The vehicle he was traveling in hit a particularly rough patch of road and Chen was knocked up and out of his seat. He clenched his teeth in annoyance, braced his hand upward on the roof and endured it without so much as a sound.

Next to him, jostling around like it was second nature, and with a big smile splitting across his face, D.O. remarked, “You could at least try not to look like you’re going to your execution. I promise you, Commander Suho wouldn’t want to start a new war on your account.”

Chen glared at him. “That’s a comforting thought. Really.”

D.O. rolled his eyes and leaned forward to ask Suho in the front seat, “Can you just tell our guest of honor that he’s not being driven to his execution?”

Suho rolled his eyes and remarked loudly, “I wouldn’t start another war over something so trivial.”

Apparently they were all comedians.

Chen let his gaze slid away from the two K citizens nearest him. To say he wasn’t pleased to be going alone, back into K territory so soon after the end of the war, was saying the least. Or maybe it was just the thought of going home to K that scared him. In any case, he was hurdling towards the last place he wanted to be, and there was no escape.

Luhan had asked him specifically to go and act as M’s liaison, and to help Baekhyun hunt for clues to Mama’s impending doom. While Chen thought a diplomat, someone like Lay, was more suited for the task, he couldn’t have said no to Luhan no matter how much he wanted to. Luhan was more than just his friend now. Luhan was the king’s direct heir, and the royal consort. Saying no wasn’t an option.

“For the record,” Chen said, taking in the landscape around him, “I might not have chosen to come here of my own volition, but I recognize the importance of continuing to broker peace between our two people. More than that, especially after what happened with Sehun, it’s of the utmost importance that we make some kind of headway before the alignment.”

From near him, D.O. said, “It is a little weird to think that we’re about to have one of M’s elite in K’s central capital in a few hours. And for the record, you’re not the only one a little uncomfortable. If anything happens to you while you’re in our custody, your king is going to be crawling up our asses.”

Suho interjected, “You’re my personal guest, and that extends you a great deal of protection. Nothing will happen to you here. I gave your king my word, the same as he gave me his at the exchange.”

They were passing through what looked like a dilapidated town, filled with more dust and dirt than people. It was nothing like he’d experienced in M, especially living in the palace. He was well aware that K was struggling economically, and that the war had taken a heavy toll on the people, but he hadn’t suspected things to be quite so bad.

He found himself saying, “This is the third town we’ve passed through today, and the worst of them so far.” Chen turned back to D.O.. “Are things this bad everywhere?”

“Mostly,” Suho said for him. “It’s hard to be a farmer and a solider at the same time, and our citizens have had to make that choice for several years.”

“But I’ve never …” Chen trailed off, feeling slightly sick as he caught sight of a group of young, dirty, scavenging children. They were digging through the trash and Chen had never so much as heard of a M child going without a meal. Maybe it happened, but he’d never seen it.

D.O. scoffed, “You’re part of the king’s elite guard. You want me to honestly believe that you haven’t been in K at any point in the past ten years? This isn’t exactly a recent development, and M soldiers have been known to deliberately torch our fields to starve our people out. Children included.”

The vehicle made a sharp turn and Chen was thrown back in his seat. Through the rear window he could see the second military vehicle with the rest of their group, and even further back the recently acquired .

“It’s not in my designation,” Chen said dismissively, bringing his eyes away from the people on the streets.

“Designation?” D.O. asked, clearly confused.

Even Suho appeared to be uncertain, as he turned more fully in his seat to pay better attention. It was probably the first time Chen had seen him look away from the road ahead of them. Suho looked like he was so antsy to get there that he might shove their driver out of his seat at some point and take over.

“What are your responsibilities as a solider in K’s army?” Chen inquired of D.O.

D.O. rattled off, “To protect K’s right to independence, protect K’s people and protect our Commander. Those are the main three.”

“Those three?”

“Those three primarily,” D.O. confirmed. “Why?”

Chen held up three fingers and wiggled them a little. “You’re responsible for all three in K, but in M, those are three different components of our military. When a citizen enlists in the military they’re immediately sorted into one of three designations.”

