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Chapter Text

The white owl was back on his window, hooting like his message was more important than the pages Hongjoong was trying to read. With a tired sigh, he stood up and moved his hands in front of it, just as he did every night. It was normally more than enough, the animal always flew away the moment he stood up as if it knew what was coming its way, but this time it remained there. Looking at him as it turned his head from one side to the other. Hongjoong was so surprised it didn’t move like it always did that he stayed in place, staring back, completely disconcerted until the owl took flight and disappeared into the night sky.

For a moment he remained by the window, one hand on the edge and the other holding the little wooden door that kept it closed. Somehow he was captivated by the moon, shining through the tops of the trees that surrounded the small building he inhabited in the furthest corner of the palace grounds. It was barely a fine white line against the dark sky, not a cloud in sight, and the stars around it seemed to glow even brighter without the blinding light of the satellite.

It normally wouldn’t mean anything to him that it was almost a new moon, but he had made a promise to his most loyal servant that he wouldn’t sneak out of the palace until the night was moonless. A frugal attempt to protect him against those Blessed by the Moon and their magic. And Hongjoong had accepted just because it gave him a sense of purpose, somehow. Waiting for that outing kept him excited in the dull life he had to endure. However, it had already been an awful amount of nights trapped inside those walls and he was beginning to lose his patience.

In normal conditions he would walk out of the palace any time he wanted to, no one ever really paid attention to him, so no questions were asked by the people he ran into. Most of the servants knew him only by name anyway, being as he was the second son of the King his role was merely diplomatic and recently not even that. His existence felt anecdotic some days, but it didn’t bother him in the least since it provided him with the freedom that he yearned for so badly.

“Why did I even promise to stay until the new moon?” He complained out loud, closing the window and resuming his reading with an even worse mood than he had had before being disturbed by the owl.

Rubbing his eyes with the palms of both his hands he began to feel the itch of being trapped for such a long time. He hated it. He was not cut out to stay trapped between those walls, his body and mind craved so much more. How was he supposed to develop as a proper human being when there were so many things that never breached through the palace doors? Life as a royal was boring and meaningless and he didn’t want it.

“Wooyoung!” He ended up yelling, determined not to be the only one going through a rough night. All of this was his fault anyway.

He waited, although not patiently but tapping his fingers against the wooden table in front of him, with a sly smile on his face enjoying every little noise and rustle that came through the closed door. Wooyoung must have been asleep already, at that moment he would be getting properly dressed with the rush of having to fulfill his duty. The image alone amused him deeply.

When the door opened and he came rushing inside, Hongjoong rose his eyes from the pages that he was not really paying attention to anymore, and enjoyed the messy state in which his servant seemed to be. His clothes were not tugged the correct way, the belt that was supposed to hold everything together was crooked, one of his socks was covering only half of his foot, and his long dark hair was loose and pointy. He had the imprint of the pillow over his left cheek and his eyes looked puffy, but he stayed in character and greeted him without complaining.

“Your Highness,” he said as he bowed his head, hands in front of him tugged with respect.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Hongjoong asked teasingly, faking innocence.

As the child of two other servants, Wooyoung had grown up inside the palace grounds and had known Hongjoong since they were little kids. Being the second son of the King didn’t make it easy for him to have friends or even someone to play with, but Wooyoung had become a sturdy support for him in little to no time. They had played together, always under the supervision of Hongjoong’s teachers, until he had turned thirteen and it had been considered improper for him to continue mingling with mere servants like Wooyoung. They hadn’t met again until Hongjoong had asked for a residence of his own a couple years ago, which implied that he needed someone to help and assist him at every second of his day. Hongjoong, never leaving anything to luck, had personally asked for Wooyoung even when everybody had assured him that the boy was not ready. It had been the best decision he had ever made since he had taken his proper role as Prince.

“You know very well you did,” Wooyoung answered, his role already forgotten as he walked towards Hongjoong without asking for permission, standing to his left.

They had easily fallen into that routine, where they pretended like they had a professional relationship, but inside closed doors were still the same two friends who ran after each other around  the palace gardens. It was easier this way for Hongjoong, having no real relationship with his brother and future King. Being with Wooyoung made him feel like he had a younger sibling.

“What do you want… Your Highness?” He added the courtesy name just to mess with him, since the tone was everything but obliging.

It had its advantages having his friend work for him, most times it didn’t even qualify as work since they just sat around and talked about whatever was on their minds. Hongjoong was never alone, never having to face his crippling fear of rejection, and Wooyoung could be himself without having to tone down what made him him . But it also had disadvantages for the prince, since Wooyoung was as direct as they came and followed the protocol in his own way. Most of the time they were bickering with each other simply because the servant refused to allow him to do whatever he wanted like any other sane person in the palace would. It kept Hongjoong on his toes in the best of ways.

“I’m bored!” The prince simply yelped, leaning his body backwards as he rested his weight over his palms on the floor.

Wooyoung didn’t even hesitate but kicked softly onto his left leg as he hissed, obviously annoyed at the reason why he couldn’t be sleeping anymore.

“You made me wake up because you’re bored? Do you know what time it is right now?”

“I don’t need to know, that’s your job,” Hongjoong joked, tilting his head to the right enjoying every second of pushing Wooyoung to his limits.

“There’s barely a couple of hours left until sunrise,” he answered, raising his voice, getting madder by the second. “You know I have morning duty tomorrow, I need sleep.”

“It’s fine, I can cover for you.”

“No, you cannot!” he screamed and, as usual, Hongjoong was comforted by the fact that the building they were in was partially isolated from the rest of the palace. “I have very important things to do in the morning that I cannot avoid. I’m not a prince, remember?”

Hongjoong looked at him, analysing his stance and the energy that was coming off of him, trying to figure out exactly what was so important. Wooyoung was not a morning person, he loathed waking up with the first rays of sunlight—another reason why he had fitted together with Hongjoong so nicely since the prince lived more at night than during the day—and it was not usual for him to reject Hongjoong’s help on the matter so openly.

“What exactly do you need to do in the morning? You’re supposed to follow me everywhere and I plan on sleeping until lunch time to say the least.”

“I don’t have to follow you everywhere. I have matters to attend to that don’t directly concern you.” He caressed his clothing in the fakest and most staged manner, trying to straighten the belt and make the jacket look more put together, but Hongjoong couldn’t be fooled. He knew Wooyoung too well already.

“Are those ‘matters’ by any chance happening at the same time that the Royal Guard is training before escorting my brother?” Hongjoong asked in a relaxed tone, as if he was really wondering and not completely sure of it. Eyes locked on his servant’s figure waiting for any sign that would betray him.

In the end, Wooyoung didn’t even try to deny it, there was no point but sometimes he still tried, and just let himself fall down to the ground. He sat with his legs crossed over the floor looking at the prince with an angry pout and squinted eyes. Hongjoong giggled at his response and kicked him jokingly on one foot.

“You wouldn’t wake up that early for me, you know.”

“Do you look like he does?” Wooyoung asked, visibly offended, as if his words made no sense at all. “Let me know when you do, maybe then we can talk about this again.”

Wooyoung had never directly told Hongjoong about his little infatuation with the Heir’s personal guard because it had never been necessary. The servant lived his days around the schedule of the man, memorizing his routine and discovering his daily appointments just to look at him from a distance. When Wooyoung had started serving him, Hongjoong had had no idea about this until he had discovered him hidden behind the bushes staring at the guard as he practiced alone with his sword. From that moment forward the prince had excessively enjoyed bothering him about the topic, making fun of him when he ran away with no convincing excuse to do so.

It had been especially entertaining since Hongjoong himself knew the guard in person and was very well acquainted with him. Similarly to how the prince had played with Wooyoung as a child, he had been taught history, literature and self defense with the man—Choi San—since his father had been the former personal Guard of the King. They knew each other pretty well and, since San had always been the best with the sword, he had quickly managed to secure his position as the Crown Prince’s personal guard.

From that moment forward their paths had visibly diverted, mostly because Hongjoong spent little to no time in the presence of his older brother and San was always busy with his duties. In the present moment Hongjoong barely exchanged looks with him, a cordial nod when he bowed in front of his prince, but no words whatsoever. He had thought about telling Wooyoung plenty of times, although he would have known how close they had been if he had paid attention to his training to begin with. But since not even he was able to offer the servant any help he had kept it for himself.

“Fine,” Hongjoong sighed in defeat although he was far away from done, “will you finally say something to him after waking up at an unreasonable hour or will you just admire him from afar like a longing wife?”

“Is this why His Highness called on me tonight? To mock me?” Wooyoung asked in the most condescending tone possible, looking as if he was about to push Hongjoong before angrily walking out of the room.

“Not really, no,” he finally admitted, pushing his body forward until his left elbow was against the table and he could rest his face on his fist in the most boring-looking pose possible.

“What can I do for you?”

“I’m bored,” he breathed out, lidding his eyes to make it even more obvious.

Without saying a word, Wooyoung stood up in a swift movement and started walking towards the door, dragging his feet and already undoing his belt.

“Where are you going?” Hongjoong asked in a louder tone, using his most commanding voice.

“What do you think? I’m going back to sleep.”

“Your Prince is talking to you, you cannot leave without my permission.” Leaning towards the table, both hands on the surface ready to push himself up if necessary, Hongjoong spoke fast and almost desperately.

“I heard the word ‘permission’ already,” said Wooyoung, turning around incredibly quickly considering how tired he had looked just a couple seconds ago. “You’re always so kind, Your Highness.” He bowed in the most excessive way possible, the Wooyoung way, and as he closed the door he added “Good night.”

Laughing to himself, knowing calling him again would only disturb the guards posted at the outside door, Hongjoong laid down on his bed. His right arm under his head, he looked at the candles absentmindedly as they were consumed little by little as time went by.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

The chilly morning air sent a shiver down his spine while he was walking through the garden as quietly as possible. He had sneaked out using one of the back doors that was, in theory, locked up. Nobody except for him and Wooyoung knew it existed so he had started wandering around without even a guard following his every step. Hongjoong was aware of what would happen if someone was to see him unprotected, but he knew his way around the palace grounds and was pretty good at hiding from unwanted eyes.

Of course his magic was useful and he relied on it when he needed a fast escape, but he liked to believe that he was intrinsically stealthy. Normally, he only used his powers when he was outside, walking around the city as he tried to be another peasant, but feeling the tingling of the magic on his fingertips had always comforted him.

Most days, especially recently, he resented being part of the Royal Family and wished to be literally anyone else, but his magic was the only thing that bound him to his blood relatives that he truly appreciated. It was known to everybody in the realm that magic ran through the Royal Family’s veins even when they were not chosen by the moon. Their magic was an hereditary feature that nobody really knew where it came from but that sometimes was present and sometimes it wasn’t. Hongjoong had been lucky enough to hold it inside of him.

It was not as if the magic of the royals was strong enough to put people in danger or change the course of things, Hongjoong was very sure that those with the power of the moon could do more and bigger things than he could. But it was enough to set them apart even more from the rest of the people. It felt like a brand sometimes, one he tried to conceal when he was roaming through the capital not to draw attention to himself. Considering his hair was dark as the night, he would have stood out too much if anyone had seen him do something magical, so he only openly used it inside the palace.

Feeling loneliness creep behind him, with no one seemingly awake yet as the sun started casting its rays into the walls of the buildings, Hongjoong looked at the landscape around him. With a frown, he waved his right fingers slightly until the soft song of a nightingale seemed to come from the tree tops ahead of him. It was play pretend, just a trick, but enough to stir  some other birds awake and encourage them to follow the song. With a smile tugging from the corners of his lips, glad to have some noise around him, he kept walking in the direction of his objective.

He knew Wooyoung would have been exactly there, he always was, but he giggled still when he spotted him crouching behind a bunch of bushes as his head peaked to the side. Since he could only see him from behind his expression remained a mystery, although Hongjoong could pretty much guess what it would be looking like at the moment. Wooyoung was staring at the man, who was wielding his sword in the field, not noticing anything else.

San had a pretty strict routine. Everyone in the palace knew that, and he barely had night shifts anymore so he enjoyed waking up and practicing his skills before the rest of the palace woke up. Hongjoong didn’t see him much at this time since he was normally sleeping, but it didn’t surprise him that he was wearing a navy fitted hanbok with tight sleeves to ease his moves instead of his uniform. His long dark hair was held in a messy bun from which a lot of strands fell and got stuck into his sweaty skin, and his expression was stern and completely focused, clueless to what was happening around him.

Observing his moves, as smooth and elegant as they could be precise and deathly, Hongjoong moved closer to his servant in the most silent way possible, even when he was very sure that he wouldn’t have noticed him anyway. Wooyoung, squatting on the floor, held his head with one of his hands in a dreamy position that the prince was so used to already. Carefully, Hongjoong got lower behind him. He kept his head at the same height as Wooyoung’s to be able to see what he was seeing, and then took a very big deep breath before speaking.

“He needs to improve his stance a little bit, don’t you think?”

Wooyoung jolted in place the moment the first word came out of his lips, falling forward in full force and trying to stay hidden as he had to use his hands to not land on his face. Even with his long hair falling on his back Hongjoong could see the redness cover Wooyoung’s neck and ears as he turned to face him completely mortified. The servant, without even thinking twice, jumped on top of the prince and put one of his hands on his mouth to keep him quiet.

“What are you doing here?” He hissed, his eyes completely open in embarrassment.

“I told you I was bored,” Hongjoong laughed as he pushed Wooyoung out of the way, patting his jacket as if he cared about the image he gave when that was the furthest from the truth. “I wanted to know what was so interesting that you needed to wake up so early.”

“You already knew why I was coming,” he replied in an angry voice, still trying to remain as quiet as possible so as not to be discovered, while he put his knees on the ground and brushed the dirt out of his palms. “You didn’t need to actually come here.”

“Oh, I think I did.” Hongjoong smiled big, his teeth showing and his eyes squinting with delight as he looked behind Wooyoung where the guard had approached them clearly surprised by the noise. “Good morning, San.”

The expression on Wooyoung’s face was worth the sleepless night the prince had had. For a moment, the servant seemed to believe that he was joking, but once he registered the light shadow that was casted over them he went completely pale and his body stiffened immediately. Hongjoong stood up then with a tired sigh and, looking at San while he greeted him with a bow of the head, he kicked Wooyoung on the shin to wake him up from his state. 

“Your Highness,” San said with a low voice, his breath still hitched from the training. He held tightly to his sword and Hongjoong quickly imagined how startled he must have been hearing people arguing behind a bush. He had looked ready to attack the intruders. 

Cursing to himself, even when the prince could hear it clearly and San probably did too, Wooyoung stood up as he could and moved behind Hongjoong. That was his place—according to protocol all servants had to remain a couple steps behind the Royal Family—even if both of them only took it seriously when they were surrounded by other people. But this time the prince knew he was just hiding. 

Hongjoong knew San’s manners wouldn’t allow him to speak to him directly even if his expression made it very clear that he was curious about why they were both there. Therefore, the prince took it in his own hands to get the conversation going. “Wooyoung here,” he started, ignoring the poking of his servant’s finger against his rib cage, “was just telling me that you need to improve your stance.”

“What?! No!” Wooyoung screamed, breaking the silence of the place and forcing even the birds to stop singing with surprise. San, however, was unwavering and not even a single ounce of astonishment crossed his features. He stood there, his sword hanging low on his right hand, as he looked at the servant behind Hongjoong with a blank expression on his face. “I didn’t… I didn’t say that. I don’t think that.”

“I’m always open to criticism, it’s the only way to improve,” San finally said in his usual polite tone, still not showing his emotions on his face as a good soldier was supposed to do. “But I didn’t know servants knew much about sword fighting.”

Hongjoong pressed his lips together not to laugh out loud at that, mostly because he could imagine Wooyoung’s expression at the comment. Trying his best to stay calm and not put his servant in an even more compromised position, the prince crossed his arms over his chest and engaged in conversation with the guard to stop him from focusing on Wooyoung.

“Sorry we disturbed your training,” he apologized with a polite smile, shaking his long sleeves to the side in order to be able to hold his hands behind his back. Looking as princely as I should.

“No need to apologize, Your Highness.” Hongjoong would have liked to rub it off, to ask him to stop calling him that but San didn’t give him the chance. “May I ask… why are you wandering around without a proper escort?”

“Shit,” Wooyoung whispered, putting the prince’s thoughts out in the open.

“Well, you see,” Hongjoong started explaining as he got closer to the guard, resting his right hand on his shoulder in an attempt to make him feel more relaxed. Although maybe his status prevented him from making people feel at ease around him. “We were in the Royal Library, I needed to check one thing, and you know how guarded that place is. So I sent my private guards back cause I didn’t need them inside the building. My chambers are very close anyway.”

“You need protection, even if it’s simply for a five minute walk, Your Highness,” San sighed, looking a bit anxious at the fact that he knew about his… unwanted ways.

“Yes, I know that,” Hongjoong stated, peeping rapidly at Wooyoung who was already looking for a way out of the situation, “but it was just this one time. I promise it will not happen again.”

“Still, I…”

“I don’t want to command you to stay quiet, San,” he cut him off, smile still in place but speaking in a stronger tone, “but I will.”

At that the guard stared at him, visibly conflicted and weighing all his options, until he could do nothing but nod in a silent agreement. Happy with that, Hongjoong patted him on the shoulder and turned around to Wooyoung who was visibly panicking. He winked an eye to him, trying to calm him down, and looked back at San encouraging him to go back to his training, which he ended up doing reluctantly.

“Let’s go,” Hongjoong said to his servant as he started walking back to his quarters at a fast pace.

Wooyoung didn’t need anything else. He followed suit, obsessively looking around in case somebody else would see them. It was actually not such a big deal for Hongjoong, not only he had already sneaked out of the palace plenty of times and he had never been discovered, but also he tended to wander about alone with no one to protect him. He honestly didn’t care that much about his own safety, he was not that important anyway, but he worried about Wooyoung’s safety and position. The prince’s decisions on the matter would always be blamed on him and he wasn’t going to let him face a punishment he didn’t deserve.

It was only when they reached his own building that they relaxed, using the same door Hongjoong had gone through before. Wooyoung only breathed properly once they were both inside and the door was completely shut, punching Hongjoong on one arm the moment they were alone.

“I thought you were sleeping! Why the hell did you come out?!” He yelled, formalities and protocol be damned.

“I told you I was bored,” Hongjoong answered, rubbing his arm as he walked slowly into his room. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“And you decided to go out without an escort? To see the Crown Prince’s guard? The same guard that is known for his stern manners and his unwavering sense of duty?!”

“Wow, look who is flustered,” mocked the prince, deciding to ignore the fact that he was right because he hadn’t really thought about anything when he had gone out. He just wanted to have fun for a moment, to forget about his confinement.

“Really, Hongjoong,” Wooyoung sighed in exhaustion standing by the door of the room, arms crossed on his chest. “What is wrong with you today? And don’t tell me you’re bored again.”

“But I am! You forbade me to go out until the next new moon and this is driving me crazy .”

“It’s only two more days, you will be fine.” He shook his hands in front of him, making it obvious that he was exaggerating. 

Hongjoong knew he was being insufferable, that he was behaving like the spoiled prince everyone thought he was, but he was really so tired of being inside the palace. There was absolutely nothing he could do to ease his time there apart from spending time with Wooyoung, and that was totally fine most days but he needed more.

He was so used to going out at night, to walk around the market and drink something in the tavern, that his normal royal life was suffocatingly tight. He had no duties to attend to, no visitors to receive and certainly no business to conduct. He was expected to just be and lay around, but that was not the type of person Hongjoong was.

“Can you behave for two more days?” Wooyoung begged. “ Please?”

“Fine! I will try,” he conceded, because it was almost impossible to deny anything to Wooyoung even if he was a servant. He had his ways of achieving everything he wanted, even from the prince. “But you need to keep me entertained or I will need to take matters into my own hands.”

Until Hongjoong went droopy and tiredness began to take control over his body, both of them sat there talking about the encounter with San. Hongjoong finally able to laugh at Wooyoung’s reaction even when he was being constantly attacked by the servant.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

It felt as if the new moon was dragging its arrival and with every minute that got him closer to his freedom Hongjoong felt more and more restless. His skin was already itching just thinking about crossing the palace walls and becoming no one. All he wanted was to talk about everything he was going to do during that night but Wooyoung wouldn’t let him. He had been worrying about someone discovering him since San had threatened to expose them, even when Hongjoong had assured him a thousand times that they were safe.

It was not until life in the palace started dying down and the outside was as deserted as it should be during the night that Wooyoung opened a secret compartment on the floor of the storage room and took out a blue hanbok with a silver flower pattern on it. It was very different from the clothes Hongjoong was supposed to wear as a prince, the quality was not as good as the one he was used to but he had to be careful with his identity. So, ever since he had started involving Wooyoung on his unusual escapades, the servant had started buying suits for himself so he could share them with Hongjoong and he could use them when going out. Luckily they had a similar size and could share the clothing without major adjustments, which made everything easier for the both of them. 

With Wooyoung's help he was ready in no time. Finishing the look with a small ponytail to keep his hair at bay which he tied up with a purple ribbon that fell to his back. The prince didn’t have hair as long as the servant, even though the people from the palace had told him multiple times to let it grow because it made him look more distinguished, he preferred it shorter. It was easier to handle and it didn’t bother him when he was reading, which was pretty much all the time.

After everything seemed to be in place, Hongjoong was inspected by his servant. Even when Wooyoung usually came across as messy or chaotic sometimes, he took this part of the job very seriously. He never let him go until he was satisfied, completely sure that nothing the prince had on could give him away.

“C'mon, we don't need to be that careful,” the prince rushed, eager to finally leave.

“Yes we do. Maybe you don't mind getting killed but I would like to keep my job.”

Hongjoong chuckled at that. Mainly because he knew Wooyoung was just joking, but he had a point. If, for whatever reason, he was killed that night he wouldn't have to deal with the mess he would leave behind, but Wooyoung would. And even if not for himself, he wanted to be careful for his friend.

When everything seemed to Wooyoung’s liking, he passed Hongjoong a small pouch with coins, not too many to call people's attention but enough to spend during the night if he wanted to, and the prince put it in one inside pocket of the jacket. It felt heavy, more than he was used to since he didn't need to carry money anywhere when he was at the palace. As a matter of fact, he probably wasn't even allowed to and he could almost see the faces of the Council members if they saw him managing his own money in the city, but he loved the sense of freedom and independence that it gave him.

“Okay, remember,” said Wooyoung as they walked to the secret back door of the building and then continued hiding behind the vegetation until they reached the access point Hongjoong always used, “if you’re not back before sunrise I’m sending the whole army to get you.”

“Yes, sir,” the prince answered with a giggle, always finding it incredibly amusing when Wooyoung ordered him around. “Keep the fort safe.”

With that he turned around and walked outside the palace, feeling the adrenaline run through his veins and the weight of his position disappearing as he put one foot outside. He was only two steps away when Wooyoung called him in a whisper, so he turned around assuming he had forgotten something.

“Don’t get yourself killed.”

“I won’t.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

From the wall he had crossed, the way to the city was the longest but he didn’t mind the walk. It was more the loneliness that bothered him, so he kept filling the silence with his little sounds: the breaking of a branch to his right, the hoot of an owl behind him, the noise of an animal walking in front of him. For most his power was useless, especially since he liked using it like this and not for anything major, but it had kept him out of trouble more than once. He could use it as a distraction, a way to keep people’s attention away from him long enough to flee.

The path he had to follow was hidden inside a forest, the one where the Royal Hunts took place and that was partially forbidden to anyone outside the palace. However, it was not heavily patrolled but only a few guards were posted in the border to avoid peasants from sneaking close to the walls and Hongjoong knew exactly where to find them. Even when there was almost no light on the way, the prince didn’t really feel like he needed it as he knew exactly where to go. He had followed this same path a lot of times already and not even once he had gotten lost in the forest, even able to recognize some of the trees he had marked on the first times he had ventured outside.

Feeling how he could breathe easily with every step that moved him further away from the palace, he walked with light feet and not a single worry in his mind. He couldn’t wait to be walking the city’s busy streets, listening to the conversations of strangers that didn’t have to measure every word that came through their mouths and buying something to drink without asking for permission. Nevertheless, he didn’t rush the walk, enjoying the company of the trees and the stars above.

He didn’t realize he was being followed until he heard the flapping of wings, a sound that he hadn’t created himself, so he turned his head backwards looking for the origin and the beating of his heart calmed down only after he spotted the white owl. Even when it disturbed him every night it felt like seeing a familiar face in a sea of strangers, so Hongjoong waved at it with a soft smile on his lips and continued walking. However, the owl didn’t stay on that branch but flew past him to a different tree a couple metres in front of him.

Ignoring the strange behaviour of the animal, Hongjoong kept walking only to notice it do it again and again. Was this magic? He didn’t think so, he certainly didn’t know of anyone who could transform into an animal, but still he became cautious all of a sudden considering the possibility. What if he had been discovered? What if he was really going to get killed after he had joked about it with Wooyoung? Getting a little paranoid as time went by, he tried to ignore the owl following him and went a different way in an attempt to shake it off. Taking a turn he had never taken before, he stepped past a fallen trunk and brushed some branches out of the way with his eyes lingering on the top of the trees as he looked for the owl. Using his magic he reproduced a hoot in the place where he had last seen the animal and waited until he could hear a response, a real one, to get confirmation that the owl was still perched on that branch. Only then he exhaled deeply and felt his body relax, wanting to laugh at the sudden fear that had surged inside him.

After walking past a line of bushes he finally found the river bed he was looking for, following its course would take him directly to the city without getting lost in this new path. The rumbling of the water made him feel at ease, no need to use his power to fill the quietness, and he kept walking in a distracted and easy manner enjoying the view of the sky since the top of the trees were parted. However, the sound of water played him dirty, preventing him from hearing the steps on the other side of the river until it was too late and a figure appeared in the border of the forest.

Scared to have been found, Hongjoong got to the floor as quickly as he could and stayed there, unmoving, until he confirmed that the other person had not seen him. Then and only then, he crawled as quietly as he could towards the forest, looking for a plant big enough to hide his full body and wait there until the stranger had left the place.

It was not long until he could be sure that the encounter was purely casual and that this person had neither been following nor looking for him. In fact, he looked completely clueless to Hongjoong’s presence so close to him. The prince tried to control his breathing, make it as soft as possible, completely paranoid about being discovered, without moving his eyes away from the figure. It was hard to tell if it was a man or a woman since a large cape with a hood was over its head covering the features of the face and the upper body.

The person looked calm, enjoying the place as it looked towards the sky and picked up a few plants from its surroundings. Hongjoong was still on the forbidden side of the forest so he couldn’t stop wondering how this person had managed to get there, was he not the only one who could find his way across the guards? And why was this the first time he had encountered someone? With a thousand questions on his head he jolted in surprise when the figure turned around in the blink of an eye and positioned his body in a defensive stance. They were not alone.

However the tension of the stranger’s body disappeared as quickly as it had been formed, the arms falling still to both sides of his body in a relaxed way. “Ah, it’s you,” Hongjoong heard over the water running and next thing he knew the person before him was reaching up with both his hands to remove the hood and allow whoever was there to see him fully.

Hongjoong had to stifle the shocking sound that threatened to come out of his mouth as he could finally see who was on the other side of the river bed, as it was probably the most breathtaking person he had ever laid eyes on. It was a man, tall and slim, with a hair as white as the moon that fell to his shoulders with a silky appearance. His profile, for that was pretty much everything the prince could see for now, was perfect. The line of his nose, the plump lips raising into a smile, the cut of his jaw against his neck, the way his skin seemed to glow even in the darkness of the night. 

It was very obvious that he was one of the Blessed by the Moon, forever branded by the colour of his hair since they were all born with it as white as the Moon. His appearance gave no room to doubt, but as he turned a bit towards where Hongjoong was hiding he was surprised to see that his eyes looked as dark as the depths of the forest behind him. There were a bunch of servants in the palace with the same hair tone, but Hongjoong had never been able to speak to them and fulfill his hunger for knowledge. Still all of the ones he could remember having encountered had lighter eyes, not as bright as their hair but not as dark as the person’s in front of him. Wooyoung had been right to have him wait for the new moon after all. It was widely known that Blessed by the Moon were powerless during moonless nights, so he could rest assured that even if he was discovered the stranger was not able to use his magic in any way.

