Gehenna; Tower Seven
Jongno District

“You’re visiting us, huh? You’re probably going to miss us so much after working at The Palace. So, how was it? Was it as boring as I imagined it would be?”

Taemin plopped down next to him at the lunch table. The table was vacant of any other guards or residents. Maybe because the look on Minho’s face had scared them off. Good. He was in no mood to talk.

Taemin was oblivious to all of this as he reached across to steal a carrot stick off of Minho’s plate, dipping it in some sort of cream sauce the kitchen ladies had whipped up and sticking it in his mouth. He violently shuddered for a moment, his face pinched and distressed before he shrugged and continued to chew. “Spoiled milk. I’m pretty sure they used spoiled milk for that. Gives it a….tang.”

“I’m sure.”  Minho offered, his mind scattered as he stared in front of him. It was a bulletin board. Usually they stuck volunteer jobs on that board. There were none for Gyeongbokgung Palace. At least he hadn’t been fired.

“So, were you visited by the Ghost of Christmas past last night or have we all been led astray by the rumors of our youth? Now that I think about it, it makes no sense that a ghost would occupy an abandoned building. I’m sure they say ghost are lonely, but that doesn’t mean they seek out loneliness, you know what I mean? If I were a ghost, I’d haunt an amusement park. Like, I would scare the out of babies on the Dumbo ride or make grown men piss their pants at Space Mountain. I wouldn’t be in a damn empty Palace, that’s for sure.”

“There were no ghost,” Minho muttered.

“Huh. Really? No ghost you say?”

“Not Casper, not Bloody Mary, not even Stay Puft The Marshmallow Man. No, ghost.”

“Then why, my friend,” Taemin said as he craned his head low towards Minho, “do you look like you’ve seen one?”

“Because I saw something worse than that.”

Taemin snickered. “What could be worse than seeing a ghost? Besides not being able to keep it up––which…was totally not a problem I had last night.”

Taemin opened his mouth, ready to lay out the sordid details of a date that Minho probably wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anyways when a guard approached them. He wasn’t a Tower Guard. He knew all of the Tower guards, from one to ten, he knew each and every last one of them. This guy he didn’t know. His uniform didn’t match either. His outfit mirrored the soldiers from last night and Minho felt him mouth go dry.

Theo’s guards. 

“Choi Minho?” He asked as hovered over their table.

Taemin looked up, his eyes wide as he took in the soldier, his rigid stance and the no nonsense look on his face. His hand hovered over the grip of his pistol as if he were counting on Minho making a move or running. Slowly, Minho rose to his feet and turned to face the guard.

“That is me.”

The guard nodded. “The Commander wants to see you.”

“Commander?” Taemin’s mouth dropped open in surprise before his lips pressed together into a thin defiant line. “You mean THE Commander?” Taemin asked, his glare centered on the guard.  Minho tried not to let Taemin’s panic affect his nerves, which were approaching frayed and almost useless. “Why–why would he need to see him? What’s going on? Is he in trouble?” The guard ignored him so Taemin stood. “Hey! Answer me!”

“Taemin,” Minho hissed.

People in the lunch room were starting to look at them and that was the last thing Minho wanted. He had no clue what was going to happen to him. Did he want what could possibly be his friend’s and co-worker’s last image of him to be one where he was upset and insolent?

No. Minho wanted to appear calm.

He put a hand on Taemin’s shoulder, forcing him back to sitting. “Remember what I told you to do if anything like this happened?”

Taemin’s eyes darted left and then right and back again as he tried to think. Then the confusion cleared and he looked up at Minho with confidence. “Call your father.”

“Right,” Minho said as he motioned to the guard to lead the way.  “Tell him I might not be coming home tonight.”



“You’re so obviously a second son. Explains a lot. Only second sons are this reckless.”

Minho sat in a room that he imagined would scare the out of the toughest of men. It was stately, refined, and very cold. The room smelled of rich mahogany with a layer of potpourri lingering over it. He identified a few of the smells–– dried apples, roses and cinnamon. It wasn’t a particularly magical combination of scents and it did nothing to ward off the feeling of stones in the bottom of Minho’s stomach.

He wondered if Theo did that on purpose.

Minho thought of a million things he could say. Most of them included begging for his life as soon as he hit the door. It was well known that it didn’t take much to antagonize Theo. A guard running around with a resident of Gehenna sounded raw enough to draw Theo’s ire. There were people in Gehenna locked away from the world, simply because they didn’t fit some standard of beauty. Minho’s crime, as idyllic and childish as it may have been, was far worse.

The questions Minho had about just who he was running around with frightened him even more.

“Your father’s name is Choi Yunkyum. Works at the labor district, the one that operates the dome? By choice, it seems. Your mother is an au pair in Eden. That’s not a lot of money…” Theo stated, his fingers rubbing his chin. “I should know. My own grand-mère was an au pair. She raised me by herself, you see, so you could imagine there wasn’t a lot of money in our house. I’m gathering you help your parents with their burden?”

“Yes–yes, sir.”

Theo leaned forward, the soggy end of a cigar perched between his two lips. “That’s what I like about second sons. You’re foolhardy, too brave for your own good. But you understand loyalty. Loyalty, Minho, is the quintessential factor that makes this all work. Not like a cog in the wheel, but the wheel itself. This city and eventually this country cannot move forward without that wheel, barreling through the obstacles of the idiotic and stubborn. Loyalty,” Theo said, his voice low as he stared two holes through Minho, “…is what keeps you alive.”

Minho could do nothing but nod.

“To the matter of hand: Onew. That’s why you are here.”

