Blank faced, Sungjong stared at his father. Howon stared at him. Sungyeol stared at Howon. His dad stared at anywhere but Sungjong’s cold eyes.

            “What?” he asked quietly, almost unconcernedly. But anyone who knew him could hear the suppressed anger in his voice.

            Sunggyu leaned his head back to stare at a point above Sungjong’s shoulder, his tear streaked face painted with shame. “He wants you, no one else. Just you.”

           The youngest briefly shut his eyes and exhaled silently.  Stay calm, stay calm, he chanted mentally. Okay, no. That was just making him madder. He never understood how people could psycho themselves into calming down when all they wanted to do was throw someone across the room. His dear, darling dad who just happened to finish his business early, who specially went to another city to get the coveted fragrance for his princess, would of course hold the freaking map upside down and get himself hopelessly lost in the forest.

           Oh, and let’s not forget walking into the first house he sees and stealing a rose on his way out. Guess this was one warped version of Goldilocks and the 3 bears..

           Moral of the story: don’t go into big, spooky homes just because there isn’t a STOP sign. He eyed the pathetic stem of rose in his hands resignedly. Not wanting to come home empty handed, it was his dad’s substitute for the elusive perfume. (“Don’t all roses smell the same?” he had wailed)

           Yes, but clearly not all roses are worth the same. It was just Sungjong’s very, very bad luck that the beast loved his rose bush. What a tragedy, is my life only worth this much?

           “I’ll go, don’t worry dad.” He smiled, albeit a little sadly. He wasn’t afraid of the beast, he was just terribly disappointed that his dad gave him up so easily like a piece of property. Tuning out the chaos that erupted around him, Sungjong set to work calmly and methodically packing up his belongings with an unusually emotional Howon hyung hanging over his shoulder. He bade goodbye to his family, felling a weird sense of déjà vu as they clutched at him tightly. Only this time he wouldn’t be returning.

           That was how Sungjong found himself in the middle of the woods after sunset, way past his expected arrival time. For all his disdainful comments about his dad and brothers’ lousy sense of direction, he was not exactly Christopher Columbus either. For a moment Sungjong contemplated giving a call to ask for directions, but then his pride took over and scowling, he stuffed his phone away.

           No way was he going to admit that he held the map upside down too. Eventually he managed to find the castle, with a lot of cursing at the wind which seemed bent on messing up his hair whenever he popped his head out to clear the windshield.

           The gates of the castle loomed in front of him, looking ominously like the bars of a prison. You would think that a prince would have enough money to hire an interior designer, Sungjong thought irrelevantly. He glanced at the backseat with his measly collection of belongings. He had stubbornly refused to bring his makeup kit with him, choosing to bring only the barest necessities. Bringing his worldly possessions was too much like saying goodbye to his old life. It was as good as a neon light going “Goodbye freedom, hello life in hell!”

           Shaking his head, Sungjong shoved the bitter thoughts aside. No, he was so not going to turn into a grumpy old guy (“Lady,” as what Sungyeol said, that , to which Sungjong had countered by saying he fit the description better) whining about his miseries to the world. On second thoughts, that sounded suspiciously like Sungyeol. Hell, maybe he shouldn’t have done that stupid heroic thing because now he doesn’t even have something to stop him from jumping off the tallest tower.

           The gates swung open for him and he drove right up to the front steps, not even bothering to park properly. Grudgingly, Sungjong dragged himself up the ridiculously long steps, feeling pitifully like a beggar coming to ask for shelter. Right on cue the skies opened up and drenched him from head to toe within seconds. “What the hell?” he screamed at the skies, “Is this flipping karma or something?” Time to regret all those times he poured sand into Sungyeol’s espresso powder as payback for disturbing his beauty sleep. It was only thanks to that helpful little earthworm that he even figured out Sungjong’s prank. Pfft, coffee expert my foot.

             In the midst of his irritation he vaguely noticed rose bushes dotting the expanse of the remarkably well-tended lawn, perfuming the humid air with their scent. At least there isn’t a lack of Eau de Roselle, he thought sourly. Shaking his soaking fringe out from his eyes like a disgruntled cat, Sungjong dropped his suitcase on the floor where it made a disgusting squelching sound. Subconsciously he was half hoping to charm the beast enough to let him go. If his charm works for both genders, then it could work on a…thing. Whatever it was supposed to be.

           The door swung open silently when Sungjong raised his fist to knock. Raising an eyebrow, he boldly strode inside and looked around at the deserted hall. He had seen more horror movies than he could count and this didn’t scare him the least bit. He almost took his words back when he turned around to come literally face-to-face with the beast.

           He yelped and hastily stepped back, glaring at the chuckling beast. “What? Do you think this is a horror movie or something?” He wanted to smack his own head when the words slipped out. Stupid, stupid, he chided himself, way to make an impression.

           Ignoring his rudeness, the beast looked him up and down obnoxiously. “Not too bad,” he murmured, “Seems like I made a good choice.” Waving a hand dismissively, he promptly proceeded to list the places Sungjong can and cannot go (the West Wing), the attire he should don (his suitcase is to go straight to the trash), his title (Myungsoo, not sir or anything else like darling) and the highlight of the awful day (dinner with him).

