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Chapter Text

Jungkook’s footsteps pound against the tiled floor as he races through the flood of bodies. The announcement calls. Two minutes remain until Jungkook misses his ride and his chance to interview with one of South Korea’s largest corporations.

The way Jungkook’s heart burns is insignificant to the thought of his future. No amount of huffs and puffs will deter him as he navigates through the morning crowd of workers and students. Jungkook’s own, inexpensive suit tugs in all the wrong places, his tie seeming to suffocate him more than it had when he fixed the knot several minutes prior.

One minute left.

Jungkook can hear and see the train pulling up to the platform when he reaches the top of the stairs. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to take a step forward, doesn’t bother to check the descent. The ground disappears before him and Jungkook is dropping. Falling. Plummeting to his death. He can’t process the screams and horrified gasps that react to him. His body whirls and twirls like it’s in a dance as he rolls. His mind, oscillating between fog and fear, struggles to grasp onto reality.

After a long five seconds, all motion stops. It’s broken only by the beeping that signifies the closing of the doors. Jungkook has missed his train.

His head lolls to the side. Through blurry vision, Jungkook glances at the damp floor, stained red with his blood. His ragged breaths are barely audible over the chaos around him as emergency services are dialled, first responders shake him and bystanders whisper in shock. Amongst the expected noise, he hears the odd sound of hurried patters of footsteps racing away from him.

In that moment, clarity pervades his vision. Jungkook is losing more than just his future.

He takes one last breath before the world turns black.

ⴵ

It’s warm, like when the sunlight grazes his face in the summertime or when body warmer patches are stuck to him during the winter. A heavy weight lies over him and voices resound around him. They don’t sound worried but contemptuous and dismissive like Jungkook lying there, bedridden with aches over his body, is typical or even desired.

Jungkook wants to peel his eyelids open, wants to call out yet the pain paralysing his body forces it to refuse. Confused, exhausted, neglected, he lies helplessly. Warmth rolls down the side of his face, staining the pillowcase with his tears and still, no one comes to Jungkook’s aid.

The gravity of Jungkook’s situation dawns on him. He’s certain he has missed his interview, his last hope for a job after a gruelling three months of efforts to secure the opportunity. Jungkook wonders how he will face his parents. Jungkook wonders if they know of his condition. Jungkook wonders how much time has passed, a day, a week, a month. The frailty of his body only serves to further prove the lengthy time Jungkook must have lain motionless.

It takes monumental effort to move his fingers. A twitch. It takes a greater strength to compel his eyes to open. He’s met with white, unremarkable ceilings that give no indications as to where he is. A throb pounds at his temples, the aftermath after what was surely a concussion.

“Oh, Your Highness, you are awake.”

Your Highness? Were they speaking to him?

“Please call for the Imperial Physicians at once. His Highness has finally awoken.”

No, Jungkook must definitely still be asleep.

Jungkook closes his eyes as a frenzy occurs right beside his rigid bed. Jungkook hadn’t known hospital beds were this uncomfortable but now, it feels only a slight better than his apartment floor.

“Your Highness, p-please keep your eyes open and let the Imperial Physicians examine you.”

Jungkook flinches at the voice, recognition seeping in. Yugyeom, one of his roommates, hovers above him with his long hair fashioned into a bun. Jungkook must’ve been out for months for Yugyeom to grow his hair out to that length. It must all be a dream. His roommates must be playing a prank on him.

He chuckles, a raspy sound. The pain that ensues feels so realistic Jungkook doubts it for a second.

“Yugyeom-ah, quit joking and help me up.”

The man, Yugyeom, seems hesitant to meet Jungkook’s eyes as he’s helped into an upright position. Even though pain had flooded each movement, breathing feels slightly easier in this position.

Peering down, Jungkook notices the sheer white fabric that covers his torso. It crosses over his body, bound by thin ties at the waist. Incredulously, Jungkook takes in the rest of his surroundings. Wooden bedframes that are definitely not his nor a hospital’s hold the stiff mattress. The doors to the room are opened inward and Jungkook is offered a confusing view of a lowset vanity sitting below sheer window panels.

Several people kneel in neat rows outside the bedroom with their heads lowered. The men wear myrtle green hanbok tops paired with pants cut from the same cloth. The women are dressed in floor-length skirts in the exact shade of green and a blush pink top, designed with a contrasting green lapel and bow to unite the outfit.

The traditional wear leaves Jungkook in a stunned state. It’s like he’s fallen into the middle of a filming set of a historical Korean drama. Jungkook scans the rooms for cameras but finds none. He turns to the familiar face, hoping to find answers there except, after Yugyeom tucks Jungkook’s blanket snugly around him, he, too, falls to kneeling position on a raised platform beside the bed.

“Yugyeom-ah, where are we? Who are all those people? Why’re you kneeling?”

“Your Highness, th-this is your bed chamber. We are your servants,” Yugyeom responds, a crease forming between his brows. “We kneel b-because we seek your forgiveness. We failed to care for Your Highness a-and you were hurt due to our negligence.”

Hurt due to their negligence? Jungkook had fallen down the stairs at Seoul Central Station on his own accord. Panic begins to grip him, his heartbeat fluttering quickly in response.

“I- why- why’re you calling me ‘Your Highness’? Call me ‘Jungkook’. And please get up.”

“Oh my word, His Highness has most definitely suffered from an injury to the head. He appears to have lost his memory,” someone whispers from outside.

“All of you, please get up and stop calling me ‘Your Highness’. You’re scaring me.”

“Your Highness, i-it is only proper we address you as such. We have been reflecting upon our failure since your incident. It is understandable that you should p-punish us how you see fit.”

“I- I…,” Jungkook stutters himself. His fingers dig into the space between his eyes, calling upon reality. “I must still be asleep. This is just a dream.”

“Your Highness,” another voice calls from outside. It sounds like Mingyu, his other roommate. Maybe, Mingyu can finally make sense of this cruel prank they have all decided to play on an injured patient. Mingyu has always been easier to crack than Yugyeom. “The Imperial Physician has arrived, Your Highness.”

Mingyu sweeps into the room with an elderly man behind him. A grey beard decorates the physician’s face and a wooden box is held carefully at his side. When both men fall into swift bows beside Yugyeom, a mixture of dread and frustration sets in.

“Your Highness, thank the heavens you have woken up. My name is Im Kyungho. I am the Imperial Physician who has been tending to you since your injury. Please let me conduct an examination,” the man says.

“No, no, I’ve had enough of this. It’s not funny. I want to go home.”

“This is your home, Your Highness–”

“Stop calling me that! My name is Jungkook.” Everyone flinches, some bowing deeper, some leaning back like it’d minimise the volume of Jungkook’s voice. Jungkook pays no mind as he throws his legs over the side of bed, breaths faltering when agony shoots along his body.

“Y-Your Highness, you must not move before I have examined–”

“I’m going home. Get out of my way.”

Jungkook stumbles to his feet, shifting away from the hesitant hands that reach out to stabilise him. Navigating through the rooms past the servants poses as a challenge but Jungkook follows the trail of sunlight and swats away anyone that tries to deter him. Behind him, the servants mutter amongst themselves but it’s difficult to determine their words.

“Your Highness, please,” the physician murmurs. “You are in no condition to be on your feet. Please come back to bed. Your Highness–”

Jungkook pauses when he finally reaches the room that leads outside. The layout of the building is almost completely open with a dining table in view behind him, a study room filled with books to the right of that and a room for entertaining guests closest to the exit. Swivelling his head up, Jungkook takes in the red, green and yellow detailing, alike the vibrant ones that decorate the ceiling of Gyeongbokgung Palace.

Two men stand beside the open doors and hang their heads immediately upon noticing Jungkook. Navy hanboks, gats and spears give away their statuses as guards but neither appear as though they’d stop Jungkook.

Jungkook rests for a moment against one of the doors that is swung open to offer a view of a spacious, square courtyard, embellished with round pots and neatly trimmed hedges.

“Your Highness, you will fall and injure yourself again. I implore you to rest.”

Jungkook shrugs the physician’s hands away, intent on escaping this place. It’s only when Jungkook takes a step over the threshold that he notices the loose socks on his feet are not covered by shoes. It’s not the prospect of dirty soles that hinders Jungkook’s journey but rather the wave of dizziness that occupies his vision and makes him sway on the spot.

“Quickly! Help His Highness back into bed.”

“No. S-Stop–”

Mingyu and Yugyeom are beside him instantly, his arms slung over their shoulders as he’s dragged back into the bed chamber. Jungkook bites down the nausea that results from the rough handling. He’s lifted onto the bed, blankets brought over his legs and pillow raised to support his back.

“Your Highness, I apologise for insisting but–”

“Get out, all of you.”

“But I need to examine your injuries, Your Highness. You have been unrousable for almost a month.”

“I want to be alone. Please get out.”

The Imperial Physician stalls for a second before huffing and slamming his wooden box shut.

“Please notify me when His Highness comes to his senses,” the physician grumbles beneath his breath, loud enough for only the servants to hear, as he stalks out the chamber.

Jungkook waves his hand and the rest of the room flurries into action. Mingyu and Yugyeom bow deeply and dismiss themselves with the remainder of the servants. The doors to the bedroom are closed and Jungkook is left trembling in the empty space. He curls into a ball, tears flowing out his eyes on their own will and hands shaking as they wrap around himself.

Jungkook practices inhaling, holding, exhaling multiple times until the crippling anxiety is driven away. He needs a clear mind if he wants any chance at processing all that has happened and finding a solution.

He’s heard of this happening in dramas and books and others’ imaginations but the reality of time travelling is nothing like it’s described. It doesn’t feel novel or intriguing. There are the complex political and personal relationships that Jungkook worries he may have to learn to navigate, there’s the concern about what his family and friends are going to do after learning of his disappearance, there’s always the possibility of execution hanging over his head at a careless word or action in this world.

It’s overwhelming and suffocating.

Jungkook must leave. He must find a way back.

Forcing himself out of bed yet again, Jungkook drags his legs to the study room and extracts piles and piles of books from their shelves. His actions are careless as he flicks through the pages for any clues for his identity, the current time period, the emperor, how he can return, anything. Jungkook’s frustrations grow as he realises most of the books are filled with vulgar drawings of men in relationships. There are no concealed nooks and crannies in the bookshelves, hiding the previous owner’s secrets.

Time is an odd concept in this world with no clock or phone to indicate the moments that pass. Jungkook spends what feels like several hours scouring the room until a knock at the front interrupts him.

“Your Highness? M-May we come in to attend to you?” comes Mingyu’s timid voice.

“Don’t disturb me.”

“B-But it is time to dine. The Imperial Kitchen has prepared–”

“I said leave me alone,” Jungkook snaps.

Brief guilt makes Jungkook pause and stare at the two silhouettes hesitating at the door. The Mingyu and Yugyeom in this universe look so alike his friends but they surely don’t act or speak like them. They’re not the same people, Jungkook reminds himself, they’re here to do their jobs, not to care about him. They’re not his friends and he’s not theirs. It takes all his energy to turn his back on them.

After finishing with the books, Jungkook continues his search in the vanity room outside his bed chamber. Kneeling on the cushion before the mirror, he freezes. It’s fortunate the man staring back at him looks identical to the one in the present, down to each mole. His face appears to be the one variable that has not changed. The only difference that Jungkook should have discovered the moment he had awoken is the length of his own hair. It’s styled in a half up, half down, bare of accessories. Jungkook combs his fingers unsurely through the strands, checking if they’re really attached to his head.

It takes him several minutes of examining the one familiar thing in the room before he’s ready to move on. He’s unsuccessful once more in obtaining any answers when his ordeal of emptying the drawers of the dressing table produce only a variety of jewellery and powders, which now sit scattered around him.

The one conclusion Jungkook can come to with all these clues is the person whose body he has occupied must be vain and unsophisticated in literature. Reflecting on the previous interaction with his servants and the Imperial Physician, there is a probable chance Jungkook’s name has also been retained. No one had corrected him when he declared his name, after all. Aside from that, Jungkook really does not know much more.

Sighing with exhaustion and pain, Jungkook leans forward, his head resting on his bent elbows. He’s given one moment of reprieve before a ruckus outside sounds, much to the dismay of Jungkook’s sensitive ears.

Mingyu’s and Yugyeom’s voices mix with several others as they near the entrance. Jungkook barely has time to look up before the doors are opening and several figures are stepping over the threshold. Jungkook counts six. When they turn to him, Jungkook can immediately confirm these men are not of low status by their clothing. Each of them is dressed in silks, their gowns embellished with intricately detailed embroidery. Gold headpieces atop their heads hold their hair together.

It’s evident these men must hold a similar rank to Jungkook if Mingyu and Yugyeom were unable to prevent their entrance. Or, it may simply be that Jungkook’s servants hold him in such low regards that they will allow anyone to bypass them and enter his residence without announcement.

When Jungkook’s scan reaches the men’s faces, he meets a variety of expressions from indifference to frustration to impatience to disdain. It’s been a while since Jungkook has met strangers who are willing to wear their feelings so clearly on their faces, although, he finds it a complete shame. The unpleasant expressions take away from the men’s beauty, all of whom Jungkook would have thought breathtakingly attractive if his world was returned to him.

Behind them, dusk has fallen, promising darkness and solitude. Jungkook is envious of the way the moon and stars cower behind thick layers of clouds. A warm yellow light shines into the room from the servants’ lanterns. It casts shadows about the men’s faces, shrouding them in an air of mystery.

Jungkook sets the look on his face to caution and slight confusion but it must not come across as such as the men’s frowns deepen in response.

“What is the meaning of this? We were informed of your refusal for treatment from an Imperial Physician and your uncooperative manner towards your servants. You have only just woken up and your first actions are to speak cruelly to those who have cared for you for several weeks,” one of the men berates. Jungkook is given a clear view of his angled eyebrows when the man inspects the room with scrutiny. His nose is upturned in displeasure when he turns back. “It seems you have also chosen to destroy your residence and create more work for your servants.”

“Who are you?”

“You do not recognise us?”

“He must have injured his head in the accident. It is where most of the blood was discovered after all,” another man says, not addressing Jungkook.

“Knowing him, it may also be a ruse for our sympathy. Do not lower your guard.”

“The Imperial Physicians will be able to determine the true from the false. Yugyeom-ssi, send the Imperial Physician in. Mingyu-ssi, please light the candles in the rooms.”

The men speak one after another, completely ignoring him. Jungkook observes both of his friends, scurrying to obey the man. At the very least, Jungkook has confirmed his friends’ names but the attitude the unknown men are regarding him with sets his heart on fire.

From behind Yugyeom, a familiar elderly man returns and bows deeply to the six men before turning his attention to Jungkook. He remembers the name of the physician, Im Kyungho.

“Your Highness, you appear to have composed yourself since my previous visit. May I now examine your injuries?”

Jungkook wonders if he still has the choice to refuse subjecting himself to outdated medical procedures when the six men are glaring at him like he’s smeared jam across their bedsheets or set loose a hundred baby spiders in their bed chambers. So, with decorum appropriate for his title, Jungkook straightens his posture and slides his hands back into his lap.

“You may,” he responds tightly.

“It is preferable for Your Highness to return to your bed for the examination. Your servants will help support you back to your bed chamber.”

“No need. I can walk.”

Jungkook twists and pushes himself off the ground with noticeable difficulty yet he refuses to concede when he has already lost control of one aspect. Despite the energy he directs into moving his body, Jungkook doesn’t overlook the way one of the men sighs and tongues the inside of cheek in a perfect image of annoyance. Two men choose to entirely ignore him and engage in a staring competition with the courtyard. Jungkook is almost certain they’re not friends which make it all the more odd that they’ve chosen to visit.

Finding a comfortable position on the bed proves to be the toughest feat as the mattress has not softened since the last time Jungkook sat upon it. When he finally settles, the physician shuffles forward, kneeling on the raised platform and extracting different tools from his box. Uncertain, Jungkook sits quietly and awaits further instructions.

Silence swallows the room and leaves Jungkook in more confusion as no words are exchanged between the six men that will suggest not only their relationship with Jungkook but to each other as well. Although, it may not matter if Jungkook returns to his own world after a simple sleep.

“Please allow me to read your pulse, Your Highness.”

Jungkook extends the arm closest to the man, his right one, and observes the three fingers placed on his wrist. A minute later, Kyungho requests for Jungkook’s other arm and conducts the same examination. He feels almost defiant when the physician commences a physical examination on the back of his head. Jungkook winces when sudden pressure aggravates his soreness, invoking images of swirling pools of blood.

The physician continues to his body, exposing his arms and legs to show Jungkook the healing bruises and cuts. It must have been quite a nasty fall for the bruises to still be present after so long in a coma.

“It is lucky that Your Highness’ wounds are superficial and will not scar your precious body. Do you remember how you obtained these injuries, Your Highness?”

“I fell down the stairs.”

“That is correct. Your servants found you at the bottom of the stairs near Gyeonghoeru Pavilion. Does Your Highness recall why you returned there after the banquet concluded?”

Jungkook shakes his head, unsure how else to answer.

“Does Your Highness recognise anyone else here?”

Jungkook glances around, eyes falling to his two kneeling friends by the door before darting to the six men who had followed him into his supposed bed chamber. Several of them fill the distance with cold, analysing stares, as if daring Jungkook to say their names. It summons the stifling feelings he had managed to quash to the back of his throat and combines it with a new sense of dread to create…

Fear.

