"You cannot lie to me."

"Hanjae..."

"You cannot!" His eyes were wide and frantic, fixated on the man who kneeled before him, but the submissive position was contrasted by the cold, condescending gaze that he bore. "Do not dare lie, Chul-soo. I have the power to make the mountains quake, the seas part, the earth's creatures tremble." Hanjae's hand clasped the hilt of his sword, but he did not draw it. Yet. He reveled in the sudden concern on Chul-soo's face. "It would be foolish to assume that I cannot make you too bend to my will."

A gust of wind tore through the gardens. It rippled the brook, fluttered the leaves, and ripped Namjoon's gat from his head. With a huff of frustration, he abandoned his book and chased the abominable object. Once he finally retrieved it, set it firmly atop his head, and returned to his shaded spot beneath the lone willow tree, the anticipation for Chul-soo's response was long gone. He had already predicted that the man was responsible for the murder of Hanjae's younger brother, and a single sentence – "I will accept responsibility for my crimes." – was all the confirmation that Namjoon needed. He lazily thumbed through the book's pages while gazing up at the clouded sky.

The gat's obstinance was partially his fault. He was asking for trouble when he ventured to the gardens beneath a sky that threatened bad weather. Still, he found it intriguing that the heavens had not recovered from the previous evening's downpour. Namjoon had hardly been able to sleep a wink, kept awake by the horrible crackling of thunder and lightning. Indeed, he hated storms. The only reason he dared go outside today was the sudden, overjoying news that had arrived in the dead of the night.

The king was dead.

In a sudden and brutal attack from Japanese invaders, Gyeongbok Palace was burnt to the ground. It was unclear whether the fire had killed the king or other opposing forces, but Namjoon did not care about the lack of information. He found it rather poetic that the king was killed by his very identity.

Namjoon heard raindrops pattering against the tree's leaves. Rain... Namjoon could handle rain. But then, he heard the distant boom of thunder, and cold fear cascaded upon him like an avalanche. He grasped his book against his chest with trembling fingers and ran from the willow tree. Rain trickled off the brim of his gat, and he bent his head to protect the vulnerable pages of his book – indeed, although the gat had ruined the anticipation, there were still many unanswered questions in the story. Finally, he ducked under the shelter of his front porch, but he did not truly relax until he was inside the house with the door slammed shut behind him.

He was preparing to exhale deeply when an angered voice demanded, "Namjoon? Where on earth have you been?"

The mere sight of his father's reddened face, his haphazard garb, and the ring of chaos surrounding him – books, papers, and the remains of a shattered vase strewn across the floor – put Namjoon on the verge of passing out. "I-I-I..."

"Is it so difficult?" the man snarled. "My afternoon has been thrown into disarray, all because I could not find my son who should wait on me hand and foot."

"Many apologies, Father. I was in the gardens, reading." He dropped to his knees and bent his head, bracing himself for a blow. "I was not aware you were searching for me."

"Well, why would I not search for you? The whole kingdom has been thrown into a frenzy." He growled and snatched up another vase, hurling it against the wall. The piercing shriek of its shatter, notably similar to lightning, made Namjoon's hands tremble violently. "The courts may have already decided upon a suitor, and you were frolicking in the gardens!"

"Suitor, Father?"

"Yes, suitor." He tossed a scroll of parchment to the floor, and Namjoon flinched when it hit his knee. "I trust you can read it yourself, what with the whole library you consume in a day."

Namjoon struggled to untie the ribbon around the scroll with his quivering fingers. Once he read what was written, he nearly dropped it. "A competition, Father? Surely, this cannot be an official dec–"

"It is signed by Chun Seokjin, Chief Royal Secretary to the king and brother of the queen."

"I just... I do not understand why her brother would let her make such an important decision. Would it not be fitting for the Royal Courts to select a new king, as they always have?"

"It was the king's dying wish for his queen to select Joseon's next ruler. Even if a commoner had been tasked with choosing the next king, it is not our place to judge the circumstances." He raised a warning finger at his cowering son. "You will present yourself to the Court of Earth and request to become their representative suitor."

