Chapter Text
“Absolutely not,” Wooyoung said again as he cleaned the remains of the prince’s lunch, one he had had alone because the servant had grown tired of him in the past few days.
“I would like to point out that I am in charge here and you are supposed to grant me everything I wish.” Hongjoong added in a condescending tone, waving his right hand towards him to reinforce his point.
“My job is serving you inside the palace grounds because you are not supposed to leave them to begin with.”
“I thought we were past that already.” Wooyoung finished placing the remains of the prince’s lunch on the wooden tray and stood up with the intention of heading out. Normally the servant would go to the kitchen to leave all the dirty dishes there and Hongjoong would wait where he always was, but this time around the prince stood up too and followed him to the door. “We came to an agreement: I can go out as long as it’s not a full moon.”
“That was not our agreement!” Wooyoung yelled, turning on his feet, forcing Hongjoong to stop dead in his tracks so as not to collapse against the tray. The servant looked angry, fuming even, and Hongjoong could understand him in a way but he didn’t have any plans to stop. “I agreed to help you go out once because… only the Moon knows why. I pitied you and you decided to take that as a rule. But of course one outing was not enough for His Highness and you wanted more, always more.”
It had always been obvious for Hongjoong that Wooyoung never really feared him, he was never afraid of punishment for speaking in such a way to a member of the Royal Family, but it became even more obvious everytime the topic of going out was brought back. With every sentence that left his lips, Wooyoung took one step closer to the prince forcing him to step back with his aura alone. And Hongjoong was not actually afraid of him, he knew there was nothing the servant could actually do to him due to his position, but he was intimidating when he was angry. The way the words left his mouth in such a hurry, the veins on his neck getting marked as he continued talking, barely stopping to inhale.
“One thing is going out for a walk and something completely different is heading to the most famous establishment in the capital to watch the most anticipated performance of the year. Do you even know how many people go there every night? What type of people visit? Because I do!” He said, raising his voice little by little. Hongjoong was surprised he hadn’t thrown the tray away yet because he certainly looked ready to do so. “People with money or power or both. People who could very much recognize you at any given time. Is that what you want?”
Hongjoong sighed because no, that was not what he wanted. If someone discovered who he was outside of the palace walls he would be in serious trouble, not only with his family but his whole life could be threatened, and Hongjoong wanted nothing more than to be free but not at the cost of his own life. Still, stubborn as he was, he knew he would never forgive himself if he missed Silver Light’s performance, so he didn’t back down.
“You know how careful I always am,” he tried to reason, lifting both his hands in a surrendering manner. “You could even come with me if you don’t trust me.”
At that, Wooyoung just laughed before turning back towards the door. Hongjoong didn’t understand what was so funny but he felt like he didn’t need to ask. Wooyoung wasn’t mysterious, he would always say exactly what was on his mind one moment or the other. So he waited, observing the servant open the door slightly to peep outside and then closing it again cursing at himself.
“How do you even plan on doing that with San as your guard?” He whispered, voice filled with anger and desperation, walking closer to the prince again so he didn’t have to raise his voice.
“Right… San…” Hongjoong answered, caressing his nape with his right hand.
He had totally forgotten about the man, since he was used to simply having a few regular guards posted by the door to protect his residence but never doing anything other than that. He hadn't gone out much since San had joined him, afraid to do something that would raise the man’s suspicions on himself right before the moment he planned on sneaking out. But everytime he had taken a step outside and the guard had followed him and Wooyoung, both of them had tried to tell him they were perfectly fine and needed no protection. As expected, San never listened to any of the words since his duty was of extreme importance to him.
“Yeah, right,” Wooyoung repeated. “You decided to take him as your personal guard but you didn’t think about the consequences.”
“I already explained this to you: he asked for the change. I couldn’t deny him that.” Hongjoong justified himself again under the bitter gaze of his servant. He looked tired of him, of his job and the situation he had been forced to live in, and that only made Hongjoong want to push his buttons ever further. He couldn’t stop himself when a grin appeared on his lips. “Besides, having him around is already improving your character.”
