memoir of a nuisance

November rolled in with a kindness like no other and, for the first time in Beomgyu’s life, things felt somewhat steady.

It was not a feeling he was used to, or rather, a feeling he hadn’t felt in months. Ever since that fateful night in August, his life had been a whirlwind of uncertainties and unease. Nights were restless and there was an overwhelming feeling of sheer uncomfort, to the point where he began to embrace the thought of his own death.

But now there was a solid rhythm to his days. A routine that, while unfamiliar at first, had started to feel more grounding than ever.

And it was all due to Yeonjun.

Every morning, Beomgyu would tread the familiar route through the palace: memorizing the creak of wooden floorboards beneath his steps, noticing how the hum of the courtyard gardens would fade out as he reached the quarters of the alpha prince, and how the faint scent of cedarwood & cinnamon would flutter against his nose with the closer he got.

And there, Yeonjun would always be waiting.

Sometimes sitting at his desk, already immersed in matters of the court; other times, still half-drowsy in his silk morning robes askew as if he had only just risen.

And their days unfolded with a new sort of ease. Beomgyu still served above what was expected of him, but just as Yeonjun had promised, there was now a gentle understanding that softened the rigid lines of their roles.

The prince, the one he had resented so fiercely for so long, wasn’t as cruel or indifferent as he used to be.

And this observation lingered in the quiet moments: the subtle nods of acknowledgment, the rare curve of his lips that seemed almost like a smile, the absence of scorn in his tone when he spoke.

Getting used to this new dynamic was difficult. Naturally, Beomgyu always braced himself for the prince’s temper or his cold indifference but the prince stayed true to his words, and it left him off-balance.

This development between them wasn’t obvious. No, they still held their distance; there were lines that could not be crossed, boundaries marked by rank and a shared history. Yet this bond although small, tentative, wasn’t sudden or dramatic. It simply grew in increments like the way sunlight creeps over the horizon.

At first, Beomgyu found himself questioning it. Was this a facade of some sort? A temporary reprieve before the prince’s true nature reasserted itself? But as the days turned into weeks, the consistency of his demeanor began to erode his doubts.

And yet acceptance came neither quickly nor easily. For so long, Beomgyu had defined himself by his resentment toward Yeonjun and stripping that away, even partially, felt like exposing.

And so much more, he was left with an undeniable amount of plain confusion. In those twelve days they spent apart, what exactly was going through the Jewel of Joseon’s head that made him change his behavior so drastically?

He knows Yeonjun said it himself, that he wanted to be better. But why?

Beomgyu could not grapple with it.

The alpha was the future heir of one of the most powerful kingdoms to exist, he did not owe someone like Beomgyu anything. Hell, if he wanted to, he could have replaced Beomgyu with someone more useful. But, no, the prince vowed his freedom instead, all in exchange for simply serving him. None of it made sense. And even more, he could not ask for an explanation about any of it, about his past behavior or his current one.

He could only wait for an explanation as the had prince promised.

There were moments too when he still clung to the past, to the anger that had fueled him through so much. Sometimes his mind wandered back to those early days when Yeonjun’s mere presence felt suffocating, the sting of his words, and the familiar burn of indignation.

But then the memories of recent days would creep in, moments where Yeonjun’s actions contradict everything Beomgyu had believed about him. The calm in his voice when he spoke of trivial things, things that had no weight or consequence, the way he looked at Beomgyu now—not as a servant, not as an obligation, but as a person.

It was disarming.

Beomgyu found himself unsettled by the quiet kindness that had begun to weave itself into their interactions. Not because it was unwelcome but because it was overwhelmingly unfamiliar. He had spent so long preparing himself for hostility that he didn’t know what to do with gentleness.

But more than that he didn’t know what to do with the way it made him feel.

There was this ugly, almost disturbing warmth that crept into his chest when Yeonjun said his name. And a strange lightness that appeared when he was around the alpha, when he could sense his scent of cinnamon & cedarwood.

In the very late nights when it is his time to bathe himself, sometimes he could sense the pheromones of the alpha on his clothes and, even worse, on his very skin, imbuing itself with his own scent.

Unconsciously, he began to like it, to enjoy the scent and how it clung to his bare body. And when he realized this, he began to scrub his skin hard to the point where it was red and tender and washed his clothes twice as often.

Because with that fondness came vulnerability and Beomgyu wasn’t sure he was ready for that. He wasn’t sure he could allow himself to believe in something that could so easily be taken away.

And so he treaded carefully, his steps measured and his walls still standing, albeit lower than before. The bond between them might have been growing but Beomgyu wasn’t ready to trust it completely.

For now, it was enough to acknowledge the change. To see it for what it was: a small, quiet promise that things could be better.

———

The November air had a chill that bit at the skin but didn’t yet demand the heavy weight of winter cloaks.

Beomgyu stood just at the boundary of the training field, his arms folded tightly across his chest to ward off the cold as he watched the prince spar. The field was alive with the sound of clashing blades and the sharp bark of commands but Beomgyu’s focus was solely on the prince.

Yeonjun moved like the embodiment of grace and power, his sword slicing through the air with precision. His form was taut and commanding, the build of an alpha evident in the broad expanse of his shoulders and the strength in his strikes. His shirt would raise at times and he’d get a glimpse of the definition flexing with every move.

It was…discomforting, how attractive he looked—how his features, sharp and imperious, seemed highlighted under the light of the late autumn sun. Beomgyu’s gaze lingered longer than he intended and when he realized it, his cheeks burned red. He dropped his eyes to the ground, suddenly overly conscious of his own frame.

Omegas aren’t meant to be here, he thought, shifting uncomfortably. It wasn’t a rule explicitly stated but it was understood. The training field was a space for alphas and soldiers, for the powerful and commanding, not for someone like him. It wasn’t too long ago when the alpha had teased him for being on the same grounds too.

And yet the same alpha had made an exception, as he so often did these days.

Beomgyu swallowed hard and forced his attention back to the field, where Yeonjun was sparring with a man who could only be described as a legend.

Lord Kangmin, the lieutenant general of the kingdom’s army, was as old as the king himself and had fought by his side in countless battles. His movements, though slower with age, still carried the power of a seasoned warrior.

Yeonjun matched him blow for blow, sweat gleaming on his brow as he parried and struck with a discipline that spoke of years of training. Watching him, Beomgyu couldn’t deny the admiration that stirred within him. A part of him wondered how fun it would be to spar like that, to be skilled enough to go toe-to-toe with a warrior, to feel the own force you could accumulate with a weapon in hand.

When the session finally ended, Yeonjun stepped away from the field, his chest heaving. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, his sword glinting in the afternoon light. Beomgyu hesitated before approaching, feeling suddenly out of place among the towering alphas and soldiers.

He handed the prince a large cup of water, and used his own rag to pat down his sweaty face.

“When did you get so strong, eh you young boy?” There was a strong satoori in the way he spoke,

“You almost fight as well as the Tiger of the East,” Lord Kangmin he jeered, a roughness in his voice but still teasing.

Yeonjun lips twitching into what might have been a smile, “The Tiger of the East?” he repeated, shaking his head, “No one could be as strong as him. It would be a disservice to the name.”

Beomgyu blinked, the name was unfamiliar. The prince handed him back the cup, and then  he took a step back as Lord Kangmin approached, patting the prince on the back,

“That may be true, Yeonjun,” he laughed, “but you are a close second.”

And then Yeonjun gave a modest incline to his head. The omega stood there a bit taken aback at how casual the warrior was with the prince, even calling him by just his name. And it was clear the prince respected him enough to allow it, even bowing his head. It was obvious the two were much closer than he had thought.

“You should come to the ceremony tonight, young boy! It will be a gathering of all soldiers alike, army, navy, and some of the old lords. You know the deal!” Lord Kangmin exclaimed, now gripping the prince’s shoulder.

Yeonjun laughed, “Of course I’ll go hyung, no need to even ask.”

And his response made the old man laugh even more, “Aye, invite this one too. He’d fit right in!”

He winked and then pointed to the omega who just stood there observing the two.

The words obviously had another meaning that Beomgyu could not pick up on, but the prince did and it was obvious it did not sit well with him. He saw the way his jaw tightened ever so slightly, eyebrows furrowing for a split second, before he just let out a dry laugh and reaching over to ruffle the omega’s chestnut hair,

“No can do, he has other things to attend to.”  He replied in a light tone that also left no room for rebuttal.

The touch of the prince’s hand in his hair made Beomgyu freeze for a second, ignoring the way the warmth of his hand battled against the chill nip of his skin. Suddenly he felt too aware of everything, of the rag that held his sweat, and the cup lined with his spit.

But the sound of Lord Kangmin’s loud laugh snapped him out of it, the man patting him once on the back before bidding a quick ‘alright, see you later' and then making his way out of the training field.

On the walk back to the palace, Beomgyu, who was trailing slightly behind Yeonjun, finally spoke.

“I suppose I should gather your robes for the ceremony tonight then, Your Majesty?” he asked since these plans came out of nowhere.

Yeonjun turned, “Ceremony?” he repeated, his tone dry, “Those oldheads don’t mean a ceremony. They call it that so they can hide the fact it’s a party filled with alcohol, omegas, and naughty things alike.”

And the words made his face turn a vivid shade of red, his steps faltering as he realized exactly what Lord Kangmin meant when he had invited him over,

“Ah,” he stammered unsure how to respond, “I see.”

The alpha chuckled at the reaction, the sound low and rich, “Don’t worry, Beomgyu. I don’t involve myself in those things, and I’ll make sure you’re spared from them as well.”

Beomgyu cleared his throat, his cheeks still red as he struggled to regain his composure.

“That’s… very considerate of you, Your Majesty,” he managed and kept his tone as neutral as he could make it.

Yeonjun said nothing more, but the faint curve of his lips lingered and Beomgyu trailing behind couldn’t help but feel as though the prince’s amusement was directed entirely at him. The thought made his face burn even hotten but he said nothing, focusing instead on the path ahead and the disturbing feeling that had taken root in his chest.

When they made their way inside the prince's chambers, Beomgyu immediately began his usual task, heading toward the wardrobe to retrieve the prince’s robes for the evening.

“You don’t need to do that,” His voice stopped him in his tracks.

Beomgyu turned, ready to ask what the prince meant, but the words died in his throat. Yeonjun was already shrugging out of his shirt, revealing the toned planes of his torso.

His muscles flexed faintly with the motion, and Beomgyu startled averted his eyes quickly, his cheeks burning for the millionth time today.

“I’ll handle my own preparations tonight,” The alpha remarked, walking towards his own closet himself, “Instead, I need you to fetch something for me.”

Beomgyu still determinedly looking away, just nodded, “Of course, Your Majesty. What shall I retrieve?”

“There is a particular whiskey, one that resides near the treasury quarters in the main palace. When you get there, find Junsu. He will know what I need.”

He hesitated only for a moment before nodding again, bowing slightly, “I will see to it immediately.”

“Good.” Yeonjun said simply, already turning away as he reached for another garment.

The main palace was grand in its size and held many parts that were an enduring legacy of the royal family.

The treasury quarters were near the west wing and as Beomgyu entered the vast hallway leading to it, he was struck by the regal air of the space. Polished wooden floors, hanging lanterns, intricate carvings on the wooden beams and ceilings telling stories of past triumphs and tragedies.

For a moment, he forgot what he was supposed to be here for. He had never really come to visit this part of the main palace as there was simply no reason to.

Then he turned a corner, and was greeted by a hall filled with portraits lining the walls.

Each frame was either one of Yeonjun’s ancestors or a figure of renown, faces captured in oil and pigment. Beomgyu’s eyes drifted from one portrait to the next as the past rulers of the kingdom seemed to stare back at him. King Shinseok, Yeonjun’s grandfather, and then King Hyunseok, the current king, both of them painted exactly how they looked, dressed in their ceremonial clothing, faces serious and both of them resembled Yeonjun a bit too much for his own liking.

I wonder what Yeonjun’s would look like, he thought to himself. One day, the alpha’s own painting would hang up on this wall and he is unsure if he will be there to see it. The minute he is free, he plans to run far, far away from here. But there is a small tug within that sort of wish to see how the prince’s painting would look like too.

Shaking his head, he continued and the more he walked, the portraits shifted from royalty to military leaders, each face bearing the hardened lines of those who had seen war.

One painting in particular caught his attention—a young Commander Kang Myungsoo of the navy, the queen’s father. His uniform was adorned with medals, his expression stern. He had seen other portraits of the man, but this one definitely stood out the most.

And then further along, when leaving the portraits of those in the navy and now those in the army, a young Lieutenant Commander Paik Kangmin of the army, the same old man he had seen earlier.

It was odd seeing pictures of men he knew painted on this wall. It also seemed the portraits were hung in order of rank and the day they entered their rank.

But it was another portrait, right next to that one, that stopped Beomgyu in his tracks. The plaque beneath it read only, “HAYOON – TIGER OF THE EAST.”

Realization struck as this was the person Yeonjun and Lord Kangmin spoke of earlier.

