memoir of a nuisance

For Beomgyu, a father was nothing more than a word.

And he had never spoken the word with meaning, never felt the shape of it on his tongue as something tangible and real. He has never known the feeling of a father’s hand upon his shoulder, never had his name spoken with pride from the lips of a man who claimed him as his own.

Instead, he has only known the absence of one.

That absence had been his only birthright that followed him through every stage of his life. It sat in the spaces beside him as a child, when other boys clung to their fathers’ robes and toddled in their footsteps. It rang in the silences left where guidance should have been. 

It wove itself into his every interaction, shaping the way people saw him—not as an omega, not as a son, but as a mistake. A thing born from shame and a life that should not have existed. And he knew this was true from the way people told him.

His mother had told him as much in the way she never looked at him for too long. The queen and king had told him in their silence at the view times he had allowed himself to ask of the man. The crown prince had told him in words themselves, teasing and reminding that he was nothing but a bastard with no father.

And so Beomgyu had learned to live and taught himself not to wonder. Because to wonder would be to invite pain and to carve open a wound that could never heal. He had closed that door long ago, sealed it with quiet acceptance.

He had no father and he certainly would never gain one.

But now that certainty has been shattered.

"You look just like your father, like my dear Hayoon."

The king had been sick and delirious as he said those words. And yet, there had been such clarity in his voice when he said it, a pain that it had seized Beomgyu by the throat. That was not the sorrow of a man speaking empty words. That was the sorrow of a man confessing something that had long been buried within him until he could no longer hold it in.

And Beomgyu had felt it.

Felt something crack inside of him, something that had always been there, waiting for the right moment to make itself known.

If it were true, if Hayoon had truly been his father, then what did that make Beomgyu? What did that make everything he had ever known? Had his entire life been built upon a lie? Had they all known—had the queen known? Had Yeonjun? While he, the fool, lived oblivious to the truth?

He could not understand it. Did not know how to understand it. The very foundation of his existence had shifted by just a few words, and he could do nothing but stumble, grasping blindly for something, anything, that felt real.

And so, he did the only thing he could.

He ran.

Past the heavy wooden doors of the palace that had never truly been a home to him. Past the guards who barely spared him a glance, past the servants who had long since stopped questioning him. He walked, even as his chest tightened with something dangerous.

He ran towards the one person who could give him the truth.

Towards the woman who had once told him to never seek her again. The woman who had sent him away with nothing but a name that did not belong to him and the burden of a past he had never been allowed to understand.

But he felt this resolve, to force it. To force his mother, for the first time in his life, to listen to him, and most of all, answer him.

———

The infirmary smelled of sickness, a scent he was used to but hated. Beomgyu stood just inside the door, the faint sound of his breath was the only sound in the room until the woman before him stirred.

Her head lifted from the bed where she lay, propped up by a pillow. The moment she saw him, her expression changed. Eyes widening, lips parting as repulsion crossed her face and she turned sharply, as though unwilling to even acknowledge his presence.

The silence felt oppressive but Beomgyu refused to let it affect him. He stepped forward, he would not let her turn away this time. He had spent his entire life complacent in her coldness and her rejection, and today, it would end.

She broke the silence first, "I told you... I told you never to come to me again," Her brittle voice only proved just how sick she was.

But Beomgyu did not care. 

He did not care that she was barely able to speak, did not care what insults she wanted to say, not anymore. His lips pressed into a thin line and he could feel was the pounding of his mind and as he spoke, his voice carried a fury that he had never felt before, 

"I will give you one chance only, mother," he breathed out, "And if you lie to me, I swear to you...you will regret it." 

His fists clenched at his sides and he felt the words in his throat, begging to be let out. And so he did, "Who is my father?"

The look on her face as he said those words must have mirrored the one he had when the king had spoken to him.

Maybe it was the way he said it, with such determination and emotion that startled her. And the look in her eyes which turned almost hostile told him she would try to avoid it, that she would twist this truth into something else entirely.

She scowled as she sat up, "You're still caught on that, are you? Twenty years old and yet still so childish.”

Her voice sounded bleak, “Beomgyu, you know you have no father. He was nothing but a drunken mistake. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Before he knew what he was doing, he was moving as the force of his anger propelled him forward. He stood above her, towering and looking straight into her eyes where he saw nothing but the reflection of his own emotions,

"Hayoon." 

The sound of the name falling from his lips tasted bitter and sweet all at once. Her eyes widened and she recoiled, as if he had struck her but Beomgyu did not stop. 

"Tell me now, mother," he demanded while taking a step forward, "Tell me if that man is my father, and do not think of lying to me anymore."

Her face paled further and it was the first time in all his years that he witnessed fear in this cold woman.

“How do you know that?" she whispered, her voice breaking.

And in that moment, the ground beneath seemed to crumble. 

All of his fears from when he had originally heard the words, now hit him ten-fold. Then came a disbelief that gripped him so hard he felt he would disappear because of it. He took a step back, staggering as the truth hit him, 

"You knew," he whispered so quietly he wasn’t even sure he said them, "You all knew, all this time and none of you ever thought to tell me?"

“Beomgyu,” she scoffed as the fear turned back into the same coldness he had always known,

“It is not your place to know. You do not understand and you will never be able to understand.”

“Then tell me!” he roared, the need to grasp at the entire truth overwhelmed him like nothing before.

He had never felt such fury and despair boiling within and seeing how his mother just stared at him with shock, as if she did nothing wrong only worsened it.

He reached out and gripped her arms, the first time he has ever touched her since she got sick and he shook her slightly, “Tell me the truth, tell me why you’ve lied to me, why you’ve kept me in the dark. You—” 

“He is your father, yes!” His mother interrupted with a shout, flailing under his grasp.

Then there was a momentary break, “But it does not matter, Beomgyu. It will never matter, he is long dead. He died knowing I was pregnant with you and if he knew what I had given birth to, he would have wished I never carried you at all.”

And the words made his grasp only tighten, even if this moment now, as her only son begged to know a truth that defined his whole life, his mother remained as venomous as ever. He couldn’t even argue back before she continued, losing herself in her own rage now, 

“You are nothing but an omega, Beomgyu. And no matter how hard you fight it, no matter how much you want to be more, you are nothing but that. Nothing but a cursed omega.”

This time, it was not sadness that blurred his sight, it was pure ardor. Hot, bitter tears fell down his face and he couldn’t stop them. He didn’t even want to.

“Do not dare,” he gritted out, “Do not dare to blame me. What I am has nothing to do with this.”

Her face twisted into a condescending smirk, “Oh, really? Do you think your father would have wanted you? Do you think he would have wanted a male omega, especially one like you, to carry his name and to claim his legacy?”

“And what if he did?” Beomgyu argued back, not believing that his own father could have been so unaccepting like his own mother.

“You naive fool.” She hissed loudly, “Even if he did, do you think the council or the military would have ever accepted a male omega as the heir to the great Hayoon either?” 

Her eyes then flashed with agony as she ripped down her dress, baring her neck to where he saw a gnarly scar that could only mean one thing,

“I could not even tell anyone about our love or about how we mated. I was a poor handmaiden and he was the most powerful general in the east. Do you understand what that meant?”

The sight of the mating scar crushed him and the reality of it all made it worse. But here was something more that twisted the knife inside him. It wasn’t just what she said, it was how much it mirrored his own feelings toward Yeonjun and the shame he felt for loving someone he could never have. 

And even worse, he could not deny how realistic her line of thinking was. His mother was logical, more so than he. But even then, he felt hurt that his mother never even gave it a chance, to persuade those and will her way into her mate’s inheritance as she birthed his only son. 

Suddenly, his room felt impossibly small and he let go of her. All he could hear was the pounding of his own heartbeat, 

“You,” his voice faltered but he pressed on, “You never even tried. You never tried to claim him or fight for us. I know King Hyunseok knew of you two, most likely the queen did too. And still with their backing, you did not do anything.”

At the words, he saw how his mother became red, perhaps riddled in her own shame,

“Everybody was gambling on the hope that you would have been an alpha, it did not matter whether I tried or not.” she argued, “If you had been an alpha maybe, just maybe, we could have been well off. But—” 

“But I am your son!” Beomgyu cried out, every emotion and feeling taking control of his voice. 

The more she spoke, the more he was reminded of the little boy within him, the one who begged to be seen and held, the one who still loved his mother despite her harsh words and slaps, the one who only ever wanted to be loved.

And he felt that little boy within him die a little more each passing moment. 

He continued, “I am your only son and the son of the man you loved. And yet—” His breath hitched and the next words came out of his mouth so achingly quiet yet resounding with a raw pain that it even hurt to admit,

“You never even tried to love me, mother. Not even once.”

She recoiled at his words, “Do not dare and shame me, Beomgyu. You do not know what it is like to look at a face and be reminded of your biggest regret. I do not owe you love, you took that away from me.”

And to this, he could not find it in him to respond. 

He could only stare down at her, watching how his tears fell on her skin and as the wrath in her lit up in flames by the second. In that moment, he realized that his mother, who had always been so cruel and unloving, would only continue to prove just how deep her hatred for him ran.

And then, for the first time in his life, Beomgyu saw her as she truly was—an apathetic woman who had mercilessly bent the world around him in her own vindictive malice.

“That is not my fault, in fact, none of this is, and yet you still find a way to blame me for something I cannot change.” he laughed humorlessly. 

His tears had dried up and he found it impossible to continue crying. The next words that tumbled out of his mouth so quietly, came from the deepest part of his soul, where all his trauma resides, and he felt it to be the most sincere thing he has ever said to her.

“I hope when you die, which will be soon by the look of it, I hope that father does not run to you.”

And he spoke so coldly that he felt as if he was turning into her yet he continued,

“I hope, when you meet him again, that he looks at you and sees what you truly are. For everything you’ve done to me and for everything you’ve taken from me, his only—”

And Beomgyu felt his voice die out, breaking at the very words but he needed to say them,

“Your only son.”

The silence that followed was deafening and his mother could only stare back with those same devoid eyes but this time, there was an unease in them as if the words were shattering her.

She was sick, had been for years, and her illness had only worsened. You could tell by her sunken cheeks, thin hair, and desolate, pale face. And she seemed to have no words to what her only son had said to him.

Beomgyu then turned and walked to the door. He paused just before exiting and spoke with his back to her,

“Goodbye, mother. Do not worry about being reminded of your regrets ever again. I will make sure that we will never see eachother again.”

And with that, he left, holding nothing but the remnants of the life he used to know, a life that had now been crushed and broken down, dissipating at the seams.

———

A bastard, that is one of the words that has defined his every being, a bastard omega.

Since he came into this world, sprouting of honey and orange, bleeding into a small bud, those were the words that have haunted him. They attached themselves to his skin and imprinted their influence in the mind of everyone who knew him. 

Even now, as Beomgyu walks the courts and hallways of the palace, he can feel the ever thrumming beat of those words down on his body. But, this time, the feeling those words bring does not make him upset. It does not make him indifferent. 

No, this time, those words bring about a new feeling that Beomgyu has not ever felt: deception. 

It rang clearly to him now that his entire life, he had been deceived by those around him. King Hyunseok, Queen Eunyoung, his own mother—and who knows who else.

He was never a bastard, not truly. His mother said it herself, she and Hayoon had bonded. Although no one had ever mentioned a marriage or anything, just being mated itself is enough to legitimize the birth of a child. 

And they were mated, bit into the napes of each other's skin, and unified their souls completely in secret from the public. He had never seen the mark on his mother, but she showed it to him so boldly and the image of it is seared into his mind, proof of a father he had never met.

Since then, Beomgyu felt a paranoia within, of the things he did not know, of what else may be hidden from him. And even worse, the need to know more.  

But the universe in all its cruelty had other plans.

The following day, after the king had whispered to him the truth of his father and confronting the sins of his mother, King Hyunseok died.

He died before the sun rose, in the quietude of the night and alone in his own sickness. 

Junsu had been the one to discover him and the one to relay the news to the attendants and to the royal family on the palace grounds. Beomgyu watched as the princes and princesses walked into his chambers, tears streaming down their tired faces. 

He could hear from outside the door of how hard they cried and wailed their prayers. Soobin, being the eldest since Yeonjun was gone, stood there and watched over them, soothed them.

And the alpha did not cry, no, for the hours they spent alongside his body in that room, he did not hear the prince cry.

It wasn’t until all his younger siblings had left, until it was no one but him and his father, that Beomgyu finally heard the prince royal shed his tears. 

And when Soobin left the quarters, Beomgyu did the one thing he had never done with any of the royals besides the queen, and gave the alpha a hug, a shoulder to lie on and someone to soothe him instead.

The death of a king is a mournful time, even as the weather warms and the skies clear. And the death of a king that was quite benevolent, intensely revered and respected, well, the kingdom could only cry for him. 

When the news broke, sounded by the ring of four grand bells, Beomgyu could feel the energy shift in the land.

That week, he did not get a letter from Yeonjun, but he did send one out regardless. He knew this news would be devastating to both him and the queen, so he did his best to be as comforting as he could.

It was but a few days away from March, and spring was just over the horizon. Yeonjun would soon be done with his journey, but as tradition states, whenever the king dies, there is a formal procession. 

The immediate members of the house that rules, of his offspring, and living family must all gather to a resting place deep within the mountains. It is said those mountains run the rivers, grow the trees, feed the animals that the first king had drank from, ate from, lived from. And it is where he is buried, and every monarch after him was buried there too.

As February came to an end, so did the rule and legacy of King Hyunseok. 

Beomgyu could not go to the procession, but he watched at how Prince Soobin rode, high and mighty, on a white horse, leading on the carriage that held the body of his father. And behind it, the rest of his children followed. 

They rode down a street filled with white and red flowers, of people crying and praying for their passed king, and in a way it was beautiful—the honoring of one’s death and the path they paved for him to ascend.

It was then that Beomgyu cried. Quietly and sorrow filled, and he cried and cried and cried.

King Hyunseok was a great king, a guiding father, and a man he respected.

But what is worse is that Beomgyu felt he did not truly know him, not until now. Not until the alpha was sick and dying, whispering and talking to him in a way he had never associated with him before. Not until he was harping away secrets that he had held in for so long, ones that altered the omega’s very life. 

And he felt the loss of the king was also the loss of a life he could have been told about, of someone that could have told him everything he yearned to know. 

He did not have much time to process his own grief though. 

After they left, the palace now had to prepare themselves for a certain incoming alpha and the kingdom itself felt as though it was preparing for a new chapter; the ascension of the Crown Prince Yeonjun. 

When the king was sick, he stayed in certain quarters within the Palace of the Monarch that all kings lay in when they were sick, for it is close to where a royal physician could come into. 

The servants and attendants made sure to carefully seal away and pack everything that belonged to King Hyunseok into a sealed away chamber, underneath. Queen Eunyoung will decide what to do with that when it is time.

And, as Yeonjun’s personal servant, Beomgyu was head of transferring and preparing the Palace of the Monarch for him.

Lady Jangmi helped alongside him and they oversaw the whole transition. The Palace of the Crown Prince, too, was being prepared for a new occupant. It was assumed Soobin would take residence there, though it had not yet been officially decided. Not that it mattered. 

Because by summer, Yeonjun would be married, and with marriage came the expectation of an heir. 

The people had already begun murmuring about it, speculation running rampant about the noble alphas and omegas who might be chosen for the mating ceremony, the future mating bond that would be formed, and the bloodline that would be continued. 

Soon, there would be a child. A child who would be first in line to inherit the throne, one who would be cherished, protected, revered. And most of all, a child that would not be his.

And the thought of that killed him inside.

Currently, he was in the main chambers in the Palace of the Monarch.

Beomgyu’s hands trembled as he smoothed out the silk sheets on the bed that would soon belong to Yeonjun. The fabric felt heavy under his fingers, hell, the entire room felt as if it was suffocating him.

He could hear Lady Jangmi’s voice in the distance, directing servants to polish the silver and dust away, but her words blurred into his ears. All he could focus on was the ache in his chest, the gnawing emptiness that seemed to grow with every passing moment.