“You know what?” Wooyoung answered with a threatening smile, his voice calmed again as if he didn't care about the prince’s words at all. But the redness on his neck gave him away. “Do whatever you want, Your Highness.”
“Really?” Hongjoong straightened up a bit, if that was even possible considering how aligned he always kept his back after learning to maintain the ‘polite stand’, already feeling himself burst with joy.
“No!” Wooyoung quickly added, crushing his hope, with an incredulous expression before heading to the door once more.
This time it looked final, he was really going to leave and Hongjoong hadn’t gotten what he so wanted. The performance was happening that same night, he didn’t have much time left to convince Wooyoung, and if he didn't manage to do that he would have to sneak out on his own.
“Wooyoung, wait,” the prince blurted out in desperation. Besides the fact that he had not no hope that the servant would listen, he stopped with his right hand already on the handle of the door and turned his head slightly towards the prince. Wooyoung had never cared about the fact that he was not supposed to turn his back on Hongjoong and that had always made the prince feel special in the best of ways, but this time it felt like a sort of punishment. “Someone would need to distract San as I go out,” he tried, using his last idea to get Wooyoung on his side. “You could have alone time with him if you accept to let me go see the performance.”
Hongjoong couldn’t see his expression, couldn’t see how the proposition had affected him and couldn’t even guess what he was thinking since Wooyoung opened the door and left the room without saying a word or even looking at him. Still, filled with hope, the prince ran after him just to take a look outside as the servant walked to the main door of the building. San was always standing there and the moment he heard Wooyoung coming out he turned his gaze slightly towards him, taking a step aside to allow him to pass.
Wooyoung kept his eyes on the ground, it was obvious for Hongjoong that he was avoiding looking at the guard, as he walked to the stairs and stopped to put on his shoes before stepping on the dirt. Not letting go of the tray, he was always walking around with his shoes half on for a reason, he wiggled his left foot trying to get ready and flee as soon as possible. But he was so nervous that nothing was working for him.
The prince had to contain a laugh the moment he saw San raise his left hand and place it on Wooyoung’s forearm in order to help him balance himself. The servant jolted in place almost letting all the plates on the tray fall to the ground, but tried to compose himself and ignore his own reaction. Barely a few seconds later he was already climbing down the stairs with his shoes poorly on, bowing his head to San, ears visibly blushed.
“Th-thank you,” he mumbled before running away, leaving San with his hand still up holding onto nothing.
─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───
Hongjoong looked at Wooyoung with a pinch of superiority in his stance, not because of his status but because he had finally won. As the servant helped him get dressed, adjusting the outer robe to his shoulders before closing it, he couldn’t help but smile to himself at the satisfaction. Wooyoung hadn’t really said anything about it, he had simply appeared in his room carrying a bundle with the clothes Hongjoong was going to use for the night. He hadn’t even looked the prince directly in the eye, a small frown in both his eyebrows and his lips.
He had chosen a navy blue robe combined with a slightly bluish hanbok under it, enough for the contrast to follow the fashion trend of the time but also not too excessive to call too much attention. Hongjoong also noticed how there was no pattern on his clothings this time around, he felt almost bare staring at his garments since he was used to wearing something intricate and with a lot of details to make his position in the palace clear to everyone. But he didn’t complain, he couldn’t risk it.
A few extra touches and modifications for the robe to hang perfectly over his body and Wooyoung closed it with an experienced knot. Lowering to grab the cord that would work as a belt around Hongjoong’s waist, the prince could hear him snorting slightly as he continued doing his job almost unwillingly. Once standing in front of the prince again, Wooyoung signalled him to raise both arms with a hard push on the inner side of them but Hongjoong decided to mess with him for a little bit. He didn’t move, but expected the servant to find a way to continue working without his collaboration, like a regular servant was expected to do in similar circumstances. But Wooyoung was no regular servant.
“Do you want to go out or not?” He snapped looking right into the prince’s eyes all of a sudden.