Swallowing hard, wishing he could walk towards him and admire him from a close distance, Hongjoong’s eyes followed the line of the stranger's gaze and was surprised again as a small deer came out in the open and walked directly to the man, who held a hand open in front of him. So he was talking to the deer? His question was immediately answered when the man patted the head of the animal as he talked again, in a soft and mellow voice.

“You’ve grown since last month,” he simply stated, the smile never leaving his lips. “I’m glad to see you again.”

The fawn, back still filled with those bright spots that made him easily recognized as a youngling, licked the man’s hand once and stayed in place as he scratched its head with his fingers. A deer so young should have been close to its mother, but since no other animal was on sight Hongjoong wondered if it was an orphan and the man had taken into his own hands to nurture it.

“You shouldn’t be walking around all alone,” he continued lowering himself, one knee on the floor, to keep the animal at eye level. “But since you’re already here…”

As if it understood, the small fawn stomped onto the floor in excitement and moved around the man as he walked around the area, bending down from time to time to pick something from the ground. When he was done gathering whatever he needed he sat on the floor and the animal laid beside him, eyes locked on the man’s hands as he prepared something Hongjoong couldn’t see from where he was. A moment later, some sort of light illuminated the two figures on the floor and it was not until the man lifted a small flower crown to put it on the deer’s head that the prince understood.

He was using magic. During a new moon. Hongjoong had heard and even read about some Blessed who were even more special than the rest. He knew the theory, that those born under a new moon could wield their powers even at nights like that one, but he had always believed it to be a myth. 

Completely fascinated by what he was seeing, Hongjoong stayed where he was observing how the deer stood up in a hurry, disappearing inside the forest for a few moments as he ran with excitement around the area until its mother appeared behind it. The adult animal seemed to salute the man with a bow of the head as the youngling kept moving around them showing his slightly illuminated crown proudly. The man bowed back to the animal and patted the fawn's head one last time before the two were gone and he was left alone.

Laying on the floor, eyes locked into the sky, the white-haired man stayed there mumbling to himself things that Hongjoong couldn’t catch until he seemed content enough and vanished behind the leaves of the trees and the darkness.

After that, Hongjoong walked back to the palace still in a daze, unable to shake the feeling that he had seen something private and very special at the same time.

Chapter Text

As he did every month when the moon was missing and the darkness seemed to be his only companion, Seonghwa visited the forest in an attempt to avoid the dazzling city and its inhabitants. It wasn’t that he craved solitude, but rather that he felt the need to hide from their gazes on those nights in particular. His white hair had always made him feel exposed, and even though it wasn't common knowledge that his black eyes were an indicator of his ability to wield magic in the absence of the moon, Seonghwa still felt self conscious about it.

It wasn't like he was constantly using magic in his daily life. He didn't like to show off, and he definitely didn't need to use it to survive. Most of those around him didn't know what his power really was because he preferred to conceal it. But he could feel the weight of their gazes on his blazing white hair, marking him as different.

The forest made him feel at ease on nights like these, his only company being the eyes of the animals and the sound of the leaves brushing against each other. No judgement, no second thoughts. Under the cover of the trees, Seonghwa could embrace himself and his magic without having to worry about appearances.

Differently to how some Blessed by the Moon behaved, Seonghwa didn’t believe he was superior to regular people. He had grown to be used to his condition, but didn’t have any strong feelings towards it. It was simply who he was, nothing more. He was not special, just one more of a bunch of people who had similar powers and white hair, the only thing that set him apart was his ability to draw magic even when the moon was gone. And even with that, he was still not the only one.

Wanting to stay like that, one more person in a sea of white hair, he had run away from the city and made the most out of his time in the forest before heading back with a lighter heart. It felt nice to be able to do things he normally couldn’t, to feel his strength and power boosted, but he refused to be seen by others out of fear of rejection. He had been rejected enough times already in his life, he didn’t really need it to happen again. So, with the trees, the stars and the river as his only witnesses, he talked to the small fawn that seemed to know exactly when he would pass by and made him a flower crown with the remnants of moonlight that he could still feel running through his veins.

On normal days his power was limited to charming people, making them tell him what he needed or do whatever he asked them to do. It had its limitations, of course, it worked better on those who were already willing and it only helped a bit with those who wanted him gone from the beginning, but it came in handy. Especially since the nature of his job was discovering people’s secrets in order to use them in his—more like the organization’s he worked for—benefit.

But on these nights his senses were sharper and his mind seemed to have an adrenaline rush that made him able to do so many more things than he was used to. He could understand an animal's speech to a certain degree, very basic and not like those who communicated with them on a regular basis. He could create spotlights with the silver rays of the moon, although he had learnt with time that it consumed a lot of his energy and his body could only withstand it if he did it around three times. His charming abilities remained the same, maybe a little bit stronger but nothing too crazy, and he preferred it that way not to call too much attention upon himself.

After a moment sitting by the river bed admiring the stars and humming a tune to himself, he finally stood up and decided to go back to reality. Although he didn’t have to work—he specifically asked for a free day every new moon—he still had to make his way back to the Tea House and check that everything there was going okay.

The Twilight Tea House, the only one in the city and with enough fame to gather people from other corners of the country, was the biggest attraction of the capital and it hosted a lot of people on normal nights. It was a place of passage where merchants spent nights while doing their businesses in the city, visitors stopped by to rest during their long journeys and locals went to have a good time if they could pay for it. It was mostly known for the company it provided, since most of its residents and employees were Blessed by the Moon, and the shows that took place there. It was especially crowded from the middle of the afternoon until past midnight, when all the rich men and women decided to go waste their money in its rooms. 

Visitors from other places sometimes mistook the Tea House with a brothel, but it was nothing of the sort. It prided itself on being purely entertainment, protecting its employees from—in theory—anything they didn’t want to do and leaving anything sexual out the doors. The rules were simple, strict and on display by the door for everyone to see before entering, that way whenever someone broke them they could be kicked out without blinking. 

Besides being heavily guarded and controlled, new moon nights were a bit complicated there. Most days the clients stayed the same, regulars whose names everyone in the place already knew, but these nights were filled with people who visited just lured by the fact that the Blessed by the Moon were rendered powerless by the moonless sky. Sometimes it felt like they just wanted to see an oddity, almost as if they wanted to feel equal to the magic-ridden employees. Some people even tried to take advantage of the situation, although the security system that they had in the place worked perfectly in those cases and, after enough time in the business, everyone was specially alert on those nights.

Even with the certainty that all the workers and residents in Twilight were heavily protected and taken care of, Seonghwa always felt uneasy during his night escapades, constantly worried about what he had left back “home”. He was just another employee, but since he had been in the place for the longest time he had already managed a reputation that allowed him to have a certain control over his life. He was freer than the rest to refuse clients and invitations, didn’t need to perform unless he wanted to and could stay behind the scenes on pretty much everything. His real job consisted of obtaining information from those important enough to call the attention of the association that worked in the shadows behind the Tea House, so the only time when he had to meddle and fake flirt with clients was when information about them was required by his bosses. He never really knew what they did with the intel he provided, but it paid good enough for him and his family to have a decent life and that was all he cared about.

When he finally laid eyes on the sign, the door was already closed so he used his own key to the back door and let himself in as he took a look around, confirming that nothing notorious had happened in his absence. It looked quiet, as it should, and only a couple of workers were still cleaning a few tables in the dim light of the candles that had been left on.

The building consisted of four floors. The first one was an open space with a stage and a lot of tables where the customers could sit and drink, a kitchen hidden behind a door on the back. The second and third floors had bedrooms available for renting, making the place work as a hostel for those travelers that needed a place to stay. And the fourth floor was reserved to the employees, where their accommodations were located and nobody else had access to.

After dragging himself to the fourth floor, Seonghwa approached his own door and only stopped when a whisper called him from the other side of the corridor. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was—one of a handful of voices he would be able to recognize anywhere—so when he did he already had a soft smile on his lips.

Already wearing his night clothes, Yongbok hung onto his door with only half his body peeping into the corridor. His long white hair was tugged in a low bun with some strands falling near his eyes, and although he looked tired his smile didn’t flatter as Seonghwa looked at him. He looked so young, Seonghwa always felt a tug on his chest whenever he laid eyes on him, the same he had felt the first time they had met.

There were so many people working and living in the establishment that Seonghwa couldn’t properly remember the first time he had met all of them, but some first encounters had stuck with him. Yongbok had been one of those, Seonghwa could perfectly remember how he had decided to shelter him under his care the moment he had set foot on the place with a protection instinct that forced him to watch over him every step of the way. Only a few of the people who lived in the Tea House had been privileged enough to be taken under Seonghwa’s wing, and Yongbok had been one of them.

Sometimes he was asked by others how he decided on his next protégé, wanting to do anything possible to be the next, but the truth was that he didn’t have any requirements that someone needed to fill for him to decide on taking care of them. He just went with whatever his heart told him to do, letting his own feelings take the lead. Normally he just went with those who looked the most lost, who had a very innocent appearance, making him feel an urge to protect them and preserve that innocence at all cost. Maybe Seonghwa had lost his own a long time ago, but if he could protect those boys even a little bit more from the horrors of this cruel world, he would.

“How did it go?” Seonghwa asked in the same low tone, trying not to disturb the rest.

“Not too bad,” Yongbok answered in that characteristically deep voice of his that still felt like velvet to Seonghwa’s ears, just like the first time he had heard it. “How was your night?”

The eldest shrugged in place as nothing special had happened in his forest escapade and, therefore, he couldn’t really complain or think of anything worth mentioning. However at the last moment, when the other was about to speak again, he remembered something he would like.

“I saw the baby fawn again.”

The light igniting in Yongbok’s expression and how his eyes got adorably bigger at the mere mention of the little creature were worth every syllable he had said. Being younger and not as experienced, Yongbok wasn’t allowed to venture outside as often as Seonghwa did, not even mentioning going out at night, so the eldest always tried to give him as much information as he could about his walks for him to feel a little less caged in the same four walls of the Tea House. Of course his friend knew about the little encounters he had been having with the little thing, he had even tried to give it a name and loved receiving updates on its state.

“It’s bigger now, but still as playful,” Seonghwa continued, turning his body completely and walking closer to him so he could keep his voice as low as possible. “I had to make him another flower crown.”

“I wish I could meet him…” he sighed with sudden sadness crossing his expression, one specific type of sadness that Seonghwa couldn’t stand and regretted having put in the angelic features of his protégé.

“Maybe I can take you one day,” he tried to comfort him, and that alone—although both knew well that was likely impossible—seemed to be enough for Yongbok, who recovered his contagious smile and nodded energetically. “You should rest now.”

At that, without saying anything else because it was not really needed as they both cherished their silences, Yongbok waved him good night and disappeared back inside his room.

Alone again, Seonghwa opened his own door to his bedroom and sat near the window, admiring the night view of the city before finally going to sleep.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Having a mostly nocturnal job implied that the Blessed by the Moon at Twilight didn’t wake up until the sun was already high in the sky and Seonghwa was no exception. Although their nature made them intrinsically night creatures, some of their kind had a normal life under the sun with their powers intact, but their job in the Tea House forced them to go to bed when everyone else was already deep in sleep.

Seonghwa was used to it after so many years with the same old routine so he always tried to make the best out of the daylight, since that was the only real free time they had. Yongbok was waiting for him with his bedroom door open, already dressed with a light green hanbok and his hair perfectly held in a ponytail consisting of a few decorated braids. Seonghwa had never been able to control his hair like Yongbok did, not even now that it was shorter, and was always surprised by his abilities. The contrast between the two of them never failed to make him smile, for while Yongbok liked to adorn his clothes and hair, Seonghwa was more discreet. He had opted for a purple hanbok, simple and without any sort of embroidery in it, and had kept his hair loose. No complements, nothing to draw extra attention on him, just a simple belt around his waist.

Greeting Yongbok with a tired smile, the eldest waved a hand towards him to get going. They never talked about the plan they would follow during the morning beforehand, they simply decided on whatever felt good in the moment. Some days they just walked around, others they bought some things they needed, occasionally they would buy some new clothes or shoes; and others, if they were lucky, they would meet Seonghwa’s friends outside the Tea House. But something always stayed the same: they were always together, no matter what Yongbok couldn’t stay away from Seonghwa’s gaze at any time.

Walking around the city, admiring the shops, taking a look at different items, enjoying the smell of the foods prepared in the establishments or some of the houses in the area, they walked side by side in a calm and peaceful way. Those native to the city were already used to the presence of white-haired people, some even knew them by name because of their visits to the Tea House or because they were regulars to their own businesses, but visitors were easily spotted staring at them. Seonghwa had learnt to ignore it, although it still bugged him how it made him feel like a caged animal on display.

In Lunaris the presence of Blessed by the Moons was completely normal, not even a bit of discrimination was directed in their way, and the same rights applied to them. However, some people were resentful that they themselves hadn't been born with the same power and took it into their own hands to make their lives a little bit more complicated than usual. It never got serious, just a few comments or mean looks, but enough for Seonghwa to grab Yongbok by the sleeve of his jacket and get him away from there. Yongbok didn’t deserve to notice, so he did everything he could to protect him. Luckily the vast majority of the people treated them normally, not giving them any kind of special treatment, and they could enjoy their morning strolls without incident.

Everyday it was Yongbok who decided the path they had to go through, taking the turns and streets he felt like on the day, and Seonghwa just followed him because he didn’t care where they went to as long as they were together. Having grown without a proper family for most of his life, only not very pleasant memories of his father stuck in his mind, he considered those he had decided to protect his chosen family. Yongbok was his little brother, even if blood didn’t agree on that, and he would take care of him like one. Alone and lonely as he had been for so much time, Seonghwa valued every second he spent in company, grateful that he found every single one of them.

Seonghwa didn’t notice where they really were, focused on looking at Yongbok’s cheerful and delighted expression, until he stopped in his tracks. Following his gaze, Seonghwa realized his brother had stopped in front of the Royal Palace, an area of the city that he normally avoided. It was not good for his job to be recognized by the guards, so he tried to stay away from the palace and everyone who looked like could work inside its walls. It was safer that way so he slightly pushed Yongbok’s shoulder to keep on moving but he didn’t even budge.

“How big do you think it is?” He asked without turning to look at Seonghwa, completely mesmerized by the big red and golden door a couple metres in front of them.

“Big enough to be able to be ignored for a whole week, I bet,” he answered in a quite melancholic tone, wishing he could be forgotten as easily sometimes.

“How do you think it must be living inside there?”

“Very different to how we have to live, that’s for sure,” he sighed, pushing him again and finally getting the other’s attention, who pouted and frowned because Seonghwa was not playing his game. “Fine! I think it must be nice not to worry about your next meal and be free enough to spend your days however you please.”

“Don’t you think it must be pretty boring?” He asked again with a certain pity in his eyes. “I mean, the employees can go in and out but the Royal Family is always stuck there.”

“They are not stuck, Yongbok-ah,” Seonghwa said as he shook his head and put a hand on his shoulder to force him to move away. “They are the people with the most freedom in this whole country, they can literally do whatever they want to. Don’t pity them, pity yourself.”

“You’re no fun today,” Yongbok sighed and gave up.

They walked back as comfortably as they had arrived, leaving the conversation and the door to the palace behind them.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

That night, Seonghwa’s job consisted of overlooking that everything was going as it should, checking that all the guests were behaving properly and that the employees were as comfortable as they could. It was not a busy night, not a lot of work on their hands, so he didn’t need to move around as he usually did. He checked on Yongbok more often than on the others, just to be safe, but he was looking okay every time.

He was completely distracted, separating the empty vases from those filled with alcohol as he tried to memorize the amount they would need to refill the next morning, when a familiar voice called him from behind.

“What does a man need to do to get drunk over here?”

Seonghwa turned around already with the brightest smile on his lips, his chest starting to warm up even before he had laid his eyes on the person at the other side of the bar. The purple and simple hanbok he had decided to wear made him look even taller, if that was even possible, and his white hair seemed a bit longer than last time they had seen each other. His gummy smile covered most of his face as he looked at Seonghwa, forearms leaning against the counter.

“Just use your former employee privilege,” Seonghwa answered as he walked towards him with a bottle already in hand.

Mingi had been working at Twilight until last year, when he had finally taken Seonghwa’s advice and made his relationship official. One of the rules that applied to the workers at Twilight was that they could not be in a formal relationship and still work at the Tea House, clients didn’t like it and it had also caused problems with their partners in the past. They were not forbidden to go and meet people or even to have sex, they were free to do as they pleased, but the moment things got serious they had to decide: the job or their relationship. Most kept their romance hidden until they were sure enough about it, afraid that if they lost their job and the partner they had chosen rejected them after resigning they would end up with nothing, but they were in no way forced to do it.

Mingi had renounced only after a wedding date had been decided, wanting to keep the income until the very last minute to support his husband to be. Seonghwa had insisted that he quit before, eager to finally get him out of there, but he had been stubborn until the last second. His now husband, Yunho, hadn’t minded his job in the least and had supported his decision but Seonghwa was not as easy going.

Having met him when he first arrived at the Tea House, Mingi had become the first protégé of Seonghwa, who had decided to show him around after seeing his big sad eyes wander around the place. Mingi had never really belonged in that place, that had been very obvious for Seonghwa since the first moment he saw him, but he hadn't had anywhere else to go. Most of the people working at Twilight had similar stories: too poor or uneducated to do anything else, they arrived at the Tea House looking for an opportunity to earn honest money. Mingi hadn’t been as young as Seonghwa when he first arrived but it still reminded him of himself so much he couldn’t stay away.

He had actually become Seonghwa’s first friend as well as the first Blessed by the Moon he allowed in his inner circle. Having someone so similar to him around helped him greatly to accept himself and learn about how his own magic worked, even when they had different powers. While Seonghwa could charm people with the blink of an eye, Mingi could understand any language to a basic level. That was the main reason why he was also offered  a side job, just like the eldest, gaining information about the targets he was given. He had never been fully happy, just content, until he met Yunho in the market one day.

“Yunho is over there at a table,” Mingi explained as Seonghwa wrapped him in his arms. “He brought a friend.”

“A friend?” Seonghwa asked, making a strange face. They never came with someone else, he didn’t even know they had other friends, although it made sense considering how social Yunho always was.

“Yeah, he’s almost always working so we could never bring him for you to meet.”

That put his mind at ease, not because he was feeling jealous at the presence of another friend but because he didn’t trust people in general. He could count with the fingers of one hand the amount of people he could really trust with his life, the rest of the citizens in that damn city were simply a means to an end for him. He was always cautious around others, constantly on guard and gathering information about them in case he might need it later on, even when Mingi and Yunho mocked him for being like that. Seonghwa didn’t mind being called paranoid or overprotective as long as they understood that he needed to make sure people around them were worthy enough to be with them. He could watch over them all while they had fun, always ready to intervene if necessary.

“Can you join us?” Mingi dared to ask as they walked towards the table, one at the end near a wall where they wouldn’t be disturbed.

“I might have to go back and forth, but it’s a quiet night.”

Mingi smiled broadly at that, visibly happy to be able to spend time together. It was not that long since the last time they saw each other, but after living together for more than eight years being apart felt… wrong. Seonghwa was delighted that Mingi had a different life now, he was proud of him for how he had changed the course of his life and followed his heart, but he missed him dearly every morning when he woke up and Mingi was not there to talk to. They used to spend every minute of their day together, relying on each other, and now that he was married and had a new life Seonghwa felt somehow empty.

Of course he had Yongbok, but he felt like every person in his small circle gave him very different things. While Yongbok was brightness and light and warmth; for Seonghwa Mingi was reassurance, quietness and tolerance. And when one of them was absent in any way he felt incomplete.

Seonghwa spotted Yunho without trying too hard. The man was as tall as Mingi, if not even taller, and had an energy to him that drew anyone’s attention towards him. He was laughing hard, his shoulders shaking as his eyes squinted. His short brown hair slightly wavy fell around his face making him look even more cheerful than he already was. The first time Mingi had told him about Yunho, Seonghwa had felt wary and had tried to keep his friend alert in case this person was trying to use him, but after meeting Yunho there had been no doubt in his mind that they were perfect for each other. From his perspective as an outsider it looked as if they complimented each other, filling each other’s gaps and making the other a better version of himself. Even with all the precautionary measures Seonghwa always took when meeting someone, he had been easily swayed after a brief first conversation with Yunho.

In front of him, so Seonghwa could only see his back, there was another man with long and black hair tucked in a high ponytail, a dark green hanbok that looked more expensive than Yunho’s and a very high voice tone. He was talking non-stop and even when Seonghwa couldn’t really catch any real words from a distance, it was obvious that the stranger was talking very fast and very energetically.

“Where do you know him from again?” He asked when they were barely five metres away from the table.

“He’s known Yunho for a while now, they were friends before we even met,” Mingi explained patiently with that smile on his lips that made it clear how ready he was for teasing Seonghwa with his interrogatory. “Whatever you want to know just ask them yourself.”

Seonghwa groaned slightly at that, he preferred having a base before getting close to someone, but if Mingi insisted then he would do it. The two men were still talking and laughing when they got closer.

“He wanted to come with me today,” the stranger was saying, “like I needed that.”

“Who wanted to come?” Seonghwa asked in a hard tone, very different from how he had been talking to Mingi barely a few seconds ago. 

The man turned around the moment he heard Seonghwa speak, the remnants of the laughter on his face. He had a marked jawline and a prominent nose that matched his features perfectly, plump lips and thick eyebrows. Besides the long hair on his back, the front was slightly shorter framing his face and only showing a small fraction of his forehead. He looked at Seonghwa with big brown eyes – one slightly smaller than the other – and a rather confused expression most likely provoked by the strict tone on Seonghwa’s voice.

“My boss,” he responded almost immediately after taking a full look at the eldest, not stopping even once in any of his features like some others did. Either his platinum hair, his dark eyes or his general features tended to attract people, that was the main reason why he was so good at his job after all. “Never take your boss out for a drink.”

Mingi laughed next to Seonghwa and put a hand on his shoulders as he did so, calling the young man’s attention. The boy—he didn’t look much younger than Mingi or Yunho but somehow he seemed more childlike to Seonghwa for a reason—suddenly opened his eyes wide, scared of having said the wrong thing.

“Wait, is he your boss?” He whispered to Mingi, making himself smaller on his seat.

“Used to be… more or less,” Mingi answered, forcing Seonghwa to push him a bit to shut him up.

“I’m Seonghwa,” he finally introduced himself with a small bow, seeing as his two friends didn’t seem like collaborating.

“Wooyoung,” the other answered, bowing back, the smile coming back to his lips. Before Seonghwa could ask him about himself, get enough information to determine if he was good or bad company, Wooyoung turned back towards Yunho to keep on talking. “Imagine if he had come, you know how badly I deserve to drink in peace.”

“You always complain about him,” Yunho said, waving at Seonghwa slightly before focusing back on the seated figure “but it’s obvious you like him.”

“He is okay, I guess…”

“What do you do for a living?” Seonghwa asked as he sat next to him, assuming Mingi would want to sit next to his husband.

He was determined to get his precious information about this new person, whatever it took. However, even when he could easily use his charming powers and take everything without putting much effort into it, he didn’t want to use his magic on a friend of Yunho’s. It felt abusive in a way so he settled with a basic interrogatory.

“I’m a servant,” he simply answered as he nodded, as if he was proud of it.

Not like he shouldn’t have been, it was an honorable job and Seonghwa was sure that it made more money than his hours at Twilight, but it was something that he would never be able to do himself. It sounded even more restrictive than his current life, and having to always be available for someone else was the most unappealing thing of it all. You needed manners to be a servant as well as patience and Seonghwa had none of those two things.

“How did you meet Yunho?” He continued, ignoring the shared look between his friends who simply poured the alcohol in the three glasses on the table – Seonghwa didn’t drink.

“My family used to regularly visit his family’s store.”

It was such a simple sentence, no details added to it even when he had looked like a chatty person before Seonghwa had joined them, and that fact alone made him more eager to know. He was good at reading people, discovering what they wanted from him and how he could obtain what he needed in return, so the fact that he had thought Wooyoung to be an easy target just for him to answer vaguely was bugging him a little. Maybe he felt unsure with someone he didn’t know around and, if that was the case, Seonghwa couldn’t blame him because he was the same.

“I don’t remember seeing you around before tonight,” Seonghwa added, trying to keep it low, resolving to make himself more friendly in the stranger’s eyes in order to discover who he was.

“I don’t remember seeing you either,” he answered as he turned to look at Seonghwa with an entertained expression, clearly aware that the man was trying to know more about him.

“I spend most of my time hidden, what’s your excuse?”

“I don’t come often and when I do it’s not for long periods of time.”

Seonghwa kept staring at him, looking for something that he could use, a small thread he could start pulling from, but there was nothing. He was giving nothing away, not even a little wave in his voice that indicated he was lying or a twitch in his expression. Nothing. It almost felt like…

“You told him, didn’t you?” He suddenly realized turning to Mingi and Yunho who immediately started laughing out loud, the second pouring another full glass to Wooyoung as a celebration.

“You looked so frustrated,” joked Mingi, slapping Seonghwa’s shoulder.

“He was not understanding a thing,” continued Yunho.

“Sorry about that, they told me to do it,” Wooyoung apologized in the midst of the chaos. “They said they would buy me a drink if I kept you on your toes with your questions, and I can’t refuse a free drink.”

“Maybe I should stop the alcohol from coming to this table altogether,” Seonghwa added with a fake angry expression, more hurt on his ego for not realising sooner than by the joke in itself.

“No, c’mon!” Added Wooyoung before the other two could say anything. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“You will? Why?”

Seonghwa was now definitely confused, even more than before when he was trying to find a weak spot on the stranger before him. People didn't give anything for free, people didn't share things about their private lives with someone they didn’t know, not unless Seonghwa charmed them. Why would anyone be willing to share in the first place? He certainly tried very hard for the rest of the world to not really see him, so he couldn’t comprehend why Wooyoung was offering to tell him whatever he wanted so openly.

“Because you seem to need that,” he shrugged as if that was the only possible answer just before he took a sip of his drink. “They told me you would ask a lot of questions, I imagine that you just don’t trust people easily which… I understand. So if I can help you trust me, even if just a little bit, I will.”

He sounded so sincere, so truthful with that soft smile on his lips that made him even younger, that Seonghwa could do nothing more than nod at him. People never offered information or help, especially not to him. People had never really helped him much during his life, with a couple exceptions only, so he was feeling a little puzzled at the situation. What surprised him the most was that he believed every word Wooyoung had said. He believed his intentions, his will to help, and that was far from common.

And just like that Wooyoung had moved from being a mysterious person Seonghwa couldn’t figure out with his vague answers, to the biggest open book he had ever encountered. Without a real question needed, he started talking about how he had met Yunho and all the years they had spent playing together until he had started training for his current job. He also explained a bit about the first time he met Mingi and how he had been doubtful about him – apparently Wooyoung had thought Mingi looked intimidating on their first meeting, which made Seonghwa laugh hard.

The couple asked him about someone else, a crush he had. Seonghwa didn’t really know the story, there was a lot he was missing about it, but it was made very clear that Wooyoung liked someone in his work place and he was constantly embarrassing himself. Yunho kept teasing him about it, asking him when he was going to finally say something, but Wooyoung had shoved the question away and changed the subject to something he was more willing to talk about.

Surprisingly enough it didn’t take much for Seonghwa to actually like the guy. He was very different from all the other people Seonghwa had kept under his care, all of them chosen because he felt a certain protective instinct towards them since he believed they couldn’t protect themselves. But Wooyoung seemed more than capable to do so. He looked independent and resolute, and it didn’t take Seonghwa long to also realize that he didn’t mind talking back if he believed he had to.

It made him feel strange, partially uncomfortable, to think how easily he had let himself soften around a person he had just met. He was not like that, even Yunho had had to work his way into Seonghwa’s heart when he was already planning to get married to Mingi. Seonghwa was not known for being easy going or accepting of people, he was normally cold with strangers and it took him a while to open himself with others – even Yongbok and Mingi didn’t know everything about his past, he was very careful of what he shared. He didn’t like keeping secrets from them but sometimes it was the only way.

