hyunskizz

[hyunskizz]

HYUNJIN for KILIAN PARIS

[hyunskizz]

[hyunskizz]

#I'm actually loosing my mind although im extremely quiet rn

[hyunskizz]

ice on whiskey ─── hwang hyunjin.

✰ pairing : assassin/hitman!hyunjin x fem!reader (she/her pronouns).

✰ genre : mafia au, nsfw+18, strangers to lovers, kinda slow burn

✰ warnings : lots of profanity, guns, violence, character deaths, kidnapping, rampage, reader almost drowned, felix got injured, mentions of drugs and other weapons, black market, crimes such as arson, murder and illegal businesses, blood, kissing, unprotected sex, oral sex (f.receiving), cunnilingus, breast play, hyunjin stroking himself (slightly mentioned)... MNDI semi-proofread. lmk if i missed one :'>

✰ word count : 25k (the longest so far)

✰ notes : wooyoung from ateez made a cameo in here lol and i’m not expecting this to get a lot of interactions but if you do read this, DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS after reading so i’ll know what you think of this long-ass fic. please separate fiction from reality. inspired by — freeze and give me your tmi by skz, too sweet by hozier, a few scenes from the k-drama queen of tears, vincenzo and 365 days trilogy

✰ tags : @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly , @starseungs , @sleepyleejii

masterlist | taglist

members’ characters and roles.

Hwang Hyunjin. 

His name echoes as the sounds of crackling flame and a huge—thick black smoke escalate to the sky. He stood on the rooftop across from the building that was burning down as the fire trucks and cops aligned on the road beneath. 

With a zippo in his hand—he closed and opened the lid, making a small flame that caused chaos. A click sound is heard after he closes the lid, shoving it inside his black coat’s pocket. A smirk is plastered on his face upon hearing his name being cursed by the family of a notoriously corrupt politician. He doesn’t need to take a glance at who it was—he already recognizes those names being listed on his murder list. Too bad, the body burned along with the building. 

“Good job, Hyunjin,” He heard his boss say on his earpiece while removing the black gloves as he exited the building. 

It is his job to murder whoever it is when his family gets provoked. A role that he is trained to do so. 

“Get back home, we have another target,” Hyunjin stopped his car across the street as he took a few looks from the burning building. Some employees were weeping, firefighters were trying to calm the fire, the medical team was on search and the officers were investigating. 

His name will never be revealed in the media. Who knows? He’s part of the Mafia. 

“Fuckers,” He said under his breath driving away from the crime scene. 

Arson may be one of his crimes, yet that’s not the only way to do his job. The next target is set on another date. 

It was another usual night at the hotel when the sound of a gunshot was heard across the room as a body fell on the floor with a loud thud. Hyunjin stood there, a gun in his hand—eyes filled with no remorse and other emotion. He stared at the body while hiding his weapon in his belt underneath his black coat then a sigh of relaxation escaped his lips as his footsteps echoed on the marble floor—taking his way out leaving the man he just killed covered with blood. 

He always didn’t understand why Chan sent him alone to negotiate when Seungmin should be the one doing this instead. But the latter is too busy to read and win cases. Hyunjin could’ve taken a signal from Seungmin after failing to negotiate with the bastard. 

“Dispose of him.” He said to the two bodyguards waiting for him outside. 

He continued to walk by the hall as he headed towards the elevator—pressing the ground floor’s button. The door closed slowly as he leaned back on the handle while fixing his suit through the reflection. It was a waste to wear such expensive clothing only to be assigned to kill someone. He would have screamed and cried if there was blood that managed to paint his suit, even though it wouldn’t be visible since he’s wearing all black from top to toe. Still, he treasures this kind of clothing as it is the representation of his identification. 

He couldn’t say no to the boss. 

Frustrated as he was, it was getting late. The elevator reached the ground floor and his phone kept ringing inside his chest pocket in his blazer. Another urgent call. He’s been getting one ever since his morning started, probably another errand to run for Chan. His footsteps echoed once again on the marble floor through the main hall of the hotel as he made his way toward the entrance where his car was waiting.  It looked like nothing happened when he had the guts to act normal and conservative with his job but he got used to it.

A man bowed at him while giving him the keys as he took his phone out—answering that damn call. 

“Did you kill him?” A voice from the other line asked. 

“Yes,” Hyunjin answered as he opened the car’s door and sat comfortably. “I’m heading back now,” 

“Okay, be quick, we have another one on the loose,” said the man on the phone. Hyunjin didn’t respond and went to drive away. 

It is supposed to be a day off which he wanted to spend in his guesthouse near the beach on that one island. But damn Bang Chan and his list of names for murders, Hyunjin couldn’t even take the private jet to their island because for sure, he has a feeling that Chan has another mission for him or something urgent to make a meeting out of it. 

He pushed the accelerator to full speed as he drove on the highway making it like his racing track. His engine roared, earning everyone’s attention. Some cursed the shit out of him, some were amazed by his violation of traffic laws, Hyunjin felt defeated—he didn’t even get to take a sip of whiskey while trying to negotiate with that man at the hotel. He was irritated, to begin with. Imagine your day off became a business day just because someone wants to get murdered. 

It’s valid.  

His hands tightened their grip on the wheel, maintaining the speed of his Mercedes Benz as it traveled through the road by the cliff where you could see the ocean and the city lights. The thought of taking some days off just to walk by the shore would be a luxury in his crucial job. He doesn’t even remember when was the last time he had a vacation and how exactly he landed on this kind of work when he was supposed to be a professional shooter as a sport. Hiring him was probably Chan’s best decision. 

“You’re late,” He said. 

“He had a lot to talk about,” Hyunjin reasoned, taking a seat beside Felix on the couch. All eight members of the family gathered in the main living room with Chan in the middle—slamming folders on the coffee table followed by Hyunjin’s gaze. “What are these?” 

“Our next person,” Minho said, making Hyunjin sigh in response. 

“Another murder for me?” He asked cocking his head.  

“No,” Seungmin answered. “She’s a different case,” 

“She?” 

“Yes,” Felix interrupted as he took the main folder, making Hyunjin read the details. It was a profile. “Y/N Jung. She works as a publisher at Park’s Corporation. Her parents died when she was 5 and raised in an orphanage until the age of 18. Top of her class in high school and graduated Summa Cum Laude at ***** University. Mr. Park hired her a year ago and got promoted 6 months after,” 

“Impressive but what’s with this person?” Hyunjin asked who seemed not interested if it was not someone for him to shoot. 

“We found out that she’s the only daughter of the Godfather of the Jungs who died decades ago, they’re our family’s rival. She probably has no idea since she’s living a normal life but her relatives are after her since she’s the only heir. They wanted to kill her,” Seungmin said—now he is intrigued. 

“What if the Jungs will find out that she’s with us?” 

“It will provoke them of course. They still have a debt to pay after all,” Chan said, taking a sip of his whiskey. “They can’t have her that easily,” 

“So,” Hyunjin paused, pointing at himself. “I’m going to kidnap her?” He was unsure about his assignment but it will probably go that way. “And where do we keep her? Here?” 

“Your guesthouse,” Chan chuckled. “Take this mission as your days off from work, I will make sure no one finds you,” 

“Hyung, give me a break. I’m supposed to leave for Colmar this weekend,” Hyunjin argued. 

“You can’t,” Chan said firmly. “You know how your job is unpredictable so either you do this or leave?” 

“Oh, I’m supposed to be your assassin now, a babysitter?” Hyunjin scoffed. But he knows he doesn’t have a choice. Again. 

Hyunjin finds himself inside his room after the meeting in Chan’s heavenly huge mansion at the top of a mountain that was rendered for residency. He thought about the case thoroughly this time and this is the very first mission that Chan asked him not to kill anyone. It is unusual for him of course, as he is not used to the concept he’s getting into. A lost princess that everyone is looking for. She could be Rapunzel in some sort. But anyway, this could help him rest for a while. It would make his status crumble in this family if he declined the offer. 

He ran his fingers through his black long locks as he sat on his bed, taking off his blazer and loosening his tie. The gun was already placed inside the drawer and took a glass of whiskey sitting on his side table. He stared at nowhere and drowned in his deep thoughts while his back rested comfortably on the headboard along with the pillow while reading your profile and other personal documents attached to the folder. 

A lot will be planned for this exhibition. 

“Fuck,” He hissed, slamming the papers on his side table. 

**

Days passed and you arrived at the party’s venue five minutes before it started. Mr. Park already requested your presence the moment you walked in. It is supposed to be a night to enjoy but little didn’t you know that you’re being watched. Being not a fan of this kind of event, you didn’t want to be here in the first place. With tons of people and the intoxicating smell of alcohol and cigarettes, there is a reason why you didn’t party when you were still a student. 

A heavy sigh escaped your lips—you admit that your life sucked by then, an orphan who managed to survive the challenges in life. You raised yourself well with the use of your late parents’ insurance money, which is quite A LOT. Yet you stopped using them when you got a job. Growing up in a tough environment, not that many friends, no social life, and a pile of money made you survive like a castaway on an unknown island. Yet you were thankful for being responsible and a few guidelines from the headmistress of the orphanage who is supposed to be a mother to you but she never did, maybe once she was. 

These thoughts never leave your mind. It was an experience to grow up independent. It hurts you sometimes that you grew up having no parents to call on, no house to go home to during the holidays, just you in that lonely—godforsaken apartment. You got used to it anyway. 

And who are you to judge the life that the heavens gave you?

You sat by the counter after a long conversation with Mr. Park regarding his business. It was tiring to speak corporate on your day off. You should be at home watching your favorite local drama and crying with a bucket of popcorn. But hell, one of the most important people in the company should be here. Another sigh was heard from you as the bartender placed a glass of champagne on the counter, indicating it was your drink. 

“Thanks,” You smiled. 

The loud music, the blinding lights, the smoke, and the smell of cigarettes being mixed with the air-conditioner are choking you. It was bad—you could’ve coughed so loud until your throat dried. Champagne won’t be a lot of help either. 

Hyunjin was there. 

White v-neck long-sleeved polo, black blazer, black slacks, and black shoes. A handsome tall man, who smells expensive, who looks expensive, and a bit dramatic at times but the people who see him can’t deny he is so damn attractive with that suit with a few strands of wet hair styled on his face for elegance. 

He walked slowly after seeing you settled by the counter wearing that black long dress with see-through sleeves. You were beautiful. 

Felix followed him as Han and Changbin were on the lookout—watching some members of the Jungs trying to locate you in the venue. Hyunjin ordered a drink as he sat on the empty high chair beside you which you had to raise your glass as a form of greeting him. He just gave you a small smile and moved his chair to watch the crowd dancing instead of the bunch of drinks on display. 

It’s safe to say that he caught your attention. Who wouldn’t when he’s tall, short wolf cut, a black suit with a white top within, a glass of whiskey in one hand—a face of a model, siren eyes, a great physique… he’s totally your type. It would give you a reason to stay in the party for a while. You hang your head low on the counter as Hyunjin notices you getting consumed by the alcohol while sipping on his whiskey. 

“You shouldn’t drink that much,” You heard him say. Damn, he’s concerned, that thought made you blush. 

“I know,” You paused between the hic. “It’s just, it’s my first time having to enjoy a drink outside,” You smiled. “I’m not a party girl, you see. I’m a home buddy,” But Hyunjin just smirked. 

You didn’t leave the counter an hour later and kept on drinking the same drink. Mind you there is only 12% of alcohol in a bottle of champagne but your tolerance doesn’t give a fuck. You don’t usually get drunk easily but this time is different. That’s what they say, drink your problems away. It is not in your life mottos. A drink wouldn’t make you decide to die. 

The person beside you, will. Not the one you greeted with the glass. He’s too handsome. 

“Incoming to Ms. Jung’s left side, Hyunjin,” Said Han from the earpiece. 

Hyunjin cleared his throat as he moved—facing the bar while turning his glass from side to side. 

Being independent meant you could sense danger in one glance but you were too dizzy to identify the man beside you. Unbeknownst to your actions, your hand landed on the man who smiled at you earlier and looked at him. He was confused as to why but it is a plus that you trust him, which you shouldn’t. Maybe because he’s not provoking you or anything. You tried so hard to stay quiet and not embarrass yourself in front of your party crush. 

Hyunjin was alerted as he craned his neck a bit to observe. 

“Such a beautiful face,” You heard the other man from your left while tightening the grip of your hand on Hyunjin’s. The unknown man was about to caress your cheek when Hyunjin suddenly let go of the grip—spinning your chair to face him, having his hand on your waist, pulling you closer to him as he planted a kiss on your lips. It was so sudden and unexpected yet it was good. Felix was surprised as he witnessed it behind Hyunjin. 

“Dude, what the fuck?” He exclaimed. 

The kiss lasted longer. His delicate plump lips were soft as it tasted like he just had a glass of whiskey now being mixed with champagne you just had. His kiss was so gentle to the point that it was so sweetーyour knees felt weak and blood rushed through your veins. Unbeknownst to the events, he pulled his gun out from his belt, aiming at the man’s forehead. His eyes were looking at him as he was kissing you. 

The man raised his hands in surrender and yet he had this dirty smirk plastered on his face. Han and Changbin were already standing on both sides, hooking their arms around the person of interest. You were so captivated by his kiss that it felt like having a live makeout session in front of the barista and Felix but Hyunjin had to stop before it got deep.

“Fuck,” The man grunts. 

“Don’t turn around,” Hyunjin whispered to your ear as you could feel your heart going insane and your mind blank. Did he just kiss you? Yes, what the fuck. His left arm was still around your waistーpulling you closer as if he was hugging you. But why is it that he won’t allow you to turn around when you’re a blushing mess and the urge to scream in happiness is strong? 

“You’re not going to kill him, are you?” The man with blonde hair spoke behind him. What?

“Are you working for the Jungs?” Hyunjin asked. You didn’t understand what these are all about and tried to get away but Hyunjin’s too strong to let you go. “Babe, don’t move,” He whispered again. I am going to ascend to heaven if he’s going to be like that for a while. 

“You could say that,” The man behind you answered. 

“You better pay your debt to the Wolves,” Hyunjin answered. “I’ll make sure you will never get your hands on Y/n,” 

How the fuck did he know my name?

“You will never know what will happen next if you kill me, Hyunjin,” The man stated. “They will find the heiress no matter what,” And with that, Hyunjin pulled the trigger, and a loud gunshot was heard through the whole room. The body collapsed as everyone panicked while making their way out of the venue leaving you, Hyunjin, his brothers, and a group of men who were probably the dead man’s accomplices. You were also surprised, flinching at your spotーconfused about what was happening. 

“Get her out of here,” Said Han. “Now.” He added before he ran upstairs to catch the assigned person to take you to the Jungs along with Changbin. Hyunjin nudged Felix before turning back to you. 

“What’s happening?” You spoke in panic but at the same time, you couldn’t move. 

“Look, Miss, we have to go.” He said. Little didn’t you know that the crush you’re supposed to have made your night turn unexpectedly?

“What? You’re a stranger, I can’t trust you!” You argued but Hyunjin didn’t have enough patience to talk back right now and just went to pick you up like a damsel in distress. 

“Let’s go, Felix!” You heard him say as he walked out of the venue. Han and Changbin decided to stay back for a while unless they captured the spies who were watching you the whole time when you were with Mr. Park and Hyunjin. Everyone was panicking and managed to get out, even your boss who was assisted by his guards.

“Hey! Put me down!” You exclaimed trying to get down but Hyunjin didn’t even bother to listen and you were way too drunk to stand on your own. “We kissed but I don’t even know your name!” 

“It’s fucking Hwang Hyunjin,” He said, making you sit on the passenger’s seat as Felix went to his car parked beside Hyunjin’s. 

“Okay, Mr. Fucking Hwang Hyunjin, take me home,” You said as you heard his engine roar. 

“I don’t even know where you live but you’re coming home with me,” He answered as he stepped on the gas making the car accelerate with Felix, tailing him. 

“Is this kidnapping? I will sue you!” You exclaimed but Hyunjin just tried to put up with your shit. “God, I’m fucking stupid! First, I got drunk from that stupid champagne! Second, I kissed a stranger and got traumatized and third I’m letting this motherfucker take me somewhere,” You cried while holding on to your seatbelt. “I don’t even know who Fucking Hwang Hyunjin is, the fuck?!” 

“Will you shut up?” Hyunjin hissed, making you whimper instead. 

I’m going to die, no, I can’t die yet. I won’t allow them to kill me, I still have strays to feed, I want to get married and have kids, and I still need to meet the love of my life and grow old with them. Fuck, I’m going to die. I am being kidnapped and Mr. Fucking Hwang Hyunjin is absolutely unknown in my entire life. I am so dumb, so stupid letting my first kiss taken— You thought when you heard someone was calling. 

“Hyunjin, we’re being followed,” Felix said through the call as soon as Hyunjin accepted it and took a glance at his side mirror. 

“Fuck,” Hyunjin said in frustration. 

“I’ll stall them, get on the freeway,” Felix said. 

“No, fuck! They know that Y/n’s here,” Hyunjin answered.  

“What are we going to do?” Felix asked, feeling anxious from the other line.

“Go back and get Changbin and Han,” Hyunjin said as you were listening to their conversation. The car ride is making you sicker and wants to puke, but Hyunjin’s car seems so expensive that you’re just trying to hold it in and yet it seems impossible. This is an unexpected turn of a Saturday night. 

“What about you?” 

“I’ll lead them astray, then,” Hyunjin said. 

“Fuck, alone?” Felix reacted.

“Just go, Felix!” Felix sighed heavily as he made a sudden U-turn making the following car halt in response. You stopped crying upon listening to their conversation and when Felix left, you could see how angry Hyunjin was. “You better hold on tight,” You heard him say when you are already holding on for your dear life. Forget about the damn kiss, this man is crazy!

He’s already violating traffic laws now with his friend and fuck, what’s the worse that could happen? Getting arrested or killed after being kidnapped? And the car following us is not even the cops. Forget about the damn kiss, this man is crazy!

“What’s happening?” You asked for the second time, tightening your grip on the seatbelt. 

“You’ll find out later,” He said as he made the car engine roar—speeding through an unknown road. 

You could feel how unusual the speed of his car was, it was faster than a few minutes ago. Vomiting would be the worst that could happen inside right now. Not in this expensive car, not in this expensive black dress that you bought from your favorite brand, not with this hair and makeup you’ve spent hours to make yourself presentable after 5 days of being stressed.

“Can I at least know where you’re taking me?” You asked, trying not to make puking sounds. “I think I’m getting sicker at this speed,” 

“Don’t you dare vomit in my car!” He exclaimed, trying to focus on the road and at the same time, glancing at his side mirror. The car is still there and Felix is nowhere to be found now. Hyunjin kept on taking turns and you’re getting sicker. In a few seconds, you won’t be able to hold it in. 

“Can you slow down a bit?” You begged but there’s no way Hyunjin is doing that. 

“Do you want to live or not?” Hyunjin hissed, hands tightening their grip on the wheel even more. 

“I want to if you won’t kill us,” You said, almost crying again. 

“I’m a skilled driver,” He argued. 

“I’m not doubting you,” You answered, shaking in fear and sickness. “But I would like to apologize in advance,” 

“What? Fuck—no!” Hyunjin exclaimed as he was too late. You already vomited on his mat— coughing after feeling like you were being choked. “Motherfucker! I told you not to let it out!” 

“But I suddenly feel better! Don’t worry, I’ll wash your car,” You said as you leaned back on the passenger’s seat leaving Hyunjin more frustrated. 

“Fuck,” He sighed as he continued driving at the same speed when suddenly a truck was heading through the go signal from the right side at full speed as well. It gave Hyunjin an idea that he made the clutch go forward as the engine roared even more, wanting to go through the stop signal. 

“Wait!” You exclaimed, followed by intense screaming while covering your face with your hands as Hyunjin stayed quiet, brows knitted together, hands tightened their grip on the wheel even more—speeding through the highway and the car that was following you, crashed on the truck making a loud impact as the cars lined up got delayed to go through the traffic. Your heart was beating faster—panting, as you sweat from all the vomiting and a reckless driver beside you. Thanks to them, you are probably getting sober from the series of events. “What the fuck was that?” 

“I told you I’m a skilled driver. But you have to clean my car tomorrow morning,” He said, sighing in relief as he glanced at his rearview mirror, watching the car burn as it stood still, glass shattered and crushed. 

“So I’m not going home, then?” You asked, watching him with those terrified eyes. 

“Do you think after what just happened I’ll let you go home? You vomited in my car, my brothers are out there trying to capture those who wanted to kill you, and I just saved your life from those bastards and that fucker at the party,” Hyunjin said, getting back on the car’s usual speed while loosening his tight grip. 

“Why do they want to kill me? And how did you know me?” You asked, being confused, to begin with in addition to fear and doubt.  

“Long story short, I was tasked to take you in because of your family affairs.” He answered. 

“Family affairs? I’m an orphan! Nobody came for me when I was at the orphanage!” Your exclaimed, brows knitted together.

“Y/n Jung, a publisher at Park’s Corporation, the daughter of Mr. F/n Jung and Ms. M/n Kim, the Godfather. Orphaned at the age of 5, was sent to ***** University and graduated Summa Cum Laude. You have lived alone since you were 18,” He said, making your eyes widen in shock. 

“Stalker much! How did you know?” You shouted, attempting to kick him. “And Godfather? What the fuck is that?”

“You are the only heir of the highest mafia leader who died years ago. Your relatives are coming to kill you so they can get your parents’ properties in all of Korea. That explains why they left you a great sum of money,” Hyunjin explained, which became too much for your sober brain to catch up and take in. 

“So you’re saying that I’m part of this gangster shit?” You laughed. “Dude, I barely even know my parents and my family background, and then someone like you just appeared out of nowhere, explaining this crazy stuff,” You answered, resting on the passenger’s seat like a stubborn little child. “I want to go home,” 

“You owe me and my car. My boss will kill me if I let you go,” Hyunjin argued but only sighed in response, just letting an unusual stranger earn your slight bit of trust. 

He knows you have so many questions at the moment and he’s not sure he can answer everything. That is why he is taking you to Chan’s enormous mansion at the mountaintop. The streetlights became rare the moment you entered the road by the cliff, nervous about what was going to happen shortly. It was dark—you didn’t even know what to feel. Being terrified is an understatement, you have no idea what you are going into. 

Hyunjin became quiet as soon as you stopped talking yet the disgusting smell aroused his irritation. He tried not to get upset with it since you were already on the premises. 

“Clean yourself before we see Chan,” You heard him say as you gave him a nod. Hyunjin parked his car and walked around it to open the door for you. 

“Thanks,” You said as you followed him inside. 

The stories you’ve read about these kinds of families weren’t exaggerating when writers say that Mafias are filthy rich with huge mansions, expensive cars and furniture, business booming here and there, and money coming and going. Being a bookworm and a movie lover helped. Your mouth gaped at the sight of the interior. It’s probably more expensive than you. But learning the fact that you’re an heiress made a small stretch on your net worth. Of course, if it’s not a prank or whatever. 

Your eyes wandered around the main living room through the hall and the stairs as Hyunjin led you inside his room. Even his room is bigger than your apartment. 

“Your clothes are placed on my bed, the bathroom’s on your left. I’ll be outside,” He said as you gave him a nod but before you could take a step away from him, you felt a hand wrapped around your wrist—pulling you closer. “Don’t even bother trying to escape,” 

“Even if I did, you’ll capture me eventually,” You said, rolling your eyes—unhanding yourself away by harshly removing your wrist from his large hand. 

“If you don’t want to be killed of course,” He smirked as he went out of the room. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as your eyes landed on the pajamas he prepared for you. 

“Is she here?” Seungmin asked the moment he saw Hyunjin standing outside his room. 

“Inside,” Hyunjin answered, motioning his head to the door. 

“Good,” Seungmin sighed in relief. “Felix said they’re on their way. They got the accomplices. Chan said they will be taken to the island tonight and you killed someone out there,” 

“I didn’t,” Hyunjin breathed. “The rest of them were following us, I have to make sure Y/n’s safe,” 

“I know,” Seungmin said. “You did well,” 

Thankfully, Hyunjin’s door wasn’t soundproof. You heard their conversation when you were about to knock. The sage green pajamas were comfy as they were made of silk, your hair was wet after taking a shower and the other products you used were immaculate. They must’ve prepared for your arrival that he already has those products aligned in his bathroom. 

You leaned closer to the door and knocked a few times just to make Hyunjin unlock it, making Seungmin intrigued to see you too. 

It took a while as you cleaned everything, making yourself sober up. This was a lesson not to drink a lot—you don’t even like drinking. You need to be presentable at least, but the aftertaste of champagne didn’t feel good staying inside your mouth. Yet this wasn’t that important to you right now as you have questions to ask and answers to collect.

“Hi,” Seungmin beamed. “I’m Seungmin, the family lawyer, nice to meet you Y/n,” He added, reaching out his hand for a handshake. You hesitated at first, but it seems like he’s a bit friendly. 

“Hi,” You said, giving him a quick smile and shaking his hand. He looks too cute to be part of this gangster family but at the same time, extremely attractive. 

“Let’s go see Chan now,” Hyunjin said as he walked away first with Seungmin gesturing his hand to follow the former as he stayed behind you. 

You have no idea who Chan is, and you get even more nervous that you are a few steps into meeting him. The information about your parents became unexpected because no one knew and no one even came to the orphanage to tell you anything. Not even your relatives who unfortunately don’t care about you and now want you dead. The idea led you to come with them to earn information and flee when you get the chance. Thoughts of escaping would be impossible at this point since you are being surrounded and watched. There are a lot of surveillance cameras from the gate to the mansion. It’s hard to find a blind spot. 

Hyunjin and Seungmin’s footsteps echoed through the hall while yours remained quiet because of the fluffy Cinnamon Roll slippers Hyunjin gave. It was almost cute but you remembered he kissed you without permission, hypothetically let the driver of that car who followed you, get into a terrible accident and shoot a man in the same night. May they rest in peace, in hell, if they deserve it. 

Your lips formed into a thin line as you walked downstairs, earning the attention of six other men—probably living in this house—especially that big, scary-looking man, sitting in the middle. You recognized Felix, and the two who were standing behind the couch he was sitting at were probably Han and Changbin. They’ve got cuts and bruises from all the trouble earlier. Damn. And the rest, you don’t know. 

Everyone stood up and faced you the moment you got down, Seungmin gestured to you to sit down on a single couch to begin the meeting but you couldn’t even move. You were intimidated and yet they bowed to show respect. 

What the fuck is happening? 

“Please don’t be scared, take a seat,” The man in the middle spoke. You were hesitating at first but eventually gave in. It’s too dangerous to provoke someone this scary. “I know you probably have a lot of questions about all of this, but before anything else, I would like to introduce this family. I’m Bang Chan, the boss. You just met Seungmin, our lawyer, Felix is our Intel, Han and Changbin are our Capos,” Chan said, then he immediately gestured to the next person. “Jeongin, my apprentice, Minho the consigliere and Hyunjin, our assassin,” 

“A-assassin?” You spoke. 

You were stunned by how everyone has a role in this family and yet remained confused. Eight men with acceptable roles in the family and the one who took you away is apparently an assassin. He could’ve killed you the first time. You were deceived by that handsome face of his but who knows what job he has? A fucking assassin. It keeps repeating in your head. 

“Uhm, not so nice to meet you,” You said, you mean it anyway. “I think I don’t need to say something about myself,” You added, taking a deep breath to avoid being nervous and scared. Everything feels off in the first place too. 

“You don’t need to. We know who you are,” Chan said as you sighed heavily, biting your lower lip. 

“Okay, why am I here?” You asked. “Hyunjin mentioned something about my late parents. Did you do a background check on me?” 

“Yes, it is part of our job,” Chan answered, gesturing to Seungmin to hand you a file. “He may have mentioned you being the sole heir of the Godfather, Mr. F/n Jung,” 

“That’s fucking absurd,” You retorted. 

“It’s the truth,” Chan said firmly. “Your relatives have been tracking you down for years, that explains what happened and why you’re brought here.  All information about you and your late parents is in there,” He added as Seungmin offered you a thick folder. Licking your lips—your hands reached for the folder and flipped a few pages. 

The first one you saw was your profile, next to that were papers from the orphanage—articles about the car crash and the insurance money, your university application, land and property ownerships being signed by your parents, contracts, and other confidential documents. It took you a while to skim and scan everything. It felt surreal as if your life was written in a book—the missing heiress of a freaking wealthy family of gangsters. And now, some unknown relatives are coming after you. 

“I really don’t know anything, and so what if they want to own my parents’ property, I don’t care at all,” You said, firmly. 

“That is not what we do, Y/n,” Chan retorted. “Loyalty is important to our family and you have a rank in the Jungs so either they will let you live to rule for them or kill you to take everything you’re supposed to own. Your parents built that empire so you could have a normal and comfortable life but they ended up being killed in the crash many years ago. It’s a miracle that you’re even alive,” 

Then it made you remember—the crash. Suddenly, a child’s voice echoed through your memory as the sounds of ambulances were all over the place. The front side of the car was crushed as you sat there crying with your head bleeding from the impact. You were taken to the hospital and later found out that your parents died before they could get them out of the car. A social worker and a lawyer came by to assess your papers and live in an orphanage. It was discussed that you can get the insurance money after you turn 18. It was enough to sustain you and yet, everything still felt bitter. Your life was never the same after that. Maybe your life got a little bit better after you moved out and lived on your own. Yet it became lonely and sad. Having a job doesn’t fix a broken heart either. Everything messes with your head. 

No one from your family visited you because of the hatred. The headmistress didn’t even help you that much and the other kids were getting foster parents except you. It was tragic. You didn’t know what was wrong and longed to have a family too. Maybe Chan is right about one thing, you’re lucky to be alive but instead of living happily out of it—the sunshine turned into rain and the light switched off to dark. It was sad knowing no one came to your graduation or any parent-teacher meetings, no one would sign school documents other than your landlord. It was a fucked up life for you to thrive on. 

Tears suddenly streamed down your cheeks while looking at Chan. Felix caught it immediately and passed the box of tissues. You were surprised by it that you didn’t hesitate to respond to his actions. Maybe these people are not bad after all or they’re just being polite. You wiped your tears after taking a few sheets and massaging your temples. Being sober doesn’t help to indulge such information but you are getting there. You don’t need to drink again in the future. 

“You think it’s a good miracle, huh? Do you think it’s good to be alive? After everything I’ve been through?!” You exclaimed standing up from your seat but they didn’t flinch a bit, except Felix. 

“This is not the place for you to be emotional,” That was a damn red flag to invalidate you. 

“Y/n, calm down, take a seat,” Felix said in his most gentle voice, handing you a glass of water. “Don’t worry, it’s pure, not poisoned,” He smiled like an angel in disguise. You sit down as you take the glass and drink it, still giving that glare to Chan who has no remorse plastered on his face. 

“You and Hyunjin will go to his guest house first thing in the morning. No one will be able to find you there,” Chan said. 

“What?” You asked, shocked by what Chan just answered. 

“We have to stay here because of the Jungs, but we’ll accompany you to the island tomorrow. Hyunjin needs his day off too,” Seungmin said.  

“Yeah, he will take care of you, but don’t worry, we will make sure no one finds you so call us when you need us,” Felix interrupted. 

“Why are you doing this?” You asked. 

“They owe us big time, your family is the reason why our parents died. All of us,” Chan answered, which made you caught off guard. So you’re not alone after all. “My parents were second to yours, Ms. Jung. They’re the co-founder of this empire but after being betrayed and murdered along with the entire family, the kids were forced to grow up in a secluded mansion, trained and studied—chosen to continue their legacy.” He added as he stood up from his seat and walked slowly around you. 

“It was a hard life,” Felix butted in. 

“Hyunjin grew up to be a shooter so I hired him as my assassin. Seungmin studied law, and he became the family’s lawyer. Minho is my advisor, Han and Changbin were trained to fight, Felix became our intelligence because of his skills and Jeongin is still learning from me. I was forced to lead an empire, Y/n, the Jungs are the rats. You’re lucky you didn’t grow up in this environment or you are already long gone,” He said as you stayed quiet. “Your family has a debt to pay and a relative to kill. It’s either you want to go out there and be killed or stay here until we settle everything with them. Your choice,” 

“I don’t have a family,” You answered as you balled your fists in anger. 

“We know,” 

“How did you find me?” You asked. 

“Felix,” Chan answered. “We have connections so when we knew you were alive, I sent Felix to spy on you,” 

“Stalking is my job but legally,” Felix said with a sheepish smile plastered on his face making you sigh in response. 

“I guess I have nothing to tell you about myself,” You said. “But if you’re going to keep me locked up, what about my job? My apartment? My laptop? The stray cats and dogs I’m feeding?” 

“The strays were already taken to a shelter. Your apartment won’t be touched but we had to get a few things for you to use and of course, your laptop,” Seungmin answered. “We have someone to replace you for the meantime in your job. But don’t worry, Mr. Park works for Chan Hyung yet he cannot let you work for your privacy,” 

“Unbelievable,” You sighed. “You mentioned that I’m supposed to inherit everything they own as what these documents have stated and yet no one told me. I don’t know anything about bullshit and my so-called relatives are after me to kill me so they can name these properties and businesses under themselves. Why do they need to dispose of me when I don’t know anything?” You asked. 

“The last page is the will of your parents,” Seungmin answered. “It got notarized by my dad. Unfortunately, he passed not long ago after your parents did. The Jungs have copies of the will so to be able to take the properties, they will kill you first since you’re the first in line, second is your uncle, their temporary boss. As long as you’re alive, they won’t be able to touch it,” 

“What?” You reacted. This is way too much information to take. Your brain is foggy from all of that drink and you don’t know if taking a shower would make you feel a bit sane. 

“These documents belong to you now,” Seungmin said. “So please understand that we can’t let you go out there,” 

“Why are you helping me?” You asked—head hang low. 

“We know it’s shocking to hear all of this in one night, but you are a crucial target,” Minho said. “We used to live in harmony once,” You nodded in response. 

“So your parents used to work for them?” You asked, looking at them. 

“To the Godfather,” Minho nodded. 

“Fuck,” You hissed washing your face with your hands with the folder laying on your lap. 

“It’s already getting late, we will continue this conversation tomorrow,” Chan said out of nowhere, dismissing everyone as they left for their rooms while you remained in the living room with Hyunjin taking a seat on your right—sipping on his glass of whiskey. 

“You’re not sleeping yet?” He asked. 

“How could I?” You asked back. “I’m not sure if this is a good idea,” 

“I didn’t say yes to this plan either. But it’s my job and the moment I took you out of that party, you became my responsibility. Call me your babysitter,” He smirked while drinking. 

“Shut up,” You said, rolling your eyes. 

“Go sleep in my room, you had a long night,” He said, standing up from the couch as he shoved his hands inside his slacks’ pockets. 

“What about you?” You asked. 

“I’ll sleep with Seungmin,” He said casually. “Let’s go,” 

You couldn’t sleep a wink that night even though you had to leave first thing in the morning. It felt weird sleeping in a house full of men and laying on a king-sized bed owned by someone you just met. You admit he is handsome and all got mad driving skills and loves whiskey, which makes your heart leap. Not to mention the kiss. What a bastard. He’s not as what you thought he would be, although you are so guilty of vomiting in his car he has the very right to be upset. But the thing is, you’re being held hostage. You also have the very right to be mad. Yet at the same time, their reasons are valid to keep you here. It explains why Han and Changbin got beaten up when Felix arrived way back at the party. 

The bed is comfy after all and you have a lot of information to process at once. It’s unbelievable to have this kind of life being kept a secret from you for years. Damn family affairs. 

**

It was already morning when you were welcomed by a loud knock outside Hyunjin’s room. It made you groan in frustration as that was the reason why you woke up. You had to make your way towards the door and open it while half-asleep. Hyunjin’s face was the one that welcomed you outside causing you to be wide awake. You admit you fell in love at first last night but it didn’t last long when you knew he was taking you with him somewhere you didn’t know. And now, you’re here inside their mansion, inside his room and he is standing three feet in front of you between the door of his bedroom. 

“Good morning?” You said. 

“Get dressed and have breakfast downstairs, we’re leaving in 2 hours,” He said, handing you a set of clothes and a pair of shoes to wear before he left. 

“Fuck,” You said under your breath and hurried to do your new routine. You packed your backpack shoving your laptop, the folder, and some of the necessities the guys had prepared for you from last night. Obviously from your apartment, how did they manage to have these?

Hyunjin went downstairs and headed to the dining room where everyone settled in. You were left out for a bit and rushed down almost an hour after Hyunjin came by. Everyone looked at you wearing that white top with a gray cardigan and white slacks. They wouldn’t deny the fact that you’re pretty and it’s their first time having a woman in the house. Chan cleared his throat making Hyunjin snap out of his thoughts after staring at you. His thoughts remained unknown but he was captured by your beauty although you are stupid. Being drunk Y/n, explained it. 