Hongjoong didn’t answer, he just lifted his arms as he had been instructed and Wooyoung surrounded his waist with the cord with a movement rougher than necessary. After tying it carefully and letting it fall over Hongjoong’s left hip he took a step back to take a full look at him, analysing every detail, looking for anything that needed fixing. This time around the prince didn’t tease him about his perfectionism, he didn’t want to risk losing this opportunity by annoying him too much, but just stayed quiet and still waiting for the other to be satisfied.
Even when on official visits around the palace Hongjoong had to wear the traditional hat above his head, he never took one when he went outside. This accessory named gat was reserved for those belonging to an upper status, such as nobles or those who had passed the civil service examinations and worked for the government. Hongjoong needed to avoid unnecessary gazes and questions, so the gat was never included when he ventured outside. People would make questions if he looked too much like a noble and presenting like a person who worked for the government was equally unwise.
Instead, Wooyoung usually combed his hair backwards and held it together in a high ponytail. It was comfortable for Hongjoong to wear it like that and it made him look more like a merchant, so it was convenient. On other occasions, a stroll around the gardens or even a visit to the library, Hongjoong would have adorned his hair with golden or silver ornaments, but tonight all he could afford was a ribbon of the same fabric that the hanbok was made of.
With everything in place, Wooyoung reached inside the inner pocket of his uniform and took out a pouch whose tingling noise made it obvious that it was filled with money. He handed Hongjoong a simple black and empty one, the one he always used, and placed around ten coins on his opened hand.
“Keep it safe,” the servant said, already closing the full one under the offended gaze of the prince.
“This is not even enough,” Hongjoong said, outraged. “I will be supposed to buy myself a drink to be in the Tea House.”
“How much do you think a drink costs?” Wooyoung asked, furrowing his face in disbelief. Truth be told Hongjoong had no idea whatsoever of what was a normal price for things so he couldn’t answer that question and they both knew that. “That’s more than enough for a few bottles, trust me.”
“Oh, don’t be like that,” Hongjoong insisted.
He usually didn’t buy anything when he was outside safe for something to eat, but this time around he was supposed to visit the most popular place in the city. Hongjoong was buzzing with excitement, feeling like when he was a kid and his tutor brought him sweets to reward him after a good lesson. This was new, exhilarating, and he wanted everything to be perfect including the amount of money he would carry with him.
“You promised you would go unnoticed,” Wooyoung fought back, gripping his pouch closer to his chest. “How much money do you think people carry on them?”
“More than this, definitely,” Hongjoong answered, looking at his coins with pity before signalling Wooyoung’s fair amount. “Look at you.”
“I’m just realizing I have never properly explained to you how things work out there…” Wooyoung said absent-mindedly before shaking his head to bring himself back. “Low profile, remember?”
“But what if someone needs me to buy them a drink?” The prince asked, trying to make the other understand his concern.
“Then you don´t,” Wooyoung almost screamed, visibly irritated about the whole conversation. He took a deep breath in and, as if he was talking to a child, he asked softly. “Why shouldn’t you buy a stranger a drink?”
“Because I’m supposed to go unnoticed,” Hongjoong sighed, his shoulders falling slightly forward with defeat. But he was definitely not known for his understanding, he could be fickle sometimes especially when it involved one of his deeper obsessions, so he tried a different method. “I am your prince.”
That was all. Nothing more, nothing less, just the affirmation that Hongjoong indeed held a higher position and status than Wooyoung and that, therefore, the second one should comply with his every desire. However, Wooyoung didn’t budge. He blinked at the prince and smiled slyly.
“No,” he simply said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Tonight you are Hongjoong, a book merchant who came to town on this day specifically to watch the performance.”
“Book merchant?” Hongjoong asked, taken aback.
“You’re constantly reading, I know nobody who reads more than you. If they ask you about your business you need to be able to say at least something, and I doubt you have a basic knowledge about fabrics.” Wooyoung explained in an obvious tone, because of course what he was saying was completely true and made a lot of sense but Hongjoong had been too busy with his excitement to think about those little details.
