Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

”Bang-won!”

At the rattle of Bang-won's own name, a seldom felt pulse sparked in Bang-won's stomach. It rippled outward, filling him with ideas he had fully intended not to act on. He had meant to let Seon-ho go, to make him watch the world Bang-won built, hopefully with Hwi still by his side. He wanted Seon-ho to feel every thread of Bang-won’s success, every iota of his own failure.

Seon-ho needed to live for that. But did he need to be free?

Bang-won turned then, taking in the promise of retribution that drenched Seon-ho's deep gaze – which was as strangely appealing as the crown of blood that poured gradually down his face. There was an undeniable heat to the man's youthful features all twisted up in hate, a heat that did not stop at Seon-ho. The man's passion devoured all around him, and it was invigorating to think he wished to see Bang-won drown in his own supposed arrogance.

It made Bang-won wish to see Seon-ho drown instead. To keep him alive, and close, long enough to watch him deteriorate. How long would it take for him to admit he lost? That he was nothing in the span of it all – just his father's mistake?

Without being taken out of the picture entirely, Seon-ho was an unstoppable force. The notion of keeping him subdued enough to be kept close was as daunting as it was enticing. He would snarl and snap. He would buck and bite. Bang-won could readily imagine the beast he would become when fettered. And he wanted very much to bear witness.

“I found something of yours in your father's room. I intended to burn it, along with the rest of Nam Jeon's useless things. Would you like to see what it is?”

Seon-ho did not seem impressed. “Nothing of my father's matters to me.”

A bubble of laughter siphoned up from Bang-won's chest. It cracked down Seon-ho's temples, his whole face dragged down.

“Doesn't it?” Bang-won turned to Tae Ryeong, nodding his head with a silent command. A paper was handed to him, one he opened only to hover it in front of Seon-ho.

At first, he resisted reading with a roll of his eyes. If merely due to proximity, he started to take it in. Dark eyes darted up and down mindlessly for a few seconds before they turned serious. His gaze snapped to the right, then the left, and the right once more. His throat bobbed precariously, and Bang-won knew Seon-ho had processed precisely what this was.

“You were never put on your father's registry because you are not a free man,” Bang-won said without a smile, letting his words speak for themselves.

It was so simple, the saturated awareness that overtook Seon-ho's face. Pleasant a sight as he was on his knees, tied like this, it was the devastation swirling about the horizon of his eyes that Bang-won liked most.

Bang-won snapped his fan and crouched down to be virtually even-eyed with Seon-ho. “Whoever has this paper, has your life. And I was going to burn it without you ever even knowing. Gift you with a chance for a second life, in my country. I was going to let you go, for Hwi's sake. But perhaps you're right. It would be better for me to deal with you now instead of later.”

Seon-ho looked as though all air had been torn from his lungs. Stunned was a good look for him, and it made Bang-won even more sure he wanted Seon-ho close enough to poke and prod and watch.

Bang-won’s smile was slow. He swayed as he stood, “Have him taken to my residence.”

As in all things, Seon-ho did not go easy. He struggled, even while clearly woozy from the hit to his head. In the end, he was knocked back out. Bang-won tried not to think about the pretty loll of his head when he collapsed, focusing instead on determining the fate of the rest of the men who supported Nam Jeon.

~~

The first thing Seon-ho registered as he stirred to wakefulness was that his head hurt – as though he'd been bashed into a wall a couple of times. He recalled quickly that batons were as hardy as stone if wielded by the right person, and he had been hit at least three times. He was lucky to have his brains still encased in his skull.

But he was surely not lucky to be here; slowly, he remembered where he must be. There was smooth wood under his still tied hands. He was also wearing the same clothes, the blue robe and thick pants. In fact not much was different. He still felt the stick of tacky blood on his face, a void of hunger in his stomach. But there was a scarce haze of alcohol, the forced sleep all but rending that blanket from him.

The sobriety was necessary now. He had to figure out a way.

He looked around the room, shocked that it was not a dungeon or a shack. It was rather nicely furnished, bright colors and paintings everywhere. He was not done taking it all in when someone entered. It was a woman, dressed as a servant with Bang-won's colors – maroon and red, the hues subtly varying.

She gave him an immediately exasperated look, “They did not even bother to clean you up... Of course. They want me to do all the work. Well I can tell you'll run if I try to, so I suppose I have to do this the hard way.”

She didn’t even grace him a chance to respond before vanishing. Seon-ho tested his restraints, sure that if he tried to leave there were guards outside. It did not take long for the woman to return anyways, and with her she brought water, rags, and a change of clothes. The same maroon-red but a different style from hers. Seon-ho recognized the cut – the simple indication of a slave from a servant.

She was also not alone. Two other servants were with her. Men, and clearly there to be the bulk that kept Seon-ho subdued as she made him presentable. And that is precisely what happened. Seon-ho kicked and shoved his full body weight, but the men pinned him down while the woman used the rags to clean his face off. She removed his clothing after taking a knife to the cloth, not letting him be untied until the very end.

He managed to escape the hold just once before he was forced back down, arms spread wide by the two men while the woman dressed him in slave's clothes. He felt like a doll, and realized quickly he was worth just a little more than one if this were all true.

He recalled the letter. His birth certificate, with the notation that a slave mother had slave children.

He should have known his father would not get rid of such prime blackmail. Not years ago, and certainly not now, seeing as Seon-ho was to be his next enemy and he knew it. Seon-ho should have known better than to believe Nam Jeon officially acknowledged him in every way after he sacrificed Hwi to the judges – to the muck of Liaodong – all those years ago. His father was too good at keeping every possible weapon tight to his chest.

After Seon-ho was made decent, his arms were tied once more behind his back.

The woman gave him a once over, reaching out to straighten parts of his clothes. She paid particular attention to his hair, clucking, “I washed it as best as I could with all your wriggling, but this really is a rat's nest. But I was told to leave it long. What a mess...”

Told to leave it long? By who, Bang-won? If so, then it was yet another insult.

They left him there then, heaving from the feckless effort to escape. He tried the door, but it was locked from the outside. He heard the rustle of guards and realized bitterly that all he could do was wait.

~~

It was in the middle of the night that someone came to retrieve him. The timing must have been intentional, seeing as Seon-ho was exhausted enough to scarcely put up a fight as he was led somewhere else. Not just anywhere – the kitchen to be exact.

The reason settled almost immediately. There were baskets of vegetables, basins of water, and then empty baskets presumably for the clean vegetables to be placed in. In the middle was a cleared space on the ground, and next to it a fastened pole that arced up into the ceiling. Around it was a chain with an open manacle, one that was fastened around Seon-ho's ankle just before his arms were released.

The sound he made at the sudden freedom was embarrassing, but he could not blame himself. Muscles he didn't even know existed popped and burned, his whole upper torso on numbing fire. While he was dealing with that process, the woman who dressed him returned.

“You are to wash these vegetables, and put them in the baskets. Easy. I'll come back in an hour.”

Though she ordered him about, she never shared her name. Seon-ho didn't care anyways. He had no plans of doing as he was told – surely Bang-won knew that.

In an hour when the woman came back and sighed at the lack of work, she gave him a pitying look.

“It would be better if you just give in. It is only vegetables! But you'll figure that out.”

She left, and he heard her voice softly outside the door. Then there was comparative silence until morning. Seon-ho nodded off here and there but largely stayed awake. At some point, there was a rustle of movement, and the individuals who stepped into the room were assuredly there to carry out Bang-won's wishes. It was predictable, to be beaten for his disobedience. He found himself laughing in spite of the pain – this was nothing compared to the interrogation he underwent for threatening Bang-won.

After being beaten, he was dragged out of the room and tied to a column in the corner of the property. He realized a bit too late that it was a flogging pole for particularly unruly slaves. It did not look like it had been used often; there were no flecks of blood, no telling wear at the rope he was fastened into.

Of course Bang-won's slaves would be well behaved. He pretended to care for them whilst still owning them, like the hypocrite he was.

Seon-ho gritted his teeth and waited for the lash to strike. But it didn't come. He could not even hear any movement around him, just the wind and far-off scurrying of people busy at work. He laughed. So he was just to be left here? In plain view of everyone to see, even if his face was blurred by the pole he was strapped to.

He took the moment to instead draw in the fresh air, hefting his chin up and back so he could breathe it all in. After a few beats, he heard the first nearby sound – the crunching of gravel, at least two pairs of feet. There was an obvious weight to the air at the approach, and Seon-ho already had a guess as to who it was.

His body tensed naturally, and it was a good thing since fingers drifted down his protruding shoulder-blades, then back up to follow the line of his arms up to the binding above his head.

“Ah, the mutt has a proper leash now I see,” a familiar voice drawled out over Seon-ho's turned back. As he predicted, it was Bang-won, coming to gloat over his supposed winnings. “I look forward to seeing how long it takes for you to know your place.”

Being called a mutt was nothing new. It was insulting to him, and to his mother, and it was the latter that had always frustrated him most. Yet, here and now, he was irritated far more by how true it felt. He was tethered like a disobedient dog, but that didn’t make him one.

“You are going to be disappointed,” Seon-ho responded rather quickly, conviction laid on thick.

“Am I?” Bang-won said with a pensive hum, fingers gliding back down to press into Seon-ho's spine. He was pushed forward enough to bump into the pole, his otherwise tight features morphing into an outright scowl. The expression only deepened as Bang-won took advantage of the setup of his given clothes.

The slaves outfit was fashioned with cloth crisscrossing down from the shoulder, so it could be untied to reveal the back and front – this was because a slave's work was often labor intensive and to go bare-chested was a common way of dealing with the heat. In this situation though, it exposed his skin to the singular purpose of this flogging pole.

Calloused hands continued to explore his blemished back – there were scars from training, sparring, and interrogation. A particularly thick knot arced up over his right shoulder, and Bang-won dug a finger into it. It elicited a hiss from Seon-ho, a sound he loathed to offer. He tightened his jaw shortly after, promising himself not to give Bang-won the satisfaction. The man then gathered Seon-ho’s hair and flipped it over one shoulder, a stinging kindness, before finally stepping away.

Seon-ho did not fool himself into thinking he would not be flogged now that Bang-won came to watch. Of course he was placed out here for a reason. What he did not know for certain was who would hold the lash. One, two, three strikes and he assumed it had to be Bang-won's second in command – Tae Ryeong.

He continued in that assumption until the twelfth strike, when Seon-ho was leaning so heavily on the pole he would crumble into a speck of a heap if released. His breathing was heavy, his skin absolutely seething.

Steps drew nearer, the whip nudged up over his wounds. Again a humiliating sound leaked out of the confines of his throat, and a chuckle followed. Bang-won's laughter. Seon-ho should have known he would personally take his pound of flesh.

“You keep yourself together better than I expected. Did your father used to beat you, I wonder? You do seem to know when to hold your breath, and when to let it go.”

It was just short of being praise, something that made Seon-ho want to spit. So he did, blood from biting his mouth coloring the bile.

“Do what you want, Bang-won,” his voice quivered in spite of his effort to remain firm, “I am not your slave.”

He heard the smirk in Bang-won's voice, “We will see how you do a second time, when your skin is tender from healing.”

There was no question he would be back. After all, one torrent of whipping was not enough to convince him to participate in this charade. He would not wash the vegetables that sustained that man and his house. He would not wash his floors, or dust his halls. And each and every time he refused, Seon-ho was beaten and strapped up to the pole where Bang-won would meander when he felt so inclined.

On every occasion, he first examined Seon-ho. Stroked his fingers across his neck, his mouth, his healing wounds, all while he snarled in obstinance. Then Bang-won would treat him to further punishment, until he was feverish with agony.

At that point, Seon-ho scarcely had the breath let alone the energy to tug away from Bang-won’s wandering hands drifting over his shredded back and perspiring face.

By the fifth flogging, muffled sobs wracked Seon-ho's body in a way he could not control. His back was so flayed that he swore the whip had hit bone more than once. It only took four hits to reduce Seon-ho to a whimpering mess, one that incurred Bang-won's sympathy as he circled Seon-ho to pause at his face. He still reached around to the mottled cavern of his abused back, the attention ensuring Seon-ho's eyes were wide in pain and staring through the dirty strands of his own hair.

“Nothing about your situation is going to change, except that one more dose of this whip is going to cripple you. You know that right?” Bang-won had the audacity to sound concerned even as he sunk a finger in, sluicing through flesh and crimson.

A guttural shout was ripped from him at that, one that lasted longer than he wanted it to.

Bang-won drank it in as he reached with his free hand to snatch up greasy threads of Seon-ho’s hair. “I can feel your muscles twitch... You could not even hold a sword right now. Perhaps not ever again.”

Seon-ho tried to keep the tears from his eyes, but they were long past falling. He knew Bang-won was right... His back was despicable – even the medic had commented on the rife potential for infection. And Seon-ho felt Bang-won's fingers glide through one too many layers of muscle, grazing an area where not even nerves touched.

Bang-won tilted his chin, “Not that your ability to wield a weapon matters to me. You are no longer a soldier, and I am willing to take from you until you have nothing left to give. What choice will you make?”

Seon-ho stared at him with curses spilling from his gaze, nothing but strained breath leaking from his lips.

The next time he was chained to the ground with vegetables in front of him, he did as he was told. The movement tugged at his healing back, but nevertheless he washed radishes and cabbage. He separated the leaves of bok choy and tossed seeds from of their fruits. Each task scraped more from his husk of a self; though at the very least he spit in the food when he wasn’t being watched – not that it did anything other than tickle his petty conscience.

The next day, infection flared up in his back and he was left to suffer on a bamboo mat. He was given food and water to get through the day, but nothing for the pain. He made enough bitten off noises that someone came to lay ointment on his boiling spine, but in his fever he did not know who to thank. The next day it was the same, but by the fourth the fever was done and he was sent back to work.

After a few days of routine, he was casually handed a knife for slicing. He stared at it and imagined it cutting through his throat, leaning into it like a dream long past only for fingers to yank at his wrist. But not Hwi’s hand, who was but a specter in his thoughts. The grip pulled and pulled, and though Seon-ho did not give it up easily it was eventually taken from him.

“Not yet then,” the woman said, the first servant he had met what felt like a lifetime ago. Her name was Cheon-yu, though she never did tell him. He overheard others calling her name, and had kept it to himself.

“Yet?” he asked absently, chuckling at the thought. Him, being trusted with a knife! Yet, he had also not thought he would lower himself to this; kitchen duty for the man who murdered his father and stole his opportunity to rise. That sobered him up, swallowing the laugh back down so quickly it went stale in his stomach.

~~

His back ricocheted between healing and not – eventually he was given steady amounts of ointment to treat it with. More often than not, Cheon-yu lathed it on for him. At first he thought she was ordered to do so, but then he realized it was of her free will. After that, he thanked her every time.

The scar tissue that the wounds left behind were sore and sensitive, always aflame no matter what he was doing. Sleep came irregularly, and since Seon-ho could no longer lay on his back like he was used to, he was frequently restless. It wore him down, as was surely the plan. Surprisingly, he was fed a normal amount, but perhaps that was merely to keep his strength up so he could entertain Bang-won.

After a couple weeks of getting accustomed to this nauseating routine of kitchen work and little sleep, his duties expanded into additional tidying of rooms – though only just after sunrise, when Bang-won’s household was otherwise occupied. Seon-ho was kept chained at all times. When he was in the kitchen, he was tied to the pole. When cleaning he was supervised and had padded manacles on his wrists and ankles.

After just two days of cleaning rooms, he stupidly tried to run despite the chains. He was not beaten, rather taken to a shack where he was left without food, water, or medicine for his back. It was a mere couple days before he was brought back out. The sheer wretchedness of his back was not something he wished to repeat; let alone his starved stomach and aching veins that felt like sludge rather than blood from the lack of water.

He hated how many compromises he was making just to avoid pain, and yet, he did not try to run again. Not even when he caught sight of Bang-won watching him one morning.

The man did not smile, did not do anything more than look, and still Seon-ho felt like Bang-won was clutching his heart. Squeezing until Seon-ho couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see past the white spots consuming his vision and scratching along his exhausted body and mind.

It was in such a state that he made what could potentially be a fatal mistake. He stole a hair pin from one of the rooms he cleaned. It was comprised of dark wood and decorated with designs of flowers. He kept it in his own matted strands, easily hidden by the black of his hair.

That night, he was told to take his first bath in days. He guessed why –it was finally time to be in Bang-won’s company once more. Whatever the reason for wanting him washed, Seon-ho rejected it. At first, the person who ordered him seemed to consider forcing him, but after a few seconds of thought, he was taken back to his bamboo mat in the furthest corner of the slave’s quarters.

It was then he ran the hair pin he stole back and forth along his chains. It took about an hour, but he successfully edged off its already fine point enough to enter skin rather than strands of hair.

The next morning, he was handed a tray by Cheon-yu and told to bring it to Bang-won's room.

So his assumption had been right. He stood outside the door, Tae-Ryeong watching him with a raised chin. Seon-ho rankled from his judgment but ignored him, thinking of the pin in his hair. He wondered, would he leave this room alive?

Chapter Text

Inviting an uncooperative slave to his quarters was of course not wise. For that slave to be someone who had outright vowed to destroy him made the decision even less strategic. And yet, Bang-won had let himself imagine the thrill of it for months now. Just days prior, when he saw Seon-ho doing the menial labor that Bang-won himself demanded, all while shackled and unwilling but working nevertheless, Bang-won knew he had waited long enough.

He was doubly sure of that now that Seon-ho stood before him, parallel chains running between his wrists and ankles, a tilt to his once proud shoulders. His stance screamed 'be wary', while his eyes glittered with the slow dawn of resignation. Whether it was for show or not did not matter - the mere sight of him slithered heat into Bang-won’s blood.

“Oh Seon-ho, you do look tired.” Bang-won drew the obvious out first, settling his hands on either side of the table he worked at. Just going over records of orders for his soldiers and lands, scarcely reading as he eagerly waited.

The left side of Seon-ho's chapped lips twitched upward. He was clearly not stung by the comment, but it did leave a bad taste in his mouth.

“Well, come closer,” Bang-won ordered. Seon-ho didn't move, the minute shift of his expression telling it all. Following even a simple command from Bang-won was anathema to his whole being.

A short burst of laughter churned out of Bang-won, “Good to see you're not all trained yet. Gives me more to work with.”

No matter what he said from here on out, it would irk Seon-ho, but this observation in particular did something more. A veil much like the path of a cloud over a full moon crossed inky eyes, and Bang-won chased it with a tilt of his chin. Seon-ho looked so very good like this; unable to know Bang-won's plans in detail but aware enough to be afraid. To hide that fear. His naiveté was absolutely delicious.

“You have learned well enough to pick your battles. If you do not come closer of your own accord, I can make you.”

Seon-ho considered him. It still took at least a minute for him to take the first step, but when he did, the shade of submission went right to Bang-won's gut.

He held back a smile. His slave was now standing just a stride away from the table, his grip on the food tray so precarious that his knuckles were visibly strained.

“Good,” Bang-won praised, fully aware it would drive Seon-ho back. The actual step he took was a bit of surprise, but a welcome one.

He cleared off just enough space for the tray on his desk, eyeing the spot before looking up. It was clear what needed to happen now, but in precisely the way that the mundane was predictable, Seon-ho's antagonism was also to be expected.

However, having the tray flung into his face was not exactly what he thought would occur. It was an inelegant toss of food and bowls; Bang-won had no time to catalog where his meal ended up, except that there were juices running down his cheek.

He expected Seon-ho to lunge at him then, perhaps use his chain in an attempt to choke, but the man just stood there. Challenging Bang-won to do something about his disobedience.

Tae Ryeong stepped into the room at the clatter, and Bang-won waved him off even as he used his hand to wipe off some of the food from his face. He glanced down at his spattered paperwork, annoyance taking root.

“Ah of course you made a mess. That’s what happens when you let a mutt in the house.”

