Tanuki
With the rays of the setting sun, comes Crown Prince Yoo Youngjae's 20th birthday banquet.
The royal family. His family is the pride and savior of war-torn Hanyang - the neverending sun in the sky. The young brunette sighs as panelled windows creak on their hinges, the dismal evening glow streaming into the prince's spacious chambers. It illuminates the handsome wooden furniture, the richness of the colors befitting the heir to the Joseon throne.
His future dazzles with immense power and authority, one that his half-siblings would gladly kill for. Yet, among the thick brocades and intricately-carved hardwood, his lone figure seems inconspicuous in the grandeur of it all.
The prince never gloated at the idea of ruling a kingdom. Youngjae takes it all in stride, with characteristic resilience. He is the country's beacon of hope, duly polishing every skill necessary to take his nation to greater heights.
The doe-eyed male has his reverie broken by a quiet voice in the background. "Youngjae-gun," the prince's closest attendant utters, carrying his ceremonial robes of royal blue silk spun with threads of gold. "It's time to get ready."
The words cause the corners of the brunette's lips to curve downwards, playfulness in his otherwise genuine frown. “Jonguppie,” Youngjae groans as he turns around to receive the neatly-folded items from his younger companion. Royal events are the prince’s least favourite occasions. “I wish you could dress in these and attend the banquet on my behalf.”
Youngjae rolls his eyes slightly when the other boy quickly steps back with a formal bow. “Youngjae-gun,” Jongup's good-natured smile grows slightly wider as he draws the curtains, leaving a sliver of light, “I am sure you will do well as usual. Please allow me to help you with your dress.” Taking a deep breath, the young male shelves away his complaints and calmly undresses down to his white underclothes, allowing his consort to wrap and fold the heavy material around his body.
The young prince had never enjoyed having to attend official events, finding it quite the hassle - but it was one of those things he got used to after a while. More daunting was the prospect of having to spend hours reciprocating paper-thin smiles and blatant sucking-up from the officials, or fielding venomous jibes from the other royals masked as polite chatter. Youngjae has to be extra cautious not to seem incapable, but also not to give too much away. It tested not just his abilities, but also his patience.
Crown Prince Yoo is as good at politics as everything else, but that doesn’t mean he likes it.
---
Youngjae smiles and bows at the resounding applause that follows his birthday speech, heart swelling in pride from the nod of approval from the most powerful man in the kingdom - Great King Hakjeong. He suddenly feels eyes burning into his back, and the male turns. His older half-brother, Yongguk, looks unsurprisingly sullen tonight, and the prince offers him a nod. He returns the greeting with a low bow, but Youngjae knows well enough that he doesn't mean it.
He sits down and on the pretext of adjusting his robes, the prince tilts his head in Jongup's direction with a knowing smile. The young prince had always stood out from his royal brothers and sisters with intelligence, polite manners, and above all, wisdom beyond his years - and Youngjae had quickly gotten used to the hatred and jealousy of being the king's favorite. He's alright, but the prince reckons his numerous guards and servants have it worse.
A wave of the Great King's hand sends servants and eunuchs scurrying to usher the entertainers onto the stage. “Very well, then,” Despite his age King Hakjeong’s voice booms over the crowd, and the conversation becomes hushed. “On this blessed and honourable day, let us proceed with the events and performances of the night.”
Youngjae's mood lightens considerably, excitement rising. Finally the attention will be temporarily off his shoulders and he has time to breathe.
Youngjae perks up at the sound of beating drums, an array of beautiful female performers ascending the stage. The prince delicately rests a hand at his mouth as he watches, eyes trained on the perfectly-synced troupe. The women are dressed in exotic-looking colourful costumes - probably from a distant city - and as the crowd oohs and aahs, the prince finds his attention wandering. No doubt, it is a pretty sight, but Youngjae's seen so many seductive gestures and coy smiles in his short life that he's almost become immune.
The dancers float away from the stage as feminine music fades into the sad stringed notes of the haegeum. The mood becomes more solemn with fancy dressed actors prepares to take over the stage with pansori.
As the opera begins, Youngjae's round-eyed gaze instantly settles onto one young actor. His hair is curiously peppered with gray, beautifully sharp eyes ringed with kohl. The prince forgets himself for a moment as honey vocals envelope his senses, and he is drawn into the other's world. Charisma ebbs off his very being; emotion in each syllable. The stripes on his robes merge and diverge like an illusion as he moves lithely - a fire that flows from his limbs towards the audience. His dark orbs reflect fierce determination, tinged with an inexplicably deep sadness as they meet the prince's own.
