APPLICANT #11

the cut-stringed marionette, hyon namyi

He has seen his brother already; he should be able to tell. He should be. But yet he cannot. He can only cry and feel his heart clench in front of the deadly pale face of his father. There is something in the air he does not like. Something that finds his heart to his heart. He does not feel good. The feeling does not go away as he looks at his mother, instead it becomes stronger. He feels sad. She does not, apparently. He closes his eyes for a while, hoping to calm himself and find a reason for this cloak of darkness over himself, yet he cannot find any. It is right there, but he cannot see it. He can just see the smiling face of his little brother, as if calling for him. He feels cold. He is only eighteen and he feels like his world is crumbling down. It is too soon. What is he going to do? The days go by and he cannot see them. His eyes only see the frozen heart of his mother, this woman who does not show any remorse. He wants to leave. He does not want to play in the game of thrones – is there really a throne after all? Riches. Houses. Jewels. Did he really need all that? He just wanted peace. Anywhere, but here.

Namyi was lost in his thoughts as he followed the familiar path from his room to his master’s quarters. He bowed respectfully to those he met but he was too focused on his own thoughts to actually register who he was bowing to. He did not mind anyway – after all, his master had made it very clear that he was to respect all members of the Royal Court. The boy sighed. Even though he had been raised in a noble house, it was nothing similar to this. People looking at you, waiting for every opportunity to bring you down. It was not uncommon for rumors to spread inside the castle and the best way to avoid it was to stay discreet, polite and apparently harmless. He had left out that the keywork in that was ‘apparently’, but the young male had quickly figured it out. And now, he was playing the game of nobility pretty well – he actually enjoyed the subtleties of all those word games.

As he finally reached the door of the Apothecary quarters, he was surprised to hear voices coming from inside. It was still pretty early and Ma Dongseok was definitely not the chatty type in the morning. He enjoyed working in silence most of the time anyway, but in the morning, talking to him had the tendency to irritate him for the rest of the day. Namyi frowned, his body froze in mid-gesture, his hand a few centimeters away from knocking the door. Should he eavesdrop? Surely, he should not right? He shook his head and decided to knock. His master’s clear voice took a few seconds to made itself heard, after which Namyi entered the room.

“Good morning, master Ma,” he bowed while entering. As he raised his head to see the man’s guest, he froze, “Erh, g-good morning, your Highness.”

The guest, who was none than Oh Dokhyun, The King of Luce, smiled and greeted him as well, while Dongseok just nodded. The air inside the room was heavy, full of unsaid words and Namyi felt extremely uncomfortable, which was a bizarre feeling. The last time he had felt like this, his father had just died. As the silence kept on going, the young male scratched his neck.

“I apologize for intruding your conversation. Should I come back later on, Master?” he asked politely.

“No,” the King answered instead, standing up from his chair. “I was about to leave. I would not want to interrupt your busy day right at its beginning. Apothecary Ma, I also apologize for bothering you so early.”

“I understand, your ship is leaving quite soon,” the gruff man said with a seemingly soft voice, though he made no move to stand up. If Namyi had been shocked by his apparent calm, his lack of proper manners in front of a King, their new regent even, was enough to convince him something was going on. “I will look for something. If even your physicians have not been able to cure him despite watching over him for ten years, I do not know if I will be able to find something, but I have to try. My reputation is at stake, you know.”

“Surely curing a Prince would do it some good, you old bear,” the King laughed slightly, making Dongseok growl at the nickname.

Namyi observed their interactions quietly. He had not been aware of his master’s connections with the royal figure and was surprised to see how comfortable they seemed with each other. But then again, the boy felt that there was something wrong. He could see the extreme fatigue in the King’s eyes, the worry was wretched all over his face. He had heard about Prince Suwoong’s illness – everyone had. If part of him (surely due to Sanghyuk’s love for theories and fantasies) had thought it could have been a way to hide something, he was now sure. The Prince was sick and whatever illness was troubling the heir to the throne, his recovery was still not achieved, despite having reclaimed his royal position. Finally, he was shaken from his thoughts when the Kind made his way towards him. The male immediately took a step aside to let him open the door and bowed respectively. After a gentle pat on his shoulder, Oh Dokhyun left the room, leaving the master and his apprentice alone. Namyi turned to him and smile. Maybe this morning would be a peaceful one.

“What are you doing still standing here? Go get your quills, it is time to study!” Dongseok barked at him.

The young male sighed. Not a peaceful morning, no.

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