He savored the flicker of resentment that leapt across Seon-ho’s dusty complexion.

“Someone's hard work was just ruined by you. Likely a servant, or perhaps even a slave taking notation. Let alone the waste of food... And what do you think I am going to do now? Beat you to an inch of your life?”

Bang-won huffed at that, “I have seen what becomes of you when you're punished, or brought near to death. I will not let you dictate when that happens next. I control you, not the other way around.”

It was evident from the arc of his brows and gape of his mouth that Seon-ho assumed Bang-won would take action. Whatever his plans were, they had been interrupted. Bang-won let that delight settle over him as he finally used his robe to dab at his face. He was wearing one of his less important robes, after all.

“You do need to be punished. I could make you get another tray, but you would just dump that one as well. So...”

Bang-won paused to reach for his favorite fan, sitting just a small way’s away. After snapping it in a specific manner, one of his servants dipped into the room.

“Have more food brought. Enough for two. Some wine as well.”

After bowing, the servant retreated. Bang-won and Seon-ho just looked at one another while they waited, a comical standoff considering Bang-won still had traces of food in his hair, and Seon-ho himself looked like a tempest wrapped up in sheep's clothing.

When the servant returned, he brought with him one tray with a practical feast on it, along with two cups and a bottle of makgeolli – only the best rice wine for him. Just what he asked for. What he didn't need to command was for the servant clean up the spill Seon-ho caused. He picked up stray food, wiped up trails of liquid, and even left a rag for Bang-won to use.

“Someone else always has to clean up after your mistakes, don't they, Seon-ho?” Bang-won shook his head.

“I am only here because of your command,” Seon-ho replied with a purse of his lips. Not necessarily a disagreement, but squarely putting the blame where it belonged.

Bang-won acknowledged it with a nod, “True. You are here because I want to see you accept your lot in life. Since you have been treated with an inordinate amount of freedom up until now, it’s going to take some time. I can be patient. Can you?”

Bang-won took a piece of pickled vegetable into his mouth, chewing as he appraised Seon-ho – who was trying and failing to appear unaffected by the needling.

“I suppose we will see,” Bang-won answered for him. He continued to eat, taking his fill of each of the dishes before he moved on to sipping the makgeolli. He poured an extra cup, pointing it toward Seon-ho but not offering it. Just as he did not offer any of the food.

Seon-ho's interest was belied by the abrupt grumbling of his stomach, something that elicited a rather endearing tic in his cheek.

“I meant to share the meal you brought with you, if you cooperated, but...”

“I don't need your food,” Seon-ho snapped.

Bang-won sniffed, justifiably seeing past that pettiness, “Oh come now. Without my food you would be dead. Though I hear you tried to take your life already – I am surprised you have not been more stubborn and refused to eat. Trying to reserve your strength for a daring escape?”

His gaze sparkled at the thought of another reason to bring Seon-ho down low. Not that he needed a reason now.

“Yes I can see you are. Once you lose some faith in that, you will stop eating. Do you know what I will do to you then?”

It was a rhetorical question, spoken while Bang-won had two fingers wrapped around a rather juicy peach that served as his dessert. He brought it to his lips to lick before he popped it into his mouth, swathing it around.

“I will make you sit in that kitchen you work so hard in, but you won't be able to touch. Day after day, you'll see. Smell. Then I will force you to eat a tiny morsel. However long it takes then, Seon-ho, to make you beg for more than a scrap.”

Seon-ho pretended not to be influenced, his face steady, but his fingers twitched into fists. His shoulders shook.

Bang-won melted into his own presumptive triumph. “You’re telling yourself right now that it wouldn’t work. You wouldn’t give in. But we both know a part of you would not have given up the hope of escape. You’ll tell yourself it’s worth trying to make sure I don’t win, so you’ll let yourself eat. That is why I will keep you, as long as you are yourself. That stupid bravery of yours...”

He hummed as he looks up and down Seon-ho’s veritably vibrating frame, “You live just to reap vengeance when it is so far out of your depths that you couldn't grip it even if it was right in front of you. Like now. Me. Weaponless. And what are you doing? Just standing there!”

His voice lifted at that, the shift from quiet to loud wearing on Seon-ho as it did everyone unable to handle Bang-won’s intensity. His subsequent expression was truly priceless, poised on an edge that Bang-won wanted to push him over.

Amusement poured over Bang-won like nighttime over a plain, thick and irrefutable, and he finally let himself smile wide.

“I imagine you have some plan,” he said calmly, “If you didn’t, you would have lunged at me by now. So why don’t you sit at least?”

Of course there was resistance etched in every line, but after a few beats, Seon-ho shifted to sit across from Bang-won. His chains rustled as he settled, a sound that Bang-won quite liked. Seon-ho was the only slave on the grounds with manacles, but he was also the only one who would rather be elsewhere. The others knew how good they had it on his estate.

Bang-won continued to eat, to drink, and they stayed in tense unease. As Bang-won watched him, the man's eyes strayed to the wine most often. He recalled that Seon-ho was found drunk; not surprising, it was almost everyone's favorite and most convenient way to cope. And now Seon-ho could not so much as choose to have a drink – let alone be near alcohol. This was likely the first time since his absorption into Bang-won's wealth.

He swished around his cup as he cherished the thought. Seon-ho clearly tried not to be caught, but even he did not seem pleased with himself when his gaze dropped automatically to the cup. He forcefully averted his gaze then, jaw tensing. Bang-won felt a longing to drag his chin back, but the table between them was too wide. He filed it away for later, instead standing.

When Seon-ho also tried to stand, Bang-won coiled finite fingers in his coarse hair and pushed. Seon-ho struggled to get up anyways, but Bang-won's grip was firm. When the man finally stayed down, he stretched his fingers so he could all but pet through the strands, taking a moment to brush through one side of his bangs.

He relished the single shiver Seon-ho must not have meant to let free, a thrum of approval drifting out. Seon-ho twitched so violently that Bang-won thought for certain he might pounce this time. His hands did indeed rise, fingers resembling spider-legs from how pinched they were. But they did not travel further than that.

Bang-won patted him on the head, like rewarding a dog. Then he walked away. Seon-ho stood as soon as he took his hand away, and Bang-won permitted it. He waited to see if he would be attacked, but it seemed Seon-ho knew better.

When he reached the door, he gave his orders to the second rank below Tae Ryeong. “Take him back to the kitchens. He is not to be fed, though he can have some water. Have a hook placed by my desk. One he cannot escape from if tied. Just before dinner, have him brought here to test it out.”

~~

When Bang-won returned, Seon-ho was already in his room. Waiting for him - impatiently, angrily, Bang-won was sure. The thought sat well with him, a raze of pleasure shooting from top to bottom at the mere sight of Seon-ho kneeling by his desk. His back was turned, the black torrent of his hair draped across his tight shoulders.

He may not have noticed himself, but Seon-ho now possessed a probably permanent tip to his back; muscles compensating for the inches of scars overlaying skin. If he ever did pick up a sword again – unlikely – he would find that so much as lifting a blade for more than a minute would be stressful.

He could train himself, of course, but it would take a long time. Bang-won didn’t plan on letting him go for the amount of time it would take to recuperate.

Bang-won was quite sure that Seon-ho had not accepted how damaged his back truly was. If he had, he would be far more reckless.

Bang-won settled on the ground across from Seon-ho, kneeling in the same way the man was. However, Seon-ho wasn’t looking at him. He had his eyes closed, hands palm flat on his thighs. Perhaps he thought ignoring Bang-won would irritate him. It was quite the opposite. Rather, the solace sated Bang-won’s growing desire to take in everything Seon-ho was. His features, his boldness, his suffering.

Meticulous eyes drag down from Seon-ho’s messy but nonetheless striking bangs and hair to his thick eyelashes, resting like dozens of tiny wings on his cheek. The arc of his smooth skin, two moles stark on his nose. They were uniquely placed, parallel with one another but two fingers apart. Bang-won lingered on the mole furthest down the small bridge before dropping his gaze to Seon-ho’s mouth.

It might be the tragedy of poetry and song that focused too strongly on the appeal of a pair of plush lips, but even chapped and worn, Seon-ho’s mouth could easily be the muse for many a writer. And Bang-won did dabble, and indeed he was inspired. But his poetry would not merely gorge itself on Seon-ho’s lips and butterfly eyes; it would feast on the sounds he would make, the emotion extracted from his unyielding spirit.

Indulging had been the plan since he first looked down at Seon-ho’s bloodied face and made the decision to keep him; and since then, he bided his time with daydreams. It was finally time to touch what was his, and even then he had all the time in the world to play.

When dinner was brought, there was enough for two just as earlier in the day; as well as two cups for wine. He began to eat right away, not bothering to check if Seon-ho had opened his eyes. He got that confirmation when he heard Seon-ho shift, fingers coiled in his flimsy clothing.

“Hungry?” Bang-won asked, looking up then. Seon-ho was of course glaring at him with all the rage remaining in his exhausted body.

“You know I am,” he snapped, voice a tinge hoarse from the lack of water, “You made sure of it. So is that what this is about? You want me to beg for food? For water? I won’t.”

Bang-won smiled for but a fleeting beat. He chewed calmly, reaching for another. “No. I do not want you to beg. Not yet.”

“You disgust me,” Seon-ho said, seemingly the only reasonable answer to the promise of subjugation.

Bang-won laughed at that, a short crisp thing. “Good. Then nothing I do will be surprising to you.”

He let the words be quiet and confusing – though all would be revealed, and then Bang-won hoped such words would sink like stones in a pond, down deep to Seon-ho’s fears. To the reality that Bang-won had no limits, and he did not care what Seon-ho thought of him.

For now though, he picked up a steaming mandu and brought it across the table, toward Seon-ho. The man tensed and looked down, then back up. Bang-won nudged it forward again, the game clear. Either Seon-ho ate from Bang-won’s hand or he did not eat at all.

Of course Seon-ho pursed his lips and refused. Bang-won tried a different food, this one with a sharper aroma. Seon-ho’s grumbling stomach was embarrassingly loud, and at that he looked away. Bang-won stood up suddenly and stepped so he was more on the side of the table, settling back down.

He proffered a different piece, this one drenched in a spicy sauce that tasted as tangy as it smelled. The red slowly dripped off the sides onto Seon-ho's clothing. If that annoyed him, he did not let it show, putting all effort into staying resolute. It must have been hard, seeing as his stomach made further sounds.

“I commend you for resisting,” Bang-won commented just before he brought the chicken into his own mouth, “Though it is really your loss.”

He reached for one of the cups, this one not quite full of makgeolli, bringing it closer, “A drink at least?”

That offer hit Seon-ho differently, as was obvious by the wave of emotion that stole through his features. At first there was shock, then indignation, and now... temptation. He was staring with bristled brows, the fingers on his left hand twitching.

When the man made a decision, it was a quick dart of his hands upward. However the clink of his chains gave him away in time for Bang-won to jerk the cup away. They met each other's gaze, both challenging in their own way. Seon-ho's hands hovered for a few seconds before dropping. Bang-won dipped the cup in closer.

“You know it's not drugged,” Bang-won encouraged, “I have been drinking from the same bottle.”

“You wouldn't waste expensive drugs on me anyways,” Seon-ho said with a hum. The words came as such a surprise that Bang-won found himself laughing.

After the laughter simmered away, he wanted very much to say 'wouldn't I?' but instead opted for, “I have no need to drug you.”

Not now anyways. Perhaps when this game got stale... But for now, they had barely begun.

Seon-ho certainly did not notice the undercurrent of Bang-won's words. He could not possibly know what Bang-won wanted to do with him – even if he had dropped a couple of hints; such as keeping Seon-ho's hair long, caressing his enticing face before every session with the lash, and watching him with an avidity that could easily be mistaken for arrogance in the face of Seon-ho's situation.

The naivete would run out soon enough but for now, Bang-won basked in it.

Even more so when Seon-ho relinquished to his craving and allowed Bang-won to tip the cup between the crease of his pretty lips. The pour was slow, with Seon-ho's mouth greedily receiving with steady swallows. A trickle or two of makgeolli did escape, slipping down his chin. He dipped, as though meaning to pull away, but Bang-won didn't let him.

Only after the cup was empty did he pull away. Seon-ho wiped at the remains with a soft rattle of his chains, looking at Bang-won with an indescribable expression. Suspicious and pleased all at once.

Bang-won did not smile in the face of it, so as not to prick Seon-ho's conscience any further. He merely put the cup back on the table and ate more food. While eating, he could feel Seon-ho's eyes on the path of his chopsticks. Back and forth, back and forth. Eventually, Bang-won arced another piece in Seon-ho's direction – though again with his fingers rather than chopsticks.

Again the man resisted, though there was far more insecurity in his refusal. Bang-won tried again with a small mandu, and just as he was pulling away, Seon-ho's mouth chased it. Bang-won paused and let it glide closer again only for Seon-ho to wrench himself back with a scowl. He looked away, evidently angry at his own weakness.

Bang-won knew he had him then, and simply exchanged the mandu with the aromatic chicken. He said not a word even if he wanted to goad the man into surrender. Seon-ho would cling to any words as ammunition so Bang-won would not give it. But if Bang-won kept forcing Seon-ho to smell the food, with the knowledge that it was entirely likely that Bang-won would starve him again the next day if he refused…

As he hoped, Seon-ho's eyes slipped toward the chicken. His nose wriggled as he drew in the scent, lips parting just slightly... Seon-ho turned his head. There was still hesitation, but Bang-won stuck the chicken closer, not giving Seon-ho much of a fighting chance.

And finally, finally, Seon-ho opened his mouth to accept the food. He did not look Bang-won in the eye, but there was no hiding the shame oozing out of every pore. He even held himself tight, fingers trembling on his thighs from the sheer force of his own self-loathing.

Bang-won’s fingers grazed the corners of Seon-ho’s mouth as he placed the chicken on his tongue. He watched sparks go off at the taste, the reward. Then Bang-won lifted the mandu from earlier, and now with the lock open, Seon-ho ate eagerly.

This turn of events pleased Bang-won so much that he focused wholly on selecting foods that he wanted most to see Seon-ho hatefully swoon over.

He was so distracted that he almost failed to notice Seon-ho's hand moving up. His non-dominant hand was held over the chains to keep them quieter, while his dominant hand arced up with something protruding out.

Bang-won sloped to the side just in time for the cylindrical weapon to narrowly miss his eye. Instead it raked across his temple, the trajectory desperately finite and thus landing where it naturally fell – into Bang-won's back, close to his shoulder blade but still squarely in the meat of his muscle. It did not go deep, whatever it was not made to do so.

Even so, if Seon-ho had managed to make his initial target – that being Bang-won's eye – he would have accomplished his goal of damaging Bang-won beyond repair.

Seon-ho had clearly not planned in case of failure, hastening to make up for the error. He yanked the weapon out of Bang-won's back and tried again. He must have known he was going to lose; Bang-won could take down half an army with a sword impaled in his side – a little wound would do nothing to impede him.

He grabbed Seon-ho's whole hand, weapon and all, and pushed him backward. It could scarcely be called a scuffle let alone a fight with how quickly Bang-won pinned the other. It helped that Seon-ho's wrists were tied together, and where one arm went so did the other. Though, the hand without the weapon did scrabble fecklessly at Bang-won's arm.

The rest of his body was held down by Bang-won's weight. Seon-ho's ankles were already cinched by the metal molded into the ground, and Bang-won made sure to stretch Seon-ho enough that his ankles were taut on the chain.

Bang-won was unfazed. He didn't so much as breathe hard as he lorded over Seon-ho, precisely where he should be when it came to his slave. Over him, in all things.

But this was particularly rewarding, seeing as he had waited weeks for such an opportunity. He wasn't even upset about the assault. In fact, he had hoped Seon-ho would be so much fun. He had even told Tae Ryeong to leave him be no matter what he heard, unless of course he was called for.

Bang-won smiled, unable to conceal his pleasure.

Seon-ho was clearly more concerned by that fact, seeing as his angry features dropped the moment the grin appeared.

Since he held Seon-ho down with but one hand and his body, Bang-won’s free hand darted up to stroke at his wounded temple. He glanced at his fingers, the wet of blood a deep scarlet. He plucked the weapon out of Seon-ho’s clenched fist. Nothing more than a hair pin.

“You got closer than I thought you would,” Bang-won admitted, very nearly fond, “I'm impressed.”

Seon-ho bared his teeth, the grind of his jaw making it clear just what he thought of Bang-won's backhanded praise. He chuckled at that, the sound low and personal.

“Was letting me feed you part of the plan, pet?” he cooed, “Or did it just taste that good?”

“I'm not your pet!"

"But I am your master now. Are chains not enough to show you?” he mused as he traced along Seon-ho's jawline. Since there was a bit of blood on his finger, it left behind a faint trail as he appraised the bone through smooth skin. Seon-ho jerked his head and cursed.

Absolutely lovely.

He pulled his hand away, committed to positioning Seon-ho the way he wanted him. That required first tucking the hair pin into the folds of his robe instead of tossing it away. Who knows, Bang-won might decide to return the favor. Then he used the chain between Seon-ho's wrists to glide his hands as far to the left as they could go.

This caused Seon-ho's back and shoulders to bend awkwardly to the side. Bang-won assisted the more by straddling Seon-ho's legs. He brought his own legs in to restrain the already bound but still kicking limbs. He did not let them lie flat, rather ushering them to sit on one another in a way that must sting Seon-ho's knees.

“Get your hands off me!”

Ignoring him, Bang-won placed his free hand over Seon-ho's hip, fingers tapping possessively before Bang-won pushed inward. The gesture tilted his whole torso into the direction of his stretched arms while his legs were piled on top of each other. This way, the angle of Seon-ho’s back, though surely still painful in addition to the tug of his scars, did not put needless strain on his lower body.

It was apparent that Seon-ho anticipated pain. There was a particular mask he threw on when in agony, but it was the mask he wore when undergoing humiliation that Bang-won wanted to see. He did not waste any time either. He had waited too long as it is.

The grasp on Seon-ho's hip edged down, scraping across cloth and skin before pushing between the ragged hem of top and bottom clothes. The top was longer than his waist, but Bang-won pushed it over enough to drop his fingers past the hem of his pants. He stroked the line of Seon-ho's pelvis, his flesh fluttering in confusion only to halt with frozen breath as Bangwon's fingers scratched through the coarse hair to be found just above his true goal.

“What-” His whole body was so tense that Seon-ho would surely sink if dropped in water. Then he gave a shout, driven by fright and fury, “Bang-won!”

At the delectable tenor of his own name, Bang-won gripped Seon-ho. A hiss of air vaulted from his mouth, swallowed up by Bang-won’s warming veins. He lets out a sigh of his own, hand arcing downward in time.

Seon-ho's cock was well sized and thick, but not inordinately so. Responsive too, but that likely had to do with the adrenaline that must be coursing through him – not to mention the fact that he had not been touched for so long. Bang-won was quite confident that Seon-ho had not taken himself in hand while in captivity; he was not the sort whose thoughts strayed from victory and survival.

He gasped, so beautifully disoriented, “No, ah…”

Once the blanket of shock wore off, Seon-ho tried to move his hips away. But the angle of his body made that impossible, not to mention the constraints of his legs. He sputtered, clearly conflicted between the need to hold his breath and the panic which made that unattainable.

“Stop! What are you doing?” he croaked out, the words not exactly carefully chosen considering it all.

Bang-won did not entertain him with a response. Instead, he drew Seon-ho out over his clothes and swirled his thumb around the top of Seon-ho’s twitching cock.

The bitten off choke that rattled out of clenched teeth made home under Bang-won's skin. He smoothed the leaking pre-cum over heady skin, so his hand would be less abrasive and more electric. As Bang-won pumped him, he took note of the spots that made Seon-ho jump the most.