The man in the painting was striking, his features sharp and yet attractive. Brown hair fell just to his shoulders and a single mole beneath his lip added a surprising softness to his otherwise hardened visage. His eyes seemed to hold a story all their own, fierce and watchful, as though he could see through the canvas itself.

Beomgyu felt a strange sensation stir within him as he stared. It wasn't admiration exactly nor was it disgust. It was… curiosity. He had never heard of the Tiger of the East before today but something about this figure felt oddly familiar, like an echo of something he couldn’t place.

“Interested in history, are we?”

The voice startled him and he turned quickly to find a very short, elderly man standing behind him. The man was dressed plainly, his silver hair cropped close and there was an immediate lack of scent about him, a beta.

“I—” Beomgyu cleared his throat, realizing who this man might be. He hesitated then asked, “Are you…Junsu?”

The old man’s face broke into a knowing smile., “Did the prince send you?”

Beomgyu nodded but a part of him was thrown off by the casual tone. It wasn’t often that people addressed him so directly, especially not an older man who didn’t seem to care that he was a male omega.

He stuttered, “Y-yes. His Majesty has been invited to a ceremony hosted by Lord Kangmin, and he requested a particular whiskey—”

“Follow me.” Junsu said simply, already turning on his heel.

As they walked through the treasury, the richness of the space grew even more pronounced. Priceless artifacts stood on display, jade carvings, ceremonial weapons, and silk banners from ages past. Despite all these things he could admire, Beomgyu couldn’t help but glance back at the portrait of Hayoon as they passed.

“You have an interest in the Tiger of the East?” Junsu asked, making small conversation as they walked to god knows where,

“I saw you looking at the painting longer than the others.”

Beomgyu shook his head quickly, “No, not at all. It’s just… I heard his name for the first time today.” After a pause, he added, “Who was he?”

The old man chuckled,  “Hayoon,” he began softly, “was the greatest general this kingdom has ever seen. The Tiger of the East, they called him. He was a great friend to King Hyunseok as well.”

“Friend? Did they grow up with one another or something?”

Junsu shook his head as they turned a corner,

“No, they met when Hayoon enlisted. No one knows exactly where he came from, but he swept through the ranks of the military like wildfire. His prowess and leadership on the battlefield unmatched. A true alpha, he was.”

Beomgyu listened intently, “It sounds like you knew him too.”

“Ah and I did!” He remarked, “I spent some of my time in the military, as a medic, and tended to one too many of his wounds. But being old and living here, you get to know everyone, heh.”

“And where is he now?” The omega asked, for some reason his curiosity grew with every passing word.

He wanted to know more, there was much history behind these walls that he did not know of.

“Gone,” Junsu said simply. “He passed away about two decades ago.”

Beomgyu was unsure how to respond. There was something sobering about hearing that someone so revered was no longer part of this world.

Junsu must have noticed the look on his face, for he let out another chuckle, his shoulders shaking with mirth,

“Brush up on your history, young one.” he said.

They stopped as they reached a small, nondescript room near the treasury. Entering, the room smelled stale and there was nothing but cabinets and drawers. Junsu opened a cabinet with practiced ease, pulling out a bottle of whiskey encased in ornate glass.,

“Ah, here you go,” he said as he handed it to the male, “Take this back to the prince.”

Beomgyu bowed his head slightly, grabbed the bottle, holding it tightly to his chest, “Thank you, Junsu. It was nice talking to you.”

Junsu hummed contently, walking towards the door and Beomgyu walked behind him while admiring the whiskey. It was foreign, the letters on them western and he could not decipher them, but perhaps that is why it was special and locked in the most random cabinet of all time.

Once in the hallway, he turned to leave but then Junsu’s voice stopped him, “Anytime! It was nice to see your face again as well, Beomgyu.”

The words made him freeze. His brow furrowed, “Again?” he asked, there was never a moment in his memory where he had ever met the odd, small man.

He turned quickly, but the hallway was now empty.

Beomgyu stood there for a moment, staring at the spot where Junsu had been, the bottle of whiskey heavy in his hands and his mind swirling with questions.

He then walked back to Yeonjun’s quarters with the bottle of whiskey cradled carefully in his hands, but his thoughts were far from the task. The old man’s words “Nice to see your face again, Beomgyu” looped in his mind like a riddle.

How could Junsu have known him? He was sure they had never met before.

As soon as Beomgyu set foot inside, the question tumbled from his lips, “Who was that?”

Yeonjun glanced at him, the corner of his mouth quirking up in amusement as his eyes dropped to the whiskey in Beomgyu’s hands.

He strode forward and took the bottle with a satisfied hum. He was now dressed impeccably in a rich indigo robe, and he looked every bit the royal he was, his broad shoulders and upright posture.

“Perfect,” he murmured to himself, examining the bottle, “This is exactly what I wanted. Thank you, Beomgyu.”

His mouth opened and closed, and for a moment, he felt foolish for expecting a straightforward reply.

He cleared his throat and bowed again, pressing for an answer, “Your Majesty,” he said again, “who is Junsu?”

Yeonjun shrugged setting the whiskey on the table, “Oh, Junsu is your regular old man. Close to my father and the rest of those oldheads.”

The omega nodded slowly, his mind replaying the last moment of the interaction and then added, “He was a bit…”

The prince’s lips twitched and he finished the sentence for him, “Odd?”

Beomgyu nodded hesitantly and Yeonjun laughed, “That’s Junsu for you. No one really knows who he is, he’s been around for so long. Probably older than the palace itself. but he’s a good man, even if he can be…” He gestured vaguely, searching for the word. “Strange.”

The explanation didn’t answer all of Beomgyu’s questions, but he nodded accepting it for now. His eyes flickered over the alpha and he found himself noting how well the prince had dressed himself.

They fit him perfectly, the fabric draping over his frame. His eyes lingered on the folds of the garment, the perfectly tied sash, and the fact the alpha looked good.

“You dressed yourself well, Your Majesty.” He asked before he could stop himself, the words tumbling out.

Yeonjun arched a brow, clearly entertained, “Do you think I need your help dressing every time, Beomgyu?” he teased.

The prince stepped closer, the air between them tightening as his scent seemed to fill the space. His voice lowered, “Do you think I’m so helpless?”

Beomgyu faltered as the unexpected proximity making him feel small, his mouth opened but his thoughts scrambled and all he could manage was a weak, “M-Maybe?”

The second the words left his mouth, Beomgyu regretted them. Heat rushed to his face and he felt utterly foolish.

But then the alpha burst into laughter, warm and unrestrained. He clapped the omega lightly on the shoulder, “You’re amusing, Beomgyu.”

He barely had time to register the touch before Yeonjun turned away as though nothing had happened and grabbed the whiskey while making his way to the door,

“Stay here and rest if you’d like. If I’m not back in three hours, come find me near the tavern. They always host there.” he said casually, lifting the bottle and giving it a little shake,

“Those old lords can be terribly persuasive.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” He replied, hoping the burn in his cheeks would fade away and bowing low as Yeonjun departed.

Left alone, Beomgyu could still feel the residual warmth where the alpha had stood, the undeniable pull of his presence. He couldn’t help but feel both unnerved and drawn to it, to him.

He let out a shaky breath, standing in the empty room and the faint echo of Yeonjun’s laughter still ringing in his ears.

———

The hours passed with an unsettling crawl. And now as the night continued to pass, Beomgyu found himself pacing the length of his room for the third time.

Beomgyu had moved from the space where the prince had left him, cleaning his quarters and changing into a fresh set of robes, trying to settle his mind. He had bathed, ate a light meal, and waited.

He had allowed himself to wonder if Yeonjun might have been caught up with the lords longer than expected, but the prince had been clear—three hours.

The prince’s words echoed in his mind, that he should come find him if he wasn’t back in time. Beomgyu gave one last glance at his neatly arranged quarters before he left the room and made his way through the corridors and down to the bustling streets of Hanyang.

The sounds of the village felt different as the night took hold, more lively and chaotic. The streets were alive with laughter and music, voices cutting through the cool night air and the clattering of wooden carts.

He wondered, as he walked towards the tavern, why Yeonjun hadn’t asked for a bodyguard to accompany him; it would be much more efficient than asking a mere servant to fetch him. But then again, there was no time to dwell on such thoughts. He had already come this far.

He reached inside the tavern, and immediately the heavy scent of liquor mixed with the musk of sweat, the lingering traces of both omegas and alphas, saturated the air. Beomgyu’s heart quickened, a sickly feeling of unease settling in his chest as he stepped inside.

The tavern was full—alpha soldiers lounging, laughing, drinking, some of them too drunk to be aware of the time or the propriety of their actions. Their eyes turned to Beomgyu, some of them lingering too long, too lascivious in their gazes.

A few whispered under their breath as he moved through the crowd, their eyes on his omega form though none dared approach. He is thankful at this time that the crest on his jeogori gleamed under the lights, they knew not to mess with him.

It didn’t take long for him to spot the prince. Lord Kangmin was passed out nearby, mouth open and snoring leaned against the wall, and Yeonjun sat at a low table near him in the far corner, surrounded by a group of loud, laughing men with some female omegas sitting nearby on them, but all of them sat and ogled the prince.

His face was flushed, eyes slightly glazed with drunkenness, but even in his inebriated state, there was a sharpness in his gaze, a recognition when their eyes met. The prince smiled, the edges of his lips a bit slurred but his voice rang clear.

“Beomgyu!” He called amused and slurred, “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Beomgyu was already walking towards him, a frown on his face from the sight, “Your Majesty, it’s time to return to the palace.”

Yeonjun looked at him for a moment, blinking as if he were trying to piece together reality, before standing with a stumble. He waved to the group of soldiers with a dramatic flourish, his voice loud despite his state,

“I must be off now, gentlemen!” he declared, a smirk crossing his face, though it faltered just slightly. The room erupted into mock protests, omegas whining in discontent, laughter filling the air as Yeonjun gave a lazy salute.

Before Beomgyu could reach him, one of the soldiers reached out, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him onto his lap faster than he could fight back.

“Ah, a lovely thing, this one,” he said with a crude laugh, his eyes gleaming as he reached for the servant, “Come, relax with me”

Beomgyu stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. He had expected it, men like that, lording over him, but the reality of it hit harder than he’d imagined.

His instincts flared but before he could do anything, Yeonjun grabbed him, pulled him to the side before stepping in front of him with a sudden, growling snarl that echoed across the room.

His posture was all alpha, a protective surge of authority, eyes blazing.

“Touch him again and you’ll regret it,” The prince growled, his voice was low yet the room fell quiet.

The soldier immediately pulled back, his face twisting into one of fear, “Your Majesty—”

“Watch it.” He snarled once more, eyes darkened with authority. The soldier stammered but Yeonjun turned his back, ignoring the man, focusing on Beomgyu with an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, Beomgyu, I shouldn’t have told you to come here,” The prince said, his voice slightly slurred but sincere, “Let’s get out of here.”

Beomgyu nodded, his heart still racing from the sudden confrontation. He stepped closer, instinctively putting an arm around the alpha’s shoulders to help him stand upright.

Yeonjun leaned into the touch, though there was a hint of clumsiness in his movements as he relied more heavily on the omega than he normally would.

As they moved outside and began walking, Beomgyu couldn’t help but notice the lingering scent of those lust-filled omegas on Yeonjun, a blend of alcohol, sweat, and something he couldn’t place.

It was the first time he had ever caught that scent on the prince and it felt more pronounced than the male’s regular scent. The intensity of it made Beomgyu feel something ugly unfurl in his chest, something sharp and bitter that he didn’t quite understand.

The walk back to the palace was silent for the most part, the omega assumed the prince was probably too drunk to even speak rationally. The halls were eerily quiet when Beomgyu guided Yeonjun back to his chambers.

That cool night air had done little to quell the tightness in his chest, a gnawing discomfort that had settled. The scent of those unfamiliar omegas was like an invisible weight that clung to Yeonjun and for some damned reason, Beomgyu wanted it gone.

As they entered the chambers, the prince was swaying slightly on his feet, his drunken haze still evident in his unfocused eyes. Beomgyu hesitated for a moment before speaking, his voice quiet but firm.

“I’ll run a bath for you, Your Majesty,” He declared, the turbulence in his chest taking over.

Yeonjun blinked clearly not fully comprehending the offer at first. He took a slow step towards his bed and gave a weak shake of his head,

“I’ll bathe in the morning,” he mumbled as he sat down.

But Beomgyu wasn’t having it.

There was something about the prince’s disheveled state, the smell of the tavern still thick on his skin, that made his resolve harden. His thoughts spiraled—he needed to remove the scent of the night, the lingering presence of the other omegas on Yeonjun.

He wanted it gone, wanted the prince to return to his normal state, wanted to smell that grounding scent of cedarwood & cinnamon alone.

“Your Majesty, please,” He urged again, softer this time but there was clear discomfort painted on his face.

The alpha was about to protest again, but then he seemed to finally catch the change in Beomgyu’s demeanor. His expression shifted, brow furrowing slightly as he studied the male’s face.

There was a long moment of silence, broken only by the soft rustling of the night winds outside the window, before Yeonjun seemed to sober up just enough to realize the depth of his reaction.