“Take a seat, my dear,” You heard Chan say. Felix saw how amused Hyunjin was as he smirked, teasing the older one the moment you sat down on the empty seat beside him. “Eat,” 

“You sound like an old man, Hyung,” Seungmin butted in making everyone snicker. 

“Shut up Seungmin,” Chan retorted. 

“Thanks,” That’s all you could say in between the conversation. What an awkward situation to be dining with them. 

“Did you sleep well?” Seungmin asked, turning to you who was just sitting on the other side. 

“Not really,” You answered, taking a bite of your sandwich. 

“That’s normal,” He answered. “I hope you’ll get used to us being around, we can’t take being separated unless there’s an important matter,”

“Really?” You asked. 

“Yeah, we grew up together under one roof, we’re not blood-related but we treat each other like brothers, family to specific,” You heard Han say. 

“Good for you guys,” You said. “I was alone,” 

“You could be family—aww!” Felix exclaimed when Hyunjin smacked him. 

“Y/n’s not our family,” Hyunjin said grimly. 

That made you look down and eat in silence while the rest did the same. Chan obviously didn’t care, Minho couldn’t even look at you, Changbin and Jeongin didn’t bother talking to you, Hyunjin seemed cold, and only Seungmin, Felix, and Han were a bit warm. You couldn’t blame them for feeling that way but you’re innocent with all these family dramas going around. You tried to be friendly despite the situation, but they couldn’t trust you and the same goes for how you felt. 

Why on earth did the heavens give you this life? 

You left the mansion an hour after having breakfast as Hyunjin was driving you somewhere. It was a different car from last night. The boys were having a convoy with 4 cars, 2 in each and 3 in the last car. You settled beside Hyunjin a few minutes ago with your things at the back of his new car. He might’ve disposed of the one he used after the little incident happened. 

“Where’s your car?” You asked. 

“I left it,” He said. “The caretaker will clean it for me,”

“I thought I was supposed to clean it?” You asked again. 

“We don’t have time,” He said in his monotonous voice. 

“I’m sorry,” You said. “Can I do something to make it up to you, at least?” 

“Nothing,” He said, making you sigh. 

“Okay, why did you kiss me last night?” You asked. Oh, so you’re finally making a conversation right now? No one spoke about it, not even Felix who looked disgusted when he saw it. Maybe because they were too occupied last night—it slipped away from their minds. Hyunjin also got upset about how things turned out as if he didn’t call you some pet name. 

“Do you want to see that man being shot in front of you?” He asked. Well, he has a point. “And don’t act like you didn’t like it, you kissed me back,” 

“Because I thought I was finally getting a life,” You argued. 

“I’m not sorry about it,” He smirked. Motherfucker. 

Your eyes met the scenery outside as you were drowning in your sea of thoughts. The so-called abduction, the intoxicating kiss, relocating you to an island? What kind of fate is this?  But He’s right, you liked that kiss. It made your heart go insane, he kissed you like a lover who finally found the love of his life when it was supposed to be nothing but a kiss between fucking strangers and it’s making you crazy. A coincidence even. At first, it’s just crushing on a stranger who turns out to be an assassin. Stupid Y/n. 

Hyunjin continued to drive but took a few glances at your gloomy face, being reflected by the car’s window. 

“My guesthouse is on an island that Chan owns,” He said, earning back your attention. “One can get in or out by plane or yacht, we need to travel there by air,” 

“Chan must be rich huh,” 

“He’s the pillar of this empire after everyone got murdered. All the properties are named after him,” 

“Ah,” You nodded. 

“The island is secluded so no one except us can enter. The roads are limited so it’s hard to do car racing,” He added as you continued to nod. 

“You guys decide what my fate will be,” You said. “I have no family to worry about me so I can be dragged around, besides, you got my replacement at work,” 

“Are you that sad?” Hyunjin asked. 

“Of course, who wouldn’t? Imagine you’re a little kid who grew up alone with no one to look up to. Then one day she lived alone to thrive for herself, got a job years later, and got abducted, witnessed a murder, and a stranger stealing a kiss all in one night for the first time she ever decided to go to a party,” You huffed. “At least you have your brothers. I don’t have one with me,” 

Hyunjin shut his mouth after that. 

“Look, this isn’t my plan on spending my days off. I’m supposed to be in Colmar,” he said. 

“Well, I’m sorry to ruin your vacation. As if I expected to be with you in the first place when I should be sleeping in my apartment the whole day because I have work tomorrow,” You argued. 

Hyunjin gave up. 

After a while, everyone parked their cars by the airport as you followed Hyunjin to the private plane that was prepared for the departure. Your hair danced with the wind along with the excess of your clothes. The others followed and you’re being stuck with them again. It was awkward that you decided to sit at the back as they continued their conversation. Felix saw you alone while Hyunjin slept on the other row. A smile formed on his face and decided to take the seat beside you, hoping he’d feel welcomed. 

You were just waiting to depart as your eyes fixated through the window and didn’t even notice that Felix was already there. He didn’t bother to take your attention in the meantime and just sat quietly—taking a magazine and started to read while you looked outside, not until the flight attendant announced the take-off. 

“Hi,” You greeted. 

“Hi! I hope you don’t mind me sitting here,” He said. 

“Not at all,” You smiled. “You’re probably the only one who wants to be my friend,” 

“Force of habit, since I tend to gather information about you,” He answered while fidgeting his fingers. “We’re about to take off and it will take an hour to arrive so get some rest—poke me when you need anything!” 

“I will,” You chuckled. He’s cute. Not long after, the private jet took off and you stared again through the window. “How long do we have to stay on the island?” You asked, not taking your eyes away from the scenery outside.

“It would depend on how long it would take for the Jungs to stop looking for you,” He answered. “All of us won’t be consistent on staying there, it’s just that Hyunjin is the best one who can protect you since he grew up being a shooter. It’s easy for him to kill someone. I mean, we all do, but he’s the best one,” He added as you finally looked at him. 

“That’s cool. I thought he’s just another reckless driver racing on the road,” You answered which made Felix chuckle. 

“I mean he’s a skilled driver,” Felix said, making a pause between your conversation. “The thing is, our job starting from now on is to go in and out of the island, except for Hyunjin, of course. He’ll stay with you. It’s his guesthouse anyway, and the rest of us will take off the Jungs,” He explained. 

“Isn’t it dangerous though? You’re risking your life for a mere stranger like me,” You said. 

“Like what Chan Hyung said, they owe us and we’re not doing this solely because of you,” Felix answered. “And once they find out that you’re with us, which is what they already know because of last night—I’m afraid that you’re not the only one on the murder list,” 

“That means…” 

“Me, Hyunjin, Seungmin, Han, Changbin hyung, Jeongin, Minho hyung and most especially, Chan hyung,” Felix said. “If he dies, what will happen to us? To you? And with everything that our parents have left us,” That statement made Felix look gloomy as if the sunshine hid behind the clouds to provide rain and you’re standing somewhere without a roof—letting the rainwater shower you. 

“God, I’m so sorry,” You sighed trying to hold back your tears as you leaned on your seat. It makes you feel a sense of guilt even though everything is still new. 

“It’s not your fault. What are you apologizing for?” Hyunjin said still not moving from his position—arms crossed on his chest, legs gapped—his head rested on his neck pillow with sunglasses on his eyes. 

“Don’t mind him,” Felix excused. “He even kissed you without permission so I’m sorry about that,” He added when you just gave him a sorry smile.

“I’m not sorry about that too!” Hyunjin butted in making Felix sigh before turning in his direction.

“You’re being a jerk,” Felix scolded him as Hyunjin rolled his eyes inside those expensive glasses.

It was a new sight the moment you stepped out of the private area and headed toward the mini-airport, specifically built for this island. The family is filthy rich that you cannot even comprehend how it works. From afar, they look like a normal bunch of businessmen working together to provide a better economy for people to work but once you enter the circle and observe them, they only serve one master—the boss who is the brain of everything. They fight for the good although they use violence and crimes just to have a peaceful atmosphere. Being involved with them came to be unexpected. From a normal, innocent human being to a wanted daughter of a late criminal lord. 

It is the season of summer and everything happens in the blink of an eye. The night changed too fast—not even 24 hours. That’s what everyone says, you don’t know what is going to happen in the future. All eyes darted on you and they’re all armed. Apart from the brothers, there were also guards walking along as you headed to cars prepared to head to Hyunjin’s guesthouse. It was a big island when you got an aerial view as it was separated from the outside world. You were assisted when you sat beside Hyunjin as he drove away. The island is obviously surrounded by water which would be harder to escape. They don’t need surveillance cameras anymore when you’re on the loose just to find you. No boats, and planes to be used—unless it’s urgent. 

Being surrounded by water is a genius idea since it is already summer. You have the freedom to explore around and maybe read by the shore if the guesthouse wouldn’t be too far from the sea. Another convoy was set to travel heading on the limited road Hyunjin was talking about. You didn’t even expect that the guesthouse would be enormous just like Chan’s mansion on the mountaintop. 

It was located a few meters from the shore—surrounded by trees and a garden with a small pavilion for afternoon tea, a swimming pool, and of course, high walls and gates. 

“This is your guesthouse?” You asked. “It seems like a real house,” 

“Let’s say this is a vacation house where I’m supposed to relax, away from all the chaos,” Hyunjin said. 

“You even had an outdoor shooting range a moment ago,” You added. 

“Chan Hyung had it built 2 years ago,” He said, parking the car as soon as it entered the guesthouse grounds. “Your things will be carried to your room so feel free to look around. Felix will attend to you in a bit,” 

“Okay,” You said, letting yourself out of his car as you watched him going to Chan. They walked inside the house as Felix remained with you. The latter was smiling until his ears made you awe. He’s the only sweet one around. A total ball of sunshine. 

When Chan and the rest of his brothers gathered in the main living room while discussing the terms and conditions with Hyunjin, Felix got busy touring you around like a professional tour guide yet you couldn’t help but notice the gun being displayed on his belt. Everyone has. 

“Why do you always carry that?” You asked as Felix stopped explaining some things when you got distracted. 

“Oh, it’s for emergencies,” He said as you walked around the guesthouse. 

And while you were occupied, Chan received a distress message written on his phone. Han was alerted that accomplices from last night were already lined up in the shooting range after they were brought to the island and needed confrontation. Hyunjin stood up immediately and left the premises as he hurried to the shooting range, not far from the house. Everyone followed him which caught your attention and Felix’s. 

“Emergencies like that, probably,” You heard him say. 

“What’s happening?” You asked when Han came. 

“Felix, Chan wants you there. Take Y/n with you,” He said and ran to catch up with the guys—leaving you confused. You followed Felix out from the gates and headed to where they were.  It didn’t even take 10 minutes of the tour and now you’re standing here with them with those unfamiliar faces kneeling down in front of the brothers. You hold on to Felix while watching them. Those men have bruises, obviously after being beaten up. Their hands were cuffed and blood was dripping from their heads. If this island is only for the brothers, why would they bring them here?

“Baby, come here,” Hyunjin suddenly said, to which everyone was caught off guard. He was gesturing to you as he reached out his hand—fingers motioning you to come closer. 

“Baby? What the fuck?” Seungmin said in disgust. 

Your heart started to beat faster—of course, you remembered Hyunjin became your crush for a few minutes during the party, kissed you, and killed some people. Now you are not surprised if he’s going to have another shooting activity. Everyone was quiet and next to him was Chan with a gun in his hand. The others stood on the side, waiting for something to happen. This family never fails to make surprises within the first 24 hours, especially Hyunjin. 

It is breathtaking to witness eight handsome brothers wearing formal attire—either black or white. Hyunjin was wearing all black, from his long-sleeved polo to his pants and belt, silver rings adorned his fingers, and a black bracelet. His ears were pierced. You didn’t even notice how good they looked on him the first time you laid your eyes on him during the party. The broad daylight caused you a thorough observation. He’s so damn attractive. 

You didn’t notice you were staring at him for a while now that he turned to you—lowering his Versace sunglasses, cocking his head. 

“Baby,” He called again. You placed your hand above his as he pulled you gently closer to him. “Now, look,” He added, wrapping his left arm around your waist while pulling out the gun hiding on his belt. 

“What?” You asked, turning your eyes to those men. 

“They are accomplices of the man who tried to assault you last night,”  He said. 

“Are you going to kill them too?” You asked, trembling under his touch. 

“You may want to cover your ears for this, love,” He whispered as his hand covered your eyes while yours came to cover your ears. 

“How did you get inside the Park’s Foundation?” Chan asked them. 

“That’s none of your business,” One of them spoke when a gunshot was heard making you flinch. Hyunjin made you turn around as if he was hugging you, again. You buried your face on his chest, hugging him tightly. 

One down. Three to go. 

“You will never make us speak about the Jungs,” Another one said. 

“I know you won’t. We don’t need anything from you,” Hyunjin said, cocking his gun before aiming it at the man’s forehead, making the man flinch in response. “I don’t like people who meddle with my business. She’s mine to take, motherfucker. Any last words? Any of you?” It seemed like Hyunjin was worked up but managed to keep his cool. 

“Fuck you, Wolves!” 

Hyunjin pulled the trigger as continuous loud gunshots were heard through the island. You flinched at the sound and wanted to walk away but you couldn’t move, again. The same scenario happened twice within the first 24 hours. Why would they want you here?

“Dispose of them,” Chan ordered. “Take Y/n back to the guesthouse. We’ll investigate further of this,” 

“Yes Sir,” 

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin asked, turning to you while removing his sunglasses as he felt you were shaking from what just happened. 

“Y-yeah,” You stuttered while holding his forearms for support. 

You admit that was cool of him but who the fuck would shoot people in broad daylight?! And Chan too?! You weren’t sure about the baby call sign but it made your heart leap. It was unexpected of him to say that you’re now confused about what kind of treatment you are getting from him. It’s either he’s concerned, hot-tempered, nonchalant hot motherfucker, or what. 

Hyunjin doesn’t understand how he feels about you. Maybe he felt sympathy because you had the same tragic stories to tell. You are one of his rare cases. Maybe the first when he is supposed to be out there killing someone—just like what happened a few minutes ago. Felix came to take you back to the guesthouse leaving him alone on the shooting range, watching the guards cleaning up the mess he just made. Seungmin patted his shoulder before walking away—following Chan back to the guest house. It wasn’t even 10 in the morning. 

“Tsk,” And at that moment, he left. 

“I hope you won’t hate us for what Hyunjin just did,” Felix said as he made you sit on your bed. 

“They probably deserve it,” You said, hanging your head low. 

“He does,” Felix smiled. “But hey, don’t worry, we’re doing this to protect you,” 

“I know,” You smiled bitterly. “It’s just that, I wasn’t expecting that my life would change in a snap. Everything is new to me,” 

“I know,” Felix answered. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m not, I’m scared,” You sniffed, hugging your knees closer to your chest as Felix sat in front of you. 

“I apologize for making you witness everything of this,” He sighed. “We can’t do anything about it, Y/n. If anything happens to you, this rivalry will continue to grow,” 

“I know,” You cried. “Hyunjin and Chan don’t need to show me. I mean, I didn’t see anything but it’s scaring me,” Felix saw you shaking at that moment and hugged you immediately trying to calm you down. 

“It won’t happen again,” He added, hugging you tighter. “You should take some rest, my brothers and I are heading back to Seoul after lunch,” 

“What? I thought you were staying for a few days?” You asked, looking at him. 

“Can’t,” Felix smiled. “You saw what Hyunjin did right? We’ll do the same once we get back to Seoul. The Jungs are making offenses now so we better do something. Those men were brought here to be punished. Don’t worry, Hyunjin will take care of you and there are a lot of guards around. We’ll be back soon to check up on you,” 

And so, they did. You hugged Felix tightly before he could get into the private jet. Such a shame that you didn’t get to spend some time with him when he’s only the one who made you feel welcome and comfortable. The others didn’t seem to grow on you at the time and left after saying goodbyes and reassured that they’d come back. Jeongin didn’t say a word to you ever since you came—even Changbin. 

“They don’t like me that much, right?” You asked Hyunjin as you stood together far away from the runway. 

“You can’t force someone to like a person who you just met,” Hyunjin answered with his hands in his pockets, watching the jet take off. “But Felix is already fond of you and maybe Seungmin,” He added and waited for the jet to disappear from your sight. You made sure you waved at them goodbye even if they wouldn’t be able to see that anymore and Hyunjin was assumed. “Let’s go,” 

“Will you kill someone again?” You asked making Hyunjin to stop when he was about to leave. 

“Not unless someone we don’t know comes in here, or a traitor,” He said as if it were nothing. Well, he’s an assassin for a reason. 

“You scared me back there, and last night,” You said, making Hyunjin turn to face you. 

“It is my job,” He said. “I do what I am asked to do. Don’t tell me you’re thinking that I’ll kill you too?” 

“No!” You answered immediately. “Just… just don’t drag me again when you shoot someone. Even if you ask me to turn around, I don’t want to be in the actual scene,” 

“I can’t promise you that,” He said. “You won’t survive alone unless you know how to use a gun to protect yourself,” And with that, he started to walk away leaving you sniffing on the verge of tears. 

**

You stayed inside your room during the early days ever since you got here. Hyunjin only sees you during breakfast, lunch, and dinner and then you disappear. He often spends his time at the shooting range—still practicing his skills (you could hear them) or sometimes you see him taking a stroll by the shore alone, from your bedroom’s window. It felt like living with a stranger. Which it is, to begin with. You don’t talk a lot, no Hi’s and Hellos, Good mornings and Goodnights, just a single nod and silence. 

How could you talk to him again when you dislike him? After all that happened and he’s being a bitch sometimes. You can’t understand him either. 

Hyunjin didn’t even wonder why it felt like you were his prisoner who voluntarily locks themself inside when you’re allowed to walk around. Of course, he knew how you feel about him. One apology wouldn’t heal your trauma. 

It felt lonely for him—it felt different way back to how he was living with his brothers in Seoul. But he asked for a vacation and this is it, minus the fact that he has to watch over you and you’re not amused with the situation. No WiFi, just old movies being downloaded that are on repeat, no calls and messages, except for Hyunjin, and just a bunch of books being piled in your room, some are found in the main living room. It’s like spending your summer at a summer camp where you’re supposed to reconnect with nature but the difference is, you’re always inside your room and living with a skilled assassin. 

Your phone is useless, your laptop is useless, and you are helpless. Sleeping is not an option anymore. You are bored and you are fighting the urge to speak to someone. You can’t even trust the staff working around here, how come you think about Hyunjin?

It was a Friday afternoon when you decided to drag yourself out of that prison and made your way toward the gate—heading to the shore. You were wearing a canary long-sleeved polo and beige shorts as you walked barefoot with a book in your hand. Unbeknownst to your presence, Hyunjin was walking at a distance. You sat on a small bench letting the gentle sunset warm up your skin and provide the bright rays to let you read. It is just a random book that caught your attention while walking around the house this morning. 

You started to read while crossing your legs, letting the wind play with your hair as you flipped the pages. Words to words, sentences to paragraphs, chapters to chapters. Hyunjin saw you at that time and just walked past by. And the same scenario keeps on happening every other afternoon until one Wednesday afternoon, he finally sat down beside you—making you startled. 

“Is that book entertaining?” He asked. 

“Barely,” You sighed. “There’s nothing much I can do around the house,” 

“For you, but I’m happy I’m here,” He said. “A break that I need,” 

“Good for you,” You sighed again. “Why are you talking to me?” 

“Because I’m bored?” He asked, being unsure. 

“You? Bored? Beats me,” You scoffed. 

“I am,” Hyunjin answered, rolling his eyes. “You’re bored, are you?” He asked. 

“Obviously,” You answered, closing the book. “I don’t spend my free time that well without an internet connection,” 

“Had to cut it off so they won’t find you,” Hyunjin answered. 

“I know,” You said, looking at the calm waves crashing on the shore. “Those men you shot the other day, what was their motive?” 

“They work for the Jungs. The man at the party was a spy. They probably shared your profile with everyone so they’d find you easily,” He started. “They were brought here after it was revealed that they’re the rats and came to the party with him,” 

“You were showing off when you killed them by the way,” You said which made him chuckle in response. “And if I didn’t know what you do, I would have sued you when I get out of here. You even called me Baby and kissed me. It made my heart leap. You shouldn’t do that,” 

“Oh, I did?” He smirked. “I just don’t like my property being touched by anyone else,” It made you want to jump into the water. How could he say that just like that?

“I’m not your property,” You hissed. “I am my own person,” 

“Baby, as long as you’re here, you are labeled as mine,” He said without removing that fucking attractive smirk on his face before leaving you alone and walking back to the gate. “Don’t stay out late, sweetheart,” He winked before he could even go in. 

“What a jerk,” You said under your breath—being a blushing mess. 

Dinner happened quietly as you sat across from each other. Only the steak knife, spoon, and fork were forced to make sounds along with the glasses being half-filled with wine. You tried to focus on your food and yet Hyunjin’s facial features made you take glances at him. It was hard not to look at him—remembering the fact that you find him attractive, that actually became the case. The crush thing wasn’t that serious—it only faded after it occurred. 

Hyunjin pretended as if he didn’t notice how you looked at him and when he caught you staring, you’d look away. He smiled to himself while munching his food while your head hung low. 

“Do you want to watch a movie?” He asked, taking a sip of his wine. 

“I’ve seen them,” You answered, shoving a piece of steak in your mouth. 

“All of them?” He asked, being amused. 

“There are only a dozen,” You said. “I can watch 4-5 movies a day,” 

“I guess it’s true that you’re a home buddy,” He chuckled. 

“I am,” You answered. “There’s nothing for me to watch anymore,” 

“A night stroll?” 

“Too cold,” 

“Read a book?” 

“I just finished a trilogy, I’m tired,” 

“Sleep?” 

“Hyunjin, I don’t have anything to do the whole day, what makes you think that I won’t sleep if I’m not reading?” 

Hyunjin eventually gave up.

“What do you want to do then?” He asked. 

“I don’t know…” You answered, making Hyunjin sigh. 

“Alright, we’ll figure out what else we can do,” Hyunjin said then it made you notice a sudden change of attitude.

“You know what scares me more?” You asked. 

“What?”

“I know you murder people as a job, and that scares me, but you being hospitable and nice, scares me more,” You said, leaning onto the table and making him laugh. That’s unexpected, he’s cute. His eyes disappear as his mouth opens to laugh. He’s like a laughing weasel, but louder. 

“I’m not a bad person, Y/n,” He said. “I don’t do shits without a valid reason, I kill criminals. Not civilians. If I’d been careless, I would die without a gun,” You didn’t say anything after that, but you thanked him for dinner, and just like any other night, you went back to your room. 

It started raining a few moments after you got inside your room. It’s the first time you have ever experienced such a phenomenon and it’s scaring you too. It was unexpected to rain that night with thunder and lightning—they were all visible from your window, knowing that you were facing the ocean. The curtains don’t help to turn a blind eye out of it. You can’t even sleep, not even a blink. It was also cold despite your navy blue long-sleeved pajamas. 

Meanwhile, Hyunjin settled in his room, finishing the bottle of wine from dinner while scrolling through his phone—the data is only limited for him and does not let you know his connection to the outside world. It’s better to be safe than sorry. 

Emails kept on flooding his inbox, some came from his brothers and others were invitations to parties. There’s one of them where his presence is a must. But that doesn’t take place in two weeks. Who knows what will happen before the party? He doesn’t even know how to entertain you after all that happened during the past few days. And just like how you felt, you are strangers living under the same roof because of your family affairs. 

Hyunjin sighed in defeat as he placed his phone along with his glass on the side table, preparing to sleep—not minding the roaring sounds from the sky when he heard a knock on his door. You are terrified of the storm and can barely sleep. Having the lights on doesn’t help when the loud sounds of thunder make you flinch underneath the duvet. You don’t usually feel like this when you are still living in the city but being placed into a new environment makes it hard to adjust. Especially when they sound like the shots being fired. 

“Come in!” You heard Hyunjin say. 

It was also a hard decision. No one in this house can be trusted and the maids and other staff were dismissed after 8 p.m. He’s the only choice. You hesitated to go in, but you heard him—he’s probably waiting and not expecting you to be there. Either way, you opened the door with a pillow in one hand as you entered his room, feeling embarrassed and awkward. 

“What do you want?” He asked as you hesitated to speak up—biting your lower lip, Hyunjin saw the pillow in your left hand and landed his gaze on your face, waiting to say something. “What?” He asked. 

“C-can I sleep with you?” You asked as you felt your cheeks burning. Hyunjin stares at you for a few seconds before the thought of it sinks in which makes him smirk. You realized he was wearing a black tank top and gray sweatpants. His collarbones were highly visible, hair disheveled for what reason? And that broad shoulders, damn—his arms made you want to experience being head locked. “I can’t sleep with the storm outside,” You added, trying not to be distracted. 

“Are you checking me out?” He asked, making you shake your head violently. 

“Deny it all you want. I can tell that you’re lying,” He said, cocking his head. 

“Okay!” You exclaimed. “I was,” You sighed in defeat as Hyunjin scoffed. 

“Come here baby,” He said, motioning his head—lifting his duvet for you to slide in. 

“Don’t call me baby!” You hissed at him. 

“Then, I won’t let you sleep with me,” He said, crossing his arms on his chest. 

“No! Wait,” You said. “Just tonight though,” 

“Just lay down,” He ordered as you slipped in under his covers—hugging your pillow with your body facing him. 

His bed smells like him. That strong intoxicating perfume he had at the party and the one he had the moment you arrived here. It’s kind of soothing. 

“Don’t mind me and just go to sleep,” You said but there’s no way that Hyunjin’s going to ignore you. “Good night,” You added, shutting your eyes—covering your face lightly with the pillow. 

“Good night,” Hyunjin said. 

He won’t be able to sleep for a while. 

**

Morning came as the gentle sunlight peeked through Hyunjin’s window. It woke you up as you were lying a meter beside the window—fluttering your eyes open as you made a small stretch. The pillow you had last night was already lying on the floor and you found Hyunjin’s body facing you. Your hand landed on your chest, clutching it to stop your heart from racing. He looks innocent when he sleeps, like an angel—half of his face is buried in his soft pillow, like a dumpling being squished. A handsome and cute young man, with a great body, veiny arms, and a tattoo on his right arm. A wolf’s head? 

The sunlight touched his skin which gave you a more detailed observation of his features. He looked so good up this close. You wondered if he ever dated anyone. It’s probably hard and dangerous, knowing his career at that. 

You sat up slowly trying not to wake him up. The sunlight was directed to his face which made you lift your hand a bit higher to cover him. Your eyes didn’t leave him and continued to stare, not like a creep, but someone who is mesmerized by his ethereal beauty. His plump lips that you want to kiss—shut up Y/n. You already got to taste his lips. Fuck. His long bangs resting on his cheek down to the bridge of his nose—your fingers gently pushed the strands behind his ears. Hyunjin felt as if he was just pretending to be asleep. 

“You’re beautiful,” You said softly. 

“I know, right?” He said in his morning voice. Fucking deep, and hoarse. “Don’t lie when I ask you if you’re checking me out,” 

“I’m not,” You denied, cheeks burning from the sight and feeling. Hyunjin opened his eyes and sat up. 

“I said, don’t lie,” He answered. 

“I said, I’m not,” You denied again making him look at you and leaned closer, whispering something to your ear.

“You’re a bad liar,” He said and walked straight to the bathroom leaving you dumbfounded and red. Meanwhile, he heard the door shut when he was about to take a shower. It made him smile to himself. Cute. 

A few moments later, he found you eating alone at the dining table. A chicken sandwich and a glass of milk—it is a luxury. Hyunjin came in his white robe with his hair still soaked from the shower. It almost made you choke on your food—but okay. 

“You’re not going out today?” You asked him. 

“Good morning, Y/n,” He said, walking past you—settling down on the seat from the other side of the table.

“Good morning,” You replied with a mouth full of bread. “So are you going out or not?”

“Not this morning,” He answered, taking a bite of his food. “Why? Do you want me to leave?” 

“No. I’m lonely and you’re literally the only person I talk to,” You said, taking a sip of your milk. 

“I’m taking the cabin cruiser this afternoon. Want to join me?” He asked. 

“You have a mini yacht?” You asked, amused at how rich this family is. 

“Of course, Minho Hyung lent it to me,” He said as if it was nothing. 

“Can I go? Pretty please? I’ve never been on one,” You asked again with puppy eyes and pouty lips. Hyunjin looked so done with the expression and made a side-eye. But he doesn’t want to be bitch so there he goes. 

“Sure, you might die if I leave you,” He chuckled as you rolled your eyes in response. 

**

The afternoon sunset is the most beautiful scene on this island. It is breathtaking that you never get tired of looking at it every day. You barely witness this kind of phenomenon knowing that you work like a dog during the weekdays and sleep on your days off. It’s a waste of being alive not to enjoy the life of being an actual adult. 

It is indeed a nice place to spend your summer with a book in hand while in the middle of the sea and going with Hyunjin could be one of the best times you’ll ever have. You don’t know the rest and you’re not expecting anything good after that. He already hopped inside the cabin cruiser as you were assisted by one of the bodyguards. He said it will only be you and him to the sea while they wait by the shore. 

The wind got stronger when you settled inside as Hyunjin was driving it. Black high-waisted shorts and a white polo top, brown sandals, and sunglasses on the crown of your head—Hyunjin thought you were cute but he didn’t need to say that. You sat down at the back, admiring the view while feeling the summer breeze. It was a delicate warmth that touched your skin as it boosted your serotonin—almost making you decide not to leave. 

“Are you in for a swim?” Hyunjin asked. 

“No! I can’t swim!” You answered. 

“What a bummer!” He said. 

“I know!” 

Not after a while, you felt the boat stop in the middle of the sea as Hyunjin made his way toward the deck. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, standing up from your seat—taking your small bag (which holds your sunblock and an unfinished book). 

“Swimming,” He said and started unbuttoning his blue-striped polo. You had to look away before attempting to climb on deck. “Are you sure you won’t join me?” 

“Hyunjin, if I knew how to swim then I would,” You answered. 

“Suit yourself,” He said before jumping into the water as you climbed up—taking a seat on deck catching him rising above water while wiping his face. “The water is so nice! You’re missing out!” 

“I’m fine right here!” You defended, taking the book out from your bag and started to read, not minding how long he’d take to swim the entire ocean if he wanted to. 

He caught you taking glances at him as he swam around the boat while you were trying to read. The wind kept blowing your hair away as the book flipped its pages on its own. Your head hangs low as you avoid any eye contact Hyunjin would randomly give each time he rises—running his hands, brushing his hair upwards. Which is hot, especially with that body—that washboard abs being molded by the heavens—damn you Hwang Hyunjin. He never fails to make you blush. 

You managed to read a chapter without getting distracted but were surprised when Hyunjin decided to get back up through the swim platform, heading to the deck. He was soaked and droplets of water from his clothes and hair were making you wet, including the pages of the book. You tsked at the sight of it as he picked up his shirt with a towel at hand before sitting down next to the empty spot beside you while drying his hair. 

“You smell like seaweed,” You said. “Had enough of the ocean?” 

“It was just a quick swim,” He defended. 

“I read an entire chapter so it was quite a while,” You shrugged. “Thanks for asking me to join you by the way. I could’ve died in boredom back there,” 

“You’re welcome,” He smiled for the first time which made your heart warm. 

You didn’t know what to say after that and just let him dry his hair, not minding how he kept sprinkling seawater on you. But some things were bothering you at that very moment—his tattoo and the gang war that is currently happening. You haven’t heard from his brothers for a week now and you’re worried. Maybe Hyunjin still have connections with them but at the same time, you don’t have any contact with the outside world. You don’t know what’s going on as you sit there, watching the sunset. 

Hyunjin didn’t say a word too but he kept on making noises about how bad the seawater affected the smoothness of his hair. It became frizzy after all the salt it consumed. He hasn’t changed his clothes either and is still topless. You shoved the book back into your bag, putting it away as you sighed—eyes wandering around the horizon. Such a beautiful view. 

“Can I ask you something?” You started. 

“Hmm?” Hyunjin hummed in response. 

“What’s going to happen to me after you get rid of the Jungs?” You asked, looking at him as he stopped drying his hair. 

“That would depend on you,” He answered. “We kept you heir to continue the legacy and when everyone’s gone, it’s either you give everything your parents left behind to us and forget about this, or be part of us.” He added as you sighed heavily—looking back at the horizon. “It’s a hard decision since we dropped a bomb on you but still, it’s in your hands,” 

“Seems like a big responsibility, Hyunjin,” You answered. 

“You have a lot of time to decide, Y/n. It doesn’t matter how long,” Hyunjin smiled. 

“I wish someone told me sooner,” You sighed. “What about that tattoo on your left arm,” 

“Ah, this?” He chuckled, showing you a wolf’s head as if it was howling—imprinted on his forearm. “It’s an emblem. All of my brothers have one. We identify as Wolves since we don’t share the same surnames. It’s Chan Hyung’s favorite animal,” 

“Oh, so that’s why those men you killed called you Wolves?” You asked as he nodded in response. “You guys are cool,” 

“You think so?” He chuckled. 

“Yeah, and the other clan is simply Jungs. Basic,” You shrugged. “Did your brothers tell anything that they’re visiting?”

“Not yet, they’re busy,” Hyunjin sighed. “So it will be just you and me on this island for quite some time,” 

“That’s fine. I just hope they’re okay,” You smiled before standing up to get a closer look at the water. Hyunjin followed you, peeking down below where the anchor was. Then, an idea came into his mind where he playfully tried to push you off the railings making you squeal in shock, but his arms were wrapped around your waist to pull you closer. “Hey! That’s not funny,” You scolded as he laughed in response. 

“Your reaction was so cute,” He said making your cheeks heat up. 

“Was it?” You chuckled in response. “I would kill you if I fell,” 

“You won’t,” He said. 

“Oh yeah? Try me,” You smirked as Hyunjin let you go and started chasing you around, laughing at each other when you slipped because of the excess seawater he brought after swimming and fell. 

“Y/n! Fuck!” He hissed under his breath and dived in while you were trying to keep your head above water with your arms splashing and flapping around. Hyunjin caught you with one of his arms as the other one made the effort to take you to the swim platform at the back of the cabin cruiser. You were out of breath when Hyunjin took you out of the water—coughing in between. “Shit, are you okay? I’m sorry,” He said being worried as fuck. He didn’t mean to. 

“I’m fine,” You coughed, taking a seat as he sighed harshly. 

“I’m sorry,” He said taking an extra towel to wrap around your wet body. 

“It’s fine, Hyunjin, stop it,” You said, hugging yourself. “Thanks,” Hyunjin sighed again and sat beside you—taking all the strands of hair that were covering your face. You were watching him do it, not realizing you were staring at his lips and remembered how they felt when they were on yours. It was an intoxicating one. You gulped at the thought. He was also drying your hair, slowly twisting the water out of it when his eyes caught where you were looking at. 

“Y/n,” He called but you didn’t budge. You were too focused on how his lips quiver when he is worried and how they move when he speaks. “Y/n!” 

“I’m sorry, what?” You asked, coming back to him. 

“Did the seawater clog your ears?” He chuckled. “You were staring,” 

“I’m sorry,” You said as a smirk painted on his lips. You felt his hands on your cheeks as he looked into your eyes, slowly leaning closer which made you freeze on your spot—closing your eyes just in case he’d kiss you. Your heart is racing again. What is happening to you? But instead of expecting a kiss, you heard him laugh instead, making you push him away. 

“Don’t tease me like that,” You sighed, not until he moved closer crashing his lips onto yours. 

Your hand reached his jaw as your thumb started caressing his cheek while you felt his right arm pulling you closer to his body. The kiss was so hot and intimate that you forgot about falling from the cabin cruiser and as Hyunjin deepened the kiss with your lips molding together, and your arms were already around his neck. Your bodies were pressed together—his plump lips were soft and warm, just like the first time but without the alcohol leaving an aftertaste. Your lips parted slowly allowing his tongue to slip in as your noses brushed against each other while tilting your head to the sides. Your heart never stopped racing. 

Hyunjin felt weird. It wasn’t like this during the first time. That kiss was sudden and no lingering feelings unlike what you have right now. Maybe it was how you opened up to him slowly the puppy eyes you showed this morning, or the fact that he once kissed you and that he couldn’t take you out of his mind even though he shouldn’t be feeling any emotions after that. He finds you attractive, that’s a plus—or was it the way you hugged him when you got sacred or the fact that you buried your face against his chest and hugged him while you were sleeping which you are not aware of? Or maybe that time when he woke up first and stared at you this morning and the other day when you slept in his room during the first night. It can be the way you looked at the party or how stupid you were when you got drunk, blabbering nonsense inside his car. He’s confused. 