“Why are you doing this?!” Seon-ho panted, so magnificently terrified. So angry. Instinctual tears leaked from his blown-wide eyes, fingers crooked from where they dug into the ground. As Bang-won predicted, Seon-ho had not expected such an assault; he could not wrap his mind around it, and so the consequences were all the more exquisite.

Bang-won did not cease his ministrations, though he did dip low enough that the angle made him slow and deepen his strokes, which made it all the worse for Seon-ho. The man's mouth opened with a tapered moan that he ate back up before it fully breached the air. His eyes slunk to Bang-won's face for the first time, either because it was reflex, or because he thought perhaps Bang-won would explain it all now. Would tell him some magical crux to sort the messy storm that must be abounding in his skull.

“I told you already. You're my slave, and I can do what I want to you,” Bang-won said instead, assuredly not what Seon-ho wanted to hear.

Had there been anything in Seon-ho's mouth, the sheer force of his teeth snapping down would have broken it. As it was, the sound reverberated, and Seon-ho picked up his wriggling once more. He still had nowhere to go. Bang-won savored it, making a split decision to bury his nose in Seon-ho's neck. The proximity of his teeth did not dissuade Seon-ho from jerking mindlessly, although he must be so very tired.

Bang-won drew in Seon-ho's scent, “I could tell you did not bathe as I had wanted. I am actually glad you didn't. You smell like sweat and dirt, Seon-ho. Like defeat.”

Seon-ho veritably growled, vibrating through his throat into Bang-won's waiting mouth. He did not hold back from latching on, biting to earn a deeper sound from Seon-ho. This one was more like the howl of a cornered animal, and Bang-won drank it in as it was slowly silenced by the crunch of his teeth. In the end it was nothing more than an agonized mewl.

At the same time he kept the pressure of his hand, though Seon-ho's reaction flipped from positive to waning. It took actual effort to keep Seon-ho from flagging despite how eager his flesh must be for release. The fact that Seon-ho could fight even this was fascinating to Bang-won, and something he lapped up as much as he did the power he had over the man.

When he finally released Seon-ho's throat, the man cursed. He turned his head and tried to bite back. Bang-won watched him with manifest amusement, “I look forward to taming you, Seon-ho. But I do hope you stay like this for a long, long time.”

Bang-won twisted his hand just so. Seon-ho's features were dragged screaming into a paroxysm of sensations. One he clearly tried to banish as soon as it sunk hooks into him, though he failed in that too. This was a painful extrication of pleasure, seeing as Seon-ho's body was dehydrated, his defenses chipped and frayed. The angle as well, pulling on the scars on his back, reminding him of his place.

It was magnificent to watch him break from something he didn't even know was possible until now. Something he still didn't accept – it was likely that being brought to completion like this by Bang-won of all people would not settle until he was lying worn and sticky from shame. And then, in that moment, Seon-ho would also realize Bang-won planned it. And then he would be afraid, every night, every day, until Bang-won truly took him the next time.

The thought shuddered down Bang-won's spine, and he soared in it.

“You're close now, I can tell,” Bang-won whispered into his ear. He wanted Seon-ho to come to his voice. A final stake in his pride. “I am going to learn every tell you have, every secret you hide. You're mine now, and I am nothing if not thorough. Do you understand better now, Seon-ho? Why I am doing this?”

Bang-won picked up speed then, paying more attention to the tip of Seon-ho's dick. Seon-ho's hips arced, though he pushed himself back down immediately. His eyes were shut, brows furrowed and lips tightly held by one side of his teeth. The sight was superb, and though he was tempted, Bang-won did not call him out because he did not wish for him to stop.

“It's not just because I want to,” and Seon-ho spasmed while Bang-won spoke, body loosening and tightening all at once as a sad sob of a groan filtered out of him, “It's because I can.”

The unsaid, that Seon-ho could not stop him, was not lost on Seon-ho. There was a deflation of his struggle, a deadened color to the fall of his tears. Bang-won was sure his threat and promise were etched loud and clear in Seon-ho's mind. Let him wonder when this would happen next, and what it truly meant to be under Bang-won’s heel.

Chapter Text

Seon-ho had assumed he could predict Bang-won's game. The torture he inflicted was based off a belief he was superior – and Seon-ho was not wrong about that, merely short-sighted. Reducing Seon-ho to a kitchen maid after permanently etching his perceived inferiority into his back was statement enough. And certainly, when the man started to feed him, Seon-ho started to recognize that Bang-won's need to put him under his control ran deeper than he originally thought.

But Seon-ho did not predict this as part of the game. That Bang-won would touch him in a way even Seon-ho had not personally indulged in for longer than he could remember. It had been self-imposed punishment; both for his own mistakes, but also because he had been missing a fire. A need. A will. Over these years, he channeled what little life he had left into vengeance, with none remaining for physical yearning.

Not to mention, it felt wrong; he never forgot what he used to think about in clandestine moments in his too large room. When he would hesitantly touch himself only to smother sound in the fear that he might accidentally utter the name of the one swarming his wanton thoughts.

Hwi's smile, his voice, his company had driven Seon-ho to seek gratification ever since he was old enough to start imagining rather than merely feeling. Giving in to personal, petty temptation when the one who tempted him was no longer in his life would have been an empty endeavor.

It was no wonder Bang-won found it so easy to make Seon-ho come. Not once, but twice, though the second was measly and hurt so much that Bang-won's hand felt made of stone. The whines that clawed out of Seon-ho could not be held back. His flesh itched, his insides scooped out and exposed. And still, it was decidedly surreal.

While it was happening, he wanted so very much to fling insults at Bang-won. To turn this situation back on him – after all it was he who lowered himself enough to touch a man, someone he considered a slave.

But Seon-ho didn't even have that in him. Bang-won knew full well what he was doing. He had even stated earlier that Seon-ho should not be surprised by anything he did. And now that Seon-ho started to think about it, there had been signs from the very beginning.

The way Bang-won leered down at him after he was captured, doling out punishment to every supporter of Nam Jeon but keeping Seon-ho. The fact that he had Seon-ho's hair left long, and put him in a kitchen instead of manual labor where his body would be strengthened but also chipped away at. The touches he had given to Seon-ho's back before whipping him again and again. The stroke of his fingers on his jaw, gliding over his lips when he had been left panting from agony.

And suddenly, so very suddenly, Seon-ho feared for Hwi. If Bang-won harbored these desires as a means of possession, was Hwi safe from him? Seon-ho didn’t know if Hwi still worked for Bang-won – he had not let himself entertain the notion. It was pointless. If Hwi was still a hired sword, Bang-won wouldn't let him know Seon-ho was here. It would ruin his fun.

Guiltily, Seon-ho reminded himself that he was the one to tell Hwi to leave him alone in the first place.

How Seon-ho wished he'd taken his life in that opium den instead of listening to Hwi. Taking his life now meant Bang-won would win, and Seon-ho couldn't abide that. No matter how his very skin prickled with venom and discomfort, his mind a convoluted hornet’s nest.

Bang-won finally released Seon-ho only to wipe his soiled hand down the white part of Seon-ho’s shirt, his own come mixing with the cloth. “There. For you to remember your weakness.”

“And yours,” Seon-ho shot back.

Bang-won blinked at him, a veneer of rage overtaking him like a flash but he at least did not take it out on Seon-ho. Probably slaked enough to tolerate Seon-ho's barbs.

“Think what you like,” Bang-won said before he stood. He snapped his fan, and Seon-ho scarcely had a few seconds to embarrassingly tuck himself back into his pants before Tae Ryeong of all of Bang-won's people appeared. Seon-ho would have preferred anyone but him, but the reasons were clear.

The revolted look Tae Ryeong gave him proved he knew what had happened. And the hand on his sword dared Seon-ho to run, if merely so the man could cut him down. There was no one better to make sure he behaved and was returned to his bed roll, where he laid shackled and did not sleep.

~~

The next day was no different from the usual routine Seon-ho had grown to know. His hands did the work so well that his mind was unfortunately able to wander. He thought of Bang-won, of Hwi, of the stickiness of his body and the wish to bathe. Darker thoughts floated in and out of his consciousness.

Would Bang-won touch him again? He had as good as promised. Seon-ho tried to think of ways to thwart him if – when – it happened. He thought of potential strategies and words that could hopefully sway Bang-won's enjoyment into a waste of time instead.

For all the ideas he came up with, the next time he was brought to Bang-won’s room, he wasn’t sure what he could do to prevent Bang-won from doing whatever he wanted. His nerves were escalated to the point of buzzing, lost in the prospect of the unknown while Bang-won had not even gotten home yet.

By the time Bang-won did return, Seon-ho’s knuckles were white and his face blanched with simultaneous terror and fury at the prospect of what was to come. In the end, Bang-won did not so much as touch him before, during, or after he ate dinner. He even left a portion of food for Seon-ho before leaving the room entirely. Of course, Seon-ho did not touch it, and he was taken back to his bed roll before seeing Bang-won again that night.

More and more often, Seon-ho’s work days started to end in being brought to Bang-won’s room before the man had even returned from his duties. He would be chained by the desk and forced to wait. Bang-won did not touch him again, at least, not so drastically. Small touches did occur, but Seon-ho conditioned himself not to react – whenever he did, it gave Bang-won such vile pleasure. He also made Seon-ho listen to him eat, and a few times even convinced him to accept food whether from his hand or let Seon-ho feed himself.

Seon-ho could tell that Bang-won wanted to take him by surprise the next time he chose to indulge; it was all part of the game that he was finally beginning to truly comprehend.

The first time he was chained by Bang-won’s bed mat rather than the desk, Seon-ho nearly vibrated out of his skin. But again, Bang-won did not touch him. He ate alone, then got up and left. As was now typical, Tae Ryeong retrieved Seon-ho and returned him to his room, untouched but not the least bit unshaken.

It was on one of those routine trips to Bang-won's room, led by Tae Ryeong, that Seon-ho heard a ghost from his past. A voice he thought he would not hear again, let alone any time soon.

Hwi.

So many warring emotions assaulted him at the light jingle of his childhood friend’s tone – the man sounded happy, and Seon-ho was destroyed by the thought that he was happy here. In Bang-won’s residence, which meant he had not left Bang-won’s service. Of course he could be visiting, but Seon-ho suddenly felt quite certain that this was no mere visit.

He was also quite confident that he was not intended to hear or see Hwi, a fact compounded by the glint of a sword hilt in his peripheral. Even with the chains between his ankles, he skirted to the side quickly enough to avoid a strike from Tae Ryeong that would have at least knocked him off his feet.

“Hwi!” Seon-ho shouted, not thinking about the ramifications of involving Hwi in this. The ever-present gorge of fear inside his chest was too strong, compelling him to escape if he could manage.

Tae Ryeong did not let him so much as utter another word. The man hated his babysitting duties, and whenever he was able he took it out on Seon-ho. This moment was probably a blessing for him, and he took advantage with tantamount ferocity. Since Tae Ryeong’s first attempt failed, he tried again, and this time he struck Seon-ho right in the head.

There was no stopping his plummet to the ground. As he went down, a piece of soft fabric was pulled past his already open mouth. Easy pickings. The makeshift gag sat heavy on Seon-ho’s tongue, a simplistic method of silence. It was also used as leverage to pull him back up along with an arm looped around his waist.

The two must have made a rather ridiculous image, with Tae Ryeong pulling him like an unruly child while he lashed out in what few ways he could. He didn't stand much of a chance. He was not nearly as fit as he once was, not to mention Tae Ryeong had hit him quite hard. Seon-ho was certain he had a steady drip of blood down his skull – he could feel it creep onto his forehead.

Without hearing Hwi's voice a second time, Seon-ho was bodily heaved to Bang-won’s room. Once there, Tae Ryeong used the gag to drag him further, the gesture needless and quite intentional. When Seon-ho was finally by Bang-won’s bed mat, he was secured by his ankle chain.

Since Tae Ryeong was distracted with the chain, Seon-ho strove to get the cloth out of his mouth. It was Tae Ryeong's hair wrap, a fact Seon-ho had the time to process for but a moment before hands grabbed the free ends and pulled back.

Seon-ho made a rather embarrassing, throttled sound, but could do nothing to stop it from being tied tightly around his skull. Threads of his hair were caught in the way, pulling awkwardly. But more than that, the tightness squeezed his already pulsing skull, sure to feed an encroaching headache.

After the wrap was knotted, Tae Ryeong snatched his wrists. Almost effortlessly, he unlocked the manacles and hauled Seon-ho's hands behind him. Knowing this would restrict his movement entirely, he struggled as much as he could.

He shoved backwards with his whole body, disturbing Tae Ryeong’s balance enough that they both went down. He scrambled away, aiming for the door. Tae Ryeong seized a handful of his hair, callously wrenching him back down like one might grab the scruff of an errant pet.

It did not take him long to pin Seon-ho’s arms behind his back, this time permanently.

“You’re more trouble than you are worth,” Tae Ryeong muttered, clearly irked by his recent role as Seon-ho’s keeper, “I had hoped Bang-won would have killed you by now. He should have killed you before it got this far. But he likes his games with you, for some reason. He likes Hwi more though, so don't let his interest go to your head. You're just a pawn, and you'll bore him eventually.”

Tae Ryeong seemed to realize he had said too much at the sudden cease of Seon-ho’s struggle at the mere mention of Hwi. The man grunted in displeasure and then left him with that thought - that Hwi was nearby and more than that, Bang-won still had plans for him.

As much as Seon-ho wished he had not listened to Hwi so long ago when he told him to live, he wished Hwi had listened to him when he told him to go away. Only he should have gone much farther away. Hwi could not possibly know the depths of the man he had made himself loyal to – someone willing to imprison and torment just to prove a point. Hwi would never willingly follow such a man if he knew who he really was.

Seon-ho was scared for Hwi, in spite of knowing they had been at odds for nearly 7 years. His concern was founded in the same reason he shouted for Hwi; because he knew Hwi would help him. Even if they were not friends, they were something to one another. Important enough to take action.

Bang-won would surely abandon Hwi in the end, because Bang-won cared for no one more than himself. And Hwi cared for everyone else before himself. It would never work.

Seon-ho's mind ran in a loop as he sat there, kneeling, gagged, and bleeding. A sluggish star of telltale wetness had slunk from his scalp to his temple – evidence of Tae Ryeong's effort to keep him docile. He was also a bit dizzy but otherwise he did not fight the bondage that kept him tied. He would have to fight Bang-won, so he needed to keep his strength; no matter the fact that he would lose. Again.

By the time Bang-won returned, Seon-ho's mouth was dreadfully dry and his mind razed and exhausted. He just barely flicked his gaze in Bang-won's direction, what he saw there settling like weighted gray clouds on the horizon.

There was a saunter to Bang-won's shoulders, not atypical, but far sharper than his usual meticulous edge. Fresh fear lit up Seon-ho’s insides; a distinct terror he had become too complacent to feel over the past few weeks. It was only then that he truly recognized where he was tied.

Right next to where Bang-won slept. And judging from the smile gradually spreading on Bang-won's lips, he did not plan on sleeping any time soon.

“Tonight, I kissed Hwi,” Bang-won said so very casually, all while his gaze devoured every nuance of Seon-ho's reaction. There was much to see, since Seon-ho could not have predicted such an admission even if he'd tried. Were his mouth not otherwise occupied, it would have dropped.

Just as he had feared, Bang-won's desire for possession meant no part of Hwi was neglected. To have it confirmed was a whole other beast, and it roiled so brightly in him he saw stars. How dare Bang-won dig into Hwi's body and soul like that.

Bang-won crouched down so he was across from Seon-ho, “I have been going slow with him. As I have been with you. But of course my reasons are different.”

He traced Seon-ho's jaw, chasing him when he turned his face aside. Bang-won slipped his fingers into Tae Ryeong's hair wrap to jerk Seon-ho's head back in his direction.

“I am sure you cannot mistake my touch for affection, or respect,” to emphasize, Bang-won shook his head back and forth enough to pull at his sore lips, “Where Hwi has earned both.”

Bang-won's hand skirted up, digging into Seon-ho's scalp to shove his head down while he worked on the tough knot Tae Ryeong set. Once he got it free, Seon-hos tried to nudge the disgustingly wet cloth out of his mouth with his tongue. Before he could get it completely out, Bang-won plucked it the rest of the way.
It was repulsive to Seon-ho, the way the cloth slid out with saliva still attached, and the reflexive smack of his parched mouth as he sought to moisten his tongue so he could speak again. Bang-won's attentive gaze was still worse.

“Your affection and hatred are the same,” Seon-ho snapped, voice like gravel, “You admire Hwi, but you will still betray him.”

Bang-won blinked, and it was clear he was stopping himself from responding so quickly he might be mistaken for defensive. After a beat, he tipped his chin down, “I will not.”

“You already have,” Seon-ho huffed, “If he knew I was here... If he knew what you were doing, he would never forgive you. He's too good.”

“Of course you’re right. You know Hwi so well, don’t you?” Bang-won mocked before his hand snatched the back of Seon-ho's hair. He yanked him closer, “So you also know that he must never learn you are here. For his own good.”

It was a threat not really directed at Seon-ho, but at Hwi.

A vicious heat boiled in Seon-ho's belly and surged up. Even his head felt like he was abruptly floating on fumes. He was quite sure it showed, since Bang-won smiled at him. So sickeningly assured.

“And to think, you almost ensured he found out. What would he have done, Seon-ho? To protect your pathetic hide?”

All Seon-ho could do was stare, breath trapped in the vacuum of consequences that had somehow escaped him until now. Bang-won was right because Seon-ho was right. Hwi would have helped him, even without knowing the full story, and Bang-won would be forced to protect himself.

Hwi's healthy dose of justice could not be mitigated, just as Bang-won's self-preservation could not be reasoned with.

If Hwi ever found out that he was here – that Seon-ho had been made into a slave, his freedom trampled on as well as his body, then Seon-ho would be leading Hwi to the finite edge of a blade.

So Hwi must never know.

The truth misted over him like early morning fog, and equally as disarming. He began to unravel, the hopelessness seeping into every crevice. Bang-won's hand dragged down from his hair to cup his chin, thumb grazing over his trembling lips. Seon-ho blinked, once, twice, realizing he was looking without seeing until Bang-won's face was stark in his.

The man looked as groomed as he always did, not a hair out of place, but only then did Seon-ho notice the rose to his cheeks and thirst in his gaze that was assuredly fueled by the alcohol he loved so much – though Bang-won only indulged when he was absolutely safe to do so. And he had been with Hwi, and now with Seon-ho. Certainly it was one of those times.

The finger on Seon-ho's lips slid upward, brushing over the dried blood sculpted across his forehead and down his temple, “It is a shame you cannot see the picture you make when covered in blood. On your knees, shackled and vulnerable. That, ah, yes that look you're giving me right now is what made me want to have you in the first place.”

Seon-ho could at least imagine the cloud of loathing wafting within his own murky gaze and every line of his expression.

“That fury... You make me want to crush you just to see your desperation.”

His words were slaked on the edge of lustful violence. There was no doubt that they were to topple; right into what Seon-ho had dreaded for weeks.

Seon-ho was so blindingly confident in the inevitability that he jerked back and flung his legs out, even chained. Bang-won just grabbed his knees and pushed him back, the length of the chain permitting that much even if it wrenched his ankle.

“Don’t touch me!” It was intended more for himself than Bang-won. It was not like the man would listen to his commands.

He truly fought in every way he could, too predictably considering Bang-won obstructed him at every turn. But he would not remain quaint and quiet while being raped. Even if the struggle was part of what Bang-won wanted - even if it drove him all the more wild.

However, with Seon-ho’s hands tied behind his back, he could do little more than flop while Bang-won positioned him where he wanted. That ended up being his chin shoved into the floor, spine sloped at a straining incline while Bang-won explored every part of him he chose to touch.