Chen ticked off his first finger. “The first possibility for recently assigned soldiers is that they’re responsible for maintaining a combative force that is ready to march for war at any time. Essentially, they’re the standing army.” He continued, “The second group is the division dedicated to civil order. They maintain the security of M’s civilians. And the third, the one that I belong to, is assigned to guard the royal family. We take our designations without choice. And with very few exceptions, they don’t change.”

“And you’re a palace guard,” Suho prompted.

“Correct.” Chen nodded. “On my first week in the military, after graduating from my training period, I was assigned to the palace as protection for the royal family. My talents and ability got me assigned to the then prince’s guard. Because of that, I’ve never been away from the palace, and likely never would have, if not for these new circumstances.”

Suho questioned, “What about Tao? I know for a fact that he’s been in K territory before. He’s gone up against some of my men directly.”

“Tao is a special case,” Chen argued. “He’s the king’s personal protection. Whenever his majesty travels somewhere, Tao goes with him. And sometimes, preserving the king’s safety means eliminating threats that come too close to him. But in my case, I’m assigned to the palace and that’s where I stay, regardless of the state of the war.”

With an inquisitive frown, D.O. asked, “How did Tao actually get to his post? He’s barely past the age of maturity.”

“Your age of maturity,” Chen corrected. “In M, the age of legal maturity is much older, twenty, in fact. However, if you enlist in the military, you can become a recognized adult as young as sixteen. Enlisting gives you certain, early rights as a citizen. And neither does our system take into account seniority for posts like captain of the guard. That position is always occupied by the person best suited for it. I mean the strongest, the most capable, and the most relentless. Tao replaced the old captain of the guard because of his unique ability, his dedication, and his fierceness. That’s all it takes, and that’s why the position remains strong. Only the strongest can inherit it.”

Suho mumbled, “Seems ripe for betrayal.”

Chen understood what he meant, even if the words hadn’t been so clear, and he told the Commander, “You would think that this sort of system would allow for less than loyal subjects to slip through the cracks, but those of us assigned to the palace guard are vetted intensely and frequently. The door is also always open for those in M, who feel unhappy with the current state of things, to go to K.”

That was something that had always made an impact on Chen, and more importantly his decision to defect from K to M. The king of M certainly exercised control over the country, but it was a control over the behavior of the citizens, not the citizens themselves. Chen had seen a few, though only rarely, citizens leave M for K. The fact that they could, spoke volumes to him.

Chen said, “So, to go back to your original question, I haven’t been in K before this. And the three factions of M’s military are not as interwoven as you might imagine. Those of us at the palace don’t know much of what those at the war front are doing or seeing. The same can be said for the civil department of the military not understanding what goes on at the palace. I knew K was struggling during the war, but I didn’t know it was impoverished.”

“What did you expect?” D.O. wondered. “If your country was benefiting from the war, what did you think was happening to the other half of the war?”

At almost a mumble, Chen asked, “What about down in the south? By the coastline?”

D.O. paused, then said, “It’s the best at the capitol. But after that, the south had a chance of making it through the upcoming winter, if the war hadn’t been called off. The south coast’s citizens have always been able to rely more on the sea for their food, than the government.” Head cocked, D.O. asked, “Why?”

He couldn’t very well tell D.O. or Suho that his family was likely still in the south of K. They’d been there the last time Chen had seen them, his mother crying, his father angry, and his little sisters not understanding. His family wasn’t the type of move anywhere, or give up the parcel of land they’d worked hard to make their own. Chen suspected that if he made a detour down to the coastline he’d be able to find them exactly where they’d always been. And it comforted him to know they weren’t being starved to death by a needless war.

Maybe that was why he’d pushed to join the palace guard from the very start. Before the selection process had even started, he’d honed all of his skills, both with a sword and his ability, he made a show of his cleverness, his loyalty, and anything else that could be seen as an asset. He’d been half convinced from the start that they’d stick him on the frontlines of the war just to test his fortitude, given that he’d defected from K to M.