He felt his heart racing too as you hugged him tightly, not knowing how many seconds that have passed when your lips were against each other. It was filled with astonishment for the both of you but it felt more than that, not until you pulled away for some air—leaving you all red and hot. Hyunjin was left hanging as he looked away. He thought it was a good move the second time. 

“I-I’m gonna go and change,” You said and was about to stand up when Hyunjin grabbed your wrist.

“You didn’t bring any clothes,” You heard him say. Stupid!

“Right,” You said, looking at his large hand, wrapped around your wrist. “Can you let go now? Dry yourself,” 

“I hope that kiss won’t change anything,” He said as you stood there. 

“I will,” You said. 

“What?” He asked, looking up at you. 

“My feelings,” You answered as Hyunjin finally stood up. “You did it the second time without warning,” 

“And that’s a problem?” He asked. Bitch. 

“The first one was,” You argued. “I mean…” 

“You mean what, do you like me?” He asked, grabbing your shoulders for you to look at him. 

“You need to try harder,” You said, locking eyes with him. 

“So am I allowed to kiss you even without permission?” He asked again, brushing some strands of your hair behind your ear. 

“You did them anyway,” You answered. “But I’m still not sure about how I feel about you. I’m still scared, Hyunjin,” 

“Y/n, you can trust me,” He argued. 

“I know that!” You sighed. “But let’s take a raincheck, shall we?” 

“I can wait,” He said, letting you go, and left for the wheel to take you two back to the island.

The awkward atmosphere came back as you two became distant again. It feels the same during the first days you lived together but with the knowledge that you two are interested yet unsure about each other’s feelings. Hyunjin came back to his usual routine by being in shooting range while you stayed by the shore every afternoon to read. No words were exchanged, just glances and awkward dinners. Yet, it wasn’t long enough that another storm came that one night. This time, more terrifying. The trauma that the brothers have left you didn’t go away even if Hyunjin was able to get inside your walls and be friends with you (with a kiss as a tip). 

You found yourself outside his room again, knocking on his door with a pillow in hand. Hyunjin didn’t even expect a lot of you to come here after what happened yet it seemed like the storm was getting inside your head. You couldn’t sleep—you couldn’t sleep properly ever since what happened at the cabin cruiser. It’s hard to go to sleep when your heart is racing, your cheeks burning, and having an unsure situationship with Hwang Hyunjin. 

He became vulnerable ever since he saw you that evening and it became worse when you slept with him, much worse when you kissed, and now this. 

He was wearing a white shirt with its sleeves rolled up onto his shoulders showing his muscular arms and black shorts. His black hair was messy and his eyes were tired from not being able to sleep during the past nights. Same reason though, but with more feelings. He forgot about himself being an assassin but a lover boy. 

“Can’t sleep?” He asked as he stared at you, wearing that white long dress and barefooted. 

“Yes,” You said softly, closing the door behind you. 

“Lay down,” He answered, cocking his head to the empty spot beside him. 

You walked slowly as you reached his bed, lifting the thick duvet—slipping inside, and laid down beside him. Hyunjin just watched you move as he stayed still on his spot—sitting on his side of the bed. The wind is cold as it enters through his window being left ajar. His room was dim and only the two lamps from each side of the bed were the ones switched on. Still, you could see his handsome features which you thought were perfectly molded by the gods. A son of Aphrodite with a great body, almost like Poseidon. His eyes fixated on you as you were looking back at him. 

Nobody said a word—he wanted to, but nothing came out of his mouth. He became different. So different from the first time you met. He was a man who curses a lot and was hot-tempered, now he’s quiet and distant. This island is supposed to bring you two closer, that’s what you thought after being stuck here with him. But the thing is, the brothers brought you here to protect you—not seducing Hyunjin.

You weren’t used to it and that fucking kisses you shared were special—you thought about it a lot. It was immaculate, one of a kind. He’s a good kisser to be exact. It was out of the plan that you two should fall in love. But after days of having to deal with each other’s presence, apparently, you two grew closer. You just don’t know how to continue this relationship by ignoring the changes in the atmosphere. 

“Have you dated anyone?” You asked. That was a stupid question. Really? That’s the first thing you’re going to ask him? 

“Hmm, maybe when I was in college but it didn’t work out,” He said. “Nothing worked out, it’s too crucial for my job,” 

“So you’ve been doing this since then?” 

“Since I turned 20,” He said. “Not really long ago. Why do you ask?” 

“Nothing, just curious,” You answered as he laid down, covering his body with the duvet—facing you. “Were you sad?” 

“No,” He said, not breaking eye contact. “There’s a lot of fish in the sea and I’m waiting for you,” He added, reaching out his hand to caress your hair. 

“I gave it a thought,” You said softly while watching him. “I like you is an understatement. Everything happened so fast and I’m not sure if I’m being valid or not. You fall in love with strangers even without knowing their names, you hook up with someone you just met because you have a lot of feelings, and you’re reckless with someone you don’t know so why does it feel like you’re in a rush within two weeks of getting to know each other after you kissed?” Then Hyunjin stopped as a smile formed on his face. 

“Do you want it that way?” He asked. “Rushed?” You shake your head in response. 

“I want to date you, so bad,” You told him. “I’ve been lonely for a very long time and spending time with you made it bearable. I’m not used to having someone around and I’m not sure how to handle these feelings. I don’t care if you kill people for a job, you make me feel important even if it’s part of your job too,” You added as he watched your lips quiver as if you were confessing under the influence of alcohol. “I’m a newbie in everything, I don’t know how to have fun. I hope you don’t find me weird, I am stupid I know that but I’m thankful that you managed to put up with my shit the first time we met. I used to think you’re a jerk but you ended up being a different person to me and yet you’re still that Hyunjin I had a crush on that night of the party,” Then, his smile grew bigger as he started feeling giddy about it. He leaned closer to kiss your forehead which lasted for a few seconds as he pulled you closer to his body—hugging you tight. 

“Let’s not rush, baby,” He said as you buried your face on his neck. “But things will work out for us, I promise,” He added, kissing your temple. 

“You won’t let yourself be in danger because of me, right?” You asked, looking up at him. 

“I’m here to protect you, okay? Nothing will happen as long as I’m with you,” He reassured which made you a bit emotional. 

Getting attached to him in a short period is between a mistake and a good choice. Letting your guard down was easy but having to think about the consequences of this situation, you will either cry or suffer. No positive outcomes. 

“Just… don’t die,” You said, making him laugh in response. 

“I won’t,” He said as he gave you a peck on the lips. “I will kill them first,” It tugged a smile on your face. 

Who knew that someone you once thought a jerk and a murderer became dear and precious to your heart? 

** 

Ever since that night, you and Hyunjin grew closer than ever. You’d take a stroll by the shore before sunset and throw stones—the person who gets to throw the shortest distance gets to be flicked on the forehead. He would hold your hand—interlocking your fingers together as you swing them back and forth while taking a stroll by the shore on a sunny afternoon. Kicking sand, building sandcastles, or just talking with wine and whiskey for a picnic as you watch the sunset together. 

Sometimes he’d join you reading under the shade of a large tree in the garden where he lays his head on your lap as you read. There were also times when he would trash his space a meter away just to paint you while you were reading—or if you two got bored, he’d invite you to the shooting range trying to teach you how to use a pistol. 

“Focus on the target!” He’d say as you were standing meters away from the shooting target. “If you manage to shoot the red spot over there, then you’re almost like me,” 

It was fun—dangerous even. You were unsure about the idea but Hyunjin was persistent to teach you. He offered earmuffs and ballistic glasses for you to use. Your hands were shaking as the bullets hit the spots far from the red spot he’s been talking about. 

“Not that, Y/n,” He sighed. Hyunjin already taught you how to disassemble and assemble the pistol, and also elaborated on the parts, how many bullets to fit in, and how to reload. Now you’re here as he stood behind you—arms aligned with yours as he held your hands to take them into the right position. You could feel his hot breath on your neck as he instructed you what to do and you tried not to get distracted by it. “Focus, love,” 

“I will if you’re not breathing on my neck,” You said. 

“You’ll get more than me just breathing on your neck when you do a good job,” He answered. “Now look at the target and shoot,” Then suddenly, continuous sounds of shots being fired were heard through the island. Even the birds flew away from the trees in disruption. His lessons lasted for days until you were able to shoot the red spot in the middle. A kiss would do as a reward. 

You’ve spent your days without the thought of what was actually going on. You forgot why you were sent here and being with Hyunjin felt like you’re finally having a life out of work. You didn’t mind watching the movies being piled on the coffee table all over again as the two of you would cuddle on the couch, laughing and crying from the same plot. I’d take you until 4 am and fall asleep in each other’s arms. He didn’t mind them at all—in fact, he enjoys his time being with you—which he is, in the first place. 

Kisses were given at random times. 

A peck on the lips when you wake up and before going to sleep—you two sleep together in his room now. He’d kiss your forehead when you fall asleep while watching a movie as he caresses your hair—staring at you as if you’re the most precious treasure in his life. Long kisses when you sit on his lap while you are talking about how your life was crazy as he’d stare at your lips moving nonstop—a hand on your waist as he tackled you down, hovering above you as he presses his lips onto yours, feeling his hot breath and tasting the recent drink he had. Bodies pressed together with your hand around his nape—his tongue pressed on your slightly parted lips leaving ticklish licks making you giggle in between, hearts racing and adrenaline rush. 

It came naturally. 

“Let’s not rush,” That’s what he said. It was crystal clear but you are acting like a couple during the early phase of a relationship. But that didn’t matter to you anymore. It felt rushed, that’s the point but who cares? After letting your guard down, it’s hard to stand up again. Hyunjin got you wrapped up around his fingers. One small argument would lead to a kiss and make-up afterward. That’s one idea of how you easily give up. 

“Love,” He called as you both lay on his bed on a Thursday night. 

“Hmm?” You hummed in response as your head placed on his chest, listening to his calm heartbeat while his arms wrapped around your back. 

“I got invited to a party,” He answered—kissing the crown of your head. 

“You’re leaving?” You asked, lifting your head to look at him. 

“Yes but you’re coming with me,” He said, leaving a peck on your lips. “You know I can’t leave you here alone. We’re going home to the mansion,” 

“When are we leaving?” 

“Tomorrow morning,” He said. 

“That’s so soon,” You answered. “Are we coming back here?” 

“Depends,” He chuckled. “We can spend the night in your apartment after the party. I’ll make sure no one will know,” He added, kissing the tip of your nose. 

“Okay,” You said, giving him a peck on the lips. A small smile formed on his lips as he locked eyes with you with his fingers tracing your bottom lip in an attempt for a kiss. 

Your faces lean closer as your lips meet—feeling your noses brushed against each other. Hearts racing once again and blood rushes through your veins. Hyunjin made you lay down flat on your back, meeting his soft mattress covered in beige-colored bed sheets fresh from the laundry. Your heads tilted on different sides as he hovered above you once again, with a hand on your cheek—deepening the kiss. His lips tangled with yours, feeling each other’s hot breaths sending electric shocks all over your body. His kiss felt different from the other ones you’ve had. It seemed hungry and desperate. 

Your eyes closed, bodies pressing together then a soft sound was heard from you when you felt his lips on your neck, leaving wet kisses and biting your skin gently. 

“What are you doing?” You asked as his kisses traveled down to your collarbones yet you could not still make eye contact with him. 

“Shh,” You heard him say before his lips met yours again to shut you up. You felt his fingers slip inside your shirt, tracing your bare skin—slipping them inside your heart-printed pajamas to your black laced panties while never leaving your lips alone. It sent butterflies in your stomach and it became worse when you felt his fingers rubbing against your wetness. “I didn’t do anything that much yet and you’re already this wet?” 

It was awkward, you that but how can you blame yourself? 

Hyunjin pulled away as he yanked off his tank top, revealing his physique—giving you a closer look. His legs were parted as your hips lay between them. You could feel your cheeks burning at the sight which he finds cute. His lips met yours again, slowly lifting your shirt which you willingly let him. You started breathing faster against his lips when he started removing your pajamas, only leaving you with the black undergarments. 

He started sucking and biting your lips as he went back on tracing his fingers from your chest, traveling down inside your panties, feeling your wetness. You let out a soft sound as a reaction to his touch. His long fingers touching your slit are already leaving your mind blank. You are confused and don’t know what to feel. You’ve read about this a lot but never get the chance on having to apply it to yourself. His lips never left yours as you let him take your panties off, not a long moment after because he was annoyed with the feeling of the fabric—limiting his actions. 

He parted your legs as you exhaled when you felt his kisses travel on your inner thighs—it drove you crazy when his tongue reached your wet pussy licking and kissing it emphatically. Arching your back as a response, the sounds you make are like music to his ears. It felt so good and hot at the same time. His eyes were watching your reactions as your mouth gapped when started eating you out. Your hands traced his bedsheets, crumpling them for you to hold on tightly.

“God, you’re so wet,” He said as his fingers were dugged into your bare skin, leaving nail marks—slowly pushing his tongue inside. 

“Oh!” You breathed out, feeling his tongue inside your walls—your heart was pounding above rate as he never stopped pushing in and out. He felt your hand grabbing his hair making him go deeper with his tongue. It was a weird feeling as your toes curled at the sensation and you loved it. Hyunjin noticed you’re taking it well and he didn’t stop sooner. 

One of his hands slipped inside your bra, squeezing your breast against the thick fabric. It fits his hand well. His lips kissed your dripping cunt as he went up to your stomach until he reached your neck, biting down lightly—sucking it, trying to find your sweet spot. You felt his hands on your back, unhooking your bra and getting rid of it on the floor. He was amused with your body, it was perfect. It fits perfectly for him. 

“You don’t just have a pretty face, but this body too,” He said in between his kisses on your neck, leaving marks as he heard you moan. His growing bulge is pressing against your hips through his sweatpants. You were panting heavily when he found your sweet spot, causing you to curse him which let out a soft chuckle before taking your lips again. Your nipples hardened when his fingers accidentally brushed them after unhooking your bra—you whimpered softly when he pinched them, slowly pulling your sensitive buds just to tease you out of it. 

“Fuck,” You hissed under your breath. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. His dick is throbbing inside his pants, upon seeing you fully naked. Hyunjin pulled away as he shoved his sweatpants down on his knees and pulled your hips closer to his. Your face turned red upon seeing his hardened dick up close—you licked your lips biting it before seeing the smirk being plastered on his face. 

“Do you want me to continue?” He asked. 

“Please,” You pleaded.

Feeling the adrenaline rush, Hyunjin rubbed his cock against your cunt—feeling the friction. Your back met his soft mattress again as he slowly slipped his length inside you, hissing when he realized he was the first one to touch you. 

“Fuck,” It hurts, now he knows what to do. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he started to thrust himself inside out as gently as he could yet it caused your eyes to roll back—making sinful sounds. You gasped at the feeling as you were breathing faster. He brought his lips to your nipples as his tongue swirled around the buds before sucking them making you moan in response. “Oh, God,” 

He suddenly moved a bit faster which made you go insane. The continuous lustful sounds you make urge him to change his pace. Your legs spread wide indulging the pain and pleasure between them as tears started forming in your eyes—nails dugged into his bare back making red marks visible. Hyunjin growled in response as he went faster making you cry. His lips met yours again, devouring them like no other man could. 

Hyunjin sweats easily, making his bangs soaked from all the movements he did. His lips became hotter and plump than before. It’s intoxicating as you could taste your wetness in his mouth with your tongues tangled. He had to turn you around as you were on your knees with your face buried in the pillows—screaming his name feeling high when he started fucking you from behind. Hands tied on your back as your skin slapped against each other. One hand around your neck as the other one locks your wrists together. You are being railed for the first time. 

The bed was creaking and he never stopped. He loves it as you were taking his cock so well that it drives him crazy. Your screams were all over the place as you moaned his name repeatedly cursing along with it. But not long after, he started to feel his orgasm coming so close that he had to pull himself out—stroking himself before spilling them out on your back. You lay on your back again realizing his sheets were already wet. It sent butterflies in his stomach seeing you fucked up as you pant in exhaustion. 

“Are you good?” He asked, planting a soft kiss on your lips as you nodded in response. 

“Just tired,” You smiled. 

“Did it hurt?” He asked again, making you red as a cherry. 

“It did,” You sighed. “Did you do this before?” 

“Maybe,” Hyunjin chuckled. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” He said, kissing your forehead before lifting you as he made his way to the bathroom. 

**

“Love?” It was Hyunjin’s voice that woke you up after a deep slumber. The fact that you got tired from what happened last night made you fall asleep in his arms quickly. Sadly, you didn’t want to get up and stay in bed the whole day but for sure he’s going to drag you out any time now. 

“Hmm?” You hummed in response—fluttering your eyes open. 

“Get dressed, we’re leaving in an hour,” He said softly as he caressed your cheek. His body was blocking the sunlight that entered through the window as he sat down on your side of the bed. It was a sweet good morning—the way you kissed his palm for a response while closing your eyes, Hyunjin’s heart fluttered inside. “I’ll have your breakfast ready, okay?” He added, kissing your forehead. 

“Okay,” You smiled. 

“Okay,” He answered—leaving the room, and closing the door behind him. 

You let out a heavy sigh and got up to do your morning routine then it led you to some thoughts. Doing things like what couples usually do and yet Hyunjin and you didn’t put any labels until now. You love him, that’s a fact. This is probably because of the things he does—maybe his job or whatever. It is hard to commit and he thought that maybe having a blooming relationship without any labels yet, could be considered as a reassurance that he will pursue you. 

Like what you said, like is an understatement. It doesn’t sort everything in place. Like is not enough and flings are just trash. 

You found yourself again at the mansion. Felix welcomed you with a tight hug and Seungmin plastered a smile on his face while wearing those glasses on the bridge of his nose which you didn’t notice before. Chan was waiting in his office and Hyunjin left you there with them. Felix had a lot to talk about when he brought you to the main living room. There were no changes for almost 3 weeks that you were gone. The same Seoul City where you grew up but the life you once had disappeared in the blink of an eye. 

Hyunjin sat in front of Chan’s desk as Seungmin placed a pile of papers in front of him. Minho on the other hand placed a small envelope on the top of it. Those were signs—signs that he had to go on a mission again and the party that he was invited to is one. They were discussing something important inside as Felix tried to entertain you. It feels good to have him around, you missed him too even if you just talked for less than 24 hours when you left. You also wondered why they didn’t come to visit you on the island. 

“So, how did your break go?” He asked. It wasn’t a break, for sure. It was called hiding and falling in love with his brother. 

“It was fine. I got a little bored but Hyunjin and I got along,” You answered. 

“I’m happy to know!” He beamed. “Ah, there’s a party tomorrow night. Hyunjin is invited,” 

“He mentioned it,” You answered. 

“It will be an ambush for sure,” Felix said. “That’s why we’re going too, unidentified,” 

“Felix,” You called. “My parents didn’t do something illegal when they were alive, right?” 

“As far as I know, they knew about the money laundering and corruption circling the city. Even illegal businesses such as human trafficking, exploiting endangered animals, and sponsoring people who use illegal substances. There are big names involved so they were tracking them down, unfortunately, your relatives support these crimes and turned their backs on the organization. They also knew about property ownership and businesses your parents ran to help big companies provide jobs, sponsor children’s education, and donate to schools and other institutions. But you know how this economy works right? There are big names on the list who put the money in their pockets and invest them in the black market,” He explained. “The Jungs wanted to take our properties away so they can make more money out of it and they’re planning to flee the country once you’re dead and take the money with them. Then these businesses and land ownership will be handed down to their right hands and just wait for a large sum of money to be delivered to their bank accounts,” 

“That’s worse, huh,” You sighed in defeat. 

“You have so much to learn once we get rid of them. You will inherit everything,” He said. 

“That’s a big responsibility, Felix,” 

“I know,” Felix answered. “But we’re here to help. Seungmin can make them yours one order away, he’s going to be your lawyer once everything is done, and Minho Hyung, your adviser. That’s what we do in this family,” 

That’s what we do in this family. 

That’s all the reassurance you need. Maybe Hyunjin, taking you here the night of the party isn’t bad after all. 

Meanwhile, at Chan’s office, the rest of the brothers have gathered. 

“There will be an ambush waiting for you,” Minho said as he sat down on the empty chair beside Hyunjin. 

“Felix got the list of names for the party the other day,” Chan added. “Those documents have their profiles along with the list,” 

“And the Jungs will be there?” Hyunjin asked. 

“We are expecting them,” Seungmin said. 

“Now, what do we do for this type of occasion, Jeongin?” Chan asked the youngest.

“Ms. Jung’s uncle will be there and the rest of his family. He got a few men to join him at the party. Some will be undercover so the rest of us will come unidentified,” Jeongin answered. “Ms. Jung will be our bait, so you need to bring her as your plus one,” 

“Good, and?” Chan asked. 

“We’re going to wait if Mr. Jung will take the bait. He will recognize his niece for sure. You just need to be alert, Hyunjin hyung,” Jeongin said. “Changbin hyung got the blueprint of the venue for the event, there will be surveillance cameras everywhere, however, there are a few blind spots so we can enter the venue without getting caught. We just need to blend in, afterward,” 

“The party is tomorrow night so we still have time to prepare,” Changbin said. “Our target is Mr. Jung,” 

“What about his men, the wife, and the kids?” Hyunjin asked, rubbing his chin. 

“Terminate them all, the wife and kids will be sent to another country, and they will be banned from entering Korea,” Han added. “Seungmin already prepared the documents to file a case against them,” 

“Okay,” Hyunjin exhaled. 

“Seungmin, tell Felix to bring Y/n here,” 

“Yes Sir,” 

The night fell as you were studying the documents Seungmin gave you inside Hyunjin’s room. Felix and he were there to explain everything and help you identify who’s who, their crimes, their work, who they work for, and what type of business they run underground. It was A LOT and it’s dizzying. 

It’s okay, you graduated top of your class and with flying colors, this is nothing more than your thesis and practicals. 

Hyunjin was nowhere to be found at that moment and you were just listening to Seungmin and Felix talk. It distracted you for hours until they left, late at night. Hyunjin suddenly appeared before midnight. He entered the room with a large box and a translucent garment bag with his black suit in it. 

“Where have you been?” You asked, standing up from the bed—approaching him. 

“Shopping,” He said, throwing his suit on his bed as he handed the large box to you. 

“You didn’t invite me,” You pout, making him leave a peck on your lips. 

“Chan said you were busy,” He smiled. “That’s for you, open it,” 

“Really?” It was a silver mermaid floral spaghetti strap long dress. Your mouth gaps upon seeing it as it looks more expensive than the dress you wore at the first party. It was silky as it shone when the light touched the fabric. “It’s so pretty,” 

“Ah, I know, I have the best eyes,” He said proudly. “I knew you would like it,” 

“I do!” You exclaimed. “How did you know my size?” 

“I read your profile, remember? I didn’t forget,” He answered as you kissed him. 

“Thank you,” You said as he stood there frozen on his spot making him a blushing mess. 

“You’re welcome,” He was flustered, yes and you find it cute because he is. 

Fast forward an hour before the party, the brothers waited for you to come down by the main living room. They were all wearing suits, all black as usual and you were nervous about how they would react when they saw you like this. Surprisingly, you did well in taking care of your hair and make-up. It’s always been like this so you study them yourself. Hyunjin was excited and the rest were anticipating—taking a deep breath, you reached the top of the stairs, slowly walking down on each step because of those damn heels. 

Han was the first one to notice you and stood up making everyone do the same. Chan thought it wasn’t bad, Changbin and Minho thought you were good while Jeongin was surprisingly stunned by your beauty. Hyunjin was about to go crazy leaving Seungmin and Felix noticed something, most especially Felix, he’s an intel for a reason and Seungmin can sense a special connection. 

“You look beautiful, Y/n,” Han said. 

“Thank you,” You smiled at him, feeling flustered as Hyunjin took your hand, kissing the back of it. 

“Charming as always,” He said. 

“Save you flirting on a later date Hwang,” Seungmin scolded. 

“Yeah, also, try to keep it inside your pants for the whole evening,” Felix laughed, making Hyunjin glare at them. 

“What the fuck?” He hissed. 

“We know something happened on that island but we won’t ask,” Seungmin shrugged as your lips formed into a thin line out of embarrassment. How did these guys know? Ah, yes, the guards. 

“Let’s go,” Chan said out of nowhere as they all obliged to take their way out. “Hyunjin, you know what to do,” 

“Yes, Sir,” Hyunjin bowed as he assisted you to his car. 

“What is it?” You asked, taking a seat as he locked your seatbelt. 

“Nothing, just enjoy the party—alright?” He smiled, leaving a peck on your lips as he started driving. “You’re aware that your uncle would be there right?” 

“Yes,” You answered. 

“Whatever happens, I want you to leave immediately. Jeongin will take you somewhere safe but as long as the party goes on, stick with me the whole time unless I tell you otherwise, alright?” He instructed as you nodded in response. “Good,” 

You and Hyunjin entered the venue while Chan and the rest of the Wolves parked a block away. It was to avoid being noticed by the Jungs as they used a secret passageway. The blueprint Felix had was helpful enough to find blindspots around the area, guns being loaded—hidden behind their blazer as they patiently waited to be used. 

Minho was right, there was an ambush waiting for Hyunjin and your uncle saw you with him unbeknownst about the bait. His eyes were checking the place discreetly as the other Wolves scattered around the area—exchanging voice messages to their earpiece and mics. Felix walked past behind your uncle upstairs as he was on standby looking at his precious niece and Hyunjin. 

“Target locked, he’s by the railings watching Hyunjin and Y/n,” Felix whispered to his mic. 

“Copy that,” Jeongin answered as he was standing by the counter. “Two men are here, they have tattoos with Jung’s emblem, Snakes,” 

“I got four men here by the pool,” Changbin answered. 

“Stay close,” Chan said, walking on a blind spot, cocking his pistol secretly as he observed Mr. Jung’s wife and two kids. 

“Hyung, I think we’re outnumbered,” Han said, walking by a group of guards who were obviously from the rival gang. 

“Fuck,” Minho hissed from the other side. 

“Hyunjin stay alert,” Seungmin said, taking a glass of whiskey beside Jeongin. 

“Copy,” Hyunjin answered, before turning into you. “Do you want to drink, Love?” 

“No,” You said, immediately refusing. “Remember the first time we met? I vomited in your car and it smells so bad,” You added, making Hyunjin chuckle in response. 

“Okay, okay,” He said. “I’ll get something for me on the counter, alright,” He added before leaning closer to whisper something. “You know what to do,”  You just hummed in response as Hyunjin left you in the middle of the dance floor, Mr. Jung signaled one of his men to come closer and whispered something before going downstairs. 

Felix stood behind them and heard the conversation, immediately sending a distress message to everyone. 

“Incoming to Ms. Jung,” Felix said. “He’s approaching the bait,” 

“Jeongin, stand close to Y/n,” Hyunjin said, cocking his head at the youngest as Jeongin immediately left. 

The moon is shining bright in the sky along with the luminous stars twinkling like sparkles. You stood in the middle of the dancefloor aware of Jeongin’s presence. The party is like a ball where the people who were invited are filthy rich—Hyunjin was invited because he donates money to fashion institutions and charity events. The host used to be a family friend but Hyunjin only came here for the sake of Mr. Jung’s undeserving life. 

The ball is glamorous indeed—it is the theme of the party, and the lights are dim as they rely on the moonlight and lanterns surrounding the dancefloor. It was packed. Most of these people are unknown to you and the only target you should focus on is your uncle. But then, he was out of sight. 

“Ah, cousin!” A stranger’s voice was heard as he came in your direction. You tilt your head upon seeing the person who became familiar after reading about the family members of the Jungs. 

Wooyoung. 

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” You asked. 

“Felix, I thought Mr. Jung was going to take the bait! Not his son!” Han half-yelled to his mic. 

“I’m following him as we speak, he’s going to the basement,” Felix whispered in an attempt to follow the target without being noticed. “Send me Changbin hyung,” 

That came unexpectedly—Wooyoung has a big smile on his face right now while clapping his hands in amusement with two bodyguards behind him. Jeongin was alerted. 

“Hyunjin hyung, Wooyoung is here,” He said. 

“Fuck,” Hyunjin hissed, leaving his whiskey unattended by the counter leaving Jisung on the lookout. “Tell Y/n to go,” 

Changbin left his spot and went to follow Felix. The old man is becoming more suspicious. 

“You think it’s a trap?” Seungmin said from the other line. 

“They don’t know Y/n’s coming,” Chan answered. “Tell her to leave! Jeongin, take her away, and Hyunjin stall Wooyoung for a bit,” 

“Noona, we have to go,” You heard Jeongin say, which caught Wooyoung's attention. 

“Oh, you’re with one of the Wolves? I thought the only Wolf invited was Hyunjin,” He asked, being curious when he read all the names invited for the party. 

“Noona we really need to go,” Jeongin said again. It wasn’t even 10 minutes ever since you arrived and now you’re being asked to leave. 

“Maybe some other time,” You told Wooyoung as you were about to leave with Jeongin but he was persistent. 

“Hey, we have a lot to catch up on,” He said but only it would take a second to steal one of Jeongin’s guns from his belt, cocking it before turning around to point it at Wooyoung’s forehead. His bodyguards immediately took their weapons pointing at you, making Jeongin raise his hands in surrender. Wooyoung wasn’t amused but it was unexpected. 

“Leave her alone,” Hyunjin suddenly came out of nowhere pointing his pistol at Wooyoung from behind. 

“Hey, hey put those guns down! I just want to talk,” He said. 

“Where’s your father?” You asked, still not moving from your spot. Jeongin couldn’t do anything but stand still, whispering something on his mic. 

Meanwhile, Felix and Changbin were following Mr. Jung—it was out of plan that he’d be down here when he was supposed to take the bait. Not Wooyoung. Chan, Minho, and Seungmin came to join the party while Han started to look for Felix and Changbin discreetly. 

“I don’t know, probably somewhere,” He said with a cocky smile plastered on his face as he is currently surrounded. “You brought her here, so hand her over then nobody gets hurt,” 

“Bitch,” You murmured—raising your right hand as a loud gunshot was heard. 

“Noona we need to go!” You heard what Jeongin said. Everyone panicked and ran outside leaving you and the Wolves along with your so-called relatives. Chan and Minho shot his bodyguards as Hyunjin was about to take Wooyoung hostage, he suddenly took his gun out pointing it at him. Everything happened so fast that you didn’t realize Jeongin was already leading you outside the venue. 

“Wait, Hyunjin!” You said—letting go of Jeongin’s grip before you could even get out and go back inside. 

“No! Noona come back!” You heard Jeongin call but ignored him. 

You were welcomed by gunshots being exchanged as you hid under a table—you realized you still had Jeongin’s gun with you, checking how many bullets were left. This will be enough. Wooyoung already ran away as Chan, Minho, and Seungmin were left on the dancefloor, reloading their guns as they hid behind the bar counter. I need to find Hyunjin. 

“Fuck,” Jeongin cursed under his breath as he took the other way back to the venue. You looked around trying to find a blind spot so no one would notice you coming through—by taking off your heels, you hurriedly transferred to the table next to where you were hiding. Chan fired a shot and noticed you behind the guards. 

“Seungmin cover me,” Chan ordered as Seungmin fired with Minho. He managed to shoot one down as Chan fled the counterbar by hiding behind the columns. 

Chan followed you until you reached the stairs that led to the basement. You ran downstairs barefooted as you saw a glimpse of Hyunjin running to a hallway—probably chasing Wooyoung. Unfortunately, it was a trap and Felix, Han, and Changbin were held hostage by Mr. Jung who tied them into a room, guns pointed at their heads by the rest of his bodyguards. Hyunjin was also led to the trap. They were outnumbered. 

You couldn’t get inside and peeked through behind a large vase with huge leaves. Chan was able to grab your arm—pulling you towards a blind spot. 

“What are you doing? You were instructed to leave with Jeongin?” He asked, having his grip around your arm tightened as it was hurting. The way he stares could kill you as they were ice cold yet, burning of anger. 

“I can’t leave Hyunjin alone,” You reasoned out when someone from behind hit the back of Chan’s neck, causing him to pass out, making you scream in terror when they grabbed you to the room with him. “Let me go!” You yelled at the man but he doesn’t give a fuck and even if you tried to let go of his grip—he was too strong to pull you back again. 

Your voice was heard throughout the basement until you reached the room. You saw the Wolves kneeling—hands tied behind their backs as you stood there in front of them. They were surrounded and a man was holding your arm, preventing you from escaping. Chan was unconscious. Felix got a bruise on his forehead and a busted lip. Han and Changbin were also beaten up, and Hyunjin had a gun directed to his temple by Wooyoung as he licked his inner cheek in annoyance—blood dripping from his forehead, a cut at the side of his brow, a busted lip. What the fuck did they do? 

“Where are the rest of the Wolves?” Mr. Jung asked. 

“I don’t know,” You answered firmly. You could see your uncle having that smile plastered on his face while sitting down with a glass of wine in one hand. Fucker.

The only ones missing were Seungmin, Minho, and Jeongin. 

“Find them!” Mr. Jung ordered. 

His wife was there, standing beside her bastard husband. It was a trap after all. The Wolves couldn’t say a word, but you are sure that they’re worried about what’s going to happen. Nobody expected this and you were dumb to follow Hyunjin, but if you didn’t, what could happen? Your eyes wandered around the area to find something to make a solution or a way to get out. But you can’t do this alone. 

Fuck, these are all walls and there’s only one entrance and exit. 

“After all these years of looking for you,” You heard your uncle say. “You came straight to the mouse trap,” He added as he stood up—walking towards you.

“Sir, we found them!” But not long after the chase, Seungmin, Minho, and Jeongin were brought into the room and were forced to kneel beside the rest of the Wolves. Grunts were heard from them and after that, they were quiet, but their faces were saying that they were not happy with the setup. 

“Ahh, the rest of the orphans are here!” 

Motherfucker. 

“Your parents had a great legacy, too bad it was cut short because of the incident 20 years ago,” Mr. Jung laughed. “It didn’t hurt when my father chose my brother to be the Godfather when I’m capable of doing the business. Money was tight but cheers to the black market and soon, your properties and businesses,” 

“I’m not giving them to you!” You argued as he sighed in response while shaking his head. 

“I know you would say that,” He answered. “But let me make you a deal, each time you refuse, one of them dies,” He added, pointing to the brothers. “Who was it Wooyoung? Hyunjin is it?” 

“Yes, her boyfriend,” Wooyoung answered. 

“Ahh, you thought we didn’t know what happened,” Mr. Jung said. “I have someone who has access to the mansion and Chan’s private island. You thought you killed everyone from the party a month ago?” 

It was probably one of the guards. Sigh… come on, think Y/n, think. 

“Kill him,” You said, making everyone jump into surprise. 

“Are you nuts, Y/n?!” Seungmin exclaimed. 

“Shut up, Kim!” Wooyoung scolded. 

“If plan A won’t work, we have a plan B,” Hyunjin said the night before as you two sat on the floor with the documents Seungmin left you to study. 

“Obey them,” You answered. 

“Yes,” He answered. “My brothers and I have secret pockets in our sleeves so we can still use small weapons if we struggle—they will take you from us for sure and if we get captured, buy their time. We know how to act,” 

“Hold it,” Mr. Jung said, raising his hand. “What are you playing at?” He added, looking at you. 

“You said that every time I refuse to give you rights to my parents’ properties, you’d kill one of them, which I am. I won’t give it,” You smiled at him. 

Meanwhile, Hyunjin was playing with his zippo trying to get loose from the rope being tied around his wrists—slowly making a small flame. Minho was able to slip his pocket knife inside his sleeve and did the same—cutting the rope slowly for anyone not to notice his movements. 

“You killed my parents so I’m sure killing my boyfriend won’t make any difference. Shoot him,” You said, leaning closer to your uncle’s face—gritting your teeth at him. 

Your uncle raised a brow and seemed like finally getting the actual bait as he signaled Wooyoung to pull the trigger when Hyunjin was quick enough to dodge it—sweeping him off of his feet by swinging his legs to his ankles. The shot was fired at his bodyguard making the Wolves free from the knots, taking their guns out as they formed a circle—backs against each other. Unfortunately, the man didn’t even bother letting you go, instead, a gun is already at the side of your head. 

Wooyoung got up wincing from the pain in his shoulder after he fell. It was embarrassing. He picked up his gun and pointed it at Hyunjin again. 

“If you think you’re so clever to make them out of the ropes, you’re wrong, girl,” Your uncle said. “Any last words before I kill you?” He asked as he signaled the man to hold you tighter—your left hand managed to snake inside your dress as you hid the gun behind your back before firing the man’s feet making him push you away. After that, you shot your uncle in his chest before he could even react. 

Good thing your gun was hidden inside your dress, assisted with a leather garter on your leg. 

The Wolves started firing those men as Wooyoung ran away, his mom didn’t even make it out alive. 

Gunshots were exchanged, as Felix got behind your back, firing. 