His eyes narrowed and a knowing expression crossed his face. He stood up, albeit unsteadily, and took a slow step toward the omega. His voice was quieter now, almost teasing, but there was a sharpness in it that cut through the haze of alcohol.

“Beomgyu,” He hummed, “you’re affected by it, aren’t you?”

The brown haired male’s breath caught in his throat. His heart quickened, his mind racing to find a way to deny it. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he processed the prince’s words.

“W-what are you talking about?” Beomgyu stammered, his cheeks flushing with an awkward warmth. He tried to mask the turmoil within him but his attempt to brush off the matter was weak, evident by his hands fidgeting at his side.

“You..you hate the scent of them, don’t you?” He never explicitly said who they were, but Beomgyu knew who he meant. Those omegas.

And the male froze, unable to deny it.

He didn’t say anything at first, his mouth dry as he struggled to find his voice. His mind raced, his emotions conflicting. Was that really what was bothering him? It wasn’t just the scent though. It was the way they had all ogled the prince like some prized possession, as if he were a thing to be owned and used. And even worse, if the prince allowed them to do anything to him. It made something inside of Beomgyu twist.

“I…” He started but he faltered. He couldn’t say it, couldn’t admit the depth of his unease,

“I don’t care for such things.” A lie, but what else could he say?

Yeonjun took another step forward, his presence towering over Beomgyu now, “But I do.”

He reached out, fingers brushing against Beomgyu’s arm. The touch was almost too light yet the intensity of it was undeniable,

“I did not do anything with them, if that’s what you think. I never do, their scents disgust me.” Yeonjun admitted.

His voice sounded deeper near him, and it was laced with a vulnerability unlike before,“I hate the scent on yours too, you know.”

Beomgyu pulse quickened as the words sank in, “You hate my scent as well?”

The prince stood so close now that the omega could feel his breath warm against his own ear, and he could feel how Yeonjun was now purposefully releasing his own scent, flooding his senses once more.

“No, never. It is that I can…” He paused, “I can smell that alpha on you,” Yeonjun continued his voice rough, almost possessive now,

“And I hate that too. I don’t want them anywhere near you.”

The words struck like a hammer to Beomgyu’s chest, leaving him breathless and limp. His mind scrambled, trying to make sense of everything. The tension, the overwhelming closeness of Yeonjun’s body, the firm grip on his arm. Was Yeonjun trying to mark him with his scent? Was this his way of... claiming him?

The realization hit Beomgyu all at once and his heart raced in his chest as he glanced up, meeting Yeonjun’s eyes,

“Is that why you defended me earlier?” His voice was barely audible.

The prince’s expression softened, his drunken haze still clouding his judgment but his sincerity clear.

He nodded slowly, “Of course, Beomgyu.” And this time he felt the alpha’s lips brushing lightly against his own ear.

Beomgyu’s breath hitched, the magnitude of the words and the feeling of his lips against his skin made his heart flutter erratically in his chest. The prince was being entirely too honest, perhaps it was the alcohol coursing through his veins.

And the omega realized he could use this to his advantage, there was something else he’s been wanting to know for a while now, he turned his head and asked the alpha,

“Then why didn't you defend me before?”

His mind flashed to that moment with Lord Jaeyun, the sting of Yeonjun’s absence was fresh in his words.

“If…if you show powerful people your weakness,” He explained, voice more measured now, “they will target it more. I won’t give them that satisfaction.”

The words setttlef between them and were absolutely thick with meaning. Weakness. Was that what Yeonjun thought of him? Was that how the prince saw him—something to be protected, but also something to be kept hidden, to be kept... away from others? For the sake of one another?

Beomgyu opened his mouth to voice the thousands of questions tumbling through his mind, but before he could form the words, Yeonjun suddenly turned away. He looked slightly sick, his movements slow and careful as he sat on the edge of the bed again, body sagging with exhaustion.

His heart clenched and without thinking, he rushed to his side. “Your Majesty, are you well?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

He immediately knelt by the bed, intending to help, to care for the prince as best as he could. He had dealt with drunken handmaidens before, so he knew how to help.

He had many questions he could ask right now, he could use his drunken honesty to get all the answers he needed. But seeing the prince stumble around, clearly affected by the alcohol, made him uneasy. The answers can wait, he thought to himself.

“I’ll get you water,” Beomgyu said quickly, standing again, his fingers trailing lightly over Yeonjun’s arm in reassurance.

But before he could leave, the prince grabbed his wrist with surprising strength.

“No, stay with me,” He whispered,  “Just... stay.”

The simple request, the unguarded plea in his tone, shocked him. The prince was now asking for something that crossed a line, a servant staying with their prince. It was something he had never imagined the prince would ever ask.

And against his better judgment, Beomgyu stayed. He didn’t leave.

Slowly, he helped Yeonjun out of his jeogori, his fingers brushing against the prince’s warm skin, breath catching at the closeness. Yeonjun leaned back against the bed, his body already sinking into the pillows. His thin undershirt clung to his body, the fabric delicate and soft, the scent of the prince now entirely his own.

Beomgyu carefully tucked him in, then stood up to grab a glass of water as the prince pulled himself to sleep, and came back to place the glass of water within easy reach.

But then the prince’s eyes fluttered open and for a moment his gaze locked with his.

“Don’t go,” He muttered again, his voice barely a whisper. Then his hand reached out and touched his face lightly, “Just stay with me tonight.”

At the touch, his chest tightening with emotions he could not name. It was tender, unbelievably tender in a way he had never been with a male. Beomgyu could only nod, the words he wanted to say caught in his throat.

“I will.”

He reassured and instinctively laid his head down on the small space between the prince and the edge of the bed. At this, Yeonjun smiled as his fingers now brushed through Beomgyu’s hair as he lay back against the pillows.

The omega felt himself freeze at the motion, the touch of his hand lacing his hair. His mind blared sirens, this was a line the two were crossing, but neither of them moved.

“You know, I cannot blame them,” The prince then murmured, his eyes closing as if to drift into sleep, “For wanting you.”

He paused for a moment and then admitted so achingly sincere, “You are... quite beautiful. But I won’t let them have you.”

Beomgyu’s breath caught in his throat again and felt his heart stutter completely, to the point where he felt like he could die if he even muttered a single word. Yeonjun then reached out once more, touching the male’s hair all the way down to how it laid on his shoulders.

“Don’t cut your hair,” He whispered, “I like it better like that.”

And with that, the prince fell into a heavy, unsteady sleep, his breathing slow and rhythmic.

Beomgyu sat like that for a long moment, his mind buzzing with static.

What the fuck just happened? That repeated in his head like a mantra, and long enough, he gathered the courage to stand up.

As he made his way back to the door he noticed Yeonjun’s jeogori that still carried the scent of the other omegas. He couldn’t stand it any longer. Without a second thought, he tossed it away, the fabric falling limply to the floor.

The ache in his chest remains  but it was no longer just a discomfort from the scent. It was something deeper—something that had taken root in his heart.

And he did not feel the need to pull it out, not after tonight.

———

The sun hadn't even risen when Beomgyu found himself lying in his bed, as his heart raced uncontrollably.

He had been unable to sleep, not fully.  Not when his mind was a whirlwind with thoughts of the previous night—the prince, the alcohol, the proximity, every single thing that came out of his mouth.

He winced as his fingers absently brushed over the small ache at his temple, a headache threatening to form. But it wasn’t the alcohol that was the problem, no.

It was the way Yeonjun’s words had hung in the air, the way his touch had lingered in on skin long after the prince had fallen asleep, the way the prince had asked him to just stay.

He rolled over onto his side, pressing his hand to his chest as if to steady his erratic heartbeat.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” He scolded himself, his stomach twisting in discomfort.

The prince’s actions,  the sheer vulnerability of it all, had made him lose composure and Beomgyu hated himself for it. Last night, a line was crossed between the two and as the sober one, he should have known better.

His mind flashed back to the way Yeonjun had so carelessly called him out, "You hate the scent of them, don’t you?” The words echoed in his head over and over until they nearly drove him mad.

"Stop it," Beomgyu groaned, pressing his palm to his forehead in exasperation. He hated that because it was true, he hated the scent of them.

His omega side which was always so sensitive was reacting far too strongly to everything that had happened.

Why did I react like that? His fingers gripped the edge of his pillow, pressing his face into its softness as if it could smother the overwhelming thoughts.

He couldn’t help but think back how the scent of those omegas unsettled him, when he closed his eyes he could hear the sound of their voices calling out for him, and the thought made something ugly bloom in his chest, his omega disgusted.

And as the realization struck him, his eyes widened in horror. Was I jealous?
 
He sat up in fear, the word repeating itself in his mind and he came to grapple with the truth of it all.

I was jealous. And the thought of it made his mind spin faster. Why would I be jealous? He threw his head into the pillow once more, burying his face deeper into it as if he could shut himself away from his own thoughts.

“I must be going insane.” A nervous, muffled laugh then escaped him.

He turned over and stared at the ceiling, but then his mind flashed back to Yeonjun’s words and the way his hand had lingered on his skin, his eyes clouded with sincerity. “I won’t let them have you.”

Belmgyu shook his head, as if he could shake off the words, the feelings, “No, no, no,” He couldn’t let his omega side run wild, not now, not after everything that happened. There were still so many questions unanswered and so many reasons why he should not trust and not feel this way towards the male.

But then his mind betrayed him again, another set of words replayed in his head: ”You are… quite beautiful”

He squeezed his eyes shut, “Nope. Not thinking about that. I’m not thinking about that.” He hit himself lightly on the side of the head. Get a grip. Get a grip, Beomgyu.

He wanted to deny everything and to lock it all away. But the thought of Yeonjun calling him beautiful, saying that he wouldn’t let others have him kept spinning in his head, over and over again.

Suddenly, he stood up and slapped his own face as though the sharp sting would bring him back to reality. He blinked rapidly, still stunned at his own reaction. He had to get a hold of himself.

“You’re fine,” he whispered, desperately trying to convince himself, “The prince was drunk. He didn’t know what he was saying.”

His thoughts flickered back to Yeonjun’s words for the millionth, You are quite beautiful. Beomgyu froze with the thought of, But what if he really meant that? His heart skipped a beat as the words tumbled over in his mind, the simple compliment ringing in his ears like a bell.

“No, no, he was drunk, he probably mistook me for another omega. It’s all nonsense!” He slapped his own cheeks lightly this time.

But the more he tried to deny it, the more his thoughts spiraled, the more his heart raced, and the more he felt his chest bloom with an ache he could not soothe.

His mind couldn’t seem to settle, thoughts tumbling over one another like water overflowing from a cup. Focus, focus, focus, he repeated, but it didn’t seem to help. His emotions felt like a tangled mess of confusion.

He suddenly found himself standing still, staring at the floor, breathing heavily as the weight of his own spiraling thoughts became too much to bear.

The prince will definitely be sleeping in, so then he grabbed his clothes, getting dressed, and decided to lock into his servant mode rather than focus on the night before.

With that he made his way to the kitchens, determined to find some red ginseng to help with Yeonjun’s hangover. The familiar sights and smells of the place offered a small comfort.

He spotted Nakyoung and felt some relief at seeing her too, they hadn’t been able to see one another in a while due to each other's busy schedule.

A small smile crossed her face as she spotted him, “Ah, you’re up early, Beomgyu. What brings you here?” she asked cheerfully, her hands working to prepare something.

"I need something for the prince," He replied with a smile,  "Red ginseng. I heard it helps with hangovers."

Nakyoung glanced at Beomgyu with knowing eyes. "I knew you’d ask for it, which is why I’m making it. It’s always the same when he goes out for those ceremonies. Those lords love to make him drink."

She shook her head sympathetically, "Poor Crown Prince, he can never resist either."

Beomgyu paused, feeling something unsettling in his chest, So it’s not just me... he thought, Everyone knows he gets drunk when he goes to those parties. Does he act that way with everyone too? He couldn't help but think about it. 

"Yes," he confirmed, "it’s for him." He glanced over at Nakyoung, "Is it…common for him to drink so much?"

She nodded somewhat sadly, "He doesn’t want to, but those old lords press him. They drink to their own glory and always insist he join them." She sighed, wiping her hands on her apron,

"I pity him sometimes. He’s not the carefree prince people think he is. Not when those people get their claws in him."

She reached over the counter and handed him the vial, and he accepted the concoction with a nod of gratitude, "Thank you, Nakyoung. I appreciate it."

"Take care of him, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it."

With a final smile, Nakyoung returned to her work, and Beomgyu, still feeling a bit out of sorts, made his way back toward the prince’s chambers.

He clutched the vial tightly in his hands, his thoughts still a jumbled mess. The last thing he needed was to continue spiraling in his own head.

Focus, Beomgyu. Focus.

His steps echoed softly in the hallway as he made his way back to the prince’s chambers, the vial of red ginseng tucked securely in his hand. He paused for a moment outside, steadying his breath, then pushed the door open.

Inside, Yeonjun was seated on the edge of his bed, his dark hair tousled, his clothes crumpled, and it seems as if he’d just woken up. The moment their eyes met, the air in the room shifted.