“Don’t change the topic,” Hongjoong attacked again, extending his right hand between the two of them asking for more money once again. “Do you want me to command you to give me more coins?”
“Do you want me to help you go out?” Wooyoung replied, firm in his position. So Hongjoong had no other option but to use his last card.
“Do you want me to tell San about how you have been spying on him when he trains?”
The change in the servant’s expression was almost instant. His eyes grew open, his neck began to get redder and his jaw tightened a few times before he opened the pouch again. With a low complaint he put his hand inside it and gave Hongjoong a bunch more, making the prince smile with joy and straighten his back with glee. He couldn’t be sure how much that represented or how much he could acquire with it, but it felt heavier than usual which was exactly what he had wanted.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Wooyoung said as Hongjoong put his pouch away, now completely prepared to leave. “Make sure to come back the moment the performance is over, I don’t think I can lie to San for too long.”
“Why not? You’re constantly lying to him about your whereabouts and infatuation,” Hongjoong laughed as he walked to one of his private cabinets, moving the things around as he was looking for something in particular.
“And do I do a good job at it?” Wooyoung answered in an angry tone, clearly getting nervous about the fact that he would have to actually talk to the guard without the presence of the prince.
“Not really, no,” Hongjoong agreed, containing a joyful noise when his fingers finally touched the velvety material he was looking for.
It was a reddish pouch, one he had been filling with coins on his own for a while. Maybe his method was somehow problematic, but ever since Wooyoung had started handing him little money for his trips he had been putting away one or two coins for himself. Wooyoung had no idea, he thought he was expending all of it, but in reality the prince had been saving it all for a moment like this. And if anyone would claim him to be a thief he would simply defend himself saying that Wooyoung’s money was, in fact, his. He was winning that money because of him anyway, so it was fair for them to share it.
Careful not to draw attention upon himself as he shoved the newly acquired pouch into one of his pockets, Hongjoong also grabbed a forgotten fan to pretend like that had been his objective. The moment he opened it in front of his face as he looked at Wooyoung, he knew the reaction he would get. It was bright orange with a sewn pattern of intricate flowers.
“You’re not taking that with you,” the servant ordered.
“Too expensive looking?”
“It doesn’t fit the rest of the look,” Wooyoung fought back almost immediately, wasting but a second. Hongjoong bit his lower lip in order not to smile and left the fan in its place while the servant turned towards the door. “I will keep him away from the room. Don’t make a lot of noise on your way out.
Hongjoong nodded once and waited patiently until he could hear the voices of the two outside. Careful not to be caught, he sneaked out of the residence and walked alone to his usual exit point.
─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───
It was slightly disappointing that Hongjoong traveled through the forest without any notorious incidents. The white owl didn’t show up this time and, even when he took a detour to follow the river bed hoping to see the Blessed by the Moon, his walk was calm and without incidents. Considering it was the first time he went outside since that encounter, he would have liked to see him but his excitement about Silver Light’s performance made him forget about it rather quickly.
When he finally exited the forest and the lights of the city appeared in the distance, the prince smiled to himself and made haste. He still had plenty of time before the performance—he had been reckless and desperate enough to flee when the sun was still in the sky—and he was still unsure of what he wanted to do. Go to the Tea House right away? He was sure a lot of people would attend the awaited performance and he wanted a good spot, it would be heartbreaking if he was denied entrance because the place was full. But maybe it was still too early for that and he might come out as impatient? Should he take a walk around the city first?
Shaking his head in an attempt to calm himself, he decided to act according to what he saw around the place. He was not familiar with the city at that time anyway, especially not during such a special day, so he would let the masses guide him through it. If people were starting to walk in, he would too. If nobody was around yet, he would take a stroll. Easy as that.
Or so he thought, because the moment he set foot into the city grounds and the posters announcing the performance received him from every corner he started getting anxious. They didn’t even show the figure of the dancer, just the drawing of two fans on either side of the surface with Silver Light written with big and fancy letters in the center accompanied with the day and time of the performance. It was not much, but it was enough to peak Hongjoong’s excitement and make him wonder and daydream about it. Were those the fans the dancer used or a random design chosen to draw attention to the poster?