After a few hours of the three drinking and talking non-stop while Seonghwa sat there with them, taking casual looks around the place in case he was needed somewhere else, Mingi and Wooyoung were horribly drunk. Yunho was trying to convince them to go home, but none of them seemed to want to do that.

“I’m not leaving yet!!” Wooyoung yelled as he hit the table with his right fist. His cheeks and ears were completely red, his eyes looked blurry and his words were mixing together. “It’s my free day and I don’t follow orders on my free days.”

Seonghwa looked at Yunho as he tried to keep the bottle of alcohol away from Mingi’s hands, not sure of what to do about Wooyoung. He knew how to take care of Mingi when he was drunk, he had done it before, but he felt very uneasy doing the same for someone he knew for only a bunch of hours. What type of drunk was he? Would he let Seonghwa move him around? Was he the type to vomit?

Seeing how everything was turning, he resolved to use his status in the Tea House since he knew that worked wonders with Mingi and stood up to take the bottles from the table. He started taking back those that were already empty before moving to the one that had some liquid inside still. Yunho let him do so, but Mingi protested loudly until Seonghwa gave him a reprimanding look and he simply sat down with a pout.

“We’re leaving,” stated Yunho, now that his partner seemed calmer and more receptive, and stood up without much problem besides the amount of alcohol he had drunk himself.

“Why? I don’t want to leave?” Asked Wooyoung, suddenly all his energy and anger were left aside. He looked softer, smaller and a bit lost as if suddenly his bubbly personality had dissolved into the air and he had no energy left to be loud.

“It’s late, we will close soon,” Seonghwa answered in an attempt to help Yunho with the situation. He had had to deal with drunk people a lot before, although now it was not as common, and that sentence always seemed to work on them. It felt like they were magic words that made almost everyone go back to their senses and accept the fact that they had to abandon the establishment. 

“Oh, okay.” Wooyoung simply nodded, putting his palms on the table to get up and failing miserably, forcing Seonghwa to run to his side to stop him from falling to the ground. “I don’t want to keep you working longer than you have to…”

Yunho holding Mingi and Seonghwa doing the same for Wooyoung, shared a look and shook both their heads. The two drunk men had fueled each other’s drinking habit during the night and when normally Mingi had to be slightly carried away, now they had two bodies that needed to be taken care of.

“I cannot take the two of them with me,” Yunho said with an apologetic expression, a bit of embarrassment on his face for putting Seonghwa in this situation.

The eldest sighed because he knew but still didn’t like hearing it. He was working after all, even if he didn’t have as many responsibilities as others, but he couldn’t keep Wooyoung in there. There was no way he would let a stranger go upstairs and into his chamber, so he needed to think of a different solution.

There was only one possibility and he hated it the same.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Seonghwa had managed to get out of Twilight before he was supposed to be out of duty, but no one seemed to be around to check on him. He had told Yongbok that he needed to go out and the boy had assured him that he would cover for him. He hated asking him that type of favour but there was nothing else he could do.

They had been walking for a while now. Their destination was only around fifteen minutes away from the Tea House, on the outskirts of the city, but with Wooyoung so drunk and unable to properly control his movements it was taking longer. Seonghwa was tired, his arm hurt from trying to keep the other man on his feet and every step they took made him hate himself even more for doing this.

“Where are we going?” Wooyoung said all of a sudden after a while of staying quiet.

“I’m taking you to a place where you can properly sleep your drunkenness away,” he simply answered in a soft tone even when inside he was starting to beat himself for it.

“He wouldn’t be that nice,” he blurted out, eyes closed and his body weight almost completely over Seonghwa who grunted in place from the effort. He was not athletic or strong because he didn’t need to, so this was toting on his body. “He would just let me sleep on the street, that bastard…”

“I’m considering it myself,” Seonghwa whispered, completely sure that he couldn’t hear him as he continued insulting whoever he was talking about. “Is it your friend?” he decided to ask, a desperate attempt to keep him awake long enough to arrive.

“Friend?!” He was outraged, his strong and loud tone coming back to him in a blink of an eye, his body straightening and his face making a disgusting expression. “He is not my friend!”

“Who is it then?”

“My boss!” he almost spitted out. “He’s an idiot, all the time causing me trouble and asking for things. Wooyoung do this,” he continued with a mocking tone, clearly imitating his boss in the worst way possible “Wooyoung help me with this, Wooyoung I’m bored, Wooyoung I wanna go out…”

“Who do you work for?” He didn’t really mean to take advantage of a drunk person but he was still feeling weird about how he was not feeling as uncomfortable or cold towards him, maybe if he knew more he would understand why. Or maybe if he knew more he would finally find that part of Wooyoung that made his alarms go wild.

“Someone important,” he said that second word with so much contempt in his voice, almost spitting.

“Important, huh? Where do you work?”

“The palace, where else?” He said with a giggle, as if it was obvious. And that alone should have been enough for Seonghwa’s body to tense, but it did not. His body didn’t react as it was supposed to, refusing to do what he expected it to do, because Wooyoung’s jasmine smell made him feel at ease even when he should be leaving him right there and then, stranded in the middle of the street.

Seonghwa didn’t say anything else, he was so conflicted he didn’t think he could. He focused on walking, already seeing the small house in the distance. He still hated this, having to take this guy he didn’t really know and that made him feel so out of himself to his most sacred place in the capital, but somehow a voice in his head started assuring him that it was okay. It was similar to the one he heard when he called on his powers, when his magic begged to get out on a new moon, so he decided to rely on it because it had never failed him before.

When they arrived by the door, Wooyoung was still mumbling about his boss, about how much he despised him and his manners and the way he was constantly mocking him. He mentioned another person, someone who apparently could use a sword and that Wooyoung wanted to kiss, but Seonghwa stopped hearing him completely when they crossed the outer fence and they stopped by the main door. The drunk man hanging onto his left shoulder, his head falling forward from time to time, didn’t stop talking and if it wasn’t because Seonghwa had to knock anyway he would have been angry at him for the possibility of him waking the inhabitant up.

The door opened slowly a couple minutes after the knock, just a little crack as the person on the other side peeped out to check who was disturbing him at such late hours. It didn’t take him long to open fully when he recognized Seonghwa.

“What are you doing here?” Yeosang said in a sleepy voice with his night clothes on and his face slightly swollen, the birthmark on his cheek partially covered by the long strands of dark hair that fell around his face. Besides the situation and the fact that Seonghwa was still upset about being there with someone else, he couldn’t help the warmth he felt in his chest as he saw him. 

“Sorry to bother you, but I need your help.”

Yeosang didn’t even blink once before he moved to the other side of Wooyoung to help him up and started taking him inside his house. Technically it was Seonghwa’s house, and he was sure Yeosang was thinking about that as he let a stranger in without asking any questions, but he had bought it just for Yeosang alone.

“Can he stay here tonight?” Seonghwa asked as they laid Wooyoung on the living room floor. “I couldn’t keep him in the Tea House.”

“Of course,” Yeosang answered as he opened a wardrobe and started rolling a yo mattress on the floor for the guest, always so willing to be of service. “Who is he?”

“A friend of Yunho’s,” he explained with a sigh, massaging his shoulder with the other hand and already regretting the walk. “Mingi got extremely drunk and Yunho couldn’t take care of them both.”

“I can take care of him, don’t worry,” Yeosang smiled, crouching beside Wooyoung with the clear intention of moving him toward the bed.

Seonghwa bended too, holding the drunk man by the armpits to ease the movement, and just that made Wooyoung wake up in a daze. Lifting his head up, opening his eyes wide and blinking very fast as if he was really trying to stay awake.

“Who are you?” He asked Yeosang, louder than necessary. “I don’t know you.”

“I’m Yeosang, you’re in my house,” he answered with a kind smile, as always.

“You’ll stay here, okay?” Seonghwa added, making Wooyoung look at him, a familiar face.

At that the stranger smiled drunkenly and turned back towards Yeosang. Without asking for permission or giving any warnings whatsoever, Wooyoung lifted his right hand until he could hold a bunch of strands from Yeosang’s hair. He seemed confused at the beginning when he fully processed the dual colour of the hair, dark brown on the exterior and completely white on the interior from the middle of his ears down. Seonghwa felt ready to intervene if necessary, but Wooyoung simply looked at the hair with his fingers and hummed to himself.

“I like your hair,” he said sleepily, his voice sounding even more gone than it had before. Yeosang was clearly surprised by them, although the surprise seemed to last only for a couple of seconds, for he smiled at Wooyoung quickly as he thanked him and tucked him with a blanket.

However those four words were enough to make Seonghwa’s heart sink in his chest, his breath hitching slightly. Maybe having taken Wooyoung to his most sacred place, to meet his most dearest person, hadn’t been such a big mistake after all. Maybe the voice in his head had been right all along if the smile on Yeosang’s face was anything to go by.

Chapter Text

Wooyoung was still nowhere to be found by midday and he should have come back by now. He should be by Hongjoong’s side. Always. Those were the rules in the palace to begin with, but it was also a need the prince had. He couldn’t be alone, the silence crushed him against the floor and the room felt smaller with every minute he passed in solitude. He needed Wooyoung.

Hongjoong had woken up at his usual hour, much later than the rest of inhabitants in the palace, and the first thing he had done was call for Wooyoung, but he hadn’t shown up. The guards posted at his door had told him they hadn’t seen the servant yet and he had begun to spiral. Where was he? The day before had been his free day, the only full one he had every month, and Hongjoong had spent the day moving from one side to the other in a poor attempt to calm his anxiety. He understood why the servant needed a free day, he deserved it after putting up with him constantly, but he wished he didn’t. He wished Wooyoung could always stay there with him, accompanying him and making things easier just with his presence.

Trying to calm himself down, Hongjoong sat on the floor of his room and closed his eyes for a few seconds. Mentally he went back to the forest, to that white haired figure that had played with the fawn and had captivated him. Focusing on that seemed to do the trick, slowing his heartbeat and steadying his breathing if only for a few moments. He decided to focus on that person, on his powers under the new moon and how he would love to speak to him. The prince started making a mental list of all the things he would like to study since he couldn’t just go out and find his mysterious creature, when a thump was heard by the door followed by a bunch of quick footsteps.

“Your Highness,” he heard before the door to his room was fully opened without waiting for an answer on his part and finally the figure of Wooyoung rushed in.

He was not wearing his uniform, still with the same clothes he had worn the day before when venturing outside, his hair was tucked in a quick and messy way and his cheeks were flushed. That together with how he was panting, made it easy for Hongjoong to imagine he had run to arrive there.

“Where were you?” The prince asked coldly, eyes glued on his servant’s figure. He was angry, although more at himself for being so dependent than at Wooyoung for being late. He hated feeling lonely, but if there was something he hated even more it was his own creeping necessity to be constantly escorted.

“I’m sorry I’m so late,” Wooyoung started explaining, dropping to his knees in front of the prince in an apologetic way. “I got drunk last night and I… overslept.”

“You overslept…” Hongjoong repeated in an incredulous tone. “You should have been here almost 6 hours ago!”

“I know, I’m sorry!”

“And you’re not even wearing your uniform,” the prince raised his hands in front of him to point at him whole, making his state more obvious.

“I know, I will go change right now.” He stood up immediately, bowing quickly, completely flustered and visibly worried about his job. He was already by the door trying to run away when Hongjoong called him back.

“Wooyoung,” the man was frozen in place, one hand holding the sliding door that he closed back again slowly while still inside the room. “Come back here.”

The servant turned around, eyes locked on the floor and his body completely bent forward with embarrassment. It was not the first time he was late after a free day, but it was definitely the one he had been the latest. He knew he had made a very big mistake, they both did. Wooyoung went back to his place in front of the prince, standing this time, as Hongjoong stood up calmly and got closer to him, examining his state.

It was even worse the closer you got to him. He smelled like alcohol, he had some leaves and branches stuck in his hair, the upper part of his hanbok was wrinkled everywhere and his eyes looked puffy and red. He had clearly not slept in the same place he always used when he was out of duty. But… where? Hongjoong was so curious but didn’t want to make the impression that he was ordering him around, so he just sighed as he crossed his arms on his chest before continuing talking.

“You look terrible,” he simply whispered, which made Wooyoung lift his gaze at the change of attitude and tone. “Where have you been?”

“I, mmm… fell asleep in the house of someone I met last night.” He answered softly, his cheeks getting pink again as Hongjoong looked at him with one eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“You walked into the house of someone you didn’t know?”

“I-I was too drunk to complain…”

“So, you walked into the house of someone you didn’t know while being drunk ?!” Wooyoung nodded slowly, fidgeting with the rope that hung around his waist looking completely mortified at his own actions. However, Hongjoong patted him on the left shoulder and sighed with relief. “I envy you, Wooyoung.”

“ You envy me ?”

“I do. You’re free to do all those crazy things, while I have to stay here and follow all these rules…”

“So… I’m not going to lose my job?” he asked tentatively, fear still hanging onto his voice.

“Of course not, you know too much,” the prince laughed as he went back to his place on the floor. “Who would help me get out of this drenched place if not you? You’re the only one who would.”

Wooyoung still seemed unconvinced, as if he was expecting Hongjoong to show his true colours and how angry he actually was, but all he got in return was the warm smile of the prince. He couldn’t be mad anymore since he was so glad to see him again. The fact that he would be able to tease him for eternity and remind him of this incident until he got bored of it only made things better.

Without saying anything else the servant bowed to him once again, deeper than necessary and fled outside of the room to put on his uniform as quickly as possible. Luckily no one had come into the building to pay Hongjoong a visit—something that was rather uncommon—and he had not been called to do anything outside. Wooyoung’s late arrival remained a secret, only known by the prince and his two guards.

With relief washing over him, Hongjoong went back to the text he had in front of him. A soft smile on his lips as he waited for Wooyoung to make himself presentable. There were so many things he wanted to do that day.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

They had a rather late lunch. The servants at the kitchen must have made a scene when Wooyoung appeared there asking for the prince’s food when they were already eating themselves. However, they couldn’t deny Hongjoong his lunch, so Wooyoung had appeared moments later with what looked like some leftovers. It was not the first time the prince ate something not as prepared and perfect as he was supposed to, and honestly he couldn’t care less. As long as he had something to eat, he paid no mind about anything else.

With their plates empty, Wooyoung half lying on the floor with one hand on his full stomach and looking about to fall asleep, Hongjoong stood up filled with all the energy his servant was lacking. With a smile tugging at his lips, the prince got closer to one of his dressers and opened a big drawer filled with fans of different colours. He picked one that matched his light blue hanbok and ignored the hats that were laid on a corner. Wooyoung hadn’t combed his hair that day in the usual topknot, so Hongjoong made himself a poorly looking ponytail with a ribbon that was forgotten on a drawer. 

“What are you doing?” Wooyoung asked from the floor, voice barely a tired whisper.

“Stand up, we have things to do,” the prince answered as he walked towards the door, sparing the servant a light kick on a foot.

“We always stay here all day. We always do the same. Always, ” he protested, not moving an inch. “And the one day I really need us to stay here and do absolutely nothing… you decide you have to go out?”

“It’s not my fault you got drunk last night, is it?” Hongjoong asked, raising an eyebrow before moving closer to the exit. “C’mon, your prince needs you.”

“And what about what I need? When is that ever going to matter?” Wooyoung responded with a groan as he stood up with difficulty and looked at the prince with a pout. Hongjoong ignored him completely—Wooyoung complained systematically about everything the prince wanted to do but did as was told anyway—and moved to the outside door to wear his shoes.

Once outside, Wooyoung walked lazily and slowly beside him as the prince strolled with his hands tucked behind him. It was partially cloudy, but the weather was still warm enough to enjoy. With his residence far away, Wooyoung took his place a few steps behind the prince and they walked in silence.

The servant had been right, they barely went out as their routine consisted on staying hidden from everyone, trying to keep a low profile. Hongjoong had been left aside from official matters a while ago and he didn’t intend on going back to them, so he resorted to remaining invisible for everyone so as to be completely forgotten. 

But on that particular afternoon his need for information had grown bigger than his need to disappear. They ran into some employees of the palace who didn’t recognize the prince and others who were surprised to even encounter him outside. He could hear the giggles from the girls that walked past them and the whispers of the officials that waved at him from their workplaces. Hongjoong greeted them with a wave of his fan and a smile on his face only when he felt forced to, he’d rather ignore them all. It was better that way.

After a while, Wooyoung seemed unable to stay quiet for a moment longer.

“Where are we going, Your Highness?” With all the people around them he couldn’t address the prince in the casual way he would use if they were alone, so his voice and mannerisms had to be adjusted to the circumstances. Hongjoong didn’t like that, he hated being treated differently.

“Don’t worry, you will like our destination,” he answered, looking back slightly with a side smile on his lips. The servant bowed his head once, unable to demand more information in their current situation. 

Hongjoong could feel Wooyoung’s excitement and change of humour the moment the building appeared in front of them and he fully understood where they were headed. It was merely a place of work, somewhere the Royal Family rarely visited, but he needed to talk to someone in particular and that someone spent his days inside working. 

Here, in the Records Building, everything related to the history of the country in any way was collected and taken care of. Similar to how the Royal Library worked, filled with very high shelves that stored thousands of paper rolls and books, there was also information about what happened in the Throne Room after every meeting with the Ministers. Everything that happened in the castle was stored there, from the employees’ schedule to the laws pending for approval. 

The scholars working in it had to pass the civil service examinations to earn their position and had to swear upon taking the job never to share critical information they read or heard with anyone unless commanded by the King himself. Hongjoong preferred visiting in the late hours of the afternoon, when the majority of the scholars had already gone back for the day and only a couple remained. He liked the late hours because he knew a certain someone was always there. The one the prince needed to see the most, right then and there.

Jongho, a relatively newly employed scholar who had been earning a reputation by his knowledge and dedication alone, was seated at his table transcribing a document, fully concentrated. With his black and red work uniform and the hair tucked in the high and pristine bun all of them were forced to wear, he didn’t notice the intrusion until one of his superiors spotted the prince.

“Your Highness,” the old man said with a smile but a certain fear in his eyes. They all got so nervous every time Hongjoong appeared over there—he was probably the only Royal showing at the place—, which was another reason why he avoided the busiest hours. All the scholars stood up the moment they heard the words, bowing to him and leaving their work aside. Hongjoong shook his fan in front of him in an attempt to make them go back to their duties, but some of them were hesitant to do so. “What can we do for you?”

“I’m here to see my friend, Choi Jongho,” Hongjoong answered, looking at the man whose both hands were leaning against the surface of the table. The only one who looked somehow relaxed in the presence of the prince.

“Is Your Highness sure? Maybe a more experienced person would be of better service?” The man asked and that was enough to piss Hongjoong off. What was the point of being a prince if he was still going to be treated like a fool? 

“No, thank you. Nobody else will assist me better than him, I’m sure of that.”

They couldn’t deny him his wish any longer, not when he used that commanding tone that made his position very clear. That one he hated but was not afraid to use when he had to, which was not very frequently just because he barely left his quarters. However, everytime he had to face someone from outside his inner circle something similar happened. As if he didn’t know better just because he was not to be king when, in truth, he was probably the most educated person in the whole palace with the sole exception of his former tutor.

With a reluctant bow, the man finally stepped away and let Hongjoong do as he pleased, almost forcing everyone in the room to go back to work and ignore the prince. The people that were crowding the place started moving around him in a sudden hurry, eager to prove they were hardworking employees of the crown. Only one of them stood in place, his eyes locked on Hongjoong’s figure with a smile in his eyes that didn’t show on his lips. 

“Your Highness,” he finally said, bowing with his head in an elegant way. His tone was serious and everything in his body seemed to ooze respect, but still there was something akin to playfulness laced in his voice, almost mocking.

They hadn't known each other for long since Jongo had entered the palace just a few years ago, but something had clicked between them after barely two encounters. Hongjoong was not used to meeting new people. Even when he ran away from the palace he avoided talking to others for longer than necessary, but Jongho had seemed so sincere from the beginning that he had been regularly drawn to the place. The young man had never treated the prince differently because of his status, always ready to deny him of his requests if he had to without even faltering. Hongjoong liked that, it was refreshing being surrounded by someone who treated him just like another human being and not like something unapproachable.

“Hello, Jongho,” he greeted with a smile, looking back at Wooyoung for a moment since the scholar had locked eyes with him. Those two knew each other even better and the expression of the servant made it very clear. He was waiting for the conversation to be over so he could throw a bunch of questions towards the man.

“Wooyoung,” the scholar added towards the figure behind the prince. No one ever acknowledged his friend, so the prince was overjoyed when Jongho did it so openly. “How may I help you both today?”

“Well, you see, I’m very sure you know where to find pretty much everything around here and I’ve been very much interested in one specific topic lately…” Hongjoong started, leaning towards the working table of the scholar examining his work. He seemed to be handling something related to the Royal Guard.

“I will do my best to assist you, Your Highness,” he replied, covering some of the papers with a wooden box filled with rolls. “But I’m afraid my time is very valuable…”

“Of course, I won't keep you away from your duties for too long,” Hongjoong nodded and made a little movement with his right arm to invite Jongho inside the maze of shelves. The scholar knew the drill by now, even when the prince never had any secret intentions and was always interested in documents that were easily accessible, he didn’t want the rest to hear them speak. So only after they took a few steps away from prying eyes, with Wooyoung following them in a distracted manner, he allowed them all to stop. “I have been looking into the Blessed by the Moon, you see.”

“New obsession,” Wooyoung added without being asked to as Jongho nodded towards the prince’s words.

“There is plenty of information about them in the Royal Library,” the scholar said frowning, already sensing there was more to the topic.

“Yes, it was rather easy to find,” Hongjoong admitted, crossing his arms over his chest, both hands hidden inside the long sleeves of his hanbok. “However, I haven’t found much about the New Moon people. Just a vague description in a generic roll.”

“Ah, I see.” Jongho answered, caressing his chin, thinking about it for a moment. One could almost see how his mind traveled around all the shelves trying to find the right location. “I think we have something you can read over here, I will send it back to your quarters. But I must warn you, there’s not much about it. They are not very common individuals.”

“I had already gathered that. Thank you, Jongho,” Hongjoong patted him on the shoulder, enjoying how the scholar didn’t feel uncomfortable at the touch like others did.

By the time they had finished the conversation, Wooyoung had already moved away from them completely uninterested by the topic. When the prince glanced at his surroundings looking for him, he couldn’t help shaking his head as he spotted the servant in front of one of the windows. He was almost crushing himself against the glass, hands on either side of his face over the surface and mouth slightly opened. One didn’t need to be a genius to know that San must have been outside walking with or without the Crown Prince, the way Wooyoung’s ears had gotten all red spoke by itself.

Making use of how he was distracted and would hear nobody else around him for a while, Hongjoong turned towards Jongho again. The scholar was looking at Wooyoung with a disapproving look but focused back on the prince when he sensed the conversation was not over.

“I’ve seen the papers on your table,” Hongjoong muttered in a curious tone. “What’s going on with San?”

“Oh, yes,” the man answered with a nod as if he had suddenly remembered something important. “I was planning on going through your quarters later today or sending a message your way, but since you’re already here… He wants to change his position.”

“Change his position?” Hongjoong repeated not following, as confused as one could be.

“Yes, he wants to be your personal guard instead of your brother’s.”

Hongjoong looked at Jongho as if he had grown a second head because none of that made any sense. Growing up with San as he had, Hongjoong had heard him say thousands of times that his dream was to be the Crown Prince’s guard. He had always wished to live his life as the main protector of the King when his time arrived to take the throne. So why the sudden change? San had sacrificed so much, spent so much of his time being the best, to get the position he had just to trade it now?

The prince knew he was missing information, because there was no way San would like to change just like that. Serving Hongjoong as his personal guard would be dull and boring, and nothing like what San really wanted out of life. He would spend most of his working days standing by his door, doing nothing but admiring the view and dealing with the antics of the prince and his servant.

“Why?” He finally dared to ask because even if Jongho didn’t want to answer, maybe he could get something from his reaction.

“He only said that he wants to protect you now. Based on your past friendship it makes sense to everyone in charge, but no decision will be made without your consent and approval,” the scholar answered in what seemed to be complete honesty, peeking at Wooyoung behind the prince as he talked. “So, will you allow him to change?”

“Yes, of course,” Hongjoong quickly said, because there was no way he was going to deny him what he had asked. Besides, the only way to figure out why he had changed his opinion so unpromptedly was to keep him close. “If that’s what he wants then…”

“Good, I’ll handle the paperwork. He should join you very soon, he was very insistent.”

With that Hongjoong nodded slowly still thinking about what San’s motivations could be for asking such a thing. Maybe their encounter the other day as he was training had something to do with it? It didn’t sound possible but he couldn’t really think of anything else. They hadn’t even talked again since that day, they weren’t that close lately.

His trail of thought was interrupted when Jongho was about to go back to his desk with a light bow since Wooyoung suddenly pushed himself away from the window. Without really caring that the prince was on his way, he pushed him on the shoulder to move him aside and held Jongho by his left arm. The scholar looked at the point where he was being gripped before raising his gaze towards Wooyoung with a lifted brow.

“What?” Jongho asked in a completely different tone he had been using with the prince just now. A sharp and stern one that made clear he was already tired of the conversation with the servant.

“You know what,” Wooyoung answered with an angelic smile on his face, trying to make himself as appealing as possible to get what he wanted. “Tell me.”

Hongjoong knew very well what he wanted and so did Jongho, used to having him around everyday for the exact same thing. Wooyoung, obsessed as he was with San, took every small opportunity he had to admire the man from afar. But in order to do that he needed to know his schedule and that’s where the scholar came in handy.

It hadn’t taken him long to realize Jongho was the one storing the timetables of every employee in the palace and, once he had, the scholar had become Wooyoung’s favourite person. So every morning as he walked outside of Hongjoong’s quarters to gather their breakfast, he paid Jongho a visit to learn the guard’s schedule for the day. For what Hongjoong had heard, Wooyoung always offered something to eat in return. A sort of payment. A bribe in Jongho’s eyes.

“You really have no shame,” Jongho sighed. “You don’t even care that the prince is right next to you, do you?”

“Why should I? He already knows anyway,” snorted Wooyoung. “Now tell me. How can I casually meet the man of my dreams today?”

“You literally never talk to him, Wooyoung,” interrupted Hongjoong laughing, feeling the servant’s elbow on his ribs at the comment. “It’s the truth. You just hide and watch. One day he will point at you with his sword and….”

“Oh, yes! Please!” Wooyoung said, too loud for the place they were in, no shame whatsoever in his expression. “Let him do that, that’s all I want.”

“The Crown Prince has target practice later today, so they will be in the fields in about two hours,” Jongho said before disappearing from there as he rolled his eyes.

“Quick!” Wooyoung said pushing Hongjoong through the corridor to get them both out of there as soon as he could manage. “We need to do whatever you need to do before that happens, I’m not missing that again.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

A few days went by and Hongjoong spent every one of them reading everything that Jongho got for him. It was not much as the scholar had warned him, but it was more detailed than what he had found on his own, so it was enough for now. Every night he stayed until very late studying his new materials, stopping only to look up at the moon thinking about the man and the fawn in the forest. Dreaming about seeing them again, about talking to him.

The first night that the white owl came back it took Hongjoong by surprise, it hadn’t shown up again since the night he fled. Like every other time, the animal sat on the windowsill and looked at him, tilting its head one way and the other with curiosity. This time the prince remained in his seat for a while longer, staring back fully intrigued about why this particular owl seemed to like coming there. It was not until the owl started hooting, softer than the past nights but still disturbing enough for Hongjoong, that he stood up calmly and scared it away in the softest way possible.

He had somehow grown attached to the animal, he hadn’t realized how much he had missed seeing it around until that night. His mind now associated the owl to his encounter with that breathtaking creature he had met in the forest, all he could feel towards the animal now was gratefulness. Thanks to it, Hongjoong had deviated from his path and had ended up by the river.

“Let me know if he comes back,” he whispered towards the flying creature, laughing at himself for his stupidity.