These men are undoubtedly not present with well intentions for the previous owner of Jungkook’s body. If Jungkook does not return to his body by morn, these men will be the ones he must avoid.

Turning his attention down, Jungkook clenches his clammy hands in his lap.

“Mingyu and Yugyeom,” he murmurs. Jungkook doesn’t see the surprise in his servants’ faces as they snap their heads up to Jungkook and then each other.

“That is correct,” Kyungho responds. “Mingyu and Yugyeom are the personal servants who have attended to you since your early years, even before your arrival here. Do you recall how long has passed since you arrived at the palace?”

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders.

“And your memories about your family? What can you remember about them?”

Jungkook pauses, taking a stab in the dark in hopes they will provide him some information that’ll help him return to the right time period or explain how he’d ended up here.

“I have an older brother, Jeon Junghyun.”

“That is correct. Is there anything else you remember about your family? Their role in this empire, perhaps?”

Jungkook can only shake his head again. When Kyungho does not answer his own questions, Jungkook sighs in disappointment.

“It is a little unusual that the only things you have retained are some names and the exact events of your traumatic experience.”

“Is that not typical of memory loss caused by head injuries?” one of the strangers asks astutely.

“No, I must say this is the first time I have witnessed such in my time as a physician. The memory loss caused by head injuries typically either affects one’s ability to remember things moving forward or causes a loss of memory from the moment one had sustained their injury up to several months prior to the event. Furthermore, it is even less likely for memory loss to occur in patients who injure the back of their heads. Typically, memory loss is associated with damage to the front or sides of the brain. I have never seen nor heard such presenting symptoms.”

“What symptoms should I be concerned about then?” Jungkook asks in annoyance. The physician had implied to the men that Jungkook’s symptoms are hardly believable, just like they had suspected.

“Changes to your vision, Your Highness. It could be anything such as having difficulties viewing colour, visual distortion, inability to locate or recognise objects and inability to recognise words. However, from my examination, it can be determined that you do not exhibit any of these symptoms at the present time. Is that correct, Your Highness?”

“I suppose.”

“Very well. The bruises and cuts you sustained after falling appear to be healing well but please be mindful to not aggravate them. As Your Highness has also been lying in bed for a prolonged period, it will also take time for your body to feel stronger. Your headache and nausea will also persist for a while so Your Highness should opt for lighter meals. For now, I will prescribe you some herbal remedies to help your recovery and confer with the other physicians regarding your memory loss.”

“What if my memory doesn’t return?” Jungkook asks. Will they let him leave the palace to recuperate?

“Please do you worry, Your Highness. The Imperial Physicians will provide you the best care. Hopefully, your memory will return to you in no time and you can resume your usual duties. Do you have any additional questions for me in the meantime?”

Jungkook shakes his head, curbing the dizziness that follows.

“Then I will take my leave. Please notify me if you experience any unusual symptoms, Your Highness. Mingyu and Yugyeom, please follow me so that I can provide you instructions for His Highness’ medicinal preparation and intake,” he arranges before turning the bow deeply at the unknown men.

“Thank you for your services, Physician Kyungho-nim. You are dismissed.”

“Wait,” Jungkook calls urgently. “Mingyu and Yugyeom can stay.”

“For what reason?” one man asks gruffly. His voice is cold, his stare even more so. The man has donned a hanbok as dark as his hair, standing furthest from Jungkook, in the shadows. He’s not particularly tall and if he had not spoken, Jungkook might have completely failed to notice him. Now, his three words command the entire room into silence, waiting cruelly for an answer that he must know Jungkook doesn’t have.

Futilely, he scrambles to find an excuse to keep his servants in the room, anything to not leave him alone with these six contemptuous men. His mouth opens but one glare from the man successfully clamps it shut.

“Mingyu-ssi, Yugyeom-ssi, you are both dismissed too.”

The room clears out in less than ten seconds. Jungkook keeps his gaze glued to his fingers but when he raises a thumb to pick at his nails, he realises his entire hand trembles. Quickly, Jungkook switch courses to entwine his hands together and digs his fingers into his skin instead.

Two squeaks signal the outer doors’ closure and the physician and his servants’ departure from the building, officially leaving Jungkook to the mercy of six hostile strangers.

One man wanders forward carefully as though he’s counting the steps to Jungkook’s bed. From the corner of his eye, Jungkook watches the man’s red gown stop just shy of the raised platform. It’s instinct, the way Jungkook’s body leans away, not that the man is invading his personal space just yet.

“How awfully convenient it is of you to injure yourself at a time like this, Jungkook-ssi,” the man says. “And what convenient symptoms you present with.”

It seems the ways of this world are not yet embedded within Jungkook because he’s immediately snapping an indignant frown to the man. Even if they had been enemies previously, how dare the man speak to an injured person with such scepticism and derision.

The deep drawl had come from the same man who had reprimanded him upon their arrival. Jungkook now faces the man’s sharp eyes, resemblant of a dragon’s. They’re narrowed on Jungkook without a hint of solace or kindness. Following the nose bridge down, Jungkook finds the man’s lips itching to curl into a snarl. They say you can determine one’s personality through their face and Jungkook is sure this man has been born with a face of dominance.

Even with such intimation, it doesn’t stop Jungkook from showcasing his feelings.

“I didn’t choose to fall down the stairs. What reason could I have to purposefully incapacitate myself for a month? Do you really think anyone in the right mind would risk almost falling to their death just to avoid something?”

The man’s eye twitches and Jungkook isn’t sure if it’s because he’s rarely challenged or if the previous Jungkook had regularly done so. Either way, the man’s breathing deepens and Jungkook only knows this because he bends down, crowding into Jungkook’s space. The man rests one hand on the wooden board Jungkook’s back rests against. Unnerved, Jungkook’s fingernails dig harder into back of his hands, seeking an escape.

“You best hope your accident and injury are real. If we discover any proof of your deceit, you will be named and treated as a criminal.”

“Those really are just the most comforting words a patient needs to hear during recovery.”

“There we go,” the man murmurs. His lips finally turn up and it momentarily surprises Jungkook to see the beginnings of a dimple. A man with such a despicable personality definitely does not deserve to have them. “Your disgraceful and disrespectful temperament will never change regardless of how many times you injure your brain.”

“Wishing that upon me now, are you?”

“You are not worth any space in my mind.”

“And yet I occupy a great lot of it. That’s what annoys you, isn’t it?”

Jungkook doesn’t know where he’s managed to summon the sudden bravado but it’s too late for him to back down now. He must show the man he isn’t to be belittled.

His success is somewhat heard when the wooden frame behind him creaks. Glancing back from the corner of his eye, Jungkook notices the white-knuckled grip the man now has.

“Your shamelessness knows no bounds.”

“I could say the same about your stubborn insistence that I had intentionally injured myself,” Jungkook says.

With how much the man has closed the gap between them throughout their conversation, Jungkook struggles to keep his focus on one area, his gaze oscillating quickly from the man’s left and right eyes. His words cause the man’s brows to furrow deeply but not in vexation. No. Jungkook is given a brief respite from the animosity when hesitance invades the man’s glare.

Jungkook doesn’t lower his eyes, doesn’t back down from the fight. Carefully, the man’s eyes travel from Jungkook’s eyes down to his nose then his lips, taking in every beauty mark and every imperfection. Jungkook doesn’t move. He’s a prey, waiting for the predator to make his move so he can react.

Movement from behind them breaks the man out of his trance. Wariness and disdain snaps back into their rightful places and the man loses all semblance of handsomeness once again. Angered by the spell Jungkook ensnared him with, the man pushes forward and positions his mouth beside Jungkook’s ear.

He’s too close, too close, yet Jungkook has nowhere to run.

“Those lips of yours have caused enough discord. I suggest you keep them shut,” the man whispers. The deep voice combined with the growl-like threat sends shivers running down Jungkook’s spine. His hands, which are still direly holding onto each other are ice cold with nerves.

When the man backs away, leaving an appropriate distance between them, Jungkook releases his exhale shakily.

“We will see how long you can keep your act up, Jungkook-ssi. Time has a wonderful way of saying nothing but exposing everything.”

Turning around, the man doesn’t deign to give Jungkook one last look before sweeping out of the room. The others linger for a moment before exiting with a parting gift of glowers and scowls.

Jungkook hadn’t realised how their presence had stolen the air from him until he’s able to breathe again. He lets his fingers tremble freely on the bedsheets and wonders what the physician might say about his rapid heartbeat. The stress and incertitude of the day have exerted Jungkook to the core, triggering a wave of fatigue.

He should have stood up for himself, should have flung a pillow at the man but it would do him no good to further agitate anyone in this world if he truly wanted to search for a return.

Tonight, Jungkook knows one thing for certain.

He must escape.

ⴵ

Chapter Text

The next few days, Jungkook remains confined to his bed chamber. He refuses the servants entry and has them leave food and water by the door. It’s simultaneously a relief and a concern that the servants obey Jungkook’s every command without question or hesitance, like marionettes to be wield. For now, Jungkook chooses to just grateful to have time to think.

On the third day after waking, Jungkook decides he needs to revisit the scene of his accident. There may be a portal or some other means for him to return. The physician said Jungkook had fallen down the stairs of Gyeonghoeru Pavilion. That’s where he will go, without the accompaniment and eyes of his many servants of course.

Unfortunately for Jungkook, he discovers that the building he’s been placed in only has one entrance. Fortunately, there are multiple windows.

After three days of learning the servant’s routines, Jungkook knows when to expect them. He waits for Mingyu to leave his breakfast beside the door of his bed chamber, counts five minutes before opening the door carefully.

Treading out to the dressing room, Jungkook sees a few shadows of servants cleaning the yard just outside the windows. He bypasses the empty room in the middle that connects all the other rooms and waits for movement. The windows of the study room are clear for more than a minute. Jungkook takes his chances and cracks it open. Noise bustles from the courtyard but Jungkook’s coast is clear.

The wood creaks below Jungkook’s hands when he hoists himself up and out. It proves to be difficult and reminds Jungkook that his muscles have been out of action for a month.

Sweat coats his forehead as he successfully evades all his servants and sneaks out of the courtyard. Whether it’s the humid weather or the adrenaline pumping through him, Jungkook finds himself leaning exhaustedly against a stone wall to catch his breath. He’s glad the hanbok he’d haphazardly thrown over his underlayer is a Columbia blue shade and reflects the intense morning sun.

Jungkook has visited Gyeongbokgung Palace several times with his friends and family but finds that his surroundings are completely unfamiliar. Remembering that there were some buildings lost and others restored to create the modern palace, Jungkook feels a little piece of hope ebb away. Jungkook will have to blindly navigate this palace and find a pavilion amongst several other unnamed buildings.

His efforts are entirely fruitless on the first day when Jungkook only succeeds on getting lost multiple times. The second day, Jungkook locates a pavilion from across a pond but there are only two sets of stairs leading up to it with each set containing three steps. Jungkook doubts falling down six stairs would have let to his month in a coma. Jungkook has limited success on the third and fourth days but he makes an interesting discovery on the fifth day.

Inside a building that expands to approximately three times the width of the place Jungkook stays, he finds maroon and green wooden walls homing thousands of books. From the exterior, Jungkook could already guess the building held something extravagant. On the left, a hexagonal two-storied structure had sat with hallways leading to the middle which showcased an impressive four sets of doors and four sets of windows. Finally, the right had fallen shorter from the outside, the appearance almost like a place of residence.

The library hadn’t been guarded when Jungkook slipped in and now he stands amongst a room that boasts countless shelves. They circle the vast space expanding to the right but stopping before the hexagonal room. Tables and seats occupy the first floor while stairs lead up to more shelves and cushions.

Jungkook takes his time exploring the library, praying that he’s searching for answers in the right place, that there might be records of paranormal activities.

A large majority of books are written in Chinese characters, before the hangul system was created. Jungkook counts approximately seventy percent of the shelves will have to be neglected.

Each day from then, Jungkook spends morning to dusk in the library.

Even though the library looks well-kept, void of any dust, Jungkook is fortunate to not run into any servants. He peacefully reads about the past emperors, none of the names matching what he had learned in his history classes. He reads that the entire palace system and marital relationships are different. Centuries and centuries of evidence records men and women marrying others of the same gender as a norm.

It seems that Jungkook has not only been transported to the past but he has also entered an entirely different universe. It’s the only explanation why none of the books share the same history.

A week into reading, Jungkook finally begins to reach the end of the timeline with the latest books dating to the late 1800s. In Jungkook’s history this would be the Joseon dynasty, ruled by King Gojong. Except in this world, all monarchs have been referred to as Emperors, ruling the Korean Empire. A text explains the division of the empire into seven kingdoms, each governed by their own kings, but united by the emperor.

The current monarch’s personal name reads Kim Namjoon.

Kim Namjoon was born 1869, now at the age of twenty-nine and almost half a year into his reign. His father, the previous emperor, had passed away, leaving behind the empire to his child who, is recorded as the most intelligent man with possession of an aptitude in political affairs. The emperor appears to be revered by all, with every recount of his early days singing him praises. It could also be that texts that oppose this aren’t allowed into the palace.

Jungkook scolds himself for getting side-tracked and returns to skimming the basic details, the emperor’s literary achievements, the emperor’s siblings, the emperor’s marriages prior to his succession, none of this is relevant to Jungkook returning home or provides an indication of his identity. The library does not appear completely up to date with only minimal recordings of the past few months present on the bottom shelves.

If Jungkook had been called ‘Your Highness’ by the servants, then Jungkook should be part of the royal family. He rules out prince, with the emperor only being a few years older than him. Is he a brother? A cousin? No current records mention his name so he must not be a significant figure. One thing Jungkook knows for sure is that his rank should not be too high if there are at least a handful of people who are allowed to not address him.

It’s his seventh day of burying himself in a corner on the second floor when the doors to the library are pushed open and footsteps interrupt his typical peace and solitude. The voices are too far for Jungkook to identify the people’s identity but he’s certain there are at least two men in the group. Peeking out from his hidden corner, Jungkook finds limited view from above. Unable to determine the intruders’ discussion but too curious to let it go, Jungkook slips out of his hiding spot and creeps down the stairs towards the hushed tones.

Following the voices, Jungkook realises how familiar he has become with the library when he’s able to duck past the shelves with ease.

When Jungkook is close enough to hear each spoken word, he positions his body behind a shelf separating him and the unknown men. He’s heard neither voice before but can hear them discuss matters regarding a kingdom and a man named Lee Jongwon. Jungkook can vaguely recall seeing the name in one of the books he’s perused but if he hadn’t committed the name to memory, the man must not be important.

Feeling bold, Jungkook pops his head out just an inch to view who he’s sharing the space with. There are two men, just as Jungkook had deduced, but now that he’s seeing their faces, he realises he definitely knows who these people are.

The men are about the same height but are easy to distinguish by their different coloured hanboks. The man in sage speaks with a voice so deep that Jungkook has to crane his neck to decode the man’s words. The other in navy responds with vigorous expression and waving hands that showcase his frustration.

“If we do not resolve this quickly, the nation will fall into incertitude. It is weighing on us all. The civil and military officialdoms are expecting a solution and we cannot proceed with our plans without his family’s aid.”

“I know, hyung, but we cannot force. At this moment, none of us trust his intentions either.”

Jungkook examines their side profiles, taken aback by the dominating presence that demands his attention. The minimal lighting in the library only heightens their sharp features and Jungkook is instantly reminded of them shaped into glowers. The spiteful anger and hatred these men had emanated towards him was enough for Jungkook to guess that an unpleasant history had transpired.

His choice to step away from his hiding spot feels temerarious now. Tentatively, Jungkook slides a few steps back, skulking behind a shelf further away. He shouldn’t have been so curious.

Jungkook is scanning his surroundings when the men’s voices move. They draw closer and closer and Jungkook panics. There’s insufficient time for him to return upstairs without hurried steps giving himself away. There are also no shelves nearby that will provide the appropriate coverage. Making a split-second decision, Jungkook settles himself onto the floor in front of a window and opens the book in his hand just in time for the men to round the corner.

In his peripheral vision, Jungkook observes the startled double take, followed quickly by shields that are raised to protect the men’s expressions and composure. Calculated steps travel towards him but Jungkook pretends to be engrossed in his book until their presence is too close to not notice.

“Jeon Jungkook, what are you doing here?”

“I’m doing what people do in a library,” Jungkook shrugs casually, not looking towards the men as he lifts the book in his hand.

“Library? This is a book depository,” the man in navy corrects. “Although, it is only right that you do not know what it is. You have certainly never stepped foot in one. The only reason you could have entered the book depository is because you are tailing us again.”

“Why would I want to follow you? To participate in this lovely exchange we’re having?”

“So instead, you would like us to believe you are reading while you hold the book upside down?” the other asks. “I do not think head injuries can result in a person suddenly becoming literate.”

“Unless you’re an Imperial Physician, your thoughts are baseless,” Jungkook retorts, snapping his book shut. His ears flush when he realises that the characters are indeed upside down. Swivelling his head up, Jungkook provides the men an expression reflective of complete innocence. “Who knows? Miracles do happen.”

“Miracles,” the man hums, pretending to mull over something. “I wonder if any miracle could ever save you, Jeon Jungkook.”

Instead of agitation, a flurry of amusement occupies his heart at the men’s predictable disdain. Jungkook’s eyes twinkle alongside his feelings and a sound similar to a snort escapes his mouth.

