, the courtyard alive with music, laughter, and wine. But Beomgyu couldn’t stay any longer, the more time he spent at the festival, the more overwhelmed he felt. The weight of the night, of everything that had passed between him and Yeonjun, the thoughts of his mother— it was all too much.

In many ways, he felt like a ticking pressure bomb. And more and more pressure kept being added, at this point, he wasn’t sure when he would explode. Therefore, he was doing everything in his power to prevent that.

So he slipped away from the grand courtyard, his footsteps silent as he made his way to the quieter edges of the palace grounds.

The cool night air was a relief, a sharp contrast to the heat and noise of the festival. He found himself at the old well, a place he often came to when he needed to think. The stone structure stood silent in the moonlight, its edges worn smooth by years of use. Beomgyu leaned over the edge, dipping his hands into the cold water and splashing his face.

The shock of it grounded him, pulling him back from the whirlwind of emotions that had been swirling inside him all night. He was about to turn away when he heard footsteps behind him.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the Queen’s favorite omega,” a voice sneered, one he did not recognize.

Beomgyu’s heart sank as he turned to see Lord Kyungho and his brother, Lord Kyungmin.

Both of them are Yeonjun’s distant cousins on his father’s side and as they approached, their eyes gleamed with malice. Growing up, they always joined Yeonjun in teasing and bullying him whenever they would visit. They were both alphas, tall and broad-shouldered, their faces twisted with smug amusement that made him feel sick to his stomach.

His instincts told him to run, to get out of here, but logic told him there was truly no way out. Whatever happens, he would be overpowered immensely. So he did what he thought was reasonable and stood his ground.

“What’s the issue, my Lords?” 

Kyungmin chuckled, the sound of it reverberating throughout the small courtyard, “You are the issue, Beomgyu. Or so we’ve been told.”

“You think you’re something a little special, don’t you?” Kyungho added on, stepping closer to the point where they cornered the male,  “Since you’re our cousin’s personal servant now?”

Taken aback, Beomgyu eyebrows furrowed, and tried to defend himself, “That’s not true—”

Kyungho interrupted, laughing sardonically, “Enough with the excuses, Beomgyu, everyone knows an omega probably slept around with the Council to get your position.”

Beomgyu scoffed, unsure of what was going on around him, a tinge of fear spiking through his scent, “That is not what happened-” 

“Tell me, Beomgyu, how was it? Being fucked by the Minister? You liked it?” Kyungho kept nagging, stepping closer and closer, 

“Who’s next on your list? Our sweet Crown Prince Yeonjun?”

The air filled with the scent of dreaded oranges and honey, his instincts knew well that these two alphas were not to be trusted, that they were up to no good. And he was afraid.

Before he could react and defend himself, the other alpha grabbed the bucket of water from the well and tipped it over his head. The cold water drenched him, soaking through his clothes and sending a shiver down his spine. Laughter echoed around him, but all Beomgyu could feel was the sting of humiliation, the cold seeping into his bones.

“Oops,” Kyungmin mocked, grinning. “I was afraid he’d start his heat at the thought of it, a cold bath should help out right?.”

Beomgyu stood there, frozen, his wet clothes clinging to his skin, his breath shallow and ragged. His heart pounded in his chest, anger and fear swirling inside him, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t.

Those two, just like every other person he grew up with, enjoyed humiliating him. Always did. Even at this grown age, whenever they found the chance to do so, they’d take it. And Beomgyu truly felt like an idiot for thinking no one would try anything tonight. A night with too many people to serve as a distraction.

They stepped closer to him, and he took a step back each time, trying to find his voice to fight back but simply couldn’t.

“What’s going on here?” A low voice cut through the night like a knife.

Beomgyu turned, his breath catching in his throat. Crown Prince Yeonjun stood a few feet away, his gaze fixed on the scene before him. His cousins stiffened at the sight of him, their smug grins fading into something more uncertain.

“This is your present, my beloved cousin, one from the old days!” Kyungmin said, forcing a smirk, “We thought you’d enjoy it.”

Yeonjun’s  lips pressed into a thin line as he stepped forward, his presence suddenly overwhelming. Beomgyu could feel the tension in the air shift, the weight of the prince’s authority settling over them like a thick, oppressive fog.

“I see.” The prince hummed, his voice ringing throughout the air.

How long had he been standing there? How much did he hear?  Beomgyu thought, unsure of how this situation would even play out.

He stood frozen, water still dripping from his soaked clothes. The chill of the night cut through him, but it was nothing compared to the cold in Yeonjun’s eyes.

The alpha’s face was a mask of indifference, the usual disdain etched into his sharp features. As the silence stretched on, though, Beomgyu found himself wanting Yeonjun to defend him . Just like he did in front of the Royal Council. To say something, anything that might indicate that he didn’t deserve this humiliation.

But no words came and Beomgyu felt his demeanor sink even more.

Yeonjun’s cousins shifted awkwardly, the confidence that had filled their smirking faces just moments ago now gone. The tension in the air was palpable as they awaited the prince’s reaction, expecting him to laugh or perhaps join in on the mockery.

But Yeonjun said nothing, his gaze locked on Beomgyu’s shivering form, as if weighing something far more significant than this petty act of cruelty.

One of the cousins, Kyungho, desperate to ease the thick silence, dared to speak. “Come on, Yeonjun hyung,” he said, his voice forced, cracking with an uncertainty that wasn’t there before.

“It’s just a bit of fun. The bastard omega needs to know his place.”

Beomgyu flinched at the word, even though he had heard it countless times, it always struck like a sharp slap in the face. 

Yeonjun’s lips curled into a smirk, “This is fun?”

The cousins exchanged nervous glances, “You know how it is,” the other cousin said, trying to laugh it off. “He’s just a servant. A bit of water—no harm done.”

“And what, exactly, do you believe I should enjoy about this?”

The weight of his words silenced them completely. The bravado drained from their faces, leaving them looking like scolded children. Beomgyu watched it all unfold, his heart pounding, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. He couldn’t afford to. 

“You two can go for now, I’ll deal with your…gift to me.” Yeonjun said finally.

His cousins exhaled sighs of relief before scurrying away, but Yeonjun’s gaze never wavered from the shivering omega.

There was a long, excruciating moment where neither of them spoke. All Beomgyu could think of is how Yeonjun said nothing to his cousins and let them off the hook. 

Beomgyu’s wet clothes clung to him, the wetness biting into his skin, but it was the silence between them that hurt the most. This sight of his weakened self is probably amusing to him, only putting on a front to his cousins to seem like a benevolent Crown Prince.

And the thought of that only pained him more. Beomgyu swallowed, his throat was tight, but something in him snapped. He had been humiliated enough tonight—by the cousins, by the festival that was never his, by Yeonjun himself. 

“You heard what they said, didn’t you?” He spoke slowly, hanging his head low and shamed.

Yeonjun turned to him, and nodded, “I did.”

And in a casual way he spoke, as if he did not care of such accusations, as if he did not care of the cruel treatment towards the omega. It angered Beomgyu to see such indifference, and he did not know why.

A part of him, a small pathetic part of him, had hoped the alpha would have defended him, recognized their act as crude and did something about it. A foolish hope, he now knows. And the embarrassment of being foolish angered him even more.

He couldn’t help but scoff, “This…this is what you enjoy, isn't it?” Beomgyu spoke quietly yet unable to escape his frustration. “To see me like this. You’ve always enjoyed humiliating me, haven’t you?”