Minho nodded again. That much he knew already. Still, Minho leaned forward in his chair. As much as he’d thought about the eventual outcome of his actions last night his thought mostly strayed on the strange man named Onew.

Strange was an optimal word. And he didn’t mean in the non-traditional sense, the way that someone speaks about a crush––they are strange in a quirky melodic way that makes your heart thump faster when you describe why they like their peanut butter on cucumber slices. No. Onew was strange. Not ghostly strange, human strange. Strange strange.

It was captivating. 

That sort of innocence was a rarity, lost between the pages of disillusion and reality, of what dreams, the dream, were supposed to be. When they were kids they dreamed of the freedom that came with adulthood, a house they liked, a job they loved, a significant other to hold and to cherish. It was a naiveté that cost many of them more than they were willing to count.

Onew didn’t seem to have that apprehension. Theo scared him, observation would tell you that but still, that gullibility, to smile so freely, was something that Minho was jealous of. Even with all of the color in Eden, Minho was jealous of a man washed in white.
More than likely a noble washed in white.

There were no more royals. They told them there were no more royals.

His attention snapped back to the man in front of him when he plopped a file down in front of him. “Your new assignment. Starting tomorrow but you will report to your post immediately.”

Minho frowned. “Sir?”

“Kibum cannot keep an eye on Onew by himself, nor do I want him to continue to try. Onew needs two sets of eyes. He is acquainted with you, likes you if I even dare to presume and for that very reason you are the perfect candidate. Kibum, his attendant, recommended him.”

“I don’t understand. Who is Onew? Why is Onew so special? Why isn’t he lock––“ Minho cut himself off. The phrase ‘locked up’ was never to be used in Theo’s presence. “Why doesn’t he reside in one of the Towers?”

“Because I don’t want him to be,” Theo said, simply, his hands folding under his chin. “But if you absolutely need an explanation, here it is. He’s nobody, really, but there are some I do treat with privilege. Onew is one of those people. That’s why I was so very pleased to find someone like you. Someone willing to tolerate his quirks. Him remaining happy is very important to me.”

Minho tried to keep the frown off his face. It made more sense that Theo had people he considered special, privileged and took care of them.

Still, the fact that Kibum had called him Highness.

Minho shook his head. Occam’s razor. The simplest answer is more than likely the correct one. It made more sense to consider Onew a special pet of Theo’s than to consider him some lost royal that had been hidden away from the entire city. That’s madness, a conspiracy that he didn’t want to subscribe to. Plus, if Onew were a royal, a Lee Royal at that, then there would be no more storms. There were still storms, so therefore, Onew was just a simple man indulging in the finery of Kings.

That made sense. Still…he couldn’t shake the feeling…

“Your assignment is a short one,” Theo said as he ashed his cigar. “Just until the end of the year. At that time, he will be transferred back to Eden…as a gift.  During that time you will reside in Gyeongbokgung Palace as his personal guard.  There are people who want to use him in ways I can’t accept and I can’t have that. If you do this correctly, I will find a job for you outside of The Towers, maybe oversee an exception for you to enroll in school. Also a supplemental pay has also been created for you. Three times what you made as a palace guard, four times what you made as a Tower guard.”

The reward seemed too generous to watch one man. Minho didn’t understand.

“Oh, another thing.”

Minho paused.

“You are not to tell a soul about this assignment.”

“Wouldn’t dare to, sir,” Minho said, collecting his things and standing. “Is there anything else?”

Theo leaned back in his chair, the corner of his mouth inching up his face like a crack in the foundation. “Yes. Don’t get attached.”




Gyeongbokgung Palace
Five and a half months before December 14th


Minho’s official duties didn’t begin until the morning so he spent most of the day wandering around The Palace. The Inner Court was far different from the Outer Court, in terms of upkeep. The maintenance of the Outer Court was preserved like it was a museum. Everything was orderly, immaculate, intact, pure without the oily residue of human contact. There were no plants, or flowers. Under the bridge that led to back towards the main gate was dry, the earth cracked and weathered, as if it hadn’t seen water for weeks.
To gain access into the Inner Court, they gave Minho a special key that unlocked The King’s Gate.

When he pushed open the doors, he gasped. Gehenna was a dead, grey place. He expected the gloom. It greeted him the moment the buses traveled into the city. Repressive because that’s how it was built to be. A constant reminder of imagined sins against a commander who demanded absolute dedication to his vision.

But as he walked into Gangnyeongjeon’s courtyard, Minho felt like he was dreaming. The Inner Court was alive. Even Eden wasn’t this alive. There was green everywhere. Plants, trees, and flowers painted the area in an array of colors. It was nothing like what Minho had seen in his text books, the black and white buildings with a dull grey in the background. Not even when the Royal Family lived here had it ever been described like this.

“It’s all Onew,” came a voice to his left.

Minho followed the sound of the voice and found Onew’s court attendant Kibum standing there, his hands full. He took a few steps closer, his hanbok the same blinding white as Onew’s from before. “It’s so green because of Onew. Plants seem to love him. Animals too. You’ll see a few of them hanging around Gangnyeongjeon. I’m not sure how they get in here but we can’t get them to go away.”
It sounded like something right out of a Disney flick.  He half expected birds to swoop down from the sky with a welcome banner to greet him.

Kibum nodded with his head and turned towards Gangnyeongjeon. “There isn’t much. No court ladies, no retainers, no legions of scholars. Just to the two of us. Most of Onew’s meals are prepared in Tower Two.”

Minho’s mouth rounded. “Ah. Where the high ranked ex-political figures stay. I guess the food from there would be pretty good.”

“Theo not only likes to keep his enemies close but he likes to fatten them up for slaughter.”