The moon was already half its size by the time, getting closer and closer to its fullest form. Hongjoong knew there was no chance Wooyoung would let him get out on a full moon, considering that particular phase enhanced the powers of the Blessed. But still he wished he could, for there was nothing he wanted more than to go back to the spot by the river and wait. Maybe the man showed up during full moons too and he could observe him do something even more spectacular.

There was not a lot of information in his records about how the New Moon born’s magic worked. Everyone seemed to know that they were immune to the loss of the satellite—what had made Hongjoong suspect his mysterious man belonged in this category—, but there were many different assumptions about full moons. Some scholars had claimed it affected them like it affected the rest, giving them even more power. Others assured that full moons were the equivalent of new moons to the “normal” Blessed, taking their magic away. A few believed it made no difference in them, it was just another regular night.

Hongjoong had read all the possible theories with their arguments and examples and was close to memorizing them all by heart. The prince had never really had a purpose in life, apart from trying to distance himself as much as possible from the Royal Family and its connotations, but now he could feel how something was changing inside of him. With an almost insane certainty that the person in the forest was a New Moon Blessed, everything around became his new obsession. He needed more and more, what he could find in those papers was not even near enough. He wanted to be the first to know with undeniable certainty how their magic worked and what made them so special. What made his mysterious man special.

He fell asleep at some point, one arm over the table and his head resting in the curve of his elbow. His legs were numb when he regained consciousness and his neck screamed in pain from the forced angles, but he was used to those. What he was not used to was the noise outside so early in the morning. He grunted as he peeked one eye open to check on the time. The sun must have risen barely a few hours ago. It was far too early.

Hongjoong let his torso fall backwards until he was lying flat on the floor, his legs extended under the table as he wiggled his toes trying to regain his normal blood flow. Covering his face with his right arm to get rid of the light, Hongjoong heard the voices talking outside.

“Suit yourself, I don’t want to have anything to do with this,” one of them said.

“You have to come with me and you know it, it’s your job,” another answered in a commanding tone. “It’s time.”

“If you say so…”

The prince could barely recognize the two people talking as he felt himself drifting into slumber once again. But a knock on the door prevented him from continuing sleeping, making him jolt in surprise at the sudden noise.

“What?!” He yelled. He was furious. Everyone at his service knew he slept at that hour, who dared disturb him? Wooyoung would pay for this.

“Your Highness,” a soft voice answered at the other side of the door. However, besides the prince’s reaction, the person speaking didn’t sound intimidated at all. “I am Jongho, may I come in?”

“Oh, yes, by all means!” Hongjoong said without raising from the ground, gesticulating with his hands in an exaggerated way completely controlled by annoyance. “How am I supposed to punish you if you stay out there?”

The door slid open, but the prince didn’t even batter an eyelid at it. Eyes closed, arms extended on both sides of his body in a star shape, frowning deeply at the intrusion, his mind was looking for a thing he could throw at the man for his insolence. Maybe he could throw his quill, it would be easily replaced.

“Your Highness,” the other voice said then, taking the prince by surprise and forcing him to open his right eye and stare at the place where the door was. There, in the threshold, stood San in his black training clothing with both his hands in his back followed by Jongho, who seemed to be hiding himself behind the guard.

“What is the meaning of this?” Hongjoong asked without incorporating his body, simply looking at them from his position on the floor. “Have you noticed the time? Why are you waking me up? And where is Wooyoung? He’s supposed to handle people trying to disturb me at this hour.”

“It’s two hours past sunrise alrea-,” started San, but the prince cut him.

“Yes, I have noticed that! Too early!”

“I told you,” whispered Jongho from behind the man before addressing Hongjoong, peeping on one side as if trying to disappear. “Remember how I mentioned guard Choi San wanting to serve you, Your Highness? He has been transferred starting today.”

“I understand, but why did he have to start so early ?!” The prince put his elbows on the floor as leverage to straighten his upper body and be able to look at the two men by the door with all the disturbance he could express. San looked surprised, not sure what to do with himself, and Jongho seemed a step away from heading outside. “And why did the guards by the door let you in? Is this a conspiracy against my wellbeing?”

“I have a higher rank,” explained San in a calm tone without moving his body, a slight frown on his face. “I ordered them to let me in.”

“That could be considered treason, right, Jongho?”

The scholar moved a step aside, uncovering himself from behind the guard’s body. He was holding a bunch of papers against his chest and looked tired of the situation. He sighed before speaking.

“Barely, Your Highness.”

“I was just trying to do my job,” tried to amend San quickly, untangling his hands from his back for the first time since he arrived.

“You’re doing it poorly.”

San was visibly stunned, not knowing what to do with himself except just stay there and take everything the prince would say towards him. Used as he was to follow a strict routine, being diligent at his job and having the perfect behaviour he looked lost under the tired eyes of Hongjoong. Next to him Jongho began shaking his head side to side as he looked at the prince, begging him with his gaze to take it easy on the man.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” San said all of a sudden as he bowed deeply, so close to falling with his knees on the floor if it wasn’t because Jongho hit him with his elbow on the ribs.

From his position Hongjoong could see how the tips of the guard’s ears had gone red with embarrassment and his stance, always so confident and serene, had crumbled. Even when he secretly enjoyed making all his employees have a hard time when he was sleep deprived, San had been his friend. Long ago, yes, but still. Hongjoong didn’t have many friends –he had none if he didn’t count his private servant– so he pitied him.

Looking at Jongho, who seemed to be determined to force the prince to apologize, Hongjoong stood up from his place and walked heavily and slowly towards the two men. He was aware of the state he must have been without looking into a mirror. His clothes were all wrinkled, falling on the wrong places, his hair was probably sticking out from sleeping over his arms and he was very sure that he had the sleeve branded on his cheek. He felt terrible, honestly, but if he had to be a model prince… this would be the moment to be one, he guessed.

“There’s no need for that,” he finally said, resting his right hand on San’s shoulder. Feeling as the man tensed from the contact, as if he was not expecting it. No surprises there, Hongjoong was probably the only member of the Royal Family who broke the rules and, when necessary, touched the servants and guards in a friendly way. “But please, I beg of you, don’t wake me up at this hour ever again.”

“I don’t understand, Your Highness,” San shook his head side to side, looking at him like a lost stray cat. “When I served your brother-”

“I am not my brother,” Hongjoong couldn’t help himself when he cut him, more abruptly than he actually intended. But he refused to be compared with his brother, not even by chance. After taking a deep breath in to calm himself, he continued. “I know you are used to his schedule and his busy life as the Heir, but things are very different around here.”

“I warned him already when he asked for the change,” Jongho added with a nod “but he said he had no problem with it”.

“I don’t have royal duties, I don’t attend the crown room, I don’t go to the training fields, I’m not expected to receive guests… and I could go on for a long time.” Hongjoong explained as he examined San’s expression, looking for a change of heart. Waiting for him to finally realize the mistake he had made by asking for a relocation like that one, but the guard didn’t waver. “I spend the nights reading and studying and the mornings sleeping. Have you ever seen me outside before midday?”

“Once,” San answered, and Hongjoong could see a light blush on the part of his neck that was not covered by his clothes. “That morning I was training and y-”

“Yes, enough of that!” He cut him with a hint of panic in his voice. No one was supposed to know about that little unprotected escapade he had done just to tease Wooyoung. Even if Jongho was someone the prince trusted, he didn’t need it to be said out loud even once. “You decide if you continue coming in early in the morning or if you’d rather show up at midday. I won’t impose my way of living on you.”

“I will try my best to adapt to your schedule, Your Highness.” He finished with a slight bow of the head, finally a bit more relaxed now that everything had been cleared out.

“Great,” Hongjoong smiled at him. Even when San was not cut out to be his personal guard and he still considered this odd, he was glad to have him by his side. It felt familiar. “Do you have anywhere to be, Jongho?”

The scholar turned to look at him, caught by surprise with the question. He seemed to consider it for a while as Hongjoong took a few steps backwards from them. It was a genuine question, he prided himself on not forcing others to do as he wanted — most of the time. He asked because he was really giving them a choice, it was up to them to pick whatever they really wanted to do. He understood that, considering he was the prince, not many rejected his offerings out of fear but he still left the door open for them to do so.

“Where’s Wooyoung?” The scholar asked instead of answering the question.

Ah, yes, Wooyoung. Wooyoung, who had no idea San was transferred to their quarters. Wooyoung, who daydreamed about the guard on a daily basis. Wooyoung, who woke up early in the morning just to see him train with the first sun rays of the day. Wooyoung, who did everything in his hand to know the man’s schedule just for a casual encounter.

“I don’t know. Probably outside on his own private business,” the prince answered with a subtle wicked smile that only Jongho understood. Wooyoung was most likely on the fields, looking for the guard and feeling disappointed not to find him there. “I’m sure he won’t be long. He can serve us a cup of tea when he arrives.”

“Excellent,” nodded Jongho effusively, already walking towards the small table in the centre of the room and taking his place on the left side of it.

Hongjoong sat on his spot, facing the door, and started organizing all his documents away. The scholar knew of all the papers he had there, he had been the one helping him after all, but the prince still felt protective of the information. Reluctant to let anyone know what he was up to, wary of everything he had learnt and written down for himself. However, Jongho seemed to ignore it all and focused on piling his own possessions to his right.

On the other hand, San moved with his confidence back to stand on Hongjoong’s right. A few steps behind him as he had been instructed, with his hands tucked behind his back and his gaze locked on the door. He carried his sword on his waist and for the first time since he had entered the door, Hongjoong felt somehow restless by the knowledge. It was the first time he had someone protect him like that, so obviously, and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to behave. Regret started taking shelter on his chest as he would have San following him everywhere, watching his every step to make sure he was perfectly safe. That was not good for his way of living.

It didn’t take long for Wooyoung to make an appearance, as Hongjoong had predicted. The scholar and the prince had been talking about a few documents, something trivial but that both of them had an interest in, when Hongjoong first heard the steps outside. He knew those steps by heart by now, so he just waited for the fuzz that the servant would surely bring.

Normally he always went straight into his own bedroom not to disturb the prince, but the guards must have told him how Hongjoong was awake so he was not quiet at all. He stormed inside, stomping in an angry manner, and before his silhouette could even be seen he started yelling.

“I can’t believe I woke up that early for nothing !” He was saying as the three men waited inside in silence, looking at the door. “Stupid Jongho told me the schedule all wrong and he was nowhere to be seen! I’ve toured the whole damn palace and I couldn’t find him!” San next to Hongjoong moved slightly on his place, probably alerted by the way in which the prince was being addressed as. Wooyoung’s figure was still out of sight, but he wouldn’t stop talking. “What if he went away? What if I cannot see him for like… I don’t know, a whole week?!”

Jongho snorted next to the prince and Hongjoong shook his head side to side. This was fun, but he was beginning to pity the servant. He was one sentence away from uncovering himself fully without shame, not to mention the fact that formalities were nowhere to be found in the whole monologue. Hongjoong himself didn’t care, if San was going to be his guard from now on he would need to get used to it, but he was completely sure Wooyoung would die of embarrassment the moment he realized.

“Maybe you should start searching for a new servant.”

“Wooyoung,” Hongjoong called him in a warning tone that he, obviously, didn’t catch.

“I’m serious! I will die if I cannot see him for a week.” He was being dramatic again, not even bothering to pay attention to his surroundings since he was already by the door but hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. “I will literally perish if I cannot see his beautiful face and his gorgeous arms and his-”

The words died in his throat the second he appeared on the threshold and he realized Hongjoong wasn’t alone. At first he only noticed Jongho and his brows were getting closer together with resentment when he seemed to notice the standing figure behind the prince. As quickly as his anger had appeared it was gone, transformed into an expression of pure humiliation. His eyes grew bigger, his neck and ears turned completely red and his mouth wouldn’t shut.

“Good morning, Wooyoung,” greeted the prince with a smile. It was supposed to be apologetic, but he was enjoying the situation so much it must have come out as playful. The servant couldn’t stop looking at San, not a single muscle in his body moving. “Wooyoung!”

“Y-yes. Yes! Your Highness,” he finally snapped back into reality, more or less, and moved closer to the prince as he bowed in the most awkward way possible. He was stuttering and his feet looked unstable against the floor.

“Jongho and I were waiting for you,” Hongjoong continued in a calm tone, pointing at the man next to him as he extended his left arm. “We were hoping to share some tea this fine morning.”

“Tea,” Wooyoung repeated, glancing over at San as he tried to focus on his job. “You-you want to drink tea.”

“That won’t be necessary, Your Highness,” interrupted Jongho as he stood up from his seat, his documents already in hand. “I should go back to work, maybe next time.”

“Of course, as you wish,” the prince answered, standing up himself to bid him goodbye. Jongho bowed to him with a smile pulling from the corners of his lips and Hongjoong looked back to the guard for a brief second, who hadn’t moved an inch from his position.

“Let me know if you need assistance looking for your new… obsession,” he added after thinking about it for a moment, remembering the word Wooyoung had used a few days ago when they had talked about the Blessed by the Moon. When the prince was sure Jongho was already going to head out he turned towards San for a brief moment, completely ignoring Wooyoung’s gaze on him. “I hope you find your new post satisfactory.”

San bowed to him but stayed quiet, he was not supposed to speak unless he was given permission to do so or was talked to directly by a high authority. Hongjoong made a mental note to try and change that, even if just a little bit. He didn’t want San to be locked in himself just because he was working, exactly like he hadn’t wanted Wooyoung to simply serve him. He didn’t want employees who feared and followed him without questioning anything, he wanted loyal people around him that he could trust and, perhaps, confide in.

“Don’t come by my post again,” Hongjoong heard Jongho whisper to Wooyoung as he walked past him, heading outside and closing the door behind him.

The three of them remained alone in the room, Wooyoung’s nervous energy filling the space almost forcing Hongjoong to approach him and pat him on the shoulder. The servant flinched, eyes moving from the prince to the guard with anxiety.

“San will be my guard now,” he finally said in an attempt to put Wooyoung out of his misery. “He asked to be transferred.”

“What? Why?!” Wooyoung resorted with a high-pitch voice that, by his expression, he immediately regretted.

“I’m afraid that’s none of your concern,” Hongjoong answered, raising an eyebrow at him, an implied message behind the action. If you want to know, ask him . Wooyoung pursed his lips as a response and the prince could see how badly he wanted to complain, but was trying to look decent in front of San. “Now, if you’ll both excuse me I have barely slept.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” bowed Wooyoung, disdain covering his every word as he walked to move the table aside and take the mattress for the prince to use.

Noticing he was on the way, San moved to the opposite wall and waited there for everything to be ready. Hongjoong had never had a guard to himself, but he was familiar with their training and how they were supposed to behave so he was aware that San would not leave his side unless strictly ordered to do so.

“You can wait outside, San,” the prince said to him with a smile meant to be soothing. He had no other plan than sleeping, and it was in his best interests to show him how simple and boring his life was from the beginning. That way he would be easily casted aside when he wanted to leave the palace.

Once outside, Wooyoung rushed in front of the prince in sheer panic and started moving his hands in an exaggerated manner towards the door, towards San. Hongjoong crossed his arms on his chest with a sufficient smile and waited for him to be over.

“What is he doing here?” Wooyoung finally said in a loud whisper, what would have been a yell if he didn’t want to avoid the guard from hearing the conversation.

“You heard Jongho, he has been transferred here.”

“But why? Why?! And why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m exhausted, Wooyoung,” Hongjoong sighed, putting on his most convincing tired expression. He really needed to sleep. “We will talk about this when I wake up.”

Completely ignoring the servant, Hongjoong walked towards his wardrobe to prepare himself to sleep. Once he had his night clothes in hand he turned towards Wooyoung again.

“Good night, Wooyoung,” he said, forcing him to leave. A threat in his eyes: he would call San if he stayed longer than he was wanted.

“Yes, sure. Good morning,” Wooyoung answered in a resentful tone as he turned around without bowing even once. He wasn’t even supposed to turn his back on a member of the Royal Family, that’s why Hongjoong liked him so much. 

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

After waking up later than usual, and basically forcing Wooyoung to fetch him something to eat, Hongjoong decided to take a walk around the palace. It had nothing to do with the fact that he felt safer now that he had a guard, and everything to do with his eagerness to force Wooyoung and San to walk shoulder to shoulder behind him. Even if he couldn’t see them, just imagining the shyness in Wooyoung’s features as he desperately tried not to lock eyes with the guard was enough for the prince.

The servant had complained when Hongjoong had proposed the idea of a stroll, but he was determined to go outside so there was nothing to do about it. He was settled on it. Hongjoong loved being locked inside his quarters, where no one could bother him or reduce him to his title alone, but sometimes he needed the sun to hit his skin. It was a sunny day after all, barely any clouds in the sky, and even when he had not slept as much as he was used to, he felt refreshed.

Nearly an hour later he was glad he had decided to go out and drag Wooyoung with him. As he was seated on a bench near the pond, admiring the movement of the water and following the colourful fish swim around, he heard a few gardeners speak between them. They had clearly not noticed him and were chatting carelessly.

“Are you sure it’s real? Last time we were fooled by the rumours.”

“My brother says he saw the poster on the door.”

“I don’t know…it’s been almost a year since the last performance.”

“Exactly, that’s why it’s so special,” he sounded eager, excited, what made Hongjoong want to know more. “We cannot miss Silver Light’s exclusive performance.”

That was enough to make Hongjoong stand up in surprise and turn to Wooyoung with his eyes widely open. The servant avoided his gaze for a moment until he had no choice but to face the prince. He had also heard them speak, why else would he be avoiding Hongjoong now? He knew who Silver Light was and exactly what was coming his way.

Silver Light had been the most famous dancer and performer in the Twilight Tea House. He used to perform regularly a few years ago and became very popular, filling the place on the nights that he took the stage. But after a while he had reduced the amount of performances he gave, moving from twice a week to once a week, and then to a handful of times a month, once a month… until he had completely stopped. Hongjoong hadn’t been able to flee the palace by the time the performances were still taking place, but he had heard about them so many times. He had dreamt about them even, wishing to be able to see at least one.

And now Silver Light was back for a one night show and he needed to see that with his own two eyes.

“You heard that?” he said to Wooyoung, feeling his heart beating uncontrollably with excitement.

“Hear what, Your Highness?” answered Wooyoung, playing dumb. But not this time, this time Hongjoong was not going to have it.

“Silver Light.”

He didn’t need to say anything else for Wooyoung to sigh loudly, rolling his eyes at the prince. San, next to him, was looking at the both of them without following. His serious expression covered with confusion.

“Okay, look,” Wooyoung started and Hongjoong knew, he just knew what was coming. So he got overly excited even before he could explain and smiled at Wooyoung brightly without being able to control himself. “There have been rumors for a few days but-”

“A few days? And you didn’t tell me?

“Of course not, I was avoiding exactly this.” He pointed at Hongjoong’s whole body with an expression he always reserved for those moments when he felt second hand embarrassment for things the prince did and said. “You know why.”

Hongjoong was about to protest loudly but Wooyoung gave San a quick side eye to shut his mouth. He was right, they couldn’t be talking about that in front of the guard. San would never let Hongjoong get away from the palace to see a performance in the most famous Tea House of the country, and he needed to go. Whatever it took, he had to be there when Silver Light performed.

Chapter Text

Seonghwa had grown up in the countryside, in a small house surrounded by rice fields and with a few farm animals to look after. His family had always been rather poor, surviving with the minimum and working non-stop to be able to eat everyday. He hadn’t known anything else for a long time, used to the rumbling in his stomach and the dirt on his hands, but he had always been happy… until his mother had died.

It had happened when he was very little and he didn’t fully understand how life and death worked. However, besides how early in his life this had come to be, he still had a few faint memories of her burnt into his system: the way she always smelled like flowers, the soft melody she hummed to him when he couldn’t fall asleep, her love for cherry blossoms. It was not much and, most days, Seonghwa wished he could remember a trace of her face or even her voice but there was nothing to hold onto in his memories anymore.

Things had changed rather drastically after her passing. His father had lost direction without her and both of them had been adrift for more than two months until he was able to go back to take proper care of the fields. Even when his mother mostly took care of the animals, the neighbours who worked in the place and the chores of the house, his father had always gathered his energy from her. As time went by, Seonghwa came to understand that they had always loved each other deeply and losing her had broken his father in many ways but, at the time, all the boy could see was neglect.

His father, unable to take a hold on himself, had easily become addicted to gambling as a way to release his sadness into the open. He still worked during the mornings, reminding Seonghwa that he had to take care of the animals now and help him with the rice if necessary, but disappearing once his shift was over. At the beginning, Seonghwa hadn’t been aware of what his father did outside for so long until the man had decided that he needed his son in his schemes. Everybody around the place had known that the little kid was Blessed by the Moon, it was very obvious, but his type of magic had remained a secret while his mother lived.

“Your power is nothing to be ashamed of, my Crescent Moon,” she had said once when he had asked her in between tears why his hair was so different to everyone else’s. “It is a gift, a very precious gift, but you need to be careful because of that. Others would like to possess it and some will try to control it.”

Her words had resonated in his mind so vividly when his father had practically begged him to convince another man to reschedule a payment that he had been immediately denied, unaware of the consequences. His father had never been abusive with him, but after that he started treating Seonghwa like an outsider and that, somehow, had felt even worse. They never talked, his father never even looked at him, and Seonghwa had to learn very quickly to take care of himself.

It had come naturally for him to run away once he had gathered the courage to do so, tired of being ignored and confined in a place where he was not wanted. It had been difficult leaving the place where his mother was buried, under a jasmine bush that he tried to maintain in the best condition possible, but he had convinced himself that she would have approved of his decision. So, after preparing the little things he owned, he had left his house one morning while his father was working outside, never looking back.

Getting a transport to the capital had been easy, his charming magic had done most of the job, but once he arrived, everything had crumbled right in front of his eyes. It turned out that getting a job in the city was not as easy as the young and naive Seonghwa had expected, especially for someone like him who only just had a basic education and no real talent whatsoever. He had spent his life working in the fields, planting rice and taking care of the animals, so—knowing nothing about cooking, working with metal or sewing—he couldn’t become an apprentice in any of the main fields.

A few merchants had been willing to offer him a job at first, but had turned their backs on Seonghwa once they realized he could barely read. Of course he was able to do so, but it took him an awful amount of time to do it and nobody had time to properly teach him. The fact that numbers were also not his strong suit, since he never really used them back home, had been his doom. No one wanted to take care of a young boy with no education, no one had the time nor the economy to maintain and teach him.

After a few weeks of basically living in the streets, making good use of his moon powers to get free food or even a place to spend some nights, he had turned to the Tea House. An old woman had been the one telling him about the place, how they took in people like him and gave them a home. “You have the type of face they will like,” she had said, squishing his cheeks with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and Seonghwa had visited the place the very next morning.

Of course he hadn’t known what a Tea House was at the time, what happened inside or what his job would be, but he had been hungry, cold and desperate. He had accepted the conditions without being able to fully grasp what they meant, content to have a roof over his head and hot meals everyday. At least he didn’t have to deal with his father’s anger issues and gambling problems there, so it was not that bad. Or so he kept thinking until they had made him appear on stage.

Everything had been fine until then. He only needed to worry about keeping the place clean when the customers were gone, organizing the rooms while the others were working and studying what they told him to. He learnt how to properly read and write, how to count money and how to address the customers according to their ranks. He memorized the type of clothing that was most expensive, what accessories were more valuable and even the names of some regulars before he even got to meet them. He was committed to being the best at his job, determined to be proud of what he did since it was keeping him alive and well.

For the first time since his mother had died, Seonghwa felt useful and almost happy to belong somewhere. It was still hard for him to make friends, after spending all that time being completely ignored by his father, he had turned his back on affection. It simply hadn't presented as a real problem for him. He didn’t crave it or need it, he felt better when he was alone anyway so it didn’t bother him to see the others mingle and have fun while he was left alone. Even when something deep inside him seemed to pinch him in the chest when he realized how different he was, he never really tried to approach the rest.

However, his tranquility and peace of mind had been snapped out of him once the owner of Twilight had included dancing lessons into his schedule. Innocent and confiding as he was, Seonghwa had received them eagerly and with a smile on his face, always willing to please. He loved learning after all and trying new things made him happy, until the classes started to become more and more strict. No more praises, no more soft words, no more letting the mistakes go by. The teacher started mistreating him when he got something wrong, when the rhythm wasn’t as precise as it should be or even when the angle of his arm was slightly off.

“We have spent a lot of money on you. Feeding you, teaching you, letting you stay here… it’s time for you to show if you were worth the investment,” they used to say to him besides the tears pooling his eyes and the sore muscles.

Once he had started performing everything had turned confusing. First of all Seonghwa didn’t quite understand why some of his partners in the Tea House were not forced to perform like he was and only found his answer when he saw the posters around the city. He had totally forgotten the words of the owner of Twilight the first time he crossed those doors asking for a job, how the man had labeled him as the most beautiful Blessed by the Moon in the city. Silver Light, the jewel of Twilight, whose galaxies trapped in his eyes could captivate even the most emotionless creature.

But what had puzzled him the most had been the difference in treatment, how the high rank people of the Tea House could treat him so nicely in front of the rest while still degrading him in his private lessons. Seonghwa had grown accustomed to being ignored and left alone, as if he didn’t exist, so he could live with that. He could manage being forgotten, being insignificant. But he was not used to being loved with one hand while being hit with the other, his mind wasn’t quite sure what to do with that or how to process it. Was he loved or hated? How could he get better? Did he want to be loved at all? 

It took him long enough to understand that’s exactly how the world worked, that appearances were the most important thing if he wanted to survive. With no one to really take care of him or even tell him encouraging words when he needed them the most, he got colder and colder around everyone else. He decided to protect himself from the horrors around him, to shield himself from the hurtful words he had to withstand on a daily basis. He continued doing as they asked without complaining, holding his tears until he was completely alone in his room, never showing an ounce of pain in his expression. If they wanted him to be perfect, then he would be perfect.

At least for the time he still had there, for he had begun a plan of his own to be able to stop working in the Tea House in a few years. He was the most hardworking, always willing to do some extra hours, accepting every performance that was offered to him, with the sole intention of saving as much money as he could. He had a secret hiding spot in his room where he kept every single coin he made, only taking some when it was strictly necessary, reminding himself that it would all be worth it when he managed to have his own house. Now that he had a proper education he could work somewhere else, even if he earned less money it would be fine for him.

But plans don’t always go as we want them to and Seonghwa was no exception to this. He was doing great with his savings, he could begin to see the end even, when he had run into a complication. 

A complication named Kang Yeosang.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Seonghwa had been downstairs, sat in one of the tables as he took care of the fans he was to use in that night’s performance, when a boy of around his age had appeared by the door. No one was supposed to enter the place at that time, so Seonghwa had been immediately surprised to see him there at first. However, he understood rather quickly.

The boy looked beautiful even with his broken and ugly clothes, the dirt on his face and the tangled hair. His expression looked hopeful, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips, hands held in front of his body in the most polite way, eyes wandering around the place in awe. He was perfect. Innocent, desperate and beautiful, so beautiful it took a moment for Seonghwa to be completely sure he was not dreaming. 

Seonghwa, being on the first floor practically alone, was supposed to receive newcomers. As the most popular of the residents he had become the face of the establishment, which apparently implied he had to be pleasant to everyone and welcome everyone with a smile. There were many aspects of his job he really hated and this was definitely one of them, pretending like he was happy to receive another victim of the system never failed to make him feel dirty. He had done it countless times, always feeling the vile creeping up his throat as he condemned yet another helpless boy or girl to a destiny similar to his.

However, something about this boy in particular, who was nervously looking around, made him act differently this time. He would have liked to blame the fact that his hair was white from the ears down branding him as a half-blessed, but it had been his fragility that had fuelled something within him. He had never seen a boy like him before, so inherently bright and confiding, that he had to step up to protect him. He was fresh meat for his bosses with the way he looked and how lost he seemed to be. The perfect victim to join the Tea House.

“What may I help you with?” Seonghwa asked as he approached, walking outside already to lead him away from that place. His protective instinct taking control over the situation.