Neither of them moved at first and the silence stretched longer than it should,

“Good morning, Beomgyu. You’re…later than usual.” He spoke more casually than he expected, his voice rough yet gentle in the morning.

Beomgyu swallowed nervously, absolutely unsure about how this day will turn out.

He stepped forward, “I brought you some red ginseng, Your Majesty,” he said trying to keep his tone neutral,

“It should help with today. You drank a lot last night, I assume.”

Yeonjun hummed in acknowledgment, a small chuckle escaping his lips, “I always do with those men,” he said with a light, almost self-deprecating laugh.

The sound eased the tension in the room, allowing the male to breathe a little easier.

He handed Yeonjun the vial and as their fingers brushed, a jolt shot through him.

Beomgyu froze, the sensation lingered and his face flushed with sudden shyness. He quickly averted his eyes afraid of what might be written on his face, of what the prince might see in his expression.

Yeonjun drank the entire thing of red ginseng in one smooth gulp, the empty vessel making a soft sound as he set it down beside him. Without a word, he rose from the bed, his movements slow and deliberate as though the remnants of sleep were still holding him captive.

The omega spoke again, “Should I run you a bath, Your Majesty?” he asked.

Yeonjun shook his head, “No, I will ready myself today,” he hummed, “You’ve already done enough for me.”

There was an underlying warmth in the way he spoke that made Beomgyu’s chest tighten. He nodded, though, still feeling the lingering discomfort in his chest, unsure of whether they were even going to mention the night before.

“I’ll set out your robes for you then,” He said quietly, turning away before Yeonjun could say anything else.

He made his way across the room toward the cabinet where the prince’s garments were kept, but as he reached for the robes, something caught his eye.

The discarded jeogori from the night before—its scent still lingering faintly in the air. The scent of those omegas. The same scent that had made his stomach churn, that had made his chest tighten with jealousy.

Beomgyu paused as he stared at it. Why does it still smell like that? His throat tightened and he swallowed hard, his heart thudding loudly in his chest.

The prince walked over to him, “Don’t worry about that,” he kicked it over to the side, “I will do everything myself today. You’ve already done more than enough.”

Beomgyu turned, his face betraying a flash of confusion and uncertainty. The air between them was thick again, the awkward silence pressed in on him, and he opened his mouth, his voice trembling just slightly as he began to speak.

“Your Majesty, about last night—”

Yeonjun interrupted him, his expression serious, “Allow me to apologize, Beomgyu. It would have been smarter for me to have someone else retrieve me. I didn’t think..”

His voice trailed off, the sincerity clear in his words, “I realize now that it was not a wise decision, given the... environment.”

The omega’s brow furrowed slightly, the words sinking into him, making his heart ache in an unfamiliar way.

He had not expected an apology from Yeonjun, especially after everything that had happened the night before,

“Then why didn’t you get someone else?” He asked, his voice quiet with a sharpness that surprised even him.

The alpha then had a weary look settling on his face, “There aren’t many I can trust,” he said simply, the weight of his words hanging heavy,

“So I settled on you. But now... I see it wasn’t the best decision, given the circumstances.” He hesitated for a moment before speaking again.

Beomgyu opened his mouth to respond, his mind racing with questions. Last night the prince had said to him: if you show powerful people your weakness, they will target it more.

A statement clearly about the way the prince felt about him. So he opened his mouth to ask, “When you told me-”

But before he finished, the prince cut him off again, his voice tinged with a slight frustration,

“Whatever I said last night... I was drunk and most likely was just saying nonsense. I don’t even remember half of it.” he said, a small laugh escaping his lips as he shook his head.

And never Beomgyu felt his heart twist painfully at his words. The way Yeonjun had so easily dismissed everything he had said was in some way dismissing everything he had felt.

But at the same time, he had also expected this, that it was nothing. What really hurt was the small expectation that it wasn’t. That maybe it meant something and he hated himself for feeling…upset. Angry even.

Even then, what right did he have to feel this way? The prince was also intoxicated, it could be that he seriously did not remember, so why was he still angry?

The frustration that swelled within him was fierce, but he held it back, the emotions threatening to burst through the cracks in his composure. His fingers curled into fists but he masked it in his expression.

“As you wish, Your Highness,” He bowed his head, tone colder than he had intended.

Yeonjun then noticed the sudden change in Beomgyu’s demeanor, looked at him and did not say anything for a moment.

“Are you…upset?” He asked, clearly confused, “Did I say something wrong?”

But the male couldn’t meet his gaze. He felt pathetic for being angry, but his omega could not help but feel disappointed for a reason he refused to name.

Instead, he turned away quickly, his heart hammering in his chest,

“You know where to find me if you need me, Your Majesty.” He said before rushing out of the room, leaving the prince standing there, still unsure of what had just transpired between them.

The door closed behind him with a soft thu  and Beomgyu leaned against it, taking a deep breath, trying to steady himself. His chest ached, emotions swirling in a way he couldn’t quite grasp.

He had been so close, so close to understanding something within himself, only for it to slip away like sand through his fingers. And for some reason, that hurt more than anything else.

With a heavy heart, he pushed himself off the door and made his way back to his quarters, each step heavier than the last.

For the next few hours, Beomgyu wandered the palace, the gravel paths crunching softly beneath his shoes as he moved without direction.

The sunlight shone through the golden leaves and a nice breeze soared through his hair. Yet despite the beauty surrounding him, his chest felt heavy.

“I don’t even remember half of it.”

He kicked some of the gravel off the path in just pure frustration. Yeonjun’s words had had struck Beomgyu with the force of a tidal wave. He had hoped, hoped in some foolish, naive corner of his heart, that his drunken words might have offered him a glimpse into the prince’s true feelings.

But no. It had been the ramblings of a drunk man, nothing more.

Why does it matter so much? Beomgyu asked himself bitterly. Why do I care whether he remembers or not? He couldn’t untangle the mess of emotions churning within him: disappointment, confusion, longing, and, most of all, shame.

Shame for holding onto words that had meant nothing to the one who spoke them.

He sighed, stopping in his tracks and staring down at his hands, clasped tightly in front of him. Enough, he told himself. He doesn’t remember. It doesn’t matter.

The rationality of that thought didn’t stop the ache in his chest but Beomgyu forced himself to push it aside. Straightening his posture, he decided to lose himself in the palace’s pathways, hoping the movement might ease his mind.

But as he made his way into the busier halls of the main palace, the reprieve he sought was cruelly snatched away.

“Ah, Beomgyu!” came a voice that immediately made his stomach churn.

And his demeanor sank as he turned to face Minister Daeho, who stood flanked by two of his cronies.

The minister was always a stout man with small, calculating eyes and an ever-present smirk that dripped with false charm and his gaze swept over Beomgyu in a way that made his skin crawl, and the younger man had to summon every ounce of composure not to recoil.

“Minister Daeho,” He said evenly, bowing as courtesy demanded, “I did not expect to see you here.”

“And yet, here we are. You’ll be seeing me till the year’s end so expect me more often.” the minister replied with an air of smug satisfaction.

He stepped closer, his eyes lingering far too long on Beomgyu’s face, “The palace suits you well, omega. Though I wonder, do you not find the prince’s service… demanding?”

He forced a polite smile, “His Majesty is fair, Minister. I am honored to serve him.”

“Ah ever the loyal attendant,” The beta smirked, “Still, the prince can be… intense, no? Perhaps you’d be more at ease in less strenuous company. My residence, for example, could use someone with your skills. You’d find a lot of work much… gentler.”

The insinuation in his tone made Beomgyu’s stomach twist, how does this man never change? He thought to himself but he refused to give the man the satisfaction of seeing his discomfort,

“I appreciate your offer, Minister but my duties lie here.”

Minister Daeho chuckled, a low sound, “Such loyalty. It’s commendable, truly. But loyalty can be so easily misplaced, don’t you think? After all, the whims of royalty are fickle.”

His cronies laughed sycophantically at his words, their eyes gleaming with malice.

Beomgyu’s jaw clenched, his hands tightening into fists at his sides but before he could formulate a response, a new voice cut through the air like a blade.

“Minister Daeho.”

A voice that he could place in a symphony of them, and he hated the way relief flooded his veins immediately at the sound of it.

Beomgyu as he turned to see Yeonjun approaching, his figure striking as always in his dark robes. The prince’s expression was calm but there was a sharpness in his gaze that made the minister stiffen.

“Crown Prince Yeonjun,” The minsiter said with a deep bow, “What an unexpected honor.”

The prince’s eyes flicked to Beomgyu briefly before settling on the minister, “I was looking for my servant,” he hummed, “And fortunately, he will not be able to join you. We have an event to attend anyways.”

Beomgyu blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. Event? he thought but Yeonjun gave no indication of elaborating.

“Ah, the annual hunt,” Minister Daeho said, nodding as though he’d known all along, “A most noble tradition. I trust the prince will represent the royal house with his usual excellence.”

“Indeed,” He replied coolly. “As such, Beomgyu must prepare. He has his duties to attend to, since he is, you know, a part of the House of Choi.”

The minister’s smile faltered slightly but he bowed again. “Of course, Your Highness. I would not dream of delaying you further.”

He straightened, his gaze sliding back to the omega for a moment, and the smirk returned, “Until next time, Beomgyu.”

And the male managed a stiff bow as Minister Daeho and his lackeys departed, leaving him alone with the alpha.

The prince turned to him, his sharp expression softening ever so slightly,

“Where did you go?” he asked, his tone quieter, “I couldn’t find you.”

Beomgyu looked down with guilt on his face, “I… I apologize, Your Majesty. I lost track of time. I only meant to clear my head.”

Yeonjun studied him for a moment with an undecipherable gaze. Then, he exhaled softly,

“If it’s about anything I said last night…” He hesitated, “I apologize. If I made you uncomfortable, or said something improper, it wasn’t my intent to hurt you.”

His heart ached at the sincerity in the male’s voice. It was clear that the prince had absolutely no memory of his drunken confession and was likely worried he’d said something embarrassing.

And, for a fleeting moment, Beomgyu considered telling him the truth—that his words had stirred something deep within him, that there was something changed in the air between them that he had wished to speak about.

But the thought of burdening Yeonjun with his own confusion made him hesitate.

“It’s alright, Your Majesty,” he said softly, managing a genuine smile, “Nothing happened. I’ve just… never dealt with a drunk person before.”

Yeonjun seemed to still for a moment, eyes dropping down to his smile but then seemed relieved by this, his shoulders relaxing,

“I’m glad to hear that.” His expression then faltered slightly, “And about the minister, did they say anything to you? Anything like before?”

He shook his head, “No, they only mentioned their plans to stay here until the year’s end.”

The prince frowned, his brows knitting together, “Strange. I’m not sure what business they have here, but it’s not worth worrying about now.”

He then seized the opportunity to change the subject, about the event he had mentioned. The annual hunting festival, a noble event that happens every November when the hunt is said to be the best,

“When does the hunting festival begin, Your Majesty?”

“In about a week,” He replied, “It’s supposed to last four days instead of three this year. Apparently, the hunt is plentiful this season.”

“Will I… be accompanying you?” He asked uncertainly. He knows that only the alpha men from each house go, so he has never been to one.

Yeonjun hunmed, the teasing glint in his eyes returning, “Do you even know anything about the hunt?”

He flushed slightly while shaking his head. “Only that you and the other nobles go to hunt.”

The prince chuckled softly, “I suppose that’s true, but it’s more than that. It’s a competition between the grand houses—who can catch the most game. My brother Soobin will be coming as well, but we also invite our personal servants and attendants.”

Beomgyu nodded as his thoughts briefly turned to the younger prince.

Prince Royal Soobin, second in line to throne, and only a few months older than him. In his memories, the prince was a very quiet and shy boy, and never spoke to him. He would often remember though how the prince cried whenever he was separated from the queen, and how sick he would get when the harsh winter came.

And though they had never been close, he had heard only good things about Soobin’s kind and gentle nature.

“Well,” Yeonjun then spoke up, “we have much to prepare for. Come.”

And with that, Beomgyu followed him, the tension of the day finally beginning to ebb away though his heart remained as restless as ever.

———

The journey to the hunting festival began at the break of dawn two days later.

The royal retinue moved through the palace gates in grandeur, the clatter of hooves and the creak of carriages breaking the early morning silence. Beomgyu sat quietly inside one of the attendants’ carriages, his hands resting loosely in his lap as he watched the world unfold beyond the window.

Hanyang’s narrow streets teemed with life yet as the journey progressed the urban sprawl gave way to the open countryside, and Beomgyu found himself leaning closer to the window, his breath fogging the glass as he took in the vast fields of swaying rice and the occasional patch of dense woodland.

It had been almost a decade since he had left the capital. The walls of the palace as beautiful as they were, can also be imposing and encaging The chance to see the world beyond its confines was a gift, even if it came as part of his duties to Yeonjun.

Their destination, Yeonjun had told him, was Jirisan, nestled within the Sebaek Mountains to the southeast. The prince had mentioned it almost offhandedly, but Beomgyu felt excited at the thought of seeing fall in bloom, the last he had seen of any sprawling forest or mountain was when they went to north and even then, everything was covered in snow.

The journey itself was smoother than Beomgyu had expected.