Minho brows dipped. Maybe there was something to Jonghyun’s execution lottery?

“It was a joke,” Kibum said dryly after he noticed Minho’s concern. “Theo only executes royals! The rest he likes to keep around until they rot to death. It’s really quite endearing.” Kibum flashed a tight smile before he turned for the stairs that led to the King’s Quarters.

“You probably read up real well in school about The Palace and all but just in case you’ve forgotten anything in that big pretty head, the King’s Quarters are here and the Queen’s are behind it after you pass through the gate.” Kibum paused to climb the stairs to the platform right in front of the King’s Quarters.

“The Queen’s are empty for now, but you’re free to use it for…push-ups…sit ups, I don’t know what you guard people do. Seunguri used it to listen to music and drink. That’s why he’s no longer allowed back here. The last guard, some guy named Leifong…Beifong something––I really really don’t know where they are getting these people from, you’d think they were guarding a mahjong table and not––“ Kibum paused and pressed his lips together.

The words Kibum didn’t say burned on the tip of Minho’s tongue. A royal.

“Anyways. There is only one place that is off limits––Hamwonjeon. It’s the building with the bright red roof right outside of the Queen’s quarters. They used to use it for Buddhist events and prayers but fifteen years ago it was marked as holy grounds. Only a few people are allowed in there.”

“Let me guess, Onew is one of them?”

Kibum walked into the building and placed the tray down before he turned towards Minho. “Well aren’t you a smart cookie!” he drawled. “Did they get you fresh out of Eden? You know Eden folk are supposed to be really smart.”

It was the first time, in a long time he’d heard his residency in Eden being used against him. It threw him off. But it wasn’t like he didn’t understand it. Despite his family’s relative lower middle class standing, one that tiptoed on the edge of poverty with every paycheck, he knew he was still better off than most of Gehenna. That was common sense. But––

“I’m guessing you aren’t from Eden.”

Kibum pursed his lips. “No, not from Eden. But I’m not from Gehenna either.”

That made Minho paused. “How can you not be from Gehenna or Eden? It’s an either or situation around here. It’s not like they allow people to travel much around here.”

“Eden and Gehenna are creatures of The Reformations. Before that I was a citizen of Seoul. I am still a citizen of Seoul, since I live in neither Gehenna nor Eden.”

“The Palace is IN Gehenna.”

“No,” Kibum said as he worked to push back a set of doors on the far left of the room. “Eden is Eden. Gehenna is Gehenna. The Palace is the Palace. I’ve lived here since I was born. I’ll most likely die here.”

Minho’s brows rose in understanding. “You served the Royals.”

Kibum didn’t answer him. Instead he pointed to a windowed side section of the room.  “This is your room,” Kibum said flatly. “There are nine sections  which we were using as whole rooms but since there will now be three of us again,” Kibum said rather nastily, “one of us will have to share a side. I won the coin toss so you and Onew share. You’ve got these two rooms.”

Minho dropped his bag just under the window and looked around. The space was not small but nothing grandiose either. The room was divided into sections, both with windows. Just outside of his windows he could see nothing but green, from the shrubbery and bushes. As he turned back to his room, he took a moment to survey it. Both of the sections were bare of any furniture except for a table and a futon that has been rolled up in the corner. A pillow rested on top of that. Modern things has been installed––electric sockets, interior lights and plumbing. They’d confiscated his cell phone and provided him with one that was camera-less.

“While I appreciate the ability to charge my phone, why don’t you guys have regular furniture? Don’t you think this is taking it a bit far?“ Minho asked as he toed the futon with his sock. “Even the royals slept in beds.”

“You’ll have to ask Theo about that and I suggest you never ask Theo about that. It’s not really all that bad once you get used to it. You be a good boy and I’ll even get them to bring in an extra futon! Then it’ll feel like you’re sleeping on a cloud,” Kibum drawled. He turned from Minho to march back to the center room. “Those are Onew’s quarters,” he said pointing at the other sections. “He doesn’t snore so you don’t have to worry about that. Oh, and you’ll have to change out of that. Being a volunteer guard and being an official Palace Guard is different. Your official uniform will be delivered in the morning. Now if––“

“Kibum,” Minho said, interrupting Kibum’s spiel. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Didn’t know I was getting a pop quiz at,” Kibum paused to look at his watch, “ten thirty in the morning. But ask away. “

Minho rolled his eyes at the snark. “I’ve been working in the Towers for approximately six months. I’ve met hundreds of people. They cram them into these little cubby like apartments, with one window, a ty bathroom and a kitchen no bigger than shoebox and where mothers have to rush to the rails because children can fall twenty flights to their death if they aren’t careful. The medical care is a crapshot and I can’t, for the life of me understand why they deserve it. But I don’t question those sort of things. I am a cog, hell I’m not even a cog because I live on the right side of Theo’s madness. I am lucky––“

“You need to learn to keep your mouth shut,” Kibum whispered, deadly serious.

“Why? It’s my life I’m talking about here. I want to know why those people are stacked on top of each other like cows and Onew––this vague person, this person who nobody wants to identify, or even speak about, is living in the lap of luxury? Gehenna’s version luxury but luxury nonetheless. Theo said it was because of special treatment. I want to know why.”

“Minho.”

“Who IS he? Think about it. We are in the Royal Palace, in the King’s Quarters when we all know damn well the entire Royal Family is presumed dead. Is he a lover? A distant cousin perhaps? Eunsook’s chil––“

Kibum rushed to slap a hand over his mouth. “You must have a death wish. Questions like that will not only get you killed, but your family as well. You speak of Theo’s madness but have you ever…ever experienced it? What, he shook you up a little in his office? He assigned you to a place you don’t want to be? That’s not madness. That is civility. Madness comes into your home in the middle of the night and smothers your mother to death. Madness is your father’s blood on the kitchen floor. Madness is his dead cold eyes staring at you like you’re a piece of meat. Touching you when you don’t want to be touched. Madness is abduction. Madness isn’t a polite conversation and it damn sure isn’t being an investigative .” He took a step back, his lips drawn in a tight line.