For a brief moment, Beomgyu thought he saw a flicker of something, guilt, maybe, or regret, in Yeonjun’s eyes but it was gone in an instant, replaced by cold indifference.

The alpha’s jaw tightened, “You think this is what I want?”

“I understand enough, Your Majesty, You don’t have to say it.” Beomgyu bit back the bitterness rising in his throat. “You’ve always made it clear what you think of me.”

“And what is it that I think of you?” The alpha inquired, taking a step closer to the shivering male.

Beomgyu bit back the sting of his retort, his throat burning with unsaid words that wanted nothing more but to claw their way out. But he kept his silence, this time, his rationality kicking in. He had already begun to cross a line by speaking what he truly thought, and he knew not to cross it completely.

Especially since he knows the consequence of doing something of that sort.

“Humiliating…” Yeonjun murmured, almost to himself, but loud enough for Beomgyu to hear. “You wouldn’t understand an ounce of what I think of you, even if I told you.”

Silence beat into the air at those words, an implication behind it that he did not understand.

“I am taking my leave, your Majesty. It is quite cold and I only wish to be warm.” Beomgyu muttered, tired and worn out. Without another glance, he turned on his heel, storming off into the shadows of the palace.

And when he reached the quarters of the servant, the emotions brewing within finally broke as tears poured down his face endlessly.

There is no use.

———

The following day, Beomgyu felt as if his body automatically went on go-mode.

Ever since he was young, whenever he wanted to block out any feeling he felt towards those who demean him, he’d distract himself with whatever he could. Currently, he watched as he moved mechanically, folding kitchen linens in the servant’s quarters.

Each fold was sharp, precise but it was more of an attempt to control his anxiety than any real desire to tidy up. The sharp edges of the fabric felt like a distraction against the overwhelming guilt gnawing at him.

He had spoken too bluntly with the Crown Prince and for what? An incident that he should have let go of, something he could have brushed off without a second thought. But no, last night, he had allowed his frustration to spill out in reckless words.

He had insulted Yeonjun, questioned his morals and said things he would never have dared say if he had been thinking clearly.

The more Beomgyu reflected on it, the more embarrassed he became. He had long ago learned not to expect any gestures of kindness from the prince. And the instance during the royal council seemed to be a one time thing, so he felt even more stupid for thinking the prince would do anything to save him one more time.

Yet the memory of what happened still stung. Whenever he closed his eyes, he could feel the chill spike of the water seep into his bones, the words the cousins said to him so languidly and harshly, the utter humiliation of it all. And the way Yeonjun did nothing. 

Why should he care now?   Beomgyu’s internal monologue was sharp and biting. I was foolish to think last night would be any different.

As he folded the final linen, his thoughts were interrupted by a whispered conversation drifting from the other room. He paused, catching snippets of a conversation that made his heart skip a beat.

“...can’t believe they’re actually gone,” one of them said, her voice tinged with awe.

“His cousins? Surely you’re joking,” replied another. “Why would the Crown Prince send his own blood away? It doesn’t make sense.”

Beomgyu froze, the linen slipping from his grasp. His cheeks burned as he bent to retrieve it, his hands trembling slightly.

“I heard they were punished for—” 

But before he could tune in to the end of their gossip, a brunt, gruff voice startled him, “Hey, you there— the omega.” 

He glanced up to see the head kitchen cook glaring at him. “If you’re done eavesdropping, get out of my kitchen. The linens won’t fold themselves.”

Mumbling an apology, Beomgyu grabbed his stack of linens and hurried out, his mind racing. Sent them away? He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. The cousins had been arrogant and condescending, and they treated Beomgyu like dirt beneath their boots.

But for Yeonjun to send them away for simply that act? The idea seemed quite far-fetched and a majority part of him believed that it was just exaggerated gossip.

Beomgyu moved through the quiet corridors of the palace, his arms full of neatly folded linens that he had finished in silence. He didn’t mind the work; in fact, it gave him something to focus on, something to occupy his restless mind.

He paused by the storeroom, carefully stacking the linens in their place. His hands trembled slightly as he arranged the pile, thousands of thoughts racing through his mind like wildfire. But Beomgyu shook his head, forcing himself to focus. It didn’t matter now. All that matters is what the prince was going to do with him.

The day went on, and just as night began to fall and he was ready to go and bathe, he turned to see a royal attendant standing in the doorway.

“His Highness has summoned you,” she said simply before disappearing down the hall, leaving him standing there.

A summons from Yeonjun. 

Of course.

Beomgyu’s pulse quickened as he made his way toward the prince’s chambers. Was he to be punished for his insolence the night before? That is what truly terrified him, he doesn’t care for rumors or gossip or anything of that sort; he knows the realities of what he did and knows he stepped out of line the night before.

The last time he had acted immaturely and disrespected the prince was when he was 17, and the consequences of that action was physically scarred on his back. 

When he reached the door, he hesitated, his hand hovering over the handle. Taking a deep breath, he knocked softly.

“Come in.”

The voice was steady, commanding, and unmistakable. Beomgyu pushed the door open, stepping inside. Yeonjun stood by the window, his back to the door, the fading light shaping his silhouette in sharp relief.

He didn’t turn as the omega entered, and the scent of cedarwood and cinnamon pummeled into his nostrils, overwhelming his every being and seeping deeply into his skin. 

“You summoned me, Your Majesty,” Beomgyu spoke carefully, as if he was treading the waters of an incoming storm.

Yeonjun didn’t respond immediately, the silence stretching on and pulsing loudly every passing second. And at that moment, Beomgyu was sure he was to be punished. The heavy and suffocating atmosphere made it clear, and he couldn’t help but somewhat panic.

The beating of his heart was loud enough for anyone to hear, quickening every second. Finally, he turned, his eyes meeting Beomgyu’s with an intensity that made his chest tighten.

“Close the door.”

He obeyed, the soft click of the latch echoing loudly in the stillness. He stood there, his hands at his sides, afraid and reeling into his anxieties. 

“I…” Beomgyu began abruptly, his voice faltering under Yeonjun’s piercing gaze. “Your Majesty, please allow me to apologize sincerely for last night. I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did. It was extremely disrespectful, and I—”

“No.” Yeonjun cut him off sharply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

His eyes flickered with irritation, though not the anger Beomgyu had anticipated and it shook him to the core. “Don’t apologize.”

He blinked, startled by the response. Of all the responses he had expected, this wasn’t one of them. Relief flooded his senses but also a sense of genuine disbelief, he spoke out once more, “But—”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Yeonjun repeated, stepping closer to the omega, “You were honest with me, weren’t you?”

The question shocked him harder, he dropped his gaze and nodded reluctantly, “I was,” he admitted, the words barely above a whisper.

“Then stop pretending to be someone you’re not around me, I appreciate honesty,” He stated intensely, “I’m not a tyrant you need to fear.” 

The alpha’s expression then softened just slightly, “But about last night, I.. if you think I would let my cousins treat you like that without consequences, you’re wrong.”

Beomgyu’s stomach clenched at the words. His cousins? The words of gossip from the palace staff rushed back, and the realization dawned on him. He stared at the alpha with an uncertainty in his eyes, his voice trembling.

“What do you mean?”

“I sent them away,” Yeonjun said simply, his voice firm, unyielding,  “I had them dealt with for what they did. For how they treated you.”

The words struck Beomgyu like a physical blow. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing, “You sent them away?” he finally managed disbelief coloring his voice.