That included the gnarled valley of his back. Every day, Seon-ho did his best to forget the state of his abused muscles. But when Bang-won's fingers clawed deep, the scars twinged and shrieked awake. Seon-ho could not stop himself from shouting, body convulsing. His bound hands jerked up, but Bang-won’s were too far for him to reach. He realized then why his hands were tied like this – and it wasn’t only because Tae Ryeong had wanted to make him the most uncomfortable he could be.

The pain distracted him from Bang-won's other attentive hands that stripped away his few layers. To be so exposed was a vulnerability in itself, but not more than the continued realization of what was to happen.

And it was happening so very, very quickly. Almost as though Bang-won planned this for so long that he became too impatient to savor the intricate steps he himself had orchestrated.

“Is this the first time you have been touched like this? Surely it is,” Bang-won asked as he scratched up Seon-ho's flank, fully intending to be abrasive, “You would never have allowed anyone else. You’re too selective. Everyone is below you. Everyone but Hwi. Did you want him? Do you want him still?”

The words nestled like slow moving poison. Seon-ho pulled back, his ankle tugged taut with nowhere else to go. He panted from the previous effort, as well as unadulterated resentment.

“Don’t talk to me about Hwi,” Seon-ho bit out with an accompanying curse. He did not try to argue though; Bang-won was not exactly wrong.

“Why not?” the man rumbled with amusement, “I know you do. Hwi doesn't know it though, the oblivious boy. If he did, it might have changed everything. But now you're mine, and he is so much more than that.”

Hands spread him to slip a finger inside. Seon-ho bucked and kept the resulting whine trapped tight. It did not take long for the cold oil to be warmed by friction and a second finger, and still Seon-ho managed to bite his tongue.

But after the third finger he could not hold it in anymore. He expected Bang-won to chastise him, to point out how weak he was to not be able to resist crying out. But there was nothing. Nothing but Bang-won's breath as he lathed more oil on and sunk in deeper.

After a few rustling, heartbeat tense moments, it was not merely fingers. Bang-won began to push his much larger, thicker cock where his fingers had just been and still, no taunting. Just the soar of Bang-won's pleasured hum as he forced his way inside.

Seon-ho's lungs were frozen, his stomach clenched from nausea. He felt wrong in every way, cored open and sparking.

“Stop,” he said with a gulp of stinging air, and it was a pour from there, “Ah! No! Fuck you - stop!”

Bang-won did not respond to him. Rather, he let Seon-ho's objections and subsequent helplessness be the answer. Particularly when Bang-won picked up speed, disregarding his discomfort, his voice still stifled while Seon-ho’s ratcheted up.

The meaning was clear – Seon-ho was cocooned in inferiority, the sounds of his own inept protest an echo chamber of misery.

And it worked. Seon-ho felt weak. Lowly. He could not defend himself from being defiled. From being stolen and turned into a personal toy.

No matter how he gnashed his teeth, noises seeped out. Bang-won certainly liked it, the few moans that trickled out of him always after particularly rough whimpers from Seon-ho.

Now that he knew what Bang-won wanted all this time, he wondered if his inability to muffle his voice when pushed too far was a trait the tyrant especially appreciated. He remembered each time he was whipped, there came a point Seon-ho had been unable to hold back cries. Bang-won would always stroke his face, lording over him. In the moment, it had just felt like gloating, but now the memories tinged a different color.

Whenever Bang-won let loose his tenuous control, it pricked all the deeper. Every gasp and rumbling grunt of gratification slipped under Seon-ho’s skin like a thousand slivers, and there they stayed. Nudged awake with every prod of Bang-won’s fingers and the thrust of his hips.

And when Bang-won was silent, Seon-ho was instead cut by the constancy of his own breathy grunts, the slap of skin. The smell of perspiration and defeat.

Unlike the first time Bang-won had touched him, bringing him to completion surrounded by the sound of his judgmental voice, this time the absence of his voice singed every remaining nerve.

His whole body ached, and the longer this went the more splinters cracked in his knees. They started to slide outward from the pressure of Bang-won’s body, splitting Seon-ho wider while his hands squeezed his ass. Then they slid up to his back, entrenching in the brands he littered across his skin before settling elsewhere. One hand dug into his forearms, the other tangled in the tresses of his hair to grip harshly.

That was how Bang-won came, using his arm and hair as leverage to bend Seon-ho back and drive himself deeper. He didn’t hold in his voice then, groaning like a beast licking the bones of its meal.

Seon-ho’s bite-sore mouth leaked a pitiful whine that trailed off into a subdued sob. He could taste the salt from his own tears as Bang-won claimed a few more drawn out seconds of pleasure. His scalp stung from where fingers laced through his hair, tugging with cruel joy.

“Good boy,” Bang-won praised as he would a dog; the condescension found strictly in the words themselves and not his tone – he truly meant his compliment after all. To him, Seon-ho was proving to be a worthwhile mutt as he called him so often, albeit a rebellious one.

When Bang-won was finally finished, he slid out with casual ease. Seon-ho was stunned; more than he should be. He knew this had been coming – Bang-won as good as promised it. But like this…

After Seon-ho had heard Hwi’s voice. After, apparently, Bang-won had kissed Hwi.

Seon-ho felt the slip of heat drip out of him.

Tremors wracked his wrists. No – his whole body quivered. Pushed to his limits; finally.

And still he hated more than anything. He was paralyzed by it as much as the pain. When Bang-won flipped him over to consume his expression, Seon-ho gave him far more of a feast than he deserved.

Chapter Text

The situation surreally returned to what Seon-ho had grown accustomed to – he would do chores, then either be brought to his own bed mat where he would stew, or to Bang-won’s room to await whatever game the man wished to play that night.

On occasion, the game was relatively harmless. He demanded Seon-ho tidy up in front of him so he could watch, or even fold on all fours to act as a desk for Bang-won’s more tedious paperwork.

The latter was the hardest to accept, and Seon-ho opted for his own ploys to disturb the status quo. Even after refusing, he would be forced to cooperate eventually. And when that happened, he reveled in shaking his back at the precise moment Bang-won was finished writing. Unfortunately the man never wrote on truly important documents when reminding Seon-ho he was nothing better than a utility; though it was still pleasant to irritate him, even lightly.

No matter how Seon-ho resisted, Bang-won would either be slow with his retribution or snap as a snake might. And whether he resisted or not, Seon-ho always anticipated the punishment of his touch.

The intimacy varied, but mostly Bang-won liked tracing his fingers along his jaw or nose. Sometimes when he wanted Seon-ho’s full attention, he would wind his fingers up along his cheeks to turn him to and fro, coiling his thumbs around his adam’s apple to pin him.

“Perhaps I will make you a collar to go with your leash,” he chuckled, once, and from then on Seon-ho expected to one day feel the jagged weight of metal or perhaps leather across his throat.

Here and there he would make Seon-ho strip to bare his torso; that was always the most panic-inducing since he expected it to devolve into something far worse, but it never did.

After weeks blended together, one night he immediately knew something was different. Bang-won was already in his room, ready for his arrival. Tae Ryeong also did not leave. Rather, they unchained Seon-ho for the first time in weeks.

The liberation was short-lived, and they quickly held him down to be bound differently. His wrists were tied to his ankles with enough slack that he didn’t bend too harshly; although his knees arced out awkwardly. His veins curdled with degradation.

A liquid was then poured down his throat. Bang-won must have gotten a taste for Seon-ho in a gag the night Tae Ryeong silenced him with his hair wrap, because there was particular care given as he slipped a strip of hardy material into Seon-ho’s mouth to keep him quiet.

The gag was thick enough to make it impossible for him to really speak, though he could grunt. The risk of him being heard was mitigated by placing him in a small room adjacent to Bang-won’s, where Seon-ho assumed he would be left to wait.

He thought it a mere test of patience, particularly when his body began to overheat and precisely what he had been given before the gag was placed on started to make sense.

An aphrodisiac. He recalled a time when he had believed Bang-won would not waste such expensive indulgences on him – but he had since been proven wrong about many assumptions.

Then the door to Bang-won's room opened and two voices rather than one rung clear. One more than the other.

Hwi. Sweet, precious Hwi, laughing and clearly intoxicated. He and Bang-won’s mingled discussion was scarcely discernible; what did matter was the sounds. A smacking of lips, peeling of clothes and Hwi's giggles. Such joyous, innocent sounds heightened with passion, crowned with indisputable affirmation.

“I have wanted to do this for so long, Hwi. I want to worship you. Let me touch you. Will you let me?”

Bang-won’s voice was tracing the edge of needy; if Seon-ho did not know the kind of person he was, if he did not hate him with every fiber of his being, he would admit the man sounded as gorgeous as he probably looked. Meticulous propriety tossed aside in favor of passion, his appearance mussed by play and indulgence.

“Yes,” Hwi virtually begged in response. So breathless and beautiful, a certainty that bore none of the associations Seon-ho had with Bang-won. Seon-ho's guts twisted and channeled very unwanted heat downward.

The need in the air tinged heavy even where Seon-ho was stowed away. He very nearly choked on it, each hint of what was happening lighting his imagination with an aching, despicable fire. The image of Hwi being touched by Bang-won was revolting, but in Seon-ho’s current state the noises were irrevocably stimulating.

“Hwi,” spoken huskily and with obvious intention and entreaty. He did not hear the confirmation that was likely physically given, but he heard Hwi’s moans and gasps. He knew Bang-won was taking him down, eager and thorough.

The notion of touching Hwi himself ignited every thread of Seon-ho that was not already unraveled. Tears rolled down his temples at the pressure clawing out of his body and psyche. In the same terrible, heady vein, his rage toward Bang-won only served as further kindle for his addled body.

He wanted so much to rip the man apart, to pry him from Hwi and devour those exquisite sounds himself. If Hwi would even have him, which was sorely unlikely – especially given what Seon-ho had become.

When Hwi finished, it was with a cut-off quiver of Bang-won’s name. That crept like venom under Seon-ho’s closed eyelids, sending shockwaves of yearning and ire rattling outward.

“You know I can't stay the night,” Hwi huffed after a while.

“Do I?

He heard Hwi's grin in his tone, “Not yet. Later though...”

Another kiss, and Seon-ho's skin crawled for too many reasons to count. Lust, revulsion, despair.

When Hwi left, it was not even a minute before Bang-won opened the door keeping Seon-ho caged in this closet. He did not even bother to drag Seon-ho out, rather, Bang-won took advantage of his susceptible position right there. Wrists tied to his ankles, clothing loose. Accessible.

Sparking with misguided cravings, Seon-ho reviled how quickly his body responded to Bang-won’s mere touch. It sent scatters of vibrations up and down his sensitive skin. His relief sagged into the gag still stuffed in his mouth; he was grateful for the barrier it gave to his indignity.

The first time Bang-won displayed ownership over his body, it had speared Seon-ho’s pride to the core. The second, he felt pain and humiliation. But this?

Pleasure. Blinding, excruciating pleasure. Chemically oversensitive nerves had been flaring for too long already, and even stale, the aphrodisiac melted his resistance and made it all too simple to just to lay back and let Bang-won do what he wanted. To allow his body to like it even while his mind rebelled and simmered.

His eyes were sure to tell the true tale, but Bang-won laughed at the glimmer in them anyways, “Always so obstinate!”

Although he was on his back, Bang-won slipped his hands behind Seon-ho to stroke gently at the scars. It always hurt, it should hurt, but now it felt like Bang-won were gliding a cloud along his skin. The tissue was numb from the drugs in Seon-ho’s veins, and therefore pliable. The insistent press of Bang-won inside him felt nearly the same, but afloat with sensation rather than numbness.

Without meaning to, Seon-ho sunk into it all, not even realizing how far he had gone until he heard himself moan. His eyes snapped open, glancing up into Bang-won’s smirk. Seon-ho gaped, closing off his throat while warmth flooded to his cheeks. His gag had been removed and Seon-ho did not even notice; too comfortable in its protection.

“Such pretty sounds you make. Feels good, doesn’t it? Getting fucked by a dick meant for Hwi.”

The vulgarity dropped like shards of ice down his throat. Into his lungs, his chest. He stared, taken aback by the shift; Bang-won was not normally one for base profanities. But the man was more turned on than before; made bolder by his time with Hwi. And how better to ensure Seon-ho felt degraded by this pleasure than reminding him that this was all because Bang-won wanted Hwi.

Surely, there was more to it. A desire for power, domination, and a callous joy for destroying those who defied him. But in the end, there was only one reason Bang-won maintained an interest in him. Were it not for Hwi, Seon-ho would have just been another vindictive enemy out for his blood. Because of Hwi, Bang-won had looked closer at Seon-ho, and he had wanted.

“And here you are, fucking a lowly slave instead,” Seon-ho responded tonelessly, eyes slinking upward and through Bang-won. It was not that he wanted Bang-won to go to Hwi, but he could not stop him either way. At least he could remind Bang-won that he was reducing himself by his own high standards.

Certainly to punish him, Bang-won reached down. His dick twitched freely in the man’s palm, causing a tic in his jaw as he held in a hiss. But of course the man was relentless, and after a few strokes Seon-ho was gasping. When he came the second time, it was shortly before Bang-won finished, and when he did he shoved in so deep that Seon-ho saw stars.

So many tears swathed his eyes that he didn’t even bother to open them. He wouldn’t be able to see through the pour. A press of lips set to taste his tears, followed by a wet lick of a tongue. He groaned, protesting with a tug of his face but he had nowhere to run.

It was the first time Bang-won kissed him, and he seemed to enjoy what it did to Seon-ho so much that he was sure it would not be the last.

“I think, once Hwi and I get closer, he will want me to do this to him,” Bang-won mused as he rested, going limp inside Seon-ho, “Take him so hard he cries. I can picture it perfectly. His bright face, all wound up. Biting his lip. Maybe even crying, like you, but in desire. It will remind me of you, for just a second, but not for any longer.”

The image buried itself deep, and a fury woke in him. He did not think he would manage to do any damage, but Bang-won moved slower than usual – sluggish from pleasure, surely – and so his teeth clamped down hard on Bang-won’s lower lip.

It was a short-lived triumph; Bang-won did not even beat him for it. Rather, he laughed and cruelly coated Seon-ho’s mouth with a mixture of Bang-won’s and his own come; he could not wipe it away either – his hands were still tied, and though he resisted as long as he could, eventually his tongue reflexively darted out. A little taste went a long way to make his mouth rank. Bang-won watched it happen, mirth evident.

Although the swell of Bang-won’s ruby-red lip was sating, Seon-ho’s weathered pride creaked under yet another blow after so very many in one, very long evening.

Chapter Text

Hwi knew Bang-won had a gathering that evening. He had told him as much. But Hwi wanted to surprise him. He planned on sneaking into his room and waiting for him to return. Perhaps he might shock him enough that they would tussle a little bit.

It had been a little over half a year since Bang-won’s constant deep stares and private fighting lessons turned from vague to outright invitation. Although Hwi had been hesitant at first, after a few kisses, they fooled around, wrestled, and teased each other. Hwi had to admit, he was more excited and contented than he had been in years.

This sense of enthusiasm had not lit his thoughts since before Nam Jeon’s machinations and Seon-ho’s betrayal. Back when Yeon was still alive, and Seon-ho was his friend; not that he recognized himself as happy back then, but with all the hindsight he possessed he knew better now.

In spite of his victory over Nam Jeon, Yeon was still gone and now Seon-ho was missing as well. He assumed that Seon-ho was doing just what Hwi had done merely a year prior; traveling to establish his new self. To get away from the poison left behind by memories.

Even if he respected Seon-ho’s demand to be left alone, Hwi always kept an ear out and told his people to do the same. Seon-ho was sure to pop back up; at least, Hwi hoped so. Mun-bok had always said nothing save divine intervention could take the man down, and Hwi believed him.

For now though, Hwi was happy. He had Mun-bok, Beom, and Chi-do. He had Bang-won – a future king who sought the ear of those his brothers would feel too below their station. Bang-won was just and fair, if not also ruthless and capable. Either way he merited respect.

And now Hwi had seen him on his knees. Begging for Hwi.

The memory sparked a smile as he stole his way into Bang-won’s hall. He knew today had been particularly hard, and though he told Bang-won he’d be busy, he hoped that only made the man happier to see him.

There was a window he knew to sneak through, and finding it without getting caught was almost too easy. But Bang-won’s private rooms were near the back of the complex, and he was given as much privacy as possible. It was what Hwi heard as he got close enough that was difficult. Flesh against flesh, unsteady breathing and telltale groans.

At first, Hwi wondered if he should be jealous or perhaps try harder to keep Bang-won’s attention, but then he realized this didn’t sound like passion. It sounded like violence.

“Bite me again and I’ll make you come,” snapped a voice that was clearly Bang-won. The other person snorted in response, but was otherwise quiet. Hwi realized why when he heard the smacking sound of kissing. He didn’t fully process the threat Bang-won had made until he was peaking through the silk curtain into the room.

Bang-won was on top of someone. Inside them. Kissing them, closely enough that Hwi couldn’t see their profile. But he did see that Bang-won was holding the man’s hands down at his wrist. His manacled wrists.

What was going on?

An aborted shout from Bang-won trickled free, and his free hand arced up before coming down hard on the cheek of the one below him. Bang-won cupped his mouth while he glared down with a mingle of irritation and amusement. The man on the mat was starting to recover from the slap, but before Hwi got a good look at his face, Bang-won’s palm smothered the same cheek back down.

“You bite me every time…” Bang-won shook his head, “It’s a shame I like your mouth so much. Not going to give up your plush lips even when you take chunks of mine.”

Bang-won let the man go, but even that gesture was harsh. He then yanked him by the shoulder, as well as an unnecessary but no less painful grip in his long and loose hair. That blocked Hwi’s view of his face, and earned some of a fight.

“Fuck you.” The man’s cursing wilted off into a groan, potentially because Bang-won did not remove himself as he spun him around. Though the voice was remarkably familiar, Hwi’s attention was immediately stolen by the sight of the man’s spine.

The exposed back was a veritable thicket of risen scars, each one an individually knotted branch. The angle of the scars could be from a battle, but the sheer number and pattern belied otherwise.

Bang-won spread his hand across one side, almost tender before harshly scraping his nails down in the next moment. The man beneath him convulsed and groaned, shoving his face into the bamboo mat to try and steady himself.

The movement seemed to do some pleasant things to Bang-won, judging from his reaction.

The distinct wrongness of it set off every alarm Hwi had; Bang-won was hurting someone so intimately. The man Hwi followed into battle. Bang-won, who had a remarkable habit of sucking Hwi off until his toes curled. Who said such kind things, bridging on love.

Hwi couldn’t reconcile it. Who could have wronged Bang-won so much that he would use this sort of punishment? Because that was what this looked like. Punishment. There must be some reason behind it…

Bang-won removed his hand from the scars and instead gripped the man’s hip. With the leverage, he pulled up and then backward. One of his hands slipped down once the man was secured. It made him squirm in Bang-won’s grasp, bolting up, but the momentum was used against him. Bang-won wrapped an arm over his chest to make them flush.

The man responded with a flare of indignation. “Bang-won!”

It was his voice that made the puzzle pieces lock together – no one ever said Bang-won's name quite like that. With a shake that might sound weak in any other tone, but he made it sound like the tremor before an earthquake. A promise of retribution and judgment.

The first sight of features slotted the realization into place from there. The elegant sculpt of familiar cheekbones and jawline. The pouty, wrathful set of lips. But most of all, the slope of dark eyes shining with absolute rage.

Hwi's heart soared only to crash.

Nam Seon-ho.

His dearest friend, who he had almost killed and vice versa. Here, with Bang-won. Shackled and scarred. Not traveling or finding himself like Hwi thought. But trapped. Here, under Hwi’s nose.

Recognizing that fact lifted some of the veil Hwi’s mind had placed over top seeing Seon-ho again. It felt like a dream, so of course his eyes saw what they wanted to see – and that was Seon-ho filled with capable fury.

On second glance, what shone even more than anger was exhaustion. Fatigue, written explicitly in every line of Seon-ho’s body, the fire in his cold eyes weary.