“Hyunjin, get Wooyoung!” You heard Chan say, “We’ll cover you!” Hyunjin immediately fled from the room as he chased Wooyoung out of the basement, and back to the main hall. 

“You need to follow Hyunjin,” Felix said. 

“What about you guys?” You asked, aiming the gun at whoever tried to come closer. Bodies were already on the floor, some had the guts to hide and dodge the bullets from the Wolves. 

“We can manage, just go!” Felix commanded, making you exhale harshly, and left the room—running back upstairs, barefooted. You saw a man lying down on the floor before you could reach the top and grabbed his gun, checking if there were bullets left. 

“4 bullets?” You sighed as you checked yours too. “4, okay. 8 bullets will be enough,” 

The coast was clear when you got back up to the main hall. It was a mess, tables and chairs had been turned, holes in the walls and fabrics from the bullets, some of the lanterns were broken, even the huge banner. No one was there except you and you’re worried about where Wooyoung has been leading Hyunjin to. It won’t be the basement of course. 

Could it be at the parking lot? 

Lifting your dress, you ran outside to the parking lot not minding how painful it is to rush out of the venue without your heels—but they’ll slow you down if you haven’t got them removed. And you’re right, Wooyoung and Hyunjin were still there, holding each other’s gunpoint. You hid by one of those parked cars and slowly took your way closer to where they were. 

“It’s dumb how it took you 20 years to find her,” Hyunjin said. 

“They did,” Wooyoung answered. “But we needed a motive to kill her. Not just her being the first in line,” 

“She didn’t know anything until we told her!” Hyunjin argued. 

“You put the idea inside her stupid little brain,” Wooyoung said. “She was easy to kill before then,” 

“She will never give it to you,” Hyunjin answered with his arm firm enough to shoot him. You were able to sneak a few meters behind Wooyoung. Hyunjin pretended not to see you as he kept buying your cousin’s time. “Your father’s dead! She shot him,” 

“You Wolves killed my mother too,” Wooyoung retorted. 

“Your parents made us orphans. All of us!” Hyunjin said. “You don’t deserve the Godfather’s empire. It was built for a good cause and that’s not for you to make dirty. How does it feel to be alone now?” Hyunjin asked, cocking his head with a sly smirk on his face as you pointed the gun at your cousin’s head—shaking from anger. 

“You deserve to die,” Wooyoung said, clenching his jaw, and was about to pull the trigger to aim at Hyunjin’s head when a loud gunshot was heard, making him kneel on the ground—collapsing a few seconds later. 

Your pistol was hot as white smoke escalated from the hole. Hyunjin immediately moved away in case he got hit before you ran up to him—embracing him tightly. 

It’s over. 

The rest of the Wolves came to the parking lot after hearing the gunshot only to find you hugging Hyunjin. 

It’s over—it’s finally over. 

“Are you okay?” You asked—looking at him as you examined his face. “You didn’t get hit right?” 

“I’m good,” He said, hugging you again. “You must be terrified,” 

“No… but, I can’t believe I shot them,” You sniffed, burying your face against his chest. 

“Baby, you did good, okay? They’re bad people,” He answered, caressing your back—kissing you on the forehead. “Let’s go home, you must be exhausted,” 

“Are you guys okay?” Minho asked out of worry as you turned around to look at them. Felix seemed to be injured as he was assisted by Han and Seungmin. 

“What happened?” You asked, hurriedly approaching the three of them. 

“He got shot on his leg,” Seungmin sighed. 

“God,” You cried, hugging Felix tightly which made the man chuckle in response. “I’m sorry,” 

“Y/n, I’m fine,” He reassured, patting your back while painting a smile on his face.  

“Yeah, she’s fine, we’re fine,” Hyunjin answered Minho. 

“He’s dead?” Chan asked, pointing at Wooyoung’s body. 

“Y/n shot him,” Hyunjin answered. “And the rest?” 

“No one survived,” Changbin said. 

Everyone felt relieved that night except Felix who struggled to walk because of his injured leg. Minho carried him like a bride as the younger one winced in pain as they left for the car. You were tailing them as Seungmin noticed your dress got ripped and you were barefooted. 

“You’re a mess, girl,” Seungmin said, making you shrug in response—mascara being smudged. 

“I wasn’t expecting to be like this but thank you for noticing,” You chuckled, reaching out your arm as Seungmin smiled, letting you wrap your arm around his broad shoulders although he’s a bit taller than you. 

“Let’s go home, we still have a business to discuss,” You heard Chan say but Hyunjin begged to differ. 

“Hyung, can’t Y/n just rest for tonight?” He said but Chan’s eyes landed on the two of you and said; “Are you tired, Y/n?” 

“No,” You shake your head. “Let’s talk about the ownership,” You added, letting go of Seungmin— walking towards Hyunjin’s car making Chan smirk at him. 

“You heard your girl, lover boy,” 

“You got a fighter,” Changbin said, making a fist bump with Hyunjin making him cocky. 

“Noona stole my gun,” Jeongin sulked as he got inside Chan’s car. 

“You have a wall of guns in your room, a pistol is not that big of a deal,” Chan answered, making the youngest sigh in defeat. 

You all went home after that and let the cops get to the venue a few minutes after you left. The news was all over the place and all of Korea was watching. No names were dropped except from the Jungs who died. There will be no problems now—unless there will be another list of names to shoot. 

Meanwhile, everyone was inside Felix’s room as Minho was treating him—the man got a master’s degree in medicine. Unpredictable. 

“He’ll be sent to a hospital, I already called an ambulance,” He said. 

“Are you good, bro?” Han asked Felix who was obviously in pain. 

“Do you think I’m good, Han?” Felix hissed at him, making everyone laugh.

“Now, Y/n, time for your decision,” Chan suddenly butted in as he signaled Seungmin to hand over the documents you need to sign for transferring your names to the ownership. “You can leave this all behind and let us handle everything or you want to continue your parents’ business and be our partner,” He smiled for the first time. 

And without hesitation, you signed it. 

“The latter, Chan, I will work with you,” You smiled at him—reaching out a hand for a shake. The boys didn’t have the time to react that they were happy with your decision. Especially Hyunjin. 

“Wise choice,” Chan said, shaking your hand. “We’ll contact Mr. Park tomorrow so we can schedule a meeting, alright?” 

“Welcome to the family, Y/n!” Seungmin said, hugging you tightly. 

Family. 

You finally have a family. 

Hyunjin cleared his throat as Seungmin rolled his eyes, letting you go out of the hug. 

“She’s going to be my sister-in-law, anyway Hyunjin,” Seungmin said. 

“Shoo,” Hyunjin said as he pulled you closer to him. 

The rest of the evening was not a surprise anymore. Felix was sent to the hospital with Minho and Chan with him, while the rest of the Wolves were ordered to stay and rest. You found yourself on the rooftop wearing your pajamas. Sitting there alone as the cold breeze of the wind dries your hair feels so calm. It was a very long day and a very long night—you’re glad it’s over but you knew you still have a lot to do starting tomorrow. A meeting, negotiations and maybe getting a new job. 

Your life changed in the blink of an eye. 

The heavens finally gave it to you and it is more than you could ask for. 

A man who suddenly showed up and became the love of your life, a profession that would put a lot of things on the table, and the most valuable, a family. You’re not lonely anymore. 

Although there is still one thing to be finalized… 

“Love?” You heard Hyunjin’s voice as he walked upstairs to the rooftop. “I thought you were with Seungmin for notarization,” 

“No, he said we can do that tomorrow,” You smiled. “Sit here, we have to talk,” You added, patting the empty space beside you. Hyunjin sat down immediately as he took your hand, kissing it before he placed it on his cheek to feel your warmth.  

“Is this about us?” He asked. 

“Do we still need to slow down?” You asked him as he smiled gently, placing a soft kiss on your lips. 

“No,” He said. “You’re officially mine now,” 

“Can I say it?” You asked him as your foreheads rested against each other, Hyunjin was confused. 

“What is it?” He asked, tilting his head to the side like a curious puppy but you think he’s more of a weasel. It took you a few seconds before answering as you made sure that the eye contact was still there with your hands placed on his cheeks. He was waiting. 

“I love you,” But instead of answering, Hyunjin pulled you to sit on his lap, crashing his lips onto yours—bodies pressed together as you hugged him around his neck with his arms around your waist. 

“I love you more,” He answered it between, breathing heavily as your lips collided against each other. 

Your heart’s racing again and so does he. 

It’s one heck of the night after all but, he is the best part of it. 

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[hyunskizz]

231117 Soundwave Fansign - Hyunjin 🐾 | ©️ Aceforhj

[hyunskizz]

This man will be responsible for my untimely demise.

[hyunskizz]

240417 Instagram Live ♡

[hyunskizz]

FOR REAL I WAS ABOUT TO NAP AND I HAD A FUCKED UP MORNING BUT HWANG HYUNJIN YOU. OH MY GOD.

[hyunskizz]

#BRO RESPECTFULLY WHAT THE FUCK???!!

[hyunskizz]

(>.<)

[hyunskizz]

Busan again...!!

#the closest I'll ever be to skz lol despite them being rn in japan

[hyunskizz]

a murmuration of starlings | a lullaby on his throat chapter three

pairing: demigod!hyunjin x afab reader | wordcount: 19.9k | genre: mythology au, romance, smut | warnings: mentions of past breakups ; complicated feelings ; fluff/angst/comfort ; mild themes of jealousy ; explicit sexual content. View all compiled warnings here (+nsfw warnings). This work is for adult audiences only. > view a guide to Lullaby's mythology here.

To one, love could be like a murmuration of starlings and to the other it was the sharpest of blades. One was not better than the other—nobody could condemn a desperate person who chose the blade if the knife loved them back.

Arthur Calverley lived alone in his house which was located in a port city—the house served also as his art studio since he could not afford to pay rent for two separate spaces. It did not matter though. He lived for art and Arthur did not mind living among it too.

His life was no more than a series of little routines. He woke up each morning and fixed himself some breakfast which he ate with two cups of strong tea. He didn’t like to paint in the morning so he usually went for a stroll by the docks for a little session of people-watching and to breathe some fresh air too. Once in a while he would purchase a light meal and eat on his own, with a beer on the side to chase the salt and the sea flavors down his throat. 

If he needed to buy paint, he would do so before returning home. He trusted only one man to sell him good-quality supplies, and while Arthur did not really like to make conversation, he didn’t mind staying over at Taylor’s for a little while, chatting about art, yes, but about other things as well. Life, the economy, the weather. He was known for his paintings but he was not rich from them—they were adequate, sure, but no more. 

Still, he painted.

It was his everlasting loneliness, perhaps, that made Arthur paint in grays and blues and dark greens. He painted forests and foggy seascapes. Sometimes he painted portraits, although he was not very good at them so he usually avoided including persons in his pieces. But if he chose to paint a market on a rainy day he simply painted faceless people. Who cared what they looked like anyway? Who cared about some strangers’ facial traits or even the color of their hair? 

His seascapes sold the most, so Arthur revisited the theme often just so he could make a living. There were years where he did not sell as many pieces as he would have hoped and he had to take on odd jobs here and there—sometimes, Taylor would bring him along on his trips when he went to scout for new pigments. 

This year was this sort of year. It rained every day, it seemed. Few people traveled—few people came to art galleries too. Arthur sometimes helped unload boats at the docks in exchange for a free meal and a few coins. He went home smelling like the sea and like despair, but it was at night that Arthur liked painting the most. Something about the lighting of his favorite oil lamp and a few candles scattered around the room just made him want to saturate canvases until the sun rose. 

Arthur Calverley lived alone in his house located in a port city and he liked it this way. But on two occasions he met strangers who captured his curiosity. 

The first one never gave him his name. Arthur met him as he was leaving the docks after a day of work there—there had been a big shipment of silk from the East and Arthur had been rewarded with a good pay at the end of it all. His body was tired and aching, so he walked unhurriedly towards his home, his gaze often turned to the sea. That had been when he had seen him, the stranger. Long, brown hair floating in the soft breeze, standing with his two bare feet in the sea. He was staring at the setting sun wearing no more than trousers and a basic blouse—Arthur had quickly worried that this man would catch a fever if he stayed out there in this weather. 

The stranger never gave him his name but he was stunningly beautiful. His big, strangely-colored eyes fell upon Arthur like a blessing. He was tall and lean, his body both elegant and a little gauche but it was difficult to describe how, with words anyway. If Arthur had been good at portraits, he might have been able to convey it this way, but even then, he wasn’t sure that even the most skilled painters would ever be able to capture his beauty. Every movement was graceful and confident and noncommittal. “Where are your shoes, sir?” Arthur had asked him. “What are you doing out here in the cold?” 

The stranger had full lips of the same color as a muted sunset. “Just looking at the sea,” the stranger had said. From up close, he was even more beautiful, and the air surrounding him smelled like the earth, like rain, like a sunset. 

Arthur had asked if he had come on a boat. The stranger had given him a nod—it made sense that the beautiful man came from the same place as the silk had. His hair looked smooth, smoother than the silk in those crates Arthur had moved around all day, and the same could be said about his skin. 

“Do you have somewhere to go, sir?” 

A slight shake of the head. “I’ll just stay here.” The stranger had offered Arthur a faint smile. “Just looking at the sky. And the sea. Have a nice night, sir.” 

But Arthur did not have a nice night. In fact, he could not sleep, not even after a couple of glasses of the cheap gin he kept. That night, he put his clothes back on and returned to the exact spot where he had seen the stranger, but nobody was there. Arthur never forgot the man’s eyes and his lips. His thoughts often wandered back to him when his cock was in his hand. He liked the way it felt when he touched himself imagining it was the stranger’s plush lips hugging his length instead of his own fingers. 

Arthur Calverley met the beautiful stranger again eight months later exactly. It was the beginning of fall and the wind was crisp as he made his way to his favorite inn. It was his favorite because it was never crowded and the beer was decent. He had sold two paintings this past month and he wanted to celebrate. To Arthur, celebrating was to sit in a quiet corner of this inn, drinking beer and enjoying the feeling of having a few coins in his pockets.

His parents lived in London and he had not seen them since the age of 16 when his mother caught him and his best friend kissing behind the house. Just a kiss, no tongue even. But his mother had told Arthur that it was wrong. That he should marry a woman and that he shouldn’t kiss boys. Arthur didn’t really like to have company and the idea of marrying—a girl especially—filled him with dread anyway. So he had gone away, and now he was painting his sorrow onto canvases. It wasn’t much, but he had to keep going, didn’t he?

Arthur was two beers into the night when he saw him. The beautiful stranger from the beach. He wore nice clothes tonight—black slacks and a jacket. He had elegant shoes, and he still carried this unusual but enticing scent with him. He crossed the inn, dodging a serving girl and two men who looked like they were about to brawl and sat on the unoccupied chair across Arthur, sliding a glass containing an amber liquid in front of him.

“We meet again,” the stranger said. He had a strange intonation to his voice, but not unpleasant. It reminded Arthur of intricate music. “How have you been?”

Arthur could not believe it. “I—huh—” It took the painter a few instants to gather his thoughts. “You really remember me, sir?” 

The handsome man chuckled, taking a sip from his own drink, leaving his lips wet with whiskey, shimmering under the flames from the lamps. “Of course I remember you. You were concerned for me.” He motioned toward the glass he had brought for Arthur. “For your kindness.”

He raised his glass at Arthur and drank more. Arthur mirrored him and the taste of the liquor shocked him. It was the absolute best whiskey he had ever drank. It tasted smoky and sweet—it was obviously very expensive. Clearly, this handsome man was not homeless. “No need to thank me,” he assured. “You appeared… lost. I even returned to check on you during the night,” Arthur recalled with a self-deprecating smile. “Couldn’t sleep knowing that a barefoot man was spending the night outside.” 

The stranger offered him a smile that made Arthur’s heart flutter. It did not matter that his mother had cursed him for kissing his friend. Nothing could change that about Arthur—some men gave him butterflies in his stomach. 

“I was lost,” the other admitted. He paused there, swirling his glass and watching the whiskey inside of it. Arthur let him, using that opportunity to observe him better. His soft brown locks falling on either side of his perfect face, the curves of his nose, the shape of his lips. “But isn’t that what people do here? Feel lost? And feel compelled to find themselves again?”

It was obviously a rhetorical question and yet it left Arthur wondering. What did he mean by here? This tavern, this city, or perhaps this country? Arthur had never traveled across the sea, but a part of him believed that the precarity of the human mind transcended continents. That even if this beautiful stranger had come on a boat from a distant land, he would understand such sentiments.

Or perhaps not. Maybe he had never known this sort of dejection before. Maybe the stranger was the son of a powerful king and he had fled his home in disgrace. Or maybe he was the head of a rich family and had left them, having lost himself among them. Maybe he was looking for something here, he just didn’t know what yet.

It felt nosy to ask. Arthur cleared his throat, taking a deep breath. “Those are wise words, sir. It seems to me like you’re not quite sure of your place in this world.” 

The beautiful man laid his eyes on Arthur again, causing him to blush violently. It seemed as though his gaze pierced right through him, but not painfully—it felt more like a kiss than a blade. “I must admit you’re right.” Then, “Please don’t call me sir.” But he did not give him a name to call him with. “Do you know your place in your world?” 

Arthur shrugged. “Yes and no. I don’t think there is a definitive place for anyone. To most, my life is insignificant, and they would be right to say so.” The man was listening to him, drinking his every word. Arthur was normally shy and did not like to talk to people, especially not strangers, but he found it easy to speak to the inhumanly pretty man. “I wake up, I go for a walk. Sometimes I do a little work on the docks in exchange for a meal and to pay for the oil in my lamp. I like to paint in the warm light of it.”

The stranger raised his perfect, thick eyebrow. “You paint? You’re an artist?” 

“I paint. I paint seascapes and stuff. It’s not enough to make a living out of it, so I don’t think I count as an artist. When I die, no one will remember me. I’m not like those people whose paintings are in London, or Paris, or Firenze.” 

“But you paint,” he insisted. “Would it be rude to ask to see your work? I will pay for it, just like I would pay to enter any art gallery or museum.” 

Arthur found that request equally endearing and scandalous, and yet he would have done just about anything just to stay in the presence of this man a few minutes longer. He accepted—they both hurried to finish their drinks and left the tavern. 

The night was cool. They walked in silence for a while, until the stranger raised his arm to point at a vague spot on the beach. “This is where you found me.” 

“That would be there, yes.” Arthur watched as the man’s arm fell back, as elegantly as a ballet dancer’s would. He found nothing else to say, or rather, the lump in his throat prevented him from speaking with ease. It was one thing to be with him in a public space, and another to be alone with him, in his house…

The stranger remained by the door while Arthur went around the living room to light up a few candles and a lamp. “I—huh—I’ve been working around the docks a lot, I reckon the smell must linger in here…”

“Don’t worry.” The stranger smiled again. In this light, he was even more beautiful. “I’ve spent a long time in a small village with very little company except for fishermen. The smell of the sea does not bother me.” 

Arthur received this piece of information like one would hear a prayer. Arthur’s parents used to drag him and his siblings to church every Sunday, and he hated it. He just did not understand devotion to an invisible, hypothetical entity. But tonight, he felt truly privileged to be gifted a piece of the stranger’s past. “A village?” Arthur knew a few fishing villages not too far away. He had a cousin there. “Where?”

“An island. A long way from here,” was all the man responded, and Arthur respected his privacy. 

Carrying the lamp with him, he showed him the way to the studio. He only had three paintings there, lacking money even to buy supplies. There was also something rather disheartening in painting just to see the canvases piled up here, unwanted. Only two paintings were completed—the third remained unfinished, although it was almost done. 

The man looked at the art for a long time in complete silence, taking the lamp from him to look very closely. Arthur let him—he was used to his paintings being studied like that. Sometimes it was out of genuine interest, but most of the time, rich people just liked to pretend they knew anything about art, so they looked at his paintings for a while, angling their heads in different ways, humming inaudibly. They’d make up something to say, using words they had heard before, and either buy the painting or not. 

“You have a lot of talent,” the man commented, moving to the canvas that was still on the easel, waiting for its final coat of paint. “How does it make you feel? Painting?”

What an odd question. Arthur was used to how long have you been painting or how much do you make selling those—definitely not questions like that one. Again, the stranger’s words made their way through his flesh, settling in his heart and releasing a diffuse warmth within him.

Arthur weighed his words carefully. It seemed to him that this man needed to hear this answer. It seemed like he was asking Arthur a question but that the answer would reveal something about himself. He didn’t want to mess it up. 

And yet, the answer was easy. “Alive. It makes me feel alive when I paint. I have nothing else.” 

The man nodded slowly. He was very close to him now, his scent tickling Arthur’s nose. “I can see that,” he murmured, turning to Arthur after leaving the lamp on a table, scanning him. His eyes, his hair, his lips. Arthur was looking at his, too. “You paint from your soul.” 

Nobody had ever said something like this to him, not even the owners of the art galleries at which he exhibited his pieces once in a while. Not even the people buying the pieces. No one. Tears welled up in Arthur’s eyes as the warmth in his chest spread to the back of his neck and his face. Ashamed, he went to look away, but the stranger didn’t let him—gently, he pressed two fingers on Arthur’s cheek, forcing him to hold his gaze. 

“You talked about those artists in those places. London, Paris… Why aren’t you there, too?” he questioned with a slight frown. “It’s where you want to be, isn’t it?”

Arthur could feel himself melt. The fingers were still on his face, spreading fire all over him. “It’s where the masterpieces are. Those are just paintings.” 

The man tilted his head ever so slightly. “On whose authority? Who decides what is a masterpiece and what isn’t?” He brought another hand to Arthur’s face, cupping his cheek. His skin was smooth and warm. 

“History. Only time, and history, and legacy will tell.” Arthur had always been prepared to be forgotten—he knew that his art would never be shown in Paris, that it would never matter. But he painted because it was all that he could do. It was all that he had, all that he was.

A nod. “Two landscapes and a seascape,” the stranger went on, “but not one bit of blue sky, not one ray of sunshine, none of its warmth.” The words did not sound like an accusation or a complaint. If anything, they were spoken just like praise would have been. “And yet, so much beauty. Do you really think that things can be beautiful in the shade too?” 

There were tears in the stranger’s eyes, much like they filled Arthur’s. “Yes, absolutely I do.” He thought about it for a minute, sensing that this was very important for this man. “I like the way the waves look under the sun, when they sparkle. But it can be blinding if you look for too long—dizzying even. I find that the sea is most pleasant to watch just a few moments before sunrise, when the sky isn’t quite blue yet, when the light doesn’t reach us directly.” 

The stranger gulped, pulling Arthur closer to him. His breath smelled like sweet apples and whiskey. 

And he kissed him. And Arthur kissed him back. He was a little drunk from the beers and the liquor, but he wouldn’t have resisted him even completely sober. It had been an eternity since he had been touched, since he had been felt. The stranger’s mouth was warm and wet, and yet his kisses were slow and methodical. They did not gain in speed, but they became deeper, warmer. Clothes sticking to bodies, hands traveling all over, pulling each other closer. A jacket being pulled off, another. A shoe. Buttons being undone. 

It was dark in Arthur’s bedroom and part of him wanted to ask him to wait just a moment while he lit a candle just so he could see him. But it could not wait, so he felt him under his fingers while the stranger kissed his neck. His body felt beautiful. In that moment, Arthur wished he had not been a painter but a sculptor—he would spend eternity trying to recreate this body, chiseling marble and wood and ice if he must. 

This is what happened that night—they kissed for a long time, and the stranger took Arthur’s hard cock in his warm mouth, sucking him off as gently as he had kissed him. He regularly came to a stop to collect precum and swallow it, although sometimes he would just smear it with his spit all over his cock. They did not say a word, but Arthur pulled him back up for a kiss and took the stranger’s cock in his hand while chasing his own taste in his mouth. 

The stranger fucked his hand in deep, slow thrusts, the tip of his long cock hitting Arthur’s thigh, sending sparks of intense pleasure through his core and his spine. 

They kissed and they kissed and they kissed, rubbing onto one another. When the stranger returned between Arthur’s legs, he released a large amount of spit onto his hand, smearing his cock with it, but letting his fingers continue their journey to his ass. This is how Arthur came—his tip hitting the stranger’s throat as he fingered him. He had been with men before but it had never been this good. He came a lot and the stranger took his load, swallowing it in the dark, making sure to leave kisses on Arthur’s spent cock after. Let me, he said. He wanted to taste his cum too.

The stranger fucked Arthur’s mouth deeply, in short, shallow thrusts. He was big enough that Arthur struggled for air but it made him feel alive, and the stranger’s moans were as pretty as him. He came soon, flooding his throat with sweet-tasting cum, keeping Arthur’s head in place with a fist in his hair. It was the happiest Arthur had been in a long time, maybe ever. 

The stranger kissed him again, but Arthur was suddenly very sleepy. They lay in his bed, and he wanted to hold the beautiful man, but he fell asleep before he could.

When Arthur woke up, he was gone. The sky was gray in the small window of his bedroom. He found his clothes neatly placed on the empty side of the bed, with a generous amount of money next to it. Arthur felt like a different man then, like the warmth that was in his chest last night was still there. Like it would never leave. 

Years went by. Arthur never forgot the nameless stranger, or the taste of his cum, or the feeling of him. He painted whenever he could, no matter how few paintings he sold. It was the closest it felt to being kissed and desired and devoured. He worked a lot on the docks and even in the town. His body grew tired—too tired for a young man his age—but Arthur kept going.

One day, the tiredness became unbearable, perhaps because of the strange sensation in his chest, like something was tugging at his heart. He was unable to even finish his work that day and went home even though it meant he wouldn’t get paid today. In fact, he barely made it home, walking under the scorching July sun, lightheaded, barely conscious. When finally Arthur reached his house, he removed his clothes, dirty from work, and collapsed onto his bed. 

And he dreamt of light. 

Arthur had never had a dream like this, a dream where it felt more like being awake than asleep. A dream that felt truer, more authentic than his daily life. 

Yet, Arthur knew he was in a dream because his chest no longer hurt him, because he was in a place that couldn’t have existed, because a man made of light was standing some distance away from him.

He was in a meadow. It was dusk, and the color of the sky was so delicate that it kept Arthur’s attention for a few seconds—a lilac softer than silk, yet mysteriously dark. The tall grass caressed his ankles, swayed by a warm breeze.

The man walked slowly toward Arthur. It was at that moment that he realized that he was just as naked as when he fell asleep. He waited for panic and shame to hit him but they never did. He only felt peace. 

He only felt the light. It came from him, from the beautiful man with the pale hair. It was neither blond or white, it was as though it was made of the same material as the sun. Arthur had only seen one person as beautiful as him before—the nameless stranger. 

“Hello, love.” The man spoke with a deep voice that resonated in Arthur’s body like an earthquake. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Waiting for him?... 

The man was closer now, standing right before him. Arthur squinted, blinded by the light, fascinated with the man’s eyes. Their color changed every millisecond it seemed—some colors that Arthur had never seen before, that he could only dream of blending with his oils. Just below them were constellations, real constellations, not freckles. They twinkled like real stars, golden and silver and red and periwinkle and deep red. 

“Come and show me.” The man offered him his hand and Arthur took it. He felt safe here, he felt as though no harm could ever come his way. 

“Show you what?” he asked, looking around. The field was surrounded by a beautiful, lush forest, but there was a large cypress beyond the treeline, within the confines of the clearing. Arthur had never seen a tree like that. 

“Everything, Arthur. Come.” He was guiding him toward the cypress so Arthur simply followed him. His hand was small in his, like his feet, but he regularly looked behind him as though to check on Arthur. Every time, his heart-shaped lips turned into a smile. 

When they made it to the tree, the man let him go. Arthur found himself missing the contact of his skin with his, craving the peculiar heat that emanated from him. 

The man took his other hand. Arthur had never believed in much in his life, but he thought that this man was an angel. He thought that the other man had also been an angel visiting him. He had fucked his throat and fingered his ass and made him feel whole for an instant.

This one, however, gave him his name. “I’m Felix,” he said. When he said it though, it sounded more like Felixx, or Felixs, with a weird emphasis on the last syllable. It was pretty in his mouth though. “I need your help.” 

“My help?” Nobody had ever needed Arthur for anything in his life, certainly not a being like this. He emanated strength and peace, something powerful. 

“You met someone some time ago,” the man said, walking backwards, stopping only when his back hit the tree. “A man.”

Arthur knew immediately. “Yes. Do you know him?” 

“We loved each other on these grounds,” the angel explained. “Come and kiss me.” 

There was not a molecule in Arthur’s body that wanted to resist the beautiful angel, so he kissed him. Felix wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him closer and closer, devouring his mouth. His tongue was hot and kissing him felt like drinking a cup of scalding hot tea, but sweeter. “You have some of his taste on you. Did he tell you something? Hyathos?”

Hyathos. The beautiful man’s name, surely—Arthur thought it fit him. He kissed Felix again, nibbling at his pretty lips, hungry for more. As though he was running out of time even though time seemed insignificant here. There was only the warm breeze, there was only the light in Felix’s hair and the dusky sky and the forest. Nothing else existed, nothing else mattered. 

Arthur thought about it for some time. “We didn’t talk a lot, but he asked about my paintings.” 

Felix nodded, pulling away from Arthur’s face so that he could look him in the eyes. Gently, he caressed his temple, his hair, his lips. Time was insignificant here but it was also fleeting. It was everything. It was nothing. Arthur knew he was dreaming because nothing here made sense. 

“Your paintings,” Felix echoed, his hand traveling to Arthur’s neck, his shoulder, his waist. His cock. “What was he looking for?” 

Arthur felt a familiar and pleasant rush between his legs as Felix rubbed his hardening length. He was hard too—Arthur could see the tented bulge in his tunic. He felt no timidity, had no problem stealing yet another kiss from Felix, did not hesitate to roll his hips to fuck his hand a little. Arthur had been tired for a while, sometimes even too tired to get himself off. He felt nothing of the sort here. He just felt the soft grass beneath his feet, and Felix’s warm hand. 

“Shade,” Arthur revealed between lewd, wet kisses. “I think he was looking for beauty in it.”

Felix tugged at his cock, eliciting a few moans from Arthur, causing him to lose control. He had never wanted anything as much as he wanted Felix. He pulled his tunic to reveal his cock, reveling in the sight of it—it was pretty and smooth, perfect in every way. It was hard, so hard. 

Arthur took Felix in his hand too, squeezing his length until his breathing became labored, until Felix fucked his hand too. “I have a favor to ask, Arthur,” he managed, his face buried in his neck. 

“Anything.” Arthur let himself fall on his knees, coming face to face with Felix’s pretty cock. He wondered if he would go to hell for this. He wondered if he would go to hell for fucking not one, but two angels. “Anything you want, Felix.” He opened his mouth and took Felix’s tip between his lips, tasting him. He tasted like light, like an afternoon, like his demise. 

“If I give you a message, can you give it to him? To Hyathos?” 

Maybe angels couldn’t communicate together. Maybe they were estranged from one another, Arthur didn’t know. All that he knew was that he would do anything that Felix asked of him, because what else was he going to do? 

Arthur looked up. He gave Felix’s cock sweet kisses. “Yes, yes.” He didn’t know if he would ever see him again—Hyathos. He hadn’t seen him in years. “What is it? What’s the message?” 

There were no words for it, it seemed. Arthur knew he was dreaming because Felix gave him the message with his body, kissing him all over, caressing every part of him. He fucked him too, Arthur laying in the grass and Felix over him. He fucked him for an hour, a week, an entire lifetime, whispering things to his ear, things in a language that Arthur did not know. Felix was fucking him in quick, deep thrusts, groaning, sometimes tugging at Arthur’s cock, sometimes kissing his shoulder. He came deep inside him, filling his ass, and nothing had ever felt as good as that. He made Arthur cum. He made him watch his seed spurt into the grass beneath them, his cock still inside him, his cum running down all over Arthur’s ass and thighs, sticking to the blades of grass on which they lay. 

And then Arthur woke up. It took him several seconds to understand that he was not under the cypress tree, that he was not with Felix. He sat on his bed, shaking, feverish. The ache in his chest had returned. He was painfully alive, painfully mortal. There were a lot of cum stains on his sheets and his body was covered in sweat.

And yet he carried something within him. Something that transcended all of this.

Arthur got up. He lit up candles and his favorite lamp. Naked, he stood at his easel. He had already prepared a canvas, planning to paint a misty river landscape when he could. But the plans had changed. Everything had changed.

Arthur had never painted light before.

But that night, he did.

For days and nights and days, Arthur painted. He was not hungry. He was not thirsty, although sometimes his mouth felt dry, which compelled him to wet his lips a little. He painted, following Felix’s instructions perfectly despite the fact that he gave them in a strange language. Arthur did not sleep and did not leave the easel until three days later when he ran out of paint. 

He hastily put on some clothes and made his way to Taylor’s. The merchant seemed surprised to see him in such a state and questioned him. “Are you alright there, friend?” 

“Just fine. Need paint.” Arthur was used to the store and had access to anything he wanted, so he just went around the corner and grabbed whatever he needed. 

“What are you painting these days then?”

Arthur didn’t feel like talking and yet the secret was too heavy on his mind not to say anything. It felt as though he knew he had to say something. “I had a strange dream. It… inspired me. I’ll call it The Cypress Tree. You’ll see, Taylor. I never painted anything like this before.” 

Taylor did not ask any questions and just let Arthur leave with the paint. 

It took him another five days to finish the painting. Arthur had never painted light before, he had never learned how to do it, but it came naturally, as though his soul had learned how to speak it. As though light was a language that could be spoken in kisses, in strokes of a paint brush, in drops of cum being absorbed by the soil. 

Arthur painted his dream. Arthur painted exactly what Felix had asked him to. Arthur painted Felix’s apology to Hyathos. 

He signed the painting, and then the pain in his chest became searing until it was all that existed, until nothing at all existed.

It was Taylor who found his body the next day, collapsed on the floor of his art studio next to an easel on which rested Arthur’s last painting.

His masterpiece. 

“It’s alright darling, I’ve got you.” 

It was Hyunjin’s voice that finished waking you up—as soon as your eyes fluttered open, pain shot through your skull, making you recoil, forcing you to close them again. The migraine began somewhere at the back of your neck and ended somewhere in your jaw, yet you could feel it in your shoulders too, and your back. Your eyes were just as sore, with a lingering sting to them.

You had cried a lot. 

Just like a river forcing its way through a dam, last night came back to you all at once, in the span of a millisecond. It caused yet another stab of the migraine to attack your head. You closed your eyes harder, trying your best to evade the light behind your eyelids, diffuse and yellow and bright. Morning light, sometime after sunrise. 

You were in Hyunjin’s arms. He was holding you and carrying you gently and slowly in your apartment, toward what you assumed was your bedroom. He held you tighter when you became agitated, pressing you into the crook of his neck. You buried your face there, hiding from the light. 

As you remembered the previous night, panic grew within you. You tried to wiggle out of Hyunjin’s arms but he did not let you. He was strong, stronger than he looked, and you found that peculiar but it wasn’t even the weirdest thing that you had seen this week.

Yesterday was supposed to be just a day. You were supposed to drink wine, take a sleeping pill and put yourself into a light coma until some time had passed, until the warmth in your heart dissipated, until you no longer felt a thing for Hyunjin. Because it would kill you. It would kill you when he would leave, because he would leave. They all left. Yesterday was supposed to be just a day, and instead it had been a revelation.

When you spoke, your voice sounded foreign, like it had traveled long distances before floating in the air around you. “Hospital,” you managed. “I need to go to the hospital.”

Hyunjin’s response came immediately. “No, darling. You don’t. I’ve got you.” 

Yes. Yes you needed to go to the hospital. Something had happened last night, something you couldn’t explain even though there were very simple words to speak about it. 

Your day had started normally. You had decluttered your apartment a little. You had answered emails from students who needed counsel for their Master’s or PhDs. You answered more emails to colleagues from other museums. You drank wine. You had been visited by Hyunjin who was begging to be in your presence, who had made love to you. Nothing about that last part was normal, you didn’t think. You didn’t think it was normal that a man such as Hyunjin wanted you, and yet. He drank your words the same way he drank your pussy—passionately, like his life depended on it. 

You tried to forget. You tried to revoke your memories, to give them away, to force them out of your brain. 

Your day had started normally. Hyunjin had been here in the evening, and you drank and talked, and made love. He had left, and you had simply looked at your computer to pass the time, because you found yourself missing him when he wasn’t with you, even for just an instant. And it was frightening. You knew that it was all temporary, that it would kill you when Hyunjin left for good, but you couldn’t deny that you couldn’t resist it.

Yes. It was then that it had happened—reading emails, you had seen pictures of the new piece of the Casnea tablet that had been uncovered in the Mediterranean. 

Feliks lies beneath the cypress tree, alone. Sometimes he wants to take people there, but he never does. This is the place for him and for Hyathos only. Feliks knows that Hyathos doesn’t belong anywhere near the cypress tree. He never did, even if it felt good to be there. Hyathos belongs elsewhere, far away. Like some creatures or peculiar plants, he thrives in the shade.