“That’s…that’s not what I’m trying to say.”

“No, what you’re trying to say is ignorant.” Kibum huffed. “I’ll have the cook bring you over something to eat,” Kibum said as he made his way towards the door. “Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone.”

The doors closed behind him with a sharp thud.


Minho wandered out of his room after he couldn’t take the boredom anymore. Tomorrow would be better, he gathered. He’d actually be guarding someone, following them around as they did…whatever guarded people do. It probably wasn’t going to be that much more exciting but it would be better than Minho laying on his back and staring at the ceilings.

The Palace was a pretty simple place to navigate for the most part. The corridors were another story, but the Inner Court was a straight shot. He could go forward which would lead him to the Outer Court, or he could back. He chose back.

The Queen’s Quarters were far easier to get into than the King’s. He exited the back and a stone path led him right up to the bright red gate of Gyotaejeon. He walked up the stairs into the Queen’s quarters, remarking on how unlike The King’s, this one was bare and all of the doors were shut. The floor of the wide empty center section of the building was polished to a shine, though.

He walked through the open building and paused in the middle, staring up at the ceilings. The ceilings in this place were gorgeous. Full of color––not the faux color of Eden, where the selection was bright but emotionless. This color looked as if it could jump off the ceiling. Again, Minho was reminded that The Palace was one of the rare places that felt alive to him.

His observation of the beauty in the Queen’s quarters was interrupted by a sharp hum of metal cutting through the air. Minho made his way towards the sound, it leading him to a back door. He ended up stopping at the top of a set of steps that led into the mostly secluded, terraced garden, Amisan.

He found the source of the sound quickly. In the courtyard just before Amisan was Onew donning his usual veiled satgat. His upper body bare of his usual white longcoat and gleaming with perspiration. In his hand was a short sword Minho recognized from his older brother’s martial arts lessons.

Onew moved through a series of fast paced katas, the sword cutting through the air, his body expertly performing each move like a trained warrior.

Minho stood there, mesmerized. His brother had been good, very good, winning trophies left and right. Minho remembered waking up early, his body buzzing with excitement to watch his brother’s Wushu demonstrations. His training buddy Tao would show up and the four men, Minseok, Minho, Tao and their dad were off to the dojos.

The same excitement buzzed under his skin as he watched Onew handle the sword as if it were an extension of his arm. Another sort of feeling buzzed alongside the excitement, a kindred feeling but more intense. The more Onew moved, the more Minho’s gaze was drawn to his torso, skin pulled over muscles like water over rocks. With every movement, the muscles in Onew’s back shifted and Minho held onto that vision as if he needed it to exist.

The blade stopped short in the middle of one of Onew’s katas and his satgat covered head snapped to where Minho was standing. Minho suddenly felt embarrassed to have been caught watching Onew like his throat was dry and Onew was water. Because that’s what that other feeling was.

Thirst.

“Hey! I remember you!” Onew said, his voice not betraying any exhaustion. “You’re nobody!” Gently, Onew sat his short sword down against the stone embankment bordering the garden and ran across the courtyard, standing at the bottom of the steps, smiling up at Minho. “I’m so glad you’re my new guard! I hope you last longer than the last guy.” He jogged up the steps until he was on the top one. He stepped closer until he was crowding Minho’s space. Onew smelled like outside, clean air, the woods. “Are you hungry?”

Minho gulped and forcibly raised his gaze from Onew’s glistening collarbones to his face. The veil was a creation of concealment. From across the room, it worked, the gauze hiding Onew’s features. But up close, it wasn’t as effective. Although he couldn’t see as clearly as he wanted, there were things about Onew’s face he could pick up. Like the shape of Onew’s face, how his black hair framed it like a masterpiece. He noticed the strength in his jawline, watching how it flexed beautifully when he spoke. Then there was the beauty in his smile. Brilliant and wide.

He wanted to remove the satgat and look at him. He almost acted on that but Onew moved, jogging back down the steps and taking Minho with him.

“I have rice cakes and I have too many. I always have too many. Do you want one––wait.” Onew paused, dropped his hand and turned around. “I don’t want to keep calling you Nobody. What is your name?”

Minho glanced down at the name tape on his guard uniform. Onew’s eyes followed the movement, humming as he noticed it. “Minho. Choi Minho. Well, that’s a lot better than Nobody.” Onew reached out and ran his finger down the ridge of Minho’s nose. “You’re very handsome. Kibum is handsome but in a pretty way, like some of the women I see in my books. I read a lot. You’re handsome handsome like…handsome.”

Minho grinned at again, how odd Jinki’s way of talking was. It was adorable. Strange, but so adorable.

Onew spun again and jogged over to a table set up on the first tier of the Amisan garden.

“Please, sit.”

Minho took a seat as Onew picked up a pair of chopsticks and began picking out pieces from the spread. He had more than rice cakes. There were honey dumplings and sweet potatoes and all sorts of treats.

“Is there an occasion or are you just naturally thing hungry?”

Onew picked up a dumpling and bit into it. “I’m naturally this hungry,” he said with a smile. “I have to keep my strength up. It’s very important that I keep up my strength.”

Minho didn’t ask what Onew needed to be strong for. It was actually his job to be strong for Onew. But he wasn’t about to spoil the man’s joy with the unnecessary.

