Junmyeon ducked behind a fruit stall, chest heaving. He was dressed only in his underclothes, having quickly shed the trappings of his station as a mob stormed the estate of aristocrat he wast staying with. He would not be beheaded simply for the station he was born to. He yelped then, as a shadow towered over him.

“You look cold, sir.”

Junmyeon sighed, the only other Korean visiting the French court was Chanyeol. The two of them had stuck out like sore thumbs. “I am, but Chanyeol what are you doing here?”

“When I heard that the estate was sacked, I assumed the one was at was next.” Chanyeol’s face was grim, “I was correct.”

“, these French are barbarians.”

“Fortunately, sir,” Chanyeol said as he helped Junmyeon stand, “the English are not and I have secured passage with a man calling himself the Scarlet Pimpernel.”

Junmyeon snorted, “Ah yes, the flower man, well we have a better chance of living with him than staying here.”