"Oh, please do not make me do it." The words escaped Namjoon's mouth before he could properly consider them. When his father's face reddened again, he dropped into a full bow on his hands and knees and babbled desperately for forgiveness. "Please, Father, I did not mean it. My only concern is our position in society. You know the law – if three generations of yangban have not served as government officials, they will be demoted to commoners. I am the third generation, Father, and I have studied my whole life to serve the king in his Royal Courts."

"Oh, what will the law matter when you are king? Who would wish to serve the king rather than become him?"

I would. But Namjoon knew that further dispute would only result in fresh injuries lain upon a web of scars on his back, and that would only worry his mother. Ignorant of anything the competition might entail, unaware of any power struggles he might be entering, he squeezed his eyes shut and relinquished, "I will present myself as a suitor."

"Well, of course, you will." There was no pride in his father's tone. "Anyone can present himself as a suitor. You must promise me that you will fight to become the Court of Earth's representative."

"...I will."

"And you will woo the queen, win her heart, and rule Joseon."

"Father, I cannot make empty promises. The queen will decide who the most fitting ruler is."

Another vase shattered, this time against the door, showering Namjoon with shards of glass. "Do you think I am unaware of the matter? The queen is a woman. She would not know a fitting ruler if he smacked her in the face. I do not care how many books you read, nor how soft and forgiving you are – you will assume the persona of a fitting ruler. If you cannot promise me this–"

"I promise, Father." He immediately regretted the words, knowing they were impossible to fulfill. And even if, by some miracle, the queen saw kingly qualities in him, ruling Joseon would force him to give up his dreams of becoming a scholar. It was worse than a death sentence but a far better alternative to his father's torture.

~ ~ ~

Jungkook's heartbeat marched in time with the rapid rhythm of his footsteps. It was easier to traverse the open plains of the countryside. Within Hanseong, he had struggled to weave through the dense crowds. Here, it was rare to find another traveler.

His sides ached, and a severe cramp was forming in his calf, but he refused to acknowledge his pain. The scroll he clutched in his fist burned through his hand, urging him forward.

The sun was setting. It would have created a blinding horizon if not for the blanket of rainclouds concealing the heavens. The storm had been severe in Hanseong, and for every moment it faltered, the subsequent downpour was even more powerful. At the moment, the earth welcomed a brief respite, but Jungkook's clothes were still damp. It seemed that the storms had reached the entire kingdom, as his dirt path was muddy and clung to his boots like quicksand.

Rain was beginning to ravage the lands again when he reached the top of the hill and found himself staring at his family's countryside home. Reinvigorated with energy, he hurdled the gate and ducked under the front porch. After knocking, he leaned against the door and gulped in deep breaths of the fresh, spring air. The door opened without warning, and he stumbled into a woman's arms.

Her eyes went wide with surprise, and then an endearing flush reddened her cheeks. She gently set him upright and bowed politely. "It is a pleasure to see you here, Jungkook-ssi."

Oh, heavens, no, he would not allow that.

He gripped her wrist and tugged her out onto the porch. She hardly had time to utter a surprised, "Oh!" before he pressed his lips to hers. Initially, she hesitated, making it all the more intoxicating when she tilted her head to deepen the kiss and her hands tangled in his hair. Jungkook was far too happy – it was the effect of her floral scent, the silkiness of her hanbok, the smoothness of her cheek when he traced it with his finger, the plumpness of her lips...

He was almost angry when she broke the kiss. "Jungkook-ah, we should not be doing this. Your parents still do not know about us."

"If you did not want me to kiss you senseless, then you should not have answered the door," he answered plainly, nuzzling into her neck to plant gentle kisses there.

"I did not know that you would be visiting your father today. If you had sent a messenger ahead, I would have prepared refreshments for you."

"Hayoon..." he mumbled, recalling the reason for his visit. "Is my father well?"

"He is still alive, if that is what you are asking."

"No, I wish to know whether he is well. Is he delirious, or can he hear life-altering news?"

She froze beneath his grip. "What life-altering news could you have brought from Hanseong?"

"Is he delirious, Hayoon?"

"Well, he was angry moments ago, so–"

"So, he is as well as ever. Delightful." He knew Hayoon would not miss the bitterness of his tone, and her sympathy was apparent in the way she gripped his hand until they entered his father's room. The clouded atmosphere allowed very little light to filter through the window, and the fireplace was dying. Thus, Jungkook could only see a shadowed reflection of his father's pale face.