           Sungjong stood there a good 5 minutes after Myungsoo left, completely speechless. It was the first time someone dared to treat him like that. The worst part was that he couldn’t even find his vocal cords to tell Myungsoo to stuff his words up his .

           3 hours later Sungjong was curled up in front of the fireplace, still in his clothes and stomach growling noisily. “Sir?” the candelabra called Dongwoo asked anxiously, “Are you sure you don’t want to have dinner?”

           He merely grunted in response. “Not if I have to see his face.” He bit back, turning away. Sungjong would have loved to change and get into bed by now except that the only dry clothes in the room were all female clothes. He growled angrily, it must be that stupid furball’s idea of a prank.

           Right now he’d rather starve to death than go down for dinner, because the only thing he has left is his pride. No one orders Lee Sungjong around, ever.

           He ignored a pleading Dongwoo, eventually kicking him out (which means picking up the protesting metal stick and placing him outside) and falling into bed, damp clothes and all, as stubborn tears seeped out from under his eyelids.

__________________________

            Woohyun sighed in contentment as he approached his destination, smiling slightly at the thought of seeing his lover. Maybe it was a bit hypocritical of him to lecture Myungsoo when he fooled around with girls behind his lover’s back too, but he enjoyed their attention. He doesn’t consider it cheating when he didn’t actually do anything. It wasn’t his fault that he was blessed with good looks and charms, even if he was lacking in the modesty department.

            The Porsche drove up a winding road to the manor and he parked it carefully in the garage, patting its hood lovingly before he left. Does it count as cheating if he adores his car almost as much as his lover?

           Woohyun knocked on the door, the grin slipping off his face when the man answered. “What happened?” he asked in shock at the swollen eyes and blotchy face of his lover. His only response was a short sniff before he fell into Woohyun’s arms. Aw, now he felt like a prince in shining armour. Or was it knight? Whatever, some handsome dude who gets the girl just by stealing a kiss. So unlike the oh-my-god-everybody-help-red-alert-ert-ert shrieks in real life accompanying a molest charge.

            Back to reality, Woohyun wrapped his arms around the man and rocked him gently. “What happened, Sunggyu? I’ll be your fairy godmother and bibbidi bobbidy boo your way out of any mess.” As Sunggyu spilled his story out, Woohyun felt his heart sinking with every word.

            (“My princess! I let go of my darling treasure to that accursed prince of beasts and now he’ll never come back and it’s all my fault etc. etc.”)

           Yes, this is karma, definitely. Yes, he was the reason why Sungjong is gone, the reason why Sunggyu was in this state and essentially the cause of this mess. Yes, this will be the reason why Nam Woohyun will die at a young age when the truth comes out.

            Oh, hell.

            And he thought an angry Myungsoo was the worst of his troubles. Myungsoo + Sunggyu + Howon + Sungyeol + tentative Sungjong = potential of imminent death. Actually, that seems preferable compared to slow torture.

__________________________

            “Ugh, what?” Sungjong groaned irritably the next morning, squinting at the sudden sunshine that poured into his room.

            “Master Kim requests for your presence at breakfast, sir.” Dongwoo announced happily. Sungjong’s eye twitched in annoyance, is he still trying to order him around? Well, two can play that game.

            “I don’t feel well,” he blurted out abruptly, “I want to have my breakfast in bed.” When Dongwoo opened up his mouth to respond, he continued, “What if I faint on the way down? What if I get dizzy and tumble down the stairs? You’re supposed to take care of me, so if I die it’s going to be all your fault!” he finished dramatically, jabbing a finger at the dumbfounded candelabra.

            He smirked mentally, making a mental note to thank Uncle Woohyun for his lessons on manipulation one day. As long as he tells me to do something, I’m sure as hell going to do the exact opposite, Sungjong promised himself grimly. I might as well die knowing that I managed to get under his skin.

            The next few days saw Sungjong exploring the castle by himself and taking pains to avoid Myungsoo. He started coming in for meals, though he came in fashionably late, just to show him who’s boss. To his disconcertment, he noticed that Myungsoo always waited for him to start the meal and he had to squash the tendrils of guilt curling into his heart.

            It was exactly one week later than Sungjong cracked.

            He had practically memorised the entire castle by now. He had explored he entire garden and by now he could swear that if he smelled another whiff of Eau de Roselle, he was going to shoot himself. He had finally tried out Howon hyung's exercise methods when he climbed to the highest turret (Sungjong had seriously considered jumping off in a moment of insanity, just to know how it was like to fly) and down to the dungeons, which didn’t feel any different from his current predicament.

            He was an inch away from resorting to Sungyeol’s tactics of counting split ends just to ward off boredom. My makeup kit, he whimpered silently. I’m an idiot, a stupid, dumb, foolish –

            Sungjong straightened up excitedly. There is one more thing he could do. Obsidian eyes lit up devilishly at the prospect of venturing into the West wing. It was a big risk to his life but he had always loved danger. Who ever said that Sungjong was a good boy?