“Of course I did.” Yeonjun’s expression hardened, though his eyes betrayed something softer beneath the surface.

“And don’t think this is some noble gesture for you. This is about the House of Choi—about what we’re both willing to tolerate. What I’m willing to tolerate.”

Beomgyu’s heart ached, a confusing mix of emotions swirling inside him, the weight of his golden crest suddenly heavier.  Last night he wanted Yeonjun to do something, to act on it, but when he didn’t in the moment, he felt an overwhelming sense of disappointment.

And he has spent the entire day accepting the truth of where he stands in the prince’s world, that he is nothing but servant. But this situation and result is making him question everything.

He bowed his head slightly to hide his expression, “You didn’t have to do that, Your Majesty.”

“Don’t say that,” He snapped, “I don’t act without reason. They disrespected you and by doing so, they disrespected me. Therefore it is my problem. Understand?”

Beomgyu met his gaze, feeling the weight of the golden pin that hung on his shirt, and the fierce intensity in Yeonjun’s eyes. “I understand,” he spoke, though the words felt hollow.

Did he understand? Could he?

Silence overcame the room once more but only for a brief second before the alpha walked over, pulling out a chair from his table and gesturing towards it. Beomgyu hesitated but then obeyed, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on.

With every step and action, the prince did not take his eyes off of him once, observing him as if he was a wolf waiting to pounce on a young fawn. He perched on the edge of the chair, his hands clasped tightly in his lap as he waited for Yeonjun to speak.

“From here on out,” The alpha began, “You will serve by my side, at all times. Just as my mother had originally dedicated you to do.”

Another silence settled once more after Yeonjun’s words, though the weight of his declaration lingered in the air like a storm waiting to break. Beomgyu felt his heart pick up in speed, completely unprepared for anything that had happened in the last ten minutes. He knew he was to be a personal servant but he was getting accustomed to only serving when summoned.

His fingers began to twitch in his lap, his eyes fixed on the patterns carved into the wooden table before him rather than on the prince. He could feel the alpha’s gaze on him, sharp and unyielding and it took every ounce of restraint not to shrink under the intensity.

“As your Majesty commands,” Beomgyu bowed his head, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind.

Yeonjun’s lips curved downwards ever so slightly, “As I’ve said, I expect honesty from all my subordinates, including you. If you disagree with me, speak . If you see something I do not, tell me . I have no use for a servant who cowers and parrots words of obedience without thought.”

Beomgyu’s heart thudded against his ribcage, the words were meant as a direct jab to him, to the conversation they previously had before the festival. He swallowed hard before looking up into the dark orbs of the alpha.

“You...you are my prince.” He spoke softly but with a tone of indignation, and he noted how the prince’s gaze faltered at his words, something swirling within,

“My place is to serve, not question. Even if you believe otherwise.”

“To you, a servant means to be a puppet, doesn’t it?” Yeonjun replied, taking the silent response of the omega as an agreement, “But, to me, a servant ensures that I lead wisely. That means being truthful, even if it risks my wrath.”

The words struck Beomgyu like a physical blow. Yeonjun spoke as if it were so simple, as if defying him wouldn’t result in consequences.

But there was something in the prince’s voice—a thread of sincerity that made Beomgyu hesitate. He dared to glance up again, meeting Yeonjun’s piercing gaze for the briefest of moments before looking away again.

“Do you understand?” He pressed.

“I do,” Beomgyu replied, his voice a mere whisper.

“Good.” The alpha straightened, crossing his arms as he regarded Beomgyu with an unreadable expression, “You’ll move into quarters closer to mine. You’ll handle my schedule, oversee my affairs, and attend to anything I require. I’m sure you know of all this well enough.”

Beomgyu nodded, his throat dry, “Of course, Your Majesty.”

“And one more thing,” Yeonjun added, his voice dropping to a quieter, almost intimate tone, “I want you to stop looking at me like I’m about to hurt you or something.”

Beomgyu froze, his head snapping up in surprise. Yeonjun’s expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something that unsettled him deeply.

“You act as though every word from my mouth is a threat,” Yeonjun continued, his gaze never leaving Beomgyu’s,

“Things will change now. You won’t have to worry about it. Do you think you can manage that?”

Beomgyu swallowed hard, his fingers digging into his palms, “I… I’ll try.”

Yeonjun hummed, tilting his head slightly, “Trying is a start.”

The room fell silent once more, but this time it wasn’t oppressive. It was… charged, the air thick with something unspoken. Yeonjun’s eyes lingered on Beomgyu for a moment longer before he turned, walking toward the window.

“You’re dismissed for now,” he said without looking back, “But don’t stray far. We begin tomorrow.”

Beomgyu rose, bowing low before retreating toward the door. His mind swirled with questions and unease as he stepped into the corridor. What did Yeonjun truly want from him? And why, despite everything, did part of him feel as though he was being drawn into something far greater than mere duty?

———

As the days passed, Beomgyu found himself slowly adapting to a rhythm he never could have predicted, something he couldn’t really describe.

Every morning, he’d wake up before the sun had even begun to rise. He would make his way through the silent hallways, the cool wooden floors cold beneath his feet, the soft hum of the palace the only sound that accompanied him.

As he reached the prince’s chambers, a familiar knot would form in his stomach and the tension that hung in the air only grew more pronounced with every step he took.

Every morning began the same way. Beomgyu would enter the room, always standing a few steps behind the prince, eyes lowered respectfully, posture stiff but eager.

Yeonjun would sit at his desk and Beomgyu would silently, almost reflexively, begin organizing the piles of papers, arranging the scrolls, lighting the lamps to keep the room aglow with the morning’s gentle light.

When Yeonjun said things would change, that he wouldn’t have to worry anymore, Beomgyu didn’t really take it to heart.

But he was completely unprepared by what dynamic began.

The hours were spent in silence more often than not, punctuated by Yeonjun’s occasional requests. Sometimes he would glance at Beomgyu, make conversation but it was nothing relevant or important.

It was a dynamic completely different from the one he had with the queen; they would spend hours in conversation, laughing and talking, he would pick out her outfits for the day, help her get ready, listen to her when she needed to vent, offer advice if she asked for it.

But Yeonjun, the future king, was a stark difference to this.  For starters, he would always be dressed and ready by the time Beomgyu arrived at his chambers. And he’d dismiss Beomgyu whenever it was time to clock out for the day and relax. He never looked his way, never laughed or smiled around him, never truly spoke to him. 

It was cold. 

Colder than anything he was used to. 

Beomgyu hadn’t expected it, no, he expected the casual remarks of disdain and judgment he was used to. But none of it came his way, instead, he got absolutely nothing. Not that he hadn’t expected more. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to properly bond with a prince so completely distant from him, so shut out.

So, in a way, this new dynamic brought a new light that Beomgyu took to his advantage. Instead of using his mouth and words like he would with the queen, he used his eyes and mind to simply observe and take note.

Observe a man he never understood, a man who he never could figure out.

The fact that Yeonjun took him everywhere helped. He would have Beomgyu sit with him during council meetings, dinners, late nights, early mornings, on the training field, just everywhere. And although the prince wouldn’t really speak to him, it was a change that he definitely used to simply watch and watch and watch.

He learned Yeonjun’s habits, the subtle shifts in his mood, the slight changes in his tone that signaled an order. It was a delicate dance of observation, where every movement, every word, every gesture had a purpose.