Those words that you had read so effortlessly were engraved in your heart, your brain, your soul. They had become a part of you. You had spent all of your life not understanding the forgotten language, the language they deemed untranslatable. And yet, the moment you laid your eyes on the words, they had come to you as naturally as the language you had spoken her whole life. 

Hyunjin wasn’t taking you to your bedroom—he entered the bathroom and sat you on the counter by the sink, but you didn’t let go of him, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him closer. If you could become one with him, if you could somehow melt into his body, you would. 

“Let’s just splash water on your face,” Hyunjin said under his breath, whispering into your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin. “You cried a lot, darling.” 

Yes. Yes, you cried a lot. You knew the language of light. You knew it as though you had always known it, as though it was buried somewhere within you all of your life and something or someone had simply opened that gate, allowing you to access it. Your mind was spinning with memories of the other piece of the Casnea tablet, the very one you had seen in person after visiting a colleague during a trip out of the country. Your mind was spinning with the fragments of vases, with pieces of tombs, with engravings on caves and walls and mountains, all containing letters and words from this forgotten language.

The dead language that had suddenly come back to life in your mind, last night, as you just looked at the words. 

You had thought that you were crazy. That you were hallucinating. So you read, over and over, while Hyunjin was out. You read through the tears that you were crying, you read despite the violent tremors taking over your body. You couldn’t unsee. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t lose that understanding of the words, it seemed that they lingered to you the way the juice of a ripe peach makes one’s skin sticky and sweet. 

It couldn’t be true, could it? It couldn’t be the real language, the one that had been lost in time and history, that you were comprehending all of a sudden—that was, factually, impossible. Even less plausible was the fact that it wasn’t the one they called the language of the gods that had suddenly been woven into your brain, no—it was an even more obscure dialect. A dialect used so sparingly that it was believed only a few individuals, perhaps even exclusively royalty, spoke it. It was even less translatable than its root, but paradoxically, it was also believed to be the key to unlocking the language of the gods. For that reason, they named the dialect Cipherian.

And now you could read it. Hell, as images of the Casnea tablet appeared in your mind, sounds also emerged. Syllables and intonations. Syntax and phonology. Inflections—many of them, displaying intricate, poetic grammar. Colorful, complex semantics. If you wanted to, you could part open your lips and ask Hyunjin how he was doing in Cipherian. You could tell him about today’s weather in it, or ask him to fuck you. 

It couldn’t be true. Nobody, not even a genius, could do that. That just didn’t happen. It couldn’t. Nobody, not even a genius, could absorb a language in a matter of seconds.

Especially not a language that hundreds of linguists from all around the world had failed to crack for decades. 

You had to go to the hospital. You had to be put into the psych ward where they would give you Seroquel or something stronger and it would go back to normal. 

But Hyunjin did not let you. He kissed your ear and his mouth was warm. He smelled like your bodywash. You kept your eyes closed, letting the memory of the shower you shared with him last night wash over you, soothing some of the panic, if only a little. If it was all that you had—if the memory of Hyunjin, of his mouth on your neck or on your cunt, if the soreness between your legs like an echo of his cock was all that kept you from jumping from the balcony at this moment, then so be it. You would die anyway, you would die when he would leave, just like a shooting star disappearing in the night sky after displaying its light for half a second. 

So maybe it was okay if you let it last for a little longer. If you grasped at this, at him, at this invisible bond between the two of you. It was as though he had been within you the whole time, too, alongside those foreign words. He did not feel unfamiliar, he had never felt like a stranger to you, not even during that very first interaction with him at the museum. 

Hyunjin pulled himself away from you. You leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, your mind jumping from one thing to another. The new words, this new grammatical system that had made a home out of your mind, the strange feeling in your eyes from having cried too much. The heaviness in your chest that you couldn’t explain.

He took care of you. He placed a cool towel on your face and let some lukewarm water run on it, not minding the fact that it rolled down your neck and chest. He brushed the tangles out of your hair and helped you brush your teeth, which helped make your mouth feel less dry and pasty. He brought you to your bed, tucking you comfortably under your sheets, making sure the pillows were positioned perfectly under your head. 

You wanted to say, I just slept, I won’t fall asleep, but you felt tired. Exhausted. Like you had traveled around the world. “I’ll be right back, darling,” he whispered into your ear before disappearing. You heard noises coming from the kitchen. The kettle, cutlery, the fridge. 

You closed your eyes and it seemed like you could see it. The letters. The words. As they engraved themselves into your DNA. You felt more and more tired as your brain translated every single one of your memories. The first book you had read on your own at the age of four, about a little cat who did not want to eat dinner but wanted dessert. The kitten made several attempts at bypassing the plate before her, even going as far as drawing an empty plate to fool her father into thinking she’d eaten. Another book had come in later, this time it was about a little human girl and her mother at the grocery store. The mother was in a hurry and wanted to go through the express checkout lane—to do so, they needed to buy ten items or less. You remembered these books. They were still in your mother’s basement, in a box somewhere. But now you knew them from a different angle. You saw light coating the letters, the commas, you understood the spaces between the words. 

When Hyunjin came back, your eyes were closed again—your eyelids were too heavy to keep them open. He sat with you on the bed, pushing your hair out of your face. “You have to eat and drink,” he said.

But you weren’t hungry. You were just tired. “No, I—”

You felt something sweet touch your lips. The wedge of a peach. “Eat,” he insisted. 

You ate—two wedges total, but it was all that you could stomach without gagging. The juice of the fruit coated your lips, but you also drank a few sips of the sweet green tea Hyunjin had prepared for you. When he was satisfied, he laid you down again. “You can sleep now,” he whispered as if he knew. 

You slept. 

You slept for two days.

Hyunjin stayed by your side, only leaving your bedroom if absolutely necessary and never for long. Your slumber was often disturbed—you’d frown then or mumble something he couldn’t make out. You even gasped a few times, and then Hyunjin was certain that you would wake up, only, you didn’t.

He spent his Sunday there, sitting in your bedroom, watching you, watching the news, too, expecting something, anything. Expecting a new war to break out between two rival territories, expecting an earthquake, a monsoon, or a plague. He didn’t know what it would be but Hyunjin knew that some unfortunate—and deadly—event would occur sooner rather than later. Because everything in this life was about balance. It was in everything one ever laid their eyes upon, intrinsically so, but balance was not something that mortals controlled—it came from elsewhere. It came from the same place as he did.

Balance, equilibrium, harmony. Mortals would use those words to describe this phenomenon. But to gods, it was justice.

Hyunjin was aware of the terrible weight of Feliks’ gift to you. Something never seen before, something deeply significant. He knew that it was an affront and that retaliation would be gruesome. What Hyunjin didn’t know, though, was if Feliks would claim the offense or hide behind a veil of light, letting someone else take the blame for it.

Did they know? Did they know it was you who knew their tongue, or did they think it was somebody else, someone unimportant?

Hyunjin had no way of finding out before it was too late. Before justice had been carried out. Maybe it would take the shape of a catastrophic event. Or maybe, one day, Hyunjin would wake up to find you gone. Erased. Unmade.

So he stayed by your side, wiping your face with a lukewarm washcloth regularly, keeping your hair out of your eyes, making sure your pillows were comfortable underneath you. Once in a while, he would dampen the corner of a clean towel, not wringing it dry, and let you suckle on it in your sleep. After a few tries, however, Hyunjin found it was more efficient to use his thumb. When he became certain you were effectively absorbing the water, he added a sprinkle of salt to it as well as some honey, just so you would get a few nutrients.

He spoke to you. A lot. You didn’t seem to hear him, and the noise certainly didn’t wake you up. He knew you couldn’t hear him, not even in your sleep, because he was able to speak to you freely. About Feliks, about his father, his mother. He did not use their names but he did tell you about his mother’s garden, and the peculiar color of the sunsets there, which he liked to watch from the same spot always.

He had forgotten a lot. The transformation of his atoms into what he was now had altered his memory, and Hyunjin wanted so badly to know what you knew. He was ashamed to think that, but he was jealous. Jealous that you had entered the world of gods.

Jealous that Feliks had kissed you.

It drove him crazy. While you slept soundly, Hyunjin paced in your apartment, his mood jumping from yearning, to envious, to furious, to… something else. A craving, a tingling in his lower abdomen when he thought of your bare feet walking on the soil where he and Feliks had fallen in love. What did he tell you, exactly? Had he told you anything about him? Had he given you a peach?

Had he touched you? He had kissed his language into you, yes, but had he touched you? Had he pinned you to the cypress tree and taken your mouth like that? Had he laid you on the grass? Had he been straddling you? Had his pretty cock been hard and pressed against your cunt while his tongue traced words and grammar into your soul? Had he touched you? Felt you? Had Feliks felt your breasts with his hands?

Hyunjin was ashamed that such thoughts haunted him—even more so that they made his cock hard. It was unfair. He should have been there, too. He knew it was too dangerous and yet. He should have been there, fucking you softly while Feliks was buried to the hilt in your ass, your pretty moans filling the meadow and the lilac night. Then Hyunjin in your ass and Feliks fucking your cunt. Feliks kissing him as he chased his high, his hands secured around your waist. He should have been there, eating Feliks’ cum out of your pussy, swallowing you and him at once while he emptied his balls in Feliks’ throat.

The love he had for Feliks was distant. It belonged to another time, another place, and it no longer belonged in his heart. It made him angry that he had these thoughts, that they made him spit into his palm and stroke his straining cock. It made him sad, too, because Hyunjin’s heart belonged with yours now. Only yours. And he knew that to be true because when, finally, he twitched into his own hand, it was you who appeared in his confused thoughts. Just you, an entire universe away from the cypress tree. Just you, your legs around his waist, your voice in his ear, your pussy hugging him nicely. Hyunjin came so hard that a few specks of it landed on your coffee table, but he watched as he sprayed his thick, shimmering cum onto his stomach, wishing you would come and lick it.

It was the day after that he heard you tossing and turning while he was folding some of your laundry in the kitchen. He needed to keep himself busy while waiting for you to return to him or perhaps while he waited for the world to end.

Hyunjin ran to you, finding you as you were climbing out of bed, your back turned to him. Walking slowly, your limbs visibly numb, you made your way to the window, wasting no time pulling the curtains open.

Sunlight filled the room, violent, devastating, beautiful. You basked in it, your gaze fixated on the horizon above the buildings across the street. Your breathing was calm and steady—slowly, you turned to him, facing away from the window. Your uncombed yet supple hair framed your face which Hyunjin couldn’t describe as emotionless. Rather, it seemed like you experienced every possible human emotion at once.

If your eyes had been lost and hazy before your long sleep, they were the opposite now. You gave him an appraising look, focused, alert, aware. You reached for your head, feeling your face with your fingers as though you weren’t certain you were real. You caressed the gentle curves of your cheeks, your nose, your dry, cracked lips. Hyunjin had never seen a thing more beautiful than you. And he had seen many things.

“How long was I asleep?” you asked finally, taking a step toward him. “Is it today still?”

He closed up the space between you, pulling you into a tight embrace. It surprised you but you still wrapped your arms around his body, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “It’s Tuesday, darling,” he said, his voice soft and low. He caressed your hair gently, reveling in the feeling of your breath on his skin.

You pulled away from him in shock. “Tuesday?” A million thoughts crossed your mind at once—Hyunjin saw them all behind your eyes, scurrying, pricking at your synapses.

“Don’t worry, I called Minji, then I called the museum.” He pulled you back against him, his miracle. “I said you had the flu.” You signed, relieved, in his arms. “Your mom also called—I told her I was your assistant and that you were out for a work trip.”

You let out a soft snort and it healed him maybe. He did not let go of you, for Hyunjin knew what he would have to do sooner rather than later. “Thank you for lying on my behalf, honey.”

A comfortable silence grew between you, punctuated by the sounds of the city filtering through the window and the TV, which played at a low volume in the living room, set on the 24-hour news channel. You relaxed in his arms, your fingers tracing small circles on his back. He did not want this moment to end. It would end soon but it didn’t need to be now, within the next ten seconds. The sun was making your skin warm and your hair shine. Could you understand what it was telling you, now? Did you hear it, did you feel it in your bones like he had once?

What was Feliks whispering to you?

You moved against him but he kept you there for a little longer. “Please,” he murmured but his voice was swallowed by the wailing of a siren outside.

You raised your face, kissing his jaw, his cheek, his neck. Your lips were warm, a little rough, and dry. “I dreamt of you,” you revealed in between kisses, each of them igniting a new desire within him.

Hyunjin’s heart skipped a beat. “Me?”

You nodded. “We were walking together, outside. There was nobody else, it was just us. We were on an island, surrounded by nothing but a deep blue ocean.” You paused as though you were trying to remember. “We were barefoot and the sand was warm. Then we walked inland, following a path. There was a little house.”

Hyunjin froze in place, tensing up as panic took over him. No, no no no. He almost collapsed, his air evading him. What you were telling him wasn’t just a dream, no. You had truly visited some other place, and maybe it was why you had slept for so long. Hyunjin was familiar with the location you were describing—while he had never seen it with his own two eyes, he had heard a lot about it from Feliks. Peirasmos Island, home to none other than Ismene, Feliks’ aunt—Perikles’ older sister. Ismene, apparently, had long, blonde hair in which she braided myrtle leaves and flowers.

Ismene, the goddess of strategy and trials.

Gods were sent on Peirasmos Island for one reason and one reason only—to be assessed by Ismene, to be judged. Assessed. It was not Ismene’s burden to decide on somebody's faults or their worth, all she did was use her expertise to see someone for who they were and what they had done—nothing else. The sentence was not hers to give.

Hyunjin knew what you were about to say. He closed his eyes, his lips trembling. “The house was made of limestone. It had a small garden behind it, with a bench made of the same stone as the house. It was just one room with no glass in the windows.”

“Was someone in the house, darling?” he asked, his voice trembling even more than his lips.

“Yes.” Yes, of course. “A woman. I don’t remember her face, I don't think I saw it even once, but she had beautiful blonde hair.” Just like Feliks—it ran in the family. “She had flowers in it. She made us soup, heating it in a cauldron over a hearth but she did not speak. I wasn’t afraid of her. The soup was salty. She left before sunset, leaving us alone.”

You paused then. Hyunjin had one tiny bit of hope left, yet he knew not to hold onto it. Delicately, you kissed his jaw again but he kissed your lips. Your mouth tasted like stale water and your lips were raw but he did not mind that. He kissed you deeply while he still could.

“We made love,” you went on, and the last of his hope disappeared. Your voice was lower than it had been, as though you were telling a secret. “You fucked me on the stone floor and it was so good, Hyunjin.”

And now Ismene knew. She knew what you meant to him—she must have seen it in your eyes, or perhaps smelled it on the floor of her house. He could very well imagine her on her hands and knees, inhaling the spot where he had fucked you, finding in the scent of his cum the love he had for you.

He could not tell you this. If he tried, the words would close his throat shut. Instead, he kissed you. He could not tell you that he was kissing his love into you, for his love was like a knife on your throat, its sharp blade threatening to cut you open, to cause your demise.

The world could end. This, Hyunjin could fathom. But not you. You were his world now, the only place where he was understood. Your eyes were the only mirror in which he saw the reflection of his true self. He had never heard the absolute truth before he kissed your lips. He had never felt his soul before he tasted your pussy.

He knew that it was his destiny—that you were his fate, his serendipity. He had been meant to lick the juice of peaches off Feliks’ cock and that had been meant to unmake him so that he could be remade with you, in the version of him that he was supposed to be. The one he liked most. Not Hyathos. Hyunjin.

He also knew that he would rather be unmade again than see you harmed because of him.

So when you pulled away, breaking the kiss to look into his eyes, Hyunjin let you go, his arms falling on either side of him, limp, helpless. 

“I’m hungry,” you said, unaware of the danger he had put you in by falling for you. 

Hyunjin cooked for you. You sat on a stool by the counter while he carefully cut vegetables before roasting them. He had recharged your laptop and you scrolled through your email, then various news websites, then more specific art-related websites. 

“No one else knows.” Your voice was barely more than a whisper but he heard you very clearly. “Nobody is talking about it. The tablet. Cipherian. The discovery.” 

Hyunjin took a deep breath, weighing his words. “Why would they?” He gulped, a void carving itself into his chest. Soon, he figured, that void would be you-shaped. 

You took a few seconds to think about it. “Isn’t the latest fragment of the tablet a key to decode the language?” It seemed that as you were asking the question, some of your memories came back to you. You fell silent, your gaze fixated not on your screen but on your keyboard. Hyunjin wondered if, perhaps, you were looking at the letters on the keys, trying to make sense of them. “It’s not…” You gave yourself an answer, typing something on the computer. 

Hyunjin cracked an egg, then two, into a warm, buttered frying pan. One quick glance behind his shoulder confirmed that you were staring at the same picture you had been when it had dawned on you. When you realized that you understood it. Almost like a credit card needing activation, your mind had required exposure to the words to finally process them, opening a whole new universe to you.  

If he had to describe it, Hyunjin would say you fell into a trance after that, as though you were remembering the exact circumstances of the discovery of your newly acquired knowledge. He knew you couldn’t make sense of it, and he also knew he couldn’t help you make sense of it. Hyunjin may have been born a god but he had never been as helpless as he was this morning. 

You barely reacted when he slid the plate of food in front of you, so Hyunjin took your hand in his and closed it around the fork, forcing you to hold it. Your skin was cold and clammy, like someone who was ill. He kissed your temple, the scent of your hair as alluring as it had always been. “Eat,” he whispered into your ear. 

But you wouldn’t eat. You were muttering silently, your head leaning against him, eyes on the screen of your laptop. When Hyunjin closed the lid, you stared at the window instead, but not like one would just look at it. You stared like you were reading it, just like a book. And maybe you were. 

He put some food on your fork and brought it to your lips. He found that you accepted the food this way, so he literally spoon-fed you like that for a while, sometimes stopping to make you drink some watered-down juice. The more time passed, the slower your mutters became and the longer the pauses between them became, too. 

Once upon a time, Hyunjin had fallen in love with light itself. He had allowed it under his skin, into his heart, and he had let it change him. He had given all of his thoughts and all of his love to Feliks, and in the end it hadn’t been enough. In the end, it had ruined Hyathos. 

It was very human of him and he knew it, but he had believed something could be done with these ruins. He had believed, foolishly perhaps, that you would make a home out of them and that together, you would rebuild them into something better. He had also believed the same could be done with you and your broken heart. 

But then Feliks had taken that away from him, too. And all of that for what? So that you could read this message and relay it to him? Hyathos belongs elsewhere, far away. Like some creatures or peculiar plants, he thrives in the shade. Feliks didn’t need to infect your brain with his words for Hyunjin to know that. He had known for a while already that no matter how much he loved Feliks, he would never belong with him, he would never belong in places where his light shone.

That morning, after feeding you breakfast and hydrating you, Hyunjin ran you a bath in which he made you sit to wash the last few days off you. You let him do it, almost like your body and mind weren’t connected. Like your body was here but your soul was elsewhere, maybe traveling back and forth in between worlds. 

The sun was filtering through the bathroom window, caressing your skin. He lathered you lovingly, moved by the beauty of your body and the way it felt beneath his fingertips. The softness of you, your breasts, your waist, your pussy. He hated Feliks. No, of course he didn’t, but he kind of did. It was unfair. He washed you, noticing that you reacted to his touches, and it made him hard in his pants. Hyunjin was afraid of the things he felt for you.

He dried you up and put comfortable clothes on you, and you managed to brush your teeth on your own while he was making some tea. Hyunjin felt strangely detached from his own emotions, as though they were simply happening rather than he was experiencing and feeling them. 

When you joined him in the living room, you were different. You seemed a bit more like yourself, and your gaze had returned not to its original clarity—even more than that. 

You went to him on the couch and accepted the cup of tea he handed you. You even kissed him, running your fingers through his hair, sitting close to him. “Thank you,” you murmured. “I’m sorry, I—” You paused, sighing. “Do you understand what’s going on?” 

He did. He painfully did yet he couldn’t say a word of it. It was unfair. He hated Feliks, except he did not. He knew that Feliks could not have done that to change you, to alter you to a point where there was now an entire world of distance between you and him. Hyunjin knew Feliks wasn’t cruel like that, but he knew he was oblivious to his own strength, his powers—he couldn’t have imagined what he was doing when he kissed his language into you. 

But he should have. He should have known. And for this, Hyunjin resented him. 

“No,” he said, his voice low. He was trying to dodge the invisible gag preventing him from enlightening you. “Do you remember what we talked about before you… found out?” 

You frowned, visibly thinking. “We had sex,” you recalled. “Then you went out, and I checked my emails, and—”

“No, before that.” 

The crease between your brows deepened. You placed your cup on the coffee table, facing him on the couch. “I read to you. About the sky. And…” You were so close, so fucking close to finding out that it made him nauseous. In his chest, his heart was thumping hard and fast. 

It happened suddenly. You raised your eyes to stare into his, straightening your posture. “I had a dream. I dreamt about Feliks.” 

Hyunjin could have collapsed. You had been well-versed in the myths before, but like most mortals, you rarely used the proper pronunciation of Feliks’ name. The difference was so subtle that it was almost imperceptible anyway, that only a trained ear could notice. And he did. He did notice that you did not call him Felix, and probably never would again. 

“But how…” Hyunjin couldn’t expect you to understand the whole truth now, or ever. You were not religious—a person who was would have immediately seen this as divine intervention, as a miracle. But your mind needed a bit more time to make sense of it all. “Do you think that while I dreamt, I could have, I don’t know… Unlocked something in my brain? You know, they say we reach deep into our subconscious when we sleep.”

If that was the explanation that comforted you, then so be it. “What else could it be, darling?” He pulled you close, cupping your face in his hand. “That, and the dream you told me about when you woke up. I think your brain was telling you something.”

Your eyes became unfocused for a few seconds. “Ismene. She was the woman… I dreamt of her too, I…” 

You returned to silence for a while and Hyunjin let you, admiring you. Admiring the way the sun reflected in your deep, beautiful eyes. Admiring the way your pretty tits showed through your shirt. 

“I think I understand now,” you said after a while. As though you needed to face him, you straddled him on the couch, and it was your turn to take his face in your hands. He saw your mouth drop open when you felt his cock through his pants. “I understand the myths.” 

Hyunjin smiled, tears pricking at his eyes. Yes, you understood now and you would understand even more as time went on. “You’re beautiful.” And you were. You had always been, but he had never seen this much purpose in you, except when you had brought him down to the museum vaults to show him the painting. “You’re beautiful,” he repeated, caressing you, your tits, your waist. 

“Make love to me again,” you whispered, crashing your lips onto his. 

And he did. He undressed you and laid you on the floor, in the sun, and ate your pussy, again and again, lapping at you desperately. You were better than any of the ripest fruit he had ever tasted as a god or as a mortal. You came under his tongue but that did not stop him—he swallowed you, consuming you, letting himself be consumed by you at the same time, but his head remained buried between your legs. 

You were more divine than he was, your body, your moans, your hands in his hair, your juices rolling down his chin, smeared all over your thighs and your ass. He had never wanted anything as much as he wanted you. You came again, clenching and fluttering around his fingers, moaning with your mouth wide open, speaking in a language he could not understand because it had been erased from his memory.

He kissed you to see what those words tasted like and he found that your pussy was sweeter anyway. People worshiped gods and most gods worshiped themselves. But not him. He understood now why he had never been like the others, like he had never quite fitted among these gods—it was because Hyunjin had been meant to worship you, and only you. 

You undressed him, kissing him all over, his shoulders, his neck, suckling on his nipples while stroking his cock. Sunlight enveloped both of you as Hyunjin aligned himself with your entrance, his cock hard and straining, flushed dark. 

He fucked you on that floor where you had cried so much. He fucked you like that, stretching you at first, your heat swallowing him, then harder, pounding into you with deep, sharp thrusts. Hoping that Feliks was watching. Hoping that Feliks could see him, Hyunjin, declaring his love to you and your body and your pussy. 

He fucking loved your pussy and how warm and wet you were, how well you took his big cock. 

She’s mine, Hyunjin thought, pumping in and out of your soaked folds, watching your tits bounce with every thrust. Or maybe he said it out loud, because you opened your eyes, pulling him closer. 

You said something then, something he couldn’t translate but something he understood anyway. Yours. More words. Fuck me harder.

He drilled you into the floor with you on your hands and knees, your bodies becoming one as you reached behind you to hold onto him, your nails digging into his skin but it just felt like kisses. A goddess. You came, again, clenching so hard around him that Hyunjin couldn’t pull out in time. The waves of your orgasms transferred to him and he spilled himself inside you with long, intense pulses, each of them releasing a large amount of his divine cum. And that was better than anything. “Feels so good,” you whined into his ear as he fucked his seed deeper within you, somewhere Feliks would never reach.

Could you feel it? That he was saying goodbye? 

Maybe you did. You remained motionless when Hyunjin pulled out, and he watched as your cunt fluttered lazily a few more times, as his glistening cum oozed out of your hole. He didn’t move either for a while, until he felt the warmth of sunlight burning him gently. He wiped you clean, then the floor, where you sat in the sun. 

You got up as he gathered the clothes scattered around the room, making your way to the kitchen, naked, your pussy still flushed and swollen from how hard he had fucked you. Hyunjin watched as you sat in front of your laptop, opened a word processor, and began to type. 

He stayed for some time, washing up at first but not too thoroughly—he wanted the scent of you to stick to his skin a little, while he could. He wrapped a blanket around your body and poured you two glasses of water as well as laid a few snacks by the computer. You did not look away from your screen once—you typed and you typed, spilling your knowledge onto the keyboard. 

He glanced at the screen although he knew he shouldn’t. 

Both Hyathos and Feliks want to be loved—who doesn’t? But the two young gods crave different kinds of love. What Hyathos wants is the true kind of love, the kind of love that stains both parties, for better or worse. And he is seeking it, looking for it everywhere—in the sky, in the roses and asters of his mother’s garden, in the colorful trees of his orchard. 

Feliks, on the other hand—is the embodiment of light. Light does not discriminate, light touches everyone and everything. Light demands to be seen, to be witnessed, to be felt. Light demands gratitude, for without it, there is no world. Feliks is not selfish, Feliks is light itself—how could he ever think of shining his light on one and one only, no matter the bond between them? How could the people who are touched by him not love him back?

Feliks wants to be loved by all, and Hyathos wants to be loved by Feliks. 

This love is incompatible. This love is impossible. This love, ultimately, will pain Feliks and make him feel guilty of the way his heart works. It will, however, be Hyathos’ demise.

I wonder what this says about the people who wrote those myths, I wonder what they were trying to say here, what kind of logic they were trying to express with the tale of the star-crossed lovers. It brings forth how, at our core, we humans have not changed and never will. We’ve always told stories of impossible love. However, by comparing the original Language of the Gods and Cipherian, something becomes obvious: Cipherian seems to be used exclusively to refer to Feliks and Hyathos, often mentioning this unique and tragic bond that unites them. 

A secret language, with the purpose of speaking of broken hearts. This can be witnessed by the semantics of it. The word 'never', for example— 

He looked away. He had seen enough. 

Hyunjin had no doubt that you were currently typing one of the most important essays this world had known. You would type it and then, most likely, share your discovery with your colleagues at the museum. Linguists from around the world would beg to hear about it directly from you. People would talk about you on the news or in their reels, people would analyze Cipherian and your interpretation of it. People would become aware of your interpretation of the myths, too. And you had always been right about them, even before. 

And now, too much attention would be oriented on you and on this terrible yet irresistible secret that you were unearthing before their eyes. His father would come to feel it, his mother, too. If Feliks hadn’t told his family yet, they would also feel the shift in the fabric of the universe, and they would notice you. They would see you. 

Ismene knew that Hyunjin loved you. 

He hadn’t even had the pleasure of telling you that. It would have been too early—mortals usually waited before admitting this sort of thing. Time meant nothing to him. His heart had been beating since the beginning of the universe, and perhaps before that. He had waited lifetimes to find you. His purpose, his home. But now Ismene knew, and while she would never make accusations herself, it would be her duty to inform those concerned by the issue. She may have been an enemy of Hyunjin’s father, for the blood of light ran through her veins, but he would hear her nonetheless. 

When he would hear that his disappointment of a son had something to do with the revelation of the gods' core story, he would want to punish him. He would sit and think about the most cruel way to torture Hyunjin. Torture would not come in the form of pain or an extension of his banishment. Torture wouldn’t even be an immortal death, not right away at least. You were the key to unmaking Hyunjin for good, and now, Amaranthos knew.

You were the best thing that had ever happened to Hyunjin. And many things had happened to him. 

He loved you. And because he loved you, he would choose you over anything—divinity, light, or himself. 

Hyunjin kissed your cheek, wondering if you could feel the tears on his skin. Maybe you did, because you leaned into him a little, yet were unable to look away from your screen. Hyunjin understood—your mortal brain was invaded with knowledge bigger than itself, bigger than this world, and your focus would be greatly affected by that. For a while at least. 

“You’re leaving?” you asked, and to his surprise, you did slow your typing down and turned to him. You frowned when you saw his tears, wiping them away. Your hand smelled like him, like his petrichor-scented musk. “Are you alright?” 

He nodded. “Just glad to see you’re better, and writing,” he lied. “You worried me a lot the other day. I’ll head out and let you work.” 

“Will you be back soon?” You turned not just your face now, but your body toward him. There was a pretty pink mark on your left breast where he bit you earlier. 

Time meant nothing to him. It meant everything also. “Soon,” he lied again. He almost said it then, I love you, but that would have been selfish. “Write well, darling.” 

You offered him a faint smile, coated with sadness. “See you later,” you told him, and Hyunjin hated to hear you say it, hated to know he made you tell lies, too. If there was indeed a later, he had no idea when that would be.

He left your apartment. The sun was harsh and unforgiving in the sky, unnaturally warm for this time of the year. Hyunjin, who thrived in the shade, did not belong in this world anymore, not without you.

Each step that Hyunjin took as he walked away from your apartment seemed to deplete the strength of his soul. He almost turned back a few times, telling himself he could protect you better if he stayed by your side. The temptation was so great that if he had been capable of feeling pain, he was certain it would hurt him all over just to leave you, today, like that.

He managed to stop himself at the last second, choosing to hop into a random bus that would put as much distance between you and him as possible, but there was no taking you off his mind. He tried telling himself it was just temporary, that he would return to you in no time, but for the first time in a long time, he was facing the unknown. Even when his father had sent him here, even as Hyunjin woke up amongst the mortals, he had always had some grip on the situation, and he hadn’t been afraid. 

He hadn’t known fear before, and he found that it tasted bitter, that it wrapped his ribcage so tightly that he could hardly breathe.

Hyunjin got off the bus when it reached its last stop. This part of the city was quiet, or at least quieter, but that didn’t help him, it only made it worse. It would be so much easier if he didn’t love you, if he didn’t care—but the very reason for all of this to have happened was because of what he had in his heart, and you have been the one to put it there. On accident, yes, but still.

He wanted something, he just didn’t know what. If he couldn’t have you, what could he have, what could he do? 

For the first time in a long time, Hyunjin wished he could speak to his mother. He wished that he could visit her in her garden to ask for advice, or maybe just to ask her to hold him in her arms. He also wished, strangely, that he could hear his brother’s booming laugh echo all the way to the beach where he used to sit with his sister. She didn’t speak much, his sister, but Kyma rarely left Hyunjin alone for long periods of time. She’d keep her distance, sitting away from him, until he was ready to talk. 

He trusted her but he had been too fearful to reveal to her the extent of his relationship with Feliks. Yet, she knew that he was hurting. “I could make this go away,” she told him once, pouring Hyunjin a glass of wine so red it looked like liquified rubies. And Hyunjin knew she could, for Kyma was the patron of attraction, winter, and… indifference. “Drink this, I made it sweet for you.” 

But Hyunjin never drank the sweet wine, because he did not want to forget Feliks, no matter how painful it was to remember the taste of his love and the feeling of light on his lips or around his cock. 

If he couldn’t have you, what could he have?

What did he want?

He couldn’t feel his mother’s embrace or his little sister’s reassurance, but there was something he could do that would at least cost him an hour or so. An hour during which he wouldn’t painfully have to resist running back to you. 

So, Hyunjin found a cab and asked the driver to take him to the museum. Your museum. You wouldn’t be there, but the paintings and the statues would be. They were not the real thing but they were real things. And it would have to be enough. Hyunjin hadn’t missed his old life once since his exile, but today he needed something familiar, something tangible. 

He occupied his mind describing to himself each building the car passed. When that wasn’t quite enough, he tried to describe both the buildings and the people on the sidewalk, and when that also wasn’t enough, Hyunjin engaged in conversation with the driver, asking him about the city, pretending to be a tourist. The driver indulged him, offering a few funny stories he had heard from other tourists, and he gave Hyunjin a few suggestions for restaurants. Among them was the bistro he took you to dinner. He thought about that night, remembering it and your lips glistening with wine. He remembered dancing with you in the park and kissing you for the first time. 

He remembered feeling understood. Seen. Loved. You loved Hyathos. Only you didn't know what it meant to him.

Hyunjin gave the driver a generous tip before taking the main entrance into the museum. It was still buzzing with visitors and he was informed at the desk that waiting times could be quite long for those who wished to see Calverley’s The Cypress Tree. He did not mind that. In fact, he welcomed it. 

He entered the wing where your exhibition took place. The crowd was even more dense here, and he could see the queue for the portrait of Feliks from here. He would go see him later, but for now, he was craving something else. 

He was also craving silence in his mind. Because he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when you would type the last words of your essay. Would you be freed from that hypnotized state? Would you realize why there had been tears on his face this morning? Would you remember the desperation with which he had fucked you? 

Would you miss him? And if you did—what would you do about it? Would you touch yourself to the memory of him, each moan drawing more attention to you than the last? Would you seek him, would you call him? Would you look up at the sky and hope to see him? You didn’t know that the wrong pair of eyes would be following you. That your prayers would be met with violence, not benevolence.

More people were interested in the paintings, leaving Hyunjin decent space to observe the statues. He found that some of them were not accurate at all. He had come here many times already to look at each piece of the exhibition though, and found beauty in them anyway. Like the way this artist had decided to make his mother corporeal, with a smile on her face and wind in her hair. 

Or how another artist had depicted Kyma’s dark fate. The detail in the marble where her captor’s fingers sank into her supple skin to take her away from her home. The anguish on his sister’s face, her mouth open like she was screaming. Yet, nobody had heard a thing when she had been taken. 

“A bit dramatic, don’t you think?” A man to Hyunjin’s right was looking at the same sculpture, studying it carefully. “Gorgeous nonetheless.” 

Hyunjin nodded absentmindedly, lost in his thoughts. He wondered if his sister was still alive, and if she were, if she could hear him at all. 

“You’re taller than I expected,” the man went on. 

It took Hyunjin a few seconds to process what he had said. He turned to the stranger, frowning. The man was wearing an all-black suit which complemented his short but curly hair of the same color. His gaze was heavy with beauty and horrors alike but it did not stop him from flashing a dimpled smile at Hyunjin. 

“Who—” But the man had a tattoo right below his neck, barely visible due to the collar of his shirt. A black moon. 

Hyunjin’s stomach churned as he realized he was facing the very man depicted in the sculpture before them—Thoros, King of the Underworld, ruler of the night. The man who had abducted his little sister because he wanted to marry something pure and better than him. 

“Relax, it’s fine,” the man went on. “My love, can you come here before he murders me?” 

At first, Hyunjin blamed his reduced capacities—after all, he may not have been a true mortal but his essence had to be contained within the body of one, including his cognitive faculties. So it shouldn’t be unexpected that he saw something and drew the wrong conclusions about it. Except it was much worse than that—when a woman appeared from somewhere behind Thoros, he thought he had lost his mind, fully. He thought that perhaps his father’s retribution had already begun and that he had decided to drive his own son crazy, to make him lose his wits. 

The woman did not speak, not yet—her eyes were glistening with tears when she stood before Hyunjin. The woman was that, a woman, grown up, strong, with intelligent eyes. He did not remember her like this—Hyunjin remembered his sister as a soft and secretive thing, barely of age. 

If this was her, really her, then Hyunjin was facing none other than the Queen of the Underworld, patron of attraction, winter, and indifference. 

“Brother,” Kyma said, swallowing a sob. Her lips remained parted as though she wanted to say more but her words were evading her. Instead, she reached for him, touching his hair and his face. 

Hyunjin did the same, feeling her curls and the skin of her forearms, her hands. Her hair was longer but still the lovely shade it had always been—something too textured and layered to describe it in just a word. Not quite brown or black, it shone under the large skylight in the ceiling, showing flashes of impossible colors—the green of moss, the gray of basalt, the yellow of marigold.

It couldn’t be her, could it? Yet he knew deep in his heart that it was his sister, not some twisted hallucination. In a way that he couldn’t explain, he felt it in his heart.