“Why, I’d be honoured if you want to keep me in your prayers. I could definitely use some good fortune seeing as though I may continue to be subjected to your company.”

“Well, is this not a new way to attract our attention?” the man in navy comments before squatting down so that Jungkook is level with his perfectly proportionate features. “Are you still claiming to have lost your memories, even after the conversation you heard?”

“I didn’t hear your conversation,” Jungkook insists, his glare stubborn. Not all of it at least. The parts he did, he doesn’t understand anyway.

“The longer you pretend to not care, the greater the consequences. Our empire is only at this level of unrest due to your impetuousness so if you would like to maintain your freedom around the Imperial Palace, we suggest you ‘recover’ soon.”

“How kind of you to encourage my recovery. I’ll definitely tell my brain and the physicians about your suggestion.”

Jungkook is thankful to have received a little more information. The previous Jungkook must have been involved with a man named Lee Jongwon. He also seems much more important than Jungkook originally surmised, if the royal’s actions were able to influence the stability of an empire. If Jungkook was truly to blame for the empire’s unsettled state, it’s not a wonder he isn’t favoured by anyone, particularly these men who seem partly responsible for fixing it.

His thoughts are interrupted by the man before him. Jungkook snaps out of his daze to catch eyebrows which wrinkle into a deeper frown, the man insulted by Jungkook’s sarcastic response.

“You have become more frustrating. I did not know that was possible.”

“Perhaps you ought to be more open-minded.”

“There is no need to be open-minded with you, Jungkook. We have already learned to anticipate the worst.”

“If I’m so despicable, maybe I should fall harder next time. Hit my head until it bleeds out. That would grant you your wish. Who knows? Maybe it was you who pushed me down the stairs,” Jungkook taunts. He recalls the echo of footsteps that retreated just before he had passed out. If the sound didn’t originate from his own accident, then it must have from this world.

“You are very brave to point fingers at me when it was your inebriation that caused your accident. The servants who found you reported that there were broken wine vessel pieces scattered around you. Even now, traces of wine and blood still stain the ground red.”

Jungkook tilts his head, frowning at the new information. The royal was conveniently alone and drunk when he fell down the stairs at Gyeonghoeru Pavilion. Coupled with the supposedly suspicious timing of Jungkook’s accident and the possibility of someone running away from the scene, it seems likely the accident was premeditated.

His lack of reply and the faraway glaze in his eyes confuse the men. Wordlessly, the man in sage also squats down until his face is in Jungkook’s line of sight. Although caution sharpens his features, there’s a hint of softness that Jungkook latches onto.

“Why do you think you were pushed?” he asks.

Jungkook opens his mouth, contemplating whether to disclose the information he has. Would these men’s view of him change if they knew that this could’ve been an assassination attempt? Would they help him?

He doesn’t get more than a few seconds before the other man interrupts his silence with a scoff.

“What other reason could there be except that he would like to deflect responsibility of his actions? Even if you did not plan for the accident to happen, you are without a doubt capitalising on the situation to gain attention and sympathy.”

Jungkook’s immediately snaps his mouth closed, his words dying along with it. Whipping his head to the man in navy, Jungkook pulls his mouth into a scowl that summons every bit of his irritation.

“Maybe if you could not let your ego dictate your thoughts and believe me for one second, you would see that there are more discrepancies in your version of what happened than mine. Your prejudice will cause someone to be killed one day.”

His harsh words are followed by a sudden gust of air that results from Jungkook springing to his feet. The men also stand and Jungkook has to tilt his head back to show them his glower.

“When you finally accept that I’m being truthful, we can talk about whatever it is my ‘duties’ were before my injury. Once I complete them, maybe we can be officially done with each other. God knows neither of us enjoy one another’s presence,” Jungkook huffs. He presses the history book into one of the men’s chest before stomping out of the library.

Jungkook hears the men mutter behind his back as he hightails out of the building. His footsteps are hurried yet careful, navigating the secret path back to his residence. More heightened, Jungkook surveys each turn before rounding corners. It’s embarrassing that two strangers can make him so paranoid when his status should offer him a blanket of protection.

He successfully sneaks back into his residence and rests on the cushioned seats in the room adjacent to the entrance. He replays the conversation over several times in his head. The men evidently require his and his family’s support to resolve tensions in the empire, tensions that they believe to be a result of Jungkook’s actions. Were the men part of the civil officialdom? Were they the officials assisting the emperor with problem-solving political affairs?

Jungkook rubs his forehead, feeling like it’ll explode with all this information and uncertainty. Despite a week’s worth of efforts, Jungkook still has many unanswered questions. The library, or book depository as the man had called it, appears to have failed providing Jungkook solutions. He’s nowhere closer to escaping this place as he was when he had first awoken. Jungkook needs to change his plans.

A knock on the door sounds and Jungkook is greeted by Mingyu’s and Yugyeom’s backs. They stare confusedly in the direction of Jungkook’s empty bedroom. He clears his throat and the two men spin around sharply before falling into a deep bow.

“Oh, Y-Your Highness, w-we did not expect you to be in the sitting room. P-Please excuse us for not providing Your Highness with refreshments.”

“That’s okay. I didn’t require any. Did you need something from me?”

“Y-Your dinner has been prepared, Your Highness. Will you be taking it at the table o-or in your bed chamber today?”

“The table please.”

Mingyu and Yugyeom jolt with surprise but nod in immediate compliance, gesturing for the rest of the servants to enter. Several pairs of eyes glance at him periodically as the table is set, as if asking why Jungkook has chosen to finally show himself today. When they catch Jungkook’s gaze, many servants jerk back to their tasks, hands shaking and movements clumsy.

Frowning, Jungkook stands up and nears the table. The servants closest to him cower away and in their fright, Jungkook’s chopsticks are dropped. Before he can blink, all six servants fall hastily onto their knees.

“Y-Your Highness, I apologise f-for my carelessness. P-Please have mercy,” a servant wails.

Jungkook’s brows furrow deeper, wondering how big of a crime dropping chopsticks is for the servants to be so fearful. When he doesn’t say anything, the servant presses his forehead against the floorboards and begins to sob.

“Wait, why’re you crying? It’s- it’s okay. It’s just chopsticks,” Jungkook tries to reassure. Frantic, he squats down, retrieves the chopsticks and places them back onto the table. “No one’s hurt, we can just clean them or get another pair.”

The servant is still trembling when he looks up and Jungkook tries to show his kindest smile. The servant flinches so violently that Jungkook himself jumps back, falling onto his rear. Widened eyes meet his and the servant begins to kowtow, his forehead slamming against the floor with each bow.

“P-Please forgive me, Y-Your Highness. I-I am most deserving of punishment but please d-don’t kill me. I have a family to care for,” the man begs. Horrified, Jungkook cushions his hand between the man’s head and the floor.

“Stop!” Jungkook commands. “Stop it, now!”

The man finally ceases his excessive headbanging but refuses to raise his head back up. Jungkook doesn’t have the faintest idea how to resolve the situation, how to calm the servant down and looks desperately at Mingyu and Yugyeom. Both are staring at him but their heads lower the instant Jungkook gazes upon them.

Jungkook desperately tries to recall how the servants were ordered to leave on the first day he had arrived.

“You’re all… dismissed? Yes, dismissed. I want Mingyu and Yugyeom to stay behind.”

The servant before him looks unsure but Jungkook nods firmly at the entrance and everyone scrambles out on unsteady legs. Jungkook realises he’s still on the floor and stands with an effortful groan. Mingyu and Yugyeom remain where they are.

“Please get up,” Jungkook murmurs.

Wordlessly, the men rise but their figures curl into themselves, as if afraid Jungkook will turn his anger onto them. The room is motionless and noiseless for several seconds as Jungkook decides what to do next. Carefully, as if not to startle either man, Jungkook sits on the stool facing the entrance.

“W-We will retrieve Your Highness clean utensils at once.”

Before Jungkook can stop them, Mingyu and Yugyeom have disappeared into the wind. They return a few minutes later with a new pair of chopsticks, laying it on the table and finishing setting up the dishes.

“Does Your Highness r-require anything else?”

“Please join me.”

“Th-That is not appropriate, Your Highness,” Yugyeom gasps. “P-Please inform us when you have finished your meal and we will return to clean up.”

Mingyu and Yugyeom bow and escape the building as quickly as Jungkook had from the library. He’s left in a stupor and reflects on which part of his actions had caused such fearfulness. Sure, Jungkook has been curt and dismissive towards them but he hasn’t shown any indications of causing harm to others. The distress and terror must have been buried long before Jungkook’s arrival.

From that moment, Jungkook abandons his quest in the library and is determined to befriend Mingyu and Yugyeom. Their perspective of the previous Jungkook may hold more truth and transparency.

Over the next few days, Jungkook keeps his servants close, letting them tend to him. Each morning, they tidy his appearance, dress him in layers of hanbok and accessorise his hair. All of them flinch at Jungkook’s sudden movements and cower away as soon as he opens his mouth.

Jungkook learns to slow his body down, to soften his words and to use any opportunity to showcase his well intentions. He cannot stop the servants’ instinctual reactions but he does manage an entire day where no one falls to their knees and two look Jungkook in the eye.

He sees the quickest and most change in Mingyu and Yugyeom, a week after his efforts switched over to focus on winning his servants’ favour. Jungkook is certain that their fear has shifted into confusion. Even their stutters have reduced until it’s barely perceivable. Seizing the opportunity, Jungkook calls Mingyu and Yugyeom into the sitting room after dinner. They refuse to take a seat, as expected, and stand with their hands clasped in front of them and heads tilted to the floor.

“Mingyu-ssi, Yugyeom-ssi, I need your help,” Jungkook says.

“O-Of course. What does Your Highness require?”

“I don’t remember much before my injury and would like to learn how to navigate the palace safely. Would you be kind enough to teach me the palace’s etiquette and explain everything about my role in the empire?”

“Y-Your Highness, we are merely servants. We do not know much about palace affairs.”

“Any information will be great. I really don’t recall anything from before the injury. Please.”

“Your Highness…”

“I just want to know enough so I won’t get in trouble.”

“As you wish, Your Highness,” Mingyu replies but caution still tints his answer. “I-Is it true that some names are all that you remember?”

“I also remember a little bit of the layout of the palace but I can’t remember what each building is called.”

“We are currently in Gyotaejeon Hall, Your Highness’ living quarters. We can take Your Highness around later if you wish to further familiarise yourself with the palace.”

“I’d really appreciate that. Thank you, Yugyeom-ssi.”

“Your Highness…,” Yugyeom stops to share a hesitant glance with Mingyu.

“Please speak freely. I promise I won’t be offended by anything and I’d rather drink poison than ‘punish’ you.”

“Your Highness, p-please do not say such things. It will get us in trouble,” Mingyu gasps.

“Sorry, I didn’t think. You’re right, Mingyu-ssi. I’m sorry.”

“Your Highness, you…,” Mingyu pauses again, daring to lift his head. When Jungkook meets the incredulity in the man’s gaze, he offers a lopsided smile in hopes to reassure both his servants. “Y-You have never apologised to us before or spoken to us so formally.”

“And prior to your injury, you have never addressed us by our names. It… it is odd that out of all of your memories, our names are one of the only things you remember,” Yugyeom explains. Jungkook wonders how obnoxious the Jungkook from this world must’ve been to not even know his servants’ names.

“While I was asleep, I had a very long dream,” Jungkook hums, mouth pursing. “The three of us met in school when we were seven and became easy friends. We were inseparable. We even completed our military service together, graduated university and were all chasing our dreams. I was so close… so so close when I woke up here.”

“School? University?”

“A place where people receive education.”

“I have not heard of such a thing. Only those born in affluent families are taught to read and write by tutors,” Yugyeom frowns in confusion.

“It was just a dream,” Jungkook murmurs softly. He sighs, remembering all that he’s missing. His family, his friends, his passion and dedication to his work. Mingyu and Yugyeom study Jungkook carefully, like they’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. It increases Jungkook’s resolve to prove them wrong. “Mingyu-ssi, Yugyeom-ssi, I really do want to form a friendship with you both. It might be vexing to you and I want you to be transparent with your feelings but I really don’t know why you and the others are scared of me. What kind of person was I like before for everyone to avoid me and refuse to meet my eyes?”

“Your Highness was… Your Highness was hard on others.”

“To what extent?”

“I-If we were having this conversation prior to Your Highness’ injury, our names would have already been provided to the executioner. Your Highness reminded us daily that servants have no right to speak about their masters o-or the happenings of the palace. We were to keep our eyes lowered and lips sealed. In the presence of Your Highness, our place was on our knees.”

“And you listened to him- well, me?”

“W-We would not be here if we had not and our families would also suffer any repercussions of our insubordination. We are not allowed to question Your Highness’ actions.”

“Even when I’m in the wrong?”

“Your Highness is never wrong.”

“That’s not true. Everyone has shades of good and evil. I’m no devil but I’m certainly no angel,” Jungkook sighs, wistful. “How long have you both attended to… me?”

“Since Your Highness was one and ten years of age. We are the same age as Your Highness. It has been a little over eleven years since we have served you.”

So the Jungkook in this world is twenty-two years old, two years younger than him. It’s the first discrepancy between their identities Jungkook has found so he snatches onto it and files it away.

“The physician asked what my family’s role in this empire is. Do you know what they do? Are they influential?”

“Your parents, His and Her Royal Majesties, are the king and queen of one of the seven kingdoms, the Jeon Kingdom. Your Highness was born as the second prince. The kingdoms when listed by its military power, land size, wealth, literary talent and population are ranked: the Lee Kingdom, Choi Kingdom, Park Kingdom, Jeon Kingdom, Song Kingdom, Jang Kingdom and finally, the Yoon Kingdom. The Jeon Kingdom is not the most powerful but also not the least.”

“If I’m the second prince of the Jeon Kingdom, what am I doing in the Imperial Palace? Why am I not with my own family in the Jeon Kingdom?”

“Your Highness, you are married to His Imperial Majesty, a husband of the second rank.”

“Married?” Jungkook asks, frantic and faint.

“Yes, Your Highness. You wed in spring of this year, approximately three months ago, although you spent one month unconscious.”

“But I am only… only two and twenty years of age.”

“It was Your Highness who wanted the marriage.”

“I did? Of course, I did,” Jungkook whispers as he massages his forehead. “And what’s the meaning of second rank?”

“It means the only people who are of higher rank than you are His Imperial Majesty, Kim Namjoon, and your other husbands. Their names are Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung. They are all husbands of the first rank. Husbands of the first rank have almost the same authority as the emperor and are addressed as ‘Your Majesty’.”

“How many ranks of husbands are there?”

“Five, Your Highness. Those of the first rank are called Emperors and Empresses by Marriage or just Emperor and Empress. Those of the second rank are called Imperial Consorts. Your official title when addressed is Imperial Consort Jeon. Those of the third rank are called Noble Consorts. Those of the fourth rank are called Imperial Concubines and those of the fifth rank are called Noble Concubines.”

“So how many partners does Kim Namjoon have in total?” Jungkook frowns.

“Your Highness!” Yugyeom gasps, eyes wide and tone nearly admonishing. The man pauses at his own outburst, like he’s not sure where it come from. Mingyu wears a similar expression, mouth open and glancing quickly between Jungkook and Yugyeom. “Your Highness, I- I apologise for the disrespect but you must address the emperor appropriately. I-It is great disrespect to address him by name if you have not received explicit permission. Even before your injury, you never dared to address His Imperial Majesty by name.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m not- I’m not used to the formalities yet. Please correct me as needed. I don’t want to be prosecuted for something I do not understand. How many partners does His Imperial Majesty have?”

“His Imperial Majesty only has five husbands of the first rank and one husband of the second rank,” Mingyu answers. Jungkook counts six men excluding him, the same number of men who had visited him after he had awoken. Jungkook knows it’s not a coincidence. “His Imperial Majesty has voiced his unwillingness to marry further. You…”

“Don’t hold back, please.”

“You were not supposed to marry into the palace either. I-It was not a marriage made on amiable terms.”

“I told you this?”

“You did not need to, Your Highness. Us servants always hear what may not necessarily have been intended for our ears.”

Jungkook should have realised. The answers always come from those you least expect. Mingyu and Yugyeom may just be the key to him returning to his own world.

“How did I become a husband of the second rank?”

“Typically, your rank is determined by your family and your overall status prior to marriage. If you were born during the reign of the last emperor, you may very likely have become a husband of the first rank, considering the position your father holds. However, His Imperial Majesty has not followed such customs. His five husbands of the first rank were love marriages. Your Highness was more or less a political marriage.”

“And it was not amiable because?”

“Because Your Highness w-was said to have…”

“Have?” Jungkook presses.

“Y-Your Highness was said to have orchestrated the entire exchange through improper means. When we spoke earlier about the kingdoms, Your Highness should know that after His Imperial Majesty ascended the throne, two kingdoms refused to swear fealty to him. One of them was the Jeon Kingdom.”

“Why?”

“We do not know, Your Highness. Two months ago, your parents, His and Her Royal Majesties, attended a meeting in the Imperial Palace to discuss the union of the kingdoms. Your Highness also came along out of curiosity. It was then that Your Highness f-forced His Imperial Majesty into marriage. Although the Jeon Kingdom uniting with His Imperial Majesty was beneficial for the Korean Empire, it was widely known that our emperor did not wish for a marriage without love. That is why Your Highness has never been on good terms with your husbands.”

“I can see why that would be irritating,” Jungkook sighs, pinching between his brows. “Can you tell what exact “improper means” I used?”