When the royal family had traveled north, the cold had been merciless, the snow blinding, and the air so thin that each breath had felt like a battle. Compared to that, this journey to the south was extremely pleasant. The weather grew milder as they traveled, the air tinged with the faint scent of pine and earth.

On the second day, the retinue stopped at a small village to rest.

Beomgyu lingered at the edge of the gathering, watching as the villagers came out to greet the prince. Yeonjun rode in on a sleek white horse, and the villagers bowed low, their voices murmuring prayers and blessings. Yeonjun acknowledged them with a nod.

Beomgyu walked around the village, it was honestly very similar to hanyang but the thought of being in a village far from where he came was still exciting. He was looking at one of the vendor stands where they sold necklaces, one of them held a stone that was a deep red ruby necklace, and it caught his eyes.

“Are you enjoying the journey?” Yeonjun’s voice startled Beomgyu out of his thoughts. The prince had approached him quietly, his horse’s hooves muffled against the soft ground.

He quickly bowed, “Yes, Your Majesty. It is quite refreshing to see the countryside.”

The alpha dismounted and then walked towards him, “You’ve been confined to the palace for too long, haven’t you?”

The observation made his cheeks tint pink, “Maybe so, Your Majesty,” He looked down and picked up one of the necklaces, “Everything feels different outside of the palace, even these necklaces.”

“You find novelty in the simplest things,” he remarked while tilting his head slightly, “That is refreshing.”

The vendor, an older man with a knowing gaze, leaned forward from where he sat on a small wooden stool.

“Ah, you have a keen eye, young master,” his voice thick with the accent of the southern provinces.

He gestured to the garnet necklace in Beomgyu’s hands, “That one holds meaning, you know. Do you know what it is?”

Beomgyu shook his head, his fingers brushing over the smooth surface of the stone as if trying to discern its secret. Beside him, the alpha’s brows raised slightly in curiosity, though he, too, said nothing.

The vendor leaned back, a slow smile spreading across his face, “Passionate love,” he exclaimed, “That stone is said to bring it into one’s life. If you seek love, young master, you may find it with this.”

The words struck Beomgyu like a sudden gust of wind, unexpected and unsettling.

Love, even the word is enough to make him uneasy. The one thing he can never dream to have, although, it is the only thing he dreams of. Then his mind thought of a certain hand brushing his hair, words whispered in his ear, a certain ache in his heart, and he nearly dropped the necklace.

He placed it back on the stall, “Oh no,” he shook his head, voice laced with embarrassment,“Love… Love is not for me.”

The vendor laughed, a hearty sound that seemed to echo in the small clearing,

“Ah, but you are a young omega, so that may change!” he said, his eyes twinkling.

And all Beomgyu could think of was how truly he wished it could change,if only the old man knew of his circumstances.

Then his eyes shifted to Yeonjun who stood silent but watchful beside the omega, “Perhaps it is for you, my Crown Prince. After all, your marriage is set for next year, is it not?”

The prince’s expression did not waver at the words, “Indeed,” he agreed, “I am to be married soon.” And reached out to take it in hand.

Beomgyu cast a sidelong glance at the prince at this, somehow that unsettled him even more. The prince falling in love with someone? It was hard to imagine so at the thought of it, he shook his head but Yeonjun though seemed unbothered, his regal demeanor impenetrable.

They turned to leave the stall, the vendor’s laughter and cheerful well-wishes following them.

As they rode back toward the carriages, the path winding through the village, Yeonjun broke the silence,

“You know, you were quick to dismiss the idea of love.” he said edged with curiosity.

The omega hesitated, his steps faltering for just a moment, “I… It is not something I think about, Your Majesty. My life is devoted to serving the palace, there is no room for such things.”

“Perhaps that is true for now,” he said the faintest hint of a frown playing at the corners of his lips,

“But who knows, when you are free, the future is seldom as you imagine.”

And to this, Beomgyu didn’t reply. He did not know what to say.

When they reached the carriages, the attendants were busy preparing for their departure, and Beomgyu was about to climb into his carriage when a voice stopped him.

“Beomgyu, here.”

He turned, startled to see the prince standing close and in his hand, Yeonjun held the garnet necklace, the polished stone gleaming in the sun.

“I believe this is yours.” He said while holding it out to him.

The omega stared at the necklace, heart beating unsteadily in his chest, “Your Majesty, I cannot accept—”

“You can,” The alpha interrupted gently, “And you will. Consider it a token… of this journey. And for your future.”

Beomgyu hesitated, his hand trembling slightly as he reached out to take the necklace. His fingers brushed against the latter’s, the brief contact sending a jolt up his arm,

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” he said bowed his head.

And Yeonjun did not say anything but offer him a small nod, before turning and heading to his carriage, leaving Beomgyu standing with his heart thumping and hand holding a garnet necklace tightly.

By the third day, the landscape began to change.

The rolling plains gave way to gentle hills, lush greenery,streams meandering through the valleys, and Beomgyu found himself captivated by the sheer beauty of it all. For the first time in years, he felt a sense of awe so profound it left him breathless.

“It’s beautiful.” he murmured to himself, the words barely audible over the rumble of the carriage wheels.

Beside him, one of the attendants to Prince Royal Soobin, a nice beta named Jihoon, glanced over with a smile,

“You’ve never seen the mountains before?”

“Not like this,” He admitted with wonder, “The northern ranges were covered in snow so I could never see it like this.”

Jihoon hummed, “They say Jirisan is sacred, home to spirits older than the mountains themselves. If you listen closely, they might influence your every word and movement.”

Beomgyu wasn’t sure he believed in such things, but there was an undeniable energy in the air.

On the morning of the fourth day, the retinue finally reached their destination.

The forest opened up into a clearing at the base of the mountains, where sprawling, wooden houses and pavilions awaited, banners bearing the crests of the great houses, Choi, Kang, Kim, Park, and Hwang, fluttered in the breeze. They are the same houses that these nobles ancestors used to stay at during their hunt, a place filled with history.

When Crown Prince Yeonjun and Prince Royal Soobin descended from their carriages, a fanfare of trumpets erupted, accompanied by the pounding of ceremonial drums. The sound reverberated through the clearing, a triumphant announcement that the hunt was soon to commence.

Attendants scurried about, ensuring every detail was perfect for their nobles. Meanwhile, Beomgyu followed Jihoon through the organized chaos, their path leading toward the modest quarters designated for the servants.

The air was filled with scents of armor, pine & coal, a faint aroma of roasted meat, Beomgyu’s eyes darted from one busy figure to another, his heart quickened by the unfamiliarity of it all.

Jihoon walked a step ahead, glancing back occasionally to ensure Beomgyu followed.

“You must have many questions about the hunt,” he began, seeing how overwhelmed the omega is, “It is quite the ordeal, especially for first-timers.”

Beomgyu quickened his pace to walk beside him, “What exactly does it entail?”

“The hunt, as you know, is not merely a game. It is a tradition, an event that these houses take pride in.”

He continued, “From each of the five great houses, two sons are chosen to participate. That makes ten hunters in total. Usually the hunt is three days but this one will last for four days due to the plentiful hunt this year. The terrain is harsh too and whether it be deer or sometimes even wolves, is all game.”

The thought of hunting something such as a wolf or a bear frightened him slightly, the prowess of those animals are fierce.

He hesitated, “And… do the servants accompany them?”

Jihoon shook his head firmly, “No, It is only the nobles who hunt, that is all part of the game. They must rely on themselves and it is what makes the feast on the final day all the more grand. Everything served at the feast is what the hunters have caught with their own hands.”

The omega’s stomach turned slightly at the thought of such grueling days in the wilderness, “It sounds daunting.” he murmured.

“It is,” Jihoon agreed, “But it is also a great honor. That is why the nobles hold it in such high regard.”

As they approached the servants’ quarters, the atmosphere shifted subtly. The bustling energy of the nobles gave way to a quieter, more grounded sense of camaraderie among the attendants.

Several servants stood chatting near the entrance, their laughter carrying lightly on the breeze. When Jihoon and Beomgyu drew near, one of them, a tall beta with a mischievous grin, turned to them.

“Well, well,” the man said, his tone teasing as his eyes landed on Beomgyu, “A stupidly familiar face among us, and one with such womanly hands. Are you certain you belong here?”

Beomgyu knew he spoke of him, of his omega features, and he felt an anger dwell within. Not even one minute inside the quarters and he is already being targeted.

But before he could muster a response, Jihoon stepped forward, “Enough, Hyunjae,” he said firmly, “Mockery does not suit you.”

Hyunjae raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin undiminished, “No harm meant, Jihoon. Just a jest.”

But the beta’s gaze did not waver. “Jest or not, respect should always come first. Especially to those who already wear a crest.”

And at that moment, Hyunjae realized the golden glint on his jeogori and immediately scowled, walking away but not forgetting to bump his shoulder harshly in retaliation.

“What an absolute jerk.” Beomgyu grumbled.

Jihoon hummed before walking forward, “A jerk he is. I do not take kindly to those who belittle others for their rank, and I will give anyone hell who decides to bother you anymore.”

“You are kind to me already, Jihoon. There is no need to defend me further.” He grabbed his arm lightly.

Jihoon turned to him, his expression softening into something more personal, “Kindness is not a favor, and I cannot stand those who find amusement in others’ discomfort. Male omegas, female alphas, they are always the first to face ridicule.”

Beomgyu studied the male’s face, noting the weight behind his words. “It sounds as though you speak from experience.”

The beta nodded, “My father was a male omega,” he said,  “I saw firsthand the cruelty the world had for him. Even as a child, I understood how unfair it was.”

A pang of sympathy bloomed in Beomgyu’s chest, the words hitting a bit too close to home. A male omega as a father, if he ever chose to have children, his own children would have to feel the same sentiment most likely.

Out of curiosity he softly asked, “And… how is your father now?”

But then Jihoon’s expression lightened, a small smile gracing his lips, “He is well, living by the sea and away from it all.”

Beomgyu felt a wave of relief at the words, at least there is someone out there like him who finds relief in this world, “I am glad to hear that,” he said earnestly.

The conversation eased the tension that had briefly lingered and as they entered the quarters, Beomgyu found himself feeling more at ease in Jihoon’s company.

The servants’ quarters were well-kept, with neatly arranged bedding and a communal space for meals. Jihoon guided Beomgyu to a small corner, helping him settle in as the day began, they had a long one to prepare for.

The hunt will start at 12, Jihoon had told him. It was three hours till then, everyone already settled in. So, Beomgyu decided to head to the house in which the princes stay to help Yeonjun early on.

Despite the clear instructions he thought he had received, his steps faltered with uncertainty. The layout was unfamiliar and he found himself hesitating at intersections, the house was more complex that it seemed

The faint scent of sandalwood and vanilla drifted through the air, it was a scent unlike the sharp musk that usually accompanied alphas—softer, almost soothing. Trusting his instincts, Beomgyu slid open a door, only to immediately regret his decision.

Standing in the room, shirtless and relaxful, was Prince Royal Soobin.

His broad shoulders caught the soft morning light, the smooth planes of his skin marked with faint scars that spoke of past hunts and sparring sessions. Beomgyu froze, his face flooding with heat as his eyes darted everywhere but directly at the prince.

“Ah, Your Majesty!” he exclaimed, stumbling back, his heel caught on a low stool, sending it clattering to the ground. “Forgive me! I must have taken the wrong turn, I didn’t mean to—”

The alpha turned, his lips quirking into an amused smile as he reached for a nearby shirt,

“Calm down, Beomgyu,” he laughed warmly, voice deeper than he had expected, “It is no offense. Though I must say, you certainly know how to make an entrance.”

Beomgyu’s stammered apologies only increased in frequency, his hands fluttering as he attempted to bow and pick up the stool at the same time.

Before he could extricate himself from the situation, an unmistakable familiar voice, sharp and laced with authority, rang out from behind the corner near Soobin.

“What in heaven’s name is all that noise?”

Beomgyu turned swiftly, his cheeks aflame to find Crown Prince Yeonjun standing near him. His hair was slightly mussed and his sharp eyes scanned the room, narrowing when they landed on Beomgyu’s flushed face and Soobin’s state of undress.

“Beomgyu,” He had said extremely confused, “what might you be doing here?”

“I—Your Majesty, I came early to assist you,” The omega stammered, bowing deeply, “But I… I lost my way and…”

Yeonjun’s gaze shifted from Beomgyu to Soobin, his expression darkening slightly as he reached for the shirt on the floor and then tossed it at him harshly,

“Put this on, you fool” he ordered, his tone clipped but not unkind. His brother opened his mouth to argue back but then, the elder alpha grabbed Beomgyu by the wrist and pulled him out of the room.

“This is the way to my chambers,” Yeonjun explained as they walked, “If you are to assist me, you must at least know where to find me.”

Beomgyu nodded and his head bowed, the embarrassment from his earlier blunder still lingering, “I apologize, Your Majesty. I will do better to remember.”

The crown prince glanced at him sidelong, “I should have expected as much, given how vast this place is.”

As they reached Yeonjun’s chambers, Beomgyu found himself immediately put to work. The room was spacious yet meticulously organized, with hunting gear and clothing neatly arranged.