Youngjae is fascinated.
---
The image of the dark, handsome performer doesn't leave the prince for the rest of the night. It burns brightly in his mind as Youngjae retires to one of the palace gardens to cool himself off, accompanied by Jongup and a small entourage of guards. Water laps gently at the edges of the paved stone, the lotuses in the lake delicate under the moonlight.
"You called for me, Young Highness?" The tall, pepper-haired male genuflects. Youngjae gestures for him to take a seat and the performer bows respectfully, sweeping hair out of his eyes to meet his gaze for the second time that night. "Much obliged, Young Highness."
Up close, the entertainer is much more beautiful. Strong jawline, luscious lips, gaze dark through his lashes. The star of the traveling troupe. The tan man smiles as he submits under the brunette's scrutiny, no fear evident in his demeanor. The prince reciprocates, the apples of his cheeks tinged pink in the cold. Very interesting indeed.
"You sing very well," Youngjae begins, admiration clear in his low voice. He waves his hand, and a servant hurriedly pours them some rice wine. The prince lifts his cup in an invitation to toast. "I enjoyed your performance very much."
The tan man chuckles almost embarrassedly, lowering his head in gratitude. A clink of ceramic, and the pair downs their drinks. "Thank you, Young Highness. I am glad to have been of service, although I am still lacking in many ways."
Youngjae shakes his head with a laugh, folding his hands neatly on the table. "No, no, you really did very well. In fact, I've never seen a pansori actor as young and brilliant as you are. What is your name?"
The performer bows his head at the compliment, smile widening ever so slightly. "Jung Daehyun, hailing from the eastern coast. I am a fairly new addition to the troupe."
The prince hums, raising his filled vessel again. "Well then; let us drink, Daehyun-sshi."
---
Youngjae groans and tries to ignore the sharp knocking at the door of his chambers, his head throbbing dully at the sound. "Stop knocking and leave me alone. T-this is a command!" He adds the final line as an afterthought and wraps his blankets around him securely.
The door opens anyway, and the prince stubbornly squeezes his eyes shut. There is the sound of something set onto the hardwood table, and firm hands find their way to his back, patting him awake. "Youngjae-gun, have some seongjutang... It will make you feel better."
"No, no, no," the prince whines and tries to bat Jongup's hands away, ignoring the delicious smell of the hangover soup. "Let me rest a while more and I'll be fine. Stop touching me!"
The attendant heaves a long-suffering sigh, retreating to one of the chairs at the table. The Crown Prince had an unrivalled ability in keeping a perfectly manufactured image in front of the elders, but his notoriety of getting up in the morning hasn't changed - apparently not even after entering adulthood.
"Youngjae-gun! The Great King wants to meet you in half an hour, you really need to freshen up and get prepared," Jongup's voice is more pleading than anything else. The prince grunts in irritation, trying to ignore his raging headache as he reluctantly slides off the bed. "Alright, alright. I'm up now." He wets the gold cloth into the freshly-prepared basin of warm water on his dresser, dabbing at his face. The grey circles under his eyes seem more obvious than usual.
"You really did drink a lot last night Youngjae-gun," Jongup begins to sound worried, twisting at his fingers just as Youngjae takes a large sip of the warming soup. "You actually kissed the entertainer on the lips..."
Youngjae ends up choking for the next ten minutes.
---
It is a few days later when Daehyun casually walks into the rather disgruntled prince's art and literature lesson, delayed at least half an hour. Youngjae lifts his head up from the table questioningly and at Youngjae's widened eyes, the artist declares that he is completely delusional and can be thrown in jail for felony. Or something along those lines.
"But Mr. Shim-”
The tan male bows his head. "He has fallen seriously ill and will no longer be able to assist you, Your Young Highness."
Youngjae gapes. "Ah, but you-”
"I applied for a temporary replacement for his position as tutor upon hearing the sombre news, Your Young Highness."
Daehyun grins despite himself, sliding into the lacquered seat opposite the still-surprised Youngjae. A chambermaid hurries to pour honey citron tea, after which the pepper-haired boy seems to take notice of the small spread of refreshments. "I apologize for the rudeness, Your Young Highness, but the red bean buns do look absolutely delectable. I hope you do not mind if I sample them before we proceed with the session?"