“Your Highness purposefully… exposed yourself to His Majesties and coordinated your parents to witness the situation. Your parents then requested for a formal marriage between Your Highness and His Imperial Majesty as your honour had been compromised. His Majesties had no choice but to accept, given the delicate relationship between the emperor and the Jeon Kingdom.”

“After word of your political marriage travelled the kingdoms, many nobles sent requests to marry their daughters and sons into the Imperial Palace. We have heard the other kingdoms are not pleased with His Imperial Majesty’s stronger alliance with the Jeon Kingdom.”

“It would make sense for them to despise me then. Not only did I force myself into their perfect relationship but the marriage also caused an uproar across the kingdoms. And I did all of it for what? Fun?”

Jungkook rubs his temples, thankful Mingyu and Yugyeom don’t respond. It’s not a wonder then that he’s so widely disliked if he has offended everyone. And like he has been told, it appears the previous Jungkook’s actions have truly caused unrest across the kingdoms. Jungkook is unsure if any action from him or his family could resolve this. Jungkook also recalls the mention of a name, Lee Jongwon. Could this man also be a part of the plan to appease the other kingdoms?

Now equipped with all this knowledge, Jungkook feels like he’s in an even more dangerous position.

He plays Mingyu’s and Yugyeom’s words over and over again, making sure he hasn’t missed anything when–

“Wait- Yugyeom-ssi, did you say, ‘His Imperial Majesty and my other husbands’ as in I’m married to… all of them?”

“That is the way His Imperial Majesty has conducted affairs thus far. It is not common for groups of more than three to wed but His Majesty has never been conventional in his ways.”

“So the- the men who visited me after I had woken up, those are the emperors?”

“That is correct, Your Highness. It is fortunate you have not met with them since then so that we can show you the proper etiquette.”

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut. He’s done much more than just meet them. Jungkook has disrespected them, berated them and condemned them, all with venom attached to his voice. He may have just unknowingly twisted the knife deeper and maybe it’s reaching a point where it can’t be retracted.

“I have met them, the emperors. Well, some of them. And I can confirm we are, indeed, not on good terms. Is there a way I can get this marriage annulled?”

“No, that is not possible, Your Highness. Not only would it be detrimental to your honour but also the entire empire.”

“I didn’t think so,” Jungkook sighs, hope deflating. “When I’d first woken up, His Majesties said the timing of my incident was very convenient. Do you happen to know what this means?”

“We… we are not sure, Your Highness. Leading up to your accident, you were frequently called upon by His Majesties but the conversations always occurred behind closed doors. You were not a fan of sharing information with us.”

If Jungkook could curse the previous prince or Imperial Consort or whatever title he had, Jungkook would. There must a reason Jungkook’s been brought to this world and if he figures that out, then perhaps he’ll also uncover the way home. The answers appear to lie in the discussions Jungkook had with the emperors prior to his accident.

Jungkook tries to piece together all the information and clues he’s gathered. His forced marriage to the emperor caused unrest across the kingdoms. Jungkook and his parents play a key role in the resolution. Whatever the previous Jungkook had not been involved in before his fall must be what Jungkook needs to complete.

He needs to emperors to either disclose the plans or agree to his involvement but with so much bad blood between them, Jungkook will have to work hard to earn their trust. Perhaps if he can convince the emperors that he truly lost his memory, they will let bygones be bygones.

Jungkook sighs at the challenges ahead of him. He doesn’t know what it is about the men that just riles him up. His mouth snaps at them faster than his brain can to prohibit the rash words. His only lifeline is his royalty status. The emperors won’t kill him, not yet at least when they clearly need him to fix the nation, no pressure.

“What are His Majesties like? Are they kind? Forgiving?”

“His Majesties are most intelligent, generous, assertive, tolerant, refined, confident and charming.”

The answer sounds rehearsed but Jungkook cannot fault Yugyeom for his caution. To him, Jungkook could wake up the following day and recall all the memories he has ‘lost’.

“What do I have to do to get them to like me?”

“We… we do not know, Your Highness.”

“Before my injury, how did I spend my time?”

“Your Highness frequently followed His Majesties around and sought for their attention.”

“How did they react? Were they annoyed? Did they ignore me?”

“I-It is not our place to comment on His Majesties’ feelings but they always treated Your Highness with respect when in the public eye.”

“And in private?”

Mingyu and Yugyeom press their lips together and lower their heads further down so Jungkook cannot view their expressions.

“You can truthful. I already have an idea of how much they dislike me, judging by the way they spoke to me when I first woke up,” Jungkook winces.

“In private, His Majesties were… more… forthcoming with their… displeasure.”

“They hate me.”

“They do not hate you, Your Highness.”

“I could practically taste their hatred on my tongue when we spoke. I’m doomed.”

Jungkook groans, sliding down his seat until his lower body hangs off just above the carpet. Mingyu’s and Yugyeom’s face are coloured with confusion and a tinge of amusement when they take in Jungkook’s unseemly position.

“Your Highness,” Mingyu smiles uncertainly. It’s the first time Jungkook has witnessed such an expression on the man’s face. “You may hurt yourself. It is not proper for you to sit as you are.”

“So be it,” Jungkook laments. He feels successful when his dramatics evoke a smile from Yugyeom as well. “I am bound to get myself into trouble without my memories. Someone’s going to execute me by the end of summer and my beautiful body is going to be fed to the worms.”

“Your Highness, no one will execute you,” Yugyeom reassures. Jungkook sees the subdued chuckle in the twitches of the man’s facial muscles.

“You should’ve seen His Majesties last time. I was this close.”

“If Your Highness is concerned, Yugyeom and I can help explain the appropriate decorum and manners expected around the palace.”

“Would you?” Jungkook asks. His eyes sparkle, hoping that, perhaps, this conversation has bridged the fear they carried.

“Certainly, Your Highness. It is our duty to care for you,” Mingyu responds. Jungkook pushes himself up from his awkward position and crosses the room to stand before his friends. It’s a win when neither flinch.

“Mingyu-yah, Yugyeom-ah, can I consider you my friends?”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“Then no more ‘Your Highness’ this, ‘Your Highness’ that. Please just call me Jungkook when we’re in private. I will beg you.”

“Y-Your Highness, no,” Mingyu refuses and Jungkook falls immediately to his knees.

“Your Highness, please get up. This is not- this is not appropriate.”

“Your Highness, if someone were to see you like this and misunderstand, we will be severely punished.”

“Jungkook-ssi, please,” Yugyeom pleads but Jungkook remains on the floor. His servant looks equally aghast and confused why calling his name had not worked until it clicks. “Jungkook-… ah?”

He springs back up with a successful and almost mischievous grin. Mingyu and Yugyeom maintain their hold on each of his arms from where they had attempted to physically bring him up. Jungkook tries to not make any large movements that might draw their attention down.

“It’s been so long since I’ve heard someone say my name without resentment.”

“You are…,” Mingyu starts before pausing to return Jungkook’s smile with a resigned one of his own, “So different, Jungkook-ah.”

“That must be because I’m not the same Jungkook.”

Yugyeom digs his fingers into his temples. The action is so alike the Yugyeom Jungkook has been friends with since primary school that it makes his heart soften.

“This Jungkook may just be more of a menace,” Yugyeom jokes carefully. He glances at Jungkook, gauging his reaction. It’s completely genuine when Jungkook laughs, nose scrunching and body falling forward. His newfound friends finally relax, quiet chuckles escaping their own mouths.

For the first time since waking, Jungkook experiences happiness and hope.

ⴵ

“Not like that, Jungkook-ah. You must bow like this,” Mingyu corrects as he demonstrates for the hundredth time.

Jungkook groans, stretching out the cracks in his back. His friends have been teaching him proper etiquette for the better of the morning yet everything is still at the wrong angle or the wrong hand is on top or the wrong words are used.

“I can’t,” Jungkook whines and tumbles onto the carpet, spreading his limbs out like a starfish. “I mean – I cannot. I cannot do anything right.”

His friends share a look before joining him on the floor. Unlike Jungkook’s uncouth position, they settle themselves onto their knees and peer down at his frowning pout.

“That is because you are trying to relearn twenty years of manners in one day. You have to pace yourself, Jungkook-ah. We are sure you will be most capable soon.”

“You’re just being nice. I know this must be super frustrating for you both. It’s- it is like teaching a five-year-old kid how to use a bow and arrow.”

“But that is generally the age children from noble and hunting families begin learning the ways of archery.”

“Of course it is,” Jungkook mutters, rubbing his eyes. It’s barely the afternoon but fatigue already crawls from his mind to his body, tying him to the floor. Jungkook could lie here in the middle of the sitting room with the sun caressing him but falling asleep wouldn’t get him any closer to home. With his mind set, Jungkook propels himself up and stares at his friends with renewed determination. He doesn’t expect the way Mingyu and Yugyeom startle backwards, eyes comically wide.

“J-Jungkook-ah?”

“Let’s go for a walk. You said you would show me around the palace.”

“That was terrifying, Jungkook-ah,” Yugyeom sighs, patting his own chest in a self-soothing gesture. “We thought…”

“Thought what?”

“Your gaze… it reminded us of how you were previously. We thought the memories had returned.”

An ache clenches Jungkook’s heart in an unforgiving grip while fear fades from his friends’ postures. If Jungkook were to return home, it would mean the Mingyu and Yugyeom in this world would be subjected to cruelty again. Jungkook couldn’t stay for them but he also couldn’t possibly leave them here.

Silently, Jungkook makes another resolution to himself. He must send Mingyu and Yugyeom away from the palace, away from the previous Jungkook before he leaves.

“I’m sorry for scaring you. I just want to clear my head if that is okay.”

“It certainly is but let us fetch you a fan first. The sun is at its peak at this hour so the heat will be strong.”

“That’ll be great. Thank you, Mingyu-yah.”

Jungkook exits Gyotaejeon Hall with Mingyu and Yugyeom one step behind him and an entourage further behind. He lets his friends direct him, starting from the centre gate that leads out of the palace. Having been restricted to escaping from the back of his hall, Jungkook realises he’s only explored the grounds deep within the palace. He immediately begins cataloguing the names attached to the numerous buildings.

The Outer Court consists of Geunjeongjeon Hall, otherwise known as the throne hall where the emperor conducts state affairs and holds official functions, Sajeongjeon Hall, the emperor’s office, Sujeongjeon Hall, the official cabinet, Cheonchujeon Hall, a council hall to accommodate guests, messenger and censor, and Manchunjeon Hall, the emperor’s secondary office. Other small buildings hold the dispensary and home of medical officers and additional places for civil and military officials.

“His Majesties attend to the morning court in Geunjeongjeon Hall daily.”

“Did I previously attend them?”

“No, Your Highness is not required for the court, however…”

“Please continue.”

“Prior to Your Highness’ injury, you often intruded and… demanded to be a part of the meeting.”

“Wonderful,” Jungkook groans. “Did I follow His Imperial Majesty to his other duties as well?”

“Yes. Aside from mealtimes, Your Highness always sought out His Imperial Majesty.”

“Terrific.”

Jungkook wishes he can facepalm himself but there are too many servants that gawk at him whenever they catch sight of him. Trying to look busy, Jungkook quickens his pace and moves back towards the Inner Court.

He stops abruptly when glistening waters that heavily reflect the sunlight blind him. Lying on his left, a bridge crawls across a pond towards an island where a large two-story building stands. Its roof is lined with grey tiles that sharpen at the corners. Red railings circle the upper level and follow down the stairs to the lower level.

Jungkook’s heart pounds rapidly without his permission. He has an inkling of what this place is but he needs the confirmation.

“What is the pavilion called?” A few seconds of silence answer him before Yugyeom sighs.

“That is Gyeonghoeru Pavilion, Your Highness.”

“Where I’d fallen.”

Jungkook wonders if his blood still decorates the ground like one of the emperors had advised.

“Sh-Shall we continue on, Your Highness?” Yugyeom asks. When Jungkook glances back, he takes in the sympathy in his friends’ eyes. Mingyu and Yugyeom must have mistaken his silence for unease. Jungkook lets himself be redirected, knowing he needs time and space to investigate without so many eyes on him.

“Is this considered the Inner Court?”

“Yes, Your Highness. Gyotaejeon Hall, where we reside, is built back-to-back with Gangnyeongjeon Hall,” Mingyu explains. They halt a distance away from the courtyard where guards heavily surround the entrance.

“Gangnyeongjeon Hall is His Imperial Majesty’s residence. The hall was reconstructed to accommodate His Majesties as well,” Yugyeom adds.

“Gyotaejeon Hall typically homes partners of the first rank. We are fortunate His Imperial Majesty has allowed us to reside there.”

“How fortunate,” Jungkook mutters. His eyes quickly move away from the entrance, where the guards have noticed their presence. Not wanting to collide with the emperors when he hasn’t prepared a plan, Jungkook hastily waves a hand to his servants. “Let’s move on.”

They bypass Amisan Garden, which Jungkook had used as a landmark to position himself and find his way home during his searches. It’s the only place in the palace where bright summer bloom colours the otherwise green landscape.

Mingyu and Yugyeom point out Jagyeongjeon Hall, the late Empress Dowager’s living quarters, Jipgyeongdang and Hamhwadang Hall, where partners rank two through to five typically reside, Taewonjeon Shrine and Jibokjae Hall, the book depository before finally beginning their long journey back to Gyotaejeon Hall.

Jungkook commits everything to memory.

Feeling as though his mission is a success, Jungkook finally slows himself down, enjoying the light summer breeze that brushes through the grass. Even with the sun at its peak, he feels a sense of calm wash away the stress that he’s carried during the past three weeks.

A pond, similar to the one surrounding Gyeonghoeru Pavilion, comes into view and Jungkook realises they’ve reached the pavilion he’d found on his second day of searching. It’s about half the size of Gyeonghoeru Pavilion with a hexagonal building standing proud in the centre.

“That is Hyangwonjeong Pavilion.”

“Are we allowed to enter? I want to take a break.”

“Certainly, Your Highness. Chuihyanggyo Bridge around the other side will allow us to access the pavilion.”

He follows Mingyu’s guiding arm past the line of trees until the bridge is no longer obstructed from his sight. Jungkook screeches to a stop when he detects multiple guards standing on the pathway, across the bridge and up to Hyangwonjeong Pavilion. There hadn’t been this many guards several weeks ago.

Confused, Jungkook takes cautious steps forward only for the guards to bow deeply upon noticing him. A resounding “Your Highness” echoes across the otherwise peaceful scenery, causing ripples to form along the water. Jungkook counts himself fortunate when his flinch doesn’t cause him to lose his footing and fall into the water. He glances back at his friends, finding them nodding at him to accept the greeting.

“Y-You may rise?”

The guards immediately return to their positions and Jungkook lets out a breath of relief, continuing towards the bridge. His hands rest against the wooden railing that supports him when he bends over to peer at the pond.

“Mingyu-yah, Yugyeom-ah, look! They’re so pretty,” Jungkook exclaims, pointing at the school of koi carp gleaming near the surface of the water. His voice turns quiet, pouty, as he asks, “Are you guys hungry?”

“The carp are regularly fed by the garden keepers, Your Highness,” Mingyu reassures though there’s amusement in his words.

“That’s good. You guys need to eat lots to grow up.”

“Your Highness, shall we continue to the pavilion?”

“Yes, let us go.”

Jungkook pushes away from the railing and rushes down the bridge, eager to rest. He completely forgets the appropriate pace of walking until Yugyeom nudges him. With a wince, Jungkook instantly slows himself back down to promenade instead of race. Stepping foot onto the concrete path circling the pavilion, Jungkook accepts the greeting from the last pair of guards before letting the false composure drop.

There are only the two sets of stairs left before he reaches the pavilion but with how exhausted Jungkook is from his journey around the palace, the climb is arduous. When he finally makes it to the top, he expects relief to come, only the spectacle in front of him steals his attention. Despite the heat, Jungkook freezes, a chill skittering up his spine.

It’s not the meticulously crafted phoenix tiles with green backgrounds and red borders on the ceiling or the intriguing architecture that shapes the room into a hexagon that renders Jungkook speechless. It’s the sight in the middle of the room, on the plain brown floorboards, that does.

The green framed doors of the pavilion are opened to give Jungkook a view of six familiar men occupying the space. They sit on cushions and converse with smiles that look much more befitting on their faces than the scowls Jungkook has seen. Teacups and plates with an assortment of desserts spread across the table but the men are more engaged in talking with each other.

Jungkook’s eyes widen at the same time as his mouth and the next second, he pivots sharply to face the direction they’d just come from. Mingyu and Yugyeom are equally shocked, except their feelings are directed at his odd behaviour rather than the emperors’ presence.

“Your Highness?”

“We need to go. Now.”

Jungkook turns both of his friends by their shoulders, directing them back towards the bridge. Their frantic movements must draw unwanted attention because Jungkook doesn’t get to take more than a step down before a sharp voice filters through the air.

“Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook stumbles to a stop, his hands still pressed to his friend’s back when he lowers his head to grimace at the floor. Mingyu and Yugyeom immediately whip around and fall into ninety-degree bows.

“Your Majesties.”

“Please rise,” a man allows.

Jungkook exhales heavily before forcing his body to turn towards the emperors. Just like a few minutes ago, Jungkook forgets about proper etiquette the moment he’s faced with their stony expressions. He doesn’t bow but instead, plasters a guarded look onto his face as he waits for the emperors to explain why they had spoiled his plan to escape.