He stepped back, his eyes scanning the room. It was fit for a king—no, it was fit for Yeonjun. 

Yeonjun, who would soon be crowned. Yeonjun, who would soon be married. Yeonjun, who would have his own family. Those three sentences repeated in his mind like a mantra and Beomgyu pressed a hand to his mouth, willing himself not to throw up. 

He couldn’t afford to break down, not here, not when the palace was so eager to celebrate the ascension of their future king. 

But how could they not see it? How could they not see the way his heart was shattering into a thousand irreparable pieces? If anyone were to walk in, they would smell the pure agony in his scent and would know what that meant.

It meant that Yeonjun was everything to him and, in the truth of it all, he was nothing to Yeonjun. 

At least, not in the way that realistically mattered. 

He was someone who would be set free once the alpha took the throne. And yet the thought of freedom filled him with a dread so profound it made his knees weak. Because freedom meant leaving the prince behind, it meant watching from afar as he built a life with someone else, a life where he no longer existed.

Beomgyu’s fingers curled into fists as the self-hatred poured over him. He hated himself for feeling this way, for the distaste he had for the one thing any servant could wish for. He hated himself for the jealousy that burned in his veins, for the selfish desire that clawed at his insides. 

He wanted Yeonjun. 

He wanted him more than anything in this world, in all ways he could never have, in ways that defied reason and dignity. He wanted to be the one at his side, the one he loved, the one who bore his mark, the one who carried his child. He wanted it so badly it made him sick.

But he could never have him. 

And the knowledge of the inevitable was like a knife twisting in his gut.

He could not even think of the possibility of marrying Yeonjun or having his children. Everytime he did, Beomgyou could only think of his mother.

She had been a handmaiden, a servant just like him, and she had loved a man she could never truly have, just like him. He had been her alpha, her mate, but their bond had been a secret. Beomgyu had been the product of that forbidden love and he has lived a life more cruel than anything.

If he and Yeonjun ever became anything, he too would have to hide their child away because in the eyes of society, Beomgyu was nothing more but a poor, bastard omega.

At the thought of it, his chest tightened with a grief so raw it stole his breath. No, he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t bring a child into this world only to condemn them to the same life he had lived.

With the exception of Queen Eunyoung and his mother, only he knew though that he was no bastard, that he was the son of the greatest general to have ever lived. His blood ran pure, and if his mother had even tried to claim them, they could have lived a life of opulence and nobility.

But she did not try, and the king and queen did nothing either, and this was the reality of his life now. 

And there was no way to change it. 

The sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts, and he turned to see Lady Jangmi standing in the doorway, 

“Beomgyu,” she called out gently, “the preparations are almost complete. You should rest. You’ve been working tirelessly.”

He nodded, “I will, Lady Jangmi. I’ll rest soon enough.”

But he knew he wouldn’t. 

How could he rest when every moment felt like a countdown to the end of everything he had ever known? The thought of Yeonjun’s arrival filled him with equal parts longing and despair due to this.

He turned back to the bed behind him, his fingers brushing against the silk once more.

This would be Yeonjun’s bed, a place he would share with his mate, the bed where he would conceive his heir. The thought made Beomgyu’s stomach churn, and he quickly stepped away, his hands trembling at his sides.

He couldn’t do this. 

Beomgyu turned on his foot and ran out, and as he left the room, his own sorrow pressed down on him as if it was threatening to crush him. 

The palace glowed in the promise of a new era, but all Beomgyu could feel was the void of what he had lost or rather, what he had never truly had. Yeonjun would arrive in the following days and with him would come the beginning of the end. 

And Beomgyu would have to find a way to survive it, even if it killed him.

———

The days in March stretched slowly, the weather easing into the breeze of spring. 

Life smelled of budding flowers and freshly turned earth. There was a stillness to the days but Beomgyu tried his best to go about his work. Most evenings, after his tasks were done, Beomgyu would make his way to the physician's quarters.

There, he was met by Junsu, who had become both a mentor and a comfort in his otherwise chaotic life. 

Junsu had been patient, teaching Beomgyu not only the ways of a physician but also offering him wisdom in every small gesture and word.

His hands had grown familiar with the tools of healing and he learned how to handle each. His mind, too, had begun to expand, understanding the balance between the body and the spirit that Junsu always spoke of, the way every touch and action and thought mattered in the practice of medicine.

It was the one thing that kept him stable in this time, from distracting him of all his hurt and frustration within.

Back then, he had planned to go to the king again, to ask more of his father, to know more about all the ‘whys’ he wanted to ask. He did not want to believe his mother was right, he had a hope in him that the truth is not like what she claims to be. 

But the king was dead now and there was no one he could speak to about this, hopelessness filling within. He did not know what he was going to do when he saw the queen again either, did not know how to even start the conversation.

He did not know what he was going to do when he saw Yeonjun either, did not know if he could look at him long enough without thinking of the near future that lay for both of them.

But at the same time, as much as he was filled with dread at the thought, he also longed to see Yeonjun.

He wanted to be the first person that greeted him, that welcomed him. He thought of the moment they would finally reunite every morning, and of being the first person to lock eyes with him.

Every day he waited for a letter and then felt foolish when none would arrive, but regardless the need to still see him burned despite it all. And all these confusing emotions and conflicting thoughts pressed down on him without mercy. 

Junsu noticed this tension within and helped him meditate through it all and it honestly worked. Yet, it was not only Junsu who had left an impression on the omega during this time. 

Lord Huening Kai and his attendants had proven themselves to be different from the rest of the nobles Beomgyu had known. There was a warmth to them, something genuine in the way they treated him, not just as a mere, lowly omega, but as an equal. 

Huening Kai was very distant and quiet at first.

The conversations they had were never lingering or continuous. But slowly, the alpha had become a figure that Beomgyu admired. The alpha opened up over time, revealing a warmth to him and a wit that broke through the formal walls he had once kept so carefully intact.

It was in these moments that Beomgyu truly began to understand why Soobin had fallen for him.

Despite his reserved nature, Huening Kai was someone who could ignite a room with a smile, someone who made even the most difficult days seem lighter, just by his presence. Everything about him seemed to speak of someone who understood the complexities of the world yet remained unshaken by them. 

Not only that, but the alpha was good friends with Yeonjun and spoke of their friendship every now and then. For some reason, becoming close to someone who shared a bond with the crown prince made him somewhat satisfied. 

There was a rare sense of unity among those who had stood beside the king in his final days. They had remained close and it was a feeling of camaraderie that offered him comfort in this time where he felt like he no longer had anyone.

And in these fleeting days, as March carried on and the air began to carry whispers of Yeonjun’s return, Beomgyu felt the stirrings of something within himself that had been dormant, waiting for its time. 

What it was, he could not say yet but he could feel it growing, like the buds of flowers pushing their way through the earth, ready to bloom in the warmth of the coming days.

Currently, Beomgyu was in Junsu’s chambers that smelled faintly of incense and old parchment. 

They sat across a wooden table, and he listened as Junsu spoke of a healing herb that the omega had never heard of before. 

“What is it called again, Junsu?” Beomgyu asked, furrowing his brows, “And why is it so rare? I have never heard of it in the records or spoken of in the courts.”

“Brush up on your history, young one," he said with a wry smile. "A herb so old, it’s nearly forgotten by even the wisest in the kingdom. It’s called anantamul, the ‘eternal root.’ It's only found in one place, far beyond the reach of common travelers. In a southern land, where the cold winds forget to touch the earth.”

The words “brush up on your history, young one” stirred something deep in Beomgyu’s mind. He recalled a time long ago, a hallway full of paintings and history held within the walls of the treasury.

The Tiger of the East.

A memory rushed forward of how Junsu had spoken of that man in the halls of the royal treasury. Hayoon. The name echoed through his thoughts and he blinked rapidly. Hayoon. His father. The man who had been everything to his mother, the man whose blood now ran in Beomgyu’s veins. 

And he remembers how Junsu spoke of him, of how he knew him personally. Suddenly, the feeling to know more about him, the frustration he had tried hard to meditate away after the king’s death, came rushing back.

And with a trembling voice, Beomgyu could not help but deter the entire conversation, “Junsu, I must ask you something.”

The beta glanced at him as he set aside the small bundle of herbs he had been examining. He gave a slight nod, "Speak, my boy."

Beomgyu hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to frame his question. 

He had accepted the fact that he would never know more about his roots when the king died, he had found peace in the hopelessness since he knew there was no way he could ever bring it up to the queen.

But Junsu was no royal, Junsu was but a beta physician. 

And he had totally forgotten that Junsu was close to his father. He felt the surge of every question surged with urgency, a need to know more about the man who made him, the man his mother loved, the father he never knew.

He swallowed hard, choosing his words carefully.

"The Tiger of the East," Beomgyu began, "You once told me you knew him personally."

Junsu, who had been absently running a finger along the table, paused. His eyes met the omega’s and for the briefest moment, there was surprise there, "Why yes, I did." 

Beomgyu hesitated and he did not know why it felt so difficult to say the words, why they settled in his chest like stones in a riverbed.

But still, he pressed forward.

“The Tiger of the East... Hayoon, did he..." He faltered, feeling his fists clenched before steadying himself, "Did he... have any family? Any heirs?"

The question hung in the air and Junsu’s expression remained unchanged, his eyes fond but piercing as he studied Beomgyu. He did not appear shocked now nor did he seem caught off guard by the question. It was as if he had anticipated it.

After a long moment, he gave a soft sigh, "You already know the answer to that, do you not?"

Beomgyu’s heart tightened and his voice broke before he could contain it, "I feel like I am the only one who did not know," He whispered.

The old man only chuckled at this. It was a sound that felt older and wiser,

"Trust me, my boy, had everyone known of it, you would not be standing here before me now."

Beomgyu stood still, the meaning of the words lingering between them.

Then the old beta continued, "Only your mother, King Hyunseok, and Queen Eunyoung knew of this," Junsu added.

"And how do you know of this? Of who I am?" He asked quieter now.

The old man turned to face the omega more fully, "Who do you think helped your mother birth you into this world, boy?" 

He stood motionless for a heartbeat and the world around him seemed to blur, and his thoughts raced in every direction. 

If Junsu had been the one to deliver him into this world, then that must have meant that he knew more of his father and his mother’s relationship than he thought. If so, then he must know why the king and queen never decided to help his mother claim him, or if the reasoning his mother said were true.

"Look at you," Junsu’s voice cut through his thoughts and it was filled with fondness, "You resemble him in more ways than one."

The words were soothing and hurtful all at once. To think he was a living being who resembled someone he did not know, the thought of it pained him. And the questions ran through his mind, ones that with answers he hoped differed the ones his mother gave him.

Why had they never tried to claim him? Was it because he was an omega? Had they not cared enough to fight for him? Why had they left him to suffer alone alongside his mother’s cruelty?

But amidst all those thoughts, one question rose above all others, "What was he like... my father?"

He watched as Junsu’s eyes drifted past him, to something far beyond the chamber walls, to a time long past. 

"Hayoon, he was unlike any alpha I have ever met," The old man began with a quiet remembrance.

Beomgyu sat straighter, his hands tightening in his lap as he listened to the old man continue.

"I met him when he was just a boy, a year younger than you are now. He enlisted in the army with nothing but himself. No family and no name worth speaking of. No one knew where he came from." He exhaled,

"And yet, even then, with nothing to his name, he climbed the ranks and reached nobility. He became the most powerful man in the east. Feared, a warrior unlike any other."

Hearing that his father had once been just a boy, standing alone against the world and yet, he had risen. That he had fought and carved a place for himself where there had been none. A man of true honor and integrity. The thought of it made a strange sort of longing tightened Beomgyu’s throat. 

He had spent years believing that his existence was nothing more than an inconvenience to those who wished to forget him. If only everyone knew that the blood that ran through him came from a man of nobility, that he was no illegitimate bastard.

What would life be like if his father had lived? The question came to him quietly and imagining it made his throat swell and eyes sting.

"Then," Beomgyu asked, "was he always like that? A warrior?"

Junsu’s lips curved into something that was almost a smile, "No," he said simply.

"He was kind, Beomgyu. Much kinder than any maiden or child," The old man murmured,

"He had a reserved nature, rarely one for boastful words. But once you earned his trust, he was charming, clever in a way that made others feel stupid. Even with all those battles, all those years spent with blood on his hands, there was a peace to him that no one could steal away."

Beomgyu’s fingers curled against his pants. Peace… that was something he could never have imagined of a man who had been known as the fiercest warrior in the east.

He had thought his father would be like the stories, all cold, ruthless. But to hear that he had been kind and that he had carried warmth in his heart despite the battles he fought, it made him glad. 

"I was with him when he died, too." He let out a slow breath, his shoulders falling slightly, "Even then, he was still at peace."

The omega listened intently, the image of his father forming in his mind, though it seemed almost impossible to reconcile with the cruel, unforgiving world he had grown up in. A kind man, an alpha who had loved so deeply.

It was a foreign thought to him that a man like that was also his parent. Even more, he could not imagine a man like that falling in love with someone like his mother, someone who had been so hurtful to him.

"Tell me," Beomgyu then asked as he searched for answers, "Was my father... did he love my mother?"

Junsu faltered for a moment and he took a slow breath before answering, "Beyond anything I had ever seen. Your mother... she used to be bright, and just as clever. Hayoon fell head over heels for her the moment he laid eyes on her.” 

"He loved your mother deeply," he continued, "They were not like most. We all thought they were fools, but they did not care. When your mother became pregnant, they were happier than I have ever seen them. He would have given anything to protect her, and you."

Beomgyu’s heart clenched at the words, the person the beta described was a world defying contrast to the harsh image of his mother that he had grown up with. 

And yet, there was something in what Junsu said that made sense of everything he had never understood. He had never imagined that his mother had ever been capable of such joy and the thought of his father loving her so fiercely...only for it to all be taken away. 

He understood more why his mother became the way she was and it made something inside him break.

Tears welled in Beomgyu’s eyes, but he fought to keep them at bay,

"Then why... why did they allow my mother and I to suffer as we did? You and the king, the queen…you all knew I was his son. You all knew, yet you did nothing?"

Junsu sighed, guilt etched across his face,

"My boy, I wish we could have. The king wanted to help, but your mother... your mother was frightened. When you were born an omega, she was disappointed and lost all the hope she once had. And the king, the queen... they could not bear it either. No one wanted to claim you. No one believed it was worth the fight."

The truth of it all crushed his very heart and he felt the tears stream down. Of course, his mother was right. She was always right, wasn’t she? And Beomgyu felt like a fool for hoping any differently. 

Though he understood their reasoning, the pain was still unbearable. He was the son of a general, of a man who would have fought for him, and yet he had been abandoned, forgotten.  

And then he thought of what his mother had also told him, of how his father would have been disappointed if he knew his son was an omega.

And the need to know if that would be true increased. Junsu knew Hayoon well, if anyone knew the true, unbiased feelings of his father, it would be him,

"Junsu," He whispered, "Do you think my father would have accepted me? Would he have truly loved me if he had known I was an…omega?"

The old man’s features filled with affection, "You could have been born a mole rat and Hayoon would have still loved you. That was the type of man he was.” 

He continued, “He named you. He had already chosen your name before you were born. If it was a girl, he wanted Eunbyul. And if you were a boy, then he wanted Beomgyu. The character you spell your name, it means ‘tiger’, you know?  Even then, he knew it would be a fitting name for a son born out of love and strength."

The omega felt his breath catching at this revelation, the intentions and meaning that his father laid out for him, giving him a name full of care and love, an ode to his own title as the tiger of the east.

It made him happy to hear all of this, despite the tears that fell out of his eyes. Junsu’s tone softened as he stepped closer, his hand on Beomgyu’s shoulder,

"Hayoon would have loved you, boy. He would have fought for you, would have rained hell on this kingdom just to have you by his side."

The words sunk deep into his heart and for the first time in a while, he felt a sense of peace at the thought of his father, as if a part of him had finally been allowed to rest. 