“Kyma,” he whispered, his sentence trailing into nothing when his little sister threw herself at him to hold him in her arms. Hyunjin embraced her, bittersweet at the memory of his last embrace with her—she had been smaller then, too small. “It’s really you. You heard me.” There was no other explanation—Hyunjin did not believe in coincidences. 

“I did.” Kyma pulled herself away to look at him from head to toe. “We took the risk to come immediately.”

We. Hyunjin became aware of the implications of Kyma’s visit and, more importantly, who was accompanying her. Her husband, yes, but he was the man who had taken her as his hostage, who had stolen her away from her home. 

To say that rage overtook Hyunjin would be a euphemism. In fact, he was so shocked that he froze in place, repressing a violent gag when Thoros came to wrap his arm around Kyma’s waist. This might have been his only chance to get her back, to try and free her. Hyunjin was already elaborating a plan—which included slitting Thoros' throat right then and there while he had taken a mortal form—when Kyma stretched herself to deposit a little kiss on Thoros’ cheek. In return, he kissed her hand, which he then kept in his. 

“How dare you—” Hyunjin started, but Kyma raised her hand, interrupting him.

“Thoros insisted on coming with me, but I told him it would anger you. Can you please prove me wrong, brother? And let me explain? We don’t have much time. We can’t leave the Underworld for too long.” 

Hyunjin gave the man an appraising look. He may have been dressed all in black yet he radiated warmth—it spilled from his kind eyes, from the smile on his lips. Like a gentle sunrise. Now that he was facing him for the first time, Hyunjin thought Thoros had very little to do with the stories being told about him. Actually, there was not an ounce of cruelty showing in his eyes and absolutely no threat in the way he was embracing Kyma. He held her like one would hold his lover.

Like Hyunjin would hold you. 

“Father told us he stole you away from our home,” Hyunjin whispered, memories coming back to him a little too fast to keep track of all of them. They were distant, but they were real. He remembered crying for days and nights in Kyma’s empty room, wondering whether his little sister was going to be killed quickly or become some ruthless man’s toy. “Do you love him, Kyma?” 

She nodded slowly. “I think… I think Father lied to you, or perhaps he misunderstood me.” She took Hyunjin’s hands in hers, pulling him closer. They were surrounded by people, but none of them seemed particularly preoccupied by their presence. They were properly indifferent. “I told him about Thoros and about our love, and I told Father I wanted to marry him, but he thought I had been bewitched.” 

This was the first time Hyunjin heard of such a thing. He listened intently as Kyma and Thoros told their version of their tale, which was a rather different version than the one he knew. 

Thoros had inherited the crown from his father and he took it eagerly, taking with it all of its burdens. One of those burdens was the inability to leave his home for very long, or else the Underworld turned into chaos. Souls would be misplaced or even lost, and that wouldn’t even be the worst—souls could also escape. So, Thoros stayed on his land most of the time, except on the nights when the moon was dark. On new moons, he would leave his castle unbeknownst to everyone, for nobody could see him in the dark. He was no more than darkness in a pit of more darkness on those nights. 

And it was how he met Kyma. She caught his attention one night as she was walking barefoot in her mother’s garden. He had never seen a woman as beautiful as her—she was so beautiful that it took him three moon cycles to dare approach her. When he did, she was standing on the beach, the high tide swallowing her ankles and rising quickly. 

She was not afraid of him, and it was then that Thoros fell in love with her. Nobody was not afraid of him, especially not those who did not know him. But Kyma did not fear Thoros, not even when she saw the black moon above his collarbone. They talked all night, for so long that Thoros almost did not make it back home before sunrise. Before he left, though, she offered him a flower from the garden—a white camelia, almost as delicate and pretty as her. 

It did not take long before Thoros asked Kyma to become his queen. But when she told Amaranthos, he wouldn’t believe her, certain that Thoros had poisoned her mind. He locked her in her room. “What he said was, not you too, not you too.” And Kyma didn’t know at the time, but now she knew that he had been talking about Hyathos and Feliks. 

Hyunjin, lost in his thoughts, could feel the despair that had haunted their home after that night. “Our brother died for nothing, then? He went to fetch you back. Did he kill him?” He shot a glance at Thoros next to her. Hyunjin hadn’t been particularly close with his older brother, but Prokopios was his brother anyway, and that meant something, didn’t it? 

“I didn’t kill your brother if that is what you think,” Thoros explained. “He spent the night at a tavern in a little town, one day of travel away from the Underworld. He met a woman there and she gave him a strange berry, or so people say. The berry was to make your brother desire her—he lay with her all night, then all day after, just like she wished, until she became pregnant from his seed. She wanted to give birth to a god.” Thoros explained that when Prokopios found out what had really happened, he fell into despair—the berry had made him mad, forcing him to fall in love with this deceiver who did not love him back. 

“In the end, it was locals who killed him when he started attacking each and every one of them, hoping to kill her last, and the baby in her belly too,” Kyma concluded. “He was a ferocious fighter, but the enchantment on his heart made him weak.” 

“What… what about the woman? The child?” For now, Hyunjin would rather think about them than about the death of his brother. He had grieved for him a while ago, resenting him for dying and for leaving him to be the next in line for the crown, also pitying him for having been the one sent out there to die. “Did she…”

“She did give birth to him, but she was not a goddess, not even a demigoddess,” Kyma explained. “She was only an enchantress allowed to live among us. She died giving birth to the baby boy, and the few citizens left in the village were too scared he would turn into a monster like his father, so they brought him to us.” 

Kyma pushed herself to the side, revealing a bench behind her, on which two children were sitting. The oldest, a boy who resembled Prokopios so perfectly that Hyunjin gasped upon seeing him, was showing a few museum brochures to a little girl who had Kyma’s beautiful hair and Thoros’ warm smile. 

“Y—You—” Tears blurred Hyunjin’s vision as he observed his nephew and niece. The knot in his stomach launched yet another rope, entrapping his heart, tugging at it. He had never thought about that. About becoming an uncle. Or a father, even. He used to be blind. He used to only think of Feliks and the next time he would feel loved by him. 

Maybe, after all, his father hadn’t been wrong about him. 

Thoros looked up through the skylight, watching the sky intently. “We don’t have much time left,” he pointed out. “It’ll be sunrise soon enough back there.” 

Kyma took Hyunjin’s hands again. “I heard you calling for me, brother. I know what you want. But tell me first why you wouldn’t just come back with us. Do you love that mortal more than your home? We could take you back with us and then you could return to see our parents. Mother misses you, I’m sure.” 

“She misses you too,” Hyunjin pointed out. “She has no children left. She has two grandchildren and has no idea.” 

“I know.” Kyma’s eyes were wet, too. “I chose him. I chose Thoros, because I didn’t think I could exist without him.” Kyma had been promised to another god, a good man, just not one she loved. “I didn’t want to exist without him.” She let her words dissolve in the ambient noise of the room. “Do you think you can exist without her? The mortal?” 

She could have stabbed him and it would have had the same effect—Hyunjin felt a terrible pain in his chest, searing, inevitable, like a burn. “I don’t want to exist without her,” he whispered, and it felt like filling his body with venom. “But I have no choice. They will notice her, if they haven’t already.”

“They have.” Kyma didn’t hesitate to relay the information to him. “But I don’t think they hold the whole truth, and the rumors… Well… Apparently, Father would be getting ready for something, but we don’t know what.” She followed with her eyes when a ray of light moved on Hyunjin’s shoulder. “Come with us,” she insisted. 

He shook her head. “I don’t belong there anymore.” He was terrified of going back. Terrified of hearing Feliks call him in the language of light. “I just want her safe. You chose him, Thoros. I choose this. We have much to learn from mortals, sister, and this is one of those things—the easiest option will always be more tempting than the best one.” 

Hyunjin had been here for over a century already and he had acquired more knowledge than he ever had when he was a god. He knew that staying here was a risk, but he wanted to be close in case you needed divine aid. He had been here for over a century and he had seen mortals write and sing and dance about love, and he found that the mortal kind of love was the greater kind, the one that meant something. Or maybe he was just biased because he loved you. 

In his life here, he had seen the same love story told by different authors from different decades and continents and yet it was never actually twice the same. To one, love could be like a murmuration of starlings and to the other it was the sharpest of blades. One was not better than the other—nobody could condemn a desperate person who chose the blade if the knife loved them back. 

“Okay.” Kyma was wearing an elegant navy blue dress with a blazer of the same color. She reached into one of the pockets, extracting from it a mini bottle of cognac. It was the very same kind as the one he had drank with you, in this museum, in your office. Your mouth tasted like it the first time he heard you moan his name as you came, the weight of your body on his more delightful than immortality. “I can’t give you more than this, not from here. I tried to get two, but it didn’t work.” 

He nodded, taking the bottle in his hand. It was strangely warm. “Is it for her or for me?” he asked. Behind Kyma, her children were now walking around the sculptures, looking at them with big, impressed eyes. The little gods were more beautiful than any of those pieces of marble. 

“That’s for you to decide, brother.” Kyma squeezed his forearm. “But it’s her thoughts that are felt all the way to us, and have been for a while. So few mortals are focused on the divine these days that it makes her stand out.” 

Hyunjin couldn’t even look at his sister anymore—he focused on the bottle in his hand and the liquid inside it. It held a terrifying power. “Will she forget me?” His throat was shut tight, making his voice sound small and weak. 

Kyma forced him to look into her eyes. “No, Hyathos.” Hyathos. This name that had been once his was foreign now. “Putting distance between your bodies isn’t enough—all this does is also create distance between your hearts, temporarily.” She was smiling, but her smile was filled with sorrow. “I’m proficient in indifference, not miracles, brother. Your souls are intertwined and few could undo that.” She took his hand and forced the bottle into his pocket. It seemed to Hyunjin like it weighed a ton. 

Thoros, who had walked away for a few instants, returned, flanked by the two children. He stood a little behind Kyma. “We have to go now,” he said softly, offering Hyunjin a sorry smile, and Hyunjin knew he was equally apologetic to him and Kyma. He had not expected this from the king of the Underworld, but there were oceans of love pouring from his gentle eyes. 

Thoros was a handsome man, with a strong body containing both force and benevolence. Hyunjin had never really thought about it, but it must take a toll on any man to be so deeply responsible for the lost souls of the world. It was one hell of a burden, except it didn’t seem like that to him—Thoros did not seem weary or drained. If Hyunjin had to describe his energy, he would say his sister’s husband was pleasant, dependable, and kind.  

“No, please.” He wasn’t done. He wanted to sit with his sister and hear about her wedding. He wanted to take the children for a little trip and eat gelato with them. He wanted to get to know the man who had married his little sister. 

“We really have to, or else it’ll only make things worse,” Kyma pointed out, and Hyunjin knew she was right. “I know your heart is full of questions, brother, but you have to know it also holds the answers to them.” 

She held him again, kissing him on the cheek. Hyunjin only had enough time to whisper a weak thank you before they disappeared into the crowd. Parting from Kyma again was almost as painful as it had been the first time, except for the fact that Hyunjin knew she was happy. Happy, and in love, and loved, too. And Hyunjin knew that love could change anyone, including—and perhaps especially—gods.

He stood there, under the skylight, wondering about what kind of parents Kyma and Thoros were, and what their life was like. He thought about all the things he couldn’t have told her. He wished he could have spent more time with her, he wished he could have told her about you. And how Hyunjin came to meet you. He wished he could sit with Kyma and relay to her all of your thoughts about the myths. Above all, he wished you could have met her. And Hyunjin could have introduced you to Kyma as the woman he’s in love with. 

The sun shifted again, bringing Hyunjin back to reality. He gave one last glance at the sculpture he was closest to. Now that he knew how inaccurate it was, he had no interest in it anymore, so he walked away. He knew where he was headed. 

He found a man and a woman at the security desk, chatting about the next maintenance tour in the room where Feliks was exposed. He came to understand that the crowd was so important from morning to night that the museum needed to close the room from the public for a few minutes once every couple hours, just to make sure that everything was alright there. 

The woman noticed him first, staring at him with curiosity. “Yes, sir?” 

Hyunjin looked around, suddenly having second thoughts about this. Deep down, however, he knew he was doing the right thing. He gave the woman your name and told her he was a friend of yours, also doing research. 

“She is not here, sir,” the man responded. “Called in sick at the beginning of the week. But you can go to reception and leave a message to her.”

“I know she’s sick,” Hyunjin retorted, trying very hard to remain calm. That had always been difficult for him. It seemed like he was nothing but a pit where emotions fell into, trapped in there forever, unable to escape, doomed to rot. Doomed to be wretched. Wherever Hyunjin went, he brought with him his disasters—and now, he had made a disaster out of you, too. “I’m here to see Han Jisung.” 

“Sir, you would need an appointment—” 

“Can you please just call his office? Tell him Hyunjin wants to see him.” 

The woman nodded and went to the phone on the desk, entering an extension number on it while the man regarded Hyunjin with visible annoyance. The woman repeated word for word what Hyunjin had instructed her to, and it took no time before she hung up the phone, announcing to Hyunjin that Jisung was on his way. 

The Director of Security appeared through the crowd with an apprehensive look on his face. He was wearing a standard security button-up shirt and even some sort of tactical belt, but he also had a dark gray blazer on. When he stood before Hyunjin, he was fidgeting pointlessly with the flashlight on his belt.

“Hwang.” Jisung offered him a stiff nod. “You wanted to see me?” 

Hyunjin buried his hands into his pockets. The bottle was there—the glass of it was cold yet he could feel the warmth of the liquid inside it, tempting, terrifying. “In private,” he responded, which earned him yet another nod. 

The path they took was familiar to Hyunjin—it was the same one you had led him on during that fateful night when you brought him to your office. The upstairs hallway was much quieter than the floor below but the conversations and footsteps could be heard nonetheless. When Jisung walked past the closed door of your office, he slowed down. “Are you here to pick stuff up for her?” He didn’t even look behind him.

Hyunjin couldn’t give him an immediate answer—the answer was no, only, he wished it was yes. “No. I need to speak with you.” 

A third nod—Jisung then motioned Hyunjin toward the door to his office, in which Hyunjin had already been, also on the same night. Jisung made his way behind his desk but did not sit and neither did Hyunjin—they just stood, facing each other, with a desk between the two of them. 

“What do you want that is so top secret, then?” There was obvious disdain in Jisung’s eyes. There were other things too, but it only told Hyunjin he had come to the right person. 

“I’ve got something to ask of you. It’s not a small thing,” Hyunjin admitted, the weight of the bottle almost crushing him the same way a galaxy would if it fell onto him. “It’s about, huh, our friend in common.” For some reason, speaking your name out loud, here, today, felt wrong, so he avoided it. “It’s an errand that will take considerable time, I believe, and since you will no doubt have to miss some work for it, I will compensate you generously.”

Jisung tilted his head to the side. “What?”

Hyunjin went on without waiting. “I’m asking you—begging you—to please keep an eye on her. From up close, as close as you can without it seeming… forced, or suspicious.” It wasn’t fair. It should be Hyunjin who did that. “Can you please keep her safe?” 

Any aversion completely melted from Jisung’s face, turning immediately into concern. “What? Is she in danger or something? Is it a stalker? Online? That weird neighbor of hers who liked to listen when we—” Jisung ended his sentence there, for which Hyunjin was grateful. 

He shook his head. “No, well, I don’t know. Maybe. She could be in danger. Just. Can you? Can you keep an eye on her?” He closed his hand around the small bottle in his pocket. The choice was his to make—he could either make this easier for himself or for you. Which was to say, there was no choice to be made at all. 

Jisung crossed his arms over his chest. “Did you guys break up or something? Why aren’t you the one keeping an eye on her?” 

Break up? Hyunjin wished, in a twisted, disastrous way, that there had been something to break up. “No. We were never a couple.” And it hurt Hyunjin to say that. What terrible words to use oxygen for.

It wasn’t fair, yet it was all his fault. It went against everything that made sense in the world for an immortal to fall in love with a mortal. You would literally die someday. You would grow old, which was not a problem for him—he would massage your painful joints and play your favorite music and hold all of your weight so you could dance with him. But there would be a day when you would take your last breath and Hyunjin would remain the same, unchanged on the outside and shattered on the inside. His body, even the one of a mortal, would remain healthy and strong and young until his divine essence was allowed back among the gods. 

And after you died, Hyunjin wouldn’t even be able to kill that body. He would be sentenced to live the rest of his immortal life without you, knowing that you had once existed and that you would never exist again.

A curse can sometimes come disguised as a blessing and a blessing as a curse. This, the young demigod knew all too well.

He should have been more careful. He should have run away from you the moment you made his heart skip a beat, the moment he saw you approach him in this very museum. He should have left when you began speaking not to him, but to his soul. But how could he resist you? How could he resist that feeling of belonging, of respite? 

We were never a couple. What an awful, fucked up thing to say. It was all he wanted with you. To wake up in the bed you shared with him. To kiss your sleepy eyes and drape himself all over you, touching you all over, feeling your body against his, his precum rolling down your thigh, the scent of your pussy filling the room. Your hands all over him, too, loving him, and he loved you too. Fucking you hard or gently or both, staining the sheets with sweat and cum and devotion. 

“So, let me put all the facts out there,” Jisung started. “You showed up here one day, took her to dinner, came back here to fuck her in her office and have been fucking her ever since. You didn’t break up because you weren’t a couple and now you’re offering to pay me to hang out with her?” 

Hyunjin had never been one to feel rage. In fact, it was that trait of his that had caused his father to be so disappointed in him. He wanted for Hyunjin to be as seething, as furious as he was. But nothing had ever compelled Hyunjin to be angry, or outraged, and even less to offer any sort of retaliation. His first reaction had always been to back off and keep quiet. To observe. To keep his big emotions to himself. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had been that, angry, or if he had ever been.

But he was now. Or at least he thought he was, Hyunjin wouldn’t have been able to tell for sure if the fire burning in his veins was rage, however he suspected it when he saw terror in Jisung’s eyes. But Hyunjin couldn’t control himself—he walked around the desk and grabbed the other man by the collar of his shirt, shoving him into the wall behind. “And how is that different than what you did to her? HOW?” He was stronger than Jisung, much stronger, and he ought to be careful except he couldn’t. “AT LEAST I LOVE HER. All you ever did was use her like some fleshlight and discard her when you wanted to try another toy.”

Jisung’s fear transferred to Hyunjin—he became afraid of himself, afraid of what he had done and what he wanted to do, which was to throw Jisung at the wall hard enough to hit his head. This is what he was—a disaster, creator of more disasters. 

He let go of Jisung, backing away until he felt the wall behind his back. Jisung remained at the other side of the room, eyes on him, chest rising and falling as he took deep, deep breaths. Hyunjin wasn’t really expecting anything specifically to happen after such a scene, yet Jisung surprised him.

“What’s going on with her? Did someone… threaten her or something?” And Hyunjin understood then. Jisung had figured out that he wasn’t reacting this way for nothing. 

Hyunjin couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t tell him that his god of a father would perhaps send something terrible upon you. It could be tomorrow or ten years from now. It could be a drunk driver while you crossed a street. It could be a heart attack. It could be a man just like him, a mortal version of Amaranthos, the god of violence and indulgence, the king of bloodshed, and this man would perhaps do unspeakable things to you.

He couldn’t tell that to Jisung, but he could be vague about it. “Or something, yeah,” he responded, his voice slow and slurred, almost like he was living a nightmare, and maybe he was. “So. Can you? Keep her safe?” 

Jisung nodded, his eyes a little unfocused, like he was trying to put some order in his thoughts. He gulped thickly, finally managing to hold Hyunjin’s gaze. “Should I take my gun with me? Should I go now?” 

“As soon as you can. As for the gun… if you can carry it, it might be for the best. An extra precaution. But don’t let her see it. And don’t tell her I sent you.” He reached into his pocket with a shaky, clammy hand. Crossing the room again, he handed the small bottle of cognac to Jisung. “Can you give this to her? It’s her favorite. Tell her it’s to celebrate her discovery.” 

“Discovery?” Jisung took the bottle from him, and it went into his pocket. 

“She… found something,” Hyunjin chose to say. “She’s working on it as we speak—she doesn’t have the flu. It’s, huh, it’s stressful, like really stressful. She’ll seem weird at times, so just… I don’t know. Just… don’t panic, stay with her, she’ll come back to her senses sometime later.” He motioned toward Jisung’s blazer pocket. “The cognac might help her calm down.” He hoped that the story he had constructed was believable enough. He was not afraid that the cognac wouldn’t make it to you or that you wouldn’t drink it—Kyma herself had brought it for you, so it meant you would get to taste it. 

And it would make you indifferent. To him. 

A heavy silence filled the room. Jisung stared at Hyunjin, at the window behind him, then at Hyunjin again before going to his desk, grabbing the phone there. He composed an extension and Hyunjin heard him trying to steady his breathing. “Yeah, Jung? Can you come up here and cover the cameras? I’ll call in Choi to be on floor duty. Yeah, after the Room 3 sweep is fine. Yeah, I gotta bounce.” Nothing else was said, he simply hung up the phone. 

“I’ll go now.” Jisung grabbed his keys and his cell phone as well as his wallet from a drawer of his desk. “You’ll be around?”

“No.” He hadn’t really thought about the long-term version of things. “I’ll be out of the country for some time.” What Hyunjin meant is he would call his manager so that Seungmin could find him as many overseas contracts as possible, making sure his days and nights were fully booked. Anything to stay busy. Not that it would make him forget you, but it might help him stay away from you. 

“Right.” Jisung went to the door and Hyunjin followed him. They walked past your office again, then went downstairs. The agents he had seen earlier were busy closing Room 3 for the hourly inspection. 

“Mind if I go in while they do their thing?” Hyunjin asked almost absentmindedly, almost like he had no say in it. “Just to see the painting again, then I’ll leave for good.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Jisung seemed too preoccupied to really care. He simply waved at the male security guard and let him know Hyunjin would go in with them, which wasn’t questioned since the statement came from the Director of Security himself. “Take care, Hwang.”

“You too, Mr. Han.” And the men parted ways, just like that. Just like that, Hyunjin had forsaken the thing he liked most about himself, which was you. 

Hyunjin went to stand in front of The Cypress Tree, the Calverley painting. He remembered the man, the salty scent of his house, of his skin, the taste of his lips. Behind him, the two guards were putting a few things in order in the large room. There was another skylight built into the ceiling here, but it was even bigger than in the other gallery. 

It seemed to Hyunjin as though a ray of sun filtered through it only to illuminate the painting before him. Feliks, his youthful beauty, his hair of light. 

Many many years ago, Feliks had given Arthur Calverley a message so that he could paint it onto a canvas with the aim that Hyunjin would come across it someday. It had taken all this time for him to be reunited with it. This painting, it was said, had killed Calverley, and Hyunjin believed it. The story around the painting was more like a folk tale to mortals but Hyunjin knew it to be true—the story said that Calverley had barged into the art supply store owned by his friend to buy more paints, claiming he had a strange dream and had been inspired by it. 

So he had painted the message given by Feliks and it had killed him.

And Hyunjin was terrified that the same would happen to you, too. 

Behind him, the two guards were now relaying some information to the front desk through their walkie-talkies and paid him absolutely no attention. Hyunjin went over the ribbon separating him from the painting, standing as close to it as he could without touching it.

He felt the warmth emanating from it. He could smell it, too—the scent of light, of warm cypress, of ripe peaches, of soft grass. Of Feliks, and his cum and Hyunjin’s cum, too. Their foolish, impossible love. He stared at the painting, letting Feliks’ apology enter his pores and melt into him. 

“I miss you too, Feliks,” he murmured to the brush strokes that looked exactly like Feliks. “I’m sorry I wasn’t enough. I tried to be happy, I wanted to. I wanted her more than anything. Can you help me? Can you help me keep her safe?” 

A cloud rolled into the sky, covering the sun, and Hyunjin wept. 

... to be continued.

author's note: Wow… Honestly, guys? I had given up hope. I did not think I would ever update Lullaby. Not because I don’t care about it—because of the opposite, actually. There are a lot of emotions I associate with this story, and I think I needed time. A literal year later, here we are. Originally, I had imagined this to be the last chapter which would have been followed by an epilogue. I allowed myself to get carried away though, which will undoubtedly cost me notes and engagement because this chapter is very plot/mythology heavy and has minimal spice. 

All that being said, I want to say thank you to the readers who support me through asks, reblogs or tips. You guys make one hell of a difference in my life as a lil kpop ficcie author. Thank you for your patience and thank you for loving the stories and their characters. It means more to me than you could think! 💕

permanent taglist: @abiaswreck ; @accalus ; @aimeexx ; @b4kuho3 ; @binstitsweat ; @casualtaelyn ; @cb97percent ; @changbinheart ; @chans1aptop ; @chartrucewhore ; @djeniryuu ; @dwaekkiracha ; @erispancakes ; @fwess ; @hanjingin ; @hwan-g ; @hyuneyeon ; @hyunfruits ; @hyunjinswifeee ; @hyunniethepooh ; @hyunsungbased ; @hyuwunjinie ; @hyyuniverse ; @iam2out ; @imseungminsgf ; @inkybird ; @jollchacho ; @katsukis1wife ; @lilbabiebunni ; @leedunno ; @lotus-dly ; @miraworldsstuff ; @moasworld ; @neosracha ;@palindrome969 ; @revehosh ; @skzfelixlove ; @starseekersworld ;  @straydhampir ; @straykids5star ; @suhomylife ; @sunlitwilderness ; @ven-fic-recs ; @yourmercibeaucoupsblog

#i miss my demigod. #gotta re read again #a lullaby on his throat

[hyunskizz]

Why does the best dreams happens only when we have less amount of sleep...?!!??!

#like i want continue my dream but i don't remember anything

[hyunskizz]

⚠️ MHA/BNHA SPOILERS OF NEW CHAPTER ⚠️

WHAT IS THIS NEW CHAPTER????

HORIKOSHI YOU BETTER SLEEP WITH ONE EYE OPEN AND YOUR WINDOWS CLOSED

WDYM IZUKUS ARMS ARE GONE. Maybe Eri can rewind him, but that would mean getting her in danger no ? 😭😭😭

AND AFO REMOVING AND GIVING SHIGARAKI DECAY ?? What was his original quirk ??? FUCK YOU AFO

MY MAN SERO IS HERE TO SAVE THE DAY !! Tho I have a bad feeling about it 🧍

MY MAN AIZAWA IS HERE TOO !! PIRATE STYLE

#wtf😭😭😭

[hyunskizz]

[hyunskizz]

A Midsummer Love | hhj

❝𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐲?❞

↳ Much taken with the romance of finding a husband, you have looked excitedly to this season since you were a girl, only to find all you thought it would be ruined by your overprotective brother. Enter the handsome Duke of Hastings, who possessed of his own ulterior motives, presents you with an arrangement to yield you a love match. This season shall be the most scandalous yet.

↳ Hwang Hyunjin x female reader

↳ Bridgerton au. Fake relationship romance trope. Period piece, early 19th century. Angst and tension, conflict, mild violence, sexual tension and budding romance, yearning and pining, a sweet and happy ending.

! Mature content, adult themes, 17k, suitable for 18+ readers only !

「Part of the skz tropes collab w @yoongihan」 「main contents list」 「© March 2024 by jl-micasea-fics」

‘Twas the Regency era’s fifth season of courtship that bloomed upon the ton when you came of age.

The whispered stirrings of anticipation bewitched ladies and lords alike as early as the first thawing of spring’s chill, and to say you had counted down the days towards it would be to vastly understate your enthusiasm.

Last season you had watched your elder sister make her debut with awe, enraptured by the gowns and balls and romance that seemed to glow rosily over all of society for the summer months that were, in your young eyes, all too painfully brief. Now they began again, bringing hope after dream, and you felt it not too soon to proclaim that these months would be yours. How wistfully you had dreamt of the day you would be whisked off your feet by a wealthy, handsome gentleman that would make of you a blushing bride and (though the logistics escaped you), a doting mother to many, many children. How beautiful a life you would live, making a home of a quaint country house— it need not be so opulent, of course; perhaps ten or so rooms in which to repose would be ample. Taking tea and hosting friends would fill you with much delight, as would turning in with a good book to the view of gardens clustered with flowers and exotic posies of the most stunningly vibrant ilk.

Such were the romantic musings you lost yourself to amidst the surrounding clamour of house servants that fussed about your bedroom.

“Come, come Miss!” One such servant entreated, her arms full of colourful satin ribbons. “We must get you dressed! Time is upon us!”

When the work of the servants was done and you had been made presentable, you admired yourself in the looking glass, whereupon your breath caught. Surely the modiste had outdone herself; you hardly knew your reflection. The white chiffon gown fell flatteringly to the shape of your body, trimmed as it was with dove’s feathers and silver. Satin white gloves and a gossamer shawl about your shoulders kept you modest, yet a generous neckline did plainly put on show your decolletage and the long column of your throat, teasing at the swell of cleavage your snug corset so amply bestowed.

“My goodness!”

Your mother’s breathless exclamation drew your attention to the doorway, where she flustered and fussed. She breezed over as though to take you in a hug, yet caught herself for fear of rustling what perfection had been achieved.

“My darling girl, look at you,” she cooed, her kind eyes teary. “Should the queen not immediately proclaim you the diamond of the season on first sight of you; well! I shall proclaim her mad on the spot, and off shall be my head!”

“Mother, please,” you laughed, warm with her affection. “I can hardly take credit. If anything, I rather think I should be thanking you.”

“Nonsense!” She waved the sentiment away. “The finest gowns are but rags on those unfortunate young ladies without the poise for them. You, my dear, will be the most refined debutant of the social season.” She pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “Now, then. Are you ready?”

“To face the queen and have her exact judgement upon me before all the ton?”

“Yes.”

With a deep breath, you nodded. “I have awaited this day for longer than I care to admit, mother. Yes. I am ready.”

“You shall dazzle, my dear.” She turned to the orderly line of servants still amassed. “Fetch the carriage, please. My second born is to debut today!”

*

Never had you seen so much beauty in one place— surely such gatherings upset the balance of things, temporally or spiritually.

Most everywhere you looked was a young lady dressed in her finery, attended to by their mother or other such family member to which they afforded responsibility of chaperone. The keen tingle of giddy nerves hovered about the royal lobby, the vastness of which was almost enough to overmaster your own anxiety— how high the ornate ceiling loomed above your head! From the first you had been utterly awed, having heard only tales from your sister of the rich grandness the royal family possessed, the gold and the white and the floral; her stories seemed to fall utterly short of where you now stood, waiting your turn to parade yourself before the queen, who in the next room reposed with her retinue and all those noble men and women of court. An intimidating affair no matter which way one sliced it, to have one’s name called out in invitation to a lion’s den, but so excitedly were you anticipating what might come after the formalities had been dispensed with, you found yourself rather clearer of mind than those that shared your plight. The opulent double doors at the far of the room were opened and shut by the pages, yet another young lady admitted with a fanfare.

“Now, remember dear,” your mother said softly. “Be only what you are. The queen will know if you appear before her with ill airs and graces. She has a nose for such things.”

“Yes, mother. I shall be fine.”

“Naturally, dear. Naturally. Just— Well, do take care where you tread, yes? Your frock is so delicate. Should I have instructed the modiste to take it up an inch? Will you be—”

“Mother.” You took her hands. “I shall be fine.”

Just then, the clear pronunciation of your name suffixed by ‘of the house Bridgerton’ was heard by all, your heart lurching with the blare of horns that accompanied it. Your mother flustered yet stood aside for your entrance, maintaining several paces behind as you stepped from the lobby and into the queen’s chamber. Lords and ladies and courtiers of unthinkable wealth and astute reputation looked on, gathered either side of the central aisle where you walked demurely, head held high, heart pounding all the while. The queen, so widely known to be benevolent and fair, awaited you at the end, throned and wrapped in a grand gown of striking purple that complemented her dark, silky complexion. It was difficult to tell much of her expression: her lips were pressed thinly, her brown eyes focused. Behind her stood her retinue of ladies-in-waiting, each of them cradling a bundle of white fluff that you understood to be the queen’s dogs— the small irony made your lips twitch. Just as the tinny shrill of the horns faded and died, you stopped and gave as most courteous a curtsy as your mother had trained you to do.

“Your Majesty,” you said reverently.

Still, it remained nigh impossible to intonate anything of the queen’s feelings through her drawn features. She looked you up and down, and after a moment, rose from her throne. A quick gasp shocked all in the room, and though composed in appearance, your insides twirled with worry.

She took an elegant step towards you, and all at once it seemed too bold to look so directly and so closely at the queen, force of nature that she was. And yet the queen reached out to tilt your chin up and right your posture, looking you squarely in the eye. She smiled warmly.

“Flawless, my dear,” she said.

So it was that the diamond of the season had been found, and within the hour the news had swept across the ton and into every household of note, eliciting from those bachelors keen to seek a wife this season a most enthused and determined course of action, for the young lady that possessed the queen’s endorsement was unquestionably proper and pretty in every way a young lady ought to be, and therefore coveted the attentions of the finest men.

During the carriage ride home you listened to your mother speak excitedly of all this, in truth too giddy to much consider that you might attract the wrong attentions.

*

“And so, mother, you understand why I must take over as her chaperone and representative, yes?”

The eldest Bridgerton brother meant well. He, like all men, simply lacked the trait considered widely to be feminine, but that to your mind (perhaps naïvely) ought to be considered par for the course of simple conversational etiquette in high society: tact.

“I’m afraid I do not, Anthony,” your mother replied, her stitching set aside. “In fact, if I possessed a more hysterical mind, I might think that you mean to insult me.”

Anthony rolled his eyes, pacing about the warm sitting room. “I mean no such thing.”

“You imply that my judgement in the matter of your sister’s matching is inferior to your own, do you not?”

“I imply that your knowledge as to the men of the ton is inferior to mine, mother,” he said. “My sister has been proclaimed the diamond of the season. You know well the attention this will draw to her.”

Your mother smiled. “Indeed, I do. The more, the better for her.”

“And that is precisely why I should be more involved,” he sighed. “She should not indulge just any man that approaches her, mother. It might not be gossiped of in your sewing circles, but I assure you, the things I know of these men remove more than half of them from eligible courting.”

Your mother blinked. “And how, dear son, did you come to possess such information?”

Anthony ceased his pacing.

“Would it be because you too frequent the gentleman’s clubs?”

“I am a man. It is normal to—”

“Normal for you, but not normal for those men that may show interest in your sister?”

With a start, he roughly cleared his throat. “Am I not the man of this house?” he asked sharply. “Is my word not final? I shall accompany her to every ball and event of the season and take responsibility as chaperone. I will know who intends to court her. This, I have decided. We shall speak no more of it.”

Your mother sighed wearily and picked up her stitching. “As you wish, dear.”

“I merely wish the best for her, mother.”

“I know, dear.”

Anthony nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Well, then. I have business to attend to.”

He strode across the room as though to leave.

“Anthony?”

He turned back to where his mother reposed in a stream of summer sunlight.

“Your word is final on matters of the Bridgerton household. That is the duty left to you by your dear father,” she said gently. “But mind your words on your sister’s heart. You cannot speak for her when she sets it, and she will do so of her own volition.”

Anthony pursed his lips, indignance flaring.

He would see about that.

*

The first ball of the season was thrown by the esteemed Lady Danbury, a close acquaintance of your mother’s. You knew her to be a rich widow, her husband having passed when she was middle-aged, and the vast fortunes she now enjoyed were those left to her by marriage.

When the carriage pulled up outside Danbury House, you were much awed by what you saw. The grand country manor had been set for the event, vines of colourful wildflowers wound about the stone pillars that propped the awning. Gemstone encrusted braziers blazed hot with open flame, tincturing the summer night with the excitable scent of burnt charcoal. They aligned a wide red carpet that lords and ladies walked arm in arm, and it was this that you stepped upon as you climbed from the carriage.

Anthony, first to disembark, offered you his arm.

“Come, sister.”

Entering the manor to the bustle of partygoers, you returned greetings and well wishes to those that you both knew and didn’t; indeed, the heft of the queen’s issue of you soon became clear. All eyes were trained to you as though expecting you might grow a second head, and though flattered by the attention, you were inwardly flustered and consequently glad that your brother had decided on accompanying you, despite the initial perplexment.

In the main ballroom, a central dance floor was marked off by high standing bouquets of white and lilac lilies— such appeared to be the theme of the night. Soft violet hangings of chiffon and lace formed stunning tapestries along the smooth, curved walls. Bows and ribbons and elegant arrangements of dove white fabric concealed the darker corners of the ballroom, so that all appeared bright and soft. Suited servants made the rounds with flutes of fizz and bites to eat. Young ladies stood near to their chaperones, their coy eyes wandering to those men whose attentions they most hoped to attract. The gentle tones of violin and cello floated about the ballroom from the concentrated band, soon to play a tune that would have all involved in the customary baroque dances.