Near the entrance, a selection of weapons, bows, arrows, and spears, were laid out. Outside, a sturdy wagon awaited, its purpose clear: to transport the spoils of the hunt.

Everything else was set so Beomgyu focused on packing on the prince’s clothes and basic necessities into a hefty yet travel worthy pack. Jeogori in muted hues, thick outer robes for the cold nights, and sturdy boots were carefully folded and arranged. The scent of pine overwhelmed the scent of everywhere else, but here it only smelled of Yeonjun.

He carefully folded the garments for the hunt but despite his efforts, his chestnut hair that now on his shoulders kept slipping forward, brushing against his face and obscuring his view.

With an exasperated sigh, he finally paused and reached up to gather the unruly strands. His fingers worked to tie it back into a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck.

The effort was clumsy and a few stray locks escaped, framing his face in a way that made him look more disheveled than he liked. As he adjusted it, he felt a pressure on him and slowly he looked up and caught Yeonjun watching him.

The crown prince leaned casually against the side of a wooden beam, his arms folded, his expression had the faintest glimmer of something in his eyes.

Beomgyu froze and felt the tips of his ears burning. The prince had asked him to cut it long ago and he did, but his hair grows fast,  

“Spare your words, Your Majesty,” he sighed, “I already know what you will say, that I must cut it.”

Yeonjun’s brow furrowed ever so slightly but the words that came were not what he expected,

“Don’t,” he said, “There’s no need.”

The simplicity of the statement sent a jolt through his chest. For a moment, his hands faltered, and he looked down, pretending to adjust the tie in his hair. The memory of another night crept unbidden into his mind when Yeonjun had told him something similar, Don’t cut your hair, I like it better like that.

That night has been something Beomgyu forced himself to stop thinking about, but hearing the same words being repeated to him, this time in a different context, he felt his heart churn with the weight of what was lost, of what Yeonjun no longer seemed to remember, of the secret desire he held within to speak to the prince about.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” he murmured and turned back to his task.

But the faint warmth in his chest lingered, bittersweet and unshakable, as if his eyes still rested on him even when the moment passed.

So the omega continued to busy himself with organizing the last of the prince’s belongings for the hunt when the male’s voice interrupted his focus.

“Beomgyu,” He called from behind the changing screen, his tone unhurried but expectant, “Come help me with this.”

He looked up and stepped toward the screen, hesitating for a moment before rounding it to find Yeonjun standing partially dressed in the ceremonial hunting attire of the House of Choi.

The rich blue jeogori embroidered with the golden crest of their house hung loosely over his shoulders, the ties still undone. Beside him, a heavy crimson outer robe lay draped over the stand.

Yeonjun glanced at him, his expression expectant gestured to the robe,

“It’s tradition to be dressed in full regalia as we leave for the hunt, but I can’t very well tie it all myself, can I?”

He blinked and stepped forward, his hands deft yet careful as he adjusted the outer robe over Yeonjun’s broad shoulders, smoothing the fabric where it bunched.

The ceremonial clothing was heavy and stiff, designed more for appearances than comfort, and Beomgyu’s fingers brushed the alpha’s collarbone as he worked, drawing the ties together with practiced ease.

“Hold still,” He murmured, his focus entirely on his task.

And the alpha obeyed, his eyes steady on the servant’s face. There was an air of silence between them, the kind that teetered between comfortable and charged.

He knew from this angle, so up close, the prince could see him in its entirety, and what is worse, as he stood on his toes to drape it over the prince, his entire chest pressed against Yeonjun’s, their scents developing into one of both honey and cinnamon.

Suddenly the prince broke the quie, “Are you wearing it?”

He froze mid-motion, “Wearing what, Your Majesty?”

“The necklace,” The prince clarified, “The one I gave you.”

The realization hit that even through the layers of clothes, the prince could feel his body too. And that made Beomgyu’s face heat up.

He nodded at his words and he pulled the ruby necklace out from beneath his jeogori. The garnet gleamed against the delicate curve of his neck.

Almost shyly he admitted, “I wear it every day.”

Yeonjun’s eyes lingered on the necklace, then shifted back to the omega’s face and then his lips curved into the faintest of smiles,

“Good,” he said after a moment. “Ruby is good for luck too. The vendor forgot to mention that.”

Beomgyu felt his own fingers brush against the necklace, his heart skipping a beat at the prince’s words. And without thinking, he reached behind his neck, unclasping the chain. He held it in his hands, admiring it for a brief second before looking up into the swirling orbs of the alpha.

If the prince could not remember the words he said to him that night, if there was nothing that could incentivize him to speak the things he said in broad daylight, then he shall create a moment for it. For the prince to think of him, to feel compelled to be honest to him, to give him the answers he deserves, and to say what he feels clearly without restraint.

“For you,” Beomgyu spoke quietly, stepping closer, the scent of honey and orange blossom filling the small area.

He grabbed the prince’s hand and put the necklace in his grsp for him, “If it brings luck, then think of it as my charm for you, my prince.”

The words my prince slipped from his tongue unbidden, carrying a weight that felt far too intimate. He did not mean to say those words, he had not referred to the male that way since he was a child, but it came out so naturally that he could not control he.

And he noticed the way Yeonjun’s eyes widened briefly at the words, this sense of tenderness completely unexpected and out of character for the omega. The air in the room grew even heavier, the faintest spike of cedar and cinnamon now blended with that of his own.

The alpha swallowed and spoke up after what felt like a millennium, “Thank you, Beomgyu.”

He sounded restrained, as if he wanted to say something more but the omega knew that at this moment he wouldn’t. It was only to hope for the future, he maybe would.

Beomgyu hummed, his eyes downcast as he stepped back to continue adjusting Yeonjun’s robes,

“Now, you must catch every beast in the forest,” he joked, attempting to dispel the weight of the moment.

Yeonjun’s lips quivered in a faint smirk, “Oh, I promise to hunt even a bear, if it’s for you.”

The words although spoken with a teasing lilt still struck something deep within Beomgyu. He laughed softly but the ache in his chest remained. That same bittersweet feeling overcame him, but the hope of this movement remained strong.

He hoped that those four days he spends in the forest, he will think of him, of bringing back the most hunt, of seeing him once again. It was a desire he could not explain truly, and if anyone was to ask, he would say it is because he has answers he deserves to hear. But there is more truth to that then he would ever dare to admit.

“Well, it is nearly time. You look ready, my prince.” The omega stated, stepping back to admire his work.

The alpha swallowed even harder this time at the words, “And thanks to you, I feel ready,” He replied, the same intense gaze lingering on Beomgyu.

“Then I believe it is time for the hunt to start,” he bowed slightly and Yeonjun nodded, his composure returning.

Together, they left the chambers and made their way to the clearing, where the hunters and their attendants were gathering. The sun was nearing its zenith, signaling the start of the hunt and three long days that lay ahead.

As 12pm hit, Yeonjun and Soobin made their way to the front, their wagons loaded with supplies and weapons. Them and the rest of the nobles bade their farewells to those remaining behind. Beomgyu, standing at the edge of the crowd, couldn’t help but watch Yeonjun.

The prince’s posture was perfect, his eyes set with a focused tension that Beomgyu admired but also worried over. He was the crown prince, he couldn’t be hurt, not in a hunt like this.

The words of caution from other servants who had explained the dangers of the hunt earlier, echoed in his mind. There had been previous incidents where noble sons had lost their lives in these treacherous woods.

The hunt was meant to test their strength and courage but it also left them vulnerable to the unpredictable nature of the wilderness.

Beomgyu’s heart clenched as Yeonjun and Soobin mounted their horses, setting off toward the vast forest. The wagons pulled by them followed behind their wheels crunching against the dirt road.

As the last of the carriages disappeared beyond the horizon, Beomgyu couldn’t shake the feeling of unease settling into his chest.

———

For the next three days, Beomgyu would be left to thoughts such as this.

While the first day wasn’t particularly difficult, the weight of his worries never left him. He spent most of his time helping in the kitchens and arranging the tables for the grand feast. The chefs barked orders for prep and directed servants and although he  moved quietly among them, his thoughts were far away.

As the evening came about, Beomgyu found himself thinking more and more about Yeonjun and Soobin. What were they doing? Were they all right? Every so often, his mind would wander to the worst possible outcome—an injury, a misstep, the fear gnawed at him.

When night fell, he knew the men were out there somewhere, facing the dangers of the hunt, and as much as he told himself that it was nothing to fret over, he could not shake the thought that something could happen. And his omega seemed to be in pain at the thought of it.

By the time the second day rolled around, the heavens had opened and poured down rain that soaked the earth beneath them.

Beomgyu, drenched through and through, continued his work, but his thoughts remained as heavy as the sky above.  The cold, damp air did nothing to settle his nerves. The rain would make it even harder for a fire to start, wouldn’t it? And to hunt as well, he thought to himself as he worked.

It was in the late afternoon, as Beomgyu was carrying a tray of food to the kitchens, when a certain confrontation began.

"You’re looking awfully soft today, Beomgyu," one of the other servants sneered.

His name was Dowon, a brash, arrogant alpha who served House Park and also known for his sharp tongue and crude remarks. His eyes glinted with a mocking sort of amusement as he stepped closer to the omega.

Beomgyu, keeping his head down, tried to ignore him, but Dowon wouldn’t let up,

"What’s wrong? Weren’t you all smiles when His Highness Yeonjun was here? Or are you finally realizing that you’re nothing more than a pretty face, good for nothing but serving?"

The jab landed deeper than Beomgyu expected and though he tried to keep his composure, but Dowon wasn't done.

It was the same useless jabber everyone else spat at him but with his worries for Yeonjun and everything else that had happened between the two, he was just over it because he did not have time for it.

"Tell me, do you really think the prince sees you as anything other than a pet? Maybe he’ll have you pampered once the hunt is over, but that’s the extent of it." The alpha’s smirk widened,

"Though, I wouldn’t mind seeing what Yeonjun’s pet looks like in a real fighf. I bet the prince wouldn’t save you from a real scrap, would he? I’m sure he’s too busy with the others, keeping them entertained."

The male’s heart skipped at the insinuation, his fists tightening at his sides. The mention of Yeonjun, of their relationship, however fragile and complex it was, struck a chord deep within him. His breath hitched, the familiar burn of anger and shame creeping up his neck.

Without thinking, Beomgyu’s hand shot out, the back of his palm slapping across Dowon’s face with a sharp crack that echoed in the space between them. The shock of the strike hung in the air, eyes wide with the realization of what he had just done.

Dowon staggered back, his hand flying to his cheek, his eyes narrowing in fury, "You dare—?" His voice was low and dangerous, his hand curling into a fist.

He swung at Beomgyu without warning, the force of the blow aimed at his face. But Beomgyu wasn’t quick enough to avoid it and the punch landed squarely. The impact knocked the breath out of him and he stumbled back, pain blooming across his body,

"You think you can strike me?" Dowon’s words were filled with mockery, his lips curled into a sneer using his alpha voice, "You omega, know your place."

But he ignored it, ignored the way it shattered his bones, "Shut up," Beomgyu growled, his voice trembling with rage. The pain from the punch was forgotten for a moment as the red haze of fury clouded his thoughts.

With a rush of adrenaline, Beomgyu lunged and shoved the alpha backward, the force of it causing him to stumble and crash into a stack of crates.

But Dowon recovered quickly, slamming his fist into the omega’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He gasped, his hands clutching at his abdomen but he refused to give in. His hands balled into fists again but the moment he raised them, he felt a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Enough," Jihoon’s voice cut through the tension like the edge of a blade. He had appeared just in time stepping between the two,

"You’re making a scene," he added coldly, his eyes flicking to the other servants who had gathered around, watching the altercation.

Dowon glared at Beomgyu, his chest heaving with exertion before he spat on the floor where he stood, "You’ll regret this, omega." his voice dripping with venom.

Jihoon’s grip tightened on the omega’s shoulder, forcing him to step back, "Go to the medic, Beomgyu, you’re bleeding quite badly. I’ll deal with the rest."

Beomgyu glanced down at his knuckles, already beginning to bruise from the force of the fight. He wasn’t sure what had come over him, why he had reacted so impulsively.  

As he made his way to the medic’s quarter, the rain poured down on his shoulders while he remained now lost in his thoughts. Yeonjun, he thought again, the anger now mixing into a swirl of guilt and worry.

What will he think when finds out he punched another person? When the other houses tell him that he truly is an uncontrollable omega? The thought of it was even more worrying than the repercussions he may face for getting into a fight itself.

The medic quarters smelled of herbs and antiseptic and his head throbbed as he entered, his mind still reeling from the fight. His cheek stung, feeling the bruise beginning to form, and his body felt drained, aching from the tension and the impact.

Beomgyu took one step inside and froze. He had not expected to see this familiar face.

"Junsu?" His voice came out in a whisper, disbelief clouding his mind.

The man standing before him, a medic of few words, was none other than Junsu—the same, odd man from the treasury quarters. The short man sat there, organizing his supplies, and from behind he looked like every other old man but there was no mistaking it.