At times the tasks seemed trivial; serving him his morning tea with a careful hand, ensuring the exact right temperature and flavors, but to Yeonjun, the details mattered and he couldn’t afford to make a mistake. 

He found himself starting to notice the little things about Yeonjun too—his mannerisms, his way of being, the way he would unconsciously run his fingers through his hair when deep in thought, the way he bit his cheek when he was bored, how he would fidget with a writing brush and twirl it between his fingers, how he preferred deep colors such as burgundy, navy, forest green over pastels.

Beomgyu began to notice everything.

When Yeonjun was frustrated with a task or a decision, Beomgyu found himself quietly looking, trying to understand why he felt that way. Though he knew his place as a servant, he also knew that the value of his position now went beyond simple errands. If Yeonjun would ever need his advice, his perspective, he wanted to be prepared to give it.

He had to prove himself worthy of the trust Yeonjun and the queen had placed in him, even if that trust was fragile.

This much was clear to him though: Yeonjun was a dedicated man, unlike most noble alphas he knew. It was a side of him he never expected. Of course, the prince still enjoyed going out with his companions, hosting social gatherings, spending nights drinking and living his youth out. That was the side he always knew of the alpha, the careless, reckless man who had the freedom to do whatever he wanted whenever.

But, most times, the man was cooped up in his chambers dealing with paperwork, attending meetings, upholding his reputation for his future reign, networking and holding diplomacy. He knew that this was a part of his duties as crown prince, but he didn’t really know how much work the alpha really put into it.

Beomgyu sort of began to respect him for it, for his dedication to his title. And in many ways, this cold dynamic between them, one that grew as fall began to breathe deeply and the wind blew much more bitterly than before as October approached, was a bit comforting.

Somehow by getting closer to Yeonjun, the prince distanced himself further. They didn’t speak, therefore they never argued. A silent, unbidden treatment.

It was strange. Despite being so close, the space between them seemed to grow wider with every passing day. In a way he would never admit out loud, that only his heart knew, this new life was very isolating as well.

Beomgyu anticipated the prince’s needs before he could voice them; he served him without question, without complaint. though each interaction left him feeling like a ghost.

Although there was no more anger bubbling beneath the surface, no more biting words or harsh stares. Yeonjun had retreated into his own world, and Beomgyu, for all his frustrations, couldn’t help but appreciate the calm that came with it.

But that calm was a double-edged sword, and Beomgyu soon realized that there was a darker side to this peace. 

As the days passed, he found himself drawn further into Yeonjun’s orbit, and yet, at the same time, pulled further away from everything else. The more time he spent by the prince’s side, the less he interacted with anyone else. He rarely saw other servants, barely seeing Lady Jangmi or Nakyoung. His world had become a small, isolated space, defined by Yeonjun’s presence, and in the midst of it all, something was changing in him.

———

The early morning sun streamed through the high windows of Yeonjun's chambers, the prince was already dressed, his robes rich with the deep blue and gold of his station, a crown of fine embroidery outlining the edges of his sleeves.

He was preparing for the day’s council meeting, and Beomgyu did his duty to help the prince organize his affairs.

“Get the letters from the desk. I need them all organized by noon.” The prince spoke sternly, not even looking his way.

Beomgyu nodded, ignoring the way his throat tightened. He stepped forward, doing as instructed and moved to the large oak desk, his fingers brushing over the parchment, hesitating before picking up the first letter.

“Be quick about it,” Yeonjun added from across the room, his back turned to the omega. The coldness in his voice felt like an icy wave crashing over Beomgyu. This is his duty, he reminded himself.

He had no right to feel anything other than what he had been trained to feel. Gratitude for service, for carrying out responsibilities. But as Beomgyu prepared the letters, his hands shaking ever so slightly, he couldn’t ignore the dull ache in his chest. 

This was his life now. 

He doesn’t remember the last time he even held a genuine conversation with anyone, caught up in a new riptide that he can’t swim out of. And this ocean was freezing, desolating, and he was alone. Utterly and terrifyingly alone. 

Yeonjun didn’t turn around as Beomgyu worked, his attention elsewhere, on some fleeting matter of his royal responsibilities. The silence between them became their friend, and during moments like these, sometimes Beomgyu finds himself wanting to speak.

But he couldn’t bring himself to speak. What could he say? What was there to say? The power dynamic was so stark, so ingrained that even the air between them felt unyielding.

When the brown haired male finally finished, he stood silently, waiting for Yeonjun to acknowledge his presence. The prince glanced over his shoulder, his eyes scanning Beomgyu with a clinical, uninterested gaze.

“Leave the letters on the table and leave,” Yeonjun ordered, the indifference in his voice unmistakable, “Come back around before evening, I need you for the meeting.” 

Beomgyu bit back the sting in his chest, lowering his gaze to the floor before walking out without another word. The door closed behind him with a quiet thud, and Beomgyu exhaled shakily, as though he had been holding his breath for hours.

What was he doing here?   Will this be the rest of his life? He had never felt so invisible, so insignificant.

Later in the evening, the omega stood in the shadow of the room, watching Yeonjun who sat at the head of the table, his posture as regal as ever, but his eyes sharp and words calculating. He couldn’t help but notice how Yeonjun commanded the room, even in silence.

The council members spoke with reverence, Beomgyu noticed how they carefully measured their words in his presence, the intonation in their voices, the way the nobles ran the country was an interesting thing to observe.

At one moment, the alpha glanced up, his gaze flicking to Beomgyu, and for a moment, the two of them locked eyes. There was something there— something deeper than the indifference he usually saw in the prince’s eyes. Before Beomgyu could make sense of it, the moment was gone. Yeonjun returned to his meeting, paying full attention to the other lords around him.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of voices and formalities. Beomgyu remained by the door, his thoughts swirled as the hours passed, and by the time the meeting ended, he could feel the weight of his own bitterness pressing down on him.

Yeonjun rose from the table, giving the council one last nod of dismissal, “Beomgyu, come here.”

His voice was low, unassuming, but it struck Beomgyu like a command. He stepped forward, his heart pounding in his chest. The prince stood by the table, flipping through the documents in his hands, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Did you understand the meeting?” Yeonjun asked suddenly, his voice steady but carrying a hint of something, perhaps curiosity.

The omega blinked, thrown off guard. He had never been asked about his thoughts, never been given any kind of invitation to participate in the prince’s affairs.

“I—I did,” he replied, unsure of where this conversation was going, “The council is concerned about the upcoming harvest, the distribution of supplies…” He trailed off, unsure if his input mattered at all.

Yeonjun looked at him, his eyes piercing, studying him with a level of intensity Beomgyu hadn’t expected.

“Good,” he said, “You’re paying attention, I like that. I’ve mentioned before why servants are important to me, and I want to make sure you understand the weight of these decisions.”

Beomgyu’s heart skipped a beat at the unexpected sincerity in Yeonjun’s words. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. The walls he had built around his emotions suddenly felt thin and fragile.

“You’re dismissed,” Yeonjun sighed, before standing up with his own documents, and Beomgyu couldn’t help but take a step back as the alpha now stood unbearably close,

“Oh, but don’t forget tomorrow I’m hosting the outing for the ministers of the west and I’d like you to help with the culinary preparations instead.”

Beomgyu couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, “Culinary preparations? I won’t be by your side as usual?”

The prince shook his head, “No, unfortunately, I must mingle with the ministers more. But Lady Jangmi told me you have a friend in the kitchen so I trust you’ll be comfortable there, and then you’ll just serve drinks and whatnot at the actual gathering.”