Your conversations with the other ladies were congenial and light; pleasantries exchanged on your dress and your apparent luck at being declared the season diamond. Three quarters of an hour passed much like this, and having yet to be approached by a suitor with an offer of conversation or dance, you began to worry. Was your dress not so appealing after all? Was there something wrong with your hair? Did you have something in your teeth?

“Anthony!” called a voice from across the ballroom, so loud as to startle you from your thoughts.

“Lord Berbrooke!”

Somewhat solemn until now, your brother’s face lit up as he warmly greeted the stout gentleman that had entreated him. He was rotund around the middle and at least two heads shorter than Anthony, his cheeks puffy red and chin abused by a scraggly ginger beard. Too long did his bloodshot eyes linger on you, much to your discomfort.

“How goes it, Viscount?” Berbrooke asked gruffly, his breath hot around his words. “Not married yet?”

Anthony shook his head. “No. God forbid I ever should be.”

“Tosh! It comes to us all in the end, Bridgerton. You shall be no exception; especially with a fortune such as your father left.” He licked his chapped lips. “I imagine you've suitors simply chomping at the bit to get a foot in the door, so to speak.”

“Not as many as one would like,” you muttered.

“What was that, young lady?”

Anthony laughed, and in a bid to change the topic, said, “Lord Berbrooke, this is my younger sister. She makes her debut this season.”

You smiled and curtseyed politely. Berbrooke’s eyes rolled over you greedily.

“A fine young flower, indeed,” he slathered. “What a delight it is to meet you, my dear.”

Revulsion twisted your gut, yet you smiled all the same.

“Might I steal her away for a dance, Anthony?” he asked.

“You flatter me, sir, but I—”

“She would be delighted,” Anthony stated flatly. “Wouldn’t you, sister?”

Berbrooke looked on eagerly. Horrified but unable to voice it, you strained a smiled and nodded, suddenly coming to understand what it was had made you so entirely unapproachable this evening— or rather, who.

“Please excuse me a moment.”

Not wishing to remain a second longer, you quickly departed the conversation and hurried across the ballroom, heart in your throat. You were loath to believe that Anthony’s insistence on chaperoning could be based on such overzealous reasoning as protecting your virtue, but how else was it to be interpreted when all evening he had stood sombrely at your side, repelling all who might hope to approach save for one? And that one, of all!

“Sister!”

Catching your elbow and halting your escape, Anthony quietly manoeuvred you aside.

“You will apologise to Lord Berbrooke for your rudeness,” he said plainly.

“Apologise?” you hissed, for your relationship with your brother was none delicate and could well withstand the brazenness of sibling conflict. “How could you ask me to dance with him?”

“Lord Berbrooke is a fine man. He has business in many quarters of the city and his reputation is solid. Above board. You could do much worse.”

“I could do better, brother. He is thrice your age and ten times as foul. I will never marry him.”

“You would do well to remember yourself. The matter of your marriage is as much my affair as it is yours. You will be matched well, and by my hand.”

“Then I shall not be matched at all,” you said, tears pricking your eyes. “When I marry, it shall not be in the name of convenience or business. It shall be for love.”

“Oh, do grow up, for heaven’s sake.”

“Mother shall hear of this.”

“Mother already has. She has agreed to my terms.”

“If that were true, you would not have insisted on her residing at home tonight,” you said, snatching your arm from his grip.

“Sister—”

“I require air. Do not follow me.”

You stormed away before your tongue could much more loosen, weaving through the crowd that had begun to amass on the spacious ballroom floor, positions taken up according to the music cues that you hardly heard for the anxious pounding of your heart.

Anthony could not do this to you. You would not allow him to do this to you. To marry that detestable man would be the most unthinkable fate—

Just then, you were promptly winded by a force of collision to your chest, solid enough to have you reeling from your feet. Strong arms caught and steadied you, and you soon realised that the fault was all your own— in your distress you had rushed with haste into the broad back of a man you’d never before seen, but that now held you near to him and looked upon you with soft hazel eyes and a grim expression of bewilderment. Light blonde, shoulder-length hair framed his features that, in the ballroom light, seemed almost feminine in their soft curvature, yet the tell of masculinity held in his strong jaw and sharp nose.

“M— My apologies,” you quickly offered, straightening yourself and stepping from him; he released you easily.

“The apology should be mine,” he said in a most pleasingly smooth voice. He bowed courteously. “Curse my foolish body for getting in your way, my lady.”

You laughed lightly, somewhat relieved. “Indeed. Curse my eyes for not seeing your foolish body.”

The man grinned, his perfect white teeth on show. Breathtaking.

“I do not believe I know you, sir,” you said. “You are from the city?”

“Ah. Well, yes. I am not long returned to the ton. My business demands I spend much of the year overseas.”

“And you are back for the social season?”

He cast his eyes over you, a wry smile forming on his plush lips. “At the request of my aunt, yes.”

About to throw yet another question at the man whose name you had yet to even discover (for that was simply how enthralling he was), your endeavour was disturbed by the boom of your brother’s voice.

“Hwang!” He approached quickly and took the man you were addressing in an embrace that was spiritedly returned. “I had not heard you were back!”

“Then you pay as little attention to the gossipmongers of this city than I, old friend,” he laughed.

“Business allows you the break?” Anthony asked.

“Business flows as busily as ever, Bridgerton.”

“I see. We have the esteemed Lady Danbury to thank, then?”

“My aunt can be...” He flicked a gaze to you. “Persuasive.”

On your congenial smile and the acknowledgement of your presence, Anthony finally turned to you.

“I see you have met my sister,” he said, tone markedly flat.

“Your sister?”

Anthony nodded. The man blinked, his smile disappearing.

“Sister, allow me to introduce you. This is the Duke of Hastings and a personal friend of mine. Hwang Hyunjin.”

A duke. Goodness. Though he himself seemed none taken with the formality, grimacing at the exchange.

“It is wonderful to meet you, your grace,” you said, looking determinedly into those sweet eyes.

“The pleasure is entirely mine, my lady.” He returned the gaze.

“Yes, well—” Anthony cleared his throat. “She debuts this season, and it is my endeavour to find her a suitable match.”

“I am capable of deciding for myself, brother. Shocking though it might be for you to discover, I am possessed of a brain.”

Hyunjin scoffed a laugh.

“I have already introduced her to the esteemed Lord Berbrooke,” Anthony said, quite ignorant. “I rather think him a strong candidate.”

“Berbrooke?” Hyunjin repeated. “Surely you cannot mean—”

“Mean what? You do not agree that he would make a reputable husband and provide for my sister well?” Anthony snapped.

Hyunjin nodded. “If that is where your concerns lie, I suppose.”

“I know well the reputations of all these men,” Anthony continued, casting a disapproving glare about the ballroom. “Not one of them has anything to recommend them to my sister as suitor, let alone husband. Their very names inspire scandal.”

“I think that a margin harsh, Bridgerton,” Hyunjin said. “Those in glass houses should not throw stones.”

“You think me like them?”

“I only hope that when the time comes for your search of a wife, you will not be beholden to the same kind of persecution. If visiting the gentleman’s clubs and such propensities are enough to deem a man unworthy of marriage, then not one in all of London shall ever wed!”

Anthony’s nostrils flared, his ego clearly struck.

“I merely think you worry unduly,” Hyunjin then added gently. “Your sister, like you, is a Bridgerton. Trust in her to make the right decision.”

How quickly you were growing to like this man— stunning beauty aside, you easily felt yourself warming by his glance and soft smile, his words so affirming. With a sigh and shrug, he patted your brother on the shoulder.

“If you would kindly excuse me, I believe I am quite spent for one night. We shall catch up, Bridgerton.”

He turned to you and bowed courteously, taking your hand to which he pressed a soft, reverential kiss.

“A pleasure,” he said.

With that, he strode off through the crowd, bodies parting for him and longing eyes following where yours too went.

Hwang Hyunjin, Duke of Hastings.

A pleasure, indeed.

*

The days that followed Lady Danbury’s ball were, by your own declaration, a torrent of misery.

Lord Berbrooke, spurred on by your brother’s approval, sought to court you every day, calling on the house to regale you with tales of his business and of his youth as a military man. Listening to the tales was not so painful as merely sitting with him, for the man seemed to possess no ideals of bathing or the benefits of pleasantly scented herbs to ease the eye-watering odour which he seemed to carry always— how vehemently you insisted on extra sprigs of lavender in the sitting room.

Your mother, adequately horrified by the entire affair, made her displeasure known to Anthony on multiple occasions and with increasing strength, and you might have found relief in it if you believed he would in any way relent. As it stood, there seemed no sign that he would budge on the matter of your betrothal to Berbrooke, and with such little power as you possessed, there appeared nothing to be done about it.

“Must I promenade with him, mother?” you asked wearily.

“Oh, my dear.” Your mother patted your cheek gently, affixed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I know this weighs heavily on you, but do as your brother says for now. I have not given up on changing his mind on all this.”

“I was declared the diamond of the season.” Your voice caught, breaking with tears. “Does that mean nothing to him?”

“It is difficult to see it now, but he simply wishes the best for you. For the family.”

“If he truly wished that, he would marry himself. He speaks of duty and honour, yet I see no such demonstration from him.”

Your mother looked on you sadly, her sympathetic eyes reflecting all you already knew— that when your emotions got the better of you, there was no assuaging to be done.

“It falls to you, my dear,” your mother said. “Show him that there are other men in the ton able to make for you an honourable husband. His prejudice blinds him, but if he sees how you try, perhaps he shall bend. There is nothing else for it.”

You sighed and blinked through the tears. Your mother wrapped her arms around you gently, the comfort of home so reassuring for its part.

“A diamond glitters no matter how dense the darkness,” she whispered. “This all shall pass. I promise.”

*

The summer morning was light and warm, the park in full and colourful bloom. Lush lawns of trimmed green dipped to embankments that circled the calm lake, where lords and ladies took tea and sweets as their chaperones and families looked on. Pastel parasols bobbed along the paths like buoys seeking land, the gentle breeze rustling their fringes redolent of freshly cut grass and sweet wildflowers; the essence of rosy, romantic summer.

Shame that it did not quite reach you, however, tucked under the shade of a tall birch where you stood sombrely and watched the enamoured couples promenade. Your brother lurked at your right-hand like the gargoyle he had taken to becoming, while your mother poised at your left.

“Perhaps we should walk a while, Anthony?” she asked. “It is such clement weather, it would do us good to—”

“We wait for Lord Berbrooke.”

Your heart sank.

“Anthony, please,” your mother entreated. “I am sure Lord Berbrooke shall find us. We look quite the lark, standing here uncomfortably. People are watching, you know.”

“Let them watch,” he sighed. “They shall see nothing of interest.”

And it was at that moment that a stroke of luck happened upon you.

“Lady Bridgerton?” A smooth, feminine voice said, puzzled. Your mother turned quickly, her face alight when she saw her good and old friend.

“Lady Danbury! How good to see you!”

Lady Danbury was, as ever, turned out as though the day might be her last. Deep purple satin made her frock, and her eccentricity shone through in the smart top hat wound with ribbons that perched on her head.

“Indeed,” Lady Danbury said, her look quizzical. “You are here to promenade?”

“We are,” your mother replied, and then quickly added, “We sought some shade from our walking. How hot it is today!”

“Walk with me, then. I am in need of good company.”

“We are awaiting someone—”

“Thank you, my lady,” you hastily took her on the offer, linking your mother’s arm before your brother could much more ruin things for you. Several steps out of the shade after her felt an immediate relief.

“You do not join us, Viscount?” Lady Danbury turned back to ask.

He shook his head stiltedly. “I shall see you on the way around.”

“As you like, then.”

With that, the three of you took to a delightful stroll about the lake, the clack of Lady Danbury’s cane timing your pleasant pace.

“How fares things, Lady Bridgerton?” Lady Danbury asked.

“Very well, thank you. And you?”

“Much the same. I must say; I did not expect to see the viscount in attendance at my ball. He so seldom involves himself in the social season. He is chaperoning this time?”

Your mother nodded. “He is.”

Lady Danbury laughed, gravelly yet soft. “He is giving you a time of it?”

“I do not wish to speak out of turn, Lady Danbury.”

“Nonsense. We are all women. Lord knows we cannot speak to the men of our strife— they are so often the cause of it!”

Your mother sighed. “Indeed. Well. I dare say he is—”

“He is forcing me into a marriage with Lord Berbrooke,” you said.

Lady Danbury quirked a brow. “I see.”

“He says the other men of the ton are unsuitable. That he knows their reputations and pastimes and that their names would invite scandal.”

“He is in search of a saint, then?”

“It certainly appears so.”

Your mother intervened. “He means well, Lady Danbury.”

“Of course. He takes the duties of his father seriously. One cannot resent him that.”

“But should he not trust my judgement on the matter of a husband? I wish to marry for love, Lady Danbury, as my parents did. As my sister did. Not for business. I have told him as such, yet he frightens all the men from me. Not one dares approach!”

Lady Danbury hummed. “It is indeed unfortunate that he has made the matter of your marriage his first course of business. Though it is not unheard of for such marriages of convenience to bloom in love. I can speak to this myself.”

“Lady Danbury.” You stopped. “I sooner see myself declaring madness than falling in love with that foul ogre of a man. I should rather live alone and spend my days as a spinster than—”

“Aunt!”

All eyes turned to the approaching gentleman that jogged gently across the lawn, his light blonde hair like silk about his shoulders. Yet more breathtaking in the glow of summer than the first you saw him, something felt as though to twist in your chest as the Duke of Hastings embraced Lady Danbury warmly, a kiss on each of her cheeks.

“I did not think to see you here, your grace,” she said.

“You may dispense with the formalities, aunt,” he laughed, then looked up to the sky. “I thought I might soak up the sunshine whilst it lasts. So rarely does it visit.”

“How agreeable. Walk with us then.” Lady Danbury turned to you and your mother. “You have met the Bridgertons?”

Hyunjin bowed courteously. “I have not had the pleasure of the matriarch,” he said. “How lovely to meet you.”

Your mother blushed scarlet when the man took her hand gently. “Y— Yes. Lovely.”

“And I believe we met at Lady Danbury’s ball, did we not, miss?” He directed the question to you, his eyes alight with something you could not read.

You nodded graciously. “We did, your grace.”

“Excellent. Let us walk, then.”

And so the promenade began again, with your mother and Lady Danbury taking to a leisurely pace ahead of yourself and Hyunjin. A respectable distance was maintained between you, and even so, you felt the warmth of the man through his smart navy two-piece that happened to fit him as though he had been birthed in it.

“I do not see your brother in attendance,” he said, hands clasped behind his back as he walked.

“He is here.”

“Ah. I shall see him later, then.”

A cluster of ladies gathered on the embankment giggled loudly— they were watching a fierce rowing competition on the lake between the men.

“Did you enjoy yourself at the ball?” Hyunjin asked.

“I did.”

“Good. I am glad to hear it. Only, you seemed rather out of sorts, is all.”

“You would have my brother to thank for that,” you sighed.

“I see. The matter of your matching?”

“Yes.”

“He still insists on Lord Berbrooke?”

“He does.”

Hyunjin shook his head.

“I do not wish to speak of it any longer,” you said. “Such grim topics spoil the day. Tell me of yourself, your grace. You are Lady Danbury’s nephew? By which side?”

The concern on his features did not so much abate, but he entertained you regardless.

“By neither. I call her my aunt, and she entreats me as her nephew, but we are not kin. She raised me just the same.”

 “I see. And your parents?”

His brows drew together, a visible swallow bobbing his throat. “Gone.”

“I am very sorry to hear that.”

“Sorry?” He quirked a brow. “You need not be. All transpired well, and I owe all I have now to Lady Danbury’s kindness. She is a good woman.”

A moment of silence elapsed, where the many questions you could pose to him rattled around your head like skittles. How many hours you could spend simply conversing with him!

“I understand your father is also passed?”

You nodded. “The memories I have of him are fond. My siblings and I were much too young to understand what happened at the time, but Anthony...” You swallowed. “He recalls all of it, but he does not speak of it.”

“Naturally. Such tragedies are better left to collect dust. We must move on.”

“Agreed.”

“Start our own families and begin new legacies.”

“Quite.” You chewed your inner cheek. “May I ask something, your grace?”

Hyunjin stopped, for the path had directed over a small, raised area that bridged a trickling stream. “Of course.”

“You are not married?”

“I am not.”

“Why?”

Hyunjin looked out to the larger lake, head tilted back for the sun to kiss his handsome features and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath.

“I have never felt the need,” he said simply.

“But what of starting your own legacy? Your own family?”

“I am all the family I need. And at the risk of sounding pompous, my legacy is already well established. There are not many that do not know the Duke of Hastings and all he owns.”

“And what will you leave behind? What of an heir?”

“My estates and assets shall be donated on occasion of my death.”

“What of love?”

He opened his eyes, the almond flecks of hazel catching in the sunlight. So unthinkably stunning was he, your own breath caught short in your throat and seemed as though to seize. Such strange sensation made you flush with heat— Hyunjin smiled softly.

“Might I speak freely, my lady?”

You merely nodded, awestruck.

“You might think me mad, but it strikes me that we might be able to help one another.”

“H— Help?”

“Your brother is insistent on this arrangement with Berbrooke, yes?”

“Yes.”

“He will only relent to a man whose reputation he can respect? Whom he knows well?”

“I suppose.”

Hyunjin stepped closer, his voice a hush over the breeze. “As you know, it was my aunt that ordained my return to the ton for the season,” he said. “I could not well refuse her. But she is with motive. She hopes to secure me a wife, and now that the idea is upon her, it shall remain. Like you, I have tried to reason with her as to my feelings on the matter, but she is not to be convinced.”

“I see...”

“I propose we work together,” he continued. “Allow me to court you, and not only shall it satisfy my dear aunt that I am making attempts to marry and thus keep her eyes from me, but it shall assuage your brother’s worry as to your match. He and I are old friends; he cannot dispute that I am, for my part, a good man. He shall have no choice but to call off this arrangement with Berbrooke.”

“B— But, surely if you are seen to be courting me, I shall be kept even further from the attentions of other men?”

“On the contrary, my lady. There is nothing men covet more than that which his wealthy neighbour possesses. Once the ton hears of my attentions toward you, men will come from every constituency to court you. They shall clamour for your hand whether Anthony approves or not.”

It made sense. Oh, how much sense it made, but how much scandal it might provoke! To partake in a ruse such as this was unheard of, unthought of, entirely unlike you in most every way. And yet here you were, considering such proposition from a man you knew scarcely, save for that his face was carved by angels.

“What say you, my lady?” he asked softly, gloved hand discreetly offered.

What had you to lose, save a fate of spinsterhood and destitution?

“Very well.” You slipped your hand into his; he squeezed it tenderly, and your heart did something most bizarre. “You have a deal, your grace.”

“Excellent,” he smiled. “Though I must make one thing abundantly clear.”

You quirked a brow, still clasping his hand.

“This is an arrangement of business. We must not let our emotions interfere.”

“Meaning what, your grace?”

“Meaning...” He released your hand. “You must not fall in love with me, my lady.”

Your laugh was as forceful as the weight that sank your chest; he told you nothing noteworthy, for you knew how he spurned marriage and love. Yet to hear him say it seemed so sad. A waste of so much.

“You flatter yourself, Duke.”

“Perhaps. Just so long as we are clear.”

“We are clear.”

He nodded graciously. “Very well then. I look forward to working with you.”

*

“The Duke of Hastings is here to call on Miss Bridgerton.”

Your mother leapt up from her knitting, the ball of yarn rolling across the floor as her needles clattered.

“What!?” she cried. “My goodness! Say again?!”

The servant cleared their throat, and once more said, “The Duke of Hastings is here to call on Miss Bridgerton, my lady.”

What ensued was nothing short of a flurry of hysterical panic; servants ordered to furnish the sitting room with tea and refreshments and fetch the nicest doilies should the duke wish to set his teacup on any near surface. Such effort was neglected for the visits of Lord Berbrooke, and as you watched the chaos with a smile, it felt that the season of romance you always wished for might finally be starting. Such thoughts you really ought to have kept in check, for as you too often forgot: all of this was a pretence.

“Good morning, ladies.”

With a grand bouquet of lilac lilies—the favourites of his aunt, you noted—the duke was welcomed into the sitting room. Never had he looked more dashing, his three-piece suit of stone-grey clinging most pleasingly to where his frame betrayed lean, toned muscle. He was so tall as to stoop when he greeted your mother, his long legs stretching the britches that themselves seemed to struggle to contain the elegant length.

“What a wonderful surprise!” your mother gushed.

“I hope I do not impose upon you, Lady Bridgerton.”

“No, no! You are most welcome, your grace! Come, sit! Would you care for tea? Perhaps a sweet? Or anything else at all?”

After the frantic attendance of your mother had eased and you were left to the man’s company (inasmuch as ‘left’ occasioned; your mother merely retired to the other side of the sitting room, where she knitted and pretended not to listen), you thought of what to talk about. Indeed, it all seemed rather contrite when the arrangement bore an expiration date.

“You are radiant this morning, Miss Bridgerton,” he said graciously from beside you on the chaise longue.

“You need not flatter me, your grace.” Though the flush of heat up your neck betrayed your inward delight. “No doubt news of your calling on me has already begun to travel over the ton. The servants do miraculous work.”

“It was no attempt at flattery, my lady, but as you wish.”

While you clawed your heart back from your throat, he looked about the room, his eyes falling to the book that rested on the table; an encyclopaedic work on native birds.

“You read, my lady?”

“I like to.”

Hyunjin smiled.

“It amuses you that I like to read? Should I sit before the window and vegetate from sunrise to sunset instead?”

“I am not the sort that finds intelligent women distressing, my lady. If I thought you ill-educated, I would not have approached you in the first.”

You cleared your throat. “I see.”

“You doubt me?”

“No, your grace. You strike me as a sincere man.”

“Good. I am glad.”

“Though I do wonder why you prefer to partake in such ruse with me,” you whispered, “when you could simply do things the right way, as your aunt wishes.”

“The right way?”

You shrugged. “Meet someone and fall in love.”

“I have addressed this already. I do not wish to marry.”

“I was not speaking of marriage. I speak of love.”

“I thought you believed the two not mutually exclusive?”

“I do not, but why would one ever refrain from marrying the person they love? Such a course of action must be madness.”

“Love is a childish affair that makes hapless fools of better men and hysterical crones of good women. I have no need of it.”

“I dare say anyone has need of it, your grace. It is hardly a lame horse. I am rather inclined to believe it simply... happens. Whether one wishes for it or not.”

Hyunjin blinked, the muscle of his jaw feathering as it tensed, then relaxed. He held your gaze, almond eyes focused.

“I find it rather lovely, actually,” you added. “That there exists an emotion powerful enough to make one wish to change the course of their life. Love should be celebrated.”

“You speak as though you yourself have felt it, my lady.”

“I have not,” you sighed. “I know only what I have read of and seen, in my sister and in my parents. But I most desperately wish to feel it. I wish that all those I care for will one day feel it.”

“You have been surrounded by goodness, it seems,” Hyunjin said. “You should count yourself lucky.”

“Oh, I do, your grace. I am most grateful for all my parents have provided my siblings and I. They have raised us well, in love and luxury. I should be eternally grateful.”

“Indeed. Not all are so blessed.”

You searched his face, for he had averted it to the window, and what you could make of his expression had drawn sombre.

“Your grace?”

He shook his head and smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. “My apologies. Pay me no mind.”

He rose from your side, and on sight of him doing so, your mother rose too, setting her stitching aside.

“You are leaving, your grace?” she asked.

“I have taken up quite enough of Miss Bridgerton’s time,” he said with a bow. “Thank you for entertaining me, my lady.”

He took your hand and with the pillowy lips you had so vehemently thought to ignore, pressed a chaste kiss to your gloved knuckle. So reverent and tender was the suggestion, you could not help but wonder if the show was entirely necessary when only your mother was in attendance to see it— you ought to have spared your heart the misery.

 “I shall call again tomorrow, if I may?” he asked, directing the question to your mother, who watched the exchange with delighted quiet.

“Of course, your grace. We should be honoured to have you again. Any time.”

“Very well, then.” He bowed once more. “Until tomorrow, ladies. Good day.”

With that, he availed himself of your company, and for the coming hours you suffered the titillated chatter of your mother to the servants and your siblings, to all who would listen of the wonderful, wonderful news that ‘the Duke of Hastings is courting my darling daughter! What beautiful children they shall be blessed with! Oh, but I knew how it would be! What happy days!’

What happy days, indeed.

*

The next most prominent event of the season was to be the observatory ball— an affair organised by the dowagers of the ton, long since removed from the formal romance of the social season and with nothing more engaging to occupy them.

Chaperoned by your ever dutiful brother, though his presence did more to harden your heart than bear assurance, it was with some misery that you entered the stunning glass building, unable fully to appreciate the opulence that dripped from every pillar and awning in shows of white flowers and delicate lace. A great mural of intricate symbols had been painted white on the dance floor, where several couples had taken to spinning already. Spirits seemed to be high, infecting the evening air with a great buzz of anticipation. You felt it yourself, despite your brother’s attempts to act the aegis. Something would happen tonight. Something that would change everything.

“I see no sign of Berbrooke,” your brother huffed from your side, casting focused glances about the guests. “He assured me he would be in attendance tonight.”

“I should rejoice if he fails to show up entirely,” you sighed.

“Such pessimism is most unbecoming of a lady, sister. You ought to be more congenial.”

“I could have until judgement day and not muster enough congeniality to offer that man even a single smile, brother.”

Anthony blinked at you, his dark eyes in astonishment.

“I should like to say hello to the other ladies,” you said, starting away from him. “Do not follow me.”

For what reason your brother this time chose to comply, you could not guess at, but you indeed considered that the occasional speaking out of turn impacted men more than you initially believed.

In crossing the observatory and passing under white wreaths of berries and flora, you sought the lemonade stand, in truth none thirsty for a drink, but possessed of some hope that a gentleman might spy you alone and summon the courage to approach for a dance. Minutes passed where no such thing occurred, and it was just as you began to sink into depths of sadness, that a rash clearing of throat from behind you caught your attention.

“Miss Bridgerton.”

The Duke of Hastings stood before you, most dashing in a red velvet suit finished with black trim. His light hair tucked behind both ears seemed comprised of silk itself, and his countenance most relaxed, yet strong and firm, brought you to a smile.

“Your grace,” you curtseyed politely, despite the weakness of knees. “How wonderful to see you.”

He cast an eye that might have been interpreted as critical over you, a smile caught on the curve of his lips.

“You look lovely,” he said.

“Thank you, your grace. As do you.”

“I look lovely?”

“Quite lovely. I thought velvet a dated material, but I appear forced to reconsider my opinion.”

“Did I not have the measure of you, Miss Bridgerton, I might be inclined to believe that a veiled insult.”

“I am not in the business of veiling my insults, your grace. Should I ever mean to insult you, you shall know it.”

His eyes glimmered with amusement. “Noted.” He offered you his arm to take. “Shall we dance?”

“Can you dance, your grace?”

“I am educated in formal baroque. So, yes.”

“Very well, then.”

You took his arm, a wave of unhindered delight threatening to outweigh your sensibility as he walked you to the floor, turning curious heads as you went. The instrumental band played an upbeat melody, one that had the occupants of the floor dancing the menuet in two lines of ladies and gentlemen. Joining the end of the respective lines, you fell easily into the steps, swaying both away from and towards the men that captivated your attentions. By now it was no wonder that most eyes in the observatory were on the two of you, your brother’s included. Smiling through the bout of anxiety, it was in taking Hyunjin’s hand again that the melody changed to allow for a slower, closer dance, which was of no small relief. It felt better to be close to him.

“Do you possess such strong opinion of all fabrics, Miss Bridgerton?” he asked quietly, the arm floating about your waist hardly touching.

“I am educated in textiles, your grace. So, yes.”

He smiled wryly. “I see. Allow me to consult you on the matter of my attire from time to time, then.”

“If it pleases your grace.”

“It does. Are you inclined to fashion, my lady?”

“Not particularly. Mother insists on engaging me with the modiste for gowns and the like, and I am able to appreciate a pretty dress as much as the next lady, but I much prefer the employment of a book or my sewing. Such stimulating things brings me great peace. The fancies of fashion seem only to bring me a headache.”

“In that, we are in agreement, my lady.” His smile widened to a grin, and in the lingering eye contact you went through the steps of dance, his smile gradually diminished to more serious appearance.

“All eyes are on us, your grace,” you whispered.

“Indeed. That is the point. Your name shall be on every gentleman’s lips for the remainder of the eve; the remainder of the season. You recall our bargain?”

“I do.”

“Then you understand why I thought it prudent to attend tonight. To dance with you before all the ton.”

You nodded gently, the heat of his hand in yours a most distracting sensation. He led you easily and without too much thought, the coming together of your movements a most natural and intimate event. Too intimate to be watched by those present, you rather thought.

“You do not seem pleased.”

“What?”

He searched your face. “I thought the prospect of your popularity renewing would delight you.”

You shook your head. “It does. I just… I fear that Anthony shall not take this well.”

“Be assured, Miss Bridgerton. As I have already explained, Anthony is a good and old friend of mine. He shall find no objection to our courting, and if by some means he should, it matters not. We are pretending. The fruits of our labours have already begun to yield. Look there.”

With a careful glance to your right, you saw the cluster of gentlemen that looked eagerly on at your prance with the duke, curiosity lighting their eyes. Nowhere, however, did you spy your brother.

“They already covet what belongs to another,” Hyunjin whispered, voice low above the shell of your ear. “They are none deterred by your brother, nor by me. You shall have your love match, Miss Bridgerton, and I shall be left in blissful peace from the naggings of my aunt.”

A cool unease set upon you, though you smiled as though in gratitude all the same. What it was in aid of, you could not say; only that you felt it, and not even the warmth of the man that imposed upon you so closely could ease it.

The dance gradually ended and you ruefully stepped away from the viscount, and near immediately were you accosted not by the gentlemen that had watched you from afar, keenly counting their chance, but by the footman that manned your carriage.

“Miss Bridgerton, forgive the interruption—”

“Whatever is it?”

“The Viscount has sent me to escort you home, my lady,” he said.

“Home?” You looked about the observatory. “Where is my brother?”

“He has already retired, my lady, in another carriage.”

“What for?”

“I could not say, my lady. He did seem…”

“He seemed what?”

“W— Well. Upset, my lady? I could not well say why—”

You turned to the duke, who until now had listened sombrely. He met your gaze, and though his smile was meant to offer reassurance, it did no such thing.

“It seems you are required elsewhere, Miss Bridgerton,” he said quietly. “I bid you goodnight.”

“Y— Yes. Goodnight, then,” you said, quite bewildered by your thickness of voice.

“I shall call on you tomorrow.”

“Very well.”

With a curtsy, you began away from him, following the footman through the gathering of lords and ladies that parted for your exit. It did not so much feel like a fall as a long, drawn-out dive into ice cold water.

One from which you might never surface, if you could not find your feet to swim.

*

“The Duke of Hastings is here to call on Miss—”

“Show him in at once!”

This time prepared for the duke’s visit and much inflated by the tale of your dancing with him at the observatory ball (though painful were her lamentations on not witnessing said event), your mother had the sitting room so immaculately arranged with flowers and garlands and refreshments more than anyone present could eat. It was no wonder the man stopped short and broke composure with an inquisitive smile in your direction. One that you could not well return for being awed by his smart dress and handsome composure.

Your mother first approached, greeting him warmly. “You are most welcome, duke. Good morning to you.”

“Good morning, indeed, Lady Bridgerton. How does it find you?”

“Very well, your grace. Very well. There is something of the summer that inspires a skip in one’s step, do you not agree?”

“Quite. I find the season most agreeable.” He turned to you. “I thought I might accompany Miss Bridgerton on a walk about your courtyard, actually. If it pleases her.”

“It most certainly would please her!” Your mother gushed. “Wouldn’t it, my dear?”

You nodded graciously, taken with the suggestion. “I would love to, your grace.”

And so, your mother watched from over her book, under the shaded terrace as you and the duke took to a congenial stroll through the greenery of the courtyard. Bowing willows and hedges aligned flower beds of daises and sunflowers; favourites of your mother to nurture.

“I must thank you for last night, your grace,” you said when out of your mother’s earshot. “The dance was most effective. Though I regret I could not speak to any gentlemen afterwards, I dare say I shall not be lacking for choice at the next social event.”

“You need not thank me, Miss Bridgerton. I am simply upholding my end of the bargain.”

“Of course.”

A moment of silence passed, where you thought of how to word your next question.

“I thought you might have begun to reconsider, in truth.”

“Reconsider?”

“Our… bargain.”

He chuckled. “Why should I reconsider that?”

“Ideas of gulling are often more agreeable in concept than practice. One would be forgiven for having second thoughts. You owe me nothing, after all.”

“I act not out of the goodness of my heart, my lady,” he said. “As I have said, this arrangement benefits me also. Why; after the ball my aunt visited the manor to express her delight on the news of our apparent involvement, and this morning I was subsequently spared from the ritual of rejecting her many offers of introductions to eligible matches.”

“Goodness. One forgets how quickly news travels about the ton.”

“Indeed. So you see, our ruse yields results. I should have no reason to withdraw.”

A quaint, white pagoda nestled at the back of the lawn, its benches warmed by the sunlight that bathed it. Hyunjin gestured to it.

“Shall we sit?”

With a nod, you followed him to the structure, taking up a seat. Hyunjin paced a moment before sitting near, his composure unsettled.

“Is there something on your mind, your grace? Mother is still able to see us, you may rest assured—”

“No, my lady. Apologies. It is not that which vexes me.”

“You are vexed?”

“Since hearing of your brother’s plans and how Lord Berbrooke might fit into them, I have felt unsettled.”

You laughed unceremoniously. “In that, we are the same. He is a most detestable man.”

“You know something of him?”

“I know less than nothing, your grace, and I could not wish more for matters to remain that way.”

“Then, your revulsion—if that is not too strong a word—”

“It is not.”

“Comes from where?”

You wrinkled your nose and thought on it, then simply shrugged. “A feeling.”

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes. “A feeling?”

“Yes. I become quite uneasy when he is near. Something of his manner offends me, and though I speak baselessly, he strikes me as the sort of man that would have no qualms conducting himself improperly. He makes me most uncomfortable.”

“I see.” He crossed his legs, his foot bobbing as he thought, and then said, “His reputation is quite astounding, you know. To speak to other men of him is to listen to them sing his praises. He is known for being kind and wealthy. Of good repute. It is no wonder Anthony approves.”

“And yet?”

“And yet, I am inclined to echo your sentiments, my lady. There is an air of foulness about him. The thought of leaving you in his company unchaperoned irks me greatly.”

So simple a statement, and so rapidly did your heart flutter to it. You pinched your wrist, an effort to ground yourself.

“Make assurances to me that you shall not put yourself in such a situation,” he said firmly.

“Your grace?”

“I do not wish for you to be left unattended with him.”

You scoffed through the thumping that rose to your throat. “I— I can hardly control such a circumstance.”

“Then if you find yourself in such a one, remove yourself from it swiftly. Find me. Find anyone. I cannot emphasise enough how strongly I feel on this. I do not jest.”

He held your gaze, the determination there enough to convey sincerity in his words, for you felt it rolling from him in a great wave of warmth.

“As you wish, your grace,” you said quietly.

He nodded, seemingly satisfied. A moment of silence passed, where the blackbirds from their perches tweeted their melodious tune as they basked in the sun, and the clean, fresh breeze swept your skin. Natural it was that thoughts should wander to the impossible future; how pleasant many more days like this would be, spent in his company, be they silent or not.

“May I ask something, your grace?”

He nodded, his hands clasped as he reposed on the bench.

“When last we spoke at Bridgerton house, you seemed troubled.”

“Troubled? I do not recall.”

“We were discussing family. How I was raised to the example of a loving marriage, and how grateful I should be for that.”

Hyunjin’s jaw set firm. “I see. Yes. It comes back to me now.” He swallowed. “I suppose something of the topic did trouble me, if I am to be truthful.”

“Why, your grace?”

“It is hardly a tale for such a fine day.”

“Then should we wait for it to rain? I believe autumn to be a long way from now, your grace.”

He rose from the bench, shoulders squaring as he strolled to the balustrade and looked out over the green.

“You may speak freely,” you said. “I would not have asked if I did not wish to hear it.”

“And I am grateful that your curiosity implores you to ask anything of me at all, my lady,” he sighed. “But all I would have you know at this moment is that…” He turned to you, golden strands drifting about his face. “Is that I was not so privileged as you in my upbringing. Lady Danbury did her best for me, and as I have already stated, I am eternally grateful for her kindness, but mine was not a loving childhood. My father was possessed of firm expectations and did not suffer fools easily. He bore no love for my mother. Theirs was a transactional marriage, and it costed my mother more than she should ever have had to pay.”