The room felt smaller and Beomgyu felt something within him shift like the air itself was different now. He had a father, a man who would have loved him, would have fought for him. And somehow, just knowing that was enough for now.

For the first time in his life, his father was not just a weapon used against him, a taunt in his face or an insult to his every being. For the first time, his father was more than just a word, he was real.

Junsu then let out a long breath, his face growing serious and it made him instinctively straighten, as if bracing for something heavier still.

"You must keep all of this to yourself, Beomgyu," The old man said at last, "You cannot tell anyone, not even Prince Soobin or the crown prince."

Beomgyu blinked, taken aback. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him yet. To tell them, or even to tell Yeonjun. And yet, now that it had been spoken, the idea rooted itself in his mind.

What would Yeonjun think if he knew? That he was not just some nameless bastard, not a stain upon the court’s pristine order, but the son of the most legendary general in the East? That he had nobility running through his veins, an inheritance of fire and steel? 

In another life, one where his father had lived, would he have stood beside Yeonjun as an equal?

Would he have been raised in the palace alongside him, forming a friendship as Yeonjun had with Huening Kai and the other noble sons? Would they have laughed together without restraint, without the bitter knowledge that one of them would always have to kneel? Would he have been able to love the alpha freely without fear of being killed for it?

The thought of it made his insides ache. 

Beomgyu shook his head slightly, forcing the fantasy away. There was no use longing for a life that had never been his, no use in inviting in a sadness that he could not overcome.

Instead, he met Junsu’s gaze and replied, "Well, I wasn’t planning to, but…” He paused, letting his curiosity take control, “Why not? What would be the issue with it?"

The old man sighed, "Your father… being as powerful as he was, had enemies. It is a reason your mother wished for an alpha, for someone who could claim his name and have the societal strength to fight for it."

He leaned forward, "If people were to find out that the son of the great General Hayoon was not only alive but a male omega…"

Junsu let the words hang in the air, "You’d be in danger, Beomgyu."

The omega felt the truth settle in his chest, deep and suffocating. He hated it, hated how unfair the world was. How even now, the legacy of his father, a man who had fought and bled for this land, could also become a weapon against him.

He lowered his eyes and for a long moment, he said nothing. Then he nodded, "Well, no need to worry about it then, Junsu. Just knowing… that I had a father. That he was a great man, is enough for me." 

He lifted his head, offering a small smile, "Thank you, as well, for telling me this. I had lost hope that I would ever get to know"

Junsu’s expression became more tender, "Do not thank me, Beomgyu. In all honesty, you should have known about this sooner. But alas, we cannot change the past." 

A pause then he added, "I have many stories of him. If you ever wish to hear them later on."

Beomgyu hesitated for only a breath before he nodded. Then, without another word, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the beta. The older man stilled, momentarily surprised, but then exhaled and rested a steadying hand against Beomgyu’s back.

For the first time in a long while, Beomgyu allowed himself the comfort of knowing he was not entirely alone. And outside, the night stretched endless and still and somewhere beyond the silence, the truth lingered unspoken, but still there within him.

———

April arrived with the gentlest of winds, blooming magnolias, and the heat of the sun. 

The past of the unrelenting and cold winter had faded into nothing but an afterthought—no longer did the palace grounds crack under frost, nor did the rivers run sluggish beneath sheets of ice. Even the halls of the palace, which once felt heavy with mourning, now breathed with new life as the final days of grief slipped away.

And with it, came the inevitable.

A letter had arrived the last week of March, sealed with the queen’s mark, addressed to Junsu. The mourning period of the royal family had ended and King Hyunseok had been buried. Which meant that any day now, the royal family would return.

Beomgyu hadn’t read it himself, but he didn’t need to. The moment Junsu’s expression shifted, the moment he let out a slow exhale and turned to him with a look that said it is time, and the omega had known. He had known that with their return came the future.

A future Beomgyu had spent months refusing to acknowledge.

A future where Yeonjun is becoming king.

The truth of it all sat like a stone in his chest, and it made the air disappear so he could no longer breathe. For months, he had existed in an in-between, floating in the space between yesterday and tomorrow, pretending the present could stretch on forever.

But now, there was no more time.

It had been only a day since April began, and yet Beomgyu felt as though each moment slipped through his fingers like sand. Each morning, he woke before the sun rose and wandered the palace grounds in desperation, rooted in his need to memorize.

He traced the halls with his fingertips, memorized the texture of the stone, the way light hit the edges of the pillars at midday.

He stood before the throne room doors longer than necessary, imagining how, in just days, Yeonjun would walk through them and never leave.

He carved every inch of this place into his memory because soon, he would no longer have the right to be here. Soon, he would be outside looking in, no longer allowed to walk these halls freely, no longer able to stand beside Yeonjun in the way he once had.

And God, as much as he hated what the future held and wanted to hold it off, he missed Yeonjun deeply. How he wanted to be near the alpha, to see him before anyone else, to welcome him back because they did not have much time left with one another.

It was foolish, he knew, a foolish desire. The palace and the prince had never belonged to him and yet, he found himself mourning it all the same.

And then, on the second morning, his wandering was interrupted.

“Hyung?”

Beomgyu startled, turning sharply on his heel. Lord Huening Kai stood a few paces behind him, an amused tilt to his head. They had become close in this time, enough for him to find out the alpha was actually younger than him and enough for the alpha to insist on calling him hyung.

In his mind, he found it funny how similar Huening was to Soobin, and how none of them realized it.

“I must ask,” the alpha continued, “why do you trail around here every day?”

Beomgyu blinked, “I—” He cleared his throat trying for nonchalance, “I… did not see you there.”

“I gathered as much.” Huening’s lips quirked into a teasing smile as he walked closer.

The omega glanced away. It was strange, being noticed. He had grown used to solitude these past few days, lost in his own head and unchallenged in his thoughts. But now, with Huening Kai watching him expectantly, waiting for an answer, he felt suddenly silly.

He hesitated before finally saying, “I just… want to remember this all.” A vague answer, but there was truth to it.

Huening Kai hummed and then nodded, “I understand that,” he admitted,

“I used to do the same, you know. Whenever I visited my mother’s house here. We would come every summer, but the rest of the year, I lived in Germany with my father.” 

His eyes grew distant with nostalgia, “I remember never wanting to leave. Afraid that, if I did, I would forget it.”

For a few moments, Beomgyu studied him quietly. The alpha did not speak of his family or roots that often, but the few glimpses he has allowed made it clear that his life was not as easy as most noble lives were. 

“That must have been hard,” the omega replied, “Leaving the one place you think of as home.”

The alpha exhaled a small laugh, “It was.” 

Huening Kai glanced at the omega then with an almost pitiful look in his eyes, “But sometimes…we are so afraid of losing something, we don’t stop to consider what it means to be free of it.”

At the words, Beomgyu felt his mouth go dry. 

He did not reply. Or more like, he could not reply. 

Because freedom, true freedom, had always been something distant. He had never been given the privilege of choosing where he belonged. He had spent his entire life being told what he could be, where he could go, who he could serve.

But becoming Yeonjun’s personal servant had allowed for a deal to be made between the two, that he would finally be free. 

And he had considered what it meant to be free of it all.

It meant living a life where he could pursue his dreams, where he could run far from the preening eyes of society, where he could create a family, fall in love once more, and build the life he had always wished for.

Being free meant having the privilege of choosing where you now belonged, and any person who had been bound to the chains of servitude would choose freedom for this reason.

But Beomgyu was not like any person, no, was far different from any of them. 

And being free was the last thing he wanted.

He did not want to be away from Yeonjun for any longer. Not now, not when there was much left to be said. Not when he longed for every inch of the alpha’s body and soul. Not when the mere thought of him healed every bit of tension and despair he had felt these past few months without him. 

He loves Yeonjun, more than he ever believed he could ever love anyone. And he absolutely refused to lose him, not now, not yet.

Huening Kai stared at him for a moment longer before shifting the topic,

“Yeonjun hyung might find this difficult, too,” he mused, “Throttled into a long journey to suddenly become king.”

The omega nodded along, he knew that Yeonjun felt this way through the letters they sent one another. He would detail often of how his duty weighed on him, of the people and nobles he met, of the land he was getting to know, of everything he would soon rule.

He let out a slow breath, “He does.”

The alpha quirked a brow, “Well, I think he does but you sound so sure.” He paused before grinning slyly, “Almost like he told you himself.”

Beomgyu stiffened, his face immediately heating at the words. Of course, speaking in absolute terms would not escape the observing behavior the alpha had.

He knew Huening was clever, but it was moments like these where he could read between the lines and call things out that he was sure would not be noticed, that it was even more clear to him how clever he was.

“Oh?” Huening teased, “Hyung, have you two been...writing to one another?”

The omega cleared his throat, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, “Well, not anymore,” he said, “But we did, perhaps. Only once or twice.”

A lie. They had written far more than that. Hell, his drawer was filled to the brim with each and every letter he had received from the crown prince, cherishing them in secret. Every night, he would re-read one or two, in hopes of feeling a bit closer to the alpha despite the distance.

Every day, he would go about with a hope that he would receive a letter from the prince once more. But ever since the king passed, the letters stopped understandably so.

Huening Kai hummed, clearly unconvinced but instead of pressing, he only tilted his head, “You two are close, then?”

The omega stilled, he did not know how to answer. Were they? Well, in some way, yes. But in many other ways, no.  

But at last, hesitantly, he nodded, “I like to believe that we are.”

And the alpha could only smile at this, “I am glad.” He looked at him then, something sincere in his gaze,

“Being in his position, it is not easy to be close to many. He barely had many true friends growing up,  so, Yeonjun hyung is lucky to have someone like you by his side.”

Beomgyu felt his throat tighten. He had heard words similar to this before from Soobin.

And yet he hated how he did not feel the truth in them. He did not feel the prince was “lucky” for having him, in fact, he felt it was the other way. Before getting close to Yeonjun, he felt as if his life was dull, blurred from his trauma. 

But somehow, through all the pain and suffering he has felt because of the alpha, he has also become a version of himself he is proud of. Someone who is able to stand up for themselves, someone who is able to voice their emotions, someone who is allowing themselves to hope, even with the risk of it being crushed.

And even more, through Yeonjun, he now understands what love is. 

But instead of voicing this, he only exhaled and offered a small smile, “Thank you, Huening-ah.”

And then before the weight of the moment could settle too deeply, he changed the conversation, “Well, enough of that. Let’s go have something to eat, shall we?”

Huening Kai let out a laugh, shaking his head, “You’re avoiding, but fine. I’ll allow it.”

The tension broke into something softer and bearable. As they walked toward the dining hall, the sun shone across the garden paths, its golden light shining through the leaves as the breeze settled through his long hair.

And at the sight of it, Beomgyu hoped that the future could wait. Only for a moment, long enough for him to memorize the rest of the royal grounds and to smell the scent of cedarwood and cinnamon once more.

———

A few days later, Beomgyu awoke with a racing heart.

Outside, the world moved on as it always had. The palace rang with  the faint calls of people exchanging morning greetings, the patter of feet. The scent of spring curled in through the half-open window, fragrant and mingling, and that only meant one thing—

It was late.

Beomgyu exhaled as he lay still beneath the tangled sheets, his body sluggish with sleep. It had been happening too often, him waking later than he should, sinking into that strange, endless limbo that made each morning feel like it had already slipped through his fingers before he could grasp it.

The waiting had done this to him.

It had gotten to the point where he did not even know what he was waiting for anymore. Or who he was waiting for. Just the mere fact that he was stuck waiting.

With a sharp breath, he pushed himself up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. I should hurry, He thought to himself.

There were duties that he wanted to complete alongside Junsu, tasks to occupy his restless hands. It was foolish to linger in bed as though the weight in his chest would lessen if he lay there long enough.

As he dressed, the fabric felt heavier than usual like it clung to his skin in protest. As he tied his sash, his fingers hesitated for a fraction of a second, as if his body knew something he did not. But he ignored this feeling and went on. 

The palace did not wait for him.

So he stepped out, letting the doors close behind him with a quiet click.

The walk through the courtyards was uneventful, at first. Servants hurried past, heads bowed in greeting, footsteps light against the stone. Beomgyu responded to them without thought, his mind caught somewhere in between wakefulness and dream, body moving on instinct rather than intention.

The air was warmer than it had been the day before. The kind of warmth that signaled the full embrace of the change in seasons as the sun sat higher and the wind carried the hum of insects stirring in the grass. Everything was the same as it had been the past few days.

And yet.

Something gnawed at him. A sensation that had no name, no form. It was just an itch at the edges of his awareness. A passing person murmured something to another, their voices hushed but unbothered. He did not catch their words.

Beomgyu frowned slightly, pausing just long enough to glance over his shoulder, but the moment had already moved on. Whatever had been said was gone now, irrelevant to anyone who was not searching for meaning in nothing at all.

He shook his head at himself. Why am I so out of it?

The path he walked led him toward the outer halls near Junsu’s chambers. It was a bit more reclusive but it was still in the main palace where most people stayed. And when he turned the corner, he heard laughter ring throughout.

It was not just any laughter. It was warm. Familiar. Close.

His feet stopped moving before he had even registered why. A voice followed, easy and rich with amusement. A voice that did not belong here. Not yet, at least, not without him knowing first. But the closer he got, the more he felt the air in his lungs vanish.

No. His ears had to be deceiving him and yet, his body had already reacted before his mind could fight against it, his pulse leaping to attention, his hands curling, curling, curling at his sides. No, no, no—

He stepped forward before he could think to stop himself.

Beomgyu had imagined this moment a thousand times. He had thought of the ways it might unfold, the way Yeonjun would look at him when their eyes met again, the words they would exchange. 

He had wanted to be the first to see him, to feel the weight of his absence lift the second he returned.

As his servant, it was his duty to welcome him in, to show him where his new residence is, and be there when the new & most important chapter officially began.

And as someone who loved the prince, he wanted to be the first to lay eyes on him as the months of longing had worn him down. 

But apparently life had other plans in bringing them together because when he took that step forward to near the laughter, Yeonjun was standing right there. 

And Beomgyu was not the one beside him.

He froze at the sight of him with a painful lump in his throat. Yeonjun stood tall and composed with that effortless confidence that had always defined him. But the world around Beomgyu blurred at the edges, his mind sluggish as if he had been plunged underwater. 

When did he get here? The thought crashed over him. How long has he been here?  The thoughts hollowed him out. Why didn’t I know?

The questions pressed against his ribs and his body stiff with the force of that unspoken regret. The months of waiting, of yearning, of missing him had led to this and he had not even been there to welcome him home.

And yet, despite the sting of it, the pull remained. He wanted to move. To step forward, to feel Yeonjun’s presence closer, to hear his voice directed at him. His body responded before his mind could stop it and he found himself walking faster and faster towards the alpha, one step, then another—

Then he saw it, Yeonjun was not alone.

Huening Kai, Junsu, and his younger brother, Prince Woonhak. They stood with him, speaking casually with the familiarity of those who had been apart for too long. It should not have felt foreign. It should not have felt like something Beomgyu had been left out of.

And yet a sharp kind of shame coiled in his stomach at the sight. Standing there, hovering on the edge of the group, he suddenly felt like a spectator to something he had no part in. 

“Beomgyu hyung?”

Huening Kai’s voice cut through his thoughts and just like that, all conversation stilled. Junsu turned first, smiling warmly, and Woonhak followed with a polite nod.

But it was Yeonjun’s gaze that held him in place, wide and unreadable, pinning him to the spot before he could even think to move.

The moment their eyes met, Beomgyu felt his heart lurch violently in his chest.

The sight of him and the realness of him, was too much. He had spent months yearning for this, for him, for the sound of his voice, the curve of his mouth, the feeling of his body. And now, here he was standing mere feet away and looking at him as though he hadn’t expected to see him at all. 

And suddenly every ounce of love he felt for Yeonjun flared within him like a flash of heat, overwhelming his very senses and beating down on him like a heavy spring shower.