“Do you like The Palace?” Onew asked as he took a seat.

“I do. It’s––”

“I hate it,” Onew interrupted before he could elaborate. “I hate everything about it.”

Minho wasn’t prepared for Onew’s candor. Minho wanted to make vocal assumptions like how could anyone hate a place where people were hired to wait on you hand and foot, but Minho didn’t like to make assumptions. So he asked. “What don’t you like about it?”

Onew chewed on the end of his chopsticks in thought. “You know, in some labs, there are rats. Nice, white, lab rats. They are fed daily, get exercise, water, a little round ball to play with. Sometimes the lab will introduce another white lab rat. Sometimes, it’s not even a lab rat. It’s a dog, or a bird. Some sort of detached sense of camaraderie, even if it crosses cultural lines. Compared to a street rat, you are in the lap of luxury. But….but you’re never given what you want. The lap of luxury is housed in a cage and in that cage is the constant reminder that you will never ever get what you want. You want adventure, you’re given sweet dumplings, you want a family, they give you a dog and a cat and a bird. You want freedom and they give you a little round ball to play with, to distract you.”

 “You should enjoy what you have in here. Like it, even. The outside world isn’t all that great,” Minho said quietly.

Onew picked up another dumpling and placed it on Minho’s plate. “You don’t get to make that decision for me, Minho.”
Onew said it with a smile, a sad one, but a smile nonetheless and it kind of broke Minho’s heart a little.

Silence surrounded them and it stretched far into the horizon until Onew spoke up again. “Now I’m curious. What don’t you like about the outside world? I’ve never seen it.”

“Ever?” Minho asked, his brow rose. It was a hard thing to believe. But Onew shook his head. “You’ve lived here your entire life?”
Onew didn’t answer that question but stared at Minho expectantly. So Minho answered. “The outside world is fake. It’s a mirage of dreams. Some stay sleep long enough to enjoy that but for some of us, we wake up and we see the mirage, wavy and repressed in the background, and we cry.”

“You’re from Eden.”

Minho nodded.

Onew lowered his head until it rested on the top of his arms. “Life was supposed to be so wonderful for those in Eden. It makes me sad to know that even the beautiful ones cry.”



“Minho, will you wake Onew up for me? I’m running behind.”

Minho blinked open two sleep swollen eyes and looked up at his now open room door.

“What?” He rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”

Kibum looked at him like he was being asked a trick question. “It’s five in the morning.”

Minho blinked again, this time his face was washed with disbelief. “What? Why? Why do I need to wake him up? Why are you waking me up? Wh––I don’t understand.”

Kibum huffed. “I let you sleep in and this is the thanks I get?”

“Sleep in?” Minho asked, almost to the point of hysterics, “The sun isn’t even up.”

“As far as you’re concerned, I am the sun. Get up and get Onew up. I have to go get his meal from the Towers.”
Minho blearily looked from the door to the wall where Kibum had his uniform hanging. He sighed.


Minho hovered over Onew’s sleeping form, his white jeonbok sweeping the floor as he did. He wasn’t going to say he hated his new royal guard uniform but he wasn’t going to say he liked it either. He did like the white, liking the fact that it matched Onew, so in essence he matched Onew.

Speaking of Onew, he had the covers pulled up and over his head, so far that his feet were uncovered at the bottom. Minho stared at his feet. He wore mix matched socks––one red and one striped yellow and green with a little ducky on the ankle, obviously not Gyeongbokgung Palace couture. It, considering everything else, was the most severe culture shock he’d encountered so far.

He bent low. “It’s time to wake up, sir.”

The ‘sir’ felt funny in his mouth. It had always felt funny in his mouth. During The Reformation, Theo had outlawed traditional honorifics. For a few years he’d tried to push his own vernacular onto the commonfolk––Madame, Monsieur, but that went over as well as his coup did with the general population. Over the years a middle ground was found––Sir, Ma’am; the language of English dignitaries and politicians Theo was obsessed with. Sometimes a –shi or –goon would slip and there would be fear.

“Don’t call me, sir. I’m not forty-seven,” Onew mumbled from under the sheets before turning over, taking the covers with him. Seconds later, light snoring escaped the confines of Onew’s blankets.

Minho’s laugh was groggy and thick as he placed a hand on Onew’s shoulder, shaking him. “Kibum has gone to get your meal. Don’t you want to be up when it arrives?”

Onew shook his head from up under the covers. “They say that is better than food. Well. I don’t know anything about that. But what I do know is that sleep is better than food. It’s a scientific fact. So, no. I don’t want to be up when it arrives.”
Still, Onew pulled the covers down from over his head to the bridge of his nose, keeping the majority of his face covered. “Sorry you have to wake up so early,” he mumbled behind the sheet.”

Minho liked Onew’s forehead and the bridge of nose. He liked his eyebrows, too, thick and full.

“I’ll get used to it. I stayed up late reading that book you gave me. So this is my own fault.”

Before they’d left Onew’s impromptu garden party yesterday, the young man had wandered back into the Queen’s quarters and pulled back a sliding door, revealing piles and piles of books.

“Theo only wants me to read certain kinds of books, mostly about your chi or chakra or something, but Kibum manages to get me these in.“ He walked past a few piles until he ended up at the one in the back. He surveyed the books, his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth.

“Aha! This one.” He plucked the book from the pile and held it up. It was a faded reddish-grey color, and when Onew picked it up, the spine barely stayed in tack. Holding the book in both hands, he formally held it out to Minho. “For you.”

In faded gold lettering was the title Rapunzel.

“A fairy tale?” Minho asked as he looked the book over.

“The best one. It’s yours. You can have it.”