If Luhan, who’d known nothing about him at that moment, only that he’d come from K, hadn’t stuck his neck on the line vouching for him, he might have ended up anywhere but the palace.

If he’d ended up fighting in the war, instead of guarding the royal family, he would have already run the risk of seeing his family. Troops from M had been making their way down the coast of K towards the south for a while, that was public knowledge. He wasn’t ashamed that he was a solider in M’s military. He wasn’t ashamed his loyalty was to the king. But he would be ashamed if he ever had to hurt his family for whatever reason in deference to his new country. He wasn’t sure he could do it. Not even for his king, and that scared him. It was something he could never admit to anyone.

“No reason,” Chen eased out, sinking into his seat. “It’s not important.”

Before they reached the capital, having been on the road for a much longer amount of time than Chen had imagined it would take, Suho told him, “For the first couple of days you’ll be required to make several public appearance swith me, enforcing the fact that M and K are now a united front. You’ll shake some hands, mumble some apologies, but for the most part you’re here just for show. You won’t be expected to do much, and after the people have had a few days to get used to seeing you, you and Baekhyun will have a chance to slip away and go check out those caves.”

“I don’t think a lot of people will want to shake hands with me,” Chen said dully.

“Not the younger citizens,” Suho reasoned. “The younger generation, the one who’ve only grown up knowing war, are going to be angry for a long time about M and the war. But the older generation, our parent’s generation, they’ll remember a time when we weren’t trying to kill each other. They’ll accept you, and for the most part, they’re the only generation that matters right now. They’ll be proposing the candidates for the elections, they hold the majority of the land, and they’ll have the power in the emerging government. At least until they pass those positions and power onto their children in the future.”

He hadn’t missed that Suho said he’d have to make apologies. Before he left M, Luhan had warned him that he’d be spending a good deal of his time apologizing for something that wasn’t his fault. It was something he accepted, but it didn’t seem to make the words he was expected to say, taste any less sour.

When they arrived at the capitol, which was a full city looking more like Chen had expected than the barren, poverty stricken towns they’d passed through, they were greeted by a celebration already in progress.

Chen did his best to shake hands, keep to Suho’s side, and be as unrecognizable as possible. Of course that was hindered by his ceremonial uniform that he’d been required to wear. All the same, he made it into the actual building that was considered the hub of the capitol, without much fuss.

Quickly, as they walked down long hallways, D.O. explained, “The building is divided into two main areas. We work in the east wing. When we were at war, it was the central area for all of the information coming in and going out. It was a madhouse, for the most part. But the west wing, that’s where the higher ranked officers sleep. Commander Suho has quarters there, I do, and you’ll be put up there too.”

“If I’m the liaison from M to K, are you my personal liaison while I’m here?” It’d been something Chen was assuming almost from the start, given how D.O. had made Kai swap out his seat in the vehicle Chen had been assigned to, and D.O. hadn’t exactly left his side since they’d started out from the palace. D.O. had also been extremely attentive to his needs and questions.

“The Commander asked me to look after you,” D.O. said with a nod. “Probably just to make me feel useful. I’m a solider, Chen. It’s all I’ve ever known. But the war is over now, and I don’t have any other skills. If I wasn’t leading you around, I wouldn’t have much to do.”

Chen shrugged. There could have been a worse option. He could have been stuck with Kai, who seemed perpetually moody, or no at all. “Fair enough.”

He was delivered to a better room than he’d expected. It was a far cry from the room he slept in at the palace, but his new quarters were decent sized, with a nice looking bed, a communications terminal across the way, and it was fully furnished. Chen had been half expecting a cot and a lamp.

“Wow,” D.O. whistled out behind him. “This is nice.”

“Better than average?” Chen asked, laying his travel bag down on the bed. The carpet looked clean and new under his feet, and the walls were painted a comforting navy blue color.

“Way better,” D.O. said. “I don’t even think the Commander’s room is this nice. It must be important to him that we make a good impression.”