“What are your intentions of lurking outside the pavilion?”

The person that speaks is the same dimple-wearing man from the first day. Jungkook deduces that this must be emperor, Kim Namjoon, based on the golden embroidery on his hanbok, the extravagant accessories sparkling in his hair and his position at the head of the table.

“I wasn’t lurking. I was just looking at the fish.”

“The fish,” Namjoon repeats drily.

“Yes, they’re very pretty. I’ve finished looking at them now. We’ll get going.”

“Stop. You are not dismissed, Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook has already turned his back on the emperors so when he clenches his teeth, the action goes unnoticed. Yugyeom’s hands are waving for him to turn around and address the emperor. It takes everything for Jungkook to swallow his discomfort, steel himself and spin on his heels. His chin lifts, unafraid, as he peers at the man who commands the empire.

“Join us.”

Jungkook’s head swivels between his friends, a frown slowly marring his expression. If they were at odds, then the emperors should have no reason to request for his presence during their leisure time. Mingyu gives him desperate nod, the action persuading Jungkook to obey. If only Mingyu had been present both times he’d spoken to these men, Jungkook thinks. He’s sure his friend would’ve had a heart attack.

Warily, Jungkook casts a look at the guards nearby who are pretending to not pay attention and decides it would be best to not cause a scene. Treading forward, his steps are tentative until his refusal to take his eyes off the emperors makes him trip over the raised threshold. Yugyeom’s hands wrap around his bicep, helping him stabilise.

“Your Highness, please be careful.”

“I’m okay,” Jungkook whispers back, addressing the double meaning in Yugyeom’s words.

After Jungkook safely enters, Mingyu and Yugyeom retreat, leaving Jungkook to fend for himself amongst the wolves. Namjoon nods at the empty space on one side of table where only two men sit. A servant wordlessly comes in, covering the floor with a cushion and providing Jungkook with a set of utensils. When Jungkook doesn’t make to sit, Namjoon’s impatient eyes find his. It’s accompanied by a second stern nod at the seat.

“Would you like another invitation?”

Knowing the cause of Namjoon’s demeanour, Jungkook breathes deeply to assuage the irritation that immediately flares in response to the emperor’s snappy tone. It’s not exactly his fault they’re all suffering this situation but Jungkook does feel apologetic for wearing a face that serves as a constant reminder of what the real Jungkook has done.

He lowers himself onto the cushion, making sure to subtly slide it away from the man beside him. Jungkook watches as the soft features gradually harden, the man’s lips pursing and eyes growing into what Jungkook can only describe as murderous. It makes Jungkook lean further away.

One of the men from the library, the only one who has asked him an open question, sits to the left of Namjoon. The other more untrusting man sits just diagonally from him, ignoring his presence altogether as he lifts a teacup and sips with poise.

Peering around, Jungkook analyses the people around them. Several guards circle the pavilion with their backs turned and what appears to be the emperors’ personal attendants stand close by too. Mingyu and Yugyeom have positioned themselves by the bridge, too far away to help Jungkook.

“They can see us but will not be able to hear our conversation,” Namjoon says, following his gaze. Cautious to keep his face neutral, Jungkook faces the emperor.

“Why am I here?”

“You do not wish to be here?”

“I think you don’t wish for me to be here,” Jungkook says. Namjoon neither agrees nor disagrees.

“What would the guards think if you perform a disappearing act upon seeing us?”

“I wasn’t running away. I was just leaving after admiring the fish.”

The man sitting directly across the table snorts. Jungkook recognises him as the emperor who had hidden in the shadows of his bed chamber, like a grim reaper waiting for the most opportune moment to unveil himself. Jungkook makes an effort to lower his glare to the tableware instead.

“Your acting is improving. I nearly believed you cared for the fish.”

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek hard enough that he almost draws blood. It’s a perfect distraction that helps him ignore the man’s jibe.

“I heard you had an interesting encounter with Seokjin-hyung and Taehyung in the book depository.”

“You can call it that,” Jungkook snuffs. He slides his finger along the edge of the green ceramic plate but makes no attempts at reaching for food. Jungkook knows this is all just an act to show the guards and servants that the emperor and his husbands are not at odds with each other. Namjoon clears his throat, seeming miffed by Jungkook’s snide response.

“Would you care to explain why you accused Seokjin-hyung of pushing you down the stairs?”

“I would not.”

“That was not an optional question.”

“Why should I answer your question if all you’ll do is call me a liar?”

“You do not have the right to question our judgement. I ask a question and you answer. Besides, you know better than anyone here why it is we hold such reservations towards your words.”

Jungkook grits his teeth but he doesn’t know if he’s more annoyed at the emperor or the previous Jungkook for having such infamy. Snapping his head up, Jungkook levels Seokjin with a hard stare that’s only a twitch short from a glare.

“I was irritated by your harsh words and said so out of spite. I do not think you pushed me,” Jungkook says. He watches Seokjin’s lips press together before the man turns back to his tea, dismissive of Jungkook’s excuse. Nettled, Jungkook shifts back to Namjoon and tacks on a snide, “Happy?”

“I suppose that is the closest we will get to an apology.”

“Unless I receive an apology, don’t expect one from me.”

“Apologies are expensive words. They are not for those who do not deserve it,” Seokjin responds without bothering to look at Jungkook.

“You’re right,” Jungkook snaps. “I guess the only person I owe an apology to is myself for putting up with your lack of respect.”

Jungkook makes to get up but from the shadows, a hand shoots out and wraps firmly around his wrist. The grip doesn’t hurt but Jungkook still winces when he’s pinned suddenly to the table. His body has twisted with the motion, leaning unwillingly into the man on his right. Jungkook sends him a glare that bears an equal mix of shock and aggravation.

“You are not dismissed yet,” the man says. Jungkook’s fingernails claw into the wooden table but he’s unsuccessful in wriggling out of the man’s unwavering hold. It’s more irritating when the man simply raises his other hand and continues eating a piece of yakgwa.

“Jimin-ah, others are watching,” Namjoon murmurs and even though the emperor hadn’t been addressing him, Jungkook freezes.

The man, Jimin, takes a deliberately slow bite of his cookie before finally releasing Jungkook. Reddened skin decorates his wrist like a bracelet and he cradles it against his chest. Wary of the man, Jungkook slides further away from Jimin until he’s sitting past the end of the table. The man hasn’t spared Jungkook a single glance since he’d joined them in a blatant act of disrespect.

“What else do you want from me? I answered your question,” Jungkook snaps.

“Taehyung has a question.”

“What?” he asks shortly as he turns his attention to Taehyung. If the man is annoyed by his insolence, it doesn’t show on his face. In fact, his expression is completely unreadable.

“You do not think it was Seokjin-hyung who pushed you but you do believe you were pushed?”

Jungkook’s gaze flickers to Namjoon and he presses his lips together, knowing the severity of his words if he were to accuse someone, especially with his status. And truthfully, Jungkook isn’t entirely sure the footsteps he heard had come from this world when the sound was mixed with a crowd of others speaking, yelling, whispering. It could’ve been another desperate soul running for the train, oblivious to the tragedy that has occurred. It could’ve also been just a figment of his imagination for all Jungkook knows.

These emperors are examining each of his words to find faults and Jungkook doesn’t want to give them an opening. Even if the royal was pushed, these men might only see it as a solution. Jungkook’s death will permanently sever the link between the Jeon Kingdom and the imperial family after all.

Jungkook doesn’t trust the emperors to act in his best interest so he does his best to cover himself.

“I don’t remember.”

“You cannot hide behind that excuse forever,” Jimin snaps.

“Would you prefer I lied instead? Would you prefer I go around pointing fingers at anyone I dislike?”

Jimin bristles and finally shifts his body to face Jungkook. The man’s eyes are shaped into narrow slits that do nothing to conceal his livid hatred. Jungkook hopes his own glare holds strong even when his hands grow clammy beneath the table.

“Make another false accusation if you think you can bear the consequences. We have been too forgiving for all your wrongdoings.”

“‘Forgiving’,” Jungkook scoffs. Jimin could be telling the truth, the emperors could have indeed excused the previous Jungkook for a lot of misdeeds but the six men who sit in front of him appear far from the forgiving, benevolent emperors they claim to be. And they irritate him.

“Roll your eyes further back and perhaps you will find a brain there.”

“Maybe I’ll roll it back far enough to examine the damage done since your physicians are so incompetent, they cannot cure my memory loss.”

“Do not blame our physicians for not being able to cure a non-existent illness.”

“Just because it’s invisible doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. You have chosen to ignore the truth because it would be more beneficial for me to have retained my memory. You have chosen to disbelieve me on the sole basis that the timing of my accident was too convenient but what exactly am I gaining out of this? I certainly haven’t won your favour with this supposed act and the nation hasn’t settled in the month I’ve been unconscious like you mentioned.”

“Do not take us for fools,” Namjoon cuts in. “You need not say your intentions for us to know that this exact situation is what you wanted, Jungkook-ssi. You play a pivotal role for us to reach our objective so the longer this is prolonged, the longer you will maintain your sense of self-importance.”

“Then just let me return to my duties!” Jungkook insists. His volume has increased with his frustration and only now, when Namjoon’s eyes darken, does Jungkook become wary of the guards and servants listening in. The emperor leans forward with his hands braced on the table.

“It is one thing to disrespect me in private but it is entirely another to do so in public. Know your place,” the emperor asserts, voice low.

Jungkook draws his bottom lip between his teeth, knowing he crossed a line. He needs to take a step back if he wishes to move forward with his mission. With drawn-out breaths, Jungkook waits until his lungs are full and his heart slows to a regular rhythm. Namjoon, seeming satisfied by Jungkook’s silence, also relaxes onto his cushion.

The next time Jungkook’s eyes find Namjoon’s, neither betrays hints of anger yet hostility still pervades the distance between them.

“I didn’t mean to raise my voice but I said this in the book depository and I will say so again. The sooner we get this over with, the better it will be for all of us.”

“Seokjin-hyung and Taehyung informed us of your thoughts. If your memories have not ‘returned’, how do you suppose you complete your duties then?”

“Is it not possible for you to just tell me what to do and say?”

“And you will just listen?” someone asks calmly. Sitting on Namjoon’s right side is the sixth emperor, someone who has only been a spectator in all their interactions. Until now. Jungkook hadn’t noticed him before but now, he can’t divert his eyes. The man appears relaxed as he stares down past the perfect bridge of his nose to Jungkook.

“I think the one thing we’re all in agreement on is not wanting to see each other’s faces. If I don’t have to be subjected to your antagonism after you reach your objective, then you can sign me up.”

“Even if our plans are successful, your presence will still be required at formal events and ceremonies. We will still have to see each other.”

“Then we bite our cheeks and tolerate one another when we are under watchful eyes. We’re all capable of pretending everything is fine. No one needs to know how much we hate each other behind closed doors.”

The men’s identical frowns deepen the more Jungkook shares his improvised but brilliant plan. Incredulity and apprehension are the main perpetrators in their heavy glares as they ponder his words.

Jungkook needs them to be convinced. Jungkook needs to be right about this. The previous Jungkook preferring to watch the empire suffer must be the reason Jungkook has been brought to this world.

“How can we trust you, Jeon Jungkook? How will we know that you will not take advantage of this situation?” Namjoon questions.

“Because, believe me, as hard as that may be, I don’t want to see this empire in a state of instability as much as you don’t. If I’m able to resolve this with the added benefit of not seeing your stormy faces more than needed, I will happily do whatever you require me to.”

The intensity of Namjoon’s stare is enough to bring down several kingdoms but Jungkook doesn’t falter. The others silently watch the emperor drum his fingers against the table, the cogs in his brain turning. Something must change in Namjoon’s expression, the tick in his jaw, the imperceivable hardening of his eyes, because without discussion, agreement passes between the men.

“Your parents are arriving tomorrow.”

“What? What does that have to–”

“King Jeon Youngdae and Queen Jeon Miseon have expressed great displeasure about our treatment of you as they believe we are at fault for your accident. We require your parents’ support to maintain balance of the empire. Tomorrow, you will reassure them that we have been nothing short of gracious and convince them that the accident was completely your own fault. Are you capable of doing this?”

“You would like me to hide my memory loss?”

“Will that be possible? If you have truly lost your memory, your parents will undoubtedly be able to detect it.”

“I can do it. There’s a lot resting on this after all,” Jungkook comments. His parents need to believe him if their help is required to restore stability to the empire and Jungkook needs to complete what the other Jungkook hadn’t so he can return home.

“Very well. We will be there to monitor you so I implore you to carefully consider what you would like to disclose to your parents.”

“You would also like to conceal our animosity.” Brief surprise dances across Namjoon’s eyebrows, the expression mirrored by the other men. It’s the confirmation Jungkook needs.

“Although your parents are aware that our marriage was forced, we do not need them worrying about your safety and happiness within the Imperial Palace. The reality of our marriage will remain between us. Tomorrow, we will all smile with you and pretend to have an amiable relationship. It will do you well to keep perspective and remember it is an act on our parts.”

“It’s unlikely I’ll misunderstand or forget your intentions. You should worry more about yourselves. I’m not sure your act will be convincing when all of you are incapable of smiling.”

“That is because we have no reason to show you our genuine smiles. We have had years of practice of managing what emotions we display in the presence of others. Tomorrow will be no different. I ensure you King and Queen Jeon will be none the wiser about our sincerity.”

“Charming,” Jungkook mutters quietly.

“Although they cannot read our feelings, we will still have to be cautious to not underestimate them. With your parents’ shrewdness, they may detect our ulterior motive if we dive directly into discussions of political affairs. We need them to believe we are currently prioritising your recovery.”

“They’d surely notice if I lie.”

“Then lie by omission. No, you have not attended to any duties since your injury. Yes, you have been provided with adequate medical attention. No, you are not in any pain.”

“You have really thought this through,” Jungkook frowns. “What would you have done if I wasn’t planning to cooperate?”

“That is not something you need to be privy to. After your… success, we can further discuss your contributions.”

“I look forward to our discussion,” Jungkook says, aware his ease increases the emperors’ apprehension.

“We will meet in Sajeongjeon Hall after the morning court concludes tomorrow. Shall we expect your presence at Geunjeongjeon Hall too?”

“Not unless you command me to attend. I prefer my sleep.”

“You are dismissed then. Do not rise late tomorrow.”

“What? No longer afraid my leaving will cause the servants to think we’re in disagreement?”

“It was you who previously stated that you have finished admiring the ‘fish’. It seems you have also finished with your refreshments,” Namjoon notes, raising an eyebrow at Jungkook’s untouched plate. “There is no other reason for you to remain. You may leave now.”

“As you wish,” Jungkook huffs.

Pushing himself up to his feet, Jungkook provokes the emperors one last time by brushing the invisible dust on his hanbok into the food. Aside from the hardening of their eyes, none of the emperors open their mouths.

“Enjoy your afternoon, Your Majesties,” Jungkook snarks before gracefully walking out.

ⴵ

Chapter Text

“Your Highness, please watch your step,” Yugyeom pleads to Jungkook who stomps back to Gyotaejeon Hall. The action is unbecoming of an Imperial Consort but Jungkook has too many worries chittering in his mind to care.

Jungkook slows down when the paths become uneven, only to placate his friends, but as soon as his residence comes into view, Jungkook scrambles up the stairs and plops himself down on a cushion in the sitting room. The inside third of the room boasts a wide raised platform with a seated area that accommodates guests and the remaining two thirds is covered by the rug Jungkook had his etiquette lesson on.

Mingyu and Yugyeom enter a few minutes later with several snacks and a pot of tea. Hesitantly, they set the trays down before standing back at the entrance of the room.

“Don’t be scared of me, please,” Jungkook murmurs. “You can sit down.”

It’s typically disrespectful for servants to share the living spaces of the people they serve but Jungkook has emphasised from the first day of their friendship that he doesn’t care for such protocol. It has taken significant convincing for Mingyu and Yugyeom to join him in the sitting room as well as during meals.

His friends carefully shuffle forward and lower themselves onto the two cushions closest to Jungkook.

“Are you alright?” Mingyu asks.

“No… you’re wrong. His Majesties are not kind.”

“It did seem quite tense between you. You did not even touch the gangjeong. His Imperial Majesty’s cooks produce the best gangjeong in the palace.”

“I don’t think they would’ve been happy if I ate their foods.”

“Please have something now then, Jungkook-ah. You did not have lunch and it is already the hour of the monkey. There are still at least two hours until dinner,” Yugyeom informs as he piles some biscuits onto a plate.

Jungkook recalls from his reading that the time in this world is referred to by the zodiac animals. It takes Jungkook a prolonged time to convert it. Hour of the monkey, two hours until dinner, Jungkook guesses it’s around four in the afternoon. His stomach growls on cue to Yugyeom’s reminder and Jungkook carelessly throws a biscuit in his mouth. 

“You told me that His Majesties are generous and intelligent but they think my memory loss is just a ploy to gain sympathy. I don’t want their sympathy, I only want to be treated with respect.”

“Jungkook-ah, a royal does not chew with their mouth full,” Mingyu reminds gently. Jungkook swallows with considerable force just to show his friend he’s obeying.

“His Majesties said that I think they’re fools but are they not, for not believing me? There’s no reason for any person to throw themselves down a flight or two of stairs. And for what reason would I possibly have for remaining adamant about my memory loss if it weren’t true? You two have noticed that I’ve changed after my injury so why can’t they?”

