Chapter Text
As he followed the old woman through the narrow corridors of the servants' quarters, Namjoon watched the frenetic movement outside through the small windows.
The courtyard was decorated with colorful ribbons that danced in the breeze, food stalls gave off tempting aromas, and beautiful women in beautiful hanboks were scattered throughout the large courtyard, and musicians were slowly settling in with their large and small instruments.
They would celebrate the reign of a genocidal.
The old woman dictated the rules of coexistence mechanically and automatically, her tone was rude and disinterested.
Namjoon already despised her as much as she seemed to despise him. It was large from the outside, but there were so many rooms that there was barely room in the hallway to walk, the rooms lined up like cells, compromising any sense of space or privacy.
Namjoon held the few rags he called clothes in his arms, listening to the rules of coexistence without really understanding them and without bothering to question them, even though he knew that many of them didn't even make sense.
He didn't understand half of what was here, but it didn't matter either.
His bedroom was in the last room and the old woman left him in front of the door to explore the room, certain that it would be no more than five square meters.
When he opened the door, Namjoon came across a small space and a handsome man who smiled at him brightly.
The guy seemed made of a natural kindness, like someone who knew how to do the best with what he had.
"You must be the new guy." He said, with a voice that exuded a warm sympathy.
Namjoon agreed, mumbling a shy yes, without being able to look him in the eyes.
But Namjoon didn't stay long enough to hear his name or really get to know him.
As a gardener, Namjoon would always be in the yard, tending to the flowers, carrying dirt and moving pots.
It was ironic.
His father was the best in nature. He could spend all day in the garden, dealing with larvae and thorns, and he would come home with the big smile of someone who works with what he loves.
Namjoon was never good with plants, as much as he loved and admired them.
But there he was, carrying expensive ceramic vases from one place to another, each one containing a beautiful array of flowers.
The work dragged on for hours. The sun beat down on his skin, the weight of the vases made his arms throb, and Namjoon could have sworn he had carried more than a hundred vases.
And to think he had begged Seokjin to give him a lighter job.
Still, it was better to be in the capital.
At the end of the day, his reward was a hearty dinner of rice and pork, a luxury amidst the misery that surrounded him.
Right after the meal, he was given a quick shower with a damp cloth and a thin mattress in his shared room.
There were two thin mattresses and a small pile of clothes in the left corner, a beautiful cloak folded next to them standing out for its blood red color.
So, his companion decided to make friends.
Hoseok, he discovered, was a nice guy.
Namjoon felt ashamed of himself when he found himself thinking about how cute the man who was only a little older than him was.
“But I’ll be leaving the kitchen soon.”
He continued the monologue he’d been on for about ten minutes, not caring that Namjoon didn’t interact with anything more than murmurs and nods.
Namjoon couldn’t help but ask.
“How?”
The cute laugh made Namjoon blush.
“I’m with an officer. If I can persuade him enough, I’ll get a more comfortable position, maybe even as his personal assistant.”
Namjoon nodded in the darkness.
“What does a personal assistant do?”
He asked shyly, afraid that Hoseok would laugh at him for not knowing. But he didn’t seem like that kind of person.
“A personal assistant is like a handyman… but different.” Hoseok confided with a mysterious smile. “You should try it too. You have a pretty face.”
He spoke as if he were an old friend giving Namjoon some advice.
Hoseok was a natural talker and had a natural way of filling the silence with stories and comments. Namjoon, on the other hand, just listened.
He felt out of place, a little bad for not being as friendly as he wanted to be with his new… friend. Hoseok was nice. Namjoon wished they were friends.
The younger man walked out wearing a beautiful dark gray hanbok, with a smile that rivaled the brightness of the stars. Namjoon assumed he would meet his officer at the party.
A sigh of relief left his lips. Since his post was in the garden, he wasn't needed at the party. When the room remained in a calm silence after Hoseok left, Namjoon let his mind wander.
He kept replaying the brief moment with the beast. The governor was the worst kind of monster, with a smile that hid a rotten and dark soul.
His touch still felt like a ghost on Namjoon's chin, as if it were still there, squeezing and taking his breath away. As much as Namjoon wanted to be patient, it wouldn't take long.
At the first opportunity, he would take Jeon Jungkook's life.