Nakyoung? He thought, heart racing a bit at the thought of seeing someone he trusted. But somehow the thought of being…away from the prince was a bit odd, and he spoke before he could think,

“Will I…at least see you sometime before the gathering begins?”

Beogyu noticed how Yeonjun stilled, the weight of his words settling into the space between them. His gaze, once focused on the papers in front of him, lifted, locking onto Beomgyu with an intensity that made his heart thrum louder. The question seemed innocent enough yet the subtle tremor in Beomgyu’s voice didn’t go unnoticed.

“I—" Yeonjun began, his tone faltering for just a second. The usual cold, commanding presence in his voice wavered by something softer, “You’ll see me when it begins, of course. The gathering will be... hectic, and I may not have much time to spare, but you’ll know where to find me.”

The casualness of his response didn’t quite match the emotion lingering in the room. He’d never been one to seek out Yeonjun’s company, especially after their difficult history yet here he was, feeling a strange reluctance to leave. It was as if the idea of being away from the prince left a sense of something unfinished.

And it began to shake him at his core, his heart racing at the thought of it.

He bowed, nodding, “I’ll take my leave then.”

And before anyone could say anything, he rushed out ignoring the odd feeling unfurling in his chest.  Beomgyu knew that he truly understood nothing of this new life he was living. And, what’s worse is that he is afraid to understand it.

He isn’t sure he ever will.

The next morning, instead of making his usual walk to the chambers of the prince, he instead made his way towards the kitchen.

Beomgyu stepped inside, the scent of freshly baked bread and simmering stews filled the air, and for a moment, it was as if nothing had changed. This was a place he knew well, a place where he could find stability and routine, something that felt real and within his control.

His eyes quickly scanned the room, searching for Nakyoung. When he spotted her, her back turned as she carefully chopped vegetables, he couldn’t suppress the small, relieved smile that tugged at his lips. The sight of her was grounding. 

“Nakyoung,” Beomgyu called softly, making his way toward her.

She turned with a grin, her eyes lighting up when she saw him, “Beomgyu! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

He nodded, suddenly feeling the weight of the change in his life, “Yes, it has. I—" He hesitated, unsure of how to explain it. “I’m helping with the preparations for the outing today.”

The alpha arched an eyebrow, clearly surprised, “You? The prince... asked you?”

Beomgyu’s lips twitched slightly, but he couldn’t hide the edge of uncertainty in his voice, “It’s not exactly what I’ve been doing recently, but it’s what I’m being tasked with.”

Her smile softened as she set the knife down and stepped closer to him,  “Well, you’ve always been good with food, but it must feel strange to be away from him for a while, huh?”

The question hit harder than Beomgyu expected. His stomach churned, and his mind immediately flashed to the image of Yeonjun’s intense gaze from the night before, the unease from their exchange resurfaced, and he found himself at a loss for words.

He cleared his throat, forcing a nonchalant tone, “It’s just a few hours. I’ll be back before I know it.”

But even as the words left his mouth, he felt a strange, hollow sensation in the pit of his stomach.

Nakyoung, sensing his discomfort, studied him for a moment before offering a gentle smile, “I’m sure the prince has his reasons for giving you this task. You’ve always had a place here, even before all of this.”

Beomgyu met her eyes, feeling the weight of her words sink into him,

“I know, I know. But honestly…” he murmured, though the feeling of being untethered remained, “Honestly I just... I don’t know what’s happening anymore.”

Before Nakyoung could respond, a voice shattered through the air, “You, omega .”

Beomgyu froze. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as the familiar, harsh voice of a beta, a fellow servant, Daeyang, sliced through the air. He turned slowly, his stomach lurching at the sight of the man standing in the doorway.

Daeyang stood there, his expression twisted in disdain as he surveyed the scene with eyes that saw only his own narrow worldview.

“You’re to help with the preparations, not gossip around,” His words dripped with condescension, a sneer playing on his lips.

Beomgyu's pulse quickened, his stomach tightening into a knot. Daeyang always gave him a hard time, never missing a chance to remind him of his status, a cruel reminder of the way people like him were viewed in the eyes of those who believed in such oppressive ideals.

“I—I’m helping,” Beomgyu stammered, his voice wavering under the weight of his scorn. He glanced at Nakyoung for some kind of reassurance, but she remained silent, knowing that this was something Beomgyu had to face alone,

“Nakyoung’s been helping me get settled with the tasks.”

Daeyang scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. His gaze flicked between Beomgyu and Nakyoung, and then his eyes settled on Beomgyu, lingering longer than necessary. 

“Y’know, I never understood why they even allow omegas like you in my kitchen,” he spat, his tone thick with derision, “You’d be better off serving the ministers as your body dictates, wouldn’t you?”

The words hit Beomgyu like a slap, the sharpness of Daeyang's judgment cutting deep. His face flushed with anger, a mixture of humiliation and resentment building inside him. He had never been able to shake the way people like Daeyang looked at him—like he was nothing more than a body to be used, a tool for the whims of others.

It was a feeling that made him want to scream, but he swallowed it down.

“I’m fully aware of my responsibilities,” Beomgyu replied, his voice sharp and filled with defiance, though it quivered slightly as he said it. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, and he hated the way his voice faltered in front of the man.

He continued, “I’m here to work, just like anyone else.”

“You think you’re the same as everyone else?” he sneered, taking a step closer as though he were inspecting Beomgyu’s very being,

“You’re nothing but a bastard omega. No matter how you dress it up, that’s your place. And don’t think for a second that the prince will save you from your true nature.”

The brown haired male’s fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tight with anger. Every word Daeyang spoke only reinforced the sense of powerlessness that gnawed at him. But deep down, he knew that it wasn’t just his cruelty that stung—it was the fact that some part of him still feared those words were true. 

“I’ve been doing this long enough to know my place,” Beomgyu replied, “I’m not going to let you belittle me just because you think you’re better.”

“Better?” Daeyang mocked, “I’m not the one playing pretend. You’re not even fit to stand in the same room as me, let alone work in my kitchen. And yet, here you are, acting like you belong. Pathetic.”

Beomgyu’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he could feel the suffocating heat of humiliation rise within him, but he refused to let it consume him. He wasn’t going to back down—not now, not when he could feel the sting of the male’s words like an open wound. He would not let the man see him flinch.

“I’m not your servant,” Beomgyu said, his voice a bit more steady now, though his heart raced in his chest, “I’m here because the crown prince asked for my help. And I’ll do what’s needed without you judging me.”

Daeyang’s eyes narrowed “The crown prince?” he repeated, “You think he actually cares for you? You’re nothing but a tool, Beomgyu, and the sooner you accept that, the easier your life will be.”

The words hit hard, but the omega refused to let them break him. The thought of Yeonjun, of the strange pull he still felt toward him flickered in his mind. Although the prince was cold, serious, distant and uncaring, he knew Yeonjun wasn’t like Daeyang, even if the prince’s actions sometimes made him doubt that.

“Don’t speak of the crown prince like that,” Beomgyu growled, his voice filled with quiet fury, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Daeyang’s laugh was harsh, “I know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re too blinded by his attention to see it, but trust me, you’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

For a brief moment, the air between them stood still. Beomgyu’s chest heaved with the weight of his frustration. He was tired of people, of other servants like Daeyang trying to dictate his worth, tired of being underestimated and belittled. But more than that, he was tired of doubting himself.