Hongjoong knew only what he had heard, the rumours that managed to get into the palace when the performances happened regularly, and since not a lot was said around him the image in his head was far from complete. From what had reached him, he could only picture a slim and tall figure with an elegant face and long white hair. The long lashes, the thin lips, the shape of the face, the silver clothes and accessories had all been Hongjoong's doing for he didn't even know the gender of Silver Light. He was in the dark about more things than he actually knew, and that had probably been the main reason he had been so eager to attend one performance: to satisfy his curiosity. Hongjoong needed to know so badly, he hated not knowing, he hated missing out on things, he hated knowing by others and that hatred alone was what moved him from one obsession to the next.
He couldn’t even contain himself when his feet took him directly to the Tea House. He had passed by it a few times and he had always admired how big and beautiful it looked from the outside alone. The walls were painted white but all the window frames and columns that traveled from the top to the bottom of the building were emerald, a glisten to them that made you inevitably look. The windows to the first floor were the biggest and from the outside Hongjoong could see the candle lights hanging from the roof to illuminate the open space where everything seemed to happen. The second, third and fourth floor had a few balconies with railings in the same emerald tone alternated with smaller windows whose shutters displayed nocturnal motives such as stars. The dark roof was more intricate than that of the buildings around it, with figures on the corners and a sort of flower engraved on the polished surface at the end of the wooden beams. From it, right above the main door placed on the right side of the facade, hung proudly the sign that announced the name of the place in intricate letters inked in black.
Hongjoong tilted his head to the right after taking a look at the sign when he noticed the phases of the moon that were drawn in black right under the dark roof, almost as a reminder of the people who lived and worked inside those walls. Like the drawings of dragons found in the palace to indicate the power of the crown or the orange flowers on his building to let everyone know that someone of Royal Blood lived there but that he was not actually important. Like a brand. For a moment he wondered if the residents of the place liked that, but his question vanished in his head when someone bumped into him.
A boy with a beautiful face covered with freckles and white long hair that looked younger than Hongjoong bowed towards him to apologize, but quickly disappeared inside the building in a hurry not giving him time to answer. He seemed to be carrying something on his arms and besides the brief encounter the prince could see how flustered he looked, probably after rushing through the people. Almost unable to contain himself, Hongjoong walked after him not to try and stop him but sort of hypnotized. As if the sudden encounter had made him fully comprehend that this was actually happening, as if seeing a white haired person had made his brain understand that he was finally entering the place. That he was indeed about to watch Silver Light perform in the flesh.
So ignoring his previous plan to decide what to do depending on the ambient of the city, the prince took a deep breath and crossed the main door inside Twilight. Maybe it was still early since the place was not as crowded as it would have been expected for the occasion, and for once Hongjoong was happy to have escaped the palace at such an hour. Now he could choose the seat he liked the most, he could observe the place before deciding in order to avoid the people who looked the wealthiest and more powerful, just like Wooyoung had wanted.
Inside, the hall seemed even bigger than Hongjoong had imagined in the first place specially because he was unable to see the ceiling from where he stood. From the door he could only see some of the tables that crowded the space, the bar to his left and the stairs to his right, guarded by a member of security so that only residents and guests could pass. There was a half opaque wall with a flower design right in front of him, next to the railing of the stairs, that concealed the view of the stage from anyone who walked by.
The place was already almost half full, a few people leaning against the bar counter ordering a drink, some of the smaller tables occupied with lone clients or small groups of people. It was easy to spot those who were familiar with the place since they seemed to move easily around it, and those who, like Hongjoong, were more careful and a little bit lost. His confusion and indecision about where to go was shortly noticed. A woman in her late twenties wearing a pink and purple hanbok and whose white hair was tucked in a long braid approached him in the most polite way.
“Do you need a room, sir? Or are you looking for a drink?” She asked with a bright smile that made her eyes smaller.