I missed you. The words rushed up to his tongue, burning, desperate. I missed you beyond compare. But they lodged in his throat, trapped there, unable to escape. I missed you. I love you—

“Oh, did you not know they had returned?” Huening Kai’s voice cut through his thoughts, almost teasing but also knowing. Of course, the alpha knew before he did.

The omega swallowed, forcing his emotions down his throat,  “No,” he admitted quietly, the word tasting bitter, “I had not heard.”

“You must have slept in too late, then. Junsu was up before the sun, and so was I. They arrived then.”

The old man let out a chuckle, “I had to be. The physicians always rise early.”

The conversation went on, but Beomgyu barely registered it. His focus was elsewhere, locked onto the figure before him. Yeonjun still had not looked away.

The alpha had changed, more than he had expected. 

His face was as beautiful as always, but he had sharpened, his features honed by time and distance, his posture even more poised than before, as though his responsibilities had only grown.

But there were things that remained—subtle, familiar. The slight furrow of his brow when lost in thought. The way his fingers twitched at his side as if resisting the urge to move. The scent of cinnamon and cedarwood that lingered between them, unmistakable even from a distance.

But it was his eyes that unraveled Beomgyu most of all.

They were tired. Worn from travel, from duty, from things left unsaid. But beneath that exhaustion, there was something else. Something raw. Something that made Beomgyu’s chest ache.

And then suddenly he saw the prince’s mouth move and the words escape him, 

“Have you been well?”

The first words Yeonjun had spoken to him in months. Quiet, meant only for him.

Beomgyu’s fingers curled tighter into his sleeves, steadying himself against the weight of that voice. The prince was actually here. Truly here, standing before him, and yet it did not feel the way he had imagined it.

Because this reunion had not gone the way he expected. Because looking at the prince now, he felt the love he felt double in size, the reality of it all sinking in. And because his return also meant the beginning of something Beomgyu had dreaded. 

“Yes I have been, my prince,” he answered and then, after a breath, “And you?”

Yeonjun exhaled, “It has been a long journey,” he murmured, lowering his head, “But I am here now.”

Beomgyu felt something tighten inside him. Somehow it felt awkward, the interaction. As if the words they were speaking were not the ones either of them currently wanted to say. He thinks of the letters they exchanged, of how they both wrote about how much they missed one another, how much they wished for this time to pass.

And now they are finally here, facing one another, but unable to do anything.

But what they did say was so simple yet laced with something fragile. The omega wanted to say something in return. Wanted to tell him, Do not leave me. Wanted to close the space between them and—

But he couldn’t.

Then, he noticed it. The slightest twitch of Yeonjun’s fingers at his side. A barely there movement that anyone else might have missed. But the omega saw it and knew what it meant. For all his restraint and his careful composure, Yeonjun wanted to reach out just as badly as he did.

“My mother will wish to speak with the physicians by this evening,” Yeonjun said then, his tone shifting so seamlessly that it could have fooled anyone else, “A meeting has been set.”

At that last part, he looked at Beomgyu, and for a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to hope. That after the months of separation and after this unexpected reunion, it could finally just be them two.

But then Junsu spoke, “Then, if I may, I would like to assess your health before the evening is over.”

Yeonjun hesitated before waving him off, “That will not be necessary—”

“No, my boy, I insist.”

And just like that, the hope slipped away. Junsu, albeit an old man, was also a stern one and one they all respected despite his oddness.

So Yeonjun simply nodded, resigned, “Very well.”

And then they were leaving. Beomgyu knew he should remain still, unaffected. But his throat tightened, his hands ached at his sides. He wanted to move, to reach, to do something. But Yeonjun turned, walking away and yet, just before he disappeared down the path, he hesitated.

The briefest pause and then, he turned back, just for a moment, his gaze finding Beomgyu’s once more.

Neither of them spoke. But in that glance, it was all there.

Wait for me.

Then, Yeonjun was gone and Beomgyu was left standing there, heart beating faster than before.

———

True to Yeonjun’s words, Queen Eunyoung hosted a meeting later that evening. 

In this council room stood those who had been present during King Hyunseok’s final moments, when the most probable cause of his death had been laid out before them—an illness, they had claimed at first, something of the body’s own failing.

But also in this room stood those who knew better, who understood that his death had been placed upon him, that it had come not from within, but from the poison that had seeped into his blood.

Beomgyu was among them, standing beside Junsu and Huening Kai as they waited.

Across the room stood Prince Soobin and Yeonjun, standing side by side and he tried his very best to not look their way. The chamber smelled of aged wood and candle wax, but beneath it, there was something colder and that could not be named, only felt.

The doors slid open.

The queen entered with a poise, dressed in deep navy silk embroidered with golden threads. She looked just as changed too, eyes just as worn but in them the fire of a vengeful widow. 

She greeted her sons first, pulling them in for a brief hug. And then she turned to Junsu, quietly speaking to him, then Huening Kai, reaching out to pat his arm warmly. But when her eyes landed on Beomgyu, something in them softened further, her expression shifting tenderly.

Her hand extended, holding his hand in a gesture far too gentle than he would ever be used to.

“It has been some time, Beomgyu.” Her voice was smooth and maternal, the kind that carried reassurance that had once made him feel safe,

“You have kept yourself well, I hope.”

He should have been able to return the sentiment with ease. Should have been able to look into her eyes and see only kindness, only the familiarity of the woman who had once looked after him when no one else had.

But he couldn’t.

Because he knew. He knew now what he had not before—knew that behind that warmth lay deception, that she had always known the truth of him, had always known his blood was not meant to be dismissed yet had chosen to remain silent. She had been part of the reason why no one had fought for him, why the truth of his father had never been spoken.

She had known of everything and chose to not do anything.

And yet Beomgyu could not let her see that he knew. So he forced it down, forced the tightness in his throat into something small and invisible.

He dipped his head slightly, his voice quiet as he replied, “I have, Your Majesty. It is good to see you well.”

Her smile did not falter. If she sensed anything beneath his words, she gave no indication. With a graceful turn, she moved toward her seat at the head of the chamber. The rest followed, taking their places and once they had all settled, she spoke.

“My brother and my dear nephew, Lord Taehyun, have concluded their investigations,” she began,

“There is enough evidence to suggest that Minister Daeho has access to lead.” A pause, “As do Minister Jongsuk and Minister Naeun.”

The room remained silent, though tension flickered in the air like a slow-burning wick.

“They are continuing their inquiries, but the nature of these findings is enough to suggest involvement. And yet, as you all know, accusations alone will not be enough to act upon.”

Her eyes met everyone’s in the room,

“We are hoping that during the mating ceremony, since Minister Daeho will be in attendance, an opportunity will arise. Perhaps to secure enough evidence to arrest him, or any of the other nobles who may be connected to this.”

Soobin was the first to speak, “I do not think that will be easy, though, mother. Men like Daeho do not move carelessly. If he has evaded suspicion this long, he will be watching every step he takes.”

Then Beomgyu heard Junsu exhale, his fingers tapping idly against the wooden table, “And yet, that wariness could be his downfall. The more cautious he becomes, the more mistakes he may make.”

The queen inclined her head slightly, “Indeed. That is why my brother and Taehyun will be arriving during the Spring Festival here in a few days, which, as you all know, will coincide with the coronation.”

At this, Beomgyu turned his gaze toward Yeonjun, drawn to him despite everything that was being said.

The alpha had been silent throughout the discussion, his posture straight. And as the queen spoke, there was no shift in his demeanor and no indication of surprise or unease. If he had not already known, he would have at least anticipated this much.

Beomgyu felt an anxiety knot in his stomach. Each second spent in this room was a second pulling him closer to something he did not want to face. A second bringing him closer to a future he did not want.

The coronation. The moment Yeonjun would ascend the throne. Beomgyu had tried not to think about it, had tried to push it from his mind whenever it threatened to surface. But there was no ignoring it now. It was coming and happening and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

“And the ministers?” Huening Kai asked, drawing his focus back to the present.

Queen Eunyoung’s expression remained composed,

“Some will be there, though we do not yet know how they will act. Minister Daeho, though, cannot be in attendance. So, we must wait for the mating ceremony as he is funding it.” A pause, “We are playing the waiting game now.”

“It is tedious,” she continued, “But we must find who did this, even if it means tearing everything apart. These ministers are not commodities. They are replaceable.”

Silence followed and then, one by one, heads nodded in agreement. It was settled. The queen exhaled, something in her expression relaxing as she leaned back slightly,

“That is all for now. I have only told you all of this since we are the only ones who know of my husband’s true cause of death, so I trust you all to keep this quiet.”

At this, everyone bowed their heads in respect, a silent vow to respect what has been told and the queen hummed in contentment at this,

“Well, it has been a long evening, and there is still much ahead of us. Rest while you can, you may go now.”

With that, the meeting was dismissed.

The rustling of clothes, the shuffling of feet, the murmurs of parting words. One by one, they all began to leave, stepping out into the cool night air.

Beomgyu followed and as he stepped out into the night, he could not shake the feeling that no matter how much he tried to ignore it—the future he feared was already upon him.

And although he felt much more relieved that they were close to arresting the person who had killed the king, the stress of everything that came along with it and everything that has happened since the king died, it had been eating him alive.

The wind wrapped around him as he stepped out of the chamber. The corridors of the palace stretched ahead, lit by lanterns and defined by lacquered wood. But Beomgyu paid little mind to any of it as he caught sight of what was in front of him.

His thoughts suddenly moved ahead, to Yeonjun, who stood just beyond the entrance, waiting.

Even from a distance, he could tell. Yeonjun was poised beside Huening Kai, the long folds of his robes falling in elegant layers over his form. Beomgyu noticed how he wasn’t speaking—he was simply watching, as if he had anticipated the omega would come to him the moment they were dismissed.

And he was right because Beomgyu did.

He would have closed the distance without hesitation, would have taken those final steps towards the alpha and spoken the words he had been holding in his chest for too long now.

But before he could, he felt a sudden tug at the end of his ponytail.

The unexpected pull sent a brief jolt through him and before he could react, a familiar scent flooded his senses; vanilla, warm and sweet, threaded through with sandalwood and he knew immediately who it was.

Turning swiftly, he caught sight of Soobin. The alpha stood there with a playful glint in his eyes, his lips already curling into a grin. And at the sight of him so close, Beomgyu could not help but feel his entire face light up.

“Hyung!” He exclaimed, both annoyed and amused.

Soobin only laughed, stepping back slightly as if expecting the omega to retaliate, “Got you, Beomgyu,” he said, voice filled with easy familiarity.

The omega scoffed but couldn’t keep the smile from tugging at his lips, “Is that how you greet someone after weeks of being gone?”

“I would have expected you to be more dignified,” the alpha teased, folding his arms over his chest, “But no, you just yelp like a startled cat.”

Beomgyu rolled his eyes, but there was no real irritation behind it.

Truthfully, he had missed Soobin. During the long months when Yeonjun had been away, Soobin had been one of the few constants in his life, a presence that had grown from a distant figure of nobility to something far closer, something Beomgyu hadn’t realized he needed until he had it.

And then, for the past few weeks, Soobin had been gone as well, attending his father’s funeral. It had left an emptiness behind that Beomgyu hadn’t acknowledged until now.

He might have said something about it, some dry remark about how the palace had been too quiet without Soobin’s nonsense, but before he could, he turned back slightly and that was when his eyes caught sight of something interesting. 

Huening Kai was nowhere to be seen, and now, standing there alone, was Yeonjun.

The shift in atmosphere was immediate. The alpha wasn’t looking at Beomgyu anymore—he was looking at his own brother, Soobin. Or rather, at the two of them, at the casual way they stood together, the way his younger brother had reached for him. There was something dark in his eyes, shadowed beneath the flickering lantern light.

Beomgyu felt the words between him and Soobin die out. And the prince royal noticed too. His gaze moved between the both of them before something knowing curled at the corner of his lips. With an exaggerated sigh, he stepped back.

“Well, we can catch up some other time.” he mused, eyes glinting with mirth, “I’ll leave you to it then.”

And then, as if to make matters worse, he winked. Beomgyu barely had time to glare at him before Soobin turned on his heel, retreating into the depths of the palace corridors, the scent of vanilla and sandalwood faded with him.

And now, it was just the two of them.

Beomgyu turned back slowly and he felt Yeonjun’s presence suddenly tenfold. This was what he had longed for. Just them. No pressure, no preening eyes, no barriers—only the prince standing before him, close enough that Beomgyu could reach out and touch him if he wanted to.

And yet before he could even utter a greeting as he had been wishing to do so, Yeonjun spoke first. A single word. Low. Almost a whisper.

“‘Hyung?’”

Beomgyu froze at the word.

He barely had time to process it before Yeonjun stepped closer, close enough that his scent, warm cinnamon, deep cedarwood, wrapped around him in a slow, smoldering wave. The first time he had felt it truly and it was immediately suffocating. The kind of scent that made it impossible to ignore the presence of the alpha standing before him.

And the prince looked at him as if he was ready to prey.

“I did not know,” Yeonjun continued, voice measured, “that you were close enough to my brother to call him… hyung.”

Beomgyu felt every word in his throat die out. He knew that tone. Knew the way Yeonjun’s tongue pressed against his cheek, the barely veiled tension in the way he held himself. It was controlled but he had studied the prince for too long not to recognize what lay beneath.

Disappointment.

It coiled beneath his words, in the sharp way he had enunciated hyung, in the way his eyes stayed locked on Beomgyu’s face.

“I thought I mentioned it to you, my prince,” He stammered, his own voice faltering despite himself, “In my letter. That he and I had become friends.”

Yeonjun laughed but not because he found it humorous, “Close enough to drop titles? I also noticed Huening called you hyung as well. Tell me, how is it that they became so close to you in such a short time?”

Before Beomgyu could respond, the prince continued, jaw tightened as he straightened out and looked the omega dead in his eyes,

“Us two, we are…friends, are we not? We’ve been together for quite some time and yet you do not call me hyung.”

Beomgyu could feel the way tension rippled through him at the word ‘friends’ and he couldn’t help but scoff lightly,

“I—that is different, my prince. I could never address you as such and we both know this.” 

“And how is that?” 

The prince responded back so quickly in almost a condescending tone and suddenly he could not find it in him to respond. 

How was he supposed to?

How could he explain that he could never call Yeonjun ‘hyung’, because it would mean more to him than it would to the prince. With Soobin, that title was nothing more than just a casual honorific for he does not feel anything for the prince royal other than platonic affection.

How was he supposed to explain that he could never cross that line with Yeonjun, out of fear of the love he felt for him?

Yeonjun only stared as he waited for an answer and Beomgyu felt like an idiot with his mouth hanging wide, barely closing and opening as he tried to muster out an answer to no avail. This was not how he had imagined their true reunion would go.

Suddenly the whole moment felt wrong.

He had spent months waiting for the time it would be just them two, and had thought of it in countless ways. And yet, standing here now, with Yeonjun looking at him like this, like something had unsettled him, Beomgyu felt something inside him twist.

So he backtracked.

He exhaled, lowering his gaze for the briefest moment,

“Allow me to apologize,” he replied instead, “I should not allow Lord Huening to lower himself like that, or address Prince Soobin that way. They are nobility, and I should not say such things about them.”

Yeonjun watched him for a long moment, eyes never leaving for one second.

Then his expression shifted and just like that the intensity melted away with a soft breath. And then the prince’s hand reached out, fingers slipping into Beomgyu’s hair, ruffling it in a way that was affectionate and the touch seeped itself into his very mind.

“Now don’t go saying all that. You know how I hate it when you speak that way about yourself,” he murmured, “You all can be friends, it is not my business.”

And then, he leaned in and Beomgyu felt himself still at the action. The space between them shortened, warm breath ghosting against Beomgyu’s ears as the scent of cedar and cinnamon intermingled with his own honey and orange, intensifying by the second.

“But,” Yeonjun murmured softer now, “I would rather you just focus on me now.” 