"W-why not, sure." He mumbles, trying not to splutter and make a fool of himself. He think he's failed though - but the whole thing seems so outrageous that Youngjae wonders if the chill is finally getting into his mind.
---
/You were meant to be my reality-/
"I'll see you in the evening then, Your Young Highness?" The tutor's eyes crinkle into a smile.
"Till later. Take care, Daehyun-ah." The prince nods, granting leave with a slightly heavy heart.
Having a beautiful stranger around had been distracting at first, but what seemed like a daydream to Youngjae has become something else altogether. The mysterious aura surrounding Jung Daehyun fades quickly as time passes. Always laughing and smiling, Daehyun is surprisingly well-versed with history, art, and even in folklore - and putting his training to good use, he never shuts up whether in and out of lessons. A famed terror to the palace kitchens, the tutor eats more than Youngjae's attendants combined.
Daehyun comes by once a week for classes, then twice weekly, then almost every day. He refuses to reveal his age, but Youngjae is positive he isn't much older than himself, hence proving to be a reliable tutor and companion to the prince.
Spring flows into short summer, and as chilly autumn begins, the actor stays behind as his troupe moves to another city. He never questions his choice, but sometimes Youngjae catches a fleeting emptiness in Daehyun's eyes and he wonders if the other male is sad.
Yet even as someone so powerful, he can't do anything about it.
The prince stares at the setting sun outside his windows, and suddenly a random thought comes to his mind. The sad existence of the sun, as the fiery ball that burns itself out every end of the day. Stretching itself out, putting others before it. Trying too hard.
It is the first time the prince really questions his existence.
---
The clock strikes midnight, and Daehyun slowly unwraps his arms in which Youngjae has fallen asleep. He carries the prince bridal-style to his bed, tucking the soft pale figure into the downy covers. He catches the sight of himself in the mirror - haggard frame, darker bags under black eyes.
Yet another meeting where need overpowers reason and Youngjae, silently pleading him to stay.
He sets his jaw and exits the chambers, careful not to make a sound.
"You're late," Yongguk's displeased voice is low, and the kingfishers flutter away from the lake in alarm. His entourage watches Daehyun bows his head, smirking as he sits opposite the older prince.
"I apologize, Your Young Highness, but I was just doing my job."
An official steps out to chide Daehyun for his rude speech but Yongguk stops him. "I appreciate you doing a brilliant job, but my words are your orders. If you continue to be disobedient-"
Daehyun leans on the table, casually resting his chin on a hand - silent challenging the elder. "And then what, Young Highness Yongguk? You'll send me back?"
There are daggers in the prince's murderous eyes."I'd advise you to watch your step, Daehyun. Stop whiling away precious time and do what you need to do."
---
The people around Youngjae become slightly worried about Youngjae's dependency on the skilled man from unknown origins, rushing him to get married as soon as possible (but now if I think about it, it was dirty, - forcing him to do things he never wanted to) so he will be eligible to ascend the throne. The fair prince himself becomes worried, because he soon realizes his feelings for the other man has grown to an attachment much more than friends should be - not to mention, falling in love with someone of the same gender is perverse and punishable by death, no matter the rank. Although knowing things are going increasingly out of control, Youngjae refuses to banish Daehyun from the palace. (that was the 'so-called' bad day dreams - out of control)
The porcelain cup breaks into a million pieces as it crashes onto the floor, now dirtied with rice wine. Youngjae is furious with the plan his mother has come up with. "You can't force me to do it. I'm not ready to marry someone yet!" His raised voice is part stubborn, part pleading. "Please, umma."
The elder lady sighs, surveying the young prince with her worried gaze. "Youngjae, I understand how you feel, but I know the workings of the palace better than you. You will never be considered an adult and ascend the throne until you are married. Your position is less steady than you think. Back then, umma never had a choice either."
"What if I'm in love with someone else? I-if the person isn't royal..." The brunette blurts out, instantly regretting his words as his mother's face darkens. "Who is it that you've been keeping from me, Youngjae?"
Bright smile, honeyed voice, sweet kisses. Tan skin slapping against pale thighs.
"Is it because of that entertainer you've been hanging around so much, that Jung Daehyun? I don't like him at all. Youngjae, it seems like the boy has sucked your soul right out.
A love that aches because it cannot be.
