A nightingale hummed a sweet melody, welcoming the dawn of midnight. The small creature skipped on a fragile branch and tweeted its composition enjoyably. It was soon joined by another of its kind. The two golden avian met on the topmost branch on the tree where the first nightingale occupied. They took off into the starry night sky, waltzing their way between the trees and the clouds, closing in into each other when they were bathed in the moonlight. The summer wind slipped between the pair and hissed its very own harmony to their love song.

A promising full moon watched over the nightingale as they began to journey to the depth of the woods to build their own lovers’ nest. As if it was curious, the pure planet sneak a peek through a slightly opened window. Behind the extravagantly sculpted window was a room with equal artistry. Pillars of extreme heights supported the gold plated ceiling. Mystical creatures were made alive on the sides of the pillars. Luxurious pottery and furniture had found their perfect location in the spacious suite. Passing through a waterfall of rose red curtains on the other side was like an experience in a fairytale. The journey would take you into a room where more rose red silks hung lightly about the ceiling. Scented candles lined up on the two sides of the room, giving the room a sweet chrysanthemum scent and a misty haze.

Servants hurried cross and across the small room, some holding boxes of wedding gifts and placing them in the cupboards or setting it up as another piece of priced furniture. One of them, a young eunuch named Wookie, was attending a figure which was seated on the newly-made bed, in which the white silky linen was allowing five beautifully shaped fingers to run through it. The owner of the fingers wore a fiery red gown along with a golden stash. Pined elegantly on the figure’s elaborate hairstyle were more golden ornaments.

At this moment, Wookie was about to take off the piece of silk which had been covering an extremely breathtaking face, which, ironically, did not have the beaming smile one should be expected to have drawn on the face on one’s wedding night. The once brilliant auburn eyes were fogged with tears, which some went streaming across the canvas of the beautifully made-up face.

Heechul remembered the exact scene when he helped out for his sister’s first wedding night. Unma was busy saving the tiny hole on the wedding nightclothes from termite bites while he was running around the tiny space they called a room. He was four at that time, not having the slightest clue to why Noona was crying and why his mother had a solemn face. Getting married, to him at that time, was supposed to be fun and happy and joyful. Heechul had loved weddings, since it was red everywhere and firecrackers were so much fun. Not to mention the food were always great. He still remembered telling his mum innocently that he would have a wedding just like Heejin noona’s.

He did not know, then, that they were actually marrying her off to that bloat of fat that could be called a man so to lessen their financial burden on a daughter. But he never knew the next victim would be him. In terms of a litter of mice, he was the smallest of the batch. Heechul were never in the best condition to carry out heavy labour work, or even strenuous exercise. He could not play ball nor help out in the farmlands since he had a breathing problem. His legs were weak, he would trip easily even when he walked. But Mother was fascinated by this when he was first presented to her. Though Heechul was taken to the best doctor in town and had his breathing problems improved, she still took his condition as a marketing strategy, and he debuted as “the gem of attention”.

But what attention did he get? Constant abuse and ual assault. If the Gods ever give him another chance to choose his life, he would never choose this damnable path. He would never experience such pains, he would never have met those horrible men, he would never have met Choi-gwiha, he would never fall in love with him. He would not be sitting like a dead statue and staring blankly at the pale moon.

Why was he looking back to his past? Was it because he is closing in to his end, like how the priests always say your life flash in front of you right before you die? It did not matter to Heechul, he was no different to dying right now.

Another servant hovered in front of him with another scented candle. Heechul frowned a bit. It was never to his taste to have incense in his room. But the smell of the chrysanthemum at this moment smoothed his racing heart and comforted his confused mind. Heechul remembered telling Choi-gwiha that he really missed the rich chrysanthemum scent from where he came. What gave the emperor the very right to use chrysanthemum-scented candles and intrude into his personal memory with Choi-gwiha?

Heechul wanted to yell in agony. He cursed under his breath the freedomless life he was trapped in. He cursed the gods above for giving him such miserable life. Just because he could never inherit his father’s limited property, just because he took up such sinful occupation, just because he could never contribute to the country by giving birth to a prince, he never deserve such life. As if his destiny was to never have him experience love, why did every time when he truly felt he was loved he would always be cruelly abandoned? A voice inside him reminded him that he might as well accept this situation. After tonight he would belong to the emperor, and he would be separated from his Choi-gwiha for eternity.

“…Your Highness? Your Highness?” It sounded like Wookie. A sweet child, his manservant, Wookie was, with the face of an innocent child, untainted by the complication of wicked reality. Heechul felt diminished and pathetic besides the pure creature.

“Your Highness?”

Silence was the ultimate response. Heechul was not in the mood to talk.

“Um, his majesty has ordered us to blindfold you when we are done with the preparations.”

The moon held high, just like two months ago. The pale moon disgusted every cell in him. The reminder of the love repelled him. At once last glance at the seemingly smirking planet Heechul found himself covered in redness. The repulsive of the celebrative colour flooded his vision. The irony of eternal imprisonment.

A voice announced the dreaded moment, “The emperor has arrived!” Heechul saw shadows moving around and heard a chorus of “Your Majesty!” The majesty muttered an inaudible command and the shadows moved once more. After the shadows were gone with muffled sounds of fabric hustling, a black spot remained in his view. The black spot slowly diffused through the fabric. The end was here.

Goodbye, dear life.

Goodbye, dear freedom.

Goodbye… dear Choi Siwon.

As the emperor’s presence slowly near him, a tingle of familiarity crept through Heechul. The emperor was most likely one of his clients in the past. Heechul remembered each and every one of the aura around his past clients. The emperor himself was no exception. But this familiarity was beyond the usual body-to-body exchange sensation. This body never touched him; the aura of protectiveness was familiar yet strange at the same time.

An arm wrapped itself lightly around Heechul’s waist as a pair of lips gently covered his. Heechul could not move a muscle, he was too shocked to cooperate with the kiss. The familiar gentleness was too real for him to believe, like a scene in a dream he had dreamt of too much. Even as the lips parted, Heechul could not relieve himself from the impact.

He felt his blindfold was untied. As the fabric slid down his sleek face, the first thing he saw was the very pair of shibrows which changed his life forever.

“Oh no!” Heechul broke into tears.

“What is it, Heechul?” the emperor panicked. He reached out and pulled the teary man into a tight embrace. Heechul held tightly onto his clothes, as if its owner would leave him.

Never in his life had Heechul felt so happy. One minute he thought he would be losing everything, the next minute he was shedding happy tears on the very shoulder of the man he loved. 

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