His fingers slid down, grazing against Beomgyu’s cheek and cupping it with the barest hesitation. His thumb brushed along his skin, “It has been a while, and I—”

The prince faltered, words hung between them. And Beomgyu, staring up at him and heart pounding, felt Yeonjun’s scent wrapping around him like a tether, and he could feel every emotion within him burst slowly.

Then, quietly the alpha admitted, “I missed you, Beomgyu.”

For a moment, neither of them moved.

And the omega felt every atom in his body still, the words shaking him to his core. He had known this, the prince wrote of this sentiment often. But hearing it from his mouth, in his sultry and tender tone, straight into his ears made him feel like the world suddenly came to a halt.

Then Yeonjun let out a sigh and the tension in his grip loosening. And inside, his omega screamed at him to do something, anything to pull him back. But he stood frozen and could only stare with shaky eyes.

“Come,” The prince murmured at last, his voice absent of its earlier sharpness, “Walk with me.”

Beomgyu hated how he hesitated but then he gave a small nod. He fell into step beside Yeonjun as the prince turned and strode toward the deeper halls of the royal grounds.

As they left the main palace, it took the omega a moment to realize where they were going.

The Palace of the Monarch.

Yeonjun’s new residence and technically Beomgyu’s as well.

He had spent weeks overseeing its preparation, days consumed by arrangement, the selection of furnishings, and the details of its decor. He had ensured the wood was polished to a gleam, and had seen to it that the delicate porcelain vases, gifts, that they were arranged in places that caught the light just so.

All to make Yeonjun feel more at home. 

And now the alpha was here, to finally see what he had worked hard to arrange for him. As they walked, the sounds of the palace evening faded out around them. They only heard the occasional rustle of wind threading through the trees in the courtyard, and they felt how the spring chill was comforting.

Neither of them spoke until they reached the entrance of Yeonjun’s new chambers.

And the omega hesitated just beyond the threshold. This was all too unexpected and unfamiliar. He did not know what to think of now, last time he had been in here, it felt suffocating. But Yeonjun simply looked at him, then stepped inside without a word, leaving the door slightly open.

Beomgyu swallowed hard and then followed. The room looked exactly as he left it. Soft candlelight burned across the carved wooden beams, the space was decorated in deep shades of gold and rich crimson, and yet, there were traces of Beomgyu here too.

The low table near the window, positioned just so to catch the light. The set of scrolls he had carefully arranged on the shelf, knowing Yeonjun liked to read late into the night. The cushions, ones he had chosen for their softness, for the way he knew Yeonjun would sit upon them after long hours of court affairs, weary and needing rest.

He had touched every part of this space. And now, standing here with Yeonjun, he felt it all pressing back into him.

“You did well,” The prince complimented, “With this place.”

Beomgyu turned to find the prince watching him and he felt himself freeze up once more. He hated it, hated how he had spent so long missing this and missing the way the alpha looked at him, but only to choke up and get nervous now that he finally had it again.

“I only did what was required of me,” He replied carefully.

The alpha tilted his head slightly, “Is that all?”

Beomgyu hesitated then, in a way more tender than he had intended, he said, “I wanted it to feel like home for you.”

Yeonjun didn’t respond right away.

Instead, he stepped closer, lingering on the omega’s face as if he was searching. For what? Beomgyu did not know. What he did know is that the cause of this awkwardness must be the letters, for what else could it be? 

They had written things to each other, shared words that came from places deep within them, feelings raw and unguarded. But saying something out loud was different than writing it down. The letters, with their quiet confessions, had created a bridge between them, one that neither knew how to fully cross.

They had both bared their hearts in those letters, but now, in the quiet of this expansive room, it felt like they were both holding their breaths, unsure of what came next.

The omega cleared his throat, trying to ease the mood, “When did you guys arrive, my prince?”

Yeonjun’s lips curled into the teasing smile, “Early morning, did you not pay attention to Junsu earlier?”

And the truth was, no, he was not paying attention to anything anyone said when they first ran into one another.

He had been so lost in the overwhelming presence of Yeonjun’s return, so consumed by the sight of him standing there, real and in front of him, that everything else had blurred. The answer of when the prince had arrived had slipped past him entirely.

“No,” Beomgyu replied while rubbing the back of his neck, an almost embarrassed laugh escaping him, “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon, I was quite surprised to see you earlier, my prince.” 

He met the alpha’s eyes briefly then looked away, feeling the heat now crawl up his neck, “The journey back must have been grueling, no?”

Yeonjun leaned slightly against the wooden pillar, arms crossed over his chest.

“It was. But I had more pressing matters to return to. Duty and all that,” he said as though he wasn’t entirely convinced by his own reply.

And Beomgyu only nodded absently, feeling the truth of that statement resonate too deeply in his chest.

Duty—it had always been a part of Yeonjun’s life, and now, Beomgyu could see it clearer than ever. How the prince was so close to the throne, to the destiny that was already shaping around him. The destiny that would, inevitably, pull them apart and would make all of these moments between them nothing but memories.

“I’m sure it is nothing compared to what’s coming, though,” Beomgyu said with discomfort gathering in his mouth, "The mating ceremony and coronation. That’s the real test."

The alpha’s eyes narrowed slightly as he heard the question and the way the omega had said it, as if it bothered him. 

“Are you... concerned?” Yeonjun asked after a moment, like he was trying to figure out what exactly he meant by those words.

Beomgyu felt himself freeze up at the words and he could see the subtle shift in Yeonjun’s demeanor, could see the way his eyes studied him, looking for something that the omega didn’t want to give away. No, he told himself, don’t go there.

“I’m not concerned,” He replied almost too quickly, “Like you said, it is your duty, my prince. You’ve been preparing for this your whole life.”

There was an almost imperceptible pause as Yeonjun continued to watch him.

Even when Beomgyu lied through his teeth, somehow the prince was always able to see right through it. Always has been able to. And he saw how the alpha suddenly had an almost sorrowful look in his eyes.

“Beomgyu,” Yeonjun began, “I know you understand that, we both do. But I’m asking how do you feel about it?”

Beomgyu’s heart stuttered, pulse thrumming in his ears. The question was almost too much. How do I feel about it?

How could he put into words the way his chest felt tight every time he thought about the future? How could he explain how everything in him ached at the idea of the alpha marrying someone else, of the promise he had made, and the distance it would create between them?

Beomgyu forced himself to meet Yeonjun’s gaze, but the words that danced on the tip of his tongue, words that had been buried deep inside him, stayed locked away.

How could he say what he really felt? How could he say that in all of this, he loved the prince so dearly he would rather forsake his freedom? How he wished things could be different, that they weren’t bound by this unfair world?

“I feel fine,” He replied, swallowing down the words knowing he could not speak them.

He stepped back, trying to put more distance between them but it was impossible. There was no escape from this moment, “I am glad that you are becoming king, because then you can marry, and have your own…family.” 

They were all lies. Lies upon lies upon lies. But he felt the need to do so, to convince someone that he was somewhat okay with this, but he felt the bitterness in every vowel as he spoke.

And when he looked up, he saw the alpha staring at him so intensely that he couldn’t even hear himself when he said the words,

“And then I'll be free to live my life.”

Silence fell upon them and he immediately regretted every word he said. He felt his omega swirl in anger at no one but his foolish self. A part of Beomgyu wants to think that he will be free anyways, might as well tell the alpha how he felt.

But the other part of him knew that would only wreck him even more, knowing that the prince knew of how he felt and still nothing coming out of it. It was a forsaken situation, where no matter what he did, he would still be a part of the losing team.

He watched quietly how the prince’s mouth parted slightly as if to say something, but he closed it again, thinking better of it.

Then his jaw clenched, a heavy gulp followed by a small step closer to the omega.

“Yes, well, that was my promise to you,” Yeonjun spoke with a heavy voice. 

And for a brief second, Beomgyu felt something stir in him. A small part of him had hoped Yeonjun would say something else, that he might find a way to avoid that promise, to keep things as they were.

But he knew the prince was a resolute man, an alpha of his word, and he would do as he said.

The omega swallowed again, the truth of it settling heavy on his chest. How could he expect Yeonjun to know what to say or hope for the prince to say the things he wants to hear, when all Beomgyu does is lie? In this conversation, he has lied more to him about how he feels because the truth of his own feelings scares him. 

Of course Yeonjun will keep his promise. Because the prince thinks that is what Beomgyu wants—to be free.

He does not know of the longing in the omega’s heart, and suddenly Beomgyu feels like an idiot for expecting anything more than that. It is his own fault that the prince does not love him back, for the prince does not even know an ounce of what Beomgyu feels.

And he never will.

His eyes darted away, not wanting the alpha to see the hurt in them. "I see," He said softly.

There was a long pause and neither of them spoke. It was as though both were waiting, but neither of them knew for what. Beomgyu found his voice again, more hesitant this time,

"How do you feel about it, my prince?" he asked, looking up at Yeonjun, "About... everything? About the mating ceremony? Letting me free?”

Yeonjun did not say anything for a long moment, as if weighing the question carefully.

“It’s what I must do,” he said at last, “It’s not what I wanted, but it’s what I must do.”

Beomgyu felt his chest tighten as he realized how the alpha was also trying to hide it, trying to push the emotions away, but he could see right through it.

And for a moment, he was struck by the realization that Yeonjun, despite everything, was just as trapped as he was.

“Right,” He whispered, almost to himself, “It is what you must do.”

Then the alpha reached out slowly, almost hesitantly, his hand just barely brushing the sleeve of the omega’s shirt.

“Listen, Beomgyu. I don’t want you to feel like you’re just a part of the plan. I never wanted that for you, you know how…important you are to me.”

There was a heavy quietness between them. Beomgyu couldn’t look at him, he couldn’t bear to see the look in Yeonjun’s eyes, not when everything was falling apart around them, not when he could already feel the space between them widening with every passing second.

“Say something, please.” The alpha whispered almost desperately, “I want to hear, from you, that you understand how I feel.”

The tension in the air was now too grand to ignore, suffocating in its silence. Beomgyu could feel his pulse throbbing in his neck, the tightness in his chest growing with each passing second.

Yeonjun’s gaze felt like it was unraveling him, pulling at all the things he had kept buried for so long, things that had lived in the letters, things that had haunted him every night since the alpha had left. 

Then an ache in his body thrummed, that same pull from before now taking refuge in his limbs, and his hands shook with an urgency to be closer, to close the space between them, even if it was a boundary he should never cross.

Then he spoke before he could think, "Forgive me for this, my prince—" 

Before the alpha could even respond, and before Beomgyu could even process his own decision, he felt himself step forward, arms moving of their own accord.

He reached for Yeonjun, honey and orange blossom seeping from his skin in a soft tremble as he pulled the alpha into a desperate, tight embrace.

Immediately, he felt the warmth of the alpha’s body and a jolt of heat flooded through him as if it had been waiting for this moment.

Instinctively, he buried his face in the crook of Yeonjun’s neck, inhaling softly at the potent scent of cinnamon and cedar that soothed him in a reality that felt far too confusing. 

“I missed you as well,” Beomgyu whispered, the words feeling like a release of his own emotions even though they were the simplest thing he could say. 

Yeonjun’s body stiffened for a fraction of a second and Beomgyu's heart skipped, unsure if the alpha would pull away or reject the touch.

But then as if something inside him had given way, the prince's arms wrapped around his back, pulling the omega closer as his face pressed against Beomgyu’s hair.

The feeling of the alpha’s skin seeped into him and he could sense the steady and strong rhythm of the prince’s heartbeat beneath, and suddenly, he felt something break inside of him.

For some reason, feeling the alpha so rawly like this only made him realize how real Yeonjun was, that he had a heart just like his and a soul that he yearned to touch.

And it broke every bit inside of him. 

Beomgyu continued, “I meant to say it back to you earlier but even now, I can hardly believe you’ve returned. I wanted to be the first to greet you as well, and…I was saddened that I was not.”

The moment stretched, and for a beat, he feared this might be the one moment that would break them. This one act of crossing boundaries. He could feel Yeonjun's chest rise and fall against his own, and then the alpha finally spoke.

He whispered into the omega’s long hair, “You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say those words, Beomgyu. God, you have no clue."

It was then that he realized just how fucked up this was. 

He felt within himself how much he had needed Yeonjun. And now that he knew his warmth, the steadying hand, and how it felt like they were standing on the edge of something so fragile, that the slightest breath could make it all fall apart.

He realized then that he could not do without this.

“Then tell me, my prince.” Beomgyu replied, pulling away to look him right in the eyes, noticing how dilated the alpha's pupils got just at the one look.

The way their bodies fit together, so naturally, so right, made the space between their hearts feel impossibly small. 

Suddenly, Yeonjun pressed his lips to Beomgyu’s temple in a soft peck. And the omega felt a rush flood through his body at the feeling, the warm breath against his skin.

His calloused fingers trailed down the omega’s long hair and then down his back, sending shivers through him with every touch.

"This may be selfish of me, I know what I promised you," Yeonjun sighed frustratedly, "But even then I do not want to lose you."

It was too much. The touching, the words, the heat. It was all too much. For a moment, Beomgyu almost let himself fall into the words. Almost but no. He couldn’t, not yet. He couldn’t allow himself to slip into the hope that maybe, just maybe, Yeonjun was saying something else.

He had to remind himself of their places in the world and the future that was already hurling quickly towards them. 

“Please don’t say that so lightly,” He replied while he pulled back, his hands falling to his sides, “Words like that mean more to me than you think, my prince.”

Beomgyu did not mean to be so honest with what he felt and to let go of the alpha, but he couldn’t help but say the words. That false hope did not do him any good.

He cannot handle it when the prince says things without much care or thought, and not knowing what it does to the omega, how it messes with every part of his heart and body.

The prince’s eyes darkened at that, his grip that still held on ever tightening slightly, "What makes you think I’m saying this lightly?”

Beomgyu felt like he could not hide the conflict inside him. He felt like it was consuming him.

So, he stepped away even more, shaking his head as though trying to push the feelings aside, but the room felt too small and he felt confined. But in the very next moment, reality came crashing down on him. He wasn’t the crown prince’s equal. He was nothing but a servant, a lowly omega. 

“I should not have—” His voice faltered as he tried to push away from Yeonjun’s grasp.

He could feel the prince’s touch lingering on him, a reminder of everything he couldn’t have.

“Beomgyu.” The alpha’s voice was gentle, “Don’t run away from me now. Not when we have spent long far apart and there is so much we have yet to talk about”

Beomgyu shook his head, the distance between them felt like miles, but it was nothing compared to the distance that was already beginning to grow in his heart. He had crossed a line tonight. 

“I’m sorry,” He whispered, eyes downcast, “It was wrong of me to... to let you hold me like that.”

Yeonjun’s expression only softened at the words, pity somewhere mixed there too.

How could he let himself get closer to an omega who only lived a life far from others? Who lived a life thinking he did not deserve to be near others? How do you show someone who has been told he is undeserving of care, what it is like to be cared for?

“Why are you apologizing? I held you back, didn’t I?,” The alpha began, trying to reason with him, “Listen I—”

“You must rest now, my prince.” But Beomgyu cut him off painfully, “You’ve had a long journey. Rest now and I…I’ll see you in the morning. We can talk then.”

The words felt like a way to procrastinate his own emotions. He could feel Yeonjun’s eyes on him but he didn’t dare look up. The thought of staying any longer and allowing Yeonjun to hold him, to touch him again, was too much. 

The echo of his mother’s voice, her agonized hopes for a love that could never be, burned in his mind. She had loved a man who she could never publicly love. She loved a man whose life was bound to a destiny far greater than her’s.

And if he continued down this path and tempted life and its cruelty, he would end up the same way his own mother did. And he refused that fate.

And the alpha, whose cedar and cinnamon smelled of pure frustration, suddenly eased in all his kindness. He knew not to push, that a budding flower must be cared for gently.

Yeonjun sighed softly, ‘Then I shall see you tomorrow, Beomgyu. Rest well.”