And Bang-won had done this to him.

Surreal though this was, there was no doubt what was happening. Seon-ho was being hurt, and Hwi would not stand by. His body moved quicker than his brain, crawling through the window. He had his blade out by the time he straightened his back.

He would have put his sword on Bang-won’s neck immediately were it not so close to Seon-ho’s. So instead he made his presence known.

“Let him go, Bang-won.”

The most shocked of either them was certainly Seon-ho; the sight of which dug deeply into Hwi’s guilty conscience. He looked no different from if Hwi had slid a sword between his ribs. Betrayed. Terrified. Sad.

“Release him,” Hwi repeated with a step in Bang-won’s direction, though his firmness faltered.

“Hwi,” Bang-won ordered calmly, though he did let Seon-ho drop. Even stunned, Seon-ho scrambled forward to cover himself. Bang-won didn’t even bother reaching for his clothing – he just continued kneeling there, somehow managing to retain his nobility even naked.

Nausea curdled Hwi’s stomach.

He looked toward Seon-ho. He was struggling with getting a robe over his shoulders, since his hands were chained. Chained.

Shame and rage simmer alongside the revulsion.

His old friend’s hair was longer than Hwi remembered; it looked as though it had been recently brushed only to be mussed up by petting hands. The set of his shoulders was overtly tilted on one side, though that could be due to how Seon-ho was crouching.

“Seon-ho,” the name was stale on Hwi’s tongue. The last words he said to the man was his wish for Seon-ho to live. Was this what happened after?

“Are you…” okay? He stopped himself from asking. Of course he was not okay.

“You,” Hwi turned on Bang-won before Seon-ho could answer, heart panging in his chest. “Why? How could you?! You…”

“I kept him alive,” Bang-won finished for him, “I could have had him executed.”

A vicious laugh filtered out from Seon-ho, “It would have been kinder.”

“Of course it would have been,” Bang-won agreed, letting what is unsaid, that this was a punishment, resonate loudly.

Seemingly at the reminder, Seon-ho shrank into himself, and didn’t even try to escape the bed.

Another crack opened in Hwi’s heart at watching Seon-ho play at diminutive. Or perhaps he truly believed it.

“I was going to let him go. For your sake, Hwi,” Bang-won explained from the side. He had finally put on a robe to face Hwi properly. “But then he threatened me. Said he would dedicate his life to my destruction. I couldn’t let him go then, after such promises.”

No. Hwi rallied at that lie. Bang-won could have handled Seon-ho’s vengeance, or he could have tried to soften it at the very least. Anything but this.

“This has no excuse!”

Bang-won clicked his tongue, “This, the use of a pretty body by someone more powerful, is how Seon-ho himself was born. It is common enough. And he is his mother’s son, status and all. I just reminded him of it. He has papers, did you know that?”

The whiplash between opinion and fact made Hwi’s head spin.

“‘Nam’ Seon-ho only in illusion,” Bang-won continued calmly, “His father never registered him as a free man. Seon-ho’s name on the registry has always been legally meaningless, seeing as Nam Jeon owned him.”

Air felt sharp as Hwi sucked in a breath. Off to the side, Seon-ho sat frozen. His hooded eyes were impossibly dark, gleaming with a haunted resignation as he stared at the bunched-up sheets and lopsided cushions.

“I was going to burn those papers when I found them,” Bang-won dipped his head back, “But then he promised to ruin me. So I kept them.”

Kept them. Kept him. Bang-won made Seon-ho a slave. Like his mother. No, not just a slave. A concubine; truly like his mother.

And then Bang-won touched Hwi with the same hands he used to hurt Seon-ho. To rape him. All while he whispered praise and adoration in Hwi’s ears. This whole time…

The realization shattered what lingered of Hwi’s poise. He tucked his sword under Bang-won’s chin. The man let him, or, at least did not lunge for a weapon of his own. Of course he wouldn’t. He always believed he had control over every situation.

“Give me one reason not to kill you here…” Hwi wasn’t sure his agonized heart meant it, but it certainly sounded like he did.

“Hwi! No!” The twisted ache of Seon-ho’s voice startled Hwi enough to break eye contact. Why would he try and stop Hwi? Just a year prior, Seon-ho aimed for Bang-won’s death, and he did not even possess as personal of a reason back then.

When Hwi glanced over, the other had finally worked out of his stupor. As covered as he could feasibly be, he pushed himself away from the bed with tight, apprehensive features.

Bang-won huffed and Hwi looked back. He was instantly netted in Bang-won’s intense gaze, all too familiarly fond for the circumstances. “You’re no fool. You and Seon-ho would never make it out alive.”

No. They wouldn’t. Many of the guards were personally trained by Hwi, and Tae Ryeong was just outside the door; listening, but probably uninvolved due to some previous command by Bang-won. Maybe the infuriating man did have the situation under control.

Hwi growled, stepping closer merely out of frustration. “Will you let us leave here at all?”

Bang-won just watched him, murky trust radiating out of traitorous eyes, “Yes. Take him. Do whatever you must. But come back so we can talk.”

Hwi gritted his teeth; the arrogance! He opened his mouth to let fly with a refusal when he was interrupted.

“He will be back,” Seon-ho’s hoarse lilt vowed, “I will make sure of it.”

Seon-ho didn’t look at Bang-won while he spoke; not until a few beats after. When he did, it was more from the side and through his eyelashes than head on. Bang-won acknowledged him with a slow nod.

Hwi was missing something. Of course he was – that was not surprising. He looked between them, heart panging again. This time so harshly his hand clenched over his chest. He was used to pain from the poison, but this was something else entirely.

Yes, he had missed a lot.

“In a few days,” Hwi agreed with a gnash of his jaw, “You won’t want me back before then.”

His temper needed to cool, but even a few days was no guarantee.

Bang-won looked between the two with an indiscernible expression, but he did turn to one of his cabinets to retrieve something. He closed the distance between he and Hwi to deliver the item, and it was only when Bang-won dangled it between them that he realized it was a tassel with a key.

Hwi’s breath went solid in his lungs, dragging his insides with it like a sickness.

The very gesture of reaching out to accept it felt slimy. Particularly since Bang-won would not let go right away. Rather, he made Hwi meet his eyes before releasing it into his grip.

“Remember what we have always talked about. A kingdom of the abandoned needs order too.”

Hwi ignored him, instead daintily holding the key as he brought it to Seon-ho.

“I won’t let you walk out of here in… those,” Hwi reasoned weakly.

Seon-ho held out his wrists, though he did not look up. The gesture was so learned, so obedient, that Hwi’s heart went cold. He swallowed the rising chill, focusing on the key.

The moment it was in place, Seon-ho jerked back and twisted it the rest of the way to get himself free. It took a bit of maneuvering, obviously not made to be undone by the person chained, but it seemed important to Seon-ho that he liberate himself.

With a surprisingly uniform clank of a sound, the chains fell. Seon-ho flicked his gaze up to Hwi, who stepped back at the abrupt ferocity to be found in them. That seemed to be what the man wanted, judging from the relief washing over him as he retreated.

With no where else he wanted to look, Hwi’s gaze followed the ground to another set of chains; it was then he noticed Seon-ho’s ankles were rubbed raw. He must have been released from that second set of manacles so Bang-won could move him where he liked. Another lick of rage coursed through Hwi; he couldn’t even face Bang-won before he followed Seon-ho out, far too angry and confused by it all.

~~

It was an awkward trip out, with Tae Ryeong close on their heel. The tilt to Seon-ho’s shoulder that Hwi saw earlier was even more pronounced now, but he still walked with purpose and pride. Not as much pride as Hwi recalled, but it was comforting nonetheless.

“Thank you for getting me out of there,” Seon-ho said once they managed to get out of the view of Bang-won’s gates. His rough tone belied what was to follow before he even spoke, “But just because you feel guilty now doesn’t mean things have changed. I still don’t want to see you.”

Justifiable. But Hwi was unwilling to give up on him yet. Not like he’d done before…

Lips pursed, Hwi stepped closer, “At least let me take you to see Mun-bok. He can take care of your injuries.”

“No,” Seon-ho said with a firm step back.

Hwi winced; of course he still didn’t want to be boxed in. At the same time, he realized Seon-ho had not looked at him for more than a second this whole time.

“I don’t need a doctor,” Seon-ho added, “I know what’s wrong with me, and there is nothing that can be done about it now. It’s been too long.”

“You don’t know that for sure. Mun-bok is a miracle worker, you’ll see!”

“There’s no such thing,” Seon-ho snapped; very nearly pettily were it not for the stark reality, “Drop it, Hwi. Just forget I exist. Forget this ever happened. Whatever it takes for you to stay off Bang-won’s bad side.”

“Yeah, right. Because I’ve seen what being on his good side means,” Hwi scoffed, the tragedy of it so immense that it felt almost like a joke. A cruel joke, like most of Hwi’s life. Like most of Seon-ho’s.

Bang-won had lied to him. For a year. He had made Hwi happy with the same hands, the same mind, that degraded Seon-ho right under his nose. And there was more yet that Hwi believed Bang-won was hiding – but he had to look into it.

“Seon-ho!” Hwi blurted when he noticed his oldest friend, if he could still be called that, walking away, “What do you think you’re doing?! Going off on your own… What if Bang-won doesn’t let you leave?”

“If he doesn’t, it won’t matter whether I am with you or not,” Seon-ho sighed, furious and exhausted all at once. “I mean it, Hwi, I don’t want your help. You remind me of the past. You remind me of him. I don’t want to see your face ever again. Forget this.”

Fire-tipped blades shunted in and out of Hwi’s ribs with every word, stealing his breath with malignant honesty. Seon-ho had every right to want to be left alone, to hate Hwi and everything he represented. He really did. But…

“I can’t! I can’t just forget.” Hwi looked skyward, gulping down a sob that carried the weight plowing through his conscience. “And I won’t. He can’t get away with this!”

That made Seon-ho pause. He turned slowly, the sour expression on his face one Hwi had seen before. The night on that bridge, so long ago, when the two of them had admitted their goals of destroying Nam Jeon.

They had wanted the same thing, but were too stubborn to compromise. Instead, they fought, and now here they were. Not really friends. Not really enemies. But weapons, used against one another – and by people who had no right to use either of them.

Seon-ho shook his head, likely unaware of just how devastated he looked seeing as his features kept quivering in and out of something more controlled. “No, just get away from here! Leave him alone. You can’t beat him. You’ve helped give him power and he will crush you with it.”

“What happened to making sure I went back to him? To talk?”

Loathing stretched across Seon-ho’s cheeks and brows, “He wants you, Hwi! He knows how angry you are. I know it too. I know what you want to do. And if you do, he’ll kill you. All because he can’t have you.”

Abruptly, it all clicked. Seon-ho’s effort to get away, his attempt at hurting Hwi to keep him at bay – granted, much of what he accused Hwi of was true.

“…Is that what this is about?” Hwi asked, voice quiet at first before toppling over an unseen precipice, “You don’t want me to go after Bang-won because I might fail?”

Seon-ho’s silence spoke for itself. As did the rabbit-dart of his eyes.

“But let me guess,” Hwi tilted his head, “You’re going to make him pay instead?”

Seon-ho’s brows folded into a miserable crease. He laughed, bottomless, “No. No, Hwi, I am not going to make him pay. It’s impossible to make a monster like him pay.”

He sucked in a breath and glanced up, fecklessly vengeful eyes shining in the firelight, “Nothing could come close to the suffering he deserves. And even if I wanted to try, I won’t be holding a weapon any time soon.”

Hwi flinched. Right – Seon-ho’s back… Hwi couldn’t be sure what happened to cause such wounds, but he could guess. There were few punishments reserved for slaves, but lashes – which so often left permanent damage – was one of them.

Seon-ho laughed again, this time a bit brighter but only in its sincerity, “I am going to disappear. And so should you.”

Run away? That was not Seon-ho’s way. Yet, after Nam Jeon died Seon-ho had tried to take his own life. Perhaps even now, to disappear meant something more finite. Either way, Hwi didn’t really know Seon-ho anymore… He especially had no idea who the man was now, after everything. But that did not mean Hwi didn’t want to learn.

“I tried to find you,” Hwi admitted, “At least, I tried to catch any scrap of news that might have been about you. I hoped you would return.”

Hwi saw the tic in Seon-ho’s jaw, and he knew he was saying all the wrong things in spite of it being the truth. So Hwi continued speaking, quicker, “I have missed you. Not just these years, but before that. I miss when we didn’t have someone between us – your father, Bang-won, anyone. I miss being able to talk to you. And after what you went through…”

“Hwi,” Seon-ho tried to make him stop.

“It’s at least somewhat my fault, isn’t it?” Hwi bit his lip, “I can’t fix it, but I can be here for you. Don’t make me abandon you again.”

Seon-ho just looked angrier by the second, and what Hwi said next would probably tip him over. Hwi was gambling, hoping he still knew Seon-ho at his core.

“I am not above saying that if we part ways now, we will never see each other again. You are injured, with nowhere to go. And you know full well I have been fighting off a poison that will eventually kill me.”

It was a low blow, an extremely low blow, and Hwi felt terrible as cold memory crossed over Seon-ho’s features. But at least resentment was softened by guilt. It was pure manipulation, but Hwi refused to let Seon-ho wander off alone. Not when leaving him alone the last time had resulted in imprisonment and torture.

“Please,” Hwi gave one last plea, “At least spend a day with me. We don’t have to go to Mun-bok, though that’s one thing I can do for you. Medicine. Proper care.”

Seon-ho lifted his chin, veritably sneering, but only because he was clearly deflating in the face of Hwi’s efforts. Hwi didn’t have it in him to feel overly abashed since Seon-ho finally nodded, “Fine. Lead the way. But this doesn’t mean I won’t be gone by morning.”

Chapter Text

Seon-ho should have guessed Hwi would have a decent home; not merely because Hwi deserved to live well but also because Bang-won would ensure his favored soldier was well taken care of. Nevertheless, Hwi’s residence was modest. A single house with all the necessities and just a comfortable amount of flourish.

It was the exact opposite of Bang-won’s. Humble where Bang-won was opulent, reserved where Bang-won made an elegant statement. As is, Hwi probably only had one or two servants to keep this place up, and that was all he needed. Knowing Hwi, they were obscenely well paid too. They seemed happy enough when asked to draw water for Seon-ho to bathe; he had been denied doing it himself by Hwi’s sorrowfully hooded gaze.

It struck Seon-ho suddenly that no matter what happened, it was unlikely he would be delegated to kitchen duty again. No more washing vegetables or prepping rice. He stretched his fingers while he thought about it before wrapping his hands around his wrists to lightly rub at the sore skin. The manacles he wore for so long had padding, and though the damage could have been worse, his tendons croaked from overuse.

Hwi eyed him, and Seon-ho immediately stopped the motion with a scowl. He tugged his arms back down at his sides and tried not to give into the persistent itch. It did not help that his thoughts were wandering as he looked around. Bang-won could find them so easily here; if he changed his mind and came after them, they would be sheep to the slaughter. But if Bang-won truly wished to find them, there was nowhere they could both go that would hide them for long.

“Can I make you something to eat?” Hwi asked, clearly trying to make the mood more palatable.

Seon-ho considered the question; not because he was hungry, but because it would give them something else to focus on. He glanced at the empty bowl that had once contained water, although he wished it were alcohol, before finally shaking his head, “I don’t think I could eat anything even if I wanted to.”

It would be a waste of food, and Seon-ho wasn’t sure the mere smell of it would not make him sicker than he already was. As if on cue, his stomach contorted with a rising gorge. He swallowed multiple times to try and rid himself of the sensation, but instead it just traveled to his features.

He was sure Hwi noticed all the flips his face was doing. He hoped Hwi didn’t comment and would just let it be, but the tension between them was too thick to disregard. It did not help that Seon-ho was sorely unable to be bold and to look Hwi in the eye. Not now, and not since being freed, and perhaps that was the source of the problem.

He had been trapped with Bang-won for so long that his residence had become Seon-ho’s world … He had surely not wished to die there, since Bang-won would win, but he’d had no faith in leaving either. Instead of being strong enough to get himself out, Hwi found him, and in such a compromising position. Everything he had not wanted to happen had come to pass.

Now Hwi was in danger from the man he had trusted, and Seon-ho had to handle his pity. It was not that he wanted Hwi to remain blind and manipulated, but like this? Now Seon-ho was the one to blame if Hwi got hurt, and it was too much to swallow.

Very abruptly, Seon-ho could not abide it. “This was a mistake. I should go.”

“No, don’t go. Please!” Hwi reached for him as he rose to leave. Seon-ho’s gaze dropped to the hand but nowhere else.

“Don’t…” His voice was punched out and breathless, and he took another step back. Unfortunately that just sped Hwi into a scrabbling attempt at keeping him from running – spewing things that Seon-ho truly did not wish to hear.

“You know I don’t judge you. I can’t imagine what’s happened, and we don’t have to talk about it, I just,” Hwi spoke quicker near the end, realizing he was being irrevocably indelicate, “wanted you to know. You don’t need to be embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” Seon-ho repeated, at first doing so because it was automatic. Then the word bounced around in his psyche before dipping into the acid tension of his stomach and back up, tinged with fury, “Embarrassed?”

Hwi seemed to realize he chose the wrong word, and he tried to interrupt with a – “I just mean…”

“No!” Seon-ho rounded on him, not letting Hwi backtrack, “Don’t tell me how I should feel. I am embarrassed. And after everything I heard between you and Bang-won, you should be too.”

He choked on his own bitter words, recognizing both the hypocrisy and the fact that Hwi would have no idea Seon-ho was thinking about the first night Bang-won took him; also the first time the tyrant kissed Hwi. Even Seon-ho didn’t want to be thinking about it, and he quickly churned past the traitorous slip.

“You’re right about one thing – you can’t imagine what I’ve been through, and I never wanted you to have the chance! This is my shame, and I should have at least been able to decide who knows.”

“It is not your shame, it’s his fault! Not yours.”

For some reason that struck Seon-ho like flint.

“Shut up Hwi!” Seon-ho could feel himself crack, a veritable well of frustration and despair filling his eyes, his throat, his veins, “Of course it is my shame! Bang-won turned me into a slave to humiliate me, and it worked. There was nothing I could do!”

A judgmental bark of laughter spilled out like fish line, leaving hooks in his lips as words tumbled along the stream, “I barely even fought back. All it took was a couple floggings and I broke. Washed vegetables and dishes. Cleaned the rooms of his family. And when he decided he liked me better on my back, I couldn’t stop him.”

His lilt broke at the candid nature of his own words. The fact that it happened and saying it out loud were two very different things. He gulped back any further admissions, but to his horror he could no longer hold back the weight of memory as tears clawed their way out. His lips pursed and shook as he sniffled, hating himself.

“Couldn’t even free myself,” he lashed out with shaky despair. When the urge to flee wriggled back up his spine, he didn’t let Hwi stop him this time.

As soon as the crisp air blanketed over him, he realized very quickly that outside was also where Bang-won’s men were – out there, somewhere. Perhaps one was even watching him and Hwi at this very moment.

As much as Seon-ho did not care if he were to die – in fact he planned on it quite soon, the one thing he could have control over now – his real fear was that he would be taken back to Bang-won. Used against Hwi, and disposed off without a choice in the matter. Or worse, kept alive as a prize for Hwi’s cooperation.

Bang-won’s men could be waiting right now, just outside the house. Had Seon-ho been alone when he left, he would have taken a less traversed path to a busier one where he would have gotten lost in the crowd, but here…

Panic clamped over his heart. Like a kick to the chest, it brought him to a halt. He stared out into the darkness, peppered with trees and a small, scarcely lit path through the thick hedge to the main street.

The black stared back, glittering with potential, and Seon-ho did not move.

Hwi said his name behind him. Seon-ho’s fingers wrapped into fists, though he did not turn around.