“He’s nervous, I bet,” Chen said, gesturing for D.O. to come in the room and close the door behind him. “It’s the same kind of nervous that his majesty felt while all of you were in his care. It’s a nervous feeling of responsibility. The war just ended and we have the peace treaty signed and authenticated, but the tiniest spark could set things off again. I’m here representing the king and his consort, almost as if they were here themselves. If anything happens to me, it’s like something happening to either of them.”

D.O. seemed afraid to touch anything in the room, from the nearby table with a decorative potted plant atop it, to the framed art on the wall. If anything the room gave Chen perspective on his own living situation back in M, and the living conditions the rest of K had.

“That’s probably why the Commander said to stick to you like glue. Hey,” D.O. said, almost a little excited, “You control lightening, don’t you?”

Chen let his head dip. “And you’re …”

“Less impressive,” D.O. relayed, seemingly becoming a little more relaxed. “I can manipulate the ground under our feet. It’s not very useful.”

“Not yet,” Chen argued. “But give K some time to recover from the war. Eventually you’ll be incomprehensibly important to getting food production back up. You ever think about that?”

D.O. was staring hard.

“What?” Chen asked, pausing. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

D.O. crossed his arms. “I’m staring because I didn’t see it at first, but I do now. Rather, I didn’t hear it until now.”

Slowly, Chen asked, “Hear what?”

“Your accent.”

Chen sat hard on the bed.

“Were you lying when you said you’d never been to K?” D.O. stalked forward. “Because you can hide a K accent pretty well when we’re speaking in the M dialect, but we’re using standard right now, and it’s very clear. So fess up.”

Was there some believable lie he could tell quickly? Was there some way to hide the truth?

“Chen?”

“D.O.,” Chen returned. “What are the chances I could get you to stop asking questions this very moment?”

“Little to none,” D.O. said honestly, switching from standard to K’s dialect. “Especially since you elongate your vowels once in a while, which is a clear sign that you’re from the south. People from the far south have been elongating their vowels since before K and M went to war. And you were asking about the south earlier. Fess up. Are you a secret double agent?”

At that, Chen couldn’t help laughing. He’d actually heard that theory posed more than a few times, by almost everyone who’d found out in his early days in M that he was from K. After which he’d gotten a lot better at hiding where he was from, and making up a new history for himself, but it seemed to be a prevailing theory.

“I’m not,” Chen said honestly. “I’m officially an M citizen, I’m loyal to M and my king, and nothing will ever change that.”

“But?” D.O. prompted.

Chen sighed. “I was born in the south of Exo. When the war happened, I chose the side that I most believed in. That just happened to be M.”

“You’re from K originally,” D.O. said, sounding a bit dumbfounded.

“Technically I was born in a time when K and M were simply Exo united. I made my choice to go to M when the war was weeks old. I can say with confidence that I was a citizen of K for no longer than it took to travel from K to M.”

“Why?” D.O. took a seat in a nearby chair. “Why would you give up the freedom that K offers its people? K fought M so that we could have fair representation in the government, pick our own leader, and have autonomy. We fought for freedom from oppression.”

Chen said immediately, “What you call oppression, I call security. I don’t agree with everything that M’s monarchy chooses to do, but both the deceased king, and the new one, have always put the people first. Monarchy is the system of government that I personally believe works the best, and I’ve had years to affirm that. I don’t need to elect a ruler of my choice when the one that M currently has, has been groomed from birth to anticipate others needs before his own. His majesty will do what benefits his people socially, economically, and politically. The system of confidence in M doesn’t allow for anything else. As long as the ruler is just, I follow the ruler.”

D.O. offered, his hands up in the air, “I just don’t get it. Honestly.”

“Some men want to make their own way, to find their own purpose,” Chen said simply. “And some men believe that the way that is set for them is already filled with purpose.”

“And that’s enough for you?” D.O. wondered critically.

Chen replied, “I wouldn’t have dedicated my life to protecting M’s monarchy if I believed anything less.’