Junsu looked up from the supplies he was sorting and smiled softly,

"Ah, Beomgyu! It is nice to see you here." His voice was calm as though he were accustomed to unexpected reunions.

He blinked,  "What... What are you doing here? How are you here?" He paused, "I don’t remember you being part of this journey."

Junsu chuckled loudly and blaring, "I told you I was a medic once, didn’t I?"

It was almost amusing, here was Junsu, as though he had simply appeared out of nowhere. He would laugh out loud if his stomach wasn’t already tightening as a dull ache spread across his where Beomgyu’s punch had landed.

"This truly doesn’t make sense," he muttered but the pain in his body was distracting him from his thoughts.

The bruise on his cheek was already swelling and he couldn’t focus enough to argue.

Junsu raised an eyebrow, bemused. He gestured toward the cot,  "Lie down, my boy. You’re in no condition to stand around and argue."

His eyes clearly noted the pain that still radiated through him, "I’ll take care of you."

Beomgyu hesitated but his body betrayed him. Every inch of him ached. He felt every bruise, every strain. His lip still throbbed as he sighed in defeat and sat down on the cot, his hands clutching at the edge, trying to steady himself.

"I’m fine," He muttered though his voice was far from convincing.

He rubbed his temples, still feeling the dizzying effects of the fight, "I don’t even know why Jihoon sent me here. It’s just a small bruise, nothing serious."

Junsu gave him a knowing look, his lips curling slightly, "Ah, I too once knew a boy who refused my help."

His voice softened, the words carrying a sense of both humor and understanding, "But you’re no exception. You’ll lie down and let me tend to you."

Beomgyu wanted to argue but he was too tired, too sore. He closed his eyes briefly, letting the exhaustion wash over him. When he finally spoke, it was with a sigh,

“I’m not refusing your help. I just... don’t want to waste your time or supplies on these meager injuries."

Junsu’s hands paused for a moment before he continued his work. He looked at Beomgyu with an expression of quiet wisdom, "No injury is meager, Beomgyu. Each one matters."

His hands moved with practiced ease as he applied a cold compress to the bruise on the omega’s cheek, carefully cleaning the cut on his lip. The sensation of the cold against his skin sent a jolt of relief through him but it didn’t quite ease everything, a distressing scent of honey and orange blossom floating through the air.

As Junsu worked, Beomgyu found himself becoming lost in the man’s calm presence. He couldn’t remember the last time he had let someone else take care of him.

"You shouldn’t fight with others like this, Beomgyu," The old man remarked, his tone almost a reprimand,  "It will do you no good."

He stiffened at the comment, for it was true, "I never fight with others like this," he replied,  "It’s just... it’s been a rough month."

Junsu’s hands moved gently but efficiently, tending to the bruise on his cheek, "It’s more than just the month, isn’t it?"

He spoke as if he was no stranger to the weight of unspoken burden, and his words held a quiet understanding,

"The heart carries more than we sometimes care to admit."

Beomgyu let out a shaky breath at how truthful the words rang in his ears. There was a long pause before Beomgyu spoke again, the question lingering in his mind,

"Wait, Junsu... I meant to ask you something. How do you even know who I am? You said it back then too."

Junsu raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye, "Oh? Did I not make such an impression on you that you’ve forgotten me?" he joked.

Beomgyu wasn’t in the mood for humor, though, je looked up at Junsu, serious now, "C’mon, just answer for me. I cannot laugh right now, like physically."

The old man laughed at those words and then smiled, "I knew your mother," he said simply. "You look just like your parents."

Beomgyu’s heart skipped. His breath caught in his throat. "My... my parents?" he asked, the words leaving his mouth in a whisper.

He hadn’t expected this and those choice of words. Parents. Both Mother and Father. His heart raced and his hand instinctively grabbed Junsu’s, sitting closer he exclaimed, "You knew my father?"

He had never heard of anyone knowing his father, his mother never spoke of him and the king and queen swore they never knew of him. For all his life, he was but a bastard omega and now the idea of someone other than his mother being able to speak of his father made his heart beat faster than before,

Junsu’s eyes widened in confusion, "Did I say parents? My apologies. I meant to just say your mother," he corrected himself, his voice now tinged with a touch of awkwardness,

"I’m an old man, sometimes my words get muddled."

Beomgyu blinked, his thoughts spinning. Of course, what else could he expect but he didn’t let disappointment overtake within. Junsu was an old man, though, but perhaps his memories didn’t serve him well enough,

"It’s alright," he murmured, "The fact you even knew my mother is surprising enough."

Junsu smiled again, “You have her eyes, that’s for sure.”

Then the old man reached for his shirt, wanting to pull it up to treat the bruise on his stomach. Beomgyu though immediately fidgeted, the thought of Junsu seeing what lay beneath the fabric of his jeorori, the memories it might stir. His breath caught and for a moment, he hesitated.

Junsu, sensing the pause, looked up, his expression patient yet insistent, "It’s no use delaying it. Let me tend to you properly. Raise your shirt so I can see the bruise."

The words hung heavy in the air. Beomgyu's heart quickened, the pit in his stomach tightening as he slowly reached for the hem of his jeorori. His fingers trembled as he lifted the fabric, revealing the scarred sides of his back.

The skin there was taut and tan, marked with the cruel, jagged lines of past whippings. They weren’t infected, just deep, old scars that refused to fade.

At the sight Junsu’s eyes widened,  "My god, what happened here?"

Beomgyu looked away, trying to avoid the memory that threatened to flood his mind. His voice was soft, barely audible, "Whippings... when I was seventeen."

Junsu's hands paused, hovering above Beomgyu’s back for a moment. The weight of the statement hung in the air, a heavy silence falling between them.

Junsu took a slow breath, his eyes never leaving the scars that marred the young man's back, "Did you get caught doing something bad? Stealing, perhaps?" He probed.

Beomgyu shook his head as the past flashed before his eyes. His chest tightened, "No... nothing like that."

"What was it, then?"

Beomgyu let out a long, weary sigh. He knew he shouldn’t speak of it so he just vaguely recalled it,

"I slapped someone I shouldn’t have." he muttered.

Junsu’s eyes flickered with surprise, and then as though he couldn’t quite believe it, he laughed, "I thought you said you didn’t get into fights."

His voice carried the lighthearted tone of someone who was well acquainted with Beomgyu’s usual disposition.

"I don’t!" Beomgyu shot back, his voice a little too sharp he shifted uncomfortably, the soreness from the previous fight still throbbing through him, "That was more than three years ago, you know."

Junsu smiled knowingly, his fingers gently applying ointment to the bruised skin on Beomgyu’s back,

"You were quite a reckless one, I see. But we all have our pasts." His hands worked with practiced ease, covering the scars with a healing paste that soothed the sting.

Beomgyu said nothing, and allowed Junsu’s hands to continue their work. After a long moment Junsu stood, wiping his hands on a cloth.

"There," he said softly. "That should help ease the pain. You shouldn’t let such things go untreated. Come back to me tomorrow, I will check up on these alright."

Beomgyu nodded and then made his way out, bidding him a thank you and then a farewell. Just one more day. One more day and then Yeonjun will be back, and everything will be fine.

———

The following day came and with it the weight of anticipation.

The nobles were expected to return by noon. After visiting Junsu to put on more ointment, Beomgyu made his way to the entrance and stood in the courtyard, he felt a sense of unease settle deep in his bones. His eyes scanning the horizon, waiting for any sign of their arrival.

The clock struck twelve, the sound of the fanfare echoing through the air and still, there was no sign of them.

Beomgyu's heart pounded in his chest as he stood as still as a statue. The quiet rustle of the wind was the only sound that reached his ears as he anxiously watched. As the minutes stretched, the weight of uncertainty pressed against his chest like a suffocating fog. He fought the urge to pace, his eyes twitching to every movement in the distance, but still no familiar figure appeared.

And the silence in the clearing seemed to stretch on forever.

The other houses began to return, their wagons slowly rumbling into view. One by one, the servants unloaded their spoils—boar, deer, small game—each haul modest, but it was enough to stir the excitement of the crowd. Beomgyu barely registered it. His mind was too clouded with worry, his thoughts consumed by Yeonjun and Soobin, who still hadn’t appeared.

The servants bustled around him, the sounds of the feast preparations growing louder, more frantic, but Beomgyu couldn’t focus on anything but the empty road. His heart raced faster as the minutes passed, and a pit formed in his stomach. What could be taking them so long?

He looked up at the sky, the blueness of it all contrasting his own anxieties, as if nature itself was holding its breath in anticipation.

Suddenly, the silence was broken. The unmistakable sound of hooves pounding the earth echoed across the land. Beomgyu’s head snapped up, his breath catching in his throat. His heart leapt in his chest as a figure appeared.

It was Prince Royal Soobin.

He rode in with an air of quiet confidence. For a moment he was not sure why but then he noticed it. At the sight of the amount of game he caught, his eyes widened as he counter the amount of hunt draped across the horse’s back— a small boar, a few rabbits, some birds.

But then, the wagon appeared behind him. From afar, he could see some of the spoils resting atop of something and his pulse spiked as the massive form of a bear came into view. The creature’s body was draped over the wagon like a conquered king, its fur matted with the blood of the hunt. The servants around him gasped in disbelief, their cheers rising into the air as the significance of the kill hit them.

A bear, one of the most dangerous creatures in the wild, had been slain. Just like the prince had promised. But what shook Beomgyu to his core wasn’t just the sight of the animal—it was the realization that Yeonjun wasn’t with Soobin. He hadn’t arrived.

The cheers continued but Beomgyu’s stomach twisted, his hands growing clammy as he looked back down the road.

"Where is the crown prince?" he murmured to himself, the question tumbling from his lips. Was something wrong? Had something happened to him out there?

The sound of hooves struck the ground once more and Beomgyu’s eyes snapped back to the horizon. There emerging from the distance was Yeonjun.

He was riding in with a commanding presence, his posture upright, and as he approached Beomgyu felt an even more worrying amount of relief filling his veins as he realized both the princes were alive and back.

Yeonjun’s horse held a deer, birds, and even more rabbits. Without a doubt, House of Choi had won the hunt but at what cost? The two look absolutely battered. Yeonjun’s eyes finally locked onto Beomgyu’s and the omega felt his heart skip a beat as the prince gave him the faintest of nods, the ruby necklace hanging low onto his neck as it gleamed in the light.

As the prince dismounted and the wagon was unloaded, the cheers grew louder still. The crowd surged forward, eager to claim their share of the glory. But Beomgyu stood still, his eyes never leaving the alpha’s form.

He watched as Soobin and Yeonjun exchanged a few words with the other nobles, their voices prideful and yet humble. The bear, massive and heavy, lay in the wagon and he saw how the other servants struggled to carry it out. Truly it was a triumph all of House Choi celebrated but to Beomgyu, he found himself caring more that they were unharmed.

And even more, he felt his heart thud in his chest as he watched Yeonjun excuse himself and makes his way towards him, the crowd’s cheers faded into the background as the prince neared.

"I told you I’d get you a bear," The alpha’s voice broke through the haze of his thoughts, calm and certain, with a touch of teasing in his tone.

Beomgyu, still in awe, could only shake his head, his breath catching in his throat. His heart swelled with a mixture of disbelief and something that he wasn’t quite ready to name. But even more so, just hearing the sound of the prince’s voice made something in him relax, every inch of his worries, his anxieties disappearing.

Before he could find the right words to express his surprise, Yeonjun grabbed his arm and pulled him in closer than ever.

For a moment, he forgot that he had a large swirling mirage of purple and blue on his face and it was beyond noticeable. The alpha’s eyes focused on the patch of bruising on his face and before he could protest or offer any kind of excuse, the prince’s hand was on his chin, turning his face gently so that their gazes locked.

"What happened to you?" Yeonjun’s voice was soft, but there was an undeniable worry to it.

The brown haired male felt his heart skip a beat, the pressure of the prince’s hand on his chin made the wound on his cheek throb, but it wasn’t the pain that throbbed, it was the way Yeonjun seemed to peel away at his defenses.

He hesitated. He was afraid to tell the truth, that he hit another servant and got into a fight. He knew the prince would find out soon enough but the lie was already on the tip of his tongue.

"I fell while it was raining," Beomgyu lied, "I hit my face on some wooden steps."

It was a plausible story, one that could be accepted, and yet there was a quiet tension in the air. Yeonjun didn’t make a face or react with skepticism but his silence spoke volumes.

He simply hummed, his eyes still locked onto Beomgyu’s face, his thumb brushing lightly against the soft skin of the omega’s jaw.

"You better be careful.” He murmured, his voice low and the words struck Beomgyu straight in the chest.

The prince’s concern felt genuine but there was something else in his expression—a kind of warning, as if he could see through the facade and knew that something wasn’t right.

The warmth of his touch lingered on Beomgyu’s skin and despite the disquiet that churned in his stomach, he found himself unwilling to move away. The proximity held him in place as if the world around them had fallen silent just for them.

"Come," The prince said, his hand dropping from Beomgyu’s chin as he stepped back slightly, his voice shifting to one of quiet command, "They have already taken the hunt for the feast."