And the omega bowed lowly and made his way towards the doors, in a need to just leave. It is ironic, is it not? How much he wished to be near the alpha, and now that he was, all he wanted to do was leave, overwhelmed by the love he felt.

Beomgyu did not turn back to look at him as he walked out, though a part of him wanted to more than anything.

After that day, the following ones leading up to the Spring Festival also the day of Yeonjun’s coronation, were similar to that of a strange and careful limbo.

Easily, Beomgyu fell back into his old rhythm of being the alpha’s servant and he carried out his duties the same as he always did, never once allowing his hands to tremble or letting his voice waver.

And yet, beneath it all, he felt himself fraying, his own restraint pressing into his very body and soul.

He was torn.

As much as he wanted to cherish these days, to steal whatever remnants of time they had left before Yeonjun ascended the throne and fulfilled the fate he was born into, he could not bring himself to look him in the eye for too long.

It was unbearable, the way Yeonjun gazed at him as if he was expectant, searching, as though waiting for Beomgyu to say something, to acknowledge the things they wrote, the things they felt. 

But Beomgyu did not speak of it, not once. Because it was difficult, conflicting—the emotions he felt. And he could not dare to explain it to anyone, even Soobin.

How was he supposed to explain how ardently he loves Yeonjun, to the point where he is willing to forsake his own freedom, and yet how against he is even muttering a word about it?

Instead of freeing his emotions, he rather pretended not to notice the way the alpha sometimes reached for him as if forgetting himself, only to still his own hand and retreat into formality again. He ignored the way his own chest tightened whenever he caught the alpha watching him. 

And before he knew it, caught up in this strange limbo, the day arrived.

Hanyang had never been more alive.

The capital was filled with celebration, its streets flooded with people from all over the land who had traveled days, weeks even, to witness the moment a new king would be crowned.

Banners of red and gold hung from rooftops, vendors called out in the streets, selling sugared persimmons and silk talismans meant to bless the reign of the soon-to-be king. But within the palace walls, beyond the grand halls, Beomgyu stood in Yeonjun’s chambers, preparing the alpha for the day he had been dreading.

It felt as if the world had shrunk to the space between them.

The prince stood expectant and tense and the omega was close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his skin, cedar filling his nose.

Beomgyu was only here for one reason, to dress the prince in his coronation robes. He smoothed out the heavy crimson silk draped over Yeonjun’s shoulders.

The robes were regal with golden dragons so beautifully woven they looked as if they might come to life beneath the light. Each layer held the tradition of centuries of kings before him, and Beomgyu felt it as he fastened the knots around Yeonjun’s waist.

But most of all, it was silent. Deadly silent, as if any word be the end of them both.

His fingers then grazed the silk, knuckles brushing against the warmth of the alpha’s stomach beneath the fabric. And he could feel the prince tense even more at the touch.

The omega swallowed hard, “You must be eager for the hour to arrive, my prince.” 

He spoke so quietly as if speaking any louder might shatter the world around them. But he needed to say something, anything that would ease this moment..

Yeonjun let out a slow breath, “Eager is not the word I would use.”

“Perhaps nervous, then?”

Yeonjun did not answer immediately. Instead, his eyes remained fixed on Beomgyu, watching the way the omega’s hands moved over his regalia, how they traced the embroidery, and then he hummed, deep in his throat, not quite agreement but not quite denial.

Beomgyu ignored the way that hum sent a shiver down his spine. He focused instead on the finishing touches, the last adjustments to the ceremonial robes that would mark the beginning of Yeonjun’s reign.

But the air between them grew foggier with each passing second, as if waiting for one of them to break.

Then Yeonjun spoke, with both curiosity and something akin to amusement, “Will you continue to call me my prince after this?”

Beomgyu’s fingers stilled and he looked up then, eyes meeting. He then huffed slightly under his breath, “Would you prefer that, my prince?” 

Yeonjun’s lips curved, but it wasn’t quite a smile. He shook his head once, and the omega couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow.

He tilted his head in deep thought, “Then  would my king suit you better?”

When he looked back to the prince, he saw it then. The way Yeonjun’s posture eased. His scent which felt restrained, softened, cinnamon and cedarwood wrapping around Beomgyu like the first breath of warmth on a winter morning.

“I had forgotten how cute you could be, Beomgyu.” The alpha hummed, “But I prefer none of those, really,”

Beomgyu ignored the way his heart began to pump louder in his ears at the compliment, feeling his cheeks turn red,  “Then what would you prefer?”

Yeonjun did not answer right away. Instead, he took a step closer, the space between them narrowing, “I would like for you to call me by my name.”

A shiver went down the omega’s spine at the thought of it and he shook his head, “My prince, you know I cannot do that.” He said barely above a whisper.

The alpha tilted his head, “Why not? You refuse to call me hyung, so why not my name? You will no longer be my servant soon enough, so there is no need for titles.”

“Perhaps, but regardless I am still not…”, Beomgyu swallowed, the words he were to say felt heavy on his tongue because they bordered on a lie, “A noble.”

Yeonjun scoffed, crossing his arms against his chest, “Now, you know I do not care for that. I believe we are close enough for you to call me by name, as I do you.”

“But that is different, my prince. We have discussed this before.” 

The alpha took a step forward, “But we have not,” He countered, voice quieter now before silence overtook them once more.

“Just once. Before I step out into the world where thousands wait for a new me, say my name. Once.”

The room felt unbearably small, the heat of Yeonjun’s body just barely brushing against his own. Beomgyu clenched his hands at his sides, nails pressing into his skin as if pain alone could keep him tethered.

His alpha was waiting, and so, at last, Beomgyu exhaled.

“Well,” he murmured, reaching out to adjust the final piece of fabric, “I believe you are ready to go out there…Yeonjun hyung.”

The words felt foreign in his mouth, like a curse word he was never supposed to utter. And immediately he regretted it, but that regret melted away when he held gazes with the prince and the way he reacted.

It was slight, just a flicker in his eyes, but Beomgyu saw it.

The way his pupils dilated, the way his lips parted just slightly, the way satisfaction and something far more intimate lightened in the depths of his eyes. A real smile, rare and unguarded, tugged at his lips, and Beomgyu could not look away.

“I am missing one thing, though,” Yeonjun murmured lower now, as if it was just for the two of them.

He turned away before Beomgyu could ask, moving toward a small drawer. Inside of it, he pulled out a small black pouch. Yeonjun turned back and opened it up, and the sight of what was in it made him inhale sharply.

A ruby necklace. 

The same one the alpha had given him long ago, the one both of them had worn for one another, and the one Beomgyu had thrown into the snow that day.

“You… kept it?” He couldn’t help but ask, shock etched in his tone.

Yeonjun stepped forward, eyes softening, “Of course I did. I… I wore it every day of my journey.”

The omega hesitated as he felt his hands curling at his sides. Slowly, Yeonjun extended the necklace to him, the delicate chain gleaming between his fingers.

“I regret ever making you upset enough to tear it off,” Yeonjun admitted quietly, “And, at the time, I could not bear the thought of losing this necklace, as well as you. So, I kept it.”

Beomgyu’s fingers trembled as he took it, the metal cool against his skin. He hesitated before stepping closer and closer, until there was barely any space between them.

Lifting the chain, he reached up, looping it around Yeonjun’s neck, his pheromones enveloping him as he fastened the clasp. His fingers brushed against the warm skin at the base of Yeonjun’s throat and he felt the way the alpha stilled for a moment.

Beomgyu let his hand linger for just a second longer than necessary before pulling back. His lips parted as he tried to find the words to say. His heart was beating so fast that he felt it was to explode any moment now.

When he looked up at the alpha, who only stared back so expectantly, he felt the need to say something. In this space between them where only they existed, before they had to step out into a world that fought against them. 

He felt the words stuck in his throat, Don’t leave me, hyung. They struggled against his psyche, Don’t love anyone else but me. All his selfish desires wanting to be voiced out of pure desperation. I love you, I love you, please love me—

But as his vision settled onto where they were, the Palace of the Monarch, and in front of him stood a soon-to-be-king wearing clothes of quality that he could only dream of wearing, and reality steeled in, Beomgyu could only smile.

A sad, small smile. And when he finally spoke, his voice was gentler than before, a bitter honey and orange blossom sweetening the air.

“Let us not think of that time,” he sighed, “Not now. We have much ahead of us, don’t we?”

And then that deathly silence overcame them once more. Yeonjun did not answer. He only stared at him—long and quiet, unblinking.

Before he reached out and grabbed the omega’s arm, a light touch, and then squeezed it gently. Beomgyu felt his eyes widen slightly at the gesture because it felt filled with an emotion he could not decipher.

Then the alpha turned, his robes swaying with the movement, and fate upon his shoulders.

He walked toward the door, opened it, and left the space which could have very well been the last time the two ever existed alone with one another.

And all Beomgyu could do was watch, his hand clutching the part of his arm that was touched as his heart broke a little more.

———

Outside the royal grounds, the city of Hanyang exploded with celebration.

The streets fluttered with the fragrance of spring, and the smoky scent of festival food roasting over open flames. Silk banners of crimson and gold fluttered in the air, people gathered in the thousands, shoulder to shoulder, their voices rising in unison as they chanted his name.

"Jeonha! Jeonha! Our Jewel of Joseon! Our new king, Choi Yeonjun!"

The title was no longer a distant promise between the people. No, today, the boy who had once been Crown Prince Yeonjun, the son of a grieving queen, the heir of a kingdom who needed to be rejuvenated stood at the threshold of his fate. A new light, a new hope.

It had been some time since the kingdom had seen such joy.

The shadow of loss had stretched long after the passing of King Hyunseok, draping the land and people in mourning. But today, the sorrow was lifted since their alpha prince had returned, and now, he was to be their king. Beomgyu had been preparing himself for this day since the moment he found out Yeonjun was to ascend.

He knew it would be a difficult day for him due to the feelings he harbored, but now that the day came, he found it even harder to deal with.

More because this day truly highlighted the vast difference between them in this world. The second he walked out afterwards, their paths had diverged. Yeonjun had to walk this path alone and he had to step forward without him.

Beomgyu’s place was among the court servants, behind the royal family, watching from the shadows as the coronation proceeded. He had known this but still when Yeonjun walked ahead, when the last trace of warmth between them faded with distance, Beomgyu felt the ache of it deep in his bones.

His arm still carried the ghost of Yeonjun’s grip, where the alpha’s fingers had pressed into his flesh before they parted, as if he had wanted to hold on.

But it was too late now.

The procession moved through the grand square of the royal palace, where the ceremony would be held. A place sacred, ancient, where generations of kings before him had once stood, history was written into the very stones of the courtyard.

And now, it was Yeonjun’s turn.

The drums sounded first, deep and resonant, shaking through the earth and marking each of his steps as he ascended the ceremonial platform. The chanting softened into a hush, thousands of eyes upon him as he knelt before the royal ministers, the highest scholars, and the queen herself.

Queen Eunyoung sat at the forefront, her hands trembling in her lap. She had been composed all morning, but now that her first son was before her, now that the throne which was once held by her beloved was about to settle upon him—her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Yeonjun’s siblings stood nearby. They looked at him fondly, faces bright with adoration, pride shimmering in their expressions as they watched their brother kneel before the sacred relics of their ancestors. 

The court minister stepped forward with a powerful, rich voice,

"Choi Yeonjun, first born of Choi Hyunseok, and rightful heir to the throne, do you swear upon the blood of your ancestors, upon the gods who watch over our land, to serve and protect the kingdom of Joseon, to uphold its honor and shield its people?"

"I do," he said, voice steady, clear, ringing through the square like a bell.

Beomgyu could not help the way his hands clenched at his side.. The minister turned, lifting the ceremonial scroll, reading aloud the royal decree of succession. Beomgyu had heard it before, in lessons, but hearing it in person was a feeling like none other.

It only made the reality of his own situation more dreadful and heavy, the truth of Yeonjun being a king, higher than the average man, unraveling around him.

And then came the crown. A relic of kings before him, adorned with jade and gold, the legacy of an entire nation. Slowly, with careful hands, the minister lifted it.

The world seemed to still, and as the crown was placed upon Yeonjun’s head—

It was no longer Crown Prince Yeonjun.

It was King Yeonjun.

The words felt something out of a fantasy, a phrase that did not belong near him, and one that meant the end of everything. A sound erupted from the crowd, roaring applause, cheers, cries of joy that echoed through the very skies.

"Jeonha! Jeonha! Manse! Manse! Manse!"

Their king. Their beacon. Their ruler. Beomgyu swallowed against the unsettling feelings in his chest. The festival would begin soon now that the coronation was over. Hanyang would be even more alive with celebration, music, and revelry that would stretch until the sun dipped below the horizon.

But Beomgyu could only stand there, watching as the boy he once hated, the man he now loves stepped into the place where he could never follow.

The deafening cheers rang in his ears, the people’s voices blending into a song of celebration. Yeonjun had disappeared, his figure swallowed by the procession of royal attendants and noble officials.

Beomgyu could not follow him, but his eyes remained fixed on the place where Yeonjun had vanished.

He wanted nothing more than to see him, but he was not allowed to. Chances were, by this time tomorrow, he would no longer be living on these very grounds. 

Then, suddenly, a sharp tug at his arm broke his thoughts.

Beomgyu stumbled forward with a startled gasp as his feet barely caught himself before he turned, bewildered, only to find Soobin grinning at him in that unmistakable boyish way of his.

"Come along now! We must not miss the festivities," The alpha declared, already dragging him towards the palace gates with the force of someone entirely too eager.

Beomgyu blinked, still half-lost in his thoughts, "What— Hyung, what are you—?" 

His head snapped back, just in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of Yeonjun, who was being guided towards an carriage. For a brief moment, he swore their eyes met, but then, the new king disappeared into the carriage, and the doors shut behind him.

Beomgyu exhaled sharply, "Why do you not ask Lord Huening to go with you instead?" he muttered, glancing at Soobin with mild irritation as he struggled to keep up with the taller alpha’s strides.

He did not want to attend the festival for several reasons.

One, it would just be more a blatant reminder that the future he dreaded was here since Yeonjun would be sitting at the center of it all, and all the festivities were in honor of not only spring, but also of his coronation.

And two, he was socially awkward, never the type to socialize or enjoy these sorts of things. He was used to serving, being in the background, hosting festivity rather than enjoying them.

Soobin turned to him with a deadpan look, utterly unimpressed. "Do you truly believe he would agree to that?"

The omega considered it for a second and then laughed. "No, I suppose not."

Before the rest of the royal entourage could even take their leave, Soobin was already pulling him through the city streets. The sun hung high in the sky in the late afternoon and every street was filled with hundreds of people.

With a whiff, he could smell the aromas of honeyed rice cakes, skewers, and fresh fruit. The sound of flutes and drums filled the space between the chatter of merchants and the laughter of children who ran about, weaving between dancing performers in brightly colored masks.

There was no doubt, spring had kissed the city awake and the coronation did nothing but keep it so.

Beomgyu allowed himself to breathe it in for just a second, to let the joy of the people soak into his skin. It had been a long time since he saw Hanyang burn so brightly.

By the time they reached the heart of the festival, the grand square was already brimming with townsfolk, all gathered beneath the banners of Joseon’s new era. At the center stood a raised platform, draped in deep crimson and there, already seated and surrounded by several people, was King Yeonjun.

His arrival had been faster than theirs. The royal carriage had outpaced their flight through the streets, and now, there he sat in his shining crown. But Beomgyu could not get a good look at him, not because he chose to, but because he physically could not as the man’s brother was taking up his attention.

"Come, come!" Soobin waved impatiently, leading him further into the square, "I have not yet decided where to begin. Perhaps the skewered beef, or no, the dumplings. Have you seen them, Beomgyu? They are the finest during spring. Or perhaps the sweet rice cakes!"

Beomgyu sighed, allowing himself to be dragged along and listening to Soobin ramble on about the countless delicacies he wished to devour, but the feelings in his chest had not fully lifted.

"Hyung," he interjected, forcing Soobin to pause mid sentence, "Should you not be celebrating with your family? This is a momentous day for them and yet you are here with me."