Tentatively, D.O. asked, “Do you want to see your family? Is that why you agreed to come here to K?”

“No.” Chen stood slowly from the bed and began to unpack his things. As a part of the palace’s elite guard, the one responsible for direct contact with the royal family, he’d had his own servant assigned to him for the better part of the day, almost from the start of his service. He’d never needed to unpack his own clothing before, but something told him that same help wouldn’t be offered in K. K’s economy wasn’t strong enough to support a domestic servant class just yet. At least not one that would be paid as well as the servants at the palace were.

“Why not?”

His back to D.O., Chen found himself saying, “My parents are a lot like you, D.O.. They were dissatisfied with the lack of control in their lives when Exo was united. They wanted more freedom and more choice. They didn’t want monarchy, they wanted democracy. I respected that, but they had a hard time respecting that my choice was different from theirs. We didn’t part on the best of terms. I came here to K because my king asked me to, and because I want the peace as much as you do. I want to have kids some day, and I don’t want them to grow up like I did, fearing that they’ll have to kill or be killed over a difference of opinion.”

“You’re not going to see them at all?”

Chen forced a smile and told D.O., “I don’t. I was just a kid when I left. I was barely old enough to make the choice to leave. My sisters are all grown up now, my parents have probably forgotten me and had more children. It would be pointless.”

With a whistle D.O. got to his feet and walked to the door. “I don’t know. They’re your family. Even if you parted on bad terms, and even if it’s been a long time, they still might want to see you. I’d want to see my family after so long.”

“D.O.,” Chen called out, before he could leave. “I’d prefer to keep my origins from the others. For personal reasons.”

D.O. shrugged. “Okay. I’m going to go get changed. Commander Suho is scheduled to make a speech about his time spent in M and the peace treaty he signed. He’ll introduce you as his special guest and the foreign dignity you are so that hopefully you’ll be accepted, or at the least left alone. Baekhyun will likely come get you for that, but I’ll see you there.” He stopped, raised an eyebrow and asked, “Is there anything you need before I go?”

“I’m fine,” Chen assured, then jerked a thumb towards the communications terminal. “I can get through to M with that, right? I need to report in.”

“It’s encrypted and safe,” D.O. said, then slipped out of the room.

Chen didn’t waste any time pulling at his ceremonial uniform jacket, brushing off some of the dust he’d picked up on it from the journey. He’d probably be expected to wear it later that night when Suho gave his speech, so getting the dust out was a must. But quickly after that he the terminal across the room and found a connection immediately to M.

As promised, Xiumin had been waiting for his call.

“How was the trip?” the older man asked. His cheeks were full and he looked especially happy, which probably meant Luhan wasn’t giving him too much trouble.

Chen found himself grinning at Xiumin. “I spent two days in a stuffy, small space with several people I’m not comfortable with, and spent a night sleeping against a window. How do you think the trip was?”

“You do seem cranky,” Xiumin laughed.

“How about you?” Chen returned. “You look less stressed than usual. Is Luhan behaving himself?”

Xiumin said, “Believe it or not, Sehun is having a calming influence on him.”

It wasn’t that Luhan had ever been hyper, or hard to handle, but he was headstrong, and often set in his ways. When he decided on a goal, there was very little that could be done to change his mind, and Chen had spent years watching Xiumin chase after Luhan, trying to get him to slow down, or take more precautions.

With the recent development of the intensity in Luhan’s visions and dreams, things had been even more hectic. Luhan was determined to figure out what it all meant, even at the cost of his own health. For someone like Xiumin, who’s one and only priority was keeping Luhan safe, it was asking a lot.

“How so?”

Xiumin explained, “Luhan’s got consort duties now, which means placating people in the palace and more charity work, and helping his majesty handle the council. The week of mourning just ended for the previous king’s death, and Luhan can’t shut himself away in the palace anymore. Sehun is someone that Luhan can lean on in that way. He’s already introduced Sehun to the court, and he’s sharing his workload with him in a way. I think Sehun might even be distracting him from his visions, which is what we need more than anything.”