At the mentioning of the book, Onew’s brows shot up towards his hairline. “What was your favorite part?”

Minho thought about it. It was a children’s story, everyone knew it in and out, backwards and frontwards. “The part where they find each other in the woods again. They are reunited. When the Prince saves Rapunzel.”

Onew rolled his eyes under his covers. “So, you’re a romantic.”

“Well, it’s a fairy tale. Don’t we read them for the romance?”

“I don’t know what that is. So I don’t read them for the romance. And you’re wrong.”

Minho sat back on his heels and rubbed his eyes sleepily. “How so?”

Minho could tell Onew was smiling under the sheets by the way his eyes crinkled.

“The Prince doesn’t save Rapunzel. Rapunzel saves the Prince.”

Salvation was subjective to Minho. One can save and in the process save themselves. Selflessness can be your emancipation. Minho wants to save Jinki. But Minho doesn’t have hair that heals or a tower to hide him away in. He doesn’t have a forest and he doesn’t have a song. He doesn’t even know what he wants to save Jinki from.

“Still, Rapunzel started with someone eating. Kibum’s bringing you back a very nice meal. So you have to get up.”

Onew’s rolled over and pulled the covers back over his head. “You can tell Kibum to take that meal and shove it up his .”

“I would love to shove this food up your , but I don’t think it would fit,” Kibum said, suddenly reappearing behind then.  “Please get up, already. You’re embarrassing yourself in front of the help.”

“The help?” Minho glared up at Kibum and Kibum smiled back at him. “That was quick.”

“Woohyun thinks that if he meets me more than halfway, I’ll somehow be able to get him in here. He’s wrong every morning. But the longer he thinks he can overextend his way into here, the less I have to walk.” He prodded Onew with a foot. “You have to eat today. You know that.”

There was a noise of discontent under the blankets. “Fine.”

Kibum turned to Minho. “He’s grumpy in the mornings. I’ll take it from here. I left an itinerary in your room. To be honest with you, you won’t have much to do. Ever. Think of it as a vacation.”

“I’m not very used to be bored.”

Kibum tilted his head. “Fine. Do you know how to make a bed?”

Minho wanted to be insulted by that but he also didn’t want to anger the attendant any more than he had by saying it wasn’t his damn job to make Onew’s bed.  He nodded, anyways.

“Great. There’s your task. Have it made by the time me and Onew get back tonight. That is, unless you want to clean.”

Minho lowered his head and sulked. “No,” he said, his voice small.

“Didn’t think so. Today is Onew’s Prayer Day, so you’ll be here by yourself for the most part.”

“So…you don’t want me to guard him…?” Minho asked, his brow raised.

Kibum smiled again, it was a bit sad. That confused Minho.

“I’m afraid not.”


Hours passed. Really slowly. Not like how time passes when you’re just plain old bored. No, time passed like time didn’t exist. He remembered his history lessons where guards would stand still, in one spot for hours without moving. In others, they would stand in another spot for hours, not moving, except for this time they were watching a noble or a scholar, paint, or read books on Confucianism, or shine their sword for twenty billion hours. Because this is what this felt like. Twenty billion hours in a vacuum of monotony. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he started to do menial task like call his parents. He spent a grand total for thirty-two minutes reassuring his father that he was fine. Last night was the first night in a long time that he’d spent away from his home and for that reason, both of his parents were anxious. If his father started worrying, then his mother would start and his mother had the interrogation skills of the CIA. With his vow to secrecy, he couldn’t have that.

For a while he spent time arranging his room. From his bag he pulled out an alarm clock, his journal and a small set of weights. Kibum was right. He did plan on doing a few push-ups and sit ups. He was a guard, a bodyguard, really. He had to stay in peak physical state.

Finally, with nothing left to do, he unrolled his futon. Then it hit him that he was supposed to unroll Onew’s futon hours ago. Yelping, he rushed out of his rooms and slid the door back to Onew’s. Luckily, he and Kibum were not back. Their food had been delivered by hours ago but it was untouched and more than likely cold.

Still, more than a little put off by Kibum’s attitude and his demands––guards don’t make ing beds––he resigned himself to the simple task. He slid back the heavy wooden doors that led to the center of Onew’s seven sectioned room.

He looked around and didn’t see the futon. Actually Onew’s sleeping quarters were very sparse. There was a bonsai tree in the corner he seemed to be pruning and his short sword was hung on the wall by two simple wooden brackets. On top of a small chest were a few books. One read: Maintaining Spiritual Purity As It Relates to Physical Energy. That didn’t sound like an Onew book. That sounded like a Theo book.

Frowning at the title, he moved to the next section, pushing the wooden divider back as he did. This room was just as bare. There was a Jesa table pushed against a wall with three unmarked shrines on the top. The containers for the food and the wine were set on the table too, but they were empty as if someone were still in the process of setting the table up. He looked around the room and still found no futon.

Third, fourth, fifth and sixth sections were empty. As he pushed back the wooden diver on the seventh section, Minho paused.

“What in the––“

Strung from the celling were hundreds and hundreds of white origami folded paper cranes. They were also delicately positioned on top of the cabinets and along the top of a tall dressing chest. Even some littered the floor. He picked up one that was near his foot. There was a number in the corner of one.

“Five hundred thirty six.”

He raised the crane to the light but as he did, he noticed Onew’s futon, rolled up tightly with a bright red ribbon. He placed the crane down and walked deeper into the room carefully, as to not damage any of them. Minho had questions as he grabbed the futon from the corner but there was no one there to answer them, so he backtracked out of the room, his eyes lingering on the paper cranes until he turned a corner back into Onew’s sleeping quarters. There he unrolled the futon, white with gold trim, and put the silk rectangle pillow into place, fluffing it because he figured Onew would like fluffy pillows. He was admiring his work when he heard shuffling outside.