“Hi!” The other answered energetically with a melodic and soft voice that promised to be perfect for singing if trained properly. Seonghwa had seen it happen before. He had seen it so many times he only needed a small interaction to know how every newcomer would be put to use. It was disgusting. “I came looking for a job, someone told me they might have a place for me here.”

Seonghwa took a long look at him and something in his heart twitched. It was like seeing himself all those years ago, hopeful about finally being able to find a proper job and a place to be. Joyful about the prospects of being independent, of having a place to belong to, of having a warm bed to lay in every night. But somehow, the boy looked more innocent and pure than he had in the past. If Seonghwa had suffered all that much being as he was, he couldn't imagine all the possible ways in which that place could break the boy and transform him into something else. Something numb and exhausted, just like Seonghwa was now.

“Why are you here?” Seonghwa asked in a soft voice tone, not trying to be rude but simply to understand his situation better in order to help him.

“I need a job,” he repeated cheerfully, biting his lower lip for a moment before continuing with a smile. “It’s hard getting one when your hair looks like this, you know. Most people in the city don’t trust me enough to give me a proper job and I cannot survive on casual assignments anymore.”

Seonghwa was aware of the current situation of the half-blessed. Differently to Blessed by the Moons, they were powerless and the mixed color of their hair was but a brand. A symbol to everyone around them that their parents had tried to fool destiny. Even without magic inside of them, most of the people refused to hire them just because they feared them. Seonghwa had never met one before since not a single one of them lived in the Tea House—probably deemed useless without magical properties—and it was not common to run into one in the capital. However, he had heard others talk about half-blessed with bitter disrespect in their voices, claiming that they were tricking everyone as they held inside of them an even more powerful magic than the Blessed by the Moon. Of course this made no sense to Seonghwa since most of the powers he had known about so far were mild and subtle at best to begin with, but people always liked playing with fear.

Seonghwa understood better than most the situation the boy in front of him was going through, he had been there before after all, willing to do anything to fill his stomach, but he couldn’t let him do it. He couldn’t let this innocent looking boy be ruined just like him, he would have been even more precious to his bosses than Seonghwa was himself and that only meant more abuse and punishment. So, repulsed as he was by physical contact, he let his right hand rest on the boy’s shoulders as he dragged him softly out of the place.

“Are you new in town?” He asked, trying to find a solution that didn’t involve Twilight.

“Oh no, not at all,” the boy answered with a giggle, seemingly unaware of what Seonghwa was doing. “I’ve lived here all my life.”

“I have never seen you around,” Seonghwa said with a frown, really trying to find a memory of his walks around the capital where he had seen the boy or his recognisable hair, but he was very sure they had never met before. At the time Seonghwa was not able to wander as much outside so he wasn’t surprised by the confession, just intrigued to know more about him and where he had been living.

“I know you,” the boy had said almost immediately, with excitement clouding his voice. “You are Silver Light.”

He seemed happy to recognize Seonghwa, to be able to speak to him, so the eldest had to control the twitch that his face made everytime someone called him that. He hadn’t chosen it himself, it had been imposed by the higher powers of Twilight, and it branded him as a property instead of a human being. Even when most of the time he didn’t want others to know his real name, a desperate way of protecting his identity, he never introduced himself as Silver Light. He used to have a list of names to turn to in case of need, feeling as if his real name held a power that he didn’t want to give to someone who didn’t deserve it, but this time he couldn’t stop himself.

“Please, don’t call me that,” he had smiled, shaking his free hand as if to make the nickname vanish from the air. “I’m Seonghwa.”

“Seonghwa,” the boy repeated softly with a nod, as if committing it to memory. “My name is Yeosang.”

“Nice to meet you, Yeosang.” Seonghwa had extended his right hand for the other to shake as a formal introduction and the moment their hand locked and they looked in each other’s eyes Seonghwa had known he was doomed. He couldn’t leave this boy to his luck, he physically couldn’t. The whispers in his head that controlled his magic seemed to increase in volume, and if it hadn’t been midday and the moon had been in the sky he was sure he would have seen it smile down at them. Somehow they were bound together and he was surprisingly not against it. “You see, Yeosang, I’m afraid we have no space for you here. We are full at the moment.”

The boy’s expression had dropped almost completely as he had heard the words, a small pout appearing on his lips and making Seonghwa regret his little lie almost immediately. But this was necessary, he had to take him out of there. 

“But I could help you find something if you want to. I can be very convincing,” he had said with a smirk, finding it funny how the sentence hid in it the implication of his charming magic. “This is no place for you anyway.”

“You would do that?” His eyes opened widely, filled with hope and surprise. That broke Seonghwa’s heart even more, he knew he would have felt exactly the same if someone had offered him even the tiniest bit of help.

“I wouldn’t have offered myself if I didn’t mean it.”

“That’s very nice of you,” the light in his eyes disappeared almost immediately as he spoke again, taking his final steps outside the grounds of the Tea House. He fidgeted with his fingers, dropping his gaze to the floor. “But it’s okay, I can manage on my own.”

It seemed obvious to Seonghwa how Yeosang was ashamed of needing help. Most likely he had spent all his life on his own trying to survive and was not used to getting any type of help from others. Even when he looked like he trusted people easily there seemed to be a barrier that he put up just for the sake of his pride alone.

“Well,” Seonghwa sighed knowing his struggle as it was his own, stopping in his tracks as Yeosang turned his body to him already a few steps away from him. “I tend to visit the market on Mondays and Thursdays night, find me if you ever need anything. I could use help doing my chores and I could pay you for your service.”

The boy hadn’t been convinced at first, probably thinking that he didn’t want charity, but the moment Seonghwa had waved him goodbye while turning back to the Tea House Yeosang had stopped him. Grabbing him by the sleeve, looking ashamed to be touching him even if it was very subtle, he kept his eyes down as he whispered.

“I can wait for you here next Monday, in case you need any assistance.”

He was clearly desperate for some money, it had been obvious to Seonghwa since the first moment he laid eyes on him but now witnessing him almost begging for a short of a job with his chores he could confirm it. It broke his heart a bit, seeing his smile fade and his face darken with shame after their conversation.

“Do you need anything now? I could give you some money or even some leftovers from the kitchen,” he offered, almost completely sure that he would not accept the money without having earned it. However his eyes rose up the moment food was mentioned and that was all Seonghwa needed to smile at him tenderly. “Wait here.”

It hadn’t taken him long to prepare a basic meal for Yeosang, entering the kitchen as if he owned it and picking up whatever he needed. Nobody complained or even paid attention to him, being the star of the place had its benefits, so he could take some rice and leftover soup they had for lunch. When he went back outside, Yeosang was waiting for him next to the door with his hands tucked behind his body and his gaze on the ground.

He had devoured the food in a few minutes, apologizing after finishing for being so rude but Seonghwa had assured him that it was okay. He knew how it felt to be hungry, to survive on the food others threw away, and he couldn’t blame him for eating with such eagerness. He just wished he could eat slower, his stomach could reject the food if he wasn’t careful.

“Thank you,” he had said once he was done, handing the bowl back. Seonghwa noticed how his cheeks had turned pinkish from eating and just that vision had made him feel warm on the chest.

“Anytime,” Seonghwa answered truthfully. “You can always find me if you need anything, I will do what I can to help.”

And so he did. 

On Monday, as promised, he walked outside the Tea House and Yeosang met him by the door, patiently waiting for a small job he could do in exchange for some money. They had walked around the market together, side by side, and Yeosang had carried everything Seonghwa had to buy. He didn’t buy much, but definitely more than he normally did just to have an excuse to give a good amount of money to the boy.

During their little walk Seonghwa had kept their conversation going, never using an ounce of magic on the boy for he wanted Yeosang to trust him wholeheartedly. He had never wanted anyone to trust him more than he did at the time, Mingi hadn’t even been difficult to win after a few conversations, so he put everything in him to be the type of person Yeosang needed. That’s how Seonghwa had learnt about his life story and what a difficult life he had had.

Seonghwa had never considered himself privileged about the life he had lived. He could have only felt that when his mother was alive but he hadn’t had the consciousness to realize it then. However, hearing Yeosang he felt somehow grateful for his upbringing. Like every half-blessed, the boy was an orphan from birth but he seemed unaffected by his circumstances. He had known nothing better after all and was fine with his life, only worried about being able to make enough money to survive.

Days went by and in little to no time, Seonghwa had been easily involved in everything Yeosang. Their little meetings in the market started to get longer even when Seonghwa didn’t need to buy anything and was constantly on the run for his rehearsals and classes. But being with Yeosang made him feel like himself again, like life was worth living and not a punishment he had to go through, so he treasured every second they were together. Once the youngest had realized Seonghwa was trying to pay him for doing the bare minimum, the plan had needed to change.

“I told you, I don’t want your money,” Yeosang had said one morning after Seonghwa had tried to offer him a bag with coins.

“But you need it more than me.”

“I don’t want charity, Seonghwa, I want to earn it,” he had sighed, not even a little bit mad at the offering. “I already feel bad every time you pay me for literally talking to you.”

“Okay, then let me help you find something else,” he almost begged because now that he knew him, really knew him, he couldn’t let him be alone. He was part of his family now.

“I’ve already looked everywhere, nobody wants me.”

“You never went with me, did you?” Seonghwa insisted, brows furrowing together just at the image of his friend’s defeated stance and expression. “I will use my magic, just a bit, to help them decide on helping you.”

“I don’t know…”

It hadn’t been easy, but after a little bit of practically begging Yeosang to let him help, Seonghwa had convinced him. They had appeared one day in the ceramics workshop of an old friend of Yeosang’s parents, a man with a wife and no children who needed someone to learn the trade. The couple had taken care of the boy when he was a baby but, as he grew up, they had to stop due to economic reasons—at one point all they could do for him was give him leftover food when they had some. Since they had already helped him and their previous bond was still there, it had been easy for Seonghwa to pull some strings with his magic to convince them to take Yeosang into their workshop. 

With that settled and out of the way, Yeosang had become even more cheerful and light, constantly speaking excitedly about his new job and the things he was learning. Even when he still had no real place to live and most nights he just slept in the back of the shop with permission of the owners, the weight over his shoulders had clearly gotten better and all Seonghwa could feel when he looked at him was pride. He knew that, even if he had helped with his magic, Yeosang would have lost the job if he wasn’t good. So the fact that they still wanted him there after a few weeks proved that he could do anything he wanted to if he just believed in himself.

However nothing seemed enough to Seonghwa, he wanted Yeosang to have a real life. One where he didn’t have to consider the Tea House ever again. One where he didn’t have to worry about eating everyday. So after much consideration he had decided to take all his savings from his secret hide out and use every single coin to buy a small house in the outskirts of the city for his new “brother”.

It was a small house and not in the best state, but it had been cheap and enough for just one person—at least until Seonghwa could join him. They had fixed what they could with the help of Mingi and Yunho, once the latter joined them, and had been able to make it look better with the passage of time. There were still a few things that needed tending, but Yeosang did most of the work with his free time and he never complained about the state of the place. He would never actually, he never said a bad word about anything or anyone even when the world was constantly treating him so roughly. Seonghwa admired him for that, he had never been able to remain soft and unbothered considering the circumstances of his life.

At present Seonghwa didn’t even remember a moment in which he had felt fully content and carefree, or had even looked as light as his friend did all the time. He had never been able to afford it, even less now with the weight of his chosen family over his shoulders. All of them had told him once and again that he didn’t need to watch over all of them all the time, that he didn’t need to put them all before himself, but he couldn’t help it. For Seonghwa all four of them, including Yunho, were more important than he was and deserved better than he did, so he was constantly willing to do anything in his power to protect them from the horrors of the world.

That was the main reason why he was so overprotective of them all, why he guarded them like a dog ready to attack if something didn’t go well. Why he got all tense and vigilant when an outsider like Wooyoung appeared in their lives, especially because it involved Yeosang.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

The night Seonghwa had to take the drunk stranger to Yeosang’s house he had known, just with a quick look at him, that something was off. The man had been avoiding his gaze since the moment Seonghwa had entered, too focused on leaving the shoes of his guest neatly by the door. He had looked too focused on it, obviously refraining from saying or doing something that might alert Seonghwa. He was hiding something.

Unfortunately for both of them, Seonghwa couldn’t visit him daily. Their respective jobs and schedules were complete opposites after all, one living with the daylight while the other did so with the moonlight. But Seonghwa tried to pass by as much as possible to keep an eye on him, make sure he had everything he needed and that he was in no trouble whatsoever. Not that Yeosang was reckless or anything of the like, but sometimes he was a bit clumsy and childlike even, which only made Seonghwa’s protective instincts heighten.

Over the pass of time, Seonghwa had learnt to read his expressions and silences. His job had made him learn about non verbal communication, he was almost an expert on the topic, and couldn’t forget everything he knew when he was around his family even when he didn’t want them to feel observed in such a way. Among them all Yeosang had always been the easiest to read, as transparent as he always was, and his need to keep him safe had almost made him memorize every line of the youngest’s face, constantly alert for any sign of disturbance.

He knew, he just knew something was wrong and he would have loved for Yeosang to be the one mentioning it but it was obvious he was not going to. He had accepted Seonghwa’s help back then and still did, but he was stubborn sometimes and didn’t like his weaknesses being exposed into the open. It was probably a secondary effect of the life he had had, alone and unprotected, being forced to shield himself from the cruel world around him. His pride not to be seen as a helpless victim kept him from directly asking for help and that’s where Seonghwa’s expertise came in handy.

Leaving Yeosang in the living room taking care of his imposed guest, Seonghwa excused himself briefly on a personal mission to discover what was wrong. Even when he thought he was being cunning and sneaky hiding his problems, it hadn’t been difficult to figure out what was happening once he had entered the kitchen. In fact, it had been so obvious Seonghwa had sighed as he squished his eyes with his fingers.

“Yeosang-ah,” he called him softly as he exited the kitchen, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at his friend. The half-blessed was taking the jacket from Wooyoung, who had already passed out and was snoring slightly, and raised his head for barely a second at the sound of his name. He seemed to regret his reaction as he quickly turned back his gaze to the sleeping body as he nodded in response to the eldest. Seonghwa sighed at that before speaking again. “Why are you rationing your rice?”

“I’m not,” Yeosang answered, way too fast for it to be the truth, in a whisper not to disturb the already asleep drunk in his living room. But he was still avoiding Seonghwa’s gaze with all his might.

“Of course you are,” Seonghwa snorted without moving from his place, trying not to look intimidating with his questioning but still needing him to be honest. “You forget I’ve seen you do it before and that I’ve done it myself, I know how it works. Didn’t I tell you last time I didn’t want you doing it again?”

It was then that Yeosang sighed in defeat and stood up after making sure that everything was to his liking around Wooyoung. He walked towards Seonghwa, taking a quick look inside the kitchen as his expression flinched the moment he processed the small bowls he had on the pantry, each with one small handful of rice inside. His shoulders fell forward as he avoided looking at Seonghwa, visibly embarrassed.

“I’m not lecturing you,” Seonghwa said after a moment, his brows getting closer together at the reaction of the person in front of him. He didn’t like seeing Yeosang hurt, even less if it was because of him. “I’m just asking you, like I always do, not to keep things away from me.”

“You do too much already, hyungnim .” His expression was apologetic as his eyes got lost in his fidgeting hands, and the use of the honorific made it clear that he was feeling guilty about it all. Seonghwa had told him so many times that he didn’t need to get smaller when he was with him, that they were equals no matter what, but Yeosang found it difficult to let the habit die.

In an attempt to reassure him as best as he could, considering he himself was not very good at consoling others or even offering affection, Seonghwa stretched his right hand in front of him and let it rest on his friend’s left arm. Yeosang’s gaze lifted almost immediately at the touch, almost surprised at the action but never in a bad way. He could never make Seonghwa feel self-conscious about his scarce demonstrations of affection, but he always seemed surprised to be on the receiving end. He knew it was rare for Seonghwa to overcome the physical barrier and his expression made clear how much he valued the moment.

“I would never blame you for needing more, you know that,” Seonghwa finally answered. “Everything I give to you, I do because I want to. Tell me what happened so I can help you.”

Yeosang’s shoulders dropped low as if he had been holding on not to give himself away, but the moment he had heard those words from Seonghwa he had given up completely. The eldest was glad, he didn't want to force him to speak up about it, he wanted Yeosang to trust him enough to share whatever he felt comfortable with.

“I had a problem at the shop,” he finally admitted in a soft voice, his ears getting slightly red as he was confessing. “I don’t know what happened but I dropped a vase a week ago.”

“A week ago?” Seonghwa asked in shock. A week was too long ago, how had he missed it for so long? I have been away for too long .  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I thought I could deal with it myself,” Yeosang retorted quickly, looking him in the eye with conviction and determination. “You are constantly getting me out of trouble and helping me with everything and I didn’t want you to worry about this.”

“You paid for it?” Seonghwa ended up asking instead of continuing with his surprise, because he was aware that would not help his friend in the slightest. Yeosang had always wanted to be independent, to be able to do things on his own, but the world had never really let him. His hair colour forced him to turn to others for a lot of things, and everytime that happened Seonghwa could see how much it weighed on him. So he decided to let him explain himself, figure out what had been the problem, before doing anything about it.

“No…” Yeosang finally admitted with a pout. “It was one of the expensive ones, my salary doesn't cover it so I had to take some money from my savings. But I didn’t have much saved so that was still not enough.”

“I will talk to him tomorrow, ask how much more you owe,” Seonghwa decided after squishing his arm, trying to soothe him. “We will figure it out, don’t worry.”

“I don’t want you to waste your savings on this,” Yeosang almost cut him in a desperate manner. So that was it, that was why he hadn’t said anything. He seemed to be struggling not to hold Seonghwa’s free hand to convince him, but was obviously restraining himself for the eldest's sake. “Please, promise me you won’t use that money.”

“Okay, I won’t,” he folded, because Yeosang was right. It was a bad idea using those savings for this. He had already started fresh after deciding to look after the half-blessed, who seemed constantly bugged by it, so going back to square one would definitely toll on both of them. “I will figure something out.”

And so he had ended up coming up to his bosses, offering himself for a special performance just because he couldn’t bear the thought of Yeosang starving himself for a small mistake. 

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

The rumour was already in the streets before they even hung the posters outside the Tea House, which was both good and bad for Seonghwa. Good because it meant that the performance would be a success so he would make all the money he needed. Bad because it was the part of his job he despised the most, he had stopped performing almost a year ago for a reason.

When he first arrived at Twilight he had been almost immediately labeled as one of the jewels of the Tea House, even before he could really show his abilities. The owner of the place, the person who hadn’t even doubted a few seconds to hire him, had declared him the most beautiful Blessed by the Moon in the city without even blinking. They had advertised his first day performing all throughout the city, promising a face the customers would never be able to forget. And, to Seonghwa’s disgrace, they had been right.

He hadn't even had any say in the pick of his own stage name, it had been imposed on him like everything else he had to do in that wretched place. Silver Light . Even seeing it printed on the posters outside made his stomach twist, thinking about how he had been ridden of his identity in a flinch. Besides the fact that he was careful who he gave his full name to, always worried about attachment outside of his inner circle, he valued having the freedom to use whatever name he pleased. 

But not in Twilight. In Twilight his freedom was but an illusion.

Silver because his hair was the colour of the moon. Light because his eyes shone like a galaxy under the light of the candles. Seonghwa hated every implication in the name, every small detail about it, so much that he had quickly began to despise looking up at the sky when the moon was there. Everything that reminded him of how easily he gave himself away every single day of his life he tried to avoid at all cost. That was one of the reasons why he preferred going out during new moons, why he liked working extra hours on full moons, why he always walked with his gaze never wavering up. The moon had given him his powers and now he couldn’t even think about the pet name his mother used on him without feeling dirty and used.

But for Yeosang he could be Silver Light again. For him and his well being he was willing to put himself on that stage and give the performance of a lifetime. It was only one performance after all. One night that promised to pay more than enough to clear the debt the half-blessed had.

So, for three weeks straight, Seonghwa prepared himself, rehearsing non-stop while the owners of the Tea House took care of the publicity. The place needed to be completely packed for his comeback, they had said. And all that was left for Seonghwa to do was pray that this performance didn’t rekindle the greed of his bosses to put him on that stage regularly again.

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.

Chapter Text

Night had already fallen and, as the last scholar abandoned the Records Building, Jongho occupied himself in his table not to call unnecessary attention over himself before bidding him good night. It was quite normal for him to stay until late. Everyone who worked with him was already used to it, so much so that even the guards taking rounds outside didn’t even bother going in anymore to check why the candles were still lit. They all knew Jongho would be inside finishing some things before heading home right before midnight.

And normally that was all he did. Organize documents, make sure that his roll pile was small enough to tackle the next morning, set aside some books and documents that might interest the Prince… He was aware that he wouldn’t get paid much for his extra hours but he didn’t do it for the money, but because he wanted to. He enjoyed being there, had worked very hard to get his position and he cherished it every day of his life.

But on that night when the moon was almost perfectly cut in half he remained there for a completely different reason.

Jongho had always been a very perceptive person, very detail focused, and this time around it hadn’t been different. He had been signing and copying documents whose contents, although brief, seemed sort of strange to him. He was by no means in charge of compiling the meetings that happened in the Throne Room and it was out of his duty to even read them, but some of the decisions made there went briefly through his hands and he couldn’t ignore them any longer.

Even when the scholars working there were forbidden to speak about what they read and hear, that was only the case outside of the building and Jongho had already heard a lot of things that deeply concerned him. Word about the Crown Prince and his younger brother, mentions of Hongjoong’s name in contexts where it was not supposed to be mentioned, chats about the King’s decisions and the way he was training the heir to the throne. And that together with his own instincts had made Jongho suspicious. Very suspicious. And his curiosity had been growing until he couldn’t control it anymore. So, once he was certain he was alone in the building and that nobody would disturb him, he dropped his quill and abandoned his post. 

The records were carefully stored and organized in topics for easy access and, even when most of them were accessible to anyone who needed to check them, others were restricted only to those who transcribed them. Such was the case with the summaries of what happened in the Throne Room, which only the King and a handful of scholars selected for the task were allowed to read or even touch. The secrecy was supposed to provide certain privacy to the King and his Ministers since not only state affairs were discussed inside those walls but also matters of the Royal Family.

Jongho was greatly aware that he could get into serious trouble for even daring to touch one of those documents, but that would only happen if someone caught him red handed and he had no plan on that happening. Without even carrying a candle with him, nobody should be able to even guess that he was moving from his post, he walked confidently to the closed door where the forbidden documents were kept away from prying eyes. The key to the whole room was not even hidden or guarded by any particular scholar, but hung next to the secluded tables of the responsible ones. No one was supposed to enter so nobody did, the possible threat to their lives was enough to keep everyone away by itself. Everyone but him during that night.

The only light illuminating the room was that of the moon outside, very dim and indirect, but Jongho knew the organization of the place by heart. The fact that they always organized the records in the same basic manners would have been helpful anyway, but he had spent the past week memorizing the positioning of the shelves to waste as little time as possible inside. He had planned everything carefully to the very last detail and he had been determined to succeed whatever happened.

Once inside and with his heart beating madly in his chest at the simple thought of going against the law, Jongho rushed to the area where the most recent documents should be. He checked the dates, written on the spines of the books, looking for the days when something had felt off or strange to him and started scattering through the pages quickly. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but he believed he would be able to localize it the moment he saw it. It was certainly nothing related to the crops or the taxes on fabric so he skipped page after page with desperation.

A crack made him jolt in place, his instinct reaction had been to leave the book back in its place and tuck both his hands behind his back to pretend like he had been doing absolutely nothing wrong. Just being inside those walls was compromising, but he decided to believe that his impeccable reputation might save him. Maybe the sound was simply the wood dilating, or an animal walking under the building, but he couldn’t risk it so he started walking leisurely through the corridors as if he was just patrolling the area. However, he didn’t make it very far, since the moment he approached the closest shelf corner a blade appeared in front of him.

For some reason Jongho was not scared because something inside of him immediately told him who he was facing and he was quickly proven right. Slowly the Royal Guard Choi San showed himself from the shadows until he was fully in front of Jongho with his sword pointing right at his throat. He was not wearing his uniform, but the black fitted clothes he used when he was training, with the sleeves hugging his forearms and a hairband on his forehead to keep his gaze clear. 

The grip on the weapon was firm and the look on his eyes was stern and defiant, but there was something else in his expression. Fear? He was also not supposed to be there and they were both aware of that, but it felt even more unusual for the Guard to break the rules he took pride in following at all times. Maybe that was the reason why he looked slightly nervous behind his facade, why he looked caught off guard besides being the one with the sword in hand.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Jongho dared to say because one of them had to break the silence and it was beginning to be obvious that San was not going to do any of that.

“As far as I know, neither should you.” Was his answer, his low and firm voice barely a whisper but filled with intimidation. “Why are you here?”

Jongho didn’t even raise his hands to surrender but maintained his stance with his hands on his back trying to appear relaxed. He was almost certain that the guard would not harm him, but he also had information the other wasn’t aware he had. Not only did he know that San had asked for a changing of post out of the blue, which had been suspicious enough for the scholar to look closer into. But also, and thanks to Wooyoung’s obsession, he had memorized the man’s schedule by heart, so he knew for a fact that San was out of duty. If he had come to the Records Building it was purely for personal reasons and Jongho was determined to figure out why and use it to his advantage.

“Me? I work here,” Jongho answered with a snort. “You are the one who is far away from his posting.”

That seemed to be enough to make the guard tense in place, his grip on the handle tightening and his knuckles turning white. Jongho might have been cornered, but so was San and the scholar knew it all too well. Besides not being a soldier, he was smart and a good strategist and he planned on using that to his advantage in this encounter. However, he knew that San would never reveal his true intentions even if he was not following orders, his pride and training prevented him from doing so in many ways.

“I know you’re out of duty right now,” he stated calmly, trying to seem reasonable. “I also handled your transfer to the Prince’s service, as you know, and I found it very strange how you suddenly needed to abandon your lifelong dream.”

“People change,” was all San said as if he was accused of a crime more than asked about what happened. Jongho was left with no option but to try a different approach, something more forward. If he wanted to know what was bothering the guard he might need to express his own concerns first.

“All that it said on your application was that you wanted to protect him now instead of the Crown Prince,” he continued, trying to reason. “Hongjoong himself was surprised about your decision too since it felt very odd. So I would like to know… what did you hear?”

“You are making a lot of assumptions, scholar.” San said frowning, obviously suspicious and cautious.

Jongho understood, they were both in a predicament just by meeting each other in that particular room and any false step could mean a death sentence to both of them, but he believed they were both there for the same reason. It was part of Jongho’s job to know what had happened in the palace in the past to fully comprehend the present and he was aware that San had grown up with the Prince. According to everyone he had talked to, they used to be close friends when they were children and, even when they weren’t in contact anymore, it was obvious for him that the Prince still held a huge deal of affection for the guard. Seeing San now in that room, risking not only his position but his life, made Jongho believe that maybe the sentiment was mutual.

“I can see you worry about him and I just want to know why,” he explained shortly after deciding to go all out for the sake of quickening the encounter. “I made a vow when I took on this job to work for the Crown and to always be critical with everything that passed through my hands. I have seen enough to know something is happening behind closed doors that could potentially harm the Prince. Not only I worry because he is a member of the Royal Family, but also because I have come to appreciate him as if he was something close to a friend.”

As Jongho spoke the expression on San’s face changed bit by bit, his reluctance disappearing slowly and his sword slowly dropping almost completely. So that was it, then. San had heard things too, something similar or connected to what the scholar had come to learn. Something that had forced him to take matters into his own hands so he could personally protect the Prince.

“You…” San started talking but his voice broke, so he had to cough in order to start again. “What do you know?”

“I can’t tell you that unless you explain why you are here, and you know it.”

The guard bit his lower lip and for a moment Jongho wondered how he managed to do his job so perfectly when he was being so blatantly obvious with him. Maybe San had never really thought Jongho was a threat and that was the reason why he was not hiding his emotions or intentions as he should, but he found it funny. He had always seen the guard as someone strict, intimidating and determined but now he looked like none of those things. He looked lost, perhaps having no orders to follow made him hesitant.