“You sure about that?” Chen asked. “The last thing I want is Luhan getting hurt, even with Lay there. But even I can’t deny that his visions give us the most information in the shortest amount of time.”

“It’s not worth it,” Xiumin said right away, almost angrily. “I’m not letting him have another vision if I can help it.”

The reality was Xiumin really couldn’t. Luhan had been able to trigger his visions in the past, but they did also happen all on their own. A vision wasn’t something Xiumin could stop or protect Luhan from.

“I take it you’re not letting him touch what Sehun found, then.”

“Not a chance.”

Chen hadn’t been there, not when Sehun had been found and then quickly lost again. Instead Chen had been searching the entertainment district of the city that Luhan suspected Sehun might have disappeared to after being so infatuated with it the day before.

But Chen had been present the second Sehun had practically popped out of the life tree, waving his hand down at them, something tucked safely into his fist. It was another twenty minutes before Sehun was safely back on the ground and he was able to explain that he’d fallen through some of Mama’s thinner bark, to a well hidden cavern deep in the life tree.

Bluntly, Chen told Xiumin, “Is it really what we thought it was?” When Xiumin nodded, Chen pressed, “How is that possible?”

“I don’t know, and neither does Luhan, but he’s been pressing to get his hands on it. He said he’s supposed to keep it safe, but I think that’s just a lie so I’ll hand it over.”

“And what does Sehun say?”

“That he was compelled,” Xiumin sighed out. “That he woke up in the morning and felt like he had to go to the life tree or that something terrible was going to happen. He climbed because he was supposed to. Because he had to save it.” Xiumin made a sour face. “It’s possible that Luhan is supposed to keep it in his custody, considering how he’s tied to Mama and her life tree, but he just got his health back. I don’t want to risk it. The idea of Mama compelling people to do things, really unsettles me, Chen.”

“If Luhan wants it, he’s going to go after it. Where are you keeping it?”

Xiumin leaned a little closer to the camera feed. “Under lock and key in the treasury. Hopefully Sehun can keep Luhan distracted enough that he won’t think about it too much.” A second later, Xiumin added, “Luhan does seem distracted in general.”

“Something is bothering him?”

“I don’t know,” Xiumin said. He cleared his throat and said, “I’m glad that Sehun got to stay at the last second over Chanyeol. Chanyeol seemed nice, but Sehnn’s different. He’s not military, and he and Luhan are developing a real friendship. That’s the kind of relationship that’ll make a difference in the end.”

Chen rested an elbow on the table in front of him. “Is that your way of kindly telling me to play nice and make friends?”

“You are nice,” Xiumin said right away. “But making friends wouldn’t hurt.”

“Make friends,” Chen repeated. “Sure.”

“It’s not forever,” Xiumin laughed out. “You’ll be back home before you realize it. At least as soon as K has their first party primaries . And then his majesty will send someone over who actually wants the post of liaison. Just grin and bear it until then, okay?”

Chen waved him off. “Okay, okay. Now please report to his majesty that I’m here, everyone is safe and that I’d really appreciate a care package of some soap if possible. Nice soap.” Chen looked around the room. “They made a big show of giving me a high end room, but I have a feeling that the basic amenities are going to be hard to come by until K gets back up on its feet.”

“You really want me to include that last part?”

Chen smiled. “Maybe the first part should go to his majesty, and the last to Luhan?”

“Got you,” Xiumin said, waving at Chen. “Call me again tomorrow. Same time. I’ll keep you updated on my end, you do the same on yours. And be careful. Not everyone there is going to be happy to see you. If anything happens to you while you’re there, the repercussions are going to be bad.”

Chen ended the call almost right after that, stretching his arms up and leaning back in his seat. He wasn’t happy to be back in K, but Xiumin was right. It wouldn’t be forever, and he needed to make the best of a bad situation.

There was a nice, clean looking bathroom attached to his room, with white towels hanging on racks near the shower, and a quick test of the water showed it was warm. That was something. It would be nice to change his clothing and scrub himself clean. It was hard to tell, but he didn’t think he smelled all that great.