Beomgyu blinked, shaking himself from his trance-like state. The feast. The day was drawing to a close, and the time had come to celebrate the successful hunt. He nodded, though a lingering part of him longed to just stay in this moment with him, the touch of his hand on his face still warm. But now was not the time.

The feast awaited and so without another word, he followed Yeonjun.

The grand dining hall of the encampment was alive with celebration.

Silk banners bearing the sigils of noble houses at the end of long tables that had an array of delicacies. Some of the food was already prepped, but the main courses would be the hunt just caught. As tradition dictated, the nobles consumed what they had hunted right when they arrived from earlier that day.

The feast celebrated not only the skill of the hunters but the unity of the houses that had come together for this event.

At the head of the table sat the two princes, Yeonjun and Soobin, their presence commanding attention. Beomgyu lingered near the side, blending among the lower-ranked attendants who were permitted to dine.

His position offered him a clear view of the head table, where his eyes instinctively sought Yeonjun. The prince exuded a quiet regality, even in repose, and his eyes traced the slope of the alpha’s jaw and the way the light caught the strands of his dark hair.

It was only when a soft clearing of a throat drew his attention that Beomgyu noticed another figure seated near the princes. Lord Kang Taehyun, their cousin from House Kang, sat with a composed elegance that rivaled the princes themselves. And the omega quirked a brow in surprise.

Had he been so fixated on Yeonjun that he hadn’t even noticed Taehyun’s presence? The realization made his cheeks flush.

His eyes lingered too long again, it seemed, for Taehyun caught his eye. The nobleman’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles and he offered a subtle bow of his head. Startled, he quickly returned the gesture and then he lowered his eyes to his plate.

He dug into the food before him, the rich flavors bursting on his tongue—better than anything he had tasted in months. Freshly hunted game, prepared to perfection was a luxury he hadn’t experienced in far too long.

The joyful atmosphere began to settle into him but the moment of peace was short-lived.

Across the table, he accidentally locked eyes with Dowon’s and an uneasy chill coursed through him. Dowon’s expression was unreadable, but the way his face shifted toward one of the nobles, a broad-shouldered man seated farther down the table, set Beomgyu on edge.

He felt his stomach tighten, bruise aching, as Dowon rose from his seat and approached Lord Park Changmin of House Park, a prominent alpha who had participated in the hunt.

Beomgyu’s instincts screamed at him to prepare for what was to come, his hand subtly sliding from his utensils as he braced himself.

It happened quickly.

Lord Park’s face twisted with anger as Dowon whispered something to him. The noble slammed his goblet onto the table and rose to his feet, his voice booming over the murmurs of the crowd.

"You insolent omega—" Lord Changmin’s voice rang out, venom lacing every word as he stormed towards him. The hall fell silent, all eyes turning to witness the confrontation.

He barely had time to flinch before the noble’s hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking his head back.

The sudden, sharp pain forced a whine from Beomgyu’s throat, a sound that only fueled the fury.

"You dare strike one of my alphas?" Lord Changmin growled, his voice thick with indignation. His hand raised, poised to deliver a blow that the omega instinctively braced for but the strike never came.

A sharp thud echoed through the hall as Lord Changmin stumbled backward, crashing to the ground. The scent of cedarwood and cinnamon filled the air, rich and overpowering, laced with the unmistakable flare of an enraged alpha.

Yeonjun stood between them, his eyes dark with fury, his jaw clenched tight.

"And you dare put your hands on someone from the House of Choi?" Yeonjun’s voice was a deadly calm, the kind that sent chills down everyone’s spine.

His alpha presence was suffocating, a force that made even the boldest nobles shrink back.

Lord Changmin scrambled to his feet, his face twisted in outrage, "You— you would defend a bastard omega who picks fights with one of my alpha servants?"

Yeonjun’s eyes flicked down to Beomgyu, who averted meeting his look, his heart hammering against his ribs.

The noble of House Park sneered and gestured towards him, "Look at him! He won’t even admit he’s wrong, that shameful omega."

Yeonjun didn’t hesitate. With a swift kick, he sent the noble sprawling to the ground once more. The crowd gasped, whispers spreading like wildfire as the prince stepped closer, his voice a low growl,

"What my omega does is none of your concern. Perhaps that filthy alpha of yours deserved it."

And Beomgyu felt his heart pick up twice in speed at the words. My omega, the words filling up his mind over and over and over.

The hall was silent as Yeonjun turned to address the room, "And if anyone here dares to trouble a person wearing this crest," he declared, his voice ringing with authority, "do not be surprised when you face the consequences of your actions."

His gaze snapped back to the noble who cowered under the intensity of Yeonjun’s stare. "This is your warning, Changmin. Lay a hand on him again and I will ensure you lose the hand that dared touch him."

Then Lord hangmin scrambled away, his face pale, his pride shattered. The scent of fear clung to him as he retreated, a pup with his tail between his legs.

Then the alpha turned back to Beomgyu, his expression unreadable, “And you…you have much to explain later," he said leaving no room for argument.

Without waiting for a response, he strode back to his seat, motioning for the musicians to resume their playing.

The lively notes of the gayageum filled the hall once more but the tension lingered, the echoes of Yeonjun’s fury etched into the minds of all who had witnessed it.

Beomgyu remained frozen in place, his cheeks burning with a mixture of shame and awe. The prince had defended him—boldly, publicly, fiercely. And yet, Beomgyu couldn’t shake the unease that stirred within him, knowing that the explanations the prince demanded would not be easily given.

Looking up, he look back at Lord Kang Taehyun who stared too in awe and once they made eye contact, he quickly averted it this time instead of offering the bow and smile from before. Embarrassed, he went back to eating but the tumble in his chest was not to be soothed soon.

———

The moon hung high in the night sky, a pale silver glow lulling the ground.

Beomgyu found himself standing before Yeonjun’s chamber door once again, a now-familiar sensation of dread pooling in his stomach.

How many times had he stood outside the alpha’s door, heart racing, stomach knotted with guilt or uncertainty? Too many. But tonight was different. Tonight, he had lied, straight to the prince’s face and for that, he felt he truly deserved whatever awaited him.

He raised a hesitant hand to knock, but before his knuckles could meet the wood, the door swung open. Beomgyu blinked in surprise, meeting the sharp, expectant eyes of Yeonjun, who stood in the doorway clad in a silk black robe and the ruby necklace hanging on his neck.

"My prince, I—" He began, his voice tight with apology but the alpha cut him off with a curt gesture.

"Follow me," the prince said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode down the corridor, the soft rustle of his robes the only sound in the stillness.

Beomgyu swallowed hard, nodding even though the male wasn’t looking, and fell into step behind him. The quiet was oppressive, the tension between them palpable.

The path Yeonjun led them on was unfamiliar, winding through a secluded section of the palace. Beomgyu couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder now and then, as though expecting someone to emerge from the shadows and question their presence.

At last, they came to a stop before a modest wooden door tucked into the stone wall. Yeonjun pushed it open without hesitation and Beomgyu followed him inside.

The room was dimly lit by a single lantern hanging from the ceiling. Beyond it, through a small archway, lay another path illuminated by the glow of moonlight. The sound of gently bubbling water reached Beomgyu’s ears, and his brow furrowed in confusion as they stepped outside.

A hot spring? Beomgyu blinked, taking in the sight before him. The steam rising from the water created a hazy, dreamlike effect and the area was enclosed by tall bamboo stalks, offering privacy and an air of serenity.

Yeonjun then began to undo the sash of his robe without a word, his movements unbothered as the expanse of his chest bared in the night.

The fabric slipped from his shoulders with a soft rustle. His skin caught the faint light, each hardened line of muscle illuminated in a way that seemed almost unfair. There were a few scratches, bruises on his skin, most likely from the days of the hunt. But other than that, the alpha was impeccably in shape, strong and broad as ever.

Beomgyu’s gaze darted away, his face burning as he turned his back quickly, fumbling for his words.

"M-my prince!" His voice out, "What are you doing? Are we not here to… to talk?"

"We are." The alpha replied as he stepped into the water without pause. And for some reason tge soft splash seemed impossibly loud to Beomgyu’s ears,

"But I figured we could talk here, I’d been dreaming of this hot spring the entire hunt."

A moment of silence passed in a few beats before Yeonjun spoke once more, “Are you going to get in now?”

Beomgyu’s head snapped back around, his wide eyes locking onto the prince, who was now standing waist-deep in the spring.

The water clung to his skin, rivulets cascading down his chest as he pushed his hair back from his face with a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

"What?" The omega spluttered, voice high with disbelief.

Yeonjun arched a brow, his expression calm but his gaze piercing,

"You heard me. Or do I need to repeat myself?" He tilted his head slightly, the amusement in his tone doing nothing to soften the command beneath it,

"The water will do you good. You’re tense and it might even soothe the wounds you so foolishly tried to hide from me."

Beomgyu opened his mouth to protest but found his throat dry. His mind raced, grasping for an argument, but all he could manage was, "But there’s only one spring."

The alpha hummed softly, a sound that sent an inexplicable shiver down Beomgyu’s spine, 

"That’s true. It simply means we’ll share it. Unless," he added, his eyes narrowing slightly, "you’d rather refuse your prince’s generosity?"

Beomgyu’s lips parted, but no words came out. The weight of the prince’s presence pressed down on him, a heady blend of authority and something else, something deeper, more primal, that set every nerve in his body alight. His instincts screamed at him to lower his head and obey, but his pride warred against it, keeping him rooted in place.

"I… I don’t think…" He stammered, his voice trailing off as the alpha stepped closer, the water rippling around him.

"Don’t think," The prince’s voice dropping to a low murmur, "Just trust me."

Beomgyu’s breath hitched at the words, trust, his omega instincts stirring under the dominance in his tone. His hands trembled as he reached for the hem of jeogori, his movements hesitant and jerky.

He could feel Yeonjun watching him, his attention felt like a physical touch, brushing against his skin and making his heart pound harder. Even worse, he was not prepared for Yeonjun to see what lay beneath.

Although he has the face and frame of a regular man, his parts were not, and the scars of his skin betrayed his almost feminine look.

“Don’t be shy, Beomgyu,” The alpha then scoffed, “I have seen omegas naked before.”

The words struck a chord that reverberated through Beomgyu's chest. He clenched his jaw, every muscle in his body coiled tight. If Yeonjun wanted to push, then Beomgyu would push back.

His heart pounded as he straightened his spine, lifting his chin as he turned to face the prince fully, "You want me to undress?" he jeered despite the way his pulse thrummed in his ears, "Fine."

Before he could second-guess himself, Beomgyu’s hands moved to the hem of his jeogori, his movements deliberate, almost aggressive. Each layer fell away with a quiet rustle, the fabric slipping from his shoulders and baring his skin inch by inch to the moonlight.

There was no hesitation in his movements now, no faltering. He was sick of the tension, sick of the unanswered questions and unspoken words that had festered between them for far too long.

If Yeonjun wanted to talk, then they would talk. And if this was the price of honesty, then so be it.

Beomgyu’s eyes burned not leaving the alpha’s gaze, his chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths as he let the last of his clothing drop to the ground.

The cool night air kissed his bare skin, sending a shiver down his spine. The omega could feel the prince examine his every being, his gaze burning into his body as it swept over him, taking in every curve of his body, the fullness of his hips, the pink of his hardened nipple, the folds between his legs.

But Beomgyu didn’t care. Let him look. He thought to himself, Let him see everything.  

It was impossible to miss the way the prince’s expression flickered, eyes dilating, and lips parting. And then there how he faltered when his eyes lingered on the jagged scars that ran along Beomgyu’s side and lower back, and the big, purple bruise that was forming on his stomach. His jaw clenched, but no words came out, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.

The thick fog of the hot spring muddled their scents, but he could still taste the tang of the heavy cedar and cinnamon on his tongue, and he is sure the alpha could feel the spike of his own honey and orange blossom within the fog.

Beomgy then stepped forward into the steaming water.

"Don’t stare," He muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness as he stepped deeper into the water, "It isn’t quite nice."

Yeonjun didn’t respond immediately, his gaze still fixed on the omega as if he were trying to decipher a paradox. Then, slowly, the prince turned away, lowering himself further into the spring with a quiet sigh.

They sat across from each other, the steaming water a fragile barrier between them.

The prince was rattled, that much was clear. Then Beomgyu sank down until the water reached his chest, the heat soothing his bruised muscles even as his nerves remained on edge.

The silence stretched and Beomgyu’s heart pounded, but it wasn’t fear driving it now. It was something else, something sharper and more resolute. He let the heat of the water, the sharp tang of the minerals, and the heady scent of the bamboo anchor him as he leaned back slightly, his posture deceptively calm despite the storm raging inside him.

He wouldn’t leave this night the same as he’d entered it. He wouldn’t let the questions clawing at his mind go unanswered.

If Yeonjun wanted to talk like this, then Beomgyu would ensure this conversation was the one that mattered. The one where truths were laid bare, where the simmering tension between them would finally boil over into clarity—whatever form that might take.

He tilted his head slightly, his voice smooth and low, carrying just the faintest edge of challenge,

"Let’s talk, shall we, my prince?"