The alpha stopped and then in a tone lighter, he replied, "Beomgyu, I have been solely around my family for weeks now. I would much prefer to celebrate with my best friend, if only for a while."

Beomgyu stared at him as the words “best friend” settled into his head. There was something about Soobin’s voice that struck him in a way he had not anticipated. He had never truly thought about it before, how much the alpha regarded him, and how he had made a place for him in his life.

His heart clenched, not with sorrow, but with a fondness he hadn’t felt before. It soothed the ache within, just slightly, but the idea of being someone’s best friend felt nice. 

"…Very well," He relented with a small smile playing at his lip, "For a while, then."

Soobin grinned, "Good. Now, the dumplings first."

And just like that, amidst the light and the laughter of the people, Beomgyu allowed himself to be pulled forward, if only to forget, if only to cherish the fleeting happiness of the present.

The evening came faster than he anticipated. They had left the square at first to see everything else leading up into it. At night, there would be a dance of sorts so they decided to enjoy everything else first.

And truly, they had done everything—stuffed themselves full with skewers dripping with honey glaze, clapped along to the storytellers weaving old legends, even challenged each other to a pitiful attempt at a bow and arrow stall, both missing their marks far too often to be anything but shameful. 

And as the night progressed, so did their use of liquor.

Beomgyu felt the burn of alcohol in his veins, his limbs lighter than they had been in weeks, his heart, just for tonight, felt less burdened. Soobin was beside him, grinning wildly, his cheeks tinged red from both the liquor and the evening air.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Beomgyu let himself be pulled into the chaos of it all.

“You’re going to regret this tomorrow,” The alpha chuckled though he made no move to stop him, instead tipping another generous pour into Beomgyu’s metal cup.  

The omega grinned, knocking it back again, “And whose fault is that, hyung? You’re the one who keeps handing them to me.”  

He had been drunk before, alone and curious as a teen, and he knew from that experience he had somewhat of a good tolerance.

He was glad that they were actually doing things and eating, as well as drinking, so he didn’t feel very drunk, but it was still present in the way the omega slurred his words slightly. 

Soobin only laughed, clapping him on the back before his gaze drifted somewhere over Beomgyu’s shoulder.

The omega followed his line of sight, and his gaze lifted on instinct, seeking out the one figure he always yearned for, and there, upon the raised throne at the heart of the square, sat Yeonjun in the same place he sat hours ago.

He had not seen him properly until now. Now, seated upon that chair, his coronation robes still draped over his broad shoulders, the golden embroidery gleaming under the festival lanterns—he looked untouchable, like every bit the king he had been destined to become.

Townspeople gathered before him, their faces alight with admiration, bowing as they offered gifts and words of blessing.

There were silk pouches filled with medicinal herbs, small paintings of his likeness, even bundles of fabric embroidered with his royal sigil. And he accepted them all with a graceful smile and it was the face of a man meant for the throne.

Beomgyu suddenly felt the ache to be near him. The liquor in his system did nothing to suppress the yearning, it only made it worse.

“Do you always dress up pretty like this,” Soobin mused aloud with a sideways glance at him, “or is it just for tonight?”

Beomgyu blinked at the sudden question, glancing down into the shimmering red surface of his drink. “Pretty?” he echoed, unsure whether to laugh or dismiss the notion.

But the prince merely chuckled, “I meant what I said. You look nice tonight, Beomgyu. Exceptionally so.”

Beomgyu felt himself startle slightly at the sudden compliment, his fingers tightening slightly around the cup.

He had taken extra care tonight, though he would never admit it aloud. His hanbok was one he’d been gifted by the queen long ago. He had stashed it away and never worn until now.

The robe, a soft pearly grey tinged with pale blue, hugged his frame, the hems and cuffs embroidered with white cranes in flight, their wings tipped in silver. Beneath it, a white jeogori tied snugly about his waist accentuated his figure.

And for once, he had let his hair down. Long and dark, it spilled across his shoulders falling all the way to his back. No pins, braids, or tie. Just him—undressed of status, yet more radiant than he had ever dared to be in the king’s presence.

“Don’t say things like that to me,” he murmured, gaze dropping as he pretended to adjust the cuff of his sleeve. “You’ll embarrass me.”

“I’m simply telling the truth,” Soobin said with a grin, “I think even the nobles paused when you walked past. And I’m sure the our new king noticed.”

At that, Beomgyu’s chest tightened again.

Soobin, ever perceptive despite his intoxication, caught the shift in his expression and leaned in with a knowing smirk, “Have you even spoken to Yeonjun hyung yet?”

Beomgyu forced his eyes away, “…About what?”

He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief, “About how you feel, idiot.”

A dry chuckle slipped from Beomgyu’s lips, and he tipped his cup to his mouth and downed the last remnants of the rice wine before replying,

“You know very well, hyung, that I cannot do such a thing. Not only is he king now, but he…” He hesitated, swallowing against the bitterness that rose in his throat. “…He is to be married soon. There is no point.”

Soobin said nothing at first and Beomgyu could feel his eyes on him, smoldering with something close to pity. Then, a sigh. 

“You two,” He muttered, “Must I really take matters into my own hands?” 

At the words, the omega could only frown, “What do you mean?”  

Soobin only smiled, but there was a devious glint in his eyes that sent a prickle of unease down his spine, “You’ll see.”  

Before he could press further, a sudden blare of horns echoed through the courtyard, signaling the official start of the main festivities. The crowd erupted into cheers as the announcer’s voice boomed over them:  

“The time has come! Let the dancing commence! May the gods above bless this night of celebration, as we welcome a new reign under our beloved king!”

The musicians struck up a lively tune, the beat of drums and the bright pluck of strings filling the air. Almost instantly, the sea of people shifted, nobles and commoners alike pairing off, their movements fluid and practiced as they fell into the familiar steps.  

Beomgyu’s eyes caught on Lord Kang Taehyun, the alpha lord spinning gracefully alongside none other than Lord Huening Kai. The younger alpha was laughing, his steps clumsy but enthusiastic as Taehyun guided him with an amused smile.  

He turned to see if Soobin had noticed, only to find the alpha tipping another pot of rice wine into his cup with a hard stare.

The omega could help but laugh, “Hyung, if you keep glaring like that, you’ll burn a hole through your own cousin’s back.”  

Soobin scowled, shoving the last of the rice wine into Beomgyu’s hand, “Finish this.”  

The omega obeyed and drained the cup with a sigh. And then, for the first time that night, the crowd before the stage parted just enough for him to see Yeonjun clearly and unobstructed.

Their eyes met. It was brief, fleeting and yet his chest swell with warmth as he saw the now king smile softly at eye contact. Even in a crowd as full as this one, thousands of people surrounding them, they are still able to find one another.

But Beomgyu barely had time to process the moment before strong arms wrapped around his waist, yanking him backwards. 

“Do you know how to dance, Beomgyu?”  

“I—sort of,” he admitted, blinking up at the alpha in surprise, “I always watched others growing up, but never properly done so myself.”  

He turned his face back to the throne, to Yeonjun and his breath hitched.

The king was staring directly at them. No longer distracted by well-wishers, Yeonjun’s eyes were fixed on where Soobin’s hands rested against Beomgyu’s waist. His expression was unreadable, fingers curled tight around his own goblet.  

Beomgyu panicked for some reason, he raised a hand in a hesitant wave. For a heartbeat, the alpha didn’t react. Then, slowly, he lifted his fingers in the barest acknowledgment just as Soobin’s grip tightened, yanking his attention back.  

“Well, I hope your observation serves you well,” The prince said and before Beomgyu could protest, he was being dragged onto the dance floor.  

The music swelled around them, the steps simple but spirited. Soobin moved with surprising grace for someone so tall, his hands firm as he guided Beomgyu through the motions.

The omega stumbled at first, laughing in embarrassment, but the alpha only grinned, pulling him along. He twirled him around with confidence, laughter bubbling from his lips every time Beomgyu faltered.

“Look at you, you fawn!” Soobin teased, guiding him through another spin, “You’re getting it!

And despite himself, Beomgyu felt it. Pure, unfiltered joy bubbling up in his chest as he matched Soobin’s steps, as the music thrummed through him, as the wind flowed through his unbridled hair. Maybe it was the liquor or maybe it was the atmosphere. But for the first time in so long, he wasn’t thinking, he was just living.  

Then, as was tradition, the dancers switched partners.  

One moment, he was spinning with Soobin, the next, he found himself face to face with Lord Kang Taehyun.  

Growing up, Taehyun was one of the very few people in relation to the royal family that treated him well. He never bullied or teased him, like most of the other cousins did. No, he was rather kind and even a bit more shy. But never malicious. Even during the hunt, Taehyun had greeted him with a smile.

Even now, the alpha lord was as composed as ever, his movements elegant as he took Beomgyu’s hands without hesitation. A glance to the side revealed Hueningkai now paired with Soobin, both of them flustered, their usual confidence replaced with bashful smiles.  

Taehyun chuckled near his ear,  “Those two, aren’t they silly?”  

He couldn’t help but laugh at the words, “Very much so, my lord. I think it’s quite obvious how they feel for one another.”  

Taehyun hummed, guiding him through a turn. “I agree.” A pause, “It’s funny hearing that coming from you, though, Beomgyu.”  

“What do you mean?” He blinked softly, as the alpha spun him around and continued dancing with him.

But the lord only teasingly smiled, “Think about it, and you’ll come to realize.”  

Before Beomgyu could even begin to process those words, the partners switched again, and he was back in Soobin’s hold.

He smirked, still catching his breath, "Disappointed that we switched?"

Soobin rolled his eyes, "Quiet, you."

And just like that, they fell back into the dance. 

The night was loud with music and happiness, and when the final notes of the song rang out, the entire square erupted in cheers. And that’s how it went on for a while, several dances and people coming together in celebration of the alpha on the throne.

As the night came to an end, the dances finally ending and the liquor in his system acting at a full high, he couldn’t help but give Soobin a hug, as well as both Lord Taehyun and Lord Huening Kai who all returned it happily. It was the most fun he had ever had in his life, all in one evening.

Breathless, Beomgyu turned and there Yeonjun was, still watching.

No longer the composed monarch whose smile had graced the day, Yeonjun looked transformed under the moonlight. There was something in his gaze, brooding and untethered that twisted the planes of his face into a mask far too human for a god-like king.

His eyes did not flinch, did not shift—they held Beomgyu like a vise, unblinking and dark. The half-drained cup in his hand trembled just slightly, though whether from liquor or emotion, Beomgyu could not say.

For a moment, everything around them ceased.

The sound and noise around him faded, the wind itself seemed to falter. And in that suspended world, Beomgyu watched as Yeonjun raised the cup to his lips, draining the remainder with a single, deliberate swallow. Still, his gaze did not waver, not once.

Then, the king stood.

He lifted a hand, and with that one motion, the crowd quieted immediately. Children paused mid-laughter, people froze in their steps, nobles turned with expectation in their eyes.

“My people,” Yeonjun’s voice rang out, deep and touched with something personal, “I thank you for your hearts and your spirits.”

He swept his eyes over the gathered crowd, not looking directly at Beomgyu, but somehow, the omega still felt it in his marrow, that invisible tether between them stretched thrumming.

“This has been a day of great joy, not only for myself,” he continued,

“but for the future we shall now share together. To witness every soul lit with merriment, fills me not only with pride, but with hope. This kingdom shall thrive, not by my hand alone, but by the strength of every hand I see before me tonight.”

A pause, brief but weighted, “Let this be only the beginning.” He offered a final bow to his people, “I bid you all rest well. You have given me more than you know.”

And as he turned from the stage, descending the stairs with his retinue behind him, the square erupted into life once more, cheers rang into the night air like bells, mingled with calls of his name and farewell blessings, flower petals thrown into the air like rain from children’s hands.

The omega could barely keep track of him, one moment he was walking away and the next, he was swallowed whole by his guards and other attendants.

“Beomgyu!” Soobin then turned him excitedly, “Taehyun and Huening Kai mentioned something about an after gathering. They’re going to meet in the tea house behind the jade pavilions, I think we should—”

But Beomgyu wasn’t listening. His ears were full of the roaring silence Yeonjun had left in his wake. His thoughts, fractured, tangled, desperate, tumbled over one another like water over rocks.

And suddenly it was all too much.

"Hyung," he interrupted, voice urgent, breath catching, "I…I must go. I am sorry, but—"

Soobin blinked, "Wait, what—?"

But the omega was already pulling away, his feet quick on the cobblestones, weaving through the press of bodies with barely an apology on his lips. For what? He did not know. But his heart was pounding, louder than the drums had ever been, louder than the cheers and chatter around him.

He had to see him now.

The desperation clawed up his body like fire, tearing through the warmth of the liquor in his veins. He reached the edge of the square just in time to see the royal carriage pulling away from the stage, guards on horseback flanking.

"No, wait!" he tried, pushing faster, dodging between the crowd of townsfolk still celebrating among one another but it was already too late.

The carriage turned the corner, disappeared into the path leading toward the main palace gates. Gone. Beomgyu stood still for one terrible moment, panting, hand clenched over the fabric of his chest as if he could steady the ache growing there.

And then he did what he knew how to do best and ran.

He turned from the main path, skirting around the steps, taking the side alleys he remembered from his boyhood, the stone routes only servants used to quickly get to the royal quarters. He didn’t dare think, he just moved.

The night air bit at his cheeks, cool and burning. His pants caught against his feet, the ends damp from the earth, but he didn’t care. The stone walls around him grew taller, the stars above narrowing as he approached the inner palace grounds.

He didn’t go to the main entrance, he knew the guards there would delay him. No, instead he veered toward the secluded southern corridor, the path that once led to the rear gates of the monarch’s residence. He had used it before when he used to work for Queen Eunyoung. 

But now, instead of duty, desperation guided his feet. Something fragile and wild and breaking. He didn’t know what he would say, or if Yeonjun would even see him. He only knew one thing:

The night was ending, and if he did not try, then nothing would ever be the same again.

———

The corridors of the palace were quiet now, hushed as though even the very stone dared not disturb the rest of the crown upon Yeonjun’s head. 

Beomgyu’s footsteps echoed lightly against the floor where he tried to hurry without stumbling, nerves buzzing harder than they should have, whether from the liquor or the emotions flooding every limb, he could no longer tell. 

There was something eerily familiar about this desperate walk, and for a moment, it made him falter.

It felt like a lifetime ago yet also just yesterday, when he had run through other halls to Yeonjun’s chamber after the prince stood up for him at the council meeting last August. That was the first time he’d seen Yeonjun burn with something resembling care. 

And here he was again, all these months later, drawn by the same unbearable pull though now, everything was completely different.

He stopped before the heavy doors to the royal chambers, chest heaving slightly. He hadn't knocked. He hadn’t yet summoned the courage to raise his hand. And yet he heard,

“You may enter,” came the voice from within, unmistakably Yeonjun's.

Beomgyu lips parted into a small smile. Of course. The alpha would know he was there before he’d even touched the wood. He knows me too well, he thought, a warmth blooming deep in his chest. No wonder he knew I would come.

And so he entered.

The doors creaked open on their hinges, revealing the interior of the king’s chambers, lit by only a few remaining lanterns. Beomgyu stepped in carefully, drawn to the figure that stood near the window, half-shrouded.

Yeonjun had shed the weight of his ceremonial robes, he now wore a simple white robe, the collar loose and falling slightly to reveal the smooth expanse of his collarbone, the cords of muscle at his neck. His dark hair was no longer perfectly styled, instead falling over his brow in disarray, and his cheeks were flushed with the sheen of wine across his skin. 

He held a silver goblet in his hand, and on the table, gleamed the ruby necklace. Most of all, the scent in the air was strong, cinnamon and cedarwood, more potent than Beomgyu had ever smelled it before. It clung to the air like smoke and want.

Beomgyu swallowed down the nerves and said with as much levity as he could muster, “Were you expecting me, my… king?”