He looked back over the bed one last time, pleased, before he rushed to the main and stood at attention. He hadn’t seen Onew at all since their last encounter this morning and to be honest, he was a little excited to see him again, even if it had only been a few hours. He was excited to see his smile and hear his offbeat humor and listen to him tell Minho how he was a foolish romantic. He made Minho smile.

What he saw, in contrast, caused his heart to drop to the bottom of his stomach. His eyed widen and his mouth dropped open. “What–what happened?”

“Nothing,” Kibum said harshly, his voice thin with exertion. “Nothing at all. But I need you to help me. I can’t get him up the stairs by myself.”

Onew and Kibum wore the purest of white. He remembered Minhwa’s words.

Gyeongbokgung Palace has white! The purest white ever in the whole wide world!

Onew’s clothes were red. Not dip dyed or colored that way, red. Red with blood. It was so much red on white. Through the gauze of his satgat veil, Minho could see that blood dripped from his mouth, down his chin and onto his clothes. White spotted with red. Minho associated that image, so deeply burned within his head, with death.

“Don’t just stand there! Help me!”  Kibum screamed.

The harshness of Kibums’ voice broke him out of his trance. Minho dashed forward, ignoring the stairs and jumping down from the platform instead. He was at Onew’s side in seconds. “What….” he paused to look at him, an unrecognizable fear clawing at this throat.

‘Whatever you’re going to say, save it. I need to get him inside. I have to get him from up under the sky. It’s draining his energy.”
Minho nodded before dipping low and scooping Onew into his arms. He sped up the steps and into the building, now very grateful he’d heeded Kibum’s word and made Onew’s bed. As gently as he could manage, he laid him down, careful not to jar his head. Onew’s satgat angled as his head slid against his pillow, the hat covering more of his face that the veil. Minho reached to take the satgat off but Onew’s hand stopped him.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice barely audible.

Kibum appeared moments later, a large wooden bowl in his hand. He placed the bowl down, reached into a pouch wrapped around his wrist, and withdrew a soft looking white substance. Once thrown into the bowl, the water turned chalky.

Kibum edged in front of Minho, forcing him back to standing. “You have to leave.”

Minho looked at him like he was crazy. “I’m not leaving! He’s hurt! Look at him!”

“And there is nothing you can do about it!” Kibum sighed as he took as seat at the edge of Onew’s futon. “It’s against the law to remove his satgat veil in front of you. I–I can’t. I just can’t. And I can’t treat him if I can’t take it off so….just leave? I’ll explain everything later.”

“Are you out of ing mind?!”

“Minho! Just leave! I know what I’m doing! You on the other hand, don’t!” Kibum shoved at his legs, forcing Minho to stutter backwards out of Onew’s room before he slammed the doors shut.

Not accepting that, Minho tried the door again, trying to pry it apart but it wouldn’t budge. He tried the one connected to his room. Nothing.

Minho held his ear to the door, trying to hear for anything on the other side. It was low but he could hear Kibum’s voice, soft, as he spoke to Onew.

“I know it taste bad...but please. Please? You know you have to. I don't want you to hurt any more and you know this will make the pain go away….that’s right. It’s not so bad once you’re done with it. I’ll get you some mint wine. You know how you love mint wine.”

Minho stood there, for seconds, minutes, hours, he didn’t know, until the doors slid open and Kibum walked out, bloodstained clothes vibrant under the lights. He glanced at Minho, rolled his eyes, but Minho could see the exhaustion, the pain in them, so he didn’t take Kibum’s act to heart. He tried to walk past Minho, to his side of the building but Minho wasn’t having that.

Kibum must have known that too, because he let Minho turn him around without much fight.

“Tell me.”

“Tell you what,” Kibum asked patiently. “Something you’re not authorized to hear?”

“What happened to the other guards,” Minho asked between clenched teeth.

The question must have confused Kibum, a brow going up as he stared back. “That’s the question you want to ask? What happened to the other guards?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s the question I want to ask because there is no ing way that anyone with any goddamn sense can’t put two and two together. Who the is that in there? Don’t tell me he’s a lover or one of Theo’s favorites. He is a Royal, isn’t he?”

“I told you your questions are going to get you killed.”

“So be it. Am I the first to see that?”

“Stop talking.”

“No! Look. I’m not here because I want glory or a fancy promotion or to be a footnote in some conspiracy theory. I’m scared to death. Do you hear me? I am scared to death that what I don’t know will get me killed. I just––I just want to know. If you have to swear me to some kind of secrecy or...I don’t know. But do it! Just tell me!”

Kibum stared at him for a long hard moment before rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Come with me.”

Kibum crossed the room, glanced in Jinki’s room one last time, checking on him before sliding the doors closed. Without saying a word, he exited the King’s Quarters and walked the path behind them. They entered a corridor where Kibum made so many turns, left and right, right and left, that Minho couldn’t keep up if he wanted. When they exited, they were staring in the unattended wilderness of Gyeongbokgung Palace.

“Theo listens in on us,” Key said as he walked out of the corridor and into the forest. “It’s not around the clock, I’ve learned but I never know when the monitoring starts or ends. He can’t record out here, though. As for your blabbering inside of the Palace, luckily, I don’t think today is a monitor day, just because they just opened the dome. The materials in the dome mess up the recording frequencies and––“

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m telling you that Theo keeps his enemies close for a reason, Minho.”

Minho knew he looked confused because that’s what he was, confused.