A few minutes after Hoseok left, Namjoon stood up and picked up the cloak that was folded delicately on the floor, covering his body with it. It fit him perfectly. He quickly shook off his hesitation.
The cloak probably belonged to Hoseok. But the older man wouldn't mind, right?
He wasn't needed at the party, but he wasn't obligated to stay in the dorm either.
So why not venture out into the party and try to find something useful?
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
Taehyung sat in the place of honor, but the fun seemed to pass him by.
The dancers moved gracefully, their vibrant clothes undulating to the rhythm of the music, but he barely noticed them.
His attention was diverted by the lords of Baek-Ho, a group of old, shrewd men who whispered in mellifluous tones about lands and profits.
They were worried about Jungkook's rise and were bad at disguising it, suspicious of his reputation.
But, as always, Jungkook played the game well.
“We are confident that, under your leadership, these lands will prosper,” said one of the elders, his voice dripping with calculated flattery.
Taehyung felt like laughing at him. Jungkook and he were there just to eliminate the group that was giving the emperor a headache, but there they were, together and celebrating Jungkook's ascension.
Celebrating the ascension of the one who would take their lives.
Jungkook kept his friendly smile as he nodded. Taehyung would die of boredom and he knew that Jungkook would follow him a few moments later.
His eyes scanned the crowd, disinterested, bored.
That is until he found a familiar blood red cape that was slipping through the crowd.
He couldn't help the slow smile that appeared on his lips, so he slowly dodged the old traditionalist gentlemen and Jungkook, then followed the figure through the crowd.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
Namjoon bitterly regretted taking that cloak and going out exploring the place like a child exploring his backyard.
He dodged the crowd of people well, but his mind kept insisting that he needed to plot an escape route so he could follow it after killing the governor.
That is, if he was still alive after killing the governor.
He crept up to the solid and imposing stone walls, passing by the guards as if he didn't even see them, feigning complete disinterest.
He walked and walked until he found a corner with great potential — unguarded, poorly lit, and away from the main houses.
There were wooden boxes filled with leaves and cut branches, stacked high enough to be climbed to the edge of the wall.
So convenient.
Namjoon figured he would need to check those boxes daily to see if they were still there, which was unlikely. It should be considered trash by the nobles and maybe they would be thrown away soon.
But the trash never ends.
He would check it out in the next few days, he concluded.
That was when the first shit happened.
While Namjoon was observing the place carefully, trying to consider its advantages and disadvantages, an arm grabbed him by the waist, pulling him against a rigid body.
“What a pleasant surprise in a boring night.” Namjoon froze, holding his breath in complete shock. A snake crawled up his belly and squeezed him tightly, leaving him breathless and with his mind racing. “I thought you would be resting tonight, I’m glad you weren’t, Hobi.”
The velvety voice purred in his ear.
Namjoon’s mind worked like a machine.
He was wearing Hoseok’s cape.
The man called him Hobi.
Hoseok said he was involved with an officer.
Oh.
Namjoon was a little taller than Hoseok, and the cloak hid the shape of his body, which was nowhere near as thin as his new, older friend, but in the dim light of the moon and the poor lighting where they were, perhaps he could have been mistaken.
A strange feeling tied a tight knot in Namjoon's throat.
He knew he should say something and reveal that he was not who the man thought he was. He knew he should have pulled away.
He would have.
Namjoon would have pulled away and revealed himself if the man hadn't kissed him.
For a second, Namjoon didn't know how to react.
It was nothing like kissing Seokjin. Seokjin was slow, calm, torturously lazy and sweet.
There was nothing sweet about kissing him, on the contrary — it was firm, stunning and hit Namjoon right in the feels.
Panic bubbled in the pit of his stomach, but that feeling was no stronger or more overwhelming than the pleasurable shiver that rose on his skin or the sudden, throbbing agitation between his legs.
Namjoon tried to pull away, but as soon as he tried to take a deep breath and explain himself, the mysterious man took the opportunity to stick his tongue inside Namjoon's mouth.
Things only got worse.
Namjoon didn't try to kiss him back, but he also didn't have enough strength to force himself to pull away.
Big hands held his waist tightly and pushed him against the stone wall, not stopping kissing him for even a second.
It was only when the man finally seemed to be out of breath that he pulled away, a square, mischievous smile and still dangerously close to Namjoon.
"Okay, you're not Hoseok."
The velvety voice murmured as he brushed another kiss over him.