“Come back inside,” Hwi begged, “You can say or not say whatever you want. I shouldn’t have forced you to come here, that was wrong. I’m sorry. For so much, I’m sorry.”

The genuine agony seeping through Hwi’s words slunk through the locks Seon-ho was so desperately trying to place across his mind, a barbed reminder that he was not alone in his suffering. He so rarely truly was. He and Hwi both lost their childhood at the same time. Then Yeon. Vengeance was arguably lost on them too, seeing as Bang-won swept in to consume them both as soon as they were free.

It just took Hwi longer to recognize that Bang-won was another trap, not salvation.

Seon-ho tugged his attention away from the unknown that laid before him and turned back to the past he had once so trusted. He didn’t say anything to the apology; returning to try again was enough of a compromise.

~~

The two sat in silence for an unknowable amount of time, surely lost in their own convoluted riddles of thought. Ultimately, neither tried to restart the conversation. Instead, Hwi eventually led Seon-ho to a spare room and told him he was two doors down if he needed anything. Then he showed him to the bath.

Once left alone, he looked around, taking note of how well furnished it all was. He took advantage of the oils and soaps, scrubbing himself veritably raw to reach a modicum of clean that did nothing to reach his mind. His back, too, still pulsed with the scrapes Bang-won’s nails left behind. But Seon-ho was accustomed to that sting, not to mention the tug on his tight muscles.

He returned to his room, delighted by the freedom of walking from one room to another without a chain in spite of the storm weighing over him. Being alone to sleep as well was a miracle. He had been stuffed in a room with people who largely ignored his existence for so long that it had become suffocating. Although, in the past few months he started to have conversations with those around him. Someone had even left treats of food on his mat a couple of times – though Tae Ryeong had confiscated them more often than not.

Withal the merits of not being at Bang-won’s, he still didn’t sleep – not solidly. He nodded off for fifteen or thirty minutes here and there throughout the night, and when the sun crept up, Seon-ho long had reddened eyes to greet it.

He dressed in the robes Hwi let him borrow; royal blue and tones of red. He also put his hair up, no longer wishing to see it loose the way Bang-won preferred. Hwi had left a blue band for the purpose, the hue a shade lighter than the one Seon-ho had once worn. He wondered why Hwi even had the color – as far as he knew, the man never wore blue. Not since he was younger.

Hwi was in the courtyard doing morning exercises. The old Seon-ho would have joined, but his back twinged with warning. He had done his own stretches, though he initially learned to do them with chains on. Being freed of that limitation still felt odd.

Blinking away the thoughts, Seon-ho went to find food. Hwi did not have a kitchen staff – at least right now he didn’t; perhaps to limit the amount of strangers Seon-ho had to interact with – so he had to make his own. The ritual of cooking his own food for the first time in so long gave him a sense of control; even if he did overcook his eggs and burn some of the vegetables.

While eating, Hwi joined him – fortunately, Seon-ho had made enough for them both. When he sat across the table and silence reigned, an edge that Seon-ho didn’t even realize he still had eased off nearly entirely. The only time they spoke was when Hwi nudged an extra piece of chicken onto his rice and commented, “You need to eat more.”

When they were finished with breakfast, Hwi took Seon-ho for a walk around his gardens. The pleasant quiet between them continued, although it couldn’t last forever.

“Are you going to stay, then?” Hwi hoped gently after they looped around a couple times, “For a little while longer?”

Even if Seon-ho looked as though he licked a spoiled fruit, he nodded, “Until tonight. Better to move at dark. So yes, unless you irritate me again…”

Although Seon-ho didn’t see it, he could feel Hwi smile at that, “Okay.”

He didn’t say anything else, at least not for a little while.

“I know this is risking irritating you, I know I know, but… I asked Mun-bok to visit this afternoon. You don’t have to see him, but I… I would like it if you did.”

Seon-ho’s jaw twitched with how tightly he was holding it, wanting so very much to explode at Hwi. Somehow though, he kept his temper largely to himself; perhaps because he knew Hwi had the best intentions in mind. But that did not mean Seon-ho wanted to play along. The mere thought of someone forcing him to expose himself again did not settle right.

“I have no interest in letting someone examine me, Hwi. What is the point…”

“So you can heal-“ Hwi started only to stop when Seon-ho began to laugh bitterly.

“Heal. What a joke! You’re telling me to live again, Hwi,” Seon-ho snapped, unable to stamp the vitriol down any longer, “What happened the last time you asked me to live?”

It was as low of a blow as the one Hwi struck to get Seon-ho to come back with him in the first place. It immediately poisoned the calm air around them, rising to cloud Hwi’s gaze. There was a fight brewing, one that they probably should delve into.

But all that potential for disaster and growth scattered when one of Hwi’s guards ran up to them red-faced and frightened, “We have an intruder, and he’s making his way here fast!”

An intruder? Seon-ho looked at Hwi, both clearly thinking the same thing. Bang-won sent someone.

“Stay here!” Hwi ordered at the same time Seon-ho huffed in refusal. Hwi didn’t try to stop him when he followed either, which was a good thing since it was not Bang-won’s men. Nor a stranger.

It was the sword Seon-ho noticed first; the familiar saber that could belong to only one man. Sung-rok looked wild and determined in the center of three guards, a bloody sword in his hand and another, more familiar one hanging off his hip. Seon-ho’s sword, the crane Yeon stitched tiny but always recognizable to him.

“Sung-rok?” he asked, dazed and floating. His former second in command’s entire stance changed the moment he caught sight of Seon-ho. It was like the breath he took disturbed his very momentum. To others, it might appear that nothing changed, but Seon-ho saw Sung-rok’s expression crack with a joy so overwhelming that it was too much for him to process.

“You really are free.” Sung-rok’s grip shook, though he tightened his fingers a second later.

Seon-ho could only nod, baffled, “For now. What are you doing here?”

“Use your brain, Seon-ho! I patched you up so you could survive, not so you could be imprisoned. I couldn’t get you out, but I have been watching,” Sung-rok had the endearing audacity to look offended, “Oh, I see. You thought no one was looking for you. As always Seon-ho, you’re being selfish.”

The words may have been harsh, but all Seon-ho heard in his tone was affection – the sort of brazen, annoying consideration for Seon-ho’s life that he didn’t expect from anyone but Sung-rok and Hwi. Certainly not from himself.

Sung-rok was right too. He had assumed no one would look for him – that no one cared. Thinking about Sung-rok while imprisoned had been an impossibility. Why bother when his previous life was so far removed from his reality? And now, he had to answer for that disregard.

He stumbled closer, and as he did, Hwi signaled his guards to lower their swords. Sung-rok gave a cursory glance but then did the same.

The two looked at one another, and though they didn’t do something as foolish as hug, Sung-rok did give him a smile that Seon-ho had never seen before. It was enough to make his own mouth fold, a lightness wafting up in his chest.

“Well, it seems you two have a lot of catching up to do…” Hwi said as he slipped back, though he did mention something about a medic. After all, Sung-rok had hurt people, but at the very least, for now, he would not be punished.

~~

Seon-ho and Sung-rok were given use of Hwi’s dining room. Just the two of them and a pot of tea, the tension between them self-inflicted rather than inherently palpable.

“Do you want to be here?” Sung-rok asked first and foremost, evidently so he could release some of his own anxiety about the situation.

It was not easy for Seon-ho to give an answer, but it was harder for him to lie so he didn’t. He knew what Sung-rok needed to hear, and it was the truth - “Not strictly. But Hwi is not forcing me to stay, if that is your worry.”

Sung-rok made a disgruntled noise but accepted it. “Whenever you are ready to leave, you won’t be alone. The last time I let you wander off, you tried to drink away your problems and got yourself arrested.”

Seon-ho didn’t like to be reminded of that moment, but it was a fair accusation. Almost. If it weren’t for the fact that it also scraped at the guilty scab still rife on his conscience.

“I didn’t ask for you to wait for me,” Seon-ho retorted, tongue bleeding in its sharpness, “Not then, and not now. If I die, I die, what is it to you?”

Sung-rok didn’t answer at first. Rather, he held his tea up high without sipping, taking a moment to let Seon-ho stew in his own ingratitude. Sung-rok seemed well aware when the guilt leaked through Seon-ho’s pores enough not to incur another brusque comeback.

“What I do with my time is not your decision,” resolve turned his words from casual to lofty, “What you do next is. And I am not about to miss out on whatever it is you choose. Not after I stuck around for so long already. So what is it to you, Seon-ho?”

Silence was the most natural response to having his own words thrown back at him. The humbling felt necessary, even if Seon-ho was not quite prepared to accept that Sung-rok of all people waited for him to come back.

What had he done to earn such loyalty? He had failed in every goal he had ever attempted – after playing the political game, he did not possess enough power to protect himself or his friends; he had lost Yeon and could not even get retribution against the one who had ordered her death; then, worst of all, he had become Bang-won’s little plaything.

Sung-rok couldn’t know that though, could he? Bang-won had been so very careful. After all, letting rumors of such inclinations spread would not do well for him. In fact, Seon-ho was quite sure only a select few were aware Bang-won used him for more things than mundane labor.

But even without that knowledge, what did Sung-rok see in him? Abruptly, he was utterly disgusted by the mere notion of someone trusting him so much for no good reason. His expression twisted, and he squeezed the cup in his hand so hard he wished he could magically turn it to alcohol so he could at least drown in that.

“Sung-rok, you…”

“Whatever that man did to you, it changes nothing,” Sung-rok interrupted, as though noticing Seon-ho’s thoughts were devolving.

“If anything, the fact that he was threatened enough to try and put you under his thumb proves I was right,” Sung-rok said, meticulously enough that Seon-ho could only stare, “You are a force to be reckoned with. And I want to see this through.”

Seon-ho gaped only to dismiss it. “A force to be reckoned with… Maybe before all this. Sung-rok, I can’t hold a sword anymore. I can’t fight. I’m useless.”

Although it was not the whole truth – that his back was an array of scars thick enough to obstruct his otherwise deft skill - it was less challenging to admit than he thought it would be. The words came out biting, hard and fast. The loathing was an old friend, so easy to brush shoulders with.

Sung-rok for his part did not seem the least bit surprised. Instead, he retaliated, “If you’re useless, then that just means I’ll have to be even more useful. Do you think I’m not up to the task?”

Again, Seon-ho was left blinking – stunned. “Are you stupid? Or are you just being cruel?”

Sung-rok finally drank the tea in his hand, not looking away from Seon-ho as he did so. His eyes narrowed, “I told you I tried to get you out but couldn’t. After, I hired someone to be my eyes. I know that coward had you whipped until you couldn’t hold a weapon. That did not deter me then, and it still doesn’t now. So you will have to learn to fight some other way; I am sure you will manage. Won’t you?”

His dark eyes glittered with something else, something distinctly daring. Ah. Sung-rok knew, as he always seemed to know, that Seon-ho had given up. That he planned on ending it as soon as he got free of Hwi’s stifling obligation.

After all, Seon-ho did not want Hwi to stumble onto his dead body after everything the man had been through. But Seon-ho was so tired. He did not want to fight anymore. As it was, he had wanted to end it before Bang-won sunk his claws into him. He had continued for Hwi, for his own rage, and he had paid for it. Now…

Seon-ho looked away.

A dull thump stole his attention back. His sword laid out on the table, Sung-rok’s brow raised expectantly.

Yeon’s unfinished stitchwork glared up at Seon-ho with all the promises it once whispered, and all the responsibility it still held. He may not be able to wield it like he once could, but that did not mean he couldn’t still carry it.

“You will,” Sung-rok repeated, revoltingly confident. “Now where’s your room? I want the one next to it.”

That pulled an instinctual laugh from the heaviness in Seon-ho’s aching chest, and at first it was so abrupt it hurt. But after a moment, it felt comfortable, and he let himself smile. Maybe he really could manage – especially if Sung-rok remained by his side to challenge him to.

Chapter Text

“Ah, the man with a hundred lives! I am excited to take a look at you again, though this time not your insides so I hear, hmm? Your spine instead?”

Mun-bok’s instant joviality grated at Seon-ho. Particularly after the shock of Sung-rok returning to his side, he had a low threshold for further surprises. Unfortunately he was all too disappointed, because it wasn’t just Mun-bok.

Accompanying the medic was a man that Seon-ho recognized as both a friend of Hwi’s and one of Bang-won’s bodyguards; not one he ever saw up close while in Bang-won’s hold of course.

Like so many other things, Bang-won was meticulous about ensuring no one who would tell Hwi about the furtive slave he kept captive ever saw so much as a glimpse of Seon-ho. It must have taken some maneuvering too, but the strategizing was likely enjoyable for the tyrant.

Considering the bodyguard was here, and he looked quite contrite and uncomfortable, it was likely that he had cut off from Bang-won to help Hwi. Good. Hwi needed as many allies as possible.

“Hwi,” Seon-ho barked, “I said I didn’t need a doctor. Get him out of here.”

“I know you said that. I didn’t listen.”

“Clearly,” Seon-ho grumbled.

“Oh it won’t be a big thing, promise! I have some salve, some booklets with exercises you’ll need to start, and of course I’ll have to take some measurements of the scars… You said they’re thick?” Mun-bok’s eyes were saucer-big. Seon-ho took a step back.

And still, he felt himself caving if only because the medic was right here. He already knew some of the indignity Seon-ho faced. If Mun-bok could help provide some semblance of functionality again, wouldn’t it be worth it? At least, now that Sung-rok said he would not leave. He did not want to be a burden to the man – more than he had already become…

“Fine. Just a quick look. Nothing else.”

“Of course! What else would I do?”

He spoke so sincerely that at least Seon-ho could be sure that Hwi hadn’t spilled his most disgraceful secret. That at least was still between only them, Tae Ryeong, and Bang-won.

~~

In as much as Seon-ho could, he distanced himself from the situation. That required letting his mind float, as he learned to do fairly efficiently while in Bang-won’s clutches. However his tactic backfired on him, since the lackadaisical approach made it too easy to forget that his back did not merely have scarring.

“These scratches, they…” Mun-bok abruptly went silent, though Seon-ho as good as felt his gaze drip down to take in the brutal angle.

There were also bruises on Seon-ho’s hips, a fact he recalled in startling clarity. With Mun-bok’s understanding of anatomy, he must notice everything Seon-ho had been hoping to hide. Why hadn’t he remembered those scratches?! He had been so numb to their almost consistent re-application for so long, he’d forgotten…

He shifted to get up, mumbling something about this being a mistake for the second time since he arrived at Hwi’s.

Mun-bok laid a flat hand over his shoulder before removing it, realizing that was not such a good idea even as he tried to placate, “I can treat them – not just the scratches, but these knots.”

His lilt slipped into something far more serious than Seon-ho would have anticipated from the doctor. “I have seen war, Nam Seon-ho, and before that dire poverty for more years than you and Hwi have even been alive. I am not here to judge or assume. I am here to help a friend of Hwi’s.”

Against the very wriggle of his nauseated stomach, Seon-ho gradually settled back down. Perhaps it was the complete and utter change of Mun-bok’s behavior. Perhaps it was the insistence that he was only here as a favor to Hwi. But considering Mun-bok already knew, what did Seon-ho have to lose by letting him continue?

The examination did not last very long either, and when it was over Mun-bok spoke quietly though the characteristically odd lilt to his voice had returned, “I wish I had gotten to you sooner, but I can tell you have been exercising the muscles. You’ve done well, considering how harsh this is, but you’ll need to do more if you want to regain more flexibility.”

Seon-ho was putting his robes back on while he processed the words, working on tying it when he recognized what was being said. He paused, blinking, “Regain flexibility?”

“Well, yes. These scars are deep, and you won’t be as strong as you once were, but right now you can barely raise your arms above your chest, right? You will be able to get further than that if you take my advice. Oh, and use this. You’ll need to get the whole surface so maybe ask Hwi to help.”

He handed him a jar of what was likely ointment. He recalled when Cheon-yu, the servant who had been a simultaneous barb in his side as well as an intermittent savior, assisted him with the medicine he had been given back then. He spared a moment to pray she was doing well.

Then Mun-bok handed him another jar.

“What is this second one for?”

“For internal damage. Use it if you feel comfortable, but it will help soothe.”

Although Seon-ho still felt far too vulnerable to speak his gratitude, he was quite certain Mun-bok could see it on his face. The man was far more observational than Seon-ho had given him credit for, after all.

~~

Although Seon-ho’s initial plan truly had been to leave that night, he found himself deciding to stay. Not just because he hadn’t had time to organize himself, but because Sung-rok insisted allies of his were meeting up with them and they should stay put for now.

And if Sung-rok of all people suggested they stay with Hwi, who he still hated just short of wreaking retribution, then it seemed prudent to listen.

Regrettably it led to a rather awkward dinner with people Seon-ho never expected to be in the same room with. Hwi, Sung-rok, Hui-jae, Mun-bok, Park Chi-do and that bodyguard of Bang-won’s. He still didn’t know the man’s name, and at this point it felt even more cumbersome to ask. It was not like Seon-ho cared one way or another anyway.

From the moment he stepped into the room, Seon-ho wanted nothing more than to shed his skin and hide somewhere dark and secluded. Not to mention, Hwi was up to something – it was so obvious that Seon-ho could see his brain churning from afar. Somehow Seon-ho mustered the bravery to hold his ground, even if he felt half-conscious the whole time.

The hardest part was facing Hui-jae after so long. Although he too deserved her apology, he had never given her his own – not genuinely, and he was prepared for her disdain. However, he should have known better than to try and predict her attitude.

There was blessedly no pity in her tempered gaze; rather, she seemed more upset at him as well as the situation. The veiled anger was welcome, since it was familiar ground for Seon-ho even if the waves of fury came and went.

As he sat next to Hwi, Hui-jae boldly and quite deliberately stole the seat next to Seon-ho – the same seat Sung-rok aimed for. He seemed apt to bite her head off with the exposed gleam of gritted teeth, but Seon-ho waved it off. Sung-rok instead sat opposite her, which put him next to Chi-do – probably also intentional, seeing as he was still festering for a fight.

Being so near to Hui-jae strickened the very blood in Seon-ho’s veins, rattled by unspoken failure and the tattered but nonetheless present defiance he still felt. He had made his decisions because he felt them necessary, and she had made hers. Their common ground remained Hwi, and even that was rocky for Seon-ho.

She did not speak to him at first, rather letting the routine of the table soak up the spilling tension before venturing into the precariously overfilled cup of history between them.

“Seon-ho,” she whispered during a casual but unimportant conversation that occupied most everyone else. He went rigid, but he did indeed listen. “We have much we could talk about, one day, if we choose to. But for now, the past does not have to be an obstacle. Not for us. Not for you.”

Hui-jae released a very careful breath, her next words clearly as much for herself as for Seon-ho, “Now stop being so stiff and remember we were friends before all this. Let us have one night at least. We deserve it – all of us. And we owe Hwi that much don’t we?”

Her words were simple but nonetheless powerful. Just like Hui-jae managed to swathe through the misconceptions and banal assumptions of men who believed themselves stronger than she, Hui-jae knocked Seon-ho’s petty reticence aside with elegance.

After that, it was easier to relax around her. That did not make the dinner any less strained. It was clear that Sung-rok stayed merely to give Seon-ho a shield, which he appreciated and desperately needed amidst the familiarity between the rest of the people there.

The greatest perk of the dinner was that he finally - finally - got to drink something other than water or tea. The wine tasted sharp and sweet, and it was rewarding in a way Seon-ho knew was dangerous. He had always edged towards numbing his pain with inebriation, and he might have slipped into bad habits were Sung-rok’s judgmental gaze not so heavy. Withal, he drank more than he should – enough to loosen his tongue.

“Hwi has so many wonderful people around him,” dripped from his lips while watching them all interact as though they were family – which he supposed was true. A part of him ached because of it, though he didn’t want to analyze why.