“It may likely be because you have not spent significant time alone with His Majesties as you have with us, Jungkook-ah. Prior to your injury, much of the time that you spent with His Majesties was in silence or in front of audiences. Perhaps His Majesties require some more time to confirm what they find difficult to believe. I am certain change will come if you can show them patience.”

“You’re right, Mingyu-yah, it’s still early and I’ve only spent a little time with His Majesties since waking. At least they have agreed for me to be involved with their plans, even if it is under their strict and scrutinising eyes.”

“And at least His Majesties did not order your execution,” Yugyeom adds helpfully. Jungkook’s pout deepens at his friend’s teasing.

“Whose side are you on?”

“Yours, of course.”

“Then you’ll have to help me combat my parents tomorrow.”

“Your parents will be arriving tomorrow?”

“Yes and I cannot reveal my memory loss to them. Is there anything in particular I should be careful not to do or say?” Jungkook asks, looking up from the food to meet Mingyu’s and Yugyeom’s horrified expressions. “Why’re you looking at me like that? Will my memory loss be that obvious to them?”

“If you speak like this in front of them, most definitely, Jungkook-ah. Even though you did not spend significant time with His and Her Royal Majesties, your conduct and speech are so vastly different compared to before your injury. You are also much more gentle with your words.”

“Why did they not spend a lot of time with me?”

“His and Her Royal Majesties were quite absent during your upbringing due to their responsibility managing the Jeon Kingdom. As the rightful heir to the throne, your brother, His Royal Highness, received all the attention from your parents. He attended regular education on governing a kingdom from an early age. You did not meet him regularly and from what we observed, you appeared to interact like acquaintances.”

“So apart from my speech and how I hold myself, my parents won’t be able to decipher that my personality has changed?”

“That is correct. If you must deceive His and Her Royal Majesties, Jungkook-ah, you will need to demonstrate decorum fit for a royal who has been brought up with it.”

“That will be challenging,” Jungkook frowns but the barrier seems accomplishable. With determination, Jungkook straightens his posture and places his hands atop each other on his lap. “We need- we must practice henceforth. Correct me as soon as a mistake is made.”

“That was very well spoken. We will do our best to help you prepare, Jungkook-ah.”

“Please tell me about my parents’ characters. His Majesties mentioned that my parents are concerned for my wellbeing in the Imperial Palace. What should I expect?” 

“His Royal Majesty is known to be stern and strict when acting as the emperor but even more so when acting as a father. He is unforgiving of mistakes and critical of those who are not honest. His Royal Majesty often remains silent, not because he is meek, but because he can easily command the room with his silence. You will understand tomorrow that it is more unnerving when he does not speak,” Yugyeom explains.

“Her Royal Majesty is usually soft-hearted but can be even more cruel than your father to foes. She carries herself with graceful elegance and is revered across the lands for her literary talent. Although His and Her Royal Majesties are renowned for the stringent manner they rule, their leniency towards you and your actions is not a secret. Her Royal Majesty, in particular, will… satisfy your every whim,” Mingyu says.

“Mingyu and I suspect it may be due to their guilt for being absent during your upbringing. Your parents did not approve of your marriage to His Majesties but allowed you to proceed with your wishes, nevertheless. It was not that your actions left them with no options. With how little people knew of the incident, His and Her Royal Majesties could have easily concealed the truth but His Royal Highness was insistent on the marriage. It is the sole reason the Jeon Kingdom swore fealty to His Imperial Majesty.”

Jungkook frowns at the information. The previous prince acts as the delicate thread that links the Jeon Kingdom to the rest of the empire. If his fall had truly been an assassination attempt, his death would have easily severed the alliance. It seems unlikely the emperors or his family are culpable but not completely impossible. For all Jungkook knows, the emperors may not have wanted to rely on the prince being the unreliable bridge.

“Do you recall the reason why my parents did not pledge allegiance to His Imperial Majesty? Was there something they disagreed with?”

“We do not know. We do not believe that you were aware either, otherwise you probably would not have orchestrated such an elaborate plan to marry the very men His and Her Royal Majesties objected.”

“It does not appear as though His Majesties and my parents have a congenial relationship. Is it accurate for me to assume that the meeting tomorrow will be tense?”

“Most certainly, Jungkook-ah. There was hardly a genuine smile at your wedding.”

“That is not a surprise. Aside from the previous prince, no other person agreed with the marriage. How should I behave tomorrow? Was the previous prince outspoken before his parents?”

“His Royal Highness was fearful of his father due to his history of handing out punishments when the previous prince misspoke. Even though His Royal Highness received several beatings as a child, it did not discourage him. In front his parents, the prince was not brazen like usual but he also did not remain silent. You could say he walked a fine line between eloquence and outrageousness.”

“That will not be easy to imitate.”

“You must also know that in the months following His Royal Highness’ marriage, he became emboldened with his newfound status. You will have to maintain this conduct and speech with the addition of mordacity and resentment.”

“Wonderful.”

“That was a perfect example, Jungkook-ah,” Mingyu smiles encouragingly.

Jungkook groans, dropping the act and cradling his head in his hands. Yugyeom pushes the trays aside as he shuffles closer.

“Why must His and Her Royal Majesties not know of your memory loss? Will it not be easier to be truthful?”

“As you have mentioned, they already disagree with my marriage and possibly His Imperial Majesty’s actions. If they believe that the emperors are mistreating me and have caused me to suffer, I am concerned about what they may do. I do not wish to see the empire in a state of disorder due to my actions.”

Jungkook praises himself silently for his quick response. Although most of it is true, he would’ve never thought to hide his memory loss if it weren’t for Namjoon’s reminder. Or threat.

And Jungkook has an ulterior motive for all of this. He isn’t helping restore balance to the empire out of the goodness of his heart. Something akin to doubt and guilt invades him. Jungkook’s return home seems trivial compared to reigning over an empire but it’s all that matters to him. It feels selfish. It feels like he’s no different to the previous prince they’d described. Maybe the emperors’ hatred towards him isn’t totally unjustified.

He meets Mingyu’s and Yugyeom’s eyes and feels responsibility and reality weigh on him. Jungkook doesn’t only have his own life on his hands anymore.

Jungkook wonders if the panic is evident on his face for sympathetic admiration to appear on his servants’ faces.

“You are very kind, Jungkook-ah.”

The twisting in Jungkook’s heart strangles him and his eyes fall to the floor once more. He doesn’t feel very kind in this moment.

The emperors may have an ulterior motive behind their actions, behind their intentions towards Jungkook, but they’re honest about it. Jungkook isn’t. While the emperors act in consideration of the wellbeing of their nation, Jungkook only cares about his own. All this time, it’s felt like the world will no longer be his problem if he just finds a way out but attachments have grown.

It’s getting hard to separate himself.

Jungkook’s silent for the most part for the remainder of the night. Mingyu and Yugyeom understand his need for space and don’t interrupt his thoughts.

Falling asleep is difficult and Jungkook turns onto his left, then his right, then his left again. The blanket is too warm but without it, it’s too cold. The pillow feels like a rock no matter how much Jungkook adjusts it. His night is plagued by visions of what might happen if he were to fail, to be trapped in this world forever.

Jungkook only succeeds in getting some rest after passing out from exhaustion but before long, there’s a hand shaking his shoulder. Jungkook startles awake and immediately shoots up on his bed.

“What’s the time?”

“We still have a while until His Imperial Majesty concludes with his morning court but Mingyu and I thought you might want to get up early to get into the rhythm of speaking and conducting yourself. There is approximately an hour before the hour of the snake,” Yugyeom informs. Around eight in the morning then.

“That is wise, Yugyeom-ah. Thank you.”

“Shall we prepare your morning meal?” Mingyu asks.

“I do not have much of an appetite unfortunately. Please eat without me.”

His servants are hesitant and linger beside his bed before dismissing themselves. Jungkook adorns a silky hanbok in the colour of eggplants and scrutinises his appearance in the mirror. He practices standing with his shoulders back, practices the bow that’s never quite right and practices lowering himself onto the floor and sitting with utmost propriety.

It feels all kinds of wrong but he’s out of time when Mingyu and Yugyeom re-enter to help neaten his half-up hairdo. He finds comfort in the wavy strands that frame his face, feeling as though they could create a barrier between him and the glowers he’d be directed.

“Remember, Jungkook-ah, if you do not wish for your parents to know of your personality change, you must speak with bitterness,” Mingyu reminds.

“You can do this, Jungkook-ah. We will remain beside you for as long as possible,” Yugyeom reassures.

Only the soft pitter patters of their footsteps travel with them on their short journey to Sajeongjeon Hall. Jungkook leaves his trail of servants outside and enters the building with Mingyu and Yugyeom.

A smaller version of Namjoon’s throne sits between the two maroon pillars against the wall. A painting of heaven-touching mountains, shadowy groves and cascading waterfalls stands proudly behind the throne. Two lines of red cushions run down the hall to where Jungkook now stands.

The space is empty. They’re the first to arrive.

“D-Do I sit? Should we wait outside?”

“Sit here, Your Highness,” Mingyu directs, gesturing to the cushion closest to the entrance.

Jungkook is halfway to a kneel when pounding of footfalls near Sajeongjeon Hall. Shooting back up, Jungkook hastily swivels around and has his breath stolen by the emperors who carry themselves with natural self-assurance and confidence. If this was the sight the previous prince had witnessed, his actions may not be completely inexplicable.

Namjoon leads at the front, his eyes narrowed onto Jungkook. A warning is mixed with the emperor’s concern as they engage in a staring contest.

“Your Highness, bow,” Yugyeom whispers.

Breaking out of his spell, Jungkook bends his upper body and casts his eyes to the floor.

“Your Imperial Majesty,” Jungkook greets. He flinches when Namjoon’s hand meets his elbow but the emperor’s hold is firm enough that he doesn’t slip out of the grip.

“Rise, Imperial Consort Jeon.”

Jungkook does, straightening his back, lifting his chin and clasping his hands in front of him. He’s taken aback when he’s met with a face that isn’t fashioned with its typical repulsion. Namjoon is infuriatingly handsome without his enmity.

“It is fortunate you are early,” Namjoon whispers and immediately, the emperor loses all of his charm.

“It is you who is late,” Jungkook bluffs. He has no idea what time it is but if Namjoon insults him, Jungkook will return the favour.

“Behave.”

It’s the only verbal admonition Jungkook gets before an achingly familiar voice cuts through their moment.

“My dear.”

Jungkook’s gaze lands on two faces that he hasn’t seen in weeks, two faces he’d grown up with, two faces that have not even a mole difference. Jungkook opens his mouth but his words stick themselves to his throat.

He wants to feel his parents’ arms around him, wonders if it’ll offer the same comfort it always does. He desperately needs them to reassure him that everything will be fine. Instead, Jungkook greets his parents with a trembling tight-lipped smile befitting for acquaintances.

“Father. Mother. You have arrived,” Jungkook says. His nod feels too proper and too cold for all the history they’ve shared. They’re not the same people, Jungkook reminds himself again and again in his head.

“Jungkook-ah, it is a relief to see you awake and well,” his father says. “Your mother has been worried.”

“Shall we continue this conversation inside?” Namjoon offers.

“That would be preferable.”

Jungkook moves aside so that Namjoon can walk past him to his rightful place on the throne. The other emperors follow a step behind, the hostility removed from their gazes too. Insincere smiles that don’t reach eyes pause in front of Jungkook and he responds with an equally feigned eye crinkle and nose scrunch. When surprise at his expression makes Jimin stumble into Hoseok, Jungkook’s fake smile curves into a real one. He is entirely unsuccessful in masking his amusement.

“Be careful, Your Majesty.”

Jimin forces a cordial nod, only because King and Queen Jeon stand right behind them. His reluctance is obvious but he plays his part for the show.

Having been briefed yesterday, Jungkook enters immediately after the other emperors and stands behind a cushion on the right column. As his rank precedes his parents’, Jungkook is positioned closer to the emperor with his mother on his left and his father directly across from her. On the emperor’s right stands Seokjin, one of the unnamed emperors and Taehyung directly across from Jungkook. On the emperor’s left, the side in which Jungkook is positioned, stands the other unnamed emperor and Jimin.

“Please sit,” Namjoon commands as he settles on the throne. “We require some refreshments and privacy.”

Their crowd of servants is dismissed after several trays of teas and small delicacies are served. Jungkook is given an encouraging nod from Mingyu and Yugyeom before he’s left alone once again to fend for himself.

“My dear, let your mother have a closer look at you. You have gotten thinner. Has the food here not been palatable?”

“The food has been suitable, mother. I am regaining my strength by the day. You need not showcase concern in front of His Majesties.”

His words are meant to hurt his parents but it’s Jungkook’s heart who stings. The fall of his mother’s face makes Jungkook want to rescind his words but he must maintain his indifference to their care. When the younger prince had sought for their love and guidance, there were none to give, Yugyeom explained. It harboured resentment, which the prince had used as a weapon.

Jungkook turns away to not let his mother affect his resolve but is met with the emperors’ disapproving frowns instead. Namjoon’s expression, especially, is one that speaks volumes. There’s almost relief in the man’s eyes, like Jungkook has proved something right.

“Your rank may be higher than ours now but do not forget that we remain your parents,” Jungkook’s father says.

“Of course, Your Royal Majesty. My intentions were not to snide mother. I was simply providing reassurance that His Majesties have personally overseen my recovery and have been incredibly vigilant with monitoring my symptoms,” Jungkook says as his sharp smile travels between the emperors, provoking. “It seems mother may have mistaken my words as an insult towards your absent care during my childhood.”

“Jeon Jungkook.”

“King Jeon,” one of the unidentified emperors intervenes with his placating smile. Jungkook guesses this is Hoseok from his friends’ descriptions of the two kings he has yet to put a face to their names. The man emanates calm assertiveness that redirects all attention to him. Jungkook can see why Hoseok is called the mediator of the emperors. “We make certain that Imperial Consort Jeon is receiving the best care from the Imperial Physicians. It is expected that he will make a full recovery.”

“Can the physicians confirm that there will be no permanent consequences from his injury?” Jungkook’s mother asks.

“There will not be,” Namjoon says. Aside from Jungkook’s ‘memory loss’ that is. “The physician managing Imperial Consort Jeon’s care will be available to speak to you should you have any further concerns.”

“Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty. How will you ensure that an incident like this does not occur again?”

“We apologise for our negligence in this matter. We have yet to discuss remediations with Imperial Consort Jeon. We have been solely focused on Imperial Consort Jeon’s recovery but we agree that it is of utmost importance that immediate measures are implemented to ensure your son’s safety,” Seokjin says before turning to Jungkook. “What would you suggest, Imperial Consort Jeon?”

It’s another opening for Jungkook to admit responsibility for the incident, something that still doesn’t sit quite right with him, but with eight pairs of keen eyes waiting for his response, Jungkook is cornered. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he faces his parents again.

“The incident was due to my carelessness and consumption of alcohol in an unsafe location. I will strive to be more mindful in the future.”

“Why were your servants and guards not with you? Do you have insufficient servants assigned to your care within the Imperial Palace? Do you require some trusted guards from home?” Jungkook’s father asks.

It’s not something Jungkook has considered yet. If Mingyu and Yugyeom are his personal attendants, they should be with him at all times when he’s outside Gyotaejeon Hall. It’s not implausible that the previous prince simply evaded his servants as Jungkook had done so effortlessly several weeks ago.

The hall is silent with anticipation and Jungkook can’t delay his answer any longer. He refuses to accuse or implicate Mingyu and Yugyeom.

“The servants and guards are not to blame for the incident. It was I who requested time alone and dismissed them.”

“Had something happened to cause your need for solitude?” Jungkook’s mother asks with a frown.

“No. Since my youth, I have understood that peace can only be found in solitude. I simply wished for a moment away from the frenetic surroundings.”

Jungkook feels ungrateful for his dismissal of his parents’ concern and his constant reminders of their absence during his upbringing. They are and will always be rulers of a kingdom first, parents second, but still, Jungkook knows it would have had to hurt the previous prince.

It’s also evident now with how his parents sing a melody of blame at the emperors that little trust sits between them. Jungkook fears it would have been effortless to manipulate this situation, with the Jeon Kingdom in one hand and the rest of the Korean Empire in the other. It’s not surprising then that the emperors had been nervous about this meeting and Jungkook’s cooperation.

“It can easily be arranged for Imperial Consort Jeon to be watched over at all times. We will assign more guards and servants to his care,” the final unnamed emperor proposes with a smile that doesn’t hide his true purpose. Jungkook guesses that this must be Yoongi. He wears the same sharp eyes and slanted eyebrows that his friends described.

Jungkook hides his frown at Yoongi’s words. His current crowd of servants and guards is enough to be suffocating, let alone subjecting himself to twenty-four-hour surveillance. He opens his mouth to decline Yoongi’s kind offer when he’s interrupted.

“That will certainly assuage some of our concerns. Thank you, Your Majesty. Please understand that it is difficult for a mother to imagine her child alone, away from home.”

“It is very understandable, Queen Jeon, especially with a son who is adept at attracting everyone’s attention,” Jimin says.

Jimin’s smile is anything but warm when it lands on Jungkook. He’s instantly reminded of the unrestrained glares that he’d been subjected to yesterday but if there’s one thing Jungkook refuses to do, it’s backing down. He fixes his expression so that there’s only smitten appreciation on his face.