The title felt wrong in his mouth, and Yeonjun didn’t answer.

He only watched him, still as a statue as he took a long, slow sip from his goblet. Beomgyu felt the silence close in and he hated it, the warmth in his chest now dying away. 

And so the omega laughed, a little awkwardly, shifting where he stood,

“Well… congratulations. I watched your coronation, I wasn’t sure if you saw me, but it was quite beautiful. Everyone looked so proud. Your mother… she nearly cried.”

But still, no words were said, just the same tension pressing on him. So he continued.

“And the festival,” Beomgyu was rambling now,

“It was just gorgeous. I’m sure your view was better than mine, but truly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Hanyang so alive. Children dancing, people singing your name. All for you. All in your honor. You deserve that, my ki—”

“Did you have fun, Beomgyu?”

The question was sharp, slicing clean through the air. Yeonjun’s voice was low but there was something darker and simmering beneath. It was not a question asked in kindness, no, it landed in the air like a blade.

He blinked, caught off guard by the question, “I’m sorry?”

Yeonjun took a step forward while finishing what remained of his wine in a single swallow.

“Because you were right. I had a perfect view from where I sat, and what I saw…” His eyes narrowed, “I saw you enjoying yourself. Laughing, dancing, all with my own brother.”

Beomgyu’s lips parted but the words wouldn’t come. He had not expected this twist of bitterness in the alpha’s voice, this cruel spark in his eyes, and the way cedar and cinnamon had now burned his nostrils.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh before,” Yeonjun continued, taking another step toward him,

“Not like that, at least, not in all the months I’ve known you. I had no clue you even knew how to dance, but you showed me tonight, didn’t you?”

The omega finally found his voice, confused, “My king… have I done something wrong? If I have offended you, I apologize, but I cannot understand—”

“Wrong?” He echoed, gaze sharpening. “Why what, Beomgyu? Why am I upset? Why am I watching you and feeling like—” he stopped, jaw tightening and then he laughed. 

It was cold and humorless and when it ended, he asked, “Do you take me for a fool?”

“What? Of course not, my king.” Beomgyu replied quickly, voice suddenly hoarse and chest tightening every passing second. 

It was obvious the king was speaking with a drunken mind, but it didn’t change the fact that the way he spoke felt pointed and sharp.

“Oh, but I think you do.” Yeonjun’s voice dropped to a low snarl. He stepped closer again, now only a few paces between them,

“You really don’t think I noticed the way you smiled at Soobin? The way he ran off with you, his hands all over you, touching what isn’t his?”

Beomgyu reeled, stunned by the accusation, the possessive venom in the alpha’s voice, “My king, do not tell me you are implying what I think you are implying.”

“I’m not implying anything,” He cut in sharply,

“I’m stating the things I observed. The way you call him hyung, the way he holds you like you belong to him… Tell me, Beomgyu. In those months I was gone, how close did the two of you get? Hm? Was he sweet to you? Did he keep you warm?”

“Stop—”

“You must have been happy, finally being held without shame.” The alpha continued mercilessly, taking a step with each word.

“My king, please—”

“Did you enjoy it, at least? Getting with an alpha finally—”

“Yeonjun!”

The name left Beomgyu’s lips like a slap, the sound echoing off the walls, silencing the air. His eyes shone with tears. The use of his given name, not a title, seemed to shatter whatever spell had taken hold of Yeonjun’s fury.

The alpha froze with his mouth still half-open, but no words came out. He blinked, the wildness in his expression fading as if Beomgyu’s voice had pulled him out of it, while his chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. 

And Beomgyu stood there, a storm of emotions writ across his face.

Hurt, betrayal, confusion, and something older, more helpless. The boy who had devoted everything to Yeonjun in both hatred and duty, and still loved him. The omega who had never once belonged to anyone but had given his heart all the same.

Then the omega spoke, body trembling slightly and his voice came breathless,

“Do you truly think so lowly of me?”

His words hung in the air, delicate and damning, and he could see the way Yeonjun’s face shifted, how something fragile cracked and guilt flooded in his eyes as if he, too, realized the cruelty of what he had said, the hurt he had caused.

“Have I not…” Beomgyu began, his voice shaking now with something between heartbreak and desperation,

“...have I not done all that I could to show you that I am loyal? Not just as your servant, but as someone who has stood by your side through it all?”

He did not give the alpha time to even respond, because the more he spoke, the more anger he felt. Perhaps it was the liquor or perhaps this was what they needed to break the strange limbo between them, but Beomgyu did not stop once.

“All these months, I have worked tirelessly to prove that I am worthy of the place you gave me. I bore the glares of the court, the whispers of your other servants who cannot stand me, and the scrutiny of simply being by your side. And still, even now, you accuse me—”

He took a deep breath in, voice shaking, “You accuse me of getting with your brother?”

He was crying again now, unable to stop it as honey and orange blossom fluttered bitterly throughout the chamber.

He bowed his head, letting the tears fall, “What more must I do? Tell me, my king, what more?”

Yeonjun exhaled harshly, raking his hand through his hair. The frustration on his face melted into torment, his lips parting as if to apologize but failing to find the words fast enough,

“Beomgyu, I… I did not mean to say such things. The liquor, my jealousy, it made me unkind and stupid, and I should not have said any of that. I apologize, truly.”

“Jealousy?” He echoed, his eyes lifting, red-rimmed and wide, “Is that what this is?”

Yeonjun stilled, shoulders tense, eyes locked onto his and it made the emotions in the room even more intense. 

“Yes,” he admitted quietly, as if the truth itself was too sacred to raise his voice. “I was jealous, no, I am jealous.”

The alpha continued, “When I saw you laughing with Soobin, when I saw his hands on you, I felt as though I were being torn open. You’ve never looked at me like that, Beomgyu. Never laughed so freely in my presence. I should not be jealous of my own brother, and yet…”

He took a step forward, and then another, until he was only a breath away, until the warmth of him pressed against Beomgyu like a summer sun, unbearable and alluring all at once. His hand lifted and found the omega’s cheek. His touch was not that of a king, but simply of a man aching.

“I hated that it wasn’t me near you,” Yeonjun murmured, “I hate that you look so goddamn beautiful tonight and everyone can see it. I want that for myself. I want to be the one to make you laugh, to make you smile like that. I want your eyes on me, only me.”

Beomgyu’s breath caught, his face burning and heart thundering. The feel of the alpha’s hand on his skin was a fever searing through him. The words were of a confession of some sort but Beomgyu refused to jump to conclusions about it.

“You needn’t be jealous,” he whispered back, lifting his own hand and covering the alpha’s where it rested on his cheek, holding it there, “You have no reason to be. Soobin is my friend, yes, someone I care for, someone I respect. But you…”

He stepped closer, closing the last inch between them until their foreheads nearly touched. His eyes never left Yeonjun’s, his voice firm despite the tremble that still lingered beneath it.

“You are his brother. And you must know of his love for Lord Huening Kai. Therefore, nothing has ever been anything between us. And more than that, there never could be not when I am already by your side.”

The alpha inhaled sharply like the wind had been knocked from his lungs, and the omega only continued with his words.

“Tell me, my king,” Beomgyu continued, the words spilling from his lips that were too long held shut, “What must I do? What must I do to make you believe that I am yours?”

The silence that followed was heavy as though the entire palace waited to exhale. Yeonjun stared at him, eyes wide and fingers curling slightly into his wrist.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Beomgyu’s gaze softened and though his cheeks burned and chest bundled with nerves, his voice was steady when he said, “I mean exactly that.”

And then he dropped his voice further, so quiet only the king could hear him and said, “I have told you before and it is up to you if you believe it or not, but…” He paused,

“I am yours, hyung, and I will always be yours.”

Yeonjun looked as though he had been struck, his breath caught and his hands found Beomgyu’s waist now, firm and trembling, and he pulled him against him as if to make certain he was real.

Their scents suddenly minged together, honey and cinnamon, and he felt something powerful unfurl in his chest, desire, yes, but also something ancient, a bond born of longing and love.

In that moment, in that chamber, there were two hearts too long held apart, now pressed so close they could scarcely tell where one ended and the other began.

But then, the weight of his own words came crashing down upon him like a tide pulled too far from shore, rushing back with violent clarity, leaving Beomgyu beneath the enormity of what he had just uttered. 

What had he done? What had he invited with those words? The gravity of them now pressed hard against his ribs, and his eyes flicked up to Yeonjun’s face, as if to gauge whether the alpha before him would answer with tenderness or send him away for daring to overstep.

“I should not have said that,” Beomgyu stammered quickly, voice beginning to fracture under the weight of fear and as the liquor began to dissipate, leaving a headache.

His hand, which had so willingly curled over the king’s wrist only moments before, now hovered uncertainly in the air, “Forgive me, I spoke too freely and I did not—”

But before he could draw another breath, suddenly he felt the taste of fiery cinnamon in his mouth, cedar embedding itself onto his skin. 

There was no more space between them, there was only Yeonjun, soft lips crashing onto Beomgyu without notice.

The kiss was not soft, no, it was hungry, laced with months of sleepless nights and glances that had burned holes into each other’s resolve. It was the kiss of a man who had spent too long denying himself and had finally lost the strength to keep pretending.

Beomgyu gasped into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut, his legs trembling slightly as Yeonjun’s desire pressed into him. The alpha’s scent flooded his senses, sinking and overwhelming and somewhere in the back of his mind, a sliver of logic screamed for him to stop before it was too late. 

But the voice was drowned beneath the tidal wave of sensation crashing over him.

Because his body remembered—oh, it remembered very well. 

Every night he had lain awake beneath the thin silks of his bedding, haunted by the brush of fingertips that had never touched him, the heat of a gaze that had never truly strayed. His omega, aching and starved, had burned for this.

And now, as Yeonjun began to kiss him like he meant to brand the memory into his soul, he could not bring himself to deny it any longer.

He had imagined this in secret, shamed himself for it, whispered apologies to no one for the things he dreamed of doing if Yeonjun ever reached for him like this.

And now he was.

Outside the chamber walls, the festival still raged on. The sound of firecrackers bursting like stars against the night sky filtered through the sky. But in this room, time stood still for just them. 

So, Beomgyu gave in. 

He pulled forward with a whimper, threading his hands into Yeonjun’s hair, dragging the king down further and deepening the kiss until it was filthy with want. He did not know what he was doing, but he hoped it was enough.

Yeonjun’s tongue swept into his mouth with a groan that sounded more like a growl, primal and claiming. A soft whimper escaped him as their mouths moved together, the alpha gripping his waist harder at the sound.

Their teeth clashed and Yeonjun backed him toward the nearest wall like he meant to pin him there for eternity. Beomgyu’s head tipped back as his spine met the wooden panels and Yeonjun pulled back, only slightly as their breaths mingled between their parted lips.

His voice, hoarse and raw with emotion, 

“Is this enough to show you I believe it?” He whispered lowly, hands tightening around his waist, “I already know you are mine, Beomgyu. You have always been mine, no need to prove it to me. Just let me prove it to you, alright?”

And before the omega could even respond, his lips that were already swollen and wet from their previous collision, were claimed once again with a growl that sounded like it had been scraped from the bottom of his soul.

He kissed Beomgyu truly breathless as though this time he would leave no part of the omega untouched, unmarked, unknown.

The omega moaned softly, a sound caught between surprise and need, high in the throat, trembling through his lungs. It vibrated into Yeonjun’s mouth and it only made the king feral.

The alpha kissed him harder, one arm slipping low to grip the back of Beomgyu’s ass, fingers sinking into the soft flesh through the fabric before he tugged until their hips aligned, and the friction of it made Beomgyu whimper aloud.

He could feel the alpha, how hard and solid he was as pressed against Beomgyu. Instinctively, the omega’s body responded without hesitation, hips arching forward seeking every touch. 

“Hyung, please—” Beomgyu whimpered at the movement. He did not know what he was even asking for but he could feel how desperate the alpha was for him, and it made something primal stir in him.

The sound of it seemed to undo the king. Yeonjun let out a low moan and he dipped his head to trail open-mouthed kisses along Beomgyu’s throat. He sucked softly at his jaw at first, and then down his neck, and towards the omega’s scent gland.

There, he lingered and nosed at it, though the very thought of tasting and claiming him was enough to undo the last threads of his control. 

Then, he licked a thick stripe over it, teeth grazing, not quite biting but teasing just enough to make Beomgyu go weak. That scent, dominating cinnamon and cedar wrapped around him as it filled his lungs and pulsed in his blood.

The omega’s hands found Yeonjun’s chest, fingers sliding beneath the loose shirt. His skin was hot and firm beneath his palms. His fingers traced the ridges of hard muscle, the curve of Yeonjun’s waist.

Soon enough, he was touching him all over his chest in an attempt to memorize every etch and divot of his body. The alpha groaned quietly against his lips from the lingering touches. He moved down and pulled the omega’s thigh up against his hip, wrapping it around himself to pull them closer, to grind their hips together.

Beomgyu gasped—loud, needy, head falling back against the wall with a soft thud. He could feel everything now.

Every hard inch of the king, every shift of muscle beneath his touch. Yeonjun was rutting against him, slow but deliberate, eyes half-lidded with hunger. The chamber was hot, aroused pheromones clouding the air and months of denied pleasure finally breaking through.

The sound of skin meeting skin, of lips and breath and low moans, it was all too intoxicating. He could feel the slick build up in his cunt, already running down his thigh and he was sure that the alpha could smell it. But he could also note the pure arousal in Yeonjun’s scent, and how it was undeniable both of them wanted more.

Yeonjun’s hand slid inside Beomgyu’s shirt at last, bare fingers brushing along the smooth skin of his side and up toward his ribs. The contact was so intimate, so raw and real, and he clutched the alpha’s shoulders to stay grounded. 

And then, suddenly something happened His thumb brushed just beneath the swell of Beomgyu’s chest, and something inside the omega snapped, like cold water over burning skin.

He froze as the haze shattered. His body was still pressed tightly to Yeonjun’s, their breaths on one another and his scent flooding his senses, but his mind was no longer in the room.

It was in the past.

His mother’s calloused hands, and her furt. His father’s name, spoken only in his secrets, hidden away in shame. The blood that flowed in his veins, nobility and a cursed lineage.

The cold reality of the mating ceremony that was to happen in a few weeks. The forbidden nature of his bond to this man. The distance between a crown and a handmaiden’s child.

He was nothing but an omega bound to his rank, and Yeonjun… his Yeonjun that he loved so dearly was now the king of Joseon. Their fates were never meant to align like this, and now that they have, the consequences would burn them both. The truth was as simple as that—they could never be.

His breath came unevenly, “No,” he shook his head as his hands pushed weakly against Yeonjun’s chest. “No, I—I cannot…”

The alpha stopped immediately and looked at him, confusion spreading quickly into concern, “Beomgyu, what’s wrong?”

But he felt his vision blur, panic filling his sense. And suddenly, everything felt wrong. Yeonjun noticed immediately and reached out to grab his shoulders, bring him in and soothe him. But the omega only shoved him harder this time, desperate, every nerve lit with terror, and Yeonjun stumbled backward, falling to the floor.

The omega stood there, trembling, his hands at his mouth, eyes wild, “I’m sorry,” his voice broke quietly, “I’m sorry, I… I cannot do this.”

And without waiting for a reply, without daring to look back, he turned and fled. He ran through the chamber, tears fluttering behind him like wings of a broken bird. The door flung open with a bang against the frame as he burst out into the corridor.

“Wait, fuck—” Yeonjun’s voice rang out after him, “Beomgyu, wait!”

The king scrambled to his feet, stumbled forward. He reached the doorway, hand braced on the frame, eyes darting into the darkened hall. But it was too late.

There was no echo of footsteps. No shadow at the end of the corridor. No sign of fluttering robes or the scent of the omega he loves.

Only silence.

Yeonjun stood alone, chest heaving, lips parted, heart thundering in his ears as the reality set in that Beomgyu was now gone. And the taste of him still lingered on his tongue like a dream he would never again be allowed to touch.