The announcement took everyone by surprise enough to quiet them. Discomfort scratched the surface of Seon-ho’s skin and he instantly wished he could take back the comment.

“Yes,” a voice finally chimed in to ease the turbulence, “And you are number one among them, if you still want to be.”

It was Park Chi-do who spoke; and although Seon-ho had only just become aware of this small group’s dynamics, it seemed rather obvious to him that Chi-do was the only one whose word was resolute and unbiased. Nor would he joke about such a matter.

The terrible, reassuring truth in it was enough to paralyze him, let alone the fact that they were not alone. Everyone heard. Hui-jae… Seon-ho risked a dip in her direction. She did not seem stung, rather, she looked sad and perhaps a little hopeful. Of course, whatever had happened between she and Hwi would have been set aside when Bang-won’s seduction started in earnest. Hwi was not one to toy with anyone’s emotions.

Not even Seon-ho’s; and Hwi’s lack of correction to Chi-do’s comment meant it was true. Seon-ho did not know what to say, so he didn’t. Fortunately Mun-bok graced him with mercy and slyly changed the subject to something truly random – an accomplishment only a strange man like him could achieve.

From the side, Hwi plopped a particularly appetizing mushroom on Seon-ho’s plate. Unlike the last time Hwi gave him extra food, he said nothing. He was grateful for that, seeing as Seon-ho’s own tongue was currently so leaden it might drop into his throat.

He took the mushroom to his mouth rather hastily, not wanting anyone else to see, only to pause when the flavor struck him. It was one of his favorites; Seon-ho had scarcely been grazing on the provided food so he had not yet noticed its presence.

Blinking, he abruptly realized that at least four dishes on the table were his favorites - at least from childhood.

Were he alone, he would have lost all composure. As it was, he held back a barrage of sensation creeping up from his chest. He did not deserve Hwi, but it was rather obvious to him he had no choice in the matter. And in this case, he did not mind having no say; as long as he proved worthy of it.

Seon-ho forced himself to join in more of the conversation after that, assisted by the makgeolli, and from there the rest of dinner passed without complication. At least until Mun-bok and his friend were set to leave.

The friend, the one who had been Bang-won’s bodyguard, approached Seon-ho. He immediately went tight, though not out of fear or concern. He knew this man must be dangerous, or Bang-won would not have hired him, but he was also a bit of a lumbering oaf from what Seon-ho could tell from his interactions with the others – especially Mun-bok who he seemed closest too.

As it is, the man wobbled a bit with contrition and distress. “I am sorry for what he did to you. If I had known, I would have helped. I thought he was a good man… I was wrong.”

Seon-ho scowled because it was his most instinctual reaction, but also because he did not particularly want to hear this. “You do not need to apologize. It’s not your business in the first place.”

That seemed to sting the man, and Seon-ho could not fathom why. He huffed, “I don’t even know your name. Why do you care about what happened to me? You shouldn’t.”

The other sniffed, his gaze hardening. “My name is Jung-beom. There, now you know. And I care because like Chi-do said, you are important to Hwi.”

More appeared poised on the edge of Jung-beom’s tongue, but he visibly clamped them down beyond one statement. “I will help you and Hwi, whatever it takes.”

Promise given, Jung-beom pivoted back and returned to Mun-bok’s side, his nerves still showing. Seon-ho wasn’t sure what to do with all of this. The night itself, as well as the support, and from strangers! Doubly so when he caught Hui-jae staring and it seemed as though she might ask for him to accompany her and Hwi.

Being alone with those two was the opposite of what he knew his stomach and mind could handle, so he retreated with a guilty swallow and turn of his head. Before he vanished, he grabbed a bottle of makgeolli – fortunately not full, or he might have felt worse for giving into temptation. Either way, it was sufficient to be both good and bad company for himself in his borrowed room.

~~

Not long after finishing the stolen spirit, he fell asleep only to wake in a cold sweat. Rather than attempting to go back to sleep, since he knew he would fail, Seon-ho simply sat up. He looped an arm around his knees and leaned his forehead there, reigning in his breath and rapid heartbeat. His vision was still a bit wavy too, though the alcohol was more of an undercurrent than a blanket.

His gaze slanted over to where his sword leaned on the wall, Yeon’s ribbon turned so he could see it. He forced himself to keep looking, even if the mere sight of it sunk barbs into his chest.

His rat’s nest of a mind buzzed and crawled with gnawing thoughts, all of them driven by a hopeless fear that this bout of freedom would end in captivity and death – and not necessarily his own. He was worried for Hwi; he knew full well what sort of atrocities Bang-won could convince himself was his right, and it was not beyond his capabilities to decide he wanted Hwi anyways. To hurt him the way he had hurt Seon-ho, though out of a completely different desire.

His absolute nightmare of contemplation was interrupted with a calm voice saying his name and a knock. In spite of knowing it meant Hwi wanted to talk, Seon-ho was thankful to escape the images in his head.

“Come in,” he said, shocked at how pleasant it was to realize he could tell Hwi to leave and he would. To have some semblance of control over his space had been absent from his life for a long time. Perhaps even his whole life.

“Can’t sleep?” Hwi commented needlessly, though how mundane it was satisfied something deep in Seon-ho, “Me neither. Can I… sit by you?”

Seon-ho’s palms tightened around his knees but he nodded with a stiff lip. Despite not being sure he was ready for proximity to another human again on a bed mat, this was Hwi, and Seon-ho inexplicably wanted him close.

Perhaps that had been why it was so easy to agree to come back with him in the first place, despite it being a horrible idea.

Hwi settled himself so he was cross-legged, putting a good stick of space between he and Seon-ho. He placed a candle near enough that the light flickered on and off their faces, but was not enough to illuminate the whole room. It was strangely comfortable, as was the quiet that followed. It lasted for quite a while, and when the air felt primed and ready, Hwi spoke.

“Seon-ho?”

“Hmm?” he responded without looking.

“When you leave, I want to go with you. I am sure Hui-jae will help us cover our tracks, and Chi-do knows a place we can hide…”

Of course Hwi did not want to leave him. Seon-ho knew this request was going to come, and he was still as ill-prepared to face it as he was when Hwi convinced him to stay. But at least there was something different about this from before.

“You would leave Bang-won alone?”

Hwi nodded, voice taking an even more pensive turn, “He is not who I thought he was. Even before I found you, Yi Seong-gye hinted to me about something else. Seon-ho, I think Bang-won had a hand in my father’s death. I am sure the King did too, but…”

The snap of his chin as he turned was so abrupt that there was an immediate crick in Seon-ho’s neck. “What? Bang-won? Your father?”

At a loss, he just gaped. Hwi gave him a sad smile that conveyed far more than what was bubbling on the surface, “Yes. I believe Seong-gye was trying to sow discord between Bang-won and I, but it still got to me. I found some of the old records about my father’s supposed crimes, and it seems possible Bang-won bribed the man who accused him. Until now, I trusted him too much to believe speculation.”

“Why would you not want revenge?” Seon-ho asked with breathless fire. His mind was very nearly unable to keep up. Bang-won’s list of crimes kept growing, and Seon-ho’s conviction that he could not possibly punish the man was waning. If Bang-won killed Hwi’s father, then everything that had happened to Hwi as a consequence was his fault.

Bang-won was the source of so many ills, and yet the man held his secrets as justifications rather than sins.

“Because where would it end?” Hwi sighed, “If I go after Bang-won, there are so many things that could go wrong. You could get hurt again, even Hui-jae or Beom, any of you. And I… I could die earlier than this poison in my veins wants. Now that I have you back, I meant what I said. I do not want to lose you again. So let’s… Let’s run away.”

Seon-ho truly looked at Hwi for the first time since he left Bang-won’s; remarkably unafraid of what he might see shining back in melting eyes. And he was no disappointed. Seon-ho saw the boy he knew, and the man he wanted to know in spite of his own darker inclinations. He saw someone willing to give up a life-long vendetta just to be free and with Seon-ho.

Could he do the same? After all Seon-ho knew about Bang-won now, could he give it up?

His chest fractured into tiny, fluttering pieces; some tried to work their way out of him in the form of tears. Seon-ho looked away again, trying to hide his pathetic emotions. It was not the best move, seeing as now he was looking at his sword and Yeon’s last gift.

Old pains cropped up. The sting in his eyes became too much to bear. In an effort to usher them back down, his face did some rather embarrassing contortions; at least Hwi couldn’t see those. What he did not expect was for Hwi to reach out with tender fingers and cup his shoulder. Seon-ho shuddered, but he did not pull away. Not this time – not even when Hwi handed him a piece of cloth.

He recognized the name on it as his own, realizing with a start that it was the piece of Yeon’s ribbon he believed long since lost in his fight with a warrior he had speculated was Hwi even before the evidence proved as much.

Hwi had it the whole time. His name, as Yeon saw it. Orabeoni she had called him. A lie, like everything else in Yeon’s existence under Nam Jeon’s roof, but the only lie that brought Seon-ho any solace; as double-edged as it was.

“I am sorry,” Hwi said as he let the ribbon settle in Seon-ho’s trembling grasp, “About before all this.”

Seon-ho folded his fingers, tracing the coarse stitching.

“About leaving you to handle Yeon’s death on your own. Leaving you with her killer,” that in particular caused Hwi’s guilt to flash hot and potent in his tone, “I was so absorbed in my own anger I didn’t see your pain.”

All attempts to keep his emotions in check were for nothing. Tears fell, enough that Seon-ho’s head bobbed with the force. Once he felt he had sniffled enough back in, he acknowledged it with a nod before offering his own needed apology. “I should not have let my father use you. Or Yeon. Especially Yeon. I thought I was protecting her. I thought I was protecting you… I should have been less selfish.”

Hwi’s fingers lightly squeezed his shoulder as he leaned in, “We both thought politics would change things. We thought we could make a difference.”

Oh didn’t they just! Seon-ho had believed usurping his father’s name and power would stop others from trampling over him, and Hwi had believed in his own strength and that of Bang-won. The both of them couldn’t have been more wrong.

“And I am sorry I didn’t find you earlier,” Hwi reiterated not for the first time, but it landed so very differently now. Perhaps it was the intimate darkness that allowed for Seon-ho to just accept. “I remember now, your voice calling me at Bang-won’s. I thought it was just my imagination, and later that same night, I… Bang-won and I…”

He tugged his hand away, and Seon-ho veritably felt the mortification making a home in Hwi’s conscience. Seon-ho wanted to say it wasn’t Hwi’s fault. He wanted to soothe him. A silly urge – he could not even soothe himself. Instead, he found himself divulging. It would probably make it so much worse, yet the urge to unhook the itchy threads of secrecy were too natural to stray from.

“You two kissed. I know. He told me,” Seon-ho sucked in a breath and the shake of thankfully slowing tears. Once more he was too ashamed for eye contact, but the gentle nudge of Hwi’s understanding presence was enough to keep the deluge of honesty from abating.

“It was the same night he went through with his threats on me,” his tongue momentarily stuck to the roof of his mouth, “He was driven by his desire for you, and he liked to dangle your affection for him in front of me.”

There was a pause, then a meticulous “The same night?”

Seon-ho was so very glad he didn’t have to see Hwi’s dawning horror; it might have made him shutter off again. As it was, the temptation to curl back into himself scraped at his skin.

When Hwi spoke again, it was with a dangerous tremor, “So you really do know about us. You…”

A brittle laugh drifted out, along with a tumble of indignation – although it flowed from self-loathing. “Worse. I didn’t just know.”

He was not sure why he said it; the impulse was just too sudden and too strong. He had let something slip that first night with Hwi too. He hoped to be ignored, opening his mouth to surge into something else, when Hwi revealed he hadn’t forgotten that first night either.

“You mentioned something like that before. That you heard what happened with Bang-won and I.”

Hwi did not sound accusatory, rather more encouraging though not pushy. He was inviting Seon-ho to share, to relieve some of the burden. Seon-ho was not sure he actually wanted to, but his reflexes had started this pour under the strain of memory and fear. He wished to be through shackling it all strictly to himself, as he was once himself chained.

And if he were to tell anyone this, of course it would be Hwi. It would have also been Yeon, once upon a time. Yes, Seon-ho had a debt to bear, but he also had pain to bare; and Hwi had only ever borne it with him throughout these years and into now.

“He made me listen to you,” Seon-ho admitted with cracked syllables, “The first time you went to his room – when he asked if he could touch you.”

He scoffed at the memory; Bang-won asked Hwi for what he readily took from Seon-ho. It still stung, but the wet guilt to his voice and the steady potential of further tears softened the rancor.

“I was there. Locked in a closet. More than that, he…” Seon-ho paused, realizing he couldn’t be overly descriptive to Hwi. Not when sidestepping would serve the same purpose. But he still wanted to tell the truth – so Hwi could understand him. The only one who could.

“He gave me something. Something strong,” the simmering humiliation in his tone made it clear what that meant, as did the shift of his fingers clutching his robes. “After you left that night, he did what he wanted and mocked me for it. He brought you up. He often brought you up, ever since the first time he kissed you. Bang-won manipulated you, and I had to watch you fall for it.”

A rattle sounded in Hwi’s lungs, audible considering how close they were. “He used us both. And he used me against you.”

Nothing further needed to be said about that. The consequences of Bang-won’s obsession with making Hwi his had been felt all too intimately by both of them.

“Seon-ho…”

Normally, he would snap at the sympathy in Hwi’s voice. But Seon-ho was so tired, and for once, he was able to recognize that this sympathy was commiseration. That and a plea of its own. Seon-ho answered without thought.

He slid back, face still pointed away, right into Hwi’s side. Leaning on the man bolstered him enough that he allowed the rising tremor of tears to claim him. Before he knew it, Hwi had turned, hands hovering in offer. With tears wet on his cheeks and lips, Seon-ho nodded – again and again until his head was cushioned by Hwi’s shoulder as he was brought back to rest.

“Weak,” trickled from the lump in Seon-ho’s throat, “I’m so weak.”

He had more to say but speaking was akin to dragging slivers out of his lips. Instead the words all flooded to his own mind, ricocheting with sharp edges.

He suddenly pulled away from where he had just finallysettled on Hwi, fingers clawing at his scalp. He was so very glad that the threads of his hair went vertical rather than the loose, horizontal vulnerability Bang-won had forced on him for so long.

He sucked in a wavering breath at an abrupt realization, “I don’t even know how long it’s been. Days have no meaning – Hwi, how long since my father’s death?”

The desperation was embarrassing, but a long-decaying dam had burst in Seon-ho and he could not hold it back.

Hwi answered with shamefaced sorrow, “A year.”

The calming breath Seon-ho had just drawn splintered in his lungs. It had been so many seasons – all of them in fact – since Bang-won had taken him. It should not mean that much, but it did.

Air was not so easy to recapture, his chest heaving. Absently he realized he was close to hyperventilating, so he did his best to regain his senses. He didn’t want Hwi to see that, after everything he had witnessed already.

“You’re not weak,” Hwi said with such force that it offered the anchor Seon-ho had been so sloppily seeking, “You’re one of the strongest people I know and that hasn’t changed. No matter what Bang-won did, no matter what you tell me or don’t tell me; though I will listen to whatever you have to say.”

Fingers once more found his shoulder. Seon-ho shook but did not give in to the insistent urge to let Hwi wrap him up again.

“You said that you barely fought,” Hwi gnashed his teeth, “That ‘all it took was a couple floggings’. Like even one is easy to handle.”

Having his own words parroted back at him with such obvious disbelief was another balm over Seon-ho’s heavy burden. Were it anyone other than Hwi, it would have been infuriating, but Hwi had clearly been waiting to bring this up. He felt strongly about it, and Seon-ho longed to listen and be swaddled in his compassion – not a desire he let himself cave to very often; if ever.

“I saw those scars,” Hwi reminded with a wisp of remorse, “That was not ‘just a couple’ anything. You’re not weak, Seonho-ya.”

The slip of such familiar affection stuttered Seon-ho’s pulse, inviting comfort inside like a cool rain on a hot day.

“You’ve been through the unspeakable, and you’re alive. You’re here, and you’re my friend. I’m not giving up on you. On us. We will survive Bang-won, and we will do better.”

Although it seemed impossible to get away from all this muck – both that of their past and the unknown of the future – Seon-ho believed Hwi in this moment. The man always had a way of making the impossible happen. Certainly, the morning would bloom with insistent fears but for now they had been chased away. So he leaned back, giving permission to be touched again.

It had once been common for them to sit side by side, back to back. It had not been that way for years, and yet the instinct was still there. Still natural. And it felt all the more natural to deepen their touch – to not merely be side by side, but very nearly melded together. Hwi’s arms encircled him while his own fingers got lost in the robes closest to Hwi’s heart.

It seemed shamefully juvenile, to be so warm and feel so protected in Hwi’s embrace, but for once Seon-ho allowed himself to feel safe. To feel like he belonged. Even if there was still so much yet to say between them, so many secrets Seon-ho had held for longer than their grudges.

He did let a single one of those tremoring secrets leak. Words of love, mouthed into the robes over Hwi’s shoulder. Words Hwi could not possibly read from Seon-ho’s covered lips, an admission he could not yet share out loud. But at least he spoke his heart as though he might never get the chance again; even silently, even if he was the only one to hear it.

Chapter Text

“You said a couple days, Hwi, and it has been three. Don’t look so surprised.”

The tenor of Bang-won’s voice was as simultaneously gruff and soft as always, expectant in its authority.

The world dropped out from under Seon-ho’s feet – Bang-won wasn’t supposed to be here. They were so close to being gone. It was almost nightfall, which was how long they were going to wait for Sung-rok to return with his allies. If he didn’t arrive by dusk, they were to meet at the rendezvous where Mun-bok and Beom would be waiting for them.

But it was foolish to think agreeing to stay with Hwi did not mean Bang-won became aware of their every move.

“If you’re waiting for Park Chi-do, you will find he won’t be coming. He is a wonderful soldier and a good leader, but Chi-Do is not your father, Hwi, and more of his men happen to be loyal to me.”

The audacity to so much as mention Hwi’s father nearly consumed the nausea claiming Seon-ho, though the fear that Chi-do might be injured or dead because of him took the forefront. He looked over to check Hwi’s sentiment on the matter, but he seemed no more than reasonably upset. Were their places switched, Seon-ho would have jumped at Bang-won for bringing up Seo Geom, but fortunately he was not Hwi. Hwi was far more diplomatic, and he knew Bang-won better despite his cocoon of lies.

Bang-won took a moment to explain further, rather needlessly, but it did serve as a reminder of who was in control of this situation, “I did not want us to be disturbed by strangers.”

Indeed, only Tae Ryeong was in the room with them – allowed to be present because of all he was privy to about Hwi, Seon-ho, and Bang-won. He assuredly hated how much he knew, but that was why he was the perfect choice. Tae Ryeong was loyal to just one of them, and did not desire in a way that would be a threat to his master.

No one else could know about Bang-won’s less than savory obsessions after all, lest that person have to be dealt with. As it was, Hwi’s guards had probably been knocked out – if they were even loyal in the first place – and replaced with Bang-won’s who were far enough away to be out of earshot. Still close enough to answer any call of violence.

If Chi-do wasn’t coming, and Sung-rok was unlikely to show, then Hwi and Seon-ho were alone.

“Is Chi-do alive?” Hwi asked, ever focused on his friends.

“I instructed that he be left unharmed if he cooperates,” Bang-won tilted his head, “But we both know he will fight. I promise you, he will not be killed. I know you care for him.”

A gnarled smile overtook Hwi, “And of course that matters to you.”

It was not a question – Bang-won would not outright kill one of Hwi’s closest friends. Not when he obviously still wanted to try and convince Hwi to remain loyal to him. He would use every card he had to play, which must have been why his eyes slid to Seon-ho so naturally.