The prince rises abruptly in his seat, storming back into his chambers with an air of finality. "I'm not getting married."
The royal family. His family is the pride and savior of war-torn Hanyang - the neverending sun in the sky. The young brunette sighs as panelled windows creak on their hinges, the dismal evening glow streaming into the prince's spacious chambers. It illuminates the handsome wooden furniture, the richness of the colors befitting the heir to the Joseon throne.
His future dazzles with immense power and authority, one that his half-siblings would gladly kill for. Yet, among the thick brocades and intricately-carved hardwood, his lone figure seems inconspicuous in the grandeur of it all.
The prince never gloated at the idea of ruling a kingdom. Youngjae takes it all in stride, with characteristic resilience. He is the country's beacon of hope, duly polishing every skill necessary to take his nation to greater heights.
The doe-eyed male has his reverie broken by a quiet voice in the background. "Youngjae-gun," the prince's closest attendant utters, carrying his ceremonial robes of royal blue silk spun with threads of gold. "It's time to get ready."
The words cause the corners of the brunette's lips to curve downwards, playfulness in his otherwise genuine frown. “Jonguppie,” Youngjae groans as he turns around to receive the neatly-folded items from his younger companion. Royal events are the prince’s least favourite occasions. “I wish you could dress in these and attend the banquet on my behalf.”
Youngjae rolls his eyes slightly when the other boy quickly steps back with a formal bow. “Youngjae-gun,” Jongup's good-natured smile grows slightly wider as he draws the curtains, leaving a sliver of light, “I am sure you will do well as usual. Please allow me to help you with your dress.” Taking a deep breath, the young male shelves away his complaints and calmly undresses down to his white underclothes, allowing his consort to wrap and fold the heavy material around his body.
The young prince had never enjoyed having to attend official events, finding it quite the hassle - but it was one of those things he got used to after a while. More daunting was the prospect of having to spend hours reciprocating paper-thin smiles and blatant sucking-up from the officials, or fielding venomous jibes from the other royals masked as polite chatter. Youngjae has to be extra cautious not to seem incapable, but also not to give too much away. It tested not just his abilities, but also his patience.
Crown Prince Yoo is as good at politics as everything else, but that doesn’t mean he likes it.
---
Youngjae smiles and bows at the resounding applause that follows his birthday speech, heart swelling in pride from the nod of approval from the most powerful man in the kingdom - Great King Hakjeong. He suddenly feels eyes burning into his back, and the male turns. His older half-brother, Yongguk, looks unsurprisingly sullen tonight, and the prince offers him a nod. He returns the greeting with a low bow, but Youngjae knows well enough that he doesn't mean it.
He sits down and on the pretext of adjusting his robes, the prince tilts his head in Jongup's direction with a knowing smile. The young prince had always stood out from his royal brothers and sisters with intelligence, polite manners, and above all, wisdom beyond his years - and Youngjae had quickly gotten used to the hatred and jealousy of being the king's favorite. He's alright, but the prince reckons his numerous guards and servants have it worse.
A wave of the Great King's hand sends servants and eunuchs scurrying to usher the entertainers onto the stage. “Very well, then,” Despite his age King Hakjeong’s voice booms over the crowd, and the conversation becomes hushed. “On this blessed and honourable day, let us proceed with the events and performances of the night.”
Youngjae's mood lightens considerably, excitement rising. Finally the attention will be temporarily off his shoulders and he has time to breathe.
Youngjae perks up at the sound of beating drums, an array of beautiful female performers ascending the stage. The prince delicately rests a hand at his mouth as he watches, eyes trained on the perfectly-synced troupe. The women are dressed in exotic-looking colourful costumes - probably from a distant city - and as the crowd oohs and aahs, the prince finds his attention wandering. No doubt, it is a pretty sight, but Youngjae's seen so many seductive gestures and coy smiles in his short life that he's almost become immune.
The dancers float away from the stage as feminine music fades into the sad stringed notes of the haegeum. The mood becomes more solemn with fancy dressed actors prepares to take over the stage with pansori.
As the opera begins, Youngjae's round-eyed gaze instantly settles onto one young actor. His hair is curiously peppered with gray, beautifully sharp eyes ringed with kohl. The prince forgets himself for a moment as honey vocals envelope his senses, and he is drawn into the other's world. Charisma ebbs off his very being; emotion in each syllable. The stripes on his robes merge and diverge like an illusion as he moves lithely - a fire that flows from his limbs towards the audience. His dark orbs reflect fierce determination, tinged with an inexplicably deep sadness as they meet the prince's own.