“You must know,” and just as Jongho was thinking about his change in behaviour, San regained his composure and dedicated him a look filled with warnings, “that I would have killed you on sight if you had been someone else.”

“Thank you for sparing me, then,” Jongho answered, bowing his head, watching how San finally lowered his sword and put it away in its sheath. “Now, tell me, why did you come?”

San sighed deeply as he took a look around as if he wanted to check that they were alone and no one else was listening. Jongho took the moment to go back to the corridor where he had been before being caught, hearing the guard a few steps behind, and waited for an explanation before doing anything else. He needed to be completely sure before confiding in him.

“I’m not supposed to hear or know anything,” he started in a whisper. “My job was simply to protect His Royal Highness from possible threats, not to think about or meditate on what is being spoken with him. My opinion is not valuable or even appreciated, especially if it doesn’t concern his protection.”

“Well, my job is simply to read and write,” Jongho laughed, “and here I am. Taking matters into my own hands when I am not even supposed to talk about some… sensitive issues.”

San, however, didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile at the comment and the more Jongho looked at him the more he could see how concerned he was. About the reason why he was breaking the law or his personal worry for the Prince, Jongho didn’t know yet.

“It was not much,” he continued explaining without being asked to. “A few comments here and there, the Ministers were careful when I was around and Hongjoong’s name was never directly pronounced outside of the Throne Room. But…”

“They have been changing things, have they not?” Jongo interrupted immediately because he had seen it, he had read it. It had been almost insignificant at the time but he had stored the information in the depths of his mind.

“You haven’t been here long enough to know,” San sighed following Jongho as the scholar moved rushley looking for a different book, trying to localize the one with the information he remembered. “But everyone who spends enough time in the Throne Room or His Royal Highness’ quarters knows that he is being manipulated.”

“And the King?”

“I’m certain you know that I’ve been close to the Royal family for all my life, but the King seems unrecognizable nowadays. The decisions he makes are nonsense to me,” he explained calmly, now much more relaxed as he had seemed to fully understand that Jongho had the same suspicions as him.

Jongho finally found the book he had been looking for and opened it almost desperately. San remained silent next to him, observing how he passed the pages searching for something very specific. He had never handled that document but he remembered the order he had to revise and file some time after he had joined the palace because it had felt odd to say the least.

“I remember the tour around the palace all the new employees received during our first week on the job,” he began explaining as he continued flipping the pages, “It was just a simple walk around so we could know how to get to the places without getting lost or entering the wrong building. And, after the guide briefly took us to the living area of the Royal Family, I was surprised to find out that the Prince lived very far away from there. Far away from everything, really.”

“Yes, I was there the day it was officially decided to move him away.” San confirmed at the same time that Jongho found the exact page in the book. A series of numbers and letters were written next to the record of the meeting and Jongho immediately recognized them as the identifier of another document: a semi permanent law.

Wasting no more time and without explaining anything to San, Jongho walked outside the forbidden room still carrying the book between his hands and started looking for the one document that was mentioned. Passing the book to San, he started scattering through the rolls that were stuck on the section dedicated to the Law, taking some out to confirm that he was on the right track. Once he located the correct number, he took the marked one carefully and opened it in front of them both.

It was a rather small roll with a simple order written in it. It was the first time Jongho had ever seen it and, by the noise San made next to him, he had never set eyes on it either. It was a regular law document with everything in order and nothing extraordinary about it except for its content.

The Prince, Kim Hongjoong, will move from the Royal household to a building set specially for him in the outskirts of the palace grounds. Said building will be built specially for him, decorated with his colours (green and blue) and birth flower (marigolds) for easy identification. This will be his permanent residence, surrounded by the gardens and the forest where no one will be able to disturb him and his studies. The Prince will only move out from it once he gets married, when he will be allowed to take residence in a different and bigger area of the palace where he and his partner can raise their children without being troubled by the matters of the Crown. 

It was signed by the King, the scribe of the day and Hongjoong himself.

“This is…” San muffled but didn’t continue.

“I remember storing away the draft for this once it had been approved and the building had been set to be built. I was surprised to know that the Prince was willing to sign it.”

“He accepted rather quickly, yes.” San nodded with a frown, holding one end of the roll as he read it again. Jongho waited, thinking about it on his own, until the guard decided to speak again with the information he had and the scholar lacked. “I figure he was eager to move away, to have his own place and identity outside of his position. He became rather isolated when His Royal Highness began his proper training.”

Jongho hadn’t known Hongjoong for long but, through his conversations with Wooyoung, he had learnt that the man wasn’t very fond of his family. He was constantly recluded and Jongho had never seen him visit any of the Royal Family members since he had joined the palace. Maybe he didn’t care much about the law to begin with or maybe his eagerness to move away had made him overlook it altogether. However it was, he regretted the fact that San and Hongjoong weren’t close anymore since that would have helped understand his motives more easily.

“None of this explains your sudden need to protect him,” Jongho reasoned out loud as he put the roll back in its place and started returning to the forbidden room. “If you suspected that the King and the Crown Prince were being manipulated, you could have gotten better information from the inside. Why change?”

“You trust your books,” San answered, walking by his side with his left wrist resting casually over his sword. It was not a question or a reprimand, but a fact that he had gathered in the little time they had spent together and he was right. Jongho would have probably believed anything he said, but he would have needed to check the records for confirmation afterwards. He wanted the source, he wanted to have the information as accurate as possible. “It must be in the meeting from a few days ago, the same day I asked to be transferred.”

Jongho remembered perfectly well the day that had happened because he had been constantly thinking about San’s reasons ever since. After raising an eyebrow in the guard’s direction as if he had been challenged, he took the same corridor he had been forced to abandon after the intrusion and started reading the spines looking for the correct one. It didn’t take him long and, with San’s summary about the meeting and the topic that was discussed before the desired one, the page with the information he wanted was easy to find.

Third point of the day: revoking the Prince Hongjoong’s privilege to have guards in his residence.

It has been proposed to the King that, considering the Prince’s routine and desire to remain isolated and hidden from the world, he does not need to have a pair of guards by his door at all times. Therefore, the Ministers suggested removing the guards from their posting so they can engage in more important jobs serving the Crown. The King dismissed the proposal under pretext to ponder about it during the rest of the week. No official decision has been made on the matter, it shall be examined again in the near future.

“They want to remove his guards?” Jongho asked, completely taken by surprise. He was not expecting anything in particular really, but he hadn’t been ready for this. One thing was for the Council to cast him aside to the furthest corner of the palace or even to ignore him and his duties, but it was something completely different to leave him unprotected.

“It was just a proposal,” San explained, nodding without even peeking at the text while Jongho continued reading looking for something else. Something that could explain that reckless and unprompted decision, but there was nothing more. “The King didn’t seem pleased with it, but he had the same reaction when they discussed building a residence for the Prince and he ended up accepting.”

“You think they want to harm him?”

“Removing the security from a member of a Royal Family is never a good sign,” San snorted, not a single ounce of entertainment or amusement in his expression. “I didn’t want to risk it.”

Jongho nodded slowly as he left the book on the shelf, taking mental note of the dates of everything they were discussing so he could take a look at the orders, laws and accords released during that period of time. Just as a matter of precaution, to make sure nothing else seemed suspicious or strange in his eyes. A careful and thorough inspection he already planned on taking bit by bit every night.

“I still believe that it would have been more useful to have you inside those walls,” conceded the scholar after pondering for a moment. He signalled San to get out of there and both of them rushed their steps, eager to leave the most dangerous part of the situation behind them. “But I understand why you had to act.”

“I was determined to remain with His Royal Highness mainly to gather information, but they were casting me away every time a private meeting took place in his chamber. I guess they thought I had been too close to Hongjoong in the past to risk it even if we are merely strangers now,” San began explaining without being asked to. He seemed to have finally understood that they both wanted the same, that they were both suspecting the same. “After that proposal I had to take action, I couldn’t stand by and wait until the King or the Crown Prince did something about it. I needed to be by Hongjoong’s side by the time they actually went through with the order, just in case.”

Once outside, Jongho locked the door and left the key in its place, making sure that everything was exactly where he had found it so nobody would suspect anything. Rationally he knew that nobody would pay attention to the exact direction the key was facing when he had taken it or even the fact that he had been there longer than usual and the candles were shorter than they would have been any other night, but he couldn’t stop himself from trying to minimize the suspicions. 

San, on the other hand, seemed a little restless moving around the opened and unforbidden space with the fingers of his left hand playing with the handle of the sword while the others opened and closed next to his side. He scattered the place with a frown and Jongho noticed how his stance had not fully relaxed since they had encountered each other. He was right to have been tense but he needed to calm down now. In the unlikely event that someone would enter the building, the best way to divert the attention was to appear completely normal and not about to jump into someone.

“How has your time with the Prince been so far?” He dared ask in an attempt to dissolve the tension.

“Uneventful,” was all the guard said in response, which made perfect sense.

As far as Jongho knew, the Prince had barely left his quarters since San had joined him. The scholar himself had visited a few times to deliver some documents and books, as he had been instructed by both Hongjoong and Wooyoung. Only he was allowed to visit freely, the prince seemed to trust in him alone considering how forward he had been about the information he was interested in lately. Learning about Blessed by the Moon was nothing strange or to be ashamed of, but the secrecy in which he had asked about it made Jongho gather that he didn’t want others to know.

Every time he showed up by his quarters, Hongjoong always received him with open arms, offering a cup of tea as if he was eager to engage in conversation with someone different from his servant. However, Jongho was always passing by and could never stop for too long since his job demanded a lot from him. And every time he had to decline his invitation he could see the prince’s expression drop even when he tried to hide it, disappointment covering him whole. He had always looked lonely in Jongho’s eyes, although he tried to conceal it.

“I’m surprised they take so much trouble with him when he basically recluses himself all the time,” San added after a long pause that Jongho wasn’t sure how to fill. “He is always in his room reading or bickering with his servant.”

“All the attention they put on him makes no sense at all,” Jongho agreed, thinking about all the documents that passed by him with nothing very specific but with a brief mention of the prince. “I will keep an eye on the documents, see if I find something else that raises my suspicions. You keep a close look on him, maybe you can hear something while on duty.”

“It is unlikely for the employees of the palace to care about Prince Hongjoong, no one really knows him after all, but you… I grew up with him, I have personal reasons for wanting to protect him, what is yours?” San finally asked. A question that had been obviously running in his mind for a moment now and that Jongho had been waiting for. 

“As I have already said I swore to work for the Crown, not against it.” He started facing the guard, trying to portray his honesty in each and every syllable because after having San there with him telling him where to look and what to look for he trusted the man. “I didn’t want this job simply for the comforts it would bring me, but because I cared and I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to be a part of it all, to be of help to create a better world if you must.”

He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. San didn’t need his personal reasons, his background and why this was important for him, but he deserved to know a tiny bit if he was going to put his job and mostly his life on the line for an alliance with him.

“Hongjoong has always treated me kindly,” he finally continued. “His interest in whatever he sets his mind to is fascinating to me, how he devotes his very soul to it even if it matters to nobody else. He feels like a kindred spirit to some degree, and if there’s something I admire in a person is passion and determination.”

San tilted his head slightly to the right before straightening his posture again, as if he understood but didn’t want to show too much. He seemed to be constantly in his head, following invisible and inexistent orders to always be the perfect example of what a Royal Guard should be. It must be exhausting, Jongho thought, but remained silent waiting for a reaction. Anything that would confirm either that they were going to work together or that San was simply gonna let this encounter pass as if nothing had happened.

“You work till late, don’t you?” San casually asked in the end and once Jongho nodded he took a deep inhale, as if he was gathering the courage to continue. “I will come if I figure something out or if anything changes. Pass by the Prince’s residence if the order to remove his guards comes forward. I will need to prepare myself if that happens.”

He didn’t say it directly, didn’t stretch his hand in front of his body for Jongho to shake, but he was obviously reaching out to offer an alliance between the two. It made sense, one of them could watch over the documents and inner turmoil of the political affairs while the other could handle everything that happened directly to the prince’s inner circle. They were only two, but it felt enough for Jongho. They didn’t need more for now since all they wanted was simply to figure out if something was actually wrong.

San kept his eyes on the scholar the whole time, analysing him fully and looking for any sign of mistrust in him. Anything that might force him to retract himself, to draw his sword again and put it to use. However, Jongho bowed his head towards him to accept and San answered in the same way, sealing the silent deal.

With that, apparently content at what he had achieved during his night escapade, San turned towards the main door to leave the place as silently as he had first entered it.

“He will eventually ask you about the reason for the change.” Jongho stopped him with his words when he was almost out of sight, remembering his conversation with the prince when he had first communicated the news to him.

“I know,” San murmured looking back. “I will take care of that.”

And just like that the guard abandoned the place.

Jongho remained there alone for a moment longer, taking a piece of paper to write down all the numbers of dates and localizers he didn’t want to forget, and left the building only once he was certain everything looked completely normal. His post organized as he did every night, the candles turned off one by one until the interior was completely dark. The ripped piece of paper in the pocket of his sleeve burnt against his skin as he walked outside.

A couple of patrolling guards saluted him on his way out of the palace grounds as he headed to his residence. He lived a few minutes away from the walls like the majority of scholars did, in a well equipped house that had been offered to him the moment he had passed the examinations. A way to assure that the most important employees of the Crown were near enough to be called in the case of an emergency, just like the main Ministers’ houses were located a few steps away from the main entrance to the palace.

However, Jongho never used the main door. He didn’t want people to see him in and out and the big wooden door called too much attention to anyone who approached it, so he always turned to one of the back ones reserved for the service. One that people from the city couldn't see because it led directly to the forest.

It was then, as he took cover in the shadows to head back home, that he saw a familiar figure in a blue hanbok rushing through the nearby trees. It was not the first time Jongho had seen the Prince Kim Hongjoong going back from one of his escapades, but it was definitely the one that worried him the most after the conversation with San.

Chapter Text

Everything had seemed to be damned from the moment Seonghwa had first proposed to perform. From getting the clothes fitted to his body to his fans needing to be mended for the settled date. And even when he had kept on telling himself that it was all on his mind—based on his desire for this to work out just enough for him to get the money and not getting himself into too much trouble—he couldn’t ignore all the issues that kept surging around him.

When Yongbok finally appeared, rushing like a madman between the people with both fans over his arms, Seonghwa felt like he could breathe again even with that lump in his stomach that wouldn’t let him be.

“Thank you!” Seonghwa almost screamed when he was handed his dancing accessories, lunging forward to take them into his own hands to check that everything was as it should be, completely ignoring the protests from the person who was fixing his hair.

“Please, tell me they are okay now,” Yongbok begged, biting his lower lip with expectation and anxiety oozing from him.

Seonghwa wasted no time to unfold them and examine them carefully one by one, checking on the parts that had been damaged before. They looked as good as new, as he knew they would since the craftsman he had given the job to was the best in the city, the old man also knew he needed to do it perfectly for the special occasion. But even with the certainty that his fans would be fixed, the possibility of them not being ready on time had been weighing on him all day. It was part of his job to take care of both his performance clothes and the accessories he used in every stage and he knew all too well what would happen if any minor inconvenience had forced him to appear without fans on the stage or if it had stopped the event from happening altogether.

“They are perfect. Thank you, Yongbok- ah ,” he finally said with a relieved smile on his face, seeing how the other relaxed in front of him and his shoulder fell forward as the tension left his body. Seonghwa felt slightly guilty for having asked him to do this for him, but he really trusted no one in that place more than he trusted him—and Yongbok had been really eager to help.

“There’s already a good amount of people waiting for you,” the younger said casually as Seonghwa returned to the place he had been occupying for his hair and make-up preparations. There was barely any emotion in his voice when he said that, nothing of the excitement and joy that some others held inside them when they wished him good luck. Yongbok knew how much he despised performing, how much he had wanted to never do this again, but he was clearly trying not to show his worry in his voice in front of so many others.

“I hope the performance satisfies their curiosity…” Seonghwa answered with a sigh, eyes locked on Yongbok’s as he tried to pass the real message to him: I hope they like the performance so much that I don't get punished for what I’m about to do.

 ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Seonghwa had seen the spark in the Tea House manager’s eyes when he had offered to do a single performance. He had seen it and it had frozen the blood in his veins even when he had already known this would happen. He was opening a door that had taken him a lot of time and work to close and leave behind him, but he had no other choice. He had to do it, for Yeosang.

He had accepted without Seonghwa even explaining, without him even having to insist or even beg for the opportunity.

“The stage is yours, you know that,” the man had said with that deep and disturbing voice of his that never failed to make Seonghwa’s skin prickle. The implication behind it making his stomach twist with disgust.

So he had started preparing everything without wasting more time, locking in the same practice room where he had first learnt how to dance. He knew what the public wanted, what made them desire him and what the manager of the place expected of him, so he refused to be any of those things. He was doing this for Yeosang and Yeosang alone, so he would follow his own rules whatever punishment awaited him after.

Those who had been in charge of raising him back in the day passed by more often than not, checking that he was doing his part of the bargain without complaint. That he was following the rules that had been imposed on him long ago about how he should perform and what was completely out of the table. Seonghwa didn't need a choreographer anymore, he was free to create his own moves and arrange them however he pleased but he could always feel the eyes on him making sure that he never overstepped. He had always been an exemplary employee, at least in front of them all, but they seemed to be constantly waiting for him to slip.

He never paid attention to their prying eyes all over him as he practiced and prepared, never even looking at them for fear of seeing something that might paralyze him. However, this performance was different from all the others. This one had a clear purpose for Seonghwa, this was the only performance he was preparing not by being forced to do so but because he wanted to. Because he needed to. And that alone had made him bolder, giving him the courage to stare at the private audience as he tried to figure out the best next movement to match the music.

He had known right then and there. The smiles on their faces and the way their eyes traveled through his body had been the confirmation he didn’t want that he would always be a pawn in their game. A slave to the decision he had made years ago out of desperation. More than a year ago he had managed to get out of performing by reasoning that he would be more useful in the spy department if he had more free time. And, even though they had all agreed without much protest, Seonghwa could sense the intention behind their permission. If they gave him what he asked for then, they could ask for something in return later on. They gave him a sense of freedom, the illusion that he had won being able to make his own decisions, but Seonghwa knew it was only that. An illusion.

He was trapped, always would be, and what he had seen in their expressions had been more than enough to stir something up inside of him.

His mind had very quickly made a plan. That same night he had approached one of the other residents of Twilight, a boy younger than him with long, lucious and white hair that had taken Seonghwa’s spot on the stage every week since he had officially retired. He had become the next important asset for Twilight since the moment they had seen him dance and sing and Seonghwa was close to him just because of their shared fate, teaching him when nobody was around so he didn’t receive the beatings Seonghwa had when he had begun learning. 

They had named him Crownless Angel, a twisted stage name based on his angelic features and how he had liked to adorn his head with flower crowns before he had been forced to perform. He didn’t do it anymore though, his simple pleasure turned into a brand they were constantly using against him, just like Seonghwa refused to wear anything silver in his free time. For Seonghwa he was simply Beomgyu, forever refusing to call him by his stage name since he was the only one in the whole Tea House who understood how the imposed nickname made him feel dehumanized.

Beomgyu had never needed protection like Yongbok had or had never looked as lost as Mingi when he had first arrived, so he hadn’t become an essential part of Seonghwa’s inner circle but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel affection towards him. On the contrary, they had spent so much time together in the practice room that he felt like an equal, sometimes almost like a friend. And that had been the only thought in Seonghwa’s mind when he had turned to him for his help.

“Can you compose a song for me?” He had asked in a secluded corner when he had been completely sure that nobody was hearing them, and Beomgyu had agreed without second guessing.

He had always been gifted in the music department, everybody had gathered that up about Beomgyu rather quickly, and was in charge of composing most of the songs that were played or performed in the Tea House. He was always given guidelines, just like Seonghwa had been given some for his choreographies, but this time around the older didn’t want him to follow the rules. He gave him a piece of paper with something written on it, the lyrics to the song Seonghwa wanted, and let him do the rest trusting in his judgement and discretion completely.

After that short exchange, both of them entered in their own selfmade routine. They practiced during the mornings, Beomgyu being in charge of playing a dull and assigned song, and at night they locked in Seonghwa’s room to prepare the real performance. With the song finished the choreography had been easily made, a very clear idea of what he wanted to show always present in Seonghwa’s mind. 

Getting a third person into their scheme had been a risk, but Beomgyu had managed to pick a girl Seonghwa had never properly talked to and convince her that it was all a surprise. That everything had been properly approved but that she couldn’t disclose any of it to anybody, learning the song without being caught and pretending like she was just a background player. It had worked surprisingly well and nobody had seemed to notice Seonghwa’s plan until it was too late.

The song, the lyrics, the dance, the performance, even the mint details on his clothes had been a declaration of intentions, a clear message to those people in the railway of the first floor looking down at him. None of it had been what Seonghwa had presented to them, none of it approved or supervised by any means. Everything done in secret to challenge them, to make it clear that he knew. He knew his proposal to perform again must have made them eager to force him to continue, but with every little detail of his show he had tried to make it obvious that he was not willing to play along anymore.

As the song was coming to an end he looked at them once again, daring them to put him in his place trying not to let the fear that ran through his veins show on his expression. However, fear washed over him when he noticed a figure that hadn’t been there before, standing in the centre as he combed his beard. Seonghwa knew him all too well and would have recognized his features anywhere, but he tried to dismiss the thought that that man single handedly could crush him without even blinking. He forced himself to put his faith in the need Twilight and the secret organization had for him above everything else. In how the audience reacted to his one time performance since that alone could spare him from being severely punished. If he was loved enough by enough people they wouldn’t dare to put his appearance at risk, people get angry when something they like and even worship is messed with.

When the last notes died down and his body stopped moving, all the tension from the last few days betrayed him. His eyes got watery all of a sudden, a single tear falling down his cheek before he managed to conceal it from the public thanks to his fans. By the time Seonghwa had to bow before leaving the stage there was no trace of the emotion on him, just a practiced and mysterious smile on his lips that he forced himself to keep there besides the group of important figures abandoning the place by the railing.

Everything became a blur after that. The applause, the cheers, the ovations but background noise in Seonghwa’s head as he began feeling the panic surge in him. Why did I do that? He was almost dragged out of the stage by Beomgyu, who put a hand on his back to guide him out of there as he bowed with him to pretend like everything was perfectly fine.

The moment they were backstage, Yongbok already there waiting with a worried and scared expression on his face, Seonghwa untied the jacket of his hanbok as if that could help him breathe. The girl who had sung with Beomgyu stood in a corner holding her gayageum completely lost in the scene, her eyes traveling from one person to the next with panic in them trying to understand. That alone was what made Seonghwa snap out of it.

“It was all me,” he muttered, his voice strained, holding Beomgyu by the shoulder to force him to listen. “I chose the song, I gave you the score. You thought it was approved, that it was a score I found lying around.”

“But-” the other tried to reply.

“No!”

He basically screamed because he could feel himself falling over the edge and he needed them all, the three of them, to go with it so he could take all the blame. He couldn’t be sure if all of them knew of the presence of the owner of the Tea House there that night, but just saying it out loud would have caused havoc so he didn’t. He refused to put them in danger for his reckless and stupid plan, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if that happened.

They were running out of time, Seonghwa was sure the man would show up there to teach him a lesson, and the girl by the corner was growing restless and more anxious. She had been kept in the shadows and now that she seemed to be understanding the panic in her face was obvious.

“I wrote the lyrics,” Seonghwa said looking at her, still holding onto Beomgyu for dear life because he needed his acceptance the most. “You can say that, it’s fine. I wrote them with the score in mind, I just sang it to Beomgyu so he could teach it to you.”

“I just made a few adjustments to the score,” he conceded, a relieved sigh leaving Seonghwa’s body instantly. “I told you it was a surprise, right?”

“Then why are yo-?” She started asking nervously, but her words died in her mouth as the door to the corridor slid to the side and a single figure appeared behind it. 

There he was, as expected, the owner of the Tea House with his fake smile and his proud stance. The man Seonghwa had been taken to when he first arrived at the place, the man who controlled both the business and the secret organization, the man everyone in the place feared in one way or another. The presence of Chae Jinhyuk, one hand on the handle and the other tucked behind his back, never ceased to make Seonghwa’s insides curl up. He looked nice, almost kind, with his partially white hair due to age, his short beard and his peaceful expression always on, but Seonghwa knew better. He had seen it, he had felt it.

How the man’s face had twisted with hatred and disappointment after Seonghwa’s first performance—the only one he had attended until tonight—when he had missed a beat. How the touch of the back of his hand had felt against his cheeks. How strong his grip was when he pulled Seonghwa from the arm to take him aside so he could teach him a lesson. How his voice had dragged his words after offering a place in the spying business, telling him they needed his powers, his beauty, his charm. 

And this time around Seonghwa was painfully aware that he had earned his punishment, that he was right to be scared of the consequences of his acts since he had basically challenged the ulterior authority with his performance. He was prepared for the screams, even for the slap on the face the moment he entered the room. Beomgyu, still held by Seonghwa’s hands, tensed under his touch and Yongbok behind him seemed to have stopped breathing. However, Jinhyuk looked at all of them with his business smile on and addressed Seonghwa as if nothing had happened.

“My dear Silver Light,” he said with his deep and fakely melodic voice. They all turned towards him and bowed deeper than necessary the moment he started talking. “You have been as dazzling as ever. Everybody is talking about you.”

“I’m glad they enjoyed it, sir.” He couldn’t have said more even if he had wanted to, for he knew the man didn’t want to hear anything else.

“I particularly liked the song you picked…” The man added, scratching his chin slowly with his right fingers, the truth behind his words haunting Seonghwa. “It’s not the one I was told about, was it?”

“No, sir,” he explained almost immediately. Jinhyuk was not a patient man. “I wanted to surprise you all, do something different since it was a special performance.”

The man nodded a few times, his eyes locked on Seonghwa and ignoring the rest of the people in the room. He was the target just as he wanted to be, so he didn’t protest. Instead he moved away from Beomgyu and Yongbok, shielding them with his body as if that way he could focus the man’s rage completely on him. He could still see the shape of the girl through the corner of his eyes, clutching onto her instrument as if that could save her.

“I wrote the lyrics myself, sir,” he dared to add, trying his best to make them all see that if they followed his lead they would be fine.

“I see…” The man smiled but the light in his eyes was telling a different story, one that Seonghwa couldn’t properly read and that made the fear in him raise even more.

Instead of screaming or even hitting him, Jinhyuk hid both his hands on his back as he paced around the room slowly and comfortably admiring the discarded make-up and complements. He grabbed one of Seonghwa’s fans from where he had basically thrown them after leaving the stage and started playing with it around his fingers. They all waited, a dense and heavy silence filling the room until he turned towards the girl and made her a sign with his head, allowing her to leave. The other two, however, were not given the same permission.

“Somebody asked for your company,” the man finally said.

“ My company?” Seonghwa asked slightly confused because that had stopped being part of his job the moment he had started performing. It was not good for the business to allow the biggest star to mingle with whoever paid the price, it made jealousy surge in the hearts of the public. And jealousy led to conflict.

“He is waiting in the private area. You better hurry, he paid a good sum to speak to you.”

The private area. Seonghwa rarely had to spend time there, except when he was called in for a meeting when the place was closed to the public. Nothing had ever happened to him there, nothing out of the ordinary at least, but he hated being there. It made him jumpy, the simple thought of having to play pretend with a stranger and allow him to sit close to him was already making him feel dizzy.

“Who is it?” He asked instead, as they were always told to do. Having the information of their client made it easier to know what to expect and what they wanted to receive. It was routine, one that could potentially save them from a bad encounter.

“That’s your job,” Jinhyuk’s smile widened as he walked towards Seonghwa. “Find out as much as you can and tell us about him, we have never seen him before.”

A newcomer. They were not rare since the fame of Twilight was widespread, but it was unusual for one of them to call the attention of the society that worked behind the Tea House. He must have paid a considerable sum, enough to make everyone suspicious of his presence and interest in Seonghwa.

“Make yourself presentable and go greet him,” Jinhyuk offered him his fan back with an elegant move of his wrist and Seonghwa took it without hesitating. “We don’t want to keep him waiting.”