His back went rigid at the stare, though Seon-ho meticulously tailored his expression to reveal but a fraction of the panic percolating in every crevice. No point in hiding it completely. Bang-won knew Seon-ho by now – even this mask would be amusing to him. And of course it was, though the boisterous but short-lived laugh he offered was still somehow a surprise.

“Seon-ho. Pretending to be capable now that you have Hwi to protect you?”

Curses slammed into the wall of Seon-ho’s clenched teeth. He didn’t even realize he took a step forward when Hwi’s hand settled over his own, so both of them were holding Seon-ho’s sword hilt.

“Yes, listen to Hwi,” Bang-won hummed in mocking approval, “We both know you can’t lift that thing. You must be more of a glutton for punishment than I knew, carrying a sword again.”

“Leave him out of this,” Hwi snapped, “You’ve done enough.”

Bang-won waved a hand at that, “He is involved whether I like it or not. Aren’t you? You did say you would make sure Hwi returned. I thought we had an understanding, Seon-ho, especially about what would happen if you didn’t.”

“There has never been an understanding between us,” Seon-ho spat.

“You have forgotten so much in a mere few days. What a shame. I thought myself more memorable than that.”

Although Bang-won was not acting as cruel as he could be, a frost of memory nevertheless dripped down Seon-ho’s back, nestling in the old and fresh scars alike.
“Of course you’re memorable,” Hwi said, “But you don’t have to be.”

“Is that a threat?” Bang-won held the question on a poised edge.

“No. It is a request.”

Bang-won considered it, seemingly knowing what was being asked. Let them all forget this, and part ways without a fight. It was clear in Bang-won’s pulsing eyes that he would refuse.

“Let us talk then, Hwi,” no rush to his tone, and no room for Hwi to deny him, “If we are to move on, there are things that must be said. You have every right to be angry with me. I hid Seon-ho from you. I hurt him.”

His gaze flickered over. Seon-ho tried to tell himself the attention wasn’t sticky, but his spine wanted so much to crack under the pressure.

“But it changes nothing you know about me. I conquer those who seek too far above what they can handle, and I reward those who are worthy and strong. You have known this, and until now accepted it.”

Of course Bang-won wanted Hwi to understand him, to see how righteous he was even when he was grinding someone under his boot. Before the one on the ground was Seon-ho, Hwi had been devoted to Bang-won in spite of his ruthless behavior.

“It has become too personal for you, and I regret making you question what you know to be true. I have reparations to make, and I will. For you.”

Sincerity was Bang-won’s staple, but it was always twisted with his selfish perspective. He believed in himself more than anyone or anything, and that constancy was comforting if you were someone Bang-won wished to reward.

His heartbeat was raucous in Seon-ho’s ear as he saw the minute shifts of Hwi’s expression; clearly taken aback by the near-apology, and the reminder that he did not question Bang-won’s attitude until it was Seon-ho being hurt. He was being made to feel guilty, and it seemed to be working.

“How dare you,” Seon-ho started to say, but of course Bang-won was not to be interrupted.

His tenor changed, whetted and imperious enough that Seon-ho could not get through. “You like being favored, Hwi. You know it is your right. I want you by my side because you belong there, and I do not intend on losing you to a former slave.”

The grainy harshness to the word slave devoured the former that came prior. It was a deliberate slap, one that had both Hwi and Seon-ho subconsciously reacting. Hwi tried to move backwards, but Bang-won tucked his folded fan under his chin to compel him to stop.

Seon-ho however responded far more viscerally; his mind blanched before drenching red. He didn’t even realize he was unsheathing his sword when Tae Ryeong stepped up to slide his blade on top of Seon-ho’s. He slipped in behind him as well, his sheer bulk making it impossible for Seon-ho to be able to get a good look at him, let alone be able to aim his cowed blade. Not that he could lift it for long – as Bang-won said earlier.

The gesture put a finite halt on his infuriated instincts, but more than that, Tae Ryeong used the moment to pull Seon-ho a few steps away from Bang-won and Hwi. He resisted, but were he to throw himself into it, this discussion might explode into a fight Hwi and Seon-ho could not win. Embarrassment crept up hot, loathing the fact that he was now so inept with a sword.

“It is the truth of what he was,” Bang-won said as an attempt to balm, “What Beom was. Neither are, not anymore; both their papers have been burned. If you stay with me, they will remain that way. Them and every other slave. I will free all of them. No more slavery, only paid servants. A new country, Hwi, prosperous and free of bonds.”

There was a quake to Hwi’s expression and it terrified Seon-ho. Was he falling for this?

“And all because you want me to forgive you?” Hwi sounded meek in a way that was unexpected, “Not at all because your father already started those reforms, so it would be easy to continue?”

Ah. The modest lilt made sense now; an additional jab at Bang-won’s supposed sincerity. A cloud rolled over Bang-won’s gaze.

“And only if I stay with you,” Hwi added, “What will happen if I do not?”

“The reforms will still pass,” Bang-won promised, his tone every inch the confident king he saw himself as.

“Good, I am glad you are not holding a whole people hostage just to get me back. But you are holding Seon-ho hostage. And Beom. If I do not stay with you, what happens to them? What happens to me?”

Before Bang-won could answer, Hwi reached up to grab the closed fan and push it aside, lowering his unhindered chin, “Will you kill me like you killed my father?”

Slippery tendrils of unspoken atrocities hooked the very air around them, tightening their hold enough to suffocate. Bang-won’s eyes went wide for but a millisecond, but it was long enough to destabilize him. Hwi waited expectantly, holding the high ground now.

“I knew my father’s wagging tongue would get to you,” Bang-won hummed before moving on like this was ordinary, “I will not deny it, but I was not the only one invested in Seo Geom’s death. I was going to tell you.”

“Before or after you took me to bed?”

“When it was time to decide my father’s fate once I became king,” he amended with raised brows, “I wanted to give you a choice about how to deal with him. And how you wanted me to be punished.”

Seon-ho had no doubt that Bang-won would have bowed to almost any retribution Hwi desired; but conveniently not at the risk of his father’s life, or his own, seeing as he would have ultimate power.

“So magnanimous. So like a king,” Hwi practically vibrated with bitterness, “But you did not answer my question. What will you do if I say no?”

Bang-won’s gaze glimmered, but not darkly – rather, his brown eyes were lighter than Seon-ho had ever seen them. “If you leave, you will die.”

The promise was casual, and yet, it was not personal. Not even a threat but rather a fact. And it had nothing to do with any violence Bang-won could inflict.

“I will give you the best physicians to treat the rot Nam Jeon left in your veins, but without me you will succumb sooner rather than later. You know that. Why squander your life to gain a few months, maybe a year, when you could have so much more. You needn’t suffer any longer, and neither does Seon-ho.”

Seon-ho bristled, lurching forward enough to make Tae Ryeong remind him of his presence with the edge of his sword over Seon-ho’s wrists.

“I still want you as my man. And Seon-ho will be yours.”

Dominion was all Bang-won truly understood, and to him, protection was the same as possession. All Seon-ho heard was intimidation, Bang-won using their lives as bargaining chips to leash Hwi to him. But on Hwi, he saw starbursts of haunted resignation rise and scatter all over the nuance of his sweet face. He appeared tempted by this proposal even if it would steal his autonomy as well as Seon-ho’s.

Perhaps the reality of his own death played out in his mind’s eye at this very moment, the harsh truth that Bang-won was the only one with resources enough to save Hwi’s life ringing stark. Whether his temptation was real or just for show, watching him be cornered like this was far too much for Seon-ho. Arrows of wrath sizzled straight to his reflexes from where they had long stewed in his belly, driving him forward to test Tae Ryeong’s hold on him.

The response was lightning quick and far too eager to be anything but built-up anticipation – Tae Ryeong’s blade lifted up only to smack against the flat of Seon-ho’s sword at the same time the man reached out with his free hand. Although Seon-ho tried to duck, he wasn’t sure what Tae Ryeong was aiming for until fingers raked across his scalp, bunching easily around the ribbon holding his hair up.

His arms shook with the vibration of Tae Ryeong’s reprimanding slap, fingers already numb from holding his weapon up for longer than he has in over a year. When a sudden, terribly familiar pinch ignited in the back of his right shoulder, his sword fell from his grasp as a jolt of pain flayed his throat with a humiliating scream.

He knew the jagged yield of skin and muscle to an intruding blade as intimately as men other than Seon-ho welcomed a loving kiss. But this was not a typical jut of a sword; it was shallow and slow, turning meticulously but not deeply. It was meant simply to hurt, not to maim.

When he tried to pull away, the grip on his hair acted as a petty obstacle; he couldn’t turn properly because of the sword in his flesh, and he couldn’t tug far enough away to dislodge it.

Using his hair to keep him pinned was deliberate. Tae Ryeong despised him, and Seon-ho returned the disdain, but more than that he thought he was better than Seon-ho. Just like Bang-won. Reducing Seon-ho to his condition as a slave at Bang-won’s feet, hair weaponized against him and throat scraped raw from a graze of agony, must have felt distinctly satisfying for the man.

Seon-ho hated him before, but now the rage was unbearable – and still as feckless as when he was a slave.

“Tae Ryeong!” A command, a furious one at that; not something Seon-ho ever expected to hear from Bang-won.

The pain let up, though Tae Ryeong did not remove his sword. Seon-ho gulped in as many breaths as he could to clear out the remnants of his hoarse cry.

“He was going to attack you,” came the toneless response.

The explanation was not enough for Bang-won, who looked liable to rip Tae Ryeong to shreds after this. Seon-ho knew as certainly then as he did earlier – Bang-won was going easy on him for Hwi’s sake. If he did not still wish to impress Hwi, to keep him, then Bang-won would have taken his quarter from Seon-ho’s flesh already. For Tae Ryeong to act on it without Bang-won’s permission jeopardized everything he was trying to accomplish.

Bang-won shook his head with a pop of his jaw, “Do not hurt him any further.”

Seon-ho choked on the sensation of metal gliding past damaged muscle even while the sight of Bang-won looming over Hwi stung more. At the very least, Hwi was not giving Bang-won the merit of his attention. Rather, he was concentrated on Seon-ho like averting his gaze was not even an option.

In his splintered-brown eyes was an inferno that would burn lesser men, but Bang-won and Tae Ryeong were not lesser men. They were beasts.

Suddenly there was a shout, but for once it did not resonate from him. It came from behind him, and though he longed to see vindicating pain on Tae Ryeong’s face, the urge was fleeting when compared to the sight of Hwi pulling away from a shocked Bang-won to drive his sword right into the man’s stomach.

The vision before him did not feel real; Bang-won’s mouth gaped rather inelegantly as he stared, virtually bug-eyed at Hwi. His fingers curled around Hwi’s blade, soon to be slick with his own blood. To his surprise, and even to Seon-ho’s, Hwi drove his sword deeper before tugging it back, cold and true. He clearly meant to strike again, before Bang-won caught up and drew his own blade.

Hwi would be too late. Seon-ho knew he would be too late.

He scrabbled for his fallen sword, still ignoring the skitter of battle occurring behind him – the clamor of blade on blade and grunts of exertion. Puulse hammering in his ear, his vision narrowed and blipped with flares of pain and fear. The latter was far more pronounced, curdling in his belly. Hwi had to be okay, he had to live through this. Bang-won would not take Hwi from him on top of everything else he’d stolen.

He heard Hwi’s cry at the same time his fingers curled around the wind-worn cloth of Yeon’s gift. Disregarding the creak of his muscles, he lifted it. Instantly, he almost lost it again. Ah yes; his right arm was rather useless now. He tightened his grip with his left, wielding it with both palms as he stood and charged before he even took in the scene.

Bang-won had Hwi on the defensive, parrying blow after blow, despite the way he was hunched just enough to prove the wound Hwi gave him hurt. On top of that, Bang-won was so very focused on getting Hwi to back down that he did not notice Seon-ho diving in from the side. Or perhaps Bang-won saw him as so innocuous that he discounted him as a viable threat.

Either way, luck was on Seon-ho’s side. Even the fact that Seon-ho aimed his sword like a spear but could not move it upward was an asset rather than a detriment. He missed the ribcage so very easily, piercing through what he hoped was Bang-won’s intestine. There was resistance at first, but Seon-ho threw his whole weight behind it, even if it caused him to topple over a bit himself.

It was worth it, seeing as it brought him closer to Bang-won’s features, incredulous at who else would dare injure him.

Ensnared in each other’s rage, Bang-won was mid-reproach when Hwi slid his blade in a second time, just opposite from his first strike. Pinned between them, Bang-won raised his sword in an endeavor to take down at least one of them. Seon-ho’s heart leapt to his throat. He prayed Bang-won chose to kill him.

Bang-won never got his sword high enough to bring down – instead yet another blade protruded from his back, this one close enough to his spine that his body went into immediate shock.

Mouth open, Seon-ho followed the silver, bloodstained weapon up to a stoic-faced Chi-do. There was blood trickling from his mouth and nose, and he was overall worse for wear, but he was alive and he was here.

And so, three men Bang-won had tried to control held the man stuck. As though he were a spit roasted boar and not the future King of Joseon.

Seon-ho supposed he wasn’t the future King of anyone now, was he?

He huffed in surprise, perilously close to pitching into what might be deranged laughter.

“While my back was turned,” Bang-won mused, crushing his fingers even tighter over Hwi’s blade; were he to escape from this alive, how deep he was cutting himself would matter, “Hwi, such underhanded treachery. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“You do not deserve the honor of a fair fight,” Hwi’s soulful irises glittered with sorrow, “When have you ever offered it? Not to my father. Not to Seon-ho. And you weren't going to give it to me.”

Bang-won’s red-blossom lips crept into a smile at the same time blood seeped up over teeth and mouth. The mouth that had brought Seon-ho so much pain.

“As always, you are ever the fair one,” Bang-won dripped with bitterness as both his voice and body hemorrhaged what remained of his mighty strength.

When Seon-ho envisioned Bang-won’s death at his own hand, it was with him cursing and overcome with fury. His scream-hoarse voice spelling out just how unworthy Seon-ho was for taking his life even as he deteriorated. But such thoughts had only ever been guilty pleasures.

Of course Bang-won would expire with disgusting nobility rather than desperately claw at last-minute vengeance. Although, the fact that he had not spoken to Seon-ho was a final stake in his pride; Seon-ho was not even good enough to disparage with dying breath. At least he got to watch the buildup of wrath in the devolving rigor of Bang-won’s expression. Brows furrowed, lips twitching with words crumbling to dust in the blood that continued to dribble from his mouth.

That rewarding despair would stay trapped in his decaying heart – and Seon-ho savored every second of it.

He never thought he would actually see Bang-won punished like this – his sins burying him. Satisfaction coursed thickly through his veins, vivid like only the thrill of revenge and subsequent survival could be.

“The world will remember you for what you are, Bang-won,” Seon-ho promised, though he was not sure Bang-won wasn’t already too far gone to hear, “A tyrant.”

Would they though? Seon-ho could not be sure, but it felt good to say.

Bang-won was nothing but weighty meat on the tips of their swords now, but Seon-ho didn’t bother to yank his weapon out. Rather, exhaustion caught up with him as he fell back, fully anticipating he would hit the ground.

Instead, Sung-rok caught him, guiding him gradually to the ground. Sung-rok was not alone either, there were other men behind him. Men with furs, who spoke the language that Sung-rok talked in when he slept.

“Oh,” Seon-ho noted absently, “Those were the allies. Your people.”

Sung-rok nodded, “Yes. Chi-do met up with us before we made it to the rendezvous point and told us the Black Snakes had been compromised. We got here just on time so it seems, though not before you got skewered again… You really do have some bad habits, Seon-ho.”

Seon-ho hummed in response, taking the time to look around. He saw Tae Ryeong lying just a few meters away, staring with wide, blank eyes. Sung-rok rumbled when he noticed where Seon-ho was looking, and he knew full well precisely who had obtained retribution for him. Seon-ho wished he’d done it himself, but since it had been Sung-rok’s blade, that was as good as reaping justice himself.

He could hear Chi-do telling Hwi how they came to save the day just a few feet away, although he could not hear the details. That was okay, since when he caught Hwi’s eyes, the man came right over. Sung-rok didn’t need to be told to move, though Seon-ho was still surprised when Hwi simply took Sung-rok’s place – letting Seon-ho lean back on his lap.

The angle was awkward, and he grumbled. “I can get up you know. Just… give me a second…”

“Seon-ho, let yourself rest for once. You got stabbed. Again!” Hwi was working a piece of ripped cloth around Seon-ho’s arm and shoulder to staunch the bloodflow.

“It’s not that bad! I’m not even sure why I fell,” it was the shock of it all, everything that had just happened, not his wound – but Seon-ho would not admit it. “Wait... you got hurt too. Are you okay?”

“It’s just a flesh wound. Don’t give me that look, it really is. I’ve got it bandaged, and I’ll let Mun-bok see to it when we meet up with them.”

Hopefully they were safe and sound, but Seon-ho didn’t have the energy to think about if they weren’t. What was far more pressing was the fact that they’d just killed Prince Jeongan. The man who tortured and chained him. Whose hands scarred him and brought him low. Dead…

An exhilarated pang stirred up his insides, as much anxiety as it was delight.

“How are we going to get away with this…”

“We have options yet. Bang-won has plenty of enemies, and once Chi-do told the Black Snakes who was at fault for my father’s death, well, that loyalty he mentioned worked against him.”

Seon-ho laughed at that, the chime genuinely warm though short. “What of Yi Seong-gye?”

“He wants use of my father’s men. I can leverage that against him, I think, and if not, we will just run farther. I have always been curious about Nippon… I hear they have skills in medicine that can cure almost any ailment.”

Seon-ho was skeptical, not understanding half of what Hwi said. His father’s men? How many were there?! But the idea of medicine to be found in Nippon, now that had potential. He did not want to lose Hwi to the exact fear that Bang-won had held over their heads; particularly now that they had eliminated the predator on their tail.

His mind soared at the thought of traveling with Hwi. Of being safe with him, as long as they freed themselves from what remained here in Joseon. The thoughts rose with a hope so bursting that it spilled over before Seon-ho could think about the consequences.

“I love you.”

Hwi started, blinking at Seon-ho in a terribly endearing way that had every part of him wriggling with simultaneous bliss and trepidation.

“And I love you,” Hwi said, almost confused, “Though I didn’t think you’d be the first to say it. I planned on just showing you until you understood what I meant… That’d give me time to understand it too. And now you had to go and jump ahead. Aish!”

Hwi’s whole face was joyously crinkled, and it went right to Seon-ho’s starving heart.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, though he didn’t mean it. Once more, he didn’t bother with thinking it through – Seon-ho just reached up, settling on Hwi’s cheek. His fingers aligned, coasting down the contours of Hwi’s face while he spoke so the gesture was more casual than awkward.

“See, Seon-ho? We are doing better already,” Hwi used the same words he had the night prior, “Soon, there will be no one between us anymore. Just us, and our friends. We’ll make our own way yet, I promise you.”

Hwi’s optimism was contagious, and Seon-ho found himself believing – at least a little, and that was enough to start. He nodded, searching the features he knew so well, spotting all kinds of new tells and depths. Or, not new. Just things he had not noticed before. Perhaps even things Hwi didn’t want him to see.

Hwi was a great actor if the situation called for it; and if he had used that talent on Seon-ho, he was right to do so. Had Hwi shined this sort of emotion on him any sooner than this moment, shortly after the panic of having nearly lost him, Seon-ho would have been overwhelmed. He might have ran. But now? Now he stayed.

And he would have remained just like that too, holding Hwi’s face with all the gentleness of a dream, were the world not impatiently pressing in. This time though, the insistence of moving forward, of moving on, wasn’t something Seon-ho resisted.

He let his hand drop, accepting Hwi’s help to stand.

“Nippon huh?” he asked with a smirk. Sung-rok settled in next to him, brows rising at the sudden mention of a place so far away. Chi-do did not look as surprised.

“Maybe,” Hwi returned the smile, “But first, north.”