Youngjae is fascinated.
---
The image of the dark, handsome performer doesn't leave the prince for the rest of the night. It burns brightly in his mind as Youngjae retires to one of the palace gardens to cool himself off, accompanied by Jongup and a small entourage of guards. Water laps gently at the edges of the paved stone, the lotuses in the lake delicate under the moonlight.
"You called for me, Young Highness?" The tall, pepper-haired male genuflects. Youngjae gestures for him to take a seat and the performer bows respectfully, sweeping hair out of his eyes to meet his gaze for the second time that night. "Much obliged, Young Highness."
Up close, the entertainer is much more beautiful. Strong jawline, luscious lips, gaze dark through his lashes. The star of the traveling troupe. The tan man smiles as he submits under the brunette's scrutiny, no fear evident in his demeanor. The prince reciprocates, the apples of his cheeks tinged pink in the cold. Very interesting indeed.
"You sing very well," Youngjae begins, admiration clear in his low voice. He waves his hand, and a servant hurriedly pours them some rice wine. The prince lifts his cup in an invitation to toast. "I enjoyed your performance very much."
The tan man chuckles almost embarrassedly, lowering his head in gratitude. A clink of ceramic, and the pair downs their drinks. "Thank you, Young Highness. I am glad to have been of service, although I am still lacking in many ways."
Youngjae shakes his head with a laugh, folding his hands neatly on the table. "No, no, you really did very well. In fact, I've never seen a pansori actor as young and brilliant as you are. What is your name?"
The performer bows his head at the compliment, smile widening ever so slightly. "Jung Daehyun, hailing from the eastern coast. I am a fairly new addition to the troupe."
The prince hums, raising his filled vessel again. "Well then; let us drink, Daehyun-sshi."
---
Youngjae groans and tries to ignore the sharp knocking at the door of his chambers, his head throbbing dully at the sound. "Stop knocking and leave me alone. T-this is a command!" He adds the final line as an afterthought and wraps his blankets around him securely.
The door opens anyway, and the prince stubbornly squeezes his eyes shut. There is the sound of something set onto the hardwood table, and firm hands find their way to his back, patting him awake. "Youngjae-gun, have some seongjutang... It will make you feel better."
"No, no, no," the prince whines and tries to bat Jongup's hands away, ignoring the delicious smell of the hangover soup. "Let me rest a while more and I'll be fine. Stop touching me!"
The attendant heaves a long-suffering sigh, retreating to one of the chairs at the table. The Crown Prince had an unrivalled ability in keeping a perfectly manufactured image in front of the elders, but his notoriety of getting up in the morning hasn't changed - apparently not even after entering adulthood.
"Youngjae-gun! The Great King wants to meet you in half an hour, you really need to freshen up and get prepared," Jongup's voice is more pleading than anything else. The prince grunts in irritation, trying to ignore his raging headache as he reluctantly slides off the bed. "Alright, alright. I'm up now." He wets the gold cloth into the freshly-prepared basin of warm water on his dresser, dabbing at his face. The grey circles under his eyes seem more obvious than usual.
"You really did drink a lot last night Youngjae-gun," Jongup begins to sound worried, twisting at his fingers just as Youngjae takes a large sip of the warming soup. "You actually kissed the entertainer on the lips..."
Youngjae ends up choking for the next ten minutes.
---
It is a few days later when Daehyun casually walks into the rather disgruntled prince's art and literature lesson, delayed at least half an hour. Youngjae lifts his head up from the table questioningly and at Youngjae's widened eyes, the artist declares that he is completely delusional and can be thrown in jail for felony. Or something along those lines.
"But Mr. Shim-”
The tan male bows his head. "He has fallen seriously ill and will no longer be able to assist you, Your Young Highness."
Youngjae gapes. "Ah, but you-”
"I applied for a temporary replacement for his position as tutor upon hearing the sombre news, Your Young Highness."
Daehyun grins despite himself, sliding into the lacquered seat opposite the still-surprised Youngjae. A chambermaid hurries to pour honey citron tea, after which the pepper-haired boy seems to take notice of the small spread of refreshments. "I apologize for the rudeness, Your Young Highness, but the red bean buns do look absolutely delectable. I hope you do not mind if I sample them before we proceed with the session?"