And with that, the man turned towards the door to show himself out. One final look towards Seonghwa before he closed the door behind him, his eyes conveying the unsaid message that he could hear perfectly in his head. “We will talk later.”

“You should go, they are probably waiting for you,” Seonghwa finally said once they were alone, looking at the other two who were still visibly tense and concerned about the whole situation.

“What are you going to do?” Yongbok asked first with desperation straining his voice.

He should have stayed in the lounge room, greeting customers and helping in the kitchen when asked to. Seonghwa had seen him near the bar as he was performing, his expression growing more and more worried as time passed by. He hadn’t seen him run backstage, but he was sure he had done exactly that.

“My job,” was all Seonghwa said as he started fixing his clothes paying great attention to detail. He didn’t want to be scolded for being careless, he already had enough on his plate with the performance alone. 

“That’s not what I meant. Y-”

“You need to stop,” Seonghwa cut him, closing his eyes for a moment as he sighed deeply. When he opened them he stared at the two men in front of him, who were staring back with a slight frown and their jaws clenching not to interrupt him. “Stop worrying about it.”

“I won’t let you take the whole blame for this,” Beomgyu finally dared to say, visibly angry with his plan. “I composed the song.”

“You will because you must,” Seonghwa took a deep breath before continuing. He knew this would happen, they looked after each other after all, but this time things were different. They were not about to get punished for breathing like they did sometimes, this was serious. “This is my fault, I did this. Not you.”

“But-” they both tried, but he didn’t let them. Not this time.

“I can take care of myself, I’ve done it before.”

“But you don’t have to,” Yongbok almost yelled and Seonghwa was sure he had never seen him like this before. He rarely got angry even if he was mistreated, never raising his voice or even showing a bit of uncomfort, so Seonghwa got surprised and didn’t know how to react for a solid moment. “You are always taking care of everybody, let us at least worry about you.”

He sounded hurt, deeply, and Seonghwa could understand why but he couldn’t change who he was. He couldn’t back down, not when he was so certain that he was doing the right thing for everybody even if it meant his own doom. Not when changing his strategy about all of this would make them all suffer because of a decision he had made in the spur of the moment. To teach a lesson. To try and make himself look stronger than he actually was. He had been such a fool.

“Your worry makes us look guilty,” he simply said, he had never been good with words anyway. “I will take care of this, I promise.”

And that seemed to be the last thing Yongbok wanted to hear, for the moment the words left Seonghwa’s mouth he walked towards the door and left without adding anything else. He couldn’t blame him, not even a pinch of resentment towards him as he sighed again when he let himself drop on the floor in front of the mirror. He needed to get ready to greet whoever was waiting for him.

“Do you need any help?” Beomgyu asked, still standing next to him.

When Seonghwa raised his eyes to look at him he was met with a tired and almost disappointed gaze. Beomgyu didn’t look as angry as Yongbok had a moment ago, but there was a trace of hurt in his face that he was trying to hide.

“No, thank you,” Seonghwa answered with a smile that pretended to be soothing but that probably came out a bit more strained than intended. With that Beomgyu bowed to him and walked away, taking his gayageum with him and leaving Seonghwa in the room alone with his guilt.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

The thick curtain that led to the private room at the back of the lounge was already closed when Seonghwa finally got out, which could only mean one thing: the person who had asked for him was already there, waiting.

He breathed in deeply to calm himself, leaving all his fear and concern aside for a moment. He needed to focus on this encounter, to use his Silver Light mask to both get the information he was demanded to get and please the customer. It promised to be exhausting but maybe this could be his way out. Maybe if he did this one thing right, if he proved his value outside of the stage once again he would escape his fate, his punishment for challenging the authority. It was an unlikely outcome, a faint hope, but it was enough for now.

He avoided all the people who stopped him in his way, bowing politely to all of them and smiling when he had to, asking them to forgive him for not being able to engage with them. None seemed angry, as if they had all accepted that he was untouchable and unreachable. All except this stranger that had asked for him.

When he carefully opened the curtain with his right hand he was surprised to see the person on the other side pacing non-stop instead of sitting on the bench at the back of the room.

Everyone always decided to wait there since it gave them a view of the entrance, it made them feel in power. But this person, this stranger, seemed too nervous to stay still only stopping dead in his tracks when he heard rustling by the door. His face turned towards Seonghwa as he entered the place, his eyes widening at the sight even when he tried to control his expression a second later.

“S-Silver Light,” he stuttered as he bowed deeply, both his hands in front of his body.

Seonghwa was always greeted with respect in the Tea House thanks to his reputation, but he was very sure no one had ever bowed to him that deeply. As if he was someone important, someone with power. Someone he was not. Following his training, he bowed back although not as deeply, not because he felt superior but because he was supposed to appear proud. He had been told never to bow too deep, except towards those who owned him. A way of letting everyone know that even when he was a product to be bought he had the power while inside Twilight. A word from him and the client would be kicked out forever.

Seonghwa was the one to straighten first, which gave him enough time to examine the person in front of him for a few seconds. He was wearing a blue hanbok, a similar colour to the clothing Beomgyu was forced to wear in public, but much more simple than his. The thin robe over the clear blue main piece of the hanbok was a perfect combination, it didn’t draw too much attention towards him especially considering the fabric didn’t look very expensive. But since he had paid well enough for Seonghwa’s bosses to force him to have a private meeting, he was quick to gather that he was pretending to be someone he was not. No one with that amount of money would wear something cheap unless they were trying to go unnoticed.

However, there was no gat over his head, not even a clean and tight top knot holding his hair in place like every distinguished man of society did. No garnish on the clothes, no expensive complements except for the blue ribbon that held his hair up in a partial ponytail, not even the ending of his shoes showing under his clothes looked out of place. He didn’t even have long hair like most men of reputation did, slightly shorter than Seonghwa’s, who kept it like that for comfort reasons.

When he rose on his feet and Seonghwa was finally able to properly look at his face he was slightly surprised to find out how young he was. He had been normally asked as private company by people older than him, those who had the means to pay for it. Younger ones were rare, only those born with the money could fit into that category and most noble born never passed by the Tea House afraid to ruin their reputation. But the person in front of Seonghwa seemed to be around his age. 

As those dark brown eyes filled with excitement and nervousness looked at him, Seonghwa smiled at him, partly because that was his job but also because he was glad. Younger people were easier to control and manipulate and this man in particular seemed to be wrapped around his fingers already. The strands of hair that fell around his round face made him look almost innocent, naive, as he stared at Seonghwa with awe in his expression. His plump and droopy lips opened in what looked like admiration, devotion even.

Who is he?

“Please, sit,” Seonghwa finally told him, signaling the bench with his right hand. The young man obeyed after doubting for a second as if he was afraid of doing something wrong. That alone told Seonghwa that this was the first time he asked for company in such a way, which was interesting. Why had he asked for him? What interest did he have particularly in him?

The man took place in the corner to the left from where Seonghwa was looking at the room, his back almost entirely resting against the wall in a very straight position. His eyes didn’t even look at Seonghwa directly but they seemed to be lost in a place behind him, as if he didn’t dare to face him. However, if he had wanted a private moment with him there must have been something he wanted to get from the encounter.

Seonghwa walked slowly and confidently towards the opposite side of the bench without moving his eyes from the client, taking position a metre or so away from him. Differently to him, Seonghwa let his body rest calmly facing him. One leg crossed on top of the other so his body could fully turn towards him, both his hands resting over his thighs covered with the skirt he had worn during the performance. The man turned his head slightly to his left, his hands resting tensely over his legs, which he kept shaking slightly and non-stop.

“I have never seen you around,” Seonghwa finally spoke, cutting to the chase. They didn’t have a lot of time and he needed to do this right.

“Oh, yes,” the man quickly answered, stopping the movement of his legs and shaking his head side to side as if to take himself out of his trance. When he reopened his eyes he looked less nervous, more determined than before. A spark in his eyes that made Seognhwa’s eyebrows draw closer together for a brief moment. “It was my first time visiting the place, I am not from here.”

Seonghwa nodded knowingly and the man looked back at him again with a kind smile on his lips. The years there had taught Seonghwa a few things about people and what to expect from them depending on their body language. He had become a master at reading them, on catching what they were not directly saying but were thinking or wanting to do. He had decoded hundreds of unspoken words and had always been right, able to anticipate when someone was a potential danger to him or when they wanted something money couldn’t buy them.

But this man in front of him seemed different. He didn’t seem to be hiding his intentions behind a mask, didn’t seem to be expecting something he was definitely not going to receive. He had maintained the space between the two of them without even wincing, without even looking at Seonghwa out of apparent respect. His smile was genuine, tense but true. The look in his eyes wouldn’t have fooled anybody. Seonghwa could see how he was looking at him, as if he was the brightest thing he had ever seen in his life. And he didn’t particularly like feeling like a star after being compared to one in such a terrible manner, but he also couldn’t really get mad at him for it. It was his job after all to dazzle his audience. 

“I am Hongjoong,” he said after a while when Seonghwa was sure he was not going to say anything else. A hand over his chest as he slightly bowed his head with the introduction, not a trace of the previous stutter in his voice.

“Nice to meet you, Hongjoong,” he replied with a similar bow and his practiced smile already in place. “And what brings you here, if I may ask?”

“I have known about you for a long time, you see,” he said with his smile widening and his teeth showing. The light in his eyes brighter as if he had been waiting for this for a long time. “It was my first time seeing you perform, couldn’t attend any of the previous ones and I have regretted that every day of my life. Until today.”

Seonghwa blinked in surprise a few times, people never admitted missing his performances. They all wanted to be the biggest fans, the ones who had seen the most dances, the ones who were there every night just to grace in his beauty. And even the outsiders always relished in their words claiming it had been the most impressive act they had ever seen, something that had changed their lives forever. Something they would never forget.

No one had claimed to know about him but not being able to go see him. When people heard about Silver Light it took them little to no time to appear in Twilight to fulfill their curiosity, but this man—Hongjoong—claimed that he had wanted to see him perform before but could never attend. That meant he had known about him for more than a year and had been waiting for that night to happen ever since.

Still, Seonghwa’s walls around himself made him doubt every single word that came from his mouth. Afraid of having softened for a stranger who had paid to talk to him, he reached inside of him and called upon his magic. Always there waiting to be used, the pulse of energy quickly ran through his veins and came out of him in a wave directed straight towards Hongjoong. He didn’t use much of it, didn’t put a lot of effort into it, but enough to clear his doubts.

“And what did you think about it?” He asked at the same time, the closest thing he could do to force someone into telling the truth. All he had to do was think about what he needed and his magic would grant it to him. And right now what he asked from it was to make the man relax enough to open up. “Was it up to your expectations?”

“Much more than that,” his response was immediate. Seonghwa could see how his plan was working by the time Hongjoong’s fingers relaxed over his legs and his back fell a bit forward, not being held so tightly by his muscles. “It was beautiful and hopeful and heartbreaking, like a dream you never want to wake up from.”

Seonghwa felt his insides clench a little bit at his responde, considering for a moment that maybe he had overused his magic. He was very sure he hadn’t, but still the answer had come out very honest, much more than he was expecting it to be. The man hadn't flinched, hadn’t even blinked as the words left his mouth as if he had the answer prepared before being asked. Was it all an act? Had he been ready for his interrogation all along? Was he trying to charm him? Ironic considering that was exactly what Seonghwa’s magic did for him.

“Thank you,” he said instead, pretending to get flustered by the compliment while his mind rushed through a thousand possible scenarios why the person in front of him would want to look so innocent and galant to begin with. “I’m glad you liked it, especially considering it was your first time coming.”

Hongjoong smiled brightly at that, as if he was satisfied that his words had caused a good effect on him but he still didn’t seem to be waiting for anything in return. As if just being there was enough for him.

Seonghwa took advantage of the moment of silence, normally the clients led the conversation so he was used to waiting for them to say or ask whatever they needed, to take a closer look at the man. Now that they were seated next to each other, on arms length apart, Seonghwa could properly appreciate the clothes he was wearing searching for something that might tell him about his status. Still there were no hidden complements on his body or hair to clarify why he had such a sum of money to waste on this conversation, but the quality of the silk seemed better from up close. Nothing as expensive as what Seonghwa was wearing, but also not as cheap or common as it had looked from a distance.

But what made Seonghwa’s suspicions rise the most was the smell that came from the man. He was wearing perfume, faint and subtle, that blended with him and the environment almost perfectly. Seonghwa had learnt to recognize perfumes over the years, how the cheap ones were strong and sometimes even unbearable to him while expensive ones simply lingered around the owner. Like the scent of a recently bloomed flower, only distinct when you get close enough to the source. A good perfume was difficult to come across, even more difficult to purchase.

As the silence stretched Seonghwa got ready to ask away, but Hongjoong seemed to remember something he needed to say and blurted it out all of a sudden.

“I heard you wrote the song.” That was it, a very rushed sentence as he leaned a bit forward to emphasize his eagerness.

“I did,” Seonghwa answered, trying to hide his nervousness at the mention. How did he know that?

“The girl,” Hongjoong continued after clearing his throat and regaining his composure. “The one who played the gayageum said that to the group of men she was talking to when they complimented her singing.”

Seonghwa nodded at that, somehow relieved with the explanation because it sounded truthful. He had insisted on taking the full credit on it and the fact that the girl had already said that to a bunch of clients would make his job easier in case things went south. He thanked her mentally as he waited for Hongjoong to continue since he seemed to have a lot to say.

“Did you compose the whole song? Do you play an instrument? Do you usually write your own songs?” He asked hurriedly, barely breathing in between sentences. Seonghwa didn’t budge, his emotions were meant to be conceived in his line of work, but the man noticed his own over-enthusiasm and a soft blushed appeared in his cheeks a second later. “Sorry, I got a bit carried away.”

“That’s totally fine,” he answered with a calming smile. Seonghwa couldn’t care less about what worried the customers when talking to him unless it put him in danger, and Hongjoong seemed completely harmless. “I do not compose or play any instruments, my skills lie somewhere else. I have never written a song to perform before, this was the first time I did so. A special song for a special performance.”

“I feel even luckier, then,” Hongjoong giggled to himself.

He looked nice, maybe nicer than necessary. Seonghwa didn’t trust him, couldn’t do so, so he ignored the warmth inside of him that started rising everytime that full smile appeared on the man’s lips and his eyes became little crescents. He had to focus, he needed answers.

“So what brought you to the city then, Hongjoong?” He finally asked, trying to be subtle and careful with how he worded everything he said. “Pleasure? Business? Family?”

“Oh,” he shifted in his seat at the question. Nervous, uncomfortable. “I heard about your performance and needed to come by and see for myself.”

“You don’t work, then?” He pushed, trying to keep his voice mellow and filled with innocence, as if he was asking out of bane curiosity and not to fill in the gaps of the man’s facade.

“No, of course I do,” he immediately added, nodding energetically. “I’m a book merchant, I will do some business in the city in the following days since I’m already here. But you were the main reason for my visit.”

A book merchant. How much did he charge for a book to be able to afford that perfume and those silks? Who were his buyers so that he could gather such an amount of money for a simple conversation with an entertainer? It didn’t sound believable.

“I’m flattered then,” Seonghwa bowed his head to accept the comment, already searching in his mind for the next question he was going to ask. “Is that why you wanted to talk to me? You come from afar?”

“I’m not from that far away, but I barely leave my hometown,” he explained, playing with the hems of his sleeves and keeping his eyes on the edge of the table in front of them. “I just… wanted to confirm that you are real.”

“Well, I can assure you that I am very much real,” Seonghwa laughed a bit trying to dissolve the tension. Trying to keep his mind quiet, trying to ignore the tingling feeling in his fingertips. It was not the time for any of that. 

“It’s hard to believe something is real when you only see it in your dreams…” he mumbled so softly that Seonghwa almost didn’t hear it. It almost felt as if he was not supposed to have heard that considering how Hongjoong was not even looking at him and his eyes were lost in a different place and time entirely.

Seonghwa swallowed hard, suddenly feeling his throat dry and his words stuck in the back of his mind. His magic left aside, not reaching for it once since he had done so because he hadn’t thought he would need it anymore, but now… now he didn’t feel like using it. He still wanted that valuable information that might satisfy his bosses enough to let his mistake slip, but at the same time it felt wrong to dig deeper into the mind of the man in front of him.

However, his training seemed to take control as a defense mechanism.

“Since you will be in the city for a few more days, will you come by to see me again? I will not perform, but I’m always around greeting customers.” He was lying. Blalanty. He was always around, yes, but never where people could openly see and approach him because that was not safe. However, if he needed proper answers he needed to lure him in. He could sacrifice a couple nights of peace and quiet if that meant getting a job done.

“I fear I won’t have the time,” Hongjoong quickly replied, finally lifting his eyes from the wooden surface and looking Seonghwa right in the eyes. “I have a lot of meetings and appointments I cannot miss.”

“Do you have a place to stay?” Seonghwa insisted, and he was aware that he might be coming out pushy or even needy for him to stay around, something he always tried to avoid because it normally brought problems. But he was desperate to drag the conversation, he needed more information to save himself, to protect the others. “We have very comfortable rooms here, you would be in the very centre of the city.”

“Oh no,” Hongjoong shook his head strenuously, lifting both his hands in front of him to excuse himself. “My accommodation is all set up already. I should get going, actually, before it gets too late.”

What?

Hongjoong stood up without waiting for permission, suddenly in a hurry to run away when their time was not up. Why pay if you are not going to make use of all the time? It made no sense at all, but he looked settled on the idea of leaving.

Seonghwa stood up too, looking for an excuse to keep him there for a bit longer in a desperate manner but his mind was not working. It was stuck, frozen in place by the fear of having been unsuccessful. He couldn’t afford that.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Silver Light,” the man said with a shy smile as he bowed again with his head alone. Both his hands hidden behind his back, making his posture straight and clean as only that of the people in higher social status did.

“We still have time, why the rush?” He finally managed to ask, taking a step closer to him risking invading his personal space. He was always so careful with that, so meticulous to never let anybody have the opportunity to even brush his clothing without his previous permission, and now he was one step away from grabbing Hongjoong by the sleeve and begging him to stay.

“I don’t need any more time,” he insisted with a polite tone of voice and a soft gaze. “As I already told you I just wanted the opportunity to talk to you. My curiosity has been satisfied,” Satisfied? Mine has not. “Besides, I don’t want to keep you from the rest of the clients.”

“You don-” Seonghwa started but a figure by the curtain forced the sentence to die down on his lips.

“Time is up!” A big hand opened the curtain, one of the security guards appearing from behind it just in case he was needed. The muscular man took a look at Seonghwa first, looking for any sign of disturbance or trouble, but as the performer signaled him that everything was fine the man just waited patiently for Hongjoong to head out.

Hongjoong smiled at the guard and followed him outside without being told once, stopping on the threshold to take a look over his right shoulder. As he moved away from Seonghwa his perfume hit him again, making Seonghwa’s alarms go off. He couldn’t be a merchant, it didn’t make any sense. His stance alone, the fact that his hands looked pristine and soft, not a single spot of ink in his fingers, the way he seemed to grace over the floor with every step he took…

“Have a good night, Silver Light,” he said briefly, stopping Seonghwa’s trail of thought.

“Good night, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa answered, watching as he disappeared from his sight, leaving behind only his delicate smell and an unfamiliar feeling on his chest.

He was obviously hiding something and Seonghwa was gonna figure out what it was.

Chapter Text

The lights of his chamber were still on, a couple of candles burning and creating shadows on the windows. Perfect considering he was always awake at that time of the night, Wooyoung was doing a great job as a cover. Hongjoong took off his shoes even before stepping into the building, afraid to make any noise that would attract unwanted attention, and walked inside through the back door feeling the satisfaction of not being caught doing something he shouldn’t.

Taking a quick look at the main door through the small opening, he smiled to himself before turning to his room. Carefully, very carefully, he slid the door and slipped through it without even breathing. But the moment he looked inside he froze in place. Woooyung was still there while, in the prince’s head, he would have been sleeping by now. He had hoped for it, at least. Especially considering Hongjoong had wasted all his money when he had said he would go unnoticed. 

“I thought I told you to come back after the performance, Your Highness.” 

He was seated in his place, the one that was reserved for the Prince alone. The one no one was supposed to even pass, only allowed to sit by it with explicit permission from him. Hongjoong took a long look at the servant resting his elbows against his table, filled with his documents, seated in his spot.

“What do you think you are doing?” He said completely ignoring the statement thrown in his direction. Hongjoong was in charge here, not the other way around.

“You were gone for so long I was fearing I would need to take your role as Prince from now on. I was practicing.”

He said it matter of factly, his body weight leaning forward like Hongjoong used to do when receiving visitors. His hands crossed over the table, forearms resting completely on the surface, his back straightened and his expression unreadable. It was an unusual sight especially considering he was still wearing his uniform, making it even more obvious that he was breaking the rules.

“Wooyoung, move,” the prince said in a commanding tone, his brows furrowed in a mix of disapproval and confusion.

However, he remained at the other side of the table, the wrong side, as if he was suddenly lost and didn’t really know what to do with himself. It was probably the guilt and the shame whispering in his ear after what he had done in the Tea House, fear constricting his muscles at the simple thought of telling Wooyoung the truth. It must have been all over him, a brand on his face, since the servant squinted his eyes and analyzed him.

“What did I tell you, Your Highness ?” It sounded nothing like an honorary title and everything like an insult. “Go in. Watch the performance. Come back.”

“That’s exactly what I did,” Hongjoong responded in a heartbeat.

“Do you think I’m dumb, Your Highness? That because I am a servant I know absolutely nothing?” Hongjoong started shaking his head, but Wooyoung didn’t let him speak. He continued talking as he stood up slowly, in a calculating manner the prince had never seen him use before. “Do you think that just because I am always serving you while you read your precious little books I can be fooled?”

“Of course not. You know that’s not how I see you.”

“I know what time the performance started and how long it normally is,” Wooyoung enumerated with his fingers once standing, taking a careful and premeditated step away from the prince’s area. “I know the time you should have arrived if you had done what you promised to do. The moon shouldn’t be so high up in the sky and you know that. So, please, Your Highness,” he bowed deeply, exaggerating the motions with the tone of his voice still tainted with anger and concern, “explain to me why you got here so late at night?”

“The performance got delayed,” he lied, trusting that his skills were good enough to fool him. “And, on my way back, I got distracted in the forest looking for that Blessed I saw last time.”

Wooyoung straightened his back, arms crossed in front of his chest and a blank expression on his face. Hongjoong was not sure he was believing him, he was not used to lying to the face of others—even more to him —and he was very aware that he had no skill in the matter, but he decided to believe that he was doing a decent job. Nothing showed in Wooyoung’s expression, though, making him feel anxious of not having control over the situation. The servant remained deep in thought for another moment, letting Hongjoong’s words sink before his stance relaxed ever so slightly.

“How did it go?” He asked then, in a less commanding tone, but still with a certain shadow over his face that made the prince know he was still considering how to handle the situation.

However, Hongjoong was so excited to talk about it all, to let someone know how he had felt, how the performance had changed something in him, that he couldn’t control himself. The joy that had been bubbling inside of him suddenly left his body and the worry about lying got smaller and smaller in the back of his mind.

“It was incredible, Wooyoung, you have no idea!” He started talking, moving closely to him as he started removing the outer robe of his outfit. “It was perfect, he was amazing. I have never seen anything like it in my life. And the Tea House was much bigger than I had imagined.”

“Did you talk to anyone there?”

“Only the bartenders,” Hongjoong said, turning his back on the servant not to look him in the eye as he said it. He could feel his expression flinch at that, but he was not ready to face the consequences of his reckless actions.

“Did you behave accordingly?”

At that, the prince couldn’t contain himself as he turned to face him again. He felt like a child being interrogated by their parents after spending a whole afternoon playing outside without supervision. And he knew he must have looked rather inexperienced to Woooyung’s eyes, but he was not a child.

“You have such little faith in me, it wounds me. I have learnt proper behaviour since I was little-”

“People don’t ‘behave properly’ at places like that, especially if they have been drinking alcohol,” Wooyoung cut him without even doubting for a second. “Your practiced manners can look suspicious to say the least.”

Hongjoong sighed at that because he didn’t want to have an argument after such an amazing day, but also because he understood Wooyoung’s worries. One thing was going out of the palace without really talking to many people on his adventure, but it was a completely different thing visiting the most crowded place in the capital. He was aware, but still it pained him that Wooyoung thought he could not put up a facade to protect his identity. He believed he had done a fine job all night, even while speaking with Silver Light.

“I really think you have nothing to worry about,” he finally replied, setting his hair loose since it was beginning to get uncomfortable now that he was back home.

“We will see about that…” Wooyoung mumbled from the same position.

He hadn’t moved even a bit, arms still crossed over his chest waiting for a full report. And Hongjoong wanted to spill everything out, to include him in the excitement of the best day of his life, but was afraid of the consequences. For now, he would have to remain a bit mysterious, saving some important parts to himself, just in case. Now that he had tasted what it felt like to be fully free, to be independent, he couldn’t risk Wooyoung taking that away from him and it was not difficult to imagine the servant fuming and forbidding him to go out ever again.

“Now, hand me the money you didn’t use,” Wooyoung suddenly said, extending his right hand towards the prince.

Hongjoong tensed in place for a moment but he reminded himself that he needed to keep Wooyoung contained for a bit longer. Maybe a few more days would be enough to protect his way of living, and then they would be able to go back to normal. But, for now, Hongjoong needed to hide the fact that he had wasted all the money Wooyoung had given him together with everything he had taken from his savings. There was nothing to give back, unfortunately, and even though Hongjoong didn’t regret his decision, he could imagine Wooyoung disagreeing with him.

“Can we leave this for tomorrow?” He asked instead, yawning as he finished talking. “I’m tired and would like to rest.”

“Rest?” The face of Wooyoung was of pure shock and disbelief. Even his voice tone had risen a few octaves with the surprise. “You’re normally the most active at this time of the night.”

He was right. Besides, with the excitement of the night he was far from feeling even a bit tired, but he needed to get rid of the servant. He didn’t mind laying in bed in the dark to think about the night once and again, tonight he didn’t mind about being bored or alone.

“It’s been a long day, Wooyoung,” he sighed, trying his best to continue pushing the act. “Do you know how far away is the Tea House? It was a long walk.”

“It’s not that long, but okay.”

“It was for me, you know I don’t walk much.”

“So you want to… sleep?” Wooyoung insisted with a strange expression on his face. “No reading. No talking. No studying. Sleep.”

He didn’t sound convinced and with good reason. In fact, Hongjoong was already feeling his palms itch for not being already writing what he had discovered today. He needed to take out his books and notes, to continue reading about the New Moon Blessed especially now that he had seen Silver Light’s black eyes. He remembered reading about it in one of the books Jongho had brought to him on his last visit and he hadn’t paid much attention to it, but things were different now. Just the knowledge that he would not be able to open his books or go near a quill until the next day was making him feel uncomfortable, but he kept telling himself that it was for the best.

“Yes. I would like to sleep. Is that a problem?”

“Of course not, Your Highness.”

He bowed as if wanting to be forgiven, but there was something else hidden in his expression and his stance. Hongjoong wasn’t sure what it was, and he didn’t really have it in him to even think about it. He had other and more important things to worry about, like how was he going to escape his prison in the next few days to go back to seeing Silver Light.

So he just smiled at Wooyoung as he started moving to prepare everything for the prince to sleep without uttering a word. While the servant turned off candles and made sure that things were as the prince liked them, Hongjoong took off his outdoor clothes and put on his night ones. By the time he was all set to lay in bed but not to fall asleep, Wooyoung was waiting to be discharged by the main door.

“We will talk tomorrow. Thank you, Wooyoung,” Hongjoong said as he crawled into his mattress and pretended to go to sleep.

It wasn’t until he heard the doors being closed that he opened back his eyes and sighed deeply and in a dreamy way. Staring at the ceiling, right arm under his head and left one over his chest, Hongjoong smiled to himself as he relived the moment in his head.

When the white owl came to his window that night he didn’t even move from his bed, but waved him from where he was. 