“I came to see Silver Light’s performance,” he simply answered with a light bow of his head and a side smile, trying not to come too formal but also not too careless about it all.
“Of course, he has gathered quite a crowd already.” The woman said moving aside elegantly to invite him to enter and Hongjoong stood there for longer than necessary just processing the information he had received.
He . Silver Light was a man. Not that it mattered, but it was something new to add to his short list of information, something new to modify the image he had created in his mind. As he finally walked inside the building trying not to come as too shy or lost, his brain started conjuring on its own accord putting the face of the man of the forest into the already made illusion of Silver Light. He couldn’t even help it, especially since he remembered no male Blessed by the Moon enough to use them as the base for his illusion. Somehow the mysterious man fitted everything he had heard about the dancer, but the idea that they could be the same person quickly faded from his mind since it seemed unlikely to be true.
Taking a deep breath in to calm himself and his erratic mind, Hongjoong approached one of the smallest tables near the furthest wall. He would have loved to have a front row seat, but the voice of Wooyoung echoed in his head as he kept repeating to him to be as unnoticeable as possible, so he settled in one located in the middle of the space. From there, back against the wall, he could keep an eye on everybody and enjoy the performance without anything obstructing his view.
Before anyone had time to approach him and ask what he wanted to drink, he admired the space around him with open eyes. The emerald that made the building stand out on the outside was even more subtle on the inside where silver and yellow seemed to be the main colours in the decoration. The lanterns that illuminated the space were perfectly placed near reflective surfaces to make better use of the few light sources in the space, creating some small rainbows over the walls with the reflections.
But what called Hongjoong’s attention the most was the high ceiling. Almost as if the building was hollow, the rectangular space where the tables were located in front of the stage was opened up to the third floor. Only the place where the stage was placed had a lower ceiling with a bunch of hooks and fabrics held onto it. A wooden railing with moons and stars engraved in it separated the open space from where the guest rooms seemed to be located. A few people walked around the corridors taking quick glances downstairs before disappearing inside the doors that were covering the walls, while others remained leaning against the railings making use of their higher spot.
After ordering a bottle of makgeolli to play pretend—he was not allowed to drink alcohol in the palace so he had little to no taste for it—and a dish whose name he couldn’t remember, he felt on the top of the world. This, exactly this, was everything he had always wanted from life. The freedom to make decisions, to make mistakes, to enjoy the company of strangers without fearing for his life, to be able to indulge in his hobbies without needing permission.
He was enjoying his dinner, watching as more and more people kept coming in, when the red curtain on the stage fell from the roof to cover it all and his heart skipped a beat. The conversations lowered in volume even when nothing had happened yet, but people still minded their businesses as if they knew they still had to wait for a bit longer. Hongjoong was not as experienced in this, he couldn’t contain his nerves and, in total desperation, he took a sip at the makgeolli in front of him, letting it calm him. He needed the performance to start already, he couldn’t take it anymore.
The sound of an instrument started filling the room in the background, but the curtain didn’t move. Hongjoong recognized the sound of the strings being plucked and lightly shook, adding a vibrato effect to the notes. He was used to the instrument himself since he had been playing it since he could remember and was able to know very quickly that the musician was skilled. Although not as much as he was, he could hear the nervousness on the notes. Still he enjoyed the distraction, glad to have something else to focus on.
People started settling in their places after the music started playing, the workers of the establishment delivering the last orders and remaining near the bar not to disturb anyone. Hongjoong noticed how some of the Blessed, those who were dressed more elegantly and with some make-up on their faces, sat down next to some of the clients evidently requested as company for the night. The prince was aware that they were simply another form of entertainment, they were meant to provide conversation to those who needed it, but still he felt violent and uncomfortable seeing some of them being slightly caressed by older men or women.
His trail of thought got interrupted when the music suddenly came to a stop and everyone in the room got quiet, the ambience shifting to complete anticipation, and Hongjoong found himself leaning forwards against the table with his eyes widened. When the curtain started lifting slowly all the air in his lungs seemed to disappear and he felt unable to breathe for the longest moment until the figure on stage was fully in sight, seated in the centre showing his back to the crowd.