"My son has returned from Hanseong." His voice was weaker than Jungkook remembered, but his stare retained its usual apathetic coldness. Jungkook refused to cower, refused to acknowledge his fright. Hayoon stood still across the room, bowing her head respectfully.

"I carry word of serious news and a presented opportunity."

"The serious news first, then."

"The king is dead." Jungkook offered no hesitation, and Hayoon's gasp echoed through the room. Even his stoic father betrayed an expression of shock, his hands curling into fists by his side. "Gyeongbok Palace was set on fire by Japanese invaders, and he lost his life amidst the flames."

"Who will succeed him?" Hayoon piped in. Her hands trembled as they clutched her skirt, and her cheeks had become pale. "Surely, the kingdom has been thrown into disarray. The king had no legitimate heir."

"That is the presented opportunity." He lifted the scroll and tossed it in Hayoon's direction. It landed at her feet, and she scrambled to pick it up. "Read it."

"'In the recent, tragic event of His Majesty King Yoongi's death,'" she read, "'we in the palace shall acknowledge his dying wish – that his wife, Her Majesty Queen Baram, shall select a fitting ruler to succeed him. We require one representative suitor from each Royal Court. Present yourself at Changdeok Palace in three days' time, and prepare to enter a competition that will determine the next ruler of Joseon. Long live the king. Signed, Lord Chun Seokjin.'" Hayoon lifted her head, and tearful anger marred her countenance. "This is what you have come for, then – not to visit your dying father but to inform us that you will be wooing the queen's heart."

"Hayoon–" Lower lip trembling, she threw the scroll at him and stalked out of the room. "Hayoon, listen to me."

"Do not follow me!" she demanded, her voice quavering, but he doubled his pace to catch up with her and snatched her wrist. She thrashed, babbling incoherent insults, but he pinned her against the wall and gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"I will not pretend to believe that a woman can fully understand these matters," he said measuredly, "but I thought you would handle it better."

"What is there to understand?" she snarled, jerking her chin from his tight grip. "Despite being a nobleman's daughter and caring for your father in your absence, I am not enough for you. You fix your eyes upon the queen, Her Majesty, another man's wife."

"The king is dead, Hayoon, and the kingdom is desperate for another to rule in his stead. They will appoint anyone if he is eligible enough, and who is more fitting to be king than the son of the Court of Water's most highly-respected official? I will succeed King Yoongi, and you will rule alongside me."

"Joseon already has a queen."

Jungkook smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "Accidents happen." He leaned closer and nuzzled into her cheek. "Wait for me, Hayoon. Wait until I am king, and then we can have the future we deserve."

She exhaled shakily and succumbed to his loving embrace. "I will wait for you, Jungkook. I will wait a million years if I must."

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. "One month. One month, my love, and the crown is mine."

A/N: no, "gat" is not a spelling error hehe. it's this thing, the hat that jin wore:

so, this book is finallyyyy underway :) welcome to the Ancient Tragedy of Love and Manipulation, a fairytale where our beloved characters live un-happily ever after. seriously. in case you didn't heed the warning in the foreword, this story does NOT have a happy ending, but there is some hope.

i'm not that cruel ;)

a few notes about the content of the chapter: "Gwangbok Palace" and "Gwangbokgung" will be used interchangeably, as the suffix "-gung" indicates the location is a palace. "hanseong" refers to the capital of joseon, the ancient seoul. "yangban," the word that namjoon uses to describe his family's position in society, refers to joseon's class of aristocrats who served as government officials. the law he explained was real -- if three generations of yangban hadn't served in the joseon government, they would be demoted to commoners. the struggle was real if you were lazy ajdaskdhs.

also, i do NOT condone jungkook's treatment of hayoon. these characters are all flawed in their own way. the purpose of the story is to emphasize the flaws and show them in contrast to the virtues of other characters. during this time, women would have been treated very poorly -- does NOT make it right, but it was the climate of the time. i won't condone it, but i won't ignore it. 

i can't promise ill update regularly butttt i can say that i love this story very much and that i can't wait to share chapter two with you <333

Published July 3, 2021.