He was second from pulling off his shirt, the water running behind him, when a knock came to his door. Groaning in annoyance he made his way to it, opening it sharply. “Yes?”

Flatly, Suho said, “I’ve caught you at a bad time, obviously.”

Chen leaned a little on the door. “I was about to take a shower.”

Without preamble Suho said, “I wanted to check on you. How are you finding your accommodations?”

Chen said simply, “Come in,” then he left the main room to shut off his shower.

“I won’t keep you long,” Suho said when Chen returned to the main room.

“Look,” Chen said before Suho could manage anymore. “I know you’re under the assumption that I’m pampered. Commander, I won’t deny that my quarters at the palace are very nice. Likely nicer than anything you have to offer in K. But I don’t think myself privileged or expectant. All I need is a bed and I’m fine. This is more than enough. I’m here to work, and to help M and K however I can. The room I have isn’t my greatest concern.”

Suho gave wordless nod, clearly pleased.

“And,” Chen added, suddenly remembering a promise he’d made shortly before leaving, “now that I have you in private, I have something for you.” It was a quick few steps to his bag still on the bed, and from it he withdrew a square, perfectly white envelope. There was gold embellishment on it and a precise flourish of ink that could have only been possible after several years of practice. “I was asked to give you this the first chance I had you alone.”

“What is it?” Suho asked, reaching for it. “Any messages should be routed through my personal channel. It’s protected.”

“This is …” Chen broke off to admire the envelope one last time. Then he admonished, “It’s not just a message. This is tradition.”

“Tradition.” Suho turned the envelope over. “Wait.” Suho looked up sharply at Chen. “Is this a formal request for courtship?”

“I’m surprised,” Chen said honestly. “And you’ve just given some of your very mysterious past away. Only someone raised in the palace, or very near it, would be familiar with this tradition.”

Almost at a grumble, Suho admitted, “My parents worked in the palace for a good amount of my childhood. But I’ve only seen one of these in person. Only one.”

“This is from Lay,” Chen said almost gently. “He’s the head of his family, so it falls to him to make the request. He’s obviously found something in you that he likes, and so this is the result.”

Suddenly Suho was holding the envelope almost reverently. “I thought there might be something between us, but we’re not well matched.”

“No?” Chen asked. “Lay begs to differ. Look, if you’re interested, send a reply. If not, Lay will understand. He’s not one to hold a grudge, either, so you don’t have to worry about cooperating with him in an official capacity later on if things go sour. But just so you know, Lay is what you might consider a very eligible bachelor. He’s very well educated, powerful, handsome, kind, wealthy and he’s got the kind of temperament you’d want in a partner. I’ve seen Lay reject several offers for courtship over the years, and this is the first time I’ve seen him extend one. Anyone would consider themselves flattered.”

“This is his family crest?” Suho asked, flipping the envelope to the back. “It’s … surprisingly similar to my own.”

As Chen walked Suho to the door, he reminded, “Lay is my friend. You should keep that in mind, too. My very good friend. I don’t want to be known as the guy who single handedly restarted the war between K and M, Commander.”

Suho’s eyebrows rose. “Noted.”

Chen shrugged, “But as his friend as well, I think I see what he likes in you. You have a lot of admirable qualities, most importantly you’re honorable. Lay is someone who’s steeped in tradition, duty and honor. Those things mean a great deal to him. So maybe you think you’re ill matched, but I don’t share that sentiment.”

When Suho was gone Chen let himself lean back against the door. He didn’t exactly know what Lay thought he was doing, offering courtship to the Commander of K, but at the very least it would be a good show.

And as he stepped into the shower, dipping his head under the spray to let the warmth rush over him, he never felt more firm in his earlier words to Suho about his accommodations. Luxury wasn’t a concern of his. It didn’t matter if he had a fully furnished room to sleep in. He didn’t plan to be in K long enough to want for anything like that. He was perfectly fine as he was, tiny bathroom in all.

At least until the water ran cold less than five minutes later.