With a final, defiant look at Daeyang, Beomgyu turned his back on him, walking toward the counter. He could feel the beta’s eyes boring into him but he refused to acknowledge the man any longer.

“I’ll get to work,” he said coolly, the words slipping out as if they had no weight at all, even though his heart pounded in his chest. 

Nakyoung then spoke up, “Don’t you have two kids you need to be working for, Daeyang?” She narrowed her eyes at the way the beta immediately gulped at being called out, “At least Beomgyu does his own work.” She tsked.

Daeyang grumbled, muttering about how they were bitching about and left them alone.

Nakyoung placed a hand on his shoulder, “Don’t let him get to you, he’s nothing but a fellow servant.” she said quietly, “I’m glad you stood up for yourself though.”

“I’m glad I did too.” Beomgyu spoke with a soft smile, ignoring the way his anxiety began to spike.

Then Nakyoung added on, her voice a little softer but filled with strength, “Just remember, you’re not alone in this. You’ve got me and you’ve got your place here.” 

Her words were more than just an offer of solidarity—they were a reminder that despite everything, Beomgyu had some semblance of belonging.

For a moment, he allowed himself to breathe deeply, to let the tension in his shoulders soften. The weight of the world hadn’t been lifted, but Nakyoung’s words were like a small spark of warmth, something steady to hold on to. He nodded and gave her a grateful smile in return.

“Thank you, Nakyoung,” he whispered, his voice vulnerable, something he rarely allowed to show, “I think I need that reminder more than I realized.”

As Beomgyu then continued to work, his hands moving on autopilot, his mind kept drifting back to the harsh words Daeyang had thrown at him earlier. The beta’s sneering tone, the way he’d suggested that the prince wouldn’t care about him, that he was just a tool to be used for whatever the crown required—those words lingered like a bitter taste in the back of his throat.

He tried to shake them off, but the more he focused on his tasks, the more they gnawed at him. Daemin’s words echoed in his mind, "You think he actually cares for you? You’re nothing but a tool, Beomgyu"

At first, Beomgyu had dismissed them, chalking them up to the beta’s typical cruelty.

But as the hours passed, the thought crept back into his mind, and the doubt it stirred in him began to take root. Did the prince care? Did Yeonjun really see him as anything more than just someone to do his bidding?

He shook his head vigorously, willing the thoughts away. He couldn’t afford to entertain such doubts. Although he did many things for the prince and the alpha still acted so distant for him, a small, strong part of him believed that in some way, Yeonjun must care for him.

No, he told himself. Yeonjun had protected him before. Yeonjun had sent his cousins away for him. Yeonjun had even praised him, something no one else ever bothered to do.

Yet something deep inside him—a small, uncomfortable voice—whispered that perhaps Daeyang wasn’t entirely wrong. As much as he wanted to push the thought away, it lingered like a shadow, stretching deeper into his mind the longer he tried to ignore it.

Beomgyu clenched his jaw, fingers tightening on the dish he was preparing, but no matter how hard he tried to focus on the task at hand, the question burned in his chest. Did Yeonjun care? 

He exhaled sharply, trying to steady his breath. Stop thinking like this, he scolded himself. It’s just paranoia. Nothing more. But deep down, that voice whispered again, quieter now but still persistent. What if it’s true?

And it hurt to think about that possibility. More than he would ever want to admit, it hurt.

———

The gathering was alive with the rhythmic clinking of glasses, the soft hum of polite conversations, and the occasional bursts of laughter from the nobles in their jewel-encrusted attire. The scent of rich food, delicate wines, and the faint undertones of perfumes lingered in the air, but it all felt like an echo against the stone walls of Beomgyu's mind.

He moved carefully through the crowd, his dark attire blending with the shadows of the room, his movements deliberate as if he was invisible.

Honestly, he hated gatherings and events like this. He never found them enjoyable and being by Yeonjun’s side meant he had to attend almost all of them. This one was much smaller than usual but filled with powerful ministers from the west, lords who own land and have influence. It was a networking event in all honesty.

He hated going to them too because the nobles always treated him horribly, worse so than all the servants or regular people. And he could do nothing about their treatment but take it. Usually he is by Yeonjun’s side so the treatment is often hidden out of sight, but this gathering he isn’t.

Beomgyu couldn’t quite shake the feeling that tonight, something was different.

He spotted Yeonjun almost immediately, and felt his heart churn when he saw Yeonjun standing among the high-ranking lords, regal in his bearing, making something inside him stir—something unsettling, something deep in his chest that he couldn’t name.

His fingers twitched slightly as he moved between the nobles, carrying out the tasks expected of him: serving drinks, arranging dishes, keeping his head low and out of sight. His eyes drifted back to Yeonjun, the prince caught his gaze.

The brief moment when Yeonjun’s eyes locked onto him felt electric. It was fleeting, but in that brief second, Beomgyu couldn’t help but feel that there was a connection, an unspoken understanding.

But when the prince immediately turned his attention back to the lords around him, Beomgyu was left standing in the crowd, his pulse racing and his thoughts in turmoil. Was it really a connection? Or had he just imagined it?

His breath hitched as he tried to distract himself, moving quickly to another corner of the room where the food was being served, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched, of being too aware of every gesture, every whisper in the air.

The nobles around him were a blur of color and sound, but everything felt sharp and heightened—every glance, every murmur, every movement. The weight of the prince’s presence felt suffocating and Beomgyu realized that it wasn’t just the pressure of his role as a servant that made him feel so small tonight.

It was the cruel distance that had grown between them over time, the cold barrier that Yeonjun had placed between them. And it was hollowing, more than he was willing to admit.

Then, the incident happened—like a slap to the face, an interruption to the delicate silence of his thoughts.

"Your Highness keeps such interesting company these days, didn’t know he was so…fond of omegas."

The words paraded to his ears and Beomgyu froze. His hand, which had been poised to pass a wine glass to a guest, trembled at the cruel words that pierced the air. He slowly turned to see Lord Jaeyun standing before him, surrounded by a group of similarly well-dressed men.

The sneer on Jaeyun’s face was a perfect mirror of the disdain that so many of the nobles seemed to have for him. His heart began to thud painfully in his chest as the alpha stepped closer, his voice rising, deliberately loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.

Jaeyun continued, his voice laced with disdain, “Do you enjoy the royal attention, little servant? Or are you just here to be paraded around for amusement and pleasure?”

The words made Beomgyu’s stomach churn with disgust. He tried to swallow the rising frustration, but it was impossible. His hands clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms, the bitterness of humiliation swirling in his chest. The alpha smelt of burning pine and coal, a harsh smell that only further appalled him.

“I’m here to serve out my futied,” he said, forcing the words out, though they felt like shards in his throat.  His voice was controlled, but even he could hear the quiver in his tone.

Jaeyun laughed, and the sound was as sharp as glass breaking. “Serve? Oh, I’m sure you serve him well. After all, it’s not like anyone else would have any use for you.” 

He leaned in, eyes glinting with malice as he then grabbed out to caress his cheek,

“Just a pretty face, aren’t you? A soft little thing for His Highness to toy with. But what happens when you’re no longer needed? What then? Will you just fade away, like all the others?”

Every word cut deep, the sting of it burning in his chest. Like all the others?

Beomgyu felt the world around him blur, his pulse quickening, his breath catching in his throat. He knew the prince never had any omega personal servants, but Beomgyu knew the prince didn’t stray away from other sorts of relationships with omegas and he knew that how others perceived him as.