“Thanks for the company,” he said to the animal, which remained there until it seemed to have enough.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Hongjoong didn’t sleep much that night, tiredness not even showing at his normal sleeping time, but he had forced himself to remain in bed to keep Wooyoung at bay. Daydreaming all night long, excitement bubbling in every cell of his body just thinking about the fact that Silver Light and the person from the forest were one and the same, Hongjoong started thinking about the next new moon.

The moment the moon had been visible from his window he had moved towards it to contemplate it, wishing time would move faster. He knew the chances of Wooyoung allowing him to go out in the next new moon were slim at best, but he had hope. He had managed to convince him before, he had even managed to get permission to visit the Tea House in the most crowded night, so why not? He allowed himself to dream about it. About going back to the forest, to the same place by the river. About Silver Light being there again, talking to that fawn he seemed to be friends with. About making himself visible this time and approaching the man. About them there together in the quietness of the place. About him asking Silver Light about his magic.

He continued dreaming about something akin to freedom during that night until the moon disappeared beneath the tops of the trees and the loneliness started to crush him slightly. He should have been used to it by now, he had spent half of his life alone after all, but it never felt dimmer. Not since his brother had started being properly trained to be king, when Hongjoong had been left behind since he was unable to participate in whatever the Crown Prince needed to do even when he so wanted to.

He had never been really alone before the age of thirteen. When his brother was not keeping him company he was spending time with San during their private lessons, or in the Library with his tutor, or even playing with Wooyoung when they were allowed to meet. But things had changed radically overnight. He was prohibited to mingle with servants, San started his training to be a Royal Guard away from Hongjoong and his brother was never around anymore. He could only rely on his mother, who tried to keep him company but had her own duties to attend to. In the end, most of his days he spent surrounded by servants who never engaged in conversation with him about anything apart from his duties as Prince. He was never truly alone, never allowed to be, but he had never felt as lonely as back then.

And that loneliness hadn’t abandoned him ever since, almost like an old friend showing up to greet him whenever silence was too heavy. He wished he could have learnt to handle it by now, but he didn’t know how, mostly because he refused to be alone ever again. He hated even the thought of it, his body rejected it completely. He yearned companionship, someone to confide into, someone who trusted him and in which he could trust. That’s why Wooyoung had become so important to him, his presence was soothing for both his mind and his heart even when sometimes he doubted if their relationship was even real. Yes, Wooyoung was very important to him, but due to being who he was, Hongjoong found himself regularly thinking that for the servant this was just work. It was probably not mutual, not at the same degree. But it didn’t matter because, whatever their relationship would classify for Wooyoung, the Prince saw him as an equal, more family like his own family. He barely saw his relatives anyway, while Wooyoung was there for him daily.

At some point during the night, he had been unable to withstand it anymore and he had started moving around to keep his mind occupied. He was not supposed to be the one in charge of organizing his quarters, he had been told time and time again, but he never cared. He didn’t want Wooyoung doing all the work, especially when it helped him so much to keep his fears under control. The servant had learnt with time that he was like that and had come to accept it. And even though he complained sometimes, he mostly let him do his thing. 

When Wooyoung opened the door to his room with a tray with breakfast already on hand, he took a look around the place and raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Hongjoong was already dressed for the day, something the servant was supposed to assist him in, and all his books and papers had been reorganized in the shelves. He had even cleaned his quill and inkwell, small black spots in the tips of his fingers, since time hadn’t passed quickly enough. The servant noticed the changes, he always did, but simply walked towards the table to leave the food there.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” he greeted him. It was the prince’s usual time for breakfast and his stomach was already rumbling with hunger but he hadn’t had the courage to call upon him sooner.

“Good morning, Wooyoung.”

The servant started placing the plates on the table, following the order and orientation he had been taught, and only moved aside when everything was perfectly prepared. Holding the empty tray with his hands in front of his body, he made a light bow to indicate to the prince that he could take a seat and begin eating. On days like this, when Hongjoong was struggling to keep the presence of loneliness at bay, he wished the servant could have breakfast with him. That they could sit down to eat together while they talked about whatever they felt like, but that was not allowed and it was one of the few rules Wooyoung had never dared to break.

Instead of uttering a word, Hongjoong took a seat and started eating carefully. Breakfast was not his favourite, but that day he was hungrier than normal so he barely registered the way Wooyoung shifted uncomfortably in his position to his right. His voice was the only thing capable of taking him out of his focused eating.

“A message has arrived for you, Your Highness,” he then said, surprising Hongjoong with his politeness.

“A message? From whom?” He never got messages, not even from his mother. She simply visited or called upon him when she had something to say.

“It’s an official announcement,” Wooyoung answered and it was clear by his expression that he knew what it was but was somehow afraid of saying it. Wooyoung was never afraid of telling him things and that knowledge alone made the prince restless.

“What is it? Let me see it.”

Hongjoong extended his left hand towards him, waiting for Wooyoung to take a small piece of paper from one of his sleeves. The servant gave it to him, bowing his head as a sign of respect, although it seemed to come more from a place of fear and worry. Was he scared of Hongjoong? He certainly hoped not, that would crush him.

The prince unfolded the paper with the Royal seal and the signatures of his father, a Minister and a scholar to testify its veracity and read it with a frown. It was a small message, no details given in it.

It has been decided that the guards posted by the Prince’s Kim Hongjoong quarters shall be removed in the next few days since they are needed somewhere else.

“They are removing my guards?” He asked out loud as he read the brief note again. “But… why?”

He didn’t really mean the question. He knew why. He was unimportant, prescindible, a nuisance for the Crown and, therefore, he deserved no protection. No one cared about him after all, so much so that they were stripping him from the only thing that stood between him and a remote possible threat against his life. Hongjoong had always been unbothered by the guards, moving around the palace without them when he saw fit, but that had been his own decision. His need for freedom, to hide away from wary eyes. But this… this was completely different.

“I-I don’t know, Your Highness,” was all Wooyoung managed to whisper. “There were no rumours, I didn’t know.”

Wooyoung had always been a bit too gossipy for everyone’s liking, with the exception of Hongjoong. He always had something to tell, something he had discovered during his morning errands and that he was dying to share with the prince. From the smallest thing like a Minister showing up with his clothes slightly wrinkled, to the romances that happened inside the palace. Wooyoung had always gathered the information and transmitted it to the prince, so the fact that nothing had gotten to his ears was, in fact, worrying.

But then Hongjoong remembered the only thing that had changed in the past days. The only thing that had made him wonder if something was going on.

“Is San outside?” He asked.

“Of course.”

“Send him in.”

Wooyoung sighed but didn’t complain. He left the tray on the side and walked outside of the room, leaving Hongjoong alone for the shortest of time. And yet it felt like an eternity, with the paper in his hands almost screaming at him that he was no one. By the time San crossed the threshold the prince was beginning to feel the breakfast rise in his throat, but he took a deep breath in to remain as calm as possible.

The guard bowed one step inside the room and Hongjoong signaled him to come closer, keeping an eye on Wooyoung who was about to close the door and leave the two of them inside.

“Stay,” the prince was quick to say. Maybe too quick, too desperate, but he needed him today. “You live here too, it affects you the same.”

Wooyoung didn’t complain, he nodded and walked inside making sure to occupy his place to his right. It felt better sensing his presence there, even when his aura felt off and not as vibrant as usual.

“Sit down,” Hongjoong asked San, who fell to his knees a few steps away from the prince’s table where half his breakfast was still uneaten. 

It had been a while since they had really spent time together, they barely knew each other anymore, but Hongjoong was quick to notice the way the guard’s hands clenched in fists over his thighs. He couldn’t even take a proper look at his face since he was not allowed to look directly towards the Prince and that made Hongjoong feel even lonelier. He couldn’t take it, it felt dehumanizing.

“Please,” he said with his voice restrained, “you don’t need to follow protocol here. Not as strictly at least. We were friends once, you never feared looking at me.”

“We were kids, Your Highness. Things have changed.”

“I won’t command you to do it,” he sighed, feeling the tiredness falling onto him all of a sudden. “I know you have a code and are proud to follow the rules, I can see it. But you don’t have to be as strict around here, no one is watching anyway.”

San wavered for a moment, his hands shaking slightly in their place and his eyes moving to where Wooyoung was standing. It was minimal, just a flinch, as if he was considering the words as well as everything he had seen so far of the relationship between the prince and his servant. Still he didn’t budge, making Hongjoong sigh in frustration before he began speaking.

“You knew about this, didn’t you? That they would remove my guards.”

It must have sounded like a reprimand in San’s eyes by the way he lifted his head almost immediately to look at the prince with fear covering his face. He looked guilty, burdened with it, as he started moving his mouth with no sound coming out of it. And, besides that, all Hongjoong could do was smile at him because he couldn’t help but feel relieved to be able to see his full expression, to look him in the eye.

San still didn’t answer and he looked like a cornered animal ready to run away even when there was no way out. Hongjoong hated seeing that, he didn’t want to be that kind of leader if he could even be considered one. He hated the power dynamics in the palace and didn’t want to partake in them in any way, especially with those he considered his friends or the closest he could get to that. That was the main reason why he had been so insistent to Wooyoung in forgetting about formalities inside those walls and why he was trying now to help San get loose on his sense of duty.

“I just want to understand what’s going on. I was planning on asking you about your change of posting anyway.”

San licked his lips nervously and took a deep breath in. His broad shoulders shook a bit with the exhale, his back completely straightened and his eyes now locked on Hongjoong’s. He seemed ready to face the consequences of whatever he was about to say, even when the prince would never do anything to harm him.

“I knew,” he said in the end, making Wooyoung rustle next to Hongjoong at the information. “It was discussed on the same day I asked for the change.”

“Discussed, not approved.”

“I figured it wouldn’t take them long to manage it,” San added, shrugging slightly while he rubbed his palms over his thighs, clearly nervous and uncomfortable. “I have seen how it works plenty of times.”

“So you came here because you wanted to protect him?” Wooyoung whispered unexpectedly, making the other two turn their heads in his direction.

The moment the guard’s eyes were on him, Wooyoung blushed and lowered his head, however he seemed to find the courage to remain in his place with his eyes glued to Hongjoong. His eyebrows were closer together, his eyes bigger and glistening as he looked at the prince with an expression he was not sure to identify. It looked like something between pity and emotion, as if he was touched by it maybe. By the guard’s actions most likely, Hongjoong thought taking into account the infatuation the servant had on the man, but the fact that he was looking at the prince instead was confusing him.

“I didn’t like the idea of him being unprotected, so yes,” San explained, still looking at Woooyung before turning towards the prince. “I swore to protect the Royal Family with my life, Your Highness, and you are part of it.”

Am I? Hongjoong thought, feeling the strain in his chest at the words from the guard. It didn’t feel like it most of the time, like he only belonged by name, but the fact that San cared seemed to be enough. Enough to vanish his intrusive thoughts about not being enough, about being a burden to the rest of his family, about not deserving to be protected. 

Even when he knew how reckless he was most of the time, especially when he left the palace, he never considered himself unworthy of the protection. Whenever he left his guards behind he was just trying to play pretend, like he was someone else and not a Prince who had to be constantly followed and watched over. He had taken the protection for granted, for sure, and now that they had taken it away from him he couldn’t feel anything but rejected. San’s affirmation felt like a hug, even when the guard was merely doing his job.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Hongjoong said after a while, lowering his eyes to his abandoned breakfast.

“That doesn’t matter now, it is done,” San reasoned with his usual firm voice after having regained his composure. “They will be discharged in a couple of days, I will adjust my schedule however you need.”

That took him completely off guard, he wasn’t expecting the man to fully offer himself for this. Yes, it was his job and he took it very seriously, but adjusting his schedule to fit Hongjoong’s meant a lot of things for them both. For one, San would have to change his sleeping hours together with his morning training and that felt unfair to Hongjoong. The biggest problem was, however, the implication of that adjustment. With San always around it would be even harder to sneak out and now more than ever Hongjoong needed to hold onto those escapades.

He turned his head slightly towards Wooyoung, who was fidgeting with his fingers as his eyes remained on the floor in front of him, and tried to think of a reasonable answer to give San.

“I don’t move much, Wooyoung can keep you posted on my plans for the day so you can accompany me when I go out. You can choose what to do with your time when I’m locked here.”

“I will plan accordingly,” San nodded, seemingly satisfied. “But I urge you to not go out alone from now on unless it is strictly necessary. Please, wait for me before venturing outside.”

Hongjoong agreed to his terms, he basically had no other alternative and didn’t mind San’s presence constantly behind him anyway. He was not like the other guards that had been under his service, he knew San. He felt comfortable around him, he trusted him—even more now that he had made it clear that he wanted to be by his side—and that alone meant more to Hongjoong than anything else.

So, yes, he would allow San to escort him around the palace every time he left his chambers. He would keep him content following his rules so that he wouldn’t notice him going out on the nights that he managed to escape the place. Because he would, he needed to see Silver Light again, and not even San would be able to stop him.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Trapped inside his room, even reading and writing were not  enough for him, so Hongjoong ended up deciding to go out for a walk. He had no destination, no place he wished to visit or thing he wanted to do, but simply to breath fresh air and let the spring sun caress his skin. He had told Wooyoung to stay behind and the servant hadn’t complained one bit under the pretext that he had issues to attend to. In reality he probably refused to walk side by side with San that day and Hongjoong respected that.

Hongjoong wandered around the gardens near his own building, taking a look at the flowers as he passed by. Of course it was forbidden to pick any of them, only the gardeners could touch the plants and modify them with the change of the seasons, but Hongjoong had always been rebellious in a way. A soft smile crossed his lips as he remembered himself as a child picking some flowers when nobody was looking that he then gifted his mother. She never scolded him or told him not to do it again, but accepted the poorly made bouquets and let them rest in her room.

“San,” he called, turning his head slightly back so the guard could hear him without approaching.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Remember when we used to play hide and seek? You could never find me.”

“You always hid between the flowers and I was too afraid to step on them and destroy them,” he could hear the smile in his voice as he remembered the moment. “My mother had told me time and time again that the gardens were not a playground and you always took advantage of that.”

With a smile crossing his face, one filled with nostalgia and fondness, Hongjoong turned on his feet to face San and continued walking backwards. His face was half covered by the gat over his head, the blue and white beads hanging from it hitting his chest with every step, and his hands remained tucked behind his back like a proper gentleman. San, on the contrary, walked with his eyes slightly squinted because of the sun, one hand over the handle of his sword and the other falling to his side.

“Will you still let me go if I venture inside the gardens? Are you still afraid of being caught?” Hongjoong asked then, playfully.

“We were children, rules were looser for us back then.”

Hongjoong had been expecting exactly that as he turned around again to face the path he was following, he separated the hands from his back and spoke again.

“Then that means you will still not dare to follow me now,” and without a proper warning, he took a detour in his way. One foot already stepping on the soil and leaving a prominent footprint, followed by another as the guard stood still in place. “I will not be long.”

“Yo-Your Highness,” he heard San on his back but didn’t look at him, too focused on the flowers to even care. “Your Highness, you cannot-”

“What’s the advantage in being a Prince if I cannot bend the rules a little bit from time to time?” He finally asked, looking over his shoulder towards the guard, who was looking around him like a lost child. “C’mon, San, I need help choosing the flowers.”

He could hear him curse from where he stood, a smile threatening to show in Hongjoong’s lips at that, before he stepped into the soil and followed the prince into forbidden territory. From the corner of his eye he saw him stepping carefully around the plants, avoiding the flowers and keeping his sword close to his body in order not to hit them. Meanwhile, Hongjoong squatted in front of a group of yellow flowers, caressing the stems with his fingers as he examined them looking for the best ones. He knew they needed to be freshly opened for them to last longer, even better if they were partially closed. Once he found the right one, he held the stem with one hand so as not to disturb the roots of the plant and he cut it with the other.

“I swear if we get into trouble because of this…” he heard San mumble behind him, still a few steps away from him. 

“We won’t,” Hongjoong assured him as he neared the flower to his nose to smell it with a smile on his lips. “I will take the blame, don’t worry.”

San shook his head a few times, sighing deeply, but he continued walking past the prince, nearing a group of purple flowers. Without saying anything he took a knife from his right boot and lowered himself so he could have easy access to the plants. Hongjoong observed the guard for a moment as he looked at the flowers with a frown, confusion over his face, before he reached for one of them and cut it. It was probably the first time the prince saw San breaking a rule so openly and, for some reason, that made him feel pride in his chest. It felt good somehow to see him go out of his way. For a moment Hongjoong imagined Wooyoung’s reaction to the guard picking flowers and the thought alone made him giggle to himself.

Under the cover of the trees, both of them continued cutting flowers—just a few each, never taking too many—in the quiet and loneliness of the gardens. For the first time since the sun had come out that day Hongjoong didn’t feel like he was choking on his own fears or worries. Even when they were not talking or addressing each other, he felt calmed and peaceful just by having San next to him. It was familiar and comfortable.

At least until they heard a few steps approaching and San’s head stood up almost instantly, ready to run away at the slightest sign of trouble. However, hidden as they were next to a stone wall and between thick trees, the figures that walked on the paved path upstairs didn’t notice them.

“Don’t rush,” Hongjoong recognized the voice of his father almost instantly and he lifted his head to pay attention. He knew he shouldn’t pry, but he couldn’t help it. “Think before making a decision.”

“I am not like you, father.”

Hongjoong frowned but didn’t dare standing up when he heard his brother answer. It was rare to find them both alone around the palace, they were almost always accompanied by someone else either a servant, a guard or a member of the Council. The prince turned his head to look at San, who looked somehow paler than before as he had clearly recognized the owners of the voices too. He remained still, looking up at the place where both the King and the Crown Prince were talking.

“And I don’t intend you to be,” the King said. He sounded rushed in Hongjoong’s ears, nervous even. “Just listen to me, I am more experienced than you on this.”

“I know and I appreciate your guidance, I always do.” His brother, on the other hand, seemed weary as if it was not the first time they were having this conversation.

Hongjoong was feeling uncomfortable just by listening, without even seeing their faces, and he could imagine how much worse it was for San. This was clearly a private conversation not meant for anyone else to listen, but they couldn’t come out and interrupt them now. So they remained where they were without daring to continue picking any flowers, squatted between the plants.

“But they are there to advise me, are they not? A good king must listen to his subjects, you taught me that.”

“Yes, I know what I said!” Desperation covered the words of the King before he lowered his voice. Now barely a whisper but still loud enough for Hongjoong to hear. “All I’m saying is that you should be careful who you trust. Not everyone in that room has the kingdom’s interests in mind when they advise you.”

Hongjoong’s frown deepened at that. What does he mean? It was a warning, a very obvious one, filled with concern. The prince waited in place hoping to catch something else, something that could give him more information about the whole problem, but as a new group of steps approached them he closed his eyes with disappointment.

“We were looking for you, Your Royal Highness,” it was the voice of one of the Ministers but Hongjoong had never bothered to even memorize their names to begin with. “Your Majesty, you will be pleased to know that Prince Hongjoong has already been informed about the removal of his guards.” 

The king hummed once before they all moved away from the place and their voices disappeared in the distance. 

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Both San and him stayed quiet the rest of their walk, standing up and exiting the gardens once they had no doubt that they were alone. On the way to Hongjoong’s quarters—the small bouquet in his right hand—the prince pondered about the conversation they had just heard while San followed him in silence. He didn’t even greet the guards by his door when he arrived back in his building, going straight to his room.

Wooyoung was back already, leaving a few rolls on the prince’s table, when he entered the room followed by San who apparently refused to move away from him until he was sure he was back safely. The servant raised his head to look at them with a polite smile.

“Your Highness,” he said, standing up and consciously avoiding looking into San’s direction. “Jongho gave me these rolls for you, he said you might find them interesting.”

Hongjoong nodded towards him, staring at the new additions on his table but unable to even show interest in them at the moment. His mind was still in his father’s warning towards his brother, the nervousness in his voice as he had told him not to trust everyone in the Throne Room. It had been strange, to say the least.

“Where did you pick those flowers?” Wooyoung asked after a moment of silence, his eyes locked into the prince’s hand with an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“I picked them for my mother, but got distracted on the way,” Hongjoong answered, removing his gat and leaving it on the first surface he reached. With that out of the way he continued walking towards Wooyoung, his hand with the flowers reaching towards him. “Here, do whatever you please with them.”

“That’s… not what I asked,” the servant mumbled as he took them with his left hand. He seemed to inhale to say something else, but his eyes grew wider when San followed Hongjoong offering a bunch of flowers too. 

“Take these too,” the guard said softly, moving away the moment Wooyoung took them so he could stand in his assigned position at the left of the prince’s table.

With a heavy motion, already feeling the weight of the amount of hours he had spent awake, Hongjoong let himself fall onto the floor in front of the table. His mind wandered as his hands moved with purpose over the new papers, opening them distractingly without actually reading anything in them. San rustled next to him as Wooyoung fetched a vase from a corner to put the flowers inside it.

“You seem distracted, Your Highness,” the servant finally dared to say.

The prince raised his eyes to look at him, his ears slightly reddish, as he stared closely. Wooyoung knew him so well it had taken him just a moment to realize something was disturbing him, but Hongjoong didn’t want to talk about it. It was more than enough that San had heard, he didn't want the servant to be involved too since it was not necessary. He didn’t even know what to do with the information he had, how to even interpret it.

“I have a lot on my mind,” Hongjoong dismissed the whole affair, trying hard to focus on the papers, to process the letters looking back at him. It was only then, with his heartbeat quickening in his chest, that the prince realized what he had in his hands. “Jongho gave you this, you said?”

“Yes, he said it was brief but probably of your liking.”

“And he was right,” he said, moving his hands with haste to fetch his own notes. Those where he had written down every piece of information he had gathered about Blessed by the Moon. “Remember how I told you I was certain the man in th-”

His words died in his mouth when Wooyoung left the vase with flowers on top of a cabinet making a loud noise that startled the prince. The servant looked back at him with a warning in his eyes right before he looked quickly in the direction of the guard and Hongjoong understood. San couldn’t know, he shouldn’t be part of this conversation if he wanted to continue going out of the palace.

“San, you are dismissed,” he said casually, trying not to raise his suspicions, and San just bowed and headed outside without saying a word.

“I hope you weren’t as careless during your walk.”

“We didn’t talk much,” Hongjoong shrugged, trying not to think about the eavesdropping over his family members’ conversation. There was only one way in which he would stop thinking about that and he took it almost desperately. “Anyway, remember how I told you I was certain the man in the forest was a New Moon Blessed and you laughed at me?”

“I didn’t laugh at you, I simply told you it was almost impossible,” Wooyoung answered, rolling his eyes as he approached the table and sat on the side of it but a few steps away.

“You did laugh, but it’s okay,” the prince didn’t move his eyes from the papers in front of him now, focused on his task. “I was right. It says here that one physical quality of New Moon Blessed are their black eyes.”

“You were too far away to be certain of that.”

“Yes, but I already told you I saw him practicing magic,” he insisted, his face looking down from one page to the next. “Besides, I would have been blind if I hadn’t noticed them when I talked to him last night…”

“Talked to him?” Wooyoung wondered, and the blood in Hongjoong’s veins froze. He shouldn’t have said that. “You told me you only talked to the bartenders and that you couldn’t see the Blessed from the forest on your way back.”

Hongjoong hummed, pretending like he hadn’t said something as stupid as that without thinking about it first. Wooyoung would never let it go, not the lie in itself but the fact that he had broken the rules he had set for him before leaving last night. Not to talk about the money…

“Hongjoong,” the servant called, forgetting about the honorifics and leaning forward to be able to look at him properly. The prince continued looking down, absentmindedly, until Wooyoung let his hands fall down over the papers with a loud thump when they hit the table. “I told you not to talk to anybody, what did you do?”

“Something happened last night,” he ended up saying after sighing. He had to tell him, he was dying to share it anyway, even if it caused the servant to get angry at him.

“What did you do?” Wooyoung repeated, slowly this time around. Marking each syllable carefully to make his displeasement evident. 

“There was a setback, you see,” Hongjoong said hurriedly. “Everything was according to plan, I took a seat in the middle of the space so as not to call too much attention. I ordered something simple and talked to nobody. And then Silver Light appeared on the stage and…”

“And what? Go straight to the point already, Hongjoong!”

“It was the Blessed from the forest. Silver Light and him are the same person!” The prince said with excitement all over his words, his arms opened in front of his body to emphasize the importance of it all. Because it was important, it was huge, it was destiny even.

Wooyoung blinked with surprise at that, unable to properly react to the statement for a moment. He remained in silence for a moment and Hongjoong allowed him the time for it, happy that he had not immediately reprimanded him. Maybe he could go unpunished after all.

“Wait…” The servant suddenly said, his eyes brightening with full understanding. Oh, no. “You talked to Silver Light?!”

He yelled. A blatant scream that anyone passing by would have heard without problem. So loud that, for a moment, Hongjoong worried San would show up at the door to ask if they were okay. But the guard must have been already used to their antics and nobody knocked or even asked if something was going on. Unluckily for the prince, who had no way to escape from the rage of his servant.

“Answer me!”

“I… maybe I did.”

“You can’t talk to Silver Light just like that,” Wooyoung mumbled as he stood up and started pacing around the room nervously. It was taking him less than expected to put the pieces together. “He is too popular for that and last night was a special performance. How exactly did you manage to talk to him?” He stopped on his feet on one side of the room, his expression half concerned and half outraged. Hongjoong didn’t answer immediately, scared of the consequences of his reckless actions. “What did you do, Hongjoong? And if you lie to me, I swear…”

“I kind of…” he started biting his lower lip at the impatience the servant was oozing, “paid to talk to him privately.”

“You what?” His voice tone didn’t even raise this time around. Shock evident in his face.

“I paid for a private meeting,” Hongjoong repeated, lowering his gaze to the floor with shame.

Wooyoung said nothing and the silence was even worse for the prince, as he could hear the barefoot steps of the servant as he approached the small table intently. It was heavy, both the lack of words and the quietness, but he didn’t dare look up at him. He feared that looking right into his eyes would infuriate him for good. When Wooyoung reached him, he sat back by his left and whispered:

“How much money did you waste on that?”

“Well, you see, I had some savings of my own an-”

“Savings of your own?” Wooyoung repeated in utter disbelief. “You are the prince, you earn no money!”

“I had been saving some coins every time you gave me money to go out,” he reasoned, finally looking at him. But the pride he had felt about his carefully curated system dissolved quickly when he noticed the rage in his servant’s eyes.

“Oh, so you have been stealing my money for months and last night you finally decided to spend all of it in a private meeting with the most important person in the Tea House after I specifically told you to go unnoticed,” Wooyoung explained slowly. Each word felt like a punch in Hongjoong’s body and pride.

“Well, when you say it like that…” Hongjoong tried to interfere in a quiet tone.

“Is there any other way to put it?” Wooyoung asked, raising his voice again, making the prince feel smaller every time he spoke. Hongjoong looked back at him ready to explain it in a different way, to make him understand that it had been a unique opportunity and that he couldn’t have let it pass, but Wooyoung didn’t even let him. “Don’t even dare!”

“But-”

“I hope you are able to find somebody else to help you get out of here from now on, Your Highness ,” he said as he stood up and walked towards the door with heavy and angry steps, “because I am done with this!”

He didn’t even let Hongjoong say anything else, panic surging in his body and his heart going crazy inside his chest. What if Wooyoung told everyone about his escapades? He wouldn’t, right? Even when Hongjoong had made a seemingly bad decision, the servant still felt affection towards him. He would never betray him like that. Right?

Wooyoung closed the door abruptly behind him and left the prince alone, unsure of what to do next. Not even a second later he opened it again to shove just his face inside.

“And don’t even expect me to bring you dinner tonight, I’m done!”

Sad, guilty and heavy Hongjoong spent the rest of the day locked inside his room dealing with his mind. Worried about the words from his father to his brother, as well as about Wooyoung’s reaction to the whole ordeal.

However, when night came and his stomach started rumbling, the servant opened the door and set the table with Hongjoong’s dinner. He didn’t stay inside with him watching him eat as he always did but just the fact that, not only he had stayed in the building but also had worried about feeding the prince, made Hongjoong smile in relief.