“How fortunate it is that I receive such comprehensive care from you, Your Majesty.”

“Anything for you, Imperial Consort Jeon.”

Jimin’s words drip with an excessive amount of sweetness that makes Jungkook want to scoff and roll his eyes. He disguises it as a breathy laugh that successfully fools his parents.

“It is reassuring to see that the union has been relatively harmonious despite the… hasty commencement. Our son seems to be in capable hands,” Jungkook’s father says.

“There are many of us to care for Imperial Consort Jeon. The Imperial Palace may not always be the safest place but we will take every precaution to increase security and reduce the possibility of harm coming to your son. If there are any additional concerns, please have no qualms raising them with us,” Yoongi offers.

Jungkook watches his parents exchange nods, satisfied with the solutions provided and overall outcome of their discussion.

“It is easy to distort words that are carried from mouth to mouth but Your Majesties are as magnanimous and kind as the stories describe.”

“The Imperial Palace is under our purview. We do not seek commendation for simply carrying out our responsibilities,” Namjoon says.

Jungkook’s eyes wander between the emperors, hearing sincerity in their statement. He must admit if the emperors were genuine with their care, they would make dependable partners. It seems his friends hadn’t been lying when they described the emperors as generous and charming if they are renowned for these qualities across the empire. Perhaps, if the previous prince had been less abhorrent, the union may have worked out.

It’s ridiculous for Jungkook to miss something he’s never had but it feels like a shame he’ll never be on the receiving end of their earnestness.

Quiet, encumbered by conflicting ideas, Jungkook lowers his gaze and tunes out the rest of the conversation.

Remembering the mean words he’d spat at the emperors yesterday coupled with his attitude towards his parents now, Jungkook tries to reason with himself that he isn’t acting out of line. Most of his words were only spoken to protect himself, weren’t they? He doesn’t want to acerbate the emperors, doesn’t want them to believe him to be cruel but how can he bite his cheek and meet their viciousness with kindness?

This person he’s becoming around the emperors, Jungkook doesn’t know if he likes him. Perhaps, when he entered this world, some parts of the old prince were left behind in Jungkook’s soul. Jungkook has never been an easy to anger person but it’s hard to not react in the same manner he’s treated with.

Or maybe all this malice has been dormant inside Jungkook, never having a chance to shine until now.

Maybe Jungkook’s just not the good person he thought himself to be.

It isn’t until Namjoon addresses him directly that Jungkook snaps his attention back.

“Imperial Consort Jeon, your physician has emphasised the importance of getting sunlight and exercise for a full recovery. It seems appropriate to take a stroll to Hyangwonjeong Pavilion. It is a rather pleasant day to have our midday meal outside. Shall we?”

“Certainly, Your Imperial Majesty. That is very considerate of you,” Jungkook says. His words come out in a tone softer than any he has used with the emperors. It causes a crinkle to settle between Namjoon’s brows, the man suspicious of what he perceives to be an easy-going pretence.

When Jungkook rises, his mother is instantly by his side, her arms hovering around him like a gust of wind may send him keeling. Jungkook gives his mother a mere nod that he hopes conveys his thanks and assurance.

Keeping up his act, Jungkook shuffles closer to the emperors as they lead the way out of Sajeongjeon Hall. Namjoon stands at the front, urging Jungkook’s parents to walk beside him. Although it isn’t King and Queen Jeon’s first times in the Imperial Palace, Namjoon plays his perfect part as the gracious host by pointing out the different buildings and explaining their history.

Jungkook retreats to the back to be alone with his conflicted thoughts but Hoseok, astute as he is, falls back to keep step with him. Their arms graze on occasion and before Jungkook can shift away, Hoseok raises a hand to rest under his elbow. The touch is surprisingly gentle and respectful and Jungkook is too busy overthinking to notice his parents glancing back at them.

The emperor remains silent but Jungkook doesn’t find it all that disconcerting. Out of all the emperors, Hoseok is the only one who hasn’t scorned him. Perhaps, Hoseok can spare him some kindness and answers.

“You do not need to worry,” Jungkook reassures. “I will not abscond.”

“That was not my concern.”

“It is not possible for me to cause any trouble on this short walk to Hyangwonjeong Pavilion, Your Majesty,” Jungkook tries softly.

“That is… contestable. You have a talent for innovative ideas.”

“Let me guess,” he sighs quietly. “Did I harass the servants tending to the gardens before my injury? Or did I purposefully destroy the flowers in an act of retaliation?”

“That is astonishingly accurate for a man who claims to have forgotten his memories.”

Jungkook’s breath falters and his eyebrows wrinkle together. He’d fallen straight into Hoseok’s trap. The previous prince’s actions are quite predictable from Mingyu’s and Yugyeom’s recounts but the knowledge seems to have worked against him. The more he learns, the less his memory loss will be believed.

The danger of Hoseok’s silence starts to unveil itself.

Jungkook pauses in his step to truly look at the man. What was once an honest and frank gaze is now no longer able to conceal its depth of calculation. The other emperors have been so obvious in their hatred that Hoseok’s neutrality deceived Jungkook. But he sees it now. It’s in the indifferent way he’s regarded and the open remarks that lowers Jungkook’s guard.

They’re all working towards the same end goal but it feels like the emperors are riding horses and Jungkook’s entrapped in a convict cage wagon. If he continues to bite them with his words, it’ll only end with both sides searching for blood. But if Jungkook doesn’t, if Jungkook holds his tongue, he may be torn apart by the emperors.

Jungkook can’t not fight.

Right?

He doesn’t realise the attention they’ve drawn from the rest of the emperors and his parents until Jungkook’s mother brushes soft fingers along his wrinkled forehead.

“What is it, dear? Do you require a break?”

“That will be most wise,” Hoseok speaks on his behalf. Through his deceit, he never once dropped his hand from Jungkook’s elbow, never once wavered in his false care. “It would be best for Imperial Consort Jeon to not overexert himself. We will accompany him to rest here. Please continue to Hyangwonjeong Pavilion, King and Queen Jeon.”

Even Hoseok’s charming smile looks duplicitous.

Jungkook doesn’t know who ‘we’ refers to until he sees Jimin stepping close. With Hoseok and Jimin acting as a barricade, Jungkook’s parents have no choice but to nod their agreement and continue to the pavilion with the rest of the emperors.

Turning his back on Hoseok and Jimin, Jungkook lets out a stuttered sigh. When he’s certain his parents are entirely out of view, Jungkook takes a seat on the low retaining wall beside the path. His legs are stretched out in a manner that will surely come under scrutiny should other nobles be around but Jungkook is too exhausted from spending two hours with his parents and the emperors. Digging the heel of his hands into his eyes, Jungkook rubs hard.

“Is there an issue? Is it your head?” Hoseok asks. His voice is cold but Jungkook could have easily interpreted it as concern.

“No.”

“Has your nausea returned?”

“No. Your Majesties do not need to pretend to care when my parents are not here. I am just fatigued.”

“You are fatigued?” Jimin cuts in. “It is barely midday. Refresh yourself before your parents think we are to blame.”

“Not all thoughts need to be voice, Your Majesty. If you have nothing helpful to add, please just leave me alone.” Jungkook wishes his words were harsher but he’s too tired.

“Need we also remind you that we require your parents support in our plans. Please refrain from antagonising them further,” Jimin rebukes.

“Of course. God forbid my feelings come in the way of the greater good.”

“Suspend your superficial feelings until the fate of the empire no longer rests upon your hands.”

“It must be simple to have emotions as fragile as candles. You can simply blow them out before they burn you. That is aside from the hatred that seems to be consuming you.”

“Oh, how I wish my feelings towards you can just be extinguished but they are not as simple as hatred. I am coming to believe that I may have overestimated my ability to fake a smile when it is you who is on the receiving end.”

“Your attitude makes my cooperation very difficult, Your Majesty. Do I also need to remind you that you require my help? Perhaps it would be a good idea for you to stop antagonising me.”

“Now your true colours show,” Jimin sneers. Jungkook doesn’t know why Jimin had pushed so hard for him to say those words and he doesn’t get time to think when Jimin braces his hands on either side of Jungkook’s thighs. To everyone else, it’ll only seem like an intimate moment but they’re not on the receiving end of Jimin’s ire. “Speak your true intentions behind helping us. We know you have conditions. What would you like? Our attention?”

Jungkook’s unable to voice a word because Jimin has leaned forward and stolen his breath. The man’s eyes are mean, pinning Jungkook down.

“Or perhaps, it is still our affection you are vying for.”

“Affection?” Jungkook huffs a laugh, disbelieving his ears. He looks away for a beat to compose himself before pressing forward into Jimin’s space. Their faces are just shy of touching, breaths mingling and eyes challenging. Jungkook can’t not fight. “I am afraid even if it were your affection I were after, you would not know how to give it.”

When Jungkook’s hand meets Jimin’s chest, the emperor freezes. Jungkook relishes in the shock that quickens Jimin’s heart and lingers for a second longer than the moment necessitates before shoving hard. Jimin stumbles back into Hoseok, giving Jungkook enough space to stand, dust his hanbok off and cast a baleful glare at them.

“Let us get this over with. Your company is as awful as I had presumed.”

Jungkook doesn’t wait the emperors’ response before continuing down the path to Hyangwonjeong Pavilion. He can hear Jimin’s angry mutter and Hoseok’s calm response behind him.

When he arrives at the same pavilion as yesterday, he finds the other emperors are already seated with his parents, awaiting their arrival. Jungkook inhales deeply to ready himself for another few intolerable hours of hidden agendas and fake smiles. When his parents notice his presence, Jungkook puts his insouciant smile in place and enters.

“Dear, come sit beside your mother.”

“I would prefer to be seated beside His Majesties.”

Jungkook’s mother doesn’t bat an eye at his tone, further confirming that the previous prince had spoken to her in the same manner. Jungkook’s father is quick to anger but a few pats from his wife have the fury dissipating. Without sparing his parents a glance, Jungkook takes the empty seat between Yoongi and Taehyung.

After Hoseok and Jimin enter, the table is set and the dishes are served. Seokjin takes the lead in making cordial conversation and jokes that Jungkook pretends to laugh along with.

From across the table, Jimin suddenly leans forward to pile Jungkook’s bowl high with foods that he has avoided.

“You need to consume a variety of nutritious foods to encourage your recovery. The Imperial Physician mentioned that you should avoid heavy flavours,” Jimin murmurs, removing all the meat and spiced foods. Jungkook’s eye twitches.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“We only want what is best for you, Imperial Consort Jeon.”

Jungkook’s parents take note of the adoring smile Jimin wears, unaware of the man’s true colours. Spiteful, Jungkook decides to continue the tit for tat exchange, only he’ll take it one step further.

“Your Majesties must replenish your energy too. I know your morning court always troubles you,” Jungkook says.

He shuffles onto his knees to fill Jimin’s bowl with the carrots he’d been avoiding. Jungkook moves on to the garlic dishes for Seokjin, the bland soybean paste stew for Yoongi, the healthy ginger dish for Hoseok, soft tofu and seafood stew for Namjoon and the spiciest dish that Taehyung cringed at. He’s unable to conceal his amusement when the emperors struggle to keep the irritation off their faces.

“It is fortunate I am familiar with Your Majesties’ favourite foods. Please enjoy the foods I am currently unable to.”

“We are the fortunate ones to be beholden to your thoughtfulness,” Namjoon smiles before forcing a spoonful of stew into his mouth. “The stew is certainly more delectable than usual. It must be because it was served by you.”

“You are more than welcome, Your Imperial Majesty. Do not hold back. There is plenty of soup.”

When Namjoon’s jaw ticks, gleefulness sparkles in Jungkook’s smile. An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. It’s merely a petty act that plays no part in re-establishing the stability of the nation. There’s no guilt for letting out his grievances.

As Jungkook settles back to his seated position, his elbow gets caught on his cup of tea, sending it tumbling to the floor. His instinct drives him to watch the emperors’ and his parents’ reactions first instead of picking up the cup. Jungkook finds the same expression, an utter lack of surprise on their faces, like they’d foreseen his carelessness.

It’s Taehyung who moves first, retrieving the lost cup and starting to drain the dampness from Jungkook’s clothes with a handkerchief.

“You must be more cautious, Imperial Consort Jeon. It is fortunate the tea has cooled already.”

Startled at Taehyung’s gentle hands, Jungkook swallows thickly, unsure what to do. He lets the man tap his sleeves dry as he remains open-mouthed and speechless. A servant comes forward to replace Jungkook’s teacup with a clean one but his world is centred on Taehyung. Up so close, he counts the moles on the emperor’s face, the small wrinkle of his brows as he concentrates on his task and the meticulous way he folds Jungkook’s sleeves up.

The hands encapsulating Jungkook’s have a softness that is only befitting for a royal. They wander and linger, like Taehyung is checking Jungkook’s arm for injuries. Except Jungkook knows the emperor doesn’t truly care. A glance towards his parents confirms his thoughts. They’re watching with eyes like hawks. It’s all for a show.

“Is that better?”

Taehyung’s gaze causes him to freeze, not because they’re unkind. Jungkook doesn’t know what to do when a lack of spite sits in Taehyung’s gaze and words.

‘Remember it is an act’, they had said. Jungkook only now understands why they had given him such a warning. Again, Taehyung could’ve easily fooled him into believing his concern is real.

“Jungkook-ah?” his father prompts. “Have you been injured? Do you require medical attention?”

And with those words, a gleam of solemness lands back in Taehyung’s eyes. Jungkook swallows, feeling like the emperor has snapped back into place. Regaining his own composure, Jungkook subtly slides his arm out of Taehyung’s grasp and turns a reassuring nod to his parents.

“I am not harmed. Thank you for helping me, Your Majesty,” Jungkook murmurs but he doesn’t dare to look at Taehyung.

“I am just relieved you were not injured.”

Glancing up quickly, Jungkook presses his lips together in what he hopes is a grateful and genuine smile. When Taehyung begins to return one, Jungkook lowers his gaze hastily and digs his chopsticks into the bowl. He eats on autopilot, still feeling a little spiteful that Jimin removed all the tasty dishes.

The small talk continues but all Jungkook notices is the glaring lack of stories about himself, the supposed link. The emperors don’t talk about how their union has been and his parents don’t share stories of what Jungkook had been like in his youth.

Because neither side know him.

Jungkook can understand, just partly, why the previous prince had sought so desperately for other people’s attention. To live in a world teeming with royals and servants, each with a right to their own opinions, it’s sure easy to feel scrutinised and unwelcome. If Jungkook doesn’t escape this world, he might just go insane.

He wonders if completing what the previous prince refused is his only solution out of here. There had to be a different way back, one where the world doesn’t rest on his shoulders. His entry to this universe had happened because the two incidents coincided. Perhaps, additional trips to the library and Gyeonghoeru Pavilion are warranted now that his rank is known to him.

Jungkook remains silent for the rest of the meal, only chiming in when his name is called to attention. He receives a few concerned glances from his parents and an equal number of irritated ones from the emperors for his lack of participation.

It isn’t until an orange blur slides into view that Jungkook finally drags his eyes along the arm, then up the shoulder, then to the man. Yoongi’s eyes are brimming with an impatience that’s only visible to Jungkook as he hesitates to take the offering.

Stunned, Jungkook’s eyes flicker between Yoongi and the tangerine, almost like he’s never seen one before. The tangerine isn’t just peeled but Yoongi had went through the effort to remove the pith as well. The silence goes on for too long that the emperor decides to take matter into his own hands.

Before Jungkook can blink, the tangerine is broken up again and a single piece hovers in front of him.

“Fruits are beneficial for your recovery,” Yoongi states in a matter-of-fact tone, even though Jungkook is sure the physician had never uttered those words.

Slowly, as if waiting for Yoongi to berate him or pull away and declare it a prank, Jungkook grasps onto the piece before cautiously feeding himself. The sweetness bursts and dominates the bland tasting food Jungkook had just consumed. His brows immediately knit together in an approving frown.

“Is it not sweet?” Yoongi asks, confused.

“No, it is very good.”

Jungkook doesn’t realise how silent the table has turned, only focused on eagerly taking up the next piece of tangerine that Yoongi breaks away. When he finishes the fruit and finally looks up, he finds his parents wearing fond smiles at their interaction. Out of instinct, Jungkook almost returns one of his own until he realises who he is and where they are.

Every move from the emperors is calculated, every word, every smile, every gesture. Jungkook must continue the show.

“I am finished.”

His voice comes out haughtier than expected as he wipes the residual juices off his fingers and leans away. It not surprising when everyone reacts similarly, with reticent nods and tight-lipped smiles. Namjoon clears his throat, stealing the attention away from Jungkook.

“It has been a long journey for you both, King and Queen Jeon. We have plans to spend the evening at Gyeonghoeru Pavilion with calligraphy practice. Will you care to join us or will you require time to refresh yourselves before we gather for the evening meal?”

“Gyeonghoeru Pavilion? Is that not where the incident occurred?” Jungkook’s mother frowns. Jungkook doesn’t need Namjoon’s brief, warning glance to know what he must say.

“It is alright, mother. The incident has not negatively impacted my experiences at Gyeonghoeru Pavilion. I do quite enjoy the view from the second level,” Jungkook says. His mother retains the scepticism in her sour expression but with her lower rank, Jungkook knows the difficult position she’s in. She just needs a push. “You and father should settle into Cheonchujeon Hall. We will see you later.”