To hear him speak so candidly did more to move you than you had hitherto thought it could, and this was none aided by the pain in his eyes.

“Your grace…”

“That is all I wish to say of it,” he said, voice thick. “You understand.”

And though burning with so much more than curiosity as a result of his opening the door, albeit only a crack, you could not well press him further.

“Of course,” you smiled.

He nodded, took a deep breath, looked out over the green and up at the sky, where the sunlight warmed his face. What pain he lived through shaped him, you supposed, and though it could have made him cruel and cold, he did not seem so.

“We should return indoors,” he eventually said. “Before the heat sends us queer.”

“Yes. Let’s.”

Slowly you returned to the house, shoulders brushing innocently, steps taken in time. You were in no rush to be done with his company, and by his gait, neither was he.

“Done already?” your mother called when you were near. “I suppose it is thirsty work! Come, we have lemonade prepared!”

“You are most kind, Lady Bridgerton.”

Lemonade was taken in the sitting room, deliciously fragrant and refreshing, cooling your sensibilities that always seemed to warm beyond reason when the duke was near. Too easy was it to forget that this entire charade was precisely that when he acted with such dedication.

“Hwang? What on earth are you doing here?”

Hyunjin rose immediately, lemonade set aside.

“Viscount. Good to see you.”

Anthony’s expression stern, he hardly returned the sentiment. His question hung in the air unanswered, and so Hyunjin cleared his throat.

“I thought to call on your sister,” he said. “Lady Bridgerton has been a most gracious chaperone—”

“A word. Outside.”

*

Hyunjin hadn’t much considered that Anthony might protest his courting of his sister. He had rather been counting on the opposite. Silly, really, that it only struck him as he exited the Bridgerton house to the rear courtyard, where the viscount paced strongly back and forth.

“Explain yourself,” he said. “Immediately.”

“I have given you explanation.”

“You call on my sister? What for?”

“What do men call upon women during the social season for?” Hyunjin scoffed.

“I forbid it.”

“What?”

Anthony stopped, his stance stiff. “To dance with her last night was insult enough, but to now call on her at our family home is an abject act of mockery. You make a fool of me. You will cease your attempts to court her. I forbid it.”

“Anthony, old friend, you have lost yourself. Surely you cannot object to—”

“I have every reason to object,” he hissed, now stepping closer. “You think I do not recall the days of university? How loose you were? How the life and soul of the party and all its debauchery begun and ended with you? And that is to speak nothing of what ‘business’ you have been engaging in abroad these last years. I will not have such improper affairs connected to my family.”

Hyunjin’s jaw ticked. “I was hardly alone in the days of our youth, Anthony. As I recall, you were as much partial to the liquor and women as I. I could say the same of your present day conduct.”

“Do not attempt to turn this back on me. My virtue is not the one in question.”

“Perhaps it should be.”

“You walk on thin ice, Hwang. This is my sister we are discussing. She is my responsibility. She is family. Do what you must with whatever women take your fancy of the eve, but do not come into my family home with pretences of doing right by her. I know you.”

“I do not profess to being without fault,” Hyunjin said. “But is a man not allowed to change? Do you not think I would take the greatest care imaginable of her? Even more so for the bond that exists between us?”

Anthony’s nostrils flared. “You have no interest in marriage. Have said as such since I have known you. That cannot have changed with but a few chance encounters. There is something afoot—”

“Anthony, for heaven’s sake—”

“There is something afoot.” He said resolutely. “And I shall not allow you to drag my sister into scandal and discontent. Keep your distance from her.”

With a final glare, he about-faced and stormed across the courtyard. A gathering of darkened clouds drifted across the pellucid sky, blotting the summer sun.

“You shall not keep me from her, Bridgerton,” Hyunjin called, his voice clear and unwavering.

Anthony stopped, turned back.

“Then we shall settle this by our honour. Friend.”

*

Next day, the Duke of Hastings endeavoured to call on you once more, this time without himself making an appearance.

His horse and carriage trotted up to the steps of your home, where a page disembarked with clear instructions that he read aloud to you and your flustered mother.

“The Duke of Hastings cordially invites Lady Bridgerton and Miss Bridgerton to take tea and refreshments at his manor this morning until noon, and if it pleases your ladyships, would be most honoured to host them for dinner.”

So it was that your mother accompanied you in the duke’s carriage for a journey that lasted three quarters of an hour, the duration of which she chatted excitedly and showered praises on the duke for the ‘most proper’ occasion. Indeed, it stopped only when you arrived before the grand entrance of a stunning country manor— a quintessential summer home surrounded by blooming nature.

Escorted by servants up the steps and into the lobby where you were received by yet another entourage of house staff, you were much awed by the state of the place— while indeed impressive and grand on most every imaginable scale, it radiated something of a cold loneliness. Perceptible only to you, perhaps, for your mother’s delight was none dampened.

“What a beautiful home!” she gushed adoringly. “How the duke must love to spend his summers here, don’t you think, my dear?”

As though invited by mention of his rank, the duke stepped out from an adjoining room, his dress casual in light of residing at home. The white shirt that was tucked loosely into black britches hung open at the neckline, revealing a slope of skin that to your starved mind, seemed most illicit.

“Lady Bridgerton,” he beamed, stepping forward to greet your mother. “I do hope you will allow my state of dress; I measured that making this a more casual affair might help us get to know one another better. Formalities so often stiffen things, I find.”

“Of course! Naturally! How honoured we are by the invitation, your grace! We thank you most kindly.”

“Nonsense. You honour me with your presence, my lady. You have hosted me graciously before now. It seemed only right I return the favour. Please, come through.”

To the sitting room you were shown where tea was served, and expecting that the duke might lavish on you the attentions you were (perhaps foolishly) becoming accustomed to, you were disappointed to feel somewhat surplus to requirement, as he instead made your mother the focus of discussion. They talked contentedly of their interests, and covered most topics you yourself would have liked to unravel with the duke, but your mother seemed none perturbed by your stoic silence and occasional input in the form of a forced smile here or there. When conversation moved to that of your late father, so directed by the duke, you found the role of wallflower had rather overstayed its welcome.

You set your teacup aside and rose from sitting. “Might I be excused, your grace?”

Hyunjin blinked. “My lady?”

“I would very much like to walk the grounds, if I may. It displeases me to be cooped up indoors on so lovely a day.”

Nary a second did you wait for his answer, making a swift exit out the room and through the luxurious reception. Outside, the summer sun warmed the stone and grass, its radiant caress doing something to ease the discomfort that appeared to have driven you to such impatience.

You began to walk, neither direction nor destination in mind. Quickly at first, as your inward distress dictated, and then slower as you approached the hedgerows that formed a snug path into a winding maze. How odd you felt; at such unrest but unable to pinpoint why. Was it that Hyunjin’s attentions had been solely for entertaining your mother? Was it this place, that exuded such outward beauty but felt so void of joy or hearth? Was it simply your own mind endeavouring to play tricks?

These thoughts you mulled over as you walked the narrow paths of the maze, sunlit corridors shaded by keen, leafy branches that had grown beyond their remit. Gravel crunched beneath your feet, the air warmed your skin, and after a while of strolling, it seemed your nerves began to settle.

“Miss Bridgerton!”

Until they spiked once more. From around the corner of a hedgerow, the duke appeared, concern etched to his face the like of which you’d never seen. A jacket had been thrown about his shoulders, but did little to conceal the thin cotton of his gaping shirt and toned planes of skin beneath. You cursed your fluttering heart.

“I searched all the grounds for you,” he said breathlessly, stopping a foot from your person. “You had me worried.”

“Whatever for?” you laughed. “I am quite safe here, am I not?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Concern yourself none, your grace. Return to my mother. No doubt she awaits your undivided attentions.”

With a curt nod, you rounded the man and walked beyond him.

“You are upset,” he said pointedly, following.

“I am no such thing.”

“Have I neglected you this morning, my lady?”

“That you ask at all means you are aware of the answer. Do not toy with me, your grace. I find no amusement in it.”

“My apologies. It was not my intention to offend.”

“Your apology is unnecessary. You owe me nothing. This is a business deal. My frustration is my own; I am the fool for allowing emotion to become me.”

“Is one not allowed to become emotional over business?”

“You were the one dictated that we must approach this rationally, your grace.”

“I dictated on the matter of love, my lady. I spoke nothing of other emotions.”

“Well, then. This being my first business venture, I am none equipped to answer your question. You should be the one to tell me. Have you ever wept for a deal gone awry?”

Hyunjin bounded several steps ahead, putting himself in your path. Narrower still the natural corridors became, and unable to circumvent him easily, you stopped. His eyes softened, yet the concern held firm. So able to take your breath away with a mere look.

“You have been weeping?” he asked softly.

You shook your head. “No, your grace.”

“Good. There is no need. I have my reasons for tending to your mother so closely.”

“Such as?”

“Such as ensuring our deal does not go awry,” he said. “Lady Bridgerton’s approval may yet sway Anthony to us. Her support is important.”

“I thought you were assured that Anthony would approve of you?”

Hyunjin’s jaw ticked. “Yes. Well. I was.”

“And are not now?”

“Circumstances have changed. It seems he does not hold me with the regard I presumed upon.”

You cocked your head. “And why would that be?”

“It matters not.”

“Do not withhold from me, your grace. If there is something I should know—”

“You need know only what I share with you,” he said sternly. “I am loath to have one more Bridgerton persecute me by their astute moral compass.”

Taken aback by the outburst, you folded your arms, confident in the face of his glare.

“Might my brother disapprove because you are, in truth, no better than the men he is so prejudiced against? Because you too visit the gentleman’s clubs and gallivant your affections listlessly? Because you, just like my brother, have a violent discontent for the honest institution of marriage that you thought you could well conceal, but have inevitably failed to?”

Hyunjin blinked as though struck. His glare faded, his stance easing.

“Honestly.” You shook your head. “To be spared from the ridiculous egos of men for just a day would be too grand a wish.”

With that, you moved to dismiss him, rounding his side closely, and as though your proximity awakened him, he swiftly turned and caught your wrist.

“Your grace—”

“You presume much about me,” he said, an edge to his voice that felt near sinister. He took a step closer; you retreated to feel hedge at your back. Your heart pounded, pulse leaping about your throat. “I will not suffer such insult of character from a girl fed by silver spoon. You know nothing of me— nothing of what I have suffered or the lengths I must attend to warm my bed when sleep eludes me every single night.” He leaned in, so close as for his breath to fan over your lips. “But I imagine you should like to find out, my lady.”

Such vitriol laced the address as to make your stomach turn over, yet it was not with fear. A heat had begun to bloom in the lowest recesses of your belly, and even lower still, a region of your body as yet utterly sheltered.

“Do I speak falsely?” he asked.

Never had you experienced the sensation of standing on a precipice. The meagre shake of your head betrayed your wants, for truly, you did wish to find out. Hyunjin smirked, his gaze dropping to your lips.

“When I am alone in my bed, and all is dark and the world has left me, I am haunted by demons that whisper of my mistakes. They come to me when I am vulnerable, and I am ill-equipped to drive them away, so I indulge them— some of them. Those of them that promise to sing me to sleep should I give them just a moments’ attention. I drift with them, and they take me to where I might find comfort in the quick warmth of flesh.” He lifted his hand, brought his fingertip to your throat. Barely a touch, yet you could not breathe. “I chase pleasure, my lady, exerting myself in the act until my limbs give out and my mind is a chasm of emptiness.”

Your chest heaved for breath. His finger ran down your neck, to your decolletage, along the seam of your bodice that pressed tightly to your bosom.

“If that condemns me as a wicked man, so be it,” he muttered.

Over your breast and to your stomach did his finger draw a tender line, his attention solely focused on your every miniscule reaction. If inside, you felt to combust, he surely would have known it.

“But I assure you— to be condemned feels unlike anything you have ever experienced, sweet girl.”

Faces so close you could make out the pores of his skin, it was a mortifying whimper that escaped you when the man wrapped an arm around your waist, propping you against the hedge well with his thigh wedged snug between your legs; so forceful as to liquidate your bones, and you were helpless to resist, honour and virtue be damned. A flex of the muscle—even cushioned by your frock and petticoat—was felt distinctly, and the heat in your belly sank and gathered, quivering with anticipation. You ran hot under the skin, unable to grasp a lungful of air, for the man was so close that all sensation was of him. Him— so unthinkably beautiful and strong, wealthy and good.

Him. So utterly unattainable.

“Is this good enough, my lady?” he whispered.

“I... What?”

“Have you enough of my affection to curb your jealousy?”

You could hardly think rationally, unable to make sense of the words.

“This shall be the last time we find ourselves alone together.”

Too cruelly did he disentangle himself to leave you collapsed on the grass. With his jacket rearranged and a surreptitious pull of his britches (for what reason, you knew not), he stalked off through the maze.

How intemperately your heart thundered as you gathered yourself.

How hopelessly you were falling for the man that spurned love.

*

The duke had made a terrible mistake.

What sort of a fool betrays his own values so spectacularly as he? To scheme a ruse that would fool the ton and his aunt was one thing. To fall into it himself was quite another. For he was adamant on the matter of love and all its facets; he needed it not and would reject it until the day he met his end, grisly as it would probably be. He would not be the man that repeated his fathers’ mistakes.

She was just a girl. A Bridgerton girl, yes, and thus generally set apart from the wider female populace for good reasons pertaining to her beauty and wit, but still— just a girl. Diamond or not, she knew nothing of the world or its evils, nothing of life beyond what existed in her small and sheltered bubble. She could offer him no excitement of culture or music, language or arts beyond what she had read of in her books, and yet she excited him greatly; more so than any other woman he had yet met, and among those ranks stood singers and actresses, designers and poets, women of real repute.

What possessed him to impose upon her like that? Had he lost the last of his wits? Was he so frustrated in desire that he simply moved for the nearest outlet? Somehow, he knew better. It was neither in his nature nor his want to objectify so blatantly, heated confession as to his proclivities notwithstanding. He kept company through the darker nights when madness threatened his door, and if for that, Anthony was intent on shunning him, there was little he could ultimately do. He could only pray that her lingering in his thoughts would pass, and was due to stress or some other such imbalance of the mind— the sooner this season was over and he could return overseas to normalcy, the better.

Thankful that Lady Bridgerton deemed it best they return home for dinner for reasons pertaining to the youngest of her brood, the duke sat in his study and made work of his third whiskey. Try as he might, he could not stop his thoughts from wandering. The softness of her gaze tormented him; how closely her eyes seemed to plead for something she knew nothing of but would weep with pleasure to discover. What care he would take of her, so soft and sweet and delicate. What delightful sounds she would make, akin to the small whimper she let slip when he exacted just a meagre tenth of the desire that frothed inside him. She was perfectly untouched, as pure as winter’s first snow, begging to be undone by his hand though she spoke not a single word. With her, it would be so much more than a means to an end. He might even enjoy it. No— he would.

The swelling in his groin betrayed his lust— a first for him that such thoughts alone were capable of rousing him to occasion, but so was all of this new. Never before had he craved to corrupt such innocence. Never before had he felt such innocence craved it just as much, for there was no pretence of want in her eyes that morning, and he knew it well. He knew it awfully.

He knew it would all end in pain.

*

Several days passed with an absence of the duke. Your lamentation was quiet.

Not so concerned were you with the matter of your virtue, for by conventional standards and as far as you understood it, nothing tangible had occurred between you in the maze. A closeness of proximity could hardly condemn one to spinsterhood. Rather, you found yourself much yearning for the man. Missing him. Ludicrous, for he was naught but a business partner, and an effective one at that.

Gentlemen called on you sporting bouquets and gifts of sweets, all of them most preferable to the ogre that was Lord Berbrooke— whom coincidentally, you had neither seen nor heard from since the duke had made his ‘affections’ for you public. Sometimes as many as five gentlemen a day made their introductions, and you found yourself quite spent by dusk.

“They are all most pleasant suitors, I do not dispute that,” said your mother over supper. “I merely observe that they do not have much to recommend them compared to the Duke of Hastings. I dare imagine there is a man that would!”

And so in the matter of your mother’s approval, it seemed the duke had excelled. A shame that it would ultimately come to nothing, and doubly shameful that you could not bring yourself to sway her to thoughts of one of the many men that had imposed upon you, for you could do no such thing yourself. Try as you might, it seemed not one of them was able to rid you of thoughts of the duke. Perhaps the right one had not yet come along, you reasoned. It seemed not so mammoth a task to be turned from a man that did not even want you, after all. Your heart could not be long for him, if it even was at all, for you knew not what love felt like and could just as easily draw these sensations up to a peculiar turn of health— which would certainly explain the bouts of fever and giddy breathlessness you experienced in his presence.

All this you considered during the carriage ride to the midsummer ball, hosted at the queen’s own residence in the country. Last year it had been the topic of much excitable talk about the ton, and this year stood to be no different. Arriving at dusk to the mansion that boasted four separate wings and enough rooms to accommodate each guest of the party and then some, you marvelled at its majesty. To think that one person could possess such riches!

The structure rose high, illuminated by sconces and tall, standing braziers of coloured flame; dancing plumes of blue, pink and purple cast their shadows on the stone walls, and would have been eerie had they not been scented so sweetly. A red carpet had been rolled out across the neat gravel that itself circled a grand, running fountain, its centrepiece that of a marble woman in prayer. Lords and ladies made their excited entrances quickly, keen to discover the marvels of what lay inside; and a marvel it was. The queen had spared no expense on decoration or entertainment, the ballroom inside transformed to an elegant take on the Cirque du Soleil— from the great domed ceiling were suspended rings wound with wildflowers on which gymnasts twirled and performed. About the crowd mingled entertainers on high stilts dressed with parlour tricks and glamours that delighted ladies and challenged the men. Great and regal birds perched contentedly on the gloved arms of their masked hosts, who encouraged those curious enough to come closer, to take a look. Colours and sounds and exotic scents such as you had never before experienced accosted your senses to much wonder, driving from you all nerves you had inherited during the journey.

On your entrance flocked a number of gentlemen keen to secure from you a promise of a dance, and how happily you fell into conversation with them, feeling ever more like the potential for romance might finally bloom. You felt light, as though suspended on one of the ceiling rings yourself.

Lady Danbury made herself known to you and your mother, clad (as was traditional for her) in a colourful array of satins.

“Might we be expecting the duke in attendance this evening?” your mother asked her, ever hopeful. “We have not seen him at Bridgerton house for several days.”

Lady Danbury’s face drew solemn. “Speak not to me of my nephew. He does his utmost to bring me despair.”

“However could you mean?”

“For many months I have had words with him on the matter of courtship and marriage. I was well prepared for my pleas to be ignored as they have been, but imagine my delight to see him making efforts with you, Miss Bridgerton! I thought, perhaps, his mind had changed.”

“He is against marriage?” your mother asked, shocked.

Lady Danbury shook her head. “His heart is hardened by the years of his youth. Such a difficult time he had of things. His mother passed during childbirth and his father was none suited to the task of fatherhood, utterly without love for the boy. I have never known such a cruel, cold creature. I shudder to imagine what might have become of him had I not taken him in, and it awes me every day to know the man he is now. I am endlessly proud of him, Lady Bridgerton, but he suffers the sins of his father as though they are his own. It saddens me greatly.”

You listened to the conversation, breath caught. He had alluded to his upbringing on your enquiries, but had kept much of it from you, for reasons that you supposed pertained to his pain. How much pain indeed! Could it be that this explained his aversion to love, to marriage, to wanting children? Such was the urge to take him in an embrace and assure him that all would be well— if only you possessed the courage.

“His mind must be changed, Lady Danbury. He has courted my daughter with clear intention; I have seen it myself, the way they alight one another when they are together. Whatever is responsible for this distance, we must fix it. Perhaps he has been repelled by the other gentleman that have called on her?”

Lady Danbury scoffed a laugh. “I find that highly unlikely.”

“Then there is nothing for it,” your mother turned to you sharply. “Seek him out, dear. Assert yourself upon him and assuage his worries.”

“I shall do no such thing, mother.”

“Why ever not?”

“Because he is not the only man in the ton. There are many other gentlemen here I should like to get to know.”

Your mother laughed. “Nonsense! I have watched numerous gentlemen court you these days just gone, and not a one of them has titillated you as the duke did!”

“What would you know of it?” you snapped, so emotional as to forget yourself. “What would anyone know of it? I am positively sick of being told whom I must and must not entertain, what I can and cannot feel. I should rather prefer to be left well alone so my own mind might be decided.”

Lady Danbury smiled wryly. Your mother blinked in shock.

“Please excuse me.”

With a curt bow you departed from them, as adequately mortified by your own outburst as by the fact that your mother seemed so easily able to read you. Through the gathering you navigated as best you could, stepping out to a veranda that overlooked the mansion’s rear courtyard. It was quieter here, the din of partygoers and shrill of the brass band reduced to a pleasant background buzz. It allowed for a catching of breath, where you settled yourself and decided an apology was probably due to your mother. Later.

The courtyard stretched out before you, its lush green lawn lit by standing sconces that emitted haloes of amber light. Arrangements of flower beds and animals shaped from the rose bushes were much delightful to look upon, and not a soul thought to disturb you.

“It is disrespect of the highest degree, Hwang. You must see that.”

Your heart seized as a raised voice floated to you.

“Then I cannot win, Bridgerton. I am damned if I am too close to her, I am damned if I retreat. What would you have me do?”

Looking over the veranda’s balustrade and down to the courtyard, you saw the silhouettes of two strong frames you knew well cast over the stone, though they themselves remained just out of sight.

“I demand that you make your intentions clear. Assure me that you intend to ask for my sister’s hand, and I shall grant my blessing. A man’s word is his bond.”

“The whole ton knows of my intentions. Have you not heard the gossip?”

“I know better than to alight any credence to the rumour mill that drives this society. I know you, more importantly. Why can you not simply offer promise of marriage to my sister when you have made a show of courting her to that end? Why do you find such difficulty in so simple a thing?”

“I find no difficulty in it. I find insult.”

“Insult?!” Anthony laughed hoarsely. “You jest, surely!”

“You call into question my integrity. My honour.”

“Then take action, Hwang. Make me the fool, prove me wrong. Convince me that your courting of my sister is not some ploy, the ends of which I can only speculate to.”

Silence fell. Fire in the sconces crackled. Your skin tingled with anticipation.

“You cannot,” Anthony said.

“I will entertain this conversation no longer.”

“You are a coward.”

“Careful, Bridgerton.”

“You are the one should be careful. You have toyed with my sister, dragged her into your affairs and pressed upon her expectations.”

 “She has no expectations of me, Anthony. Of that, I can assure you.”

“Do you find it amusing to make a fool of her? Of me? Of my family? Would not any young lady from the ton have sufficed for your games?”

“That is enough.”

“Shall I tell you what it is wounds me most, Hwang? Of all this?”

A beat of silence passed; Anthony spoke again.

“I was at first outraged to learn of your calling on my sister. We exchanged cross words, and my anger continued still, until the family dinner that eve. Never have I seen a woman glow such as my sister did that night. It seemed as though a flame had been ignited under her skin, and that all was hope and excitement. I was forced to reconsider my prejudices. Could a man that brought her such joy truly be as roguish as I hitherto perceived? I struggled to comprehend it, and so I thought I would allow you to continue. Perhaps I was wrong to indulge my curiosity, but I acted from the goodness of my heart, and furthermore, saw yours. I kept myself scarce and allowed things to take their course, objected not when you invited her to tea. I know I detected sincerity about you. The truth of the matter cannot be concealed when it shows so abundantly in your eyes.”

Another beat of silence.

“I am informed you have not called on her this week. Why?”

“The other men of the ton have kept her occupied.”

Anthony laughed. “And yet, it is not other men that she wants. You have seen well to that.”

You heard footsteps, the silhouette of your brother wavering.

“I neither know nor care what games you play, Hwang, but from this moment on, you shall play them with someone else. Leave my sister be. I beg you. Please.”

With that, his shadow disappeared from sight, your eyes so blurred with the makings of tears miraculously able to see it. There was the huff of a deep breath, and measured footsteps as Hyunjin appeared from under the veranda, his state of dishevelment such a shock as to bring you to gasp. He whirled around and looked up, your eyes meeting in the dim light. What grief struck his expression surely matched your own.

“Go inside, my lady,” he said, voice gruff. “The evening draws cold.”

A whirl of indignation possessed you.

“Is that all you have to say, your grace?” you called.

He hung his head, his demeanour so unlike what you knew. He shook his head, raked a hand through his silken locks that caught the golden light of the nearby brazier.

“It seems I am unable to trust my words this eve,” he said. “They irk all who hear them.”

“That is because they are dishonest.”

He looked up at you once more, his jaw feathering as his lips pressed thinly.

“Come down, my lady. I should like to speak with you.”

“Come up here, your grace. The view of the courtyard is most agreeable.”

With something resembling a smile, Hyunjin nodded. He buttoned his jacket as he began into the mansion, once more disappearing from your view. How the minutes seemed to prolong as you awaited him on the veranda, each second weighing heavily on you until he called your name—

“Ah! The fair Miss Bridgerton!”

A shiver of revulsion possessed you— that was not how he called your name.

It was with a bout of horror that you turned and saw Lord Berbrooke barrelling towards you, his suit too small for his podgy frame and his beard as wildly untamed as what little hair yet clung to his bonce for dearest life.

“You are all alone out here!” he exclaimed, draining the flute in his hand and tossing it carelessly aside. “A lady so dainty as yourself should not be left unattended.”

“I was in need of some air. I am quite content to be left alone.”

“No, no. You mustn't be,” he drawled. “All manner of horror awaits the unsuspecting young lady.”

“As I am coming to learn,” you muttered.

He came closer still, near enough that the reek of liquor spoke for him.

“I must confess dear, that I eagerly await the day of our nuptials!”

“Excuse me?”

“Perhaps it is gross of me to admit, but I am not so cold-hearted a man! I am as susceptible to love’s pinch as any other! Miss Bridgerton—” He stumbled and caught himself on the balustrade. “You shall make for me, a most pleasing wife.”

“Lord Berbrooke, you presume far too much. You have made no such proposal to me, and if I may speak frankly, I should decline if you did.”

“My dear,” he cackled, throaty and vile. “The proposal is not yours to decline. The viscount is in hearty agreement with me! The deal is made! You are already mine!”

Icy trickles of fear seized your limbs with a wave of nausea. Lord Berbrooke guffawed louder still, and made as though to reach for you, his grubby hands keen in their search. “Come, my dear. We need not pretend any longer. Let us get ahead of the consummation—”

What happened next was so utterly quick you might have blinked and missed it. Lord Berbrooke lunged with delight in his eyes, and yet his advances were short. He was dragged backward by the collar and thrown to the ground in a heap, where the sole of a firm foot pinned him by the chest. Above the man did the Duke of Hastings loom, his expression thunderous.

“If you value either your reputation or your life, Lord Berbrooke,” he snarled. “I suggest you leave here and never again darken Miss Bridgerton’s door.”

“Get your damn foot off me—”

“You will relent in your attempts to marry her and leave her be. Am I understood?”

“What?! How dare you—”

“Else the entire ton shall know of your improper advances on the young lady by morning light, and you shall be shunned from all you know, dropped from all deals of business, exiled as a vagabond and a villain. How do you think the viscount might take to such information?”

Hyunjin pressed his foot into Berbrooke’s chest, resulting in a hog-like squeal.

“Am I understood?”

“Yes! Yes!”

“Say it,” Hyunjin snapped.

“I will leave the girl alone! Consider it done! Release me! Please!”

The man removed his foot; Lord Berbrooke scrambled to his feet, clutching his chest and panting. With a glare of immeasurable hatred, he stumbled from the veranda and into the mansion, scarcely looking back. Had you known that was the last time you would ever see Lord Berbrooke in your lifetime, you might have mustered a smile. As it stood, you were too horrified to much move or speak.

Hyunjin collected himself and turned to you.

“My apologies, my lady. I wish you had not seen that.”

You shook your head. “Thank you.”

“You need not thank me. Any decent man would have acted the same.” He stepped near. “Did he put hands on you?”

“No. I do not think—”

Hyunjin reached out, and from the waistline of your dress caught a thin strip of ribbon that seemed as though ripped loose. He ran it between his fingers, his eyes narrowing sharply.

“I should have made haste.”

“It is nothing the modiste cannot mend.” You took his hand, entirely thoughtless in doing so. “Truly, I am fine.”

He hung his head, strands of gold falling about his features. His hand stilled in yours, warm skin doing nothing more than brushing softly.

“I fear I have made a terrible mistake, my lady,” he whispered.

“How so?”

He looked at you, his hazel eyes warm, yet sad.

“It would appear that... in my efforts to assist you with the matter of your finding love, I have myself fallen.”

You swallowed. “You have found someone?”

“Indeed, I have. Foolishly, I have. I have attempted to distance myself from her, but she invades my every thought. Her name carries on my every breath. There is nothing I can do to avail myself of this torment.”

“Have you confessed as such to her, your grace?”

“I cannot. She believes me dishonest, I am sure, among other things.”

“You might be mistaken,” you whispered. “One must always account for intent.”

“My intentions were selfish.”

“And are they still?”

He searched your face, the fire light from the near brazier dancing on his flawless complexion.

“Yes,” he breathed.

The background lull of music from the ball seemed to cease. The man flicked a gaze from your eyes to your lips, the suggestion such that your heart lurched and drove you the step toward him that closed your bodies near; he drew tense, his hold on your hand firming as he slotted his fingers between yours. His other hand found your cheek, sure yet afraid, and it was by your unrelenting gaze that you drew him in to kiss you.

His lips were as tender as to break your heart, and in the embrace did your sensibilities unravel like tumbling yarn. One kiss, then another just as soft, and by the third you clutched his jacket as though he might disappear.

When he broke away, it was with a high flush on his cheekbones. He licked his full bottom slowly.

“The taste of a diamond,” he whispered. “How painfully I have longed for it.”

“Your grace...”

“You must think me a monster.”

You took his face in your hands. “Do not presume to know my thoughts. I shall tell you them myself. You need only ask.”

“I fear I am not so brave as that, my lady.”

“You were brave enough to kiss me just a moment ago. Brave enough to face my brother in the name of upholding our bargain. Brave enough to aid me when I believed all hope lost.”

“I acted in my own interests.”

“As did I.”

“There is... much you do not know of me.”

“Much that I look forward to discovering, when you are ready and the time is right.”

He sighed as though exasperated, yet the weight of it was light.

“You vex me, my lady.”

“I should say the same of you, your grace.” You swept your thumbs over his cheekbones, his lids fluttering. “You insisted so strongly on the goodness of your character, and yet when faced with acceptance, attempted to paint yourself a villain. Forgive me if I speak out of turn, but I must have you know— you are not the man your father was, and neither are you doomed to repeat his mistakes.”

Pained was the expression that crossed him, his breath catching sharply.

“Do you truly wish to spend all your days alone?” you asked on a whisper.

“Not anymore, my lady.”

“Then do not attempt to push me away with talk of your devils. I shall accept them all, horns and wings alike.”

He turned into your palm, revelling in the touch. He clasped your wrist and pressed plush lips to the warm, soft skin.

“You have altered all I thought I knew,” he said. “I am utterly taken with you, Miss Bridgerton. I am in love, and you were quite right; it is to be celebrated. I wish to tell all who attend this ball that you are the woman that has bewitched me, mind and soul, such that I do not even know myself or these things I say. I feel driven mad, and yet never has a course of action been clearer to me.”

With another a kiss to your palm, he dropped to his knee, clutching your hand with both of his.

“Marry me, my lady. If you can return even a sliver of my feelings, make of me an honest man and I shall take care of you for all our days. You shall want for no comfort, long for no affection. It shall be all I can do to satisfy and delight you.”

Choked with the onset of emotion, it hardly seemed true that such a thing could be happening; that the Duke of Hastings could be proposing.

“What say you, my lady?”

You squeezed his hand tenderly, your heart so full of warmth. How reminiscent it all seemed, and to that end:

“You have a deal, your grace,” you said, utterly giddy.

Hyunjin laughed, his eyes crescent with joy that alighted him. He rose from his kneel, took you into his embrace.

“Excellent,” he said softly. “Though I must make one thing abundantly clear.”

“Oh?”

“I am of the belief that keeping separate bedrooms is a terribly archaic practice.”

“Meaning what, your grace?”

“Meaning...” He kissed you once more, and spoke against your sweet lips. “There shall be no rest for you tonight, nor the next, nor on any night to come, my lady. You are mine, forevermore.”

𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚, 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜, 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚 >

𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙? 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚 ♡ >

𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙠𝙯 𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 ♡ >

[hyunskizz]

Uk i binge read all your chapters and i don't regret staying up late. Sorry for keeping our witch boy on hold for so long but at the same time I'm glad I did because Mari i wouldn't be able to wait for the next chapters cuz you write so damn well makes me want more.

Reading this was truly a different experience i actually like the pace at which the story is going. This honestly is amazing.

I truly love your mind. ( Can I marry it?) I love the way you come up with such different intricate stories. That's no easy task! Because sex magick? I don't think I've ever come across works based on it. My love I was so hooked. Makes me wanna research tbh.

I really love this small world u created, the setting, the characters and everything.

I would love to say more but those are private yells which I'll slide into your dms soon.

Low expectations? Mari you always never ever fail to amaze me. Not even being biased just cuz you're my favorite. Every story you write is beyond words.

Thank you for your time and efforts for every story.

achillea millefolium | four of wands chapter three

pairing: witch!hyunjin x f!reader | wc: 21.7k | genre: adult romance | warnings: mutual pining ; angst ; heavy fantasizing ; occult sciences and mentions of sex magick. This work & chapter contain dark/adult themes and strong language. This work is for adult audiences as it includes sexually explicit content. Reader discretion advised. See detailed + nsfw warnings here.

──── There were times you thought Hyunjin was a dream, that he wasn’t even real. Other times you convinced yourself he was just a guy, no different than anybody. And sometimes you truly believed he had otherworldly abilities. You couldn’t explain how—maybe there was something in his DNA, the perfect formula to make him like that. Whatever it was, he had bewitched you. Because you had never felt like this before. Nothing had ever been this easy.

You used not to remember your dreams. Hell, you used to think you never dreamt at all—you just assumed that whenever you fell asleep, your mind became a void where you were granted a few hours of respite from life. You used to believe that nothing happened when you fell asleep. That it was darkness, and nothing else.

It had never been easy for you. Sleeping. As a baby, your parents regularly had to take you on long car rides at night just to lull you to sleep. As a child, you stayed up past curfew to read books under the light of a flashlight which was in fact merch from The Lion King movie that your uncle gave you one Christmas. As a teenager, you’d lay in bed with your headphones and listen to Linkin Park, Nirvana, or Slipknot, but you’d also read sometimes, or masturbate. 

As an adult, you binge-watched TV shows or documentaries, or you worked. If you were going to be awake all these hours on a given day, you wanted to make them at least a little productive. If that didn’t work, you still masturbated in the hopes it would help you relax. You had a white noise machine that was still in its original box and you kept a blue light filter on all of your screens. And yet, for years, you struggled, watching the night sky become morning through the windows of the bedrooms you occupied. And when you did sleep, there was nothing.

Then there had been Daehan. While you dated him, you’d take random over-the-counter medicine just to make yourself a little sleepy. Anything that caused drowsiness was good enough—melatonin, yes, but mostly allergy meds or nighttime cold medicine. You couldn’t see it while it was happening. That you desperately needed to escape. That the cold, empty void of your sleep was better than sharing his bed. You used to take the pills early just to maximize the amount of time you didn’t have to worry about whether he was texting other girls or sending them pictures of his dick. Sometimes, he’d get into bed and wake you up by pressing his hard cock against your ass. And it made you feel like you mattered. Being his docile cumdump made you feel cherished. To let him shove himself inside your cunt. You were usually asleep again by the time he was done, which was not very long, and you drifted to sleep again with his cum leaking out of your bored cunt.

You used not to remember your dreams. 

And then you moved to Heron Lake.

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author's note: Thank you are always the first words that come to mind when I sit to write these little notes. I have always said and continue to say that I have the absolute best readers in this entire fandom and maybe even website. I’m blessed. I’ve been lucky. And this is why I am always terrified I’ll disappoint too many of you too badly at one point, if I haven’t already. If this day is today, I hope you can forgive me. I have missed Heron Lake but I simply couldn’t make the plot progress without giving our MC the proper time to process the changes happening in her mind and her heart. I think, maybe, because there are a lot of things in my heart too these days and it’s hard to make sense of them. I’ll say it again: thank you. Thank you for choosing to read my story, thank you for your kindness, for every ask, reblog, for all the love you’ve given me and my little fics. Thank you for allowing me to experiment and for wanting me around. You guys take care, ok? 🤍

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#beloved author mari☆ #this story has become my 2nd fav now. #witch boy 🧹🪄 #fic recs🖇️ #four of wands #also the nn four is so cute. #who would have thought a number would sound cute af.