The music came back once everything was ready. That’s when Hongjoong noticed the two figures seated on the right hand side of the stage, each of them with a gayageum over their crossed legs. The two instruments started mixing their sounds creating a slow, rhythmic and almost hypnotic melody that made Hongjoong’s mind fly somewhere else, somewhere he was alone admiring the show instead of surrounded by all the people filling the Tea House. His eyes didn’t remain on the musicians for long, his heart beating fast on his chest yearning for him to take a long look at the dancer he had been wanting to admire for so long.
The person everyone was paying attention to seemed to be wearing a typically female hanbok, a big and puffy skirt covering the legs and a short jacket highlighting the shape of the waist. While the skirt seemed to be dyed in light silver, the white jacket had a mint belt falling from it making it the only piece of bright colour the person was wearing. The hair, fully on display at the moment, was obviously white but Hongjoong was surprised to notice it was not as long as he had imagined. Instead it fell over the shoulders of the dancer in light waves, completely loose except for a few silver ornaments that hung from it here and there.
Hongjoong observed how the figure started moving ever so slightly, a swift raise of his right arm with the sound of the music as his fingers seemed to caress the air around them carefully. The left arm followed it later, both of them meeting over the lap of the dancer for a brief second before his right arm came back up above his head, but this time holding onto a closed fan. The dancer moved his head to the left as if he was about to look over his shoulder, but the moment Hongjoong thought he was going to see his face he opened the fan with one swift movement of his fingers covering his features completely.
Resting his left foot on the ground to his side with a graceful movement, the dancer stood partially up still covering his face and opened the other fan over his now bended knee. The prince noticed the mint details at the end of the sleeves, making the audience’s eyes go to his hands almost unconsciously. He also took a careful look at the fans, beautifully adorned with the drawing of a branch crowded with tiny silver flowers on both sides, and confirmed that the design of the posters outside were an accurate representation of the object the dancer used. One knee still on the floor, the dancer replaced the right fan with the left one to continue covering his face as the freed hand closed the object only to open it above his head and move it down slowly, as if he was fanning himself.
Hongjoong found himself easily entranced by the dance as the rhythm of the music increased bit by bit and so did the movements of Silver Light. Now standing up, everyone could see that the skirt he was wearing had a silver gradient that started strong by the waist line and got softer and creamier the closer you looked to the floor. The fit was beautiful, a reminder for everyone who was seeing as to why he was named Silver Light. Everything in him seemed to scream his name, as if Hongjoong could forget who he was looking at.
The dancer continued gracing elegantly around the stage, the skirt never in the way of his movements as if he could mentally control where it fell and how. His feet never doubted, stepping onto the ground with grace and stern at the same time. The lines of his body, even if partially covered by the clothes, were beautiful and carefully delivered to transmit the feeling of the dance. It felt somehow sad even when his expression was still concealed, and the music helped create that atmosphere. Hongjoong’s head tilted to the left involuntarily and his brows drew closer together as he felt a pull on his chest with the emotion that was being transmitted to him.
“I have a little dream of singing to the stars,” suddenly the voice of one of the musicians filled the room and Hongjoong took a quick look at them. They were a young man and a woman, both also Blessed by the Moon, and the voice of the man seemed to match the sound of the gayageum perfectly as he continued playing it.
Hongjoong had spent a big part of his life learning music, studying the scores that were available for him in the palace, and he prided himself in being fairly knowledgeable in the matter. He knew many songs by heart and could recognize many more just by listening to the first chords, but this was not familiar to him at all. He didn’t know any songs with lyrics, mostly because he couldn’t sing himself, but also because there were none in the Royal Library. Intrigued he continued watching, but a part of his mind remained locked into the lyrics.
The movements of the dancer became wider as the man continued singing, his steps bolder as he took one turn after the other to travel across the stage. Everytime he stopped he covered his face, but he was beginning to let some of his features show. He stood almost completely still on one side of the stage except for his left hand fanning slowly as he lowered his arm from above his head. The right fan in front of his face let his lidded eyes on display, thick white eyebrows crowning them and a slight pink and black make-up over his eyelids, giving him an even more eerie appearance to the prince’s perception.