The words then felt like a weight pressing him into the floor, reminding him of his place in this world.

And the worst part was that Jaeyun’s words weren’t completely unfounded. Most omegas the prince came in contact with were then left without any ties to him afterwards, but Beomgyu knew that wasn’t his case. He was a personal servant, nothing more.

The alpha’s voice pierced through his thoughts like a blade, “When he’s done with you, he’ll toss you aside like the rest. You’ll be forgotten. That’s what you are to him.”

The words echoed in Beomgyu’s mind, a deep, aching emptiness that expanded in his chest. He looked around, desperate for a sign, for something to hold onto. But the nobles just watched, their faces twisted in both amusement and indifference, as if they were waiting for him to break. 

Beomgyu wasn’t close with Yeonjun, no, far from it. They are not friends, they are not companions, they are worlds apart and will never collide. He spends his time observing the alpha, trying to understand him from the outside, to be the servant that brings pride and no issues. It is a cold environment, almost unviable for life. But there is some hope.

A hope that allowed Beomgyu to think in a torturing way that maybe the prince saw him more than that, in fact, he knew the prince defined him more than just a servant; he was someone who aided him in his path to becoming king, someone a part of the House of Choi, someone under his protection. Yeonjun had said so himself.

And yet, standing at the far end of the room, surrounded by his lords, Yeonjun stood just staring at the two. Once he noticed the omega caught him looking, he turned his back to Beomgyu as if he hadn’t heard a word.

And then it was as if he was an impenetrable wall, his indifference a sharp blade that cut through Beomgyu’s already fragile sense of self-worth.

Do something, Yeonjun, please, do something , Beomgyu wanted to scream. It’s almost stupid how often he finds himself wanting the prince’s protectjon, to demand the prince come to his defense as he’s done many times before.

But the words stuck in his throat, unable to form. Instead, he just stood there trembling with humiliation and confusion.

“Oh? Your beloved crown prince is not coming to your rescue now?” Jaeyun pressed, stepping closer, his smirk widening with each passing second, “What a shame, isn’t it. Hopefully he won’t send me away!”

The words, the mockery, the laughter—it all became too much. Beomgyu’s chest tightened with the weight of it all. This was his life. And the small hope he had began to kindle out, disappearing with every passing second.

Was everything that Yeonjun said a lie? No matter how much he wished otherwise, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that there was something more, he couldn’t escape it. He was small, insignificant, and powerless.

The pain of the realization washed over him and in that moment, he felt something inside him break. The image of the prince now became something he couldn’t fathom, a sense of betrayal overcoming him. 

Liar.

His eyes flickered to Yeonjun one last time, but the prince was still absorbed in his conversation, his face cold and unreadable, a stark contrast to the vulnerability Beomgyu felt within himself.

You’re a liar.

Without a word, Beomgyu turned on his heel and fled. He could feel the eyes of the room on him, but he didn’t care. He ignored the shouts for him to come back, the further attempts to humiliate him.

The weight of their gazes pushed down on him, but it was nothing compared to the weight of his own heart breaking, to the realization that everything he had allowed himself to believe was a lie.

He ran through the hall, his steps pounding against the floor, his chest heaving as he tried to escape the suffocating atmosphere. The cool night air hit him like a shock to the system, but it did nothing to calm the storm raging within him.

Daeyang was right. 

He scoffed as the warm tears began to fill his waterline. Yeonjun didn’t care. He never did. 

He’s a liar.

The thought was a knife in his chest and he staggered forward, desperate for release from the suffocating loneliness that threatened to consume him. The courtyard loomed ahead, empty and silent, but it offered no solace, no comfort.

Beomgyu sank to his knees, his hands trembling as they gripped the grass beneath him. His breath came in ragged gasps, tears he had held back for so long finally falling, mixing with the bitter taste of disappointment.

———

The night settled heavily over the palace, the only sound the faint rustle of the wind against the stone walls.

Beomgyu stood outside the prince’s chambers, his heart beating in his chest like a drum, louder with every passing second. His thoughts were a maelstrom. He had spent the last several hours pushing everything down, trying to bury the sting of humiliation he had suffered earlier.

But the scene in the gathering hall had festered in his mind, replaying over and over. The way the noble had humiliated him in front of everyone, and the prince, standing there, doing nothing to stop it. It cut deeper than anything Beomgyu had expected.

He came here in hopes that Yeonjun, maybe—just maybe—the prince could offer him a shred of understanding. But now, all that seemed like an illusion.

Beomgyu stood frozen before he finally mustered the courage to knock.

"Enter," Yeonjun’s voice came, smooth and calm, almost as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

Beomgyu pushed the door open, stepping into the dimly lit room. The air was thick with the scent of burning incense, mingling with the faint scent of polished wood. The crackling fire in the hearth was the only sound there.

The alpha stood by the window, his broad back to Beomgyu, his posture so controlled, so poised. The moonlight outlined his figure, he looked like someone who had everything under control, like someone who had nothing left to fear.

Beomgyu swallowed hard, he stepped forward, his voice tight but resolute, “I need to speak to you, Your Majesty.”

Yeonjun turned slowly, his expression unreadable. His eyes skimmed over Beomgyu with the same detachment as always.

“What is it, Beomgyu?” His voice was measured, but something about it cut deeper than he realized.

Beomgyu’s pulse quickened but it wasn’t fear that made his heart race—it was the anger, the frustration that had been building up all evening. He had always been good at holding back, but tonight was an exception.

His emotions were a storm and he couldn’t stop it from spilling over.

“Why…why did you do nothing?” Beomgyu’s words were low but they cut through the thick air between them, “You stood there, watching, as Lord Jaeyun humiliated me in front of everyone and you didn’t even move. You didn’t say a word.”

Yeonjun’s gaze narrowed, his expression hardening. He took a step toward Beomgyu, towering over the omega. 

“What would you have me do?” he asked, a bit unbelieving, “I’m not here to coddle you, Beomgyu. I’m not here to protect you from every little comment that offends your sensibilities. I have my responsibilities, and you have yours. You forget yourself.”

A wave of frustration washed over Beomgyu and before he could stop it, a low, guttural growl escaped his throat, “You’re unbelievable, how can you stand there and say that when you’ve aided me before?”

He continued, “I knew you said things would change between us but now…now you talk to me, treat me like I’m just some…object.”

Yeonjun’s jaw tightened at the sound, his eyes flashing with something dangerous. He took another step toward Beomgyu, his cinnamon scent pressing down on him, a reminder of the power he held.

"You’re speaking out of turn, do you forget who I am?"he warned, his voice low and almost threatening, “Watch your tongue.”

But Beomgyu wasn’t going to back down. Not anymore. Even if it meant risking it all, he was tired of it all.

“No,” he shot back, his voice shaking with emotion but there was fire in it now, “You forget your own words, Your Majesty. You forget that I am not just a servant, that I am also hu—”

"That you are also what?" Yeonjun pressed, his voice deceptively calm, but the challenge in his tone was unmistakable, "Speak, Beomgyu. Don’t stop now."

Beomgyu’s face darted to the floor, his hands curling into tight fists at his sides. The words felt like daggers, each one sharper than the last, and every time he thought he might say something meaningful, the weight of the prince’s expectations crushed it down.

He didn’t trust himself anymore. He knew that if he went any further, it would be impossible to come back. The scars on his back began to ache, his breath came out in ragged bursts as he fought to maintain control.