"W-why not, sure." He mumbles, trying not to splutter and make a fool of himself. He think he's failed though - but the whole thing seems so outrageous that Youngjae wonders if the chill is finally getting into his mind.
---
/You were meant to be my reality-/
"I'll see you in the evening then, Your Young Highness?" The tutor's eyes crinkle into a smile.
"Till later. Take care, Daehyun-ah." The prince nods, granting leave with a slightly heavy heart.
Having a beautiful stranger around had been distracting at first, but what seemed like a daydream to Youngjae has become something else altogether. The mysterious aura surrounding Jung Daehyun fades quickly as time passes. Always laughing and smiling, Daehyun is surprisingly well-versed with history, art, and even in folklore - and putting his training to good use, he never shuts up whether in and out of lessons. A famed terror to the palace kitchens, the tutor eats more than Youngjae's attendants combined.
Daehyun comes by once a week for classes, then twice weekly, then almost every day. He refuses to reveal his age, but Youngjae is positive he isn't much older than himself, hence proving to be a reliable tutor and companion to the prince.
Spring flows into short summer, and as chilly autumn begins, the actor stays behind as his troupe moves to another city. He never questions his choice, but sometimes Youngjae catches a fleeting emptiness in Daehyun's eyes and he wonders if the other male is sad.
Yet even as someone so powerful, he can't do anything about it.
The prince stares at the setting sun outside his windows, and suddenly a random thought comes to his mind. The sad existence of the sun, as the fiery ball that burns itself out every end of the day. Stretching itself out, putting others before it. Trying too hard.
It is the first time the prince really questions his existence.
---
The clock strikes midnight, and Daehyun slowly unwraps his arms in which Youngjae has fallen asleep. He carries the prince bridal-style to his bed, tucking the soft pale figure into the downy covers. He catches the sight of himself in the mirror - haggard frame, darker bags under black eyes.
Yet another meeting where need overpowers reason and Youngjae, silently pleading him to stay.
He sets his jaw and exits the chambers, careful not to make a sound.
"You're late," Yongguk's displeased voice is low, and the kingfishers flutter away from the lake in alarm. His entourage watches Daehyun bows his head, smirking as he sits opposite the older prince.
"I apologize, Your Young Highness, but I was just doing my job."
An official steps out to chide Daehyun for his rude speech but Yongguk stops him. "I appreciate you doing a brilliant job, but my words are your orders. If you continue to be disobedient-"
Daehyun leans on the table, casually resting his chin on a hand - silent challenging the elder. "And then what, Young Highness Yongguk? You'll send me back?"
There are daggers in the prince's murderous eyes."I'd advise you to watch your step, Daehyun. Stop whiling away precious time and do what you need to do."
---
The people around Youngjae become slightly worried about Youngjae's dependency on the skilled man from unknown origins, rushing him to get married as soon as possible (but now if I think about it, it was dirty, - forcing him to do things he never wanted to) so he will be eligible to ascend the throne. The fair prince himself becomes worried, because he soon realizes his feelings for the other man has grown to an attachment much more than friends should be - not to mention, falling in love with someone of the same gender is perverse and punishable by death, no matter the rank. Although knowing things are going increasingly out of control, Youngjae refuses to banish Daehyun from the palace. (that was the 'so-called' bad day dreams - out of control)
The porcelain cup breaks into a million pieces as it crashes onto the floor, now dirtied with rice wine. Youngjae is furious with the plan his mother has come up with. "You can't force me to do it. I'm not ready to marry someone yet!" His raised voice is part stubborn, part pleading. "Please, umma."
The elder lady sighs, surveying the young prince with her worried gaze. "Youngjae, I understand how you feel, but I know the workings of the palace better than you. You will never be considered an adult and ascend the throne until you are married. Your position is less steady than you think. Back then, umma never had a choice either."
"What if I'm in love with someone else? I-if the person isn't royal..." The brunette blurts out, instantly regretting his words as his mother's face darkens. "Who is it that you've been keeping from me, Youngjae?"
Bright smile, honeyed voice, sweet kisses. Tan skin slapping against pale thighs.
"Is it because of that entertainer you've been hanging around so much, that Jung Daehyun? I don't like him at all. Youngjae, it seems like the boy has sucked your soul right out.
A love that aches because it cannot be.
The prince rises abruptly in his seat, storming back into his chambers with an air of finality. "I'm not getting married."