When his eyes opened abruptly with the music before moving to the next series of steps, Hongjoong was almost convinced that Silver Light had stared directly in his direction. His heart skipped a beat at the thought, and he frowned even harder because for the smallest of seconds he could have sworn that his eyes were dark as the night. Just like the man of the forest. It’s not possible he said to himself as he focused back on the show.
“Sing my heart freely, following the wind,” the song continued. “How long will I be like this?”
Even when his expression was partially covered, it seemed even more obvious now that the whole performance had a rather sad innuendo to it. The lyrics combined with the movements made it awfully clear and Hongjoong couldn’t help but feel it deep inside him, as if the song was talking to him. About him. About his desire to be free.
The women joined the singing a moment later, a beautiful voice that combined perfectly with the previous one, and after harmonizing together she recited the lyrics with her eyes locked on the dancing figure that shared the stage with them.
“Sky, Wind, Small Star.” She sang as if she was calling upon them to help her fulfill her desire and for a moment Hongjoong could see how it was also Silver Light’s desire in every movement he made.
When the dancer closed one of the fans walking, almost flying, in order to use that hand to lift his skirt above his ankles prior to jumping elegantly Hongjoong felt his insides bubble. The anticipation of finally seeing his face rising in him, the thrill of being there of all places making his excitement rise by the second besides how heavy he still felt his heart with the continuation of the song.
Lifting his left leg up in a ninety degree angle in front of him before letting himself fall to the floor and rolling once, standing right after. His left knee on the floor while his right leg remained straightened behind his torso, he raised both hands in front of him forming a circle with the fans. Only his right arm remained in front of his face, his right wrist above his left one, he twisted them together making the fans circle as if they were a blossoming flower.
Looking towards the far away ceiling, towards the sky, he stood up slowly and proudly as his hands lowered in front of his body—fans closing at the same time in a practiced motion—and Hongjoon’s heart skipped a beat when he could finally glance at this uncovered profile. The shape of his nose, the plumpness of his lips, the way he looked up with yearning and pain in his expression, even the skin tone so differently illuminated were the same. Hongjoong couldn’t forget those features, they had been appearing in his dreams, they had been clouding his mind relentlessly since he had first seen them. Even with the make-up on, the different style on his hair and even the performance clothing Hongjoong knew, there was no doubt in his mind, that Silver Light and his mysterious Blessed by the Moon were the same person.
Breath hitched, eyes widely opened at the realization, at the simple thought that his past dream and his current one were in fact the same, he swallowed hard as he continued enjoying the performance with a completely different perception. Now as the dancer raised his eyes longingly upwards, Hongjoong could see him surrounded by the trees of the forest. As he lowered his body rhythmically, Hongjoong’s mind conjured the flowers around his feet. He could almost hear the flowing of the stream separating the two of them.
The desperation on the movements of Silver Light started to decrease slowly with the song, almost as if he had given up on his wish, almost resigning to his destiny. And Hongjoong didn’t know if it was all for show or if he was projecting his own desire into the man because he felt like they were somehow bonded, but he wanted to stand up and help him reach his dream.
Letting himself fall back onto the floor in the middle of the stage, the dancer got on his knees with his skirt open around his body as if it was the moon itself. Closing the fans slowly as his eyes fell onto a point a few inches before him on the floor, he let his hands rest on either side of his body. Surrendering.
“Flying freely, from this place to that place,” the woman sang, the ending of the song approaching. “Freely, from this place to that place.”
As the last word was pronounced, barely a whisper, Silver Light raised his eyes once again almost as if he was staring right into some of the guests leaning against the railing. And for a second Hongjoong could have sworn he had seen a single tear run down his right cheek. But as the song came to an end and the musicians made the strings of their instruments stop, the dancer covered his face with both fans one last time, putting an end to the performance.