But the weight of everything that had been building up over the past weeks, the months, the years, felt too heavy to carry any longer.

“Of course,” Yeonjun scoffed after a beat of silence, his voice dripping with derision, “You continue to be cowardly, haven’t I told you honesty is my best policy? You act as if you have plenty to say until it actually matters. ”

Something in Beomgyu snapped. The words came out before he could stop them, like a flood breaking through a dam, everything he had held back rushing out in a torrent of anger and hurt.

The omega’s scent of bursting orange and weeping honey seethed all throughout his chambers, mixing into that of a muted cinnamon and cedarwood.  

“You don’t know the first thing about me,” he spat, his head snapping up to meet the prince’s gaze, eyes blazing with fury, “You never have. You think you know everything—about me and about my life, but you don’t.”

His words were raw, jagged, and they spilled from him like poison, each one a bitter truth he had kept buried for too long. He noticed how the alpha stumbled a bit at his scent that now flurried throughout the room as Beomgyu became more angered.

“Do you know what it feels like to have nothing? To have no one?” He spoke quietly, as if saying the words pained him.

“I thought maybe… maybe you’d protect me like you said you would. But there I was, in that crowd, and you watched them humiliate me.”

Beomgyu's voice wavered, “All you did was ignore as they insulted me like I was your toy. And unlike the times before, you— you did nothing.”

For a moment, the room fell silent, save for the sounds of cicadas and the crackling fire. Beomgyu’s hands shook as he tried to control the torrent of emotions threatening to overflow.

He looked at Yeonjun, refusing to look away, but the prince’s face remained hardened, he could not read it, the usual coldness and distance between them now amplified.

“Maybe I am an idiot,” Beomgyu continued, his voice quieter now, but still tinged with pain, “Maybe I was stupid to think that you, of all people, weren’t lying to me, that you meant—”

He stopped himself, his breath coming in gasps, his vision blurry from the tears he hadn’t even realized were falling.

Yeonjun didn’t move. His face remained unreadable, but there was something in his eyes now, something like confusion, like he was trying to understand something he couldn’t quite grasp. And the sight of it made Beomgyu even more pained, knowing that he was now stuck in a life he could not escape, chained with someone who doesn’t care for him, and he knows nothing. He knows nothing of the life he now lives.

So, he wiped his tears, retracted his scent that floated around like a fog, and regained his composure.

“You’ve no idea of the life I have lived. And the loneliness I feel. You’ll never care to understand that though, will you?” Beomgyu spoke with finality, the weight of his heartache lifting as he finally said the words he’d kept buried for so long.

“Is that how you really feel?” Yeonjun asked, his voice low and dangerous as if he was trying to contain a storm inside himself, “That you don’t…matter to me?”

Beomgyu didn’t know how to answer. He wanted to scream at him, to tear him apart for all the ways Yeonjun had let him down, for all the ways he’d been left standing in the shadows. But there is also the predicament of this: he is but a servant, and Yeonjun a prince. There are boundaries already set in stone, and he has already crossed many of them.

“Of course, that’s what I think. Why wouldn’t I think that?” He muttered.

Yeonjun took a step forward, the tension between them palpable, thickening the air around them. Beomgyu didn’t move, didn’t back away. His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms. He could feel the heat of the alpha’s eyes, sharp and intense like it was cutting through him but he refused to flinch.

Yeonjun’s eyes widened, and he took another step forward, closer than before, but Beomgyu didn’t move. He couldn’t. The emotional exhaustion was too much. In his face, he could see something that the prince was battling against, as if there was much he wanted to say.

His primal instincts could sense the alpha was highly disturbed by an omega in distress, he could see it in his face that the prince was stuck and unsure on what to so, that he was grappling with something he could not control. He could sense that there was so much restraint flowing through his body, words on the tip of his tongue that he can only hold back.

“I’m not— you also know nothing about me either,” Yeonjun said quietly but the anger and frustration in his voice apparent, “But know that I never meant to hurt you.”

Beomgyu shook his head, his heart aching with a pain he didn’t know how to express, “And yet you somehow always do.”

Yeonjun didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing against Beomgyu’s arm as if his primal instincts took over, wanting nothing more but to soothe the omega. But Beomgyu flinched at the touch and took steps back, taking in the way the alpha’s face twisted at this, as if he couldn’t understand himself.

“I'm your prince, you must know every damn day of my life has been a battle just like yours. Yet you—” Yeonjun’s breath hitched, his frustration evident, “You act like you’re the only one carrying the weight of the world, like I’m the one who’s failed you. And I can’t understand what the hell it is you want from me.”

Beomgyu didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t know if he wanted anything from Yeonjun anymore. The pain was too much, 

“I don’t know either, I don’t even know why I’m saying these words to you.” The omega admitted, unsure of what all of this is for.

But there was this overwhelming desire to just let go. To say what he’s been wanting to say, the things weighing heavy on his soul, even if it meant losing everything he has left. So letting go of the last of his restraint, he spoke.

“But I just…” Beomgyu’s heart raced as his chest constricted, the walls he’d so carefully built falling down, 

“I want someone to care.”

He said it so softly, the words slipping from his mouth like a quiet confession.

As soon as they left him, Beomgyu watched the way they rippled through Yeonjun’s face. The alpha’s usually composed expression faltered, his eyes darkening with something unfamiliar and his breath caught, as though the weight of the omega’s vulnerability struck him harder than any blow.

Yeonjun stepped forward, slowly, cautiously, as though afraid any sudden move might shatter the fragile moment between them. His voice, when he finally spoke, was lower than before, edged with something Beomgyu hadn’t heard from him yet—desperation.

“As your prince, I have no excuse.” His voice hardened, the usually confident alpha now carrying a trace of restraint, “But personally there’s much I want to say, but I—.. I can’t..”

The omega’s heart twisted in his chest, helplessness washing over him, “Then say it.” The desparation in his voice mixed with that of the fury of his heart seemed to reverberate throughout the room.

He reached forward, grabbing Yeonjun’s hand, ignoring the way the touch burned through his skin and the scent of cinnamon and cedarwood seeped into his heart.

Yeonjun released his hand and shook his head, and the sight of it only angered the omega.

He exhaled deeply, clenching his jaw, “You—fine, continue to be like that, Your Majesty. But know this, I have…endured much in my life. And I’m uncertain of how much longer I can continue to endure if.” 

The admission only brought tears to his eyes once again, that empty void within tempting him more so than ever. And he watched at how his words only made Yeonjun’s expression freeze.

“So do as you will, punish me if you’d like, do with me as you desire.” Beomgyu gritted out, taking steps back towards the door, “And know that I will take any consequence, any punishment, anything over continuing serving you.”

His chest heaved as he spoke, and when he finished, he waited for the prince to say anything, do anything, but instead, he just stood there with a myriad of emotions painted on his face and a scent filled with resignation. Hope is now something he knows he shouldn’t associate with the alpha but he wished for him to say at least something or to even nod his head.

But Yeonjun just stared, and stared, and stared.

Beomgyu couldn’t help but scoff and shake his head, not saying a word either as he made his way out the door and walk towards his quarters. And, for the first time in his life, he felt as if he did something right. Something that he wouldn’t come to regret or worry about, and he didn’t feel as if he cared enough to do so.

All he wished for at the moment was to go far, far away from Yeonjun and he only hoped the prince understood at least that.