“We understand. We will not intrude on your private time any longer. Thank you for accommodating us, Your Imperial Majesty. We will graciously accept your invitation and join you for the evening meal.”

Namjoon nods pleasantly and stands to walk Jungkook’s parents to the exit. The guards and servants that have been brought from the Jeon Kingdom follow Jungkook’s parents as they cross the bridge and return in the direction they had come from.

As soon as they disappear behind the foliage, Jungkook’s shoulders drop and he lets out all his withheld emotions in a heavy sigh. The emperors are silent beside him but Jungkook notices tension unwinding from their bodies. With their mission under progress, Jungkook makes to leave when Yoongi’s hand wraps around his bicep.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to Gyotaejeon Hall. My parents are no longer present. We do not need to stay in each other’s company. I will see you later.”

Yoongi’s face doesn’t give away anything as he leans close with a smile on his face like he enjoys the proximity. His next words hold his true intentions, quiet and with its usual irritation.

“Do you not detect your parents’ servants hovering by the path? It seems King and Queen Jeon have not been entirely convinced by our act. We cannot lower our guards. There are too many eyes and ears here.”

“I will simply inform my parents I went back to my quarters for an afternoon nap.”

“That will reflect poorly on us. It will appear as though we have pushed your limits and caused you to fatigue during your recovery,” Hoseok states.

“Well, as improbable as it may be, it has been exhausting maintaining this act and falsifying this united front.”

“Your words did not appear to be an act. You seemed exceedingly comfortable and natural speaking in the same manner as before your supposed memory loss. Even your parents were unsuspecting of anything being amiss.”

“Was it not obvious from our conversation that my parents were busy for most of my life? Is it truly surprising that they were not cognisant of any nuances in my demeanour?” Jungkook questions.

“It is not surprising that you only see them for their faults and not for their love for you. If you do not think your parents know you best, then you have underestimated them,” Namjoon speaks roughly. “Now, if you must continue this insightful conversation, how about we do so as we make our way to Gyeonghoeru Pavilion? People will begin to question our hovering here.”

Namjoon doesn’t wait for a response before leading the way down the stairs. Gritting his teeth, Jungkook turns his body to follow but a hand on meeting his elbow causes Jungkook to flinch. He finds Seokjin attached to the hand, the man’s grip firm, unlike Hoseok who evidently hadn’t wanted to touch Jungkook earlier.

“I can walk by myself, Your Majesty.”

“We are still in others’ sight. We will appear as though we are most caring of your recovery.”

“How benevolent you are.”

“Smile,” Seokjin orders.

Jungkook resigns himself as Seokjin’s arm restricts his freedom, like a shackle. His sure the tension in his jaw when he clenches harder is aggravating his headache but if he doesn’t, Jungkook is unsure what horrors his mouth would unleash. It wouldn’t just end with derogatory names. He wonders if the emperors would be more infuriated by his insubordination, the insults themselves or the fact that he ruined all their plans.

To keep himself occupied, Jungkook watches the other emperors.

Namjoon and Jimin converse in low voices at the front of the group. Their familiarity with each other is evident in the way Jimin brushes a stray hair out of Namjoon’s eyes and the way the emperor proceeds to slide his hand into Jimin’s to lock them together.

Taehyung walks lightly between Yoongi and Hoseok, either completely unaware or just accustomed to Yoongi’s doting as the older man fixes the ties of his hanbok for him. Hoseok on Taehyung’s other side nods along to something he says, his smile genuine and patient and unlike anything he has given or will ever give Jungkook.

The affection in the men’s eyes is something so pure and entirely unable to be fabricated. Jungkook wonders if this is what the previous prince wanted to achieve, just with all the wrong methods.

Peering to the side, Jungkook watches Seokjin’s sour smile and imagines what it would look like if it were someone else’s arm Seokjin were holding.

The rapid vacillation between guilt and frustration has an ache tearing through Jungkook.

He holds silent the entire way, unable to find any spite within him when Seokjin ignores him. Jungkook agreed to pretend but for some reason, the fake kindness and compassion hurts.

As Gyeonghoeru Pavilion comes into view, Jungkook pauses to take them in. The white pillars and traditional green and red panels are an exact reflection of the pavilion Jungkook has seen several times before except the colours glow more vividly. Impatient, Seokjin tugs Jungkook forward and towards the bridge leading across the Square Pond. He follows the emperors obediently until they stand right beneath the stairs.

Recalling Seokjin’s words from the library, Jungkook peers to side and notices the stained concrete. His gaze barely touches the patch of ground before red floods his vision. A view of rolling red stairs, of dark wine following him in drip, drip, drips. A voice he’s never heard before whispers but the whistle of wind and the porcelain vessel shattering to pieces splinter the spoken words. It ends with the sound of wheezing as Jungkook is left to die in a pool of wine and blood.

There’s no beeping of train doors, no rush of bystanders in this version. The world is still, calm.

They’re not his memories.

Pain pounds through Jungkook’s head, causing him to grimace and sway and lose balance. His hand slides out of Seokjin’s arm, braced on his knees to keep from keeling over. There’s not enough oxygen in the air but Jungkook takes greedy gulps to curb his nausea.

Two hands touch his shoulders from below, gentle and steadying. Jungkook lets his weight fall, lets himself be held up. It takes an entire minute before he’s ready to open his eyes and he meets Seokjin kneeling before him. Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to maintain the malice but the emperor does. Even in Jungkook’s vulnerability, he’s met only with coldness.

“Are you able to stand by yourself now?”

Jungkook presses two trembling fingers into his temples and uses all his remaining energy to right himself.

He’s right. The prince’s accident had been an attempted assassination.

“Are you injured?” Seokjin asks. The crease between Seokjin’s brows could have, yet again, been easily misinterpreted as genuine concern but Jungkook knows better.

“I am fine, Your Majesty.”

Seokjin doesn’t appear convinced, not when Jungkook’s words quiver just as much as his fingers do, but Jungkook doesn’t let the man relish in his fragility. He turns and heads up the stairs without a word. It’s disrespectful to the rest of the emperors for Jungkook to lead but in this moment, he can hardly worry about manners and etiquette.

Jungkook’s hand guides him along the railing. He’s cautious, afraid. The memory of what he’s just witnessed lingers behind his eyes. Even though the stairs bear no remnants of the prince’s tumble, Jungkook can feel phantom wood digging into his limbs.

When he reaches the top, Jungkook takes a steadying breath before examining his surroundings. Tables circle the border of the pavilion, each one holding the utensils required for traditional calligraphy. While he admires the layout, the emperors have settled onto their respective seats and cast wary stares at him.

A small nudge from Mingyu behind Jungkook has him hurrying to the vacant seat. When he’s in the right position, Namjoon waves his hand and signals for the servants to begin. Jungkook’s eyes widen at the array of brushes, porcelain stands, a stick of black ink, a spoon, a small cup, a stone plate, two rectangular blocks and several sheets of mulberry paper that sit upon his table. Yugyeom grabs the spoon and adds water to Jungkook’s mixing stone so he can grind the ink stick.

“What am I expected to do?” Jungkook whispers desperately to Mingyu and Yugyeom.

“Your Highness is expected to utilise this time to hone your calligraphy skills,” Mingyu responds quietly.

“But I do not know how.”

“Observe His Majesties,” Yugyeom says. “We can guide you to set up the equipment but unfortunately, we are not practiced in calligraphy.”

Jungkook peers over at Taehyung who sits closest to him and imitates the man. He brings a piece of mulberry paper to the centre of the table and places the two rectangular blocks on the corners like paperweights. Mingyu’s hand darts out to straighten them while Yugyeom pushes the mixing stone closer to Jungkook. There’s enough ink for Jungkook to commence but he’s hesitant to grab a brush. Sensing Jungkook’s waver, Mingyu points subtly at one of the four brushes on the stand.

Testing the feel in his hand, Jungkook finds it heavier than a pen with an uneven weight distribution between the front of the back.

“Was I previously well versed in calligraphy?” Jungkook mumbles quietly.

“Your Highness received calligraphy lessons from young but… you were fond of dancing to your own tune. Since moving to the Imperial Palace, you have not had reason to dedicate any time to writing. You were neither expected to write letters home nor manage any important affairs within the palace.”

“So it will not be terrifyingly alarming if my calligraphy reads more like a foreign language?”

Yugyeom bites his lower lip to keep from chuckling while Mingyu’s jaw hangs loosely in appal and his brows curve up in concern. Jungkook grins at their expressions before turning away to dip the brush into the ink and bringing it to the paper.

His first attempt, Jungkook’s brush has too much ink and his writing comes out as thick blobs. The second attempt, Jungkook has too little and the ink runs off before he even finishes one character. Jungkook finds his control lacking, some strokes thick and some strokes thin. He pauses to survey his work and blows up at the strands of hair tickling his face.

It isn’t long before Jungkook’s initial frustration and confusion turns into intrigue. He goes through one then two then three pages of paper. Aside from the gentle grating and occasional paper rustling, the pavilion is filled with the melody of swaying leaves and singing birds.

That is until Jungkook’s huff of exertion interrupts the peace. Mingyu and Yugyeom turn their hands to peek at Jungkook’s chicken scratches, finding it closer to that of a toddler’s than an adult’s handwriting. All Jungkook has managed to write is his name over and over again.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Jungkook sees his friends shake their heads and turn away to keep from smiling. Before he can stop himself, Jungkook snorts at his own failed attempts. He realises too late that aside from Mingyu and Yugyeom, there are now six additional pairs of eyes glued to him.

Jungkook’s scrunched nose immediately drops and his lips turns down when he meets Namjoon’s curious gaze across the pavilion. The other emperors have also ceased their own calligraphy practice in favour of watching Namjoon walk towards Jungkook. Hastily, Jungkook shuffles all his papers together despite them not having dried yet. Yugyeom stops grinding the ink stink as Namjoon nears and stands behind Jungkook with his head lowered.

Swallowing, Jungkook peers up at the emperor. Unfortunately, the pile he’s created is far from perfect with crumpled sheets sticking up at odd angles. Namjoon lifts a paper with Jungkook’s scribbles, eyebrows furrowing and lips thinning.

“It is a shame that your mother’s talents with literary arts have not transferred to you.”

Annoyed that his efforts have been so easily dismissed, Jungkook snatches his paper out of the emperor’s hands. He doesn’t need to hear Mingyu’s sharp intake of breath to know the action would not be taken well.

“I advise you once again to not disrespect us in public, Imperial Consort Jeon.”

“It is you who disrespected me first.”

“With my comment? No. When you chose to ridicule one of the most important forms of self-expression and cultivation, you showed disrespect to not only us, but our culture and our intellectual and artistic heritage. The simplicity of these writing instruments often leads people to believe calligraphy is not a complex skill however, different effects can be created depending on the manner and control with which one wields the brush. Rapid strokes convey imageries of soaring phoenixes while heavier strokes portray qualities of a proper gentlemen.”

Namjoon lifts Jungkook’s brush and demonstrates several strokes of different widths and lengths. He brings to life a variety of effects just like he’d spoken about. Jungkook watches intently as the brush becomes an extension of the emperor’s arm, gliding with elegance and deliberation. Each character that Namjoon writes holds a sense of balance and proportion that is reflective of the ample practice he must have had.

When the emperor finishes, he lowers the brush and turns his stern stare back to Jungkook. It makes Jungkook lower his gaze, feeling a perfect mix of scolded and intimidated.

“Calligraphy can convey much about one’s character. That is why it is important to refine and perfect our skills. Your aberrant decision to not cultivate your penmanship as a prince and now, an Imperial Consort, is ignorant.”

It’s not that Jungkook doesn’t want to practice calligraphy or that he thinks of it as a waste of time. Jungkook wasn’t trying to mock traditional calligraphy. He really was trying.

But his feelings of inequity are easily trumped by the guilt that bubbles up to his throat. He opens his mouth, the apology almost falling out of his mouth but Namjoon has already turned away. The silence the emperor leaves in his wake is louder than any word he had spoken. With the weight of the conversation hanging over Jungkook, he does nothing but watch each deliberate step Namjoon takes to stretch the distance between them.

It’s only when the emperor is back in his own seat that Jungkook finally looks down. Across his page sits eight characters that Jungkook frowns at. The Chinese characters return a mocking stare.

“What does it say?” Mingyu whispers.

“I cannot read Hanja.”

“You used to be able to,” Yugyeom informs. At Jungkook’s rising panic, Yugyeom adds on, “It will be all right. We will seek someone to read it for us.”

Jungkook’s unease remains on his face as his fingers hover over Namjoon’s strokes, tracing in the air. The emperor’s chastising has brought out a feeling for the first time since entering the world. Embarrassment.

Despite the emperors finally returning to their own practice, heat continues to burn Jungkook’s ears. He can’t do calligraphy, he can’t read Hanja, he can barely keep up with the proper conduct. Perhaps the emperors are in the right to be so critical of him. Jungkook has been so focused on trying to leave that he’s forgotten that there are still actions and consequences in this world.

Everything around Jungkook dulls to a hum, the honeyed sunlight draping across the pavilion, the exchange of genial conversation between the emperors, the shadows of leaves dancing in tune to the afternoon breeze. Namjoon’s words echo over and over again in Jungkook’s head, tuning out all else.

Just because the previous prince painted himself in a negative light doesn’t mean Jungkook has to continue perpetrating the same image. Jungkook has never been one to claim the centre of attention but with his quick wit and steady warmth, he has always found friends wherever he’d gone.

If he shows the emperors he means no harm, maybe they’ll see him for who he really is. Jungkook just has to bite his tongue and treat their harshness with kindness.

His musing is interrupted by Namjoon’s declaration of relocating to Geunjeongjeon Hall for the evening meal. Jungkook has spent so long in his own thoughts he hadn’t noticed the blue sky deepening to an indigo. A chill sits in the air and the birds that had been tweeting have long since retired into their homes.

Standing up, Jungkook fixes his rolled up sleeves and straightens his crumpled gown. Warm lights from the lanterns hanging above light a path down the stairs. Following behind Taehyung, Jungkook makes it one step before his vision blurs into a nauseating swirl. His grip tightens on the railing but it’s not enough to stabilise him when one of his feet have already left the ground.

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut as he braces for history to repeat itself.

The pain never comes.

Instead, a strong arm wraps around his waist, taking most of his waist. Two hands pull Jungkook upright but disoriented as he is, Jungkook stumbles into the railing.

It takes a moment for the world and his stomach to stop spinning. Jungkook nurses his temples and feels the rest of his senses start to melt into existence, the warmth supporting his weight, the wood digging into his back, the scented sachets the emperors carry on their belts, the voices calling to him. Jungkook hears Jimin’s voice first.

“What is it now?”

Squinting, Jungkook’s vision clears enough for him to see Jimin and Taehyung crowded before him. The other emperors are watching further down the stairs but it’s the two men in front of him that steal all of his attention. Jimin’s face flickers through a variety of expressions, unsure which to choose, while Taehyung’s gaze scans him rapidly.

Jungkook feels his guard lower, feels his heart push and pull like the tide. He can see the sorrow in their eyes, the wounds under their clothes and the trembling voice behind their bite.

“I am able to stand now. Thank you,” Jungkook murmurs but irritation marks Jimin’s frown.

“It is not you we were saving. It was the empire. If you fall once more, we may not be able to stop the empire from falling with you,” Jimin speaks lowly.

Jungkook’s answering sigh quivers and he focuses on standing straight without the emperors’ hands. They don’t quite move away, like they can’t trust Jungkook to descend the remaining stairs alone. Jungkook doesn’t trust his staggering legs either.

He doesn’t get another moment to breathe before the attacks continue.

“Not to mention your fall would have been at the most inconvenient timing. Again,” Yoongi drawls. “Not only have we recently promised your safety but your parents’ concern still burns a short distance away.”

Silence meets Yoongi’s words but Jungkook brain is too foggy to interpret all the insinuations. What he does know is that Yoongi’s scepticism contaminates the others.

“Was… was that your intention?” Taehyung asks, apprehension growing on his face.

“No. I lost balance.”

“There is a glaring lack of alcohol to hide behind as an excuse,” Jimin scoffs.

“It was an accident.”

“We have heard those words before,” Hoseok says.

Jungkook clamps his mouth shut, unable to find a retort. Fortunately, the emperors have also heard enough and they turn their backs on him, making him feel unheard, invisible. Even if Jungkook had the strength to scream at them, they’d only shove him back underwater and keep him there until his lungs burned.

He decides to not fight the lost battle, at least not tonight when all his feelings are raw, if they even are his own feelings.

Once Jungkook finally makes it safely and successfully down the stairs, his feet begin to drag. Mingyu’s and Yugyeom’s worry floats unspoken in the air but Jungkook feels it nevertheless. He maintains his silence all the way to Geunjeongjeon Hall and then through most of dinner despite the exasperated glares he receives.

Jungkook’s parents retire early but they stay long after, evading the watchful eyes that stand guard outside. He remains in his thoughts as the emperors gather to discuss their plans. They’ve turned their back on him but Jungkook hardly cares when his mind is scrambled. His name is thrown around like it means nothing, like he means nothing.

And later that night, when only Mingyu and Yugyeom remain in his company, Jungkook is too tired and too confused.

If Jungkook lowers his head, won’t the spite in their tongues strike like blades? If Jungkook concedes, won’t their viciousness tear him down layer by layer? If Jungkook doesn’t fight back, won’t he be trampled on like a whisper in a thunderstorm?

Jungkook can’t not fight.

Right?

ⴵ