“I’m going to be completely honest with you. I will answer your questions. Only because you seem to care about him.”

“I do,” Minho admitted quietly.

Kibum took a moment to look at him, access him, eyes narrowed before he continued. “Also you seem affably curious and not dangerously suspicious like the previous guards.”

“Well, what happened to them?”

“They are dead.”

Minho pulled his chin in. “Dead dead or––“

“Dead as in executed. “

Minho felt his pulse thud in his neck. “What–what? Why?”

“On my orders,” Kibum started, his eyes dark and cold. “Because I requested it. And if I don’t like how you respond to what I’m about to tell you, you’ll be next. Is that understood?“

Minho didn’t hesitate to nod his head yes.

“Have a seat, please.”

Kibum began to pace in front of him, while Minho got comfy on the pine covered floor, his white jeondeok contrasting with the green. The pacing reminded him of Onew pacing, and Minho wondered if Kibum got it from Onew or if Onew got it from Kibum. Kibum paused in front of him, his eyes steady on the thicket of woods in front of him.

“You’re right. Onew is a royal.”

Minho jabbed the air with his finger. “I knew it!” he exclaimed. “I knew it the moment I saw the dragons on his shoulder.”

“Well, if he had stayed put and out of the Outer court you would have never seen that. He only wears that insignia when he is receiving a visit from Theo.”

Minho nodded. That was understandable. “Well, what kind of royal is he? A long lost cousin or something? By marriage I presume. Or is he–“

“He’s Lee Jinki, Minho.”

Minho closed his mouth so fast he thought he could feel his next words slam into the back of his teeth.

“He is The Last Royal Heir.”

Minho looked at him for a moment before laughing. He rushed to throw his hands over his mouth, remembering Kibum’s words about his reaction but that was ridiculous. He’d already been through that in his head.

“Come on, Kibum. I’ve already thought that one out because I had my suspicions. I’ve always had my suspicions. You just said it. The domes, the storms. If Onew were Lee Jinki, and in turn the Last Royal Heir, there would be no storms.”

Kibum smiled as if Minho had proved him wrong and he responded back with his own smirk before he sat back, his arms crossed as he waited for the truth.

“You never know just how stupid the general population is until you test them. That’s why governments keep secrets. The general population screams ‘conspiracy’ ‘lie’ and they are right. But they are right without the general fundamental realization that the general population is stupid, thus the lies.”

Minho sat up, taken aback. “Wha–what?”

“They teach you that all it took for King Lee Daeyang to stop the storms was to stroll into the middle of Joseon and wish for it. Well it’s true and its bull at the same time. Lee Daeyang, before he was ever the first Lee of the Lee Royal Family, was trained to control his power. By the time he “wished” the storms away, he was as powerful as he would ever be. Every descendant of his was trained that way as well. The tradition was to pass down that skill and raise the child in that power. Because of that, because fate understood the needs of this city, anyone born a Lee could not be killed before their 26^th birthday. This ensured that they were given enough time to give birth to an heir and to have those heirs trained.”

Minho tried to think around the sound of blood rushing in his ears. The Last Royal Heir was alive.

“Lee Eunsook was pregnant when she was executed. Theo knew that.  It was a foolish decision but I’ve never known Theo to think past his own righteous anger. If Theo had been smart, he would have left Eunsook’s child alive. But in a way, I’m thankful. Thankful that that baby girl would not have had to endure what Jinki does.”

“What…what happened to him?”

“Happens,” Kibum said, solemnly. “Happens. Think about the strength of the storms. None of us were alive before King Daeyang, when the storms used to ravage this city, but we know of them. The storms now? They are weak. Sometimes we’ll get a storm that is especially brutal but on average…weak. Think about why.”

“Because,” Minho began, chewing on his lip. Then it hit him. “Because Lee Jinki was never properly trained.”

Kibum nodded. “More like, not at all. Training usually began at 13. Jinki was eleven when his family was executed. Hear me when I say this. Theo executed every noble Lee he could get his hands on. That left Jinki without a family or tutelage. Yet Theo needed to appease the people angry that the storms returned, find a way to make the murder of the Lee family justified. So…he found a way to…utilize Lee Jinki.”

“Utilize?”

“Utilize.” Kibum said. “He found a way to tap in Lee Jinki’s raw untrained power.”

“How?”

“You don’t want to know. Just know he heals quickly but it’s still a terrible thing to watch.”

Minho closed his eyes frustrated, trying to keep his calm in the wake of all the knowledge. But, amazingly, he only cared about one thing.

“How can I help him?”

Kibum blinked and Minho figured he probably wasn’t used to that answer. “You want to help,” he said, evenly.

“He’s my Prince, Kibum. Of course I want to help.”

Kibum laughed at that. “The monarchy doesn’t exist, Minho. He isn’t your Prince. He’s a shadow of a Prince and it’s all Theo’s fault. But…I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

Minho’s brow rose.

“I know who you are. I’ve known who you were for weeks, months, before you were even assigned here. Jonghyun said that you would come around, that I could trust you and Taemin did his part, getting you here but––“
Minho sat up straight. “Wait, what?” Then he stood. “What do you mean Jonghyun? Taemin? How do you know Jonghyun? How do you know Taemin?”

Kibum opened his mouth to continue but stopped. “I’ve told you too much in one night.”

“You’ve probably told me too much for one lifetime. Don’t stop now,” Minho growled.

“Unfortunately. I have to. We’ve been away for too long. I need to check up on His Majesty.” Kibum began to walk way back towards the corridors and Minho quickly stood. He didn’t want to be left behind, lost, left out in the wilderness.

Silently, in the surfeit of his confusion and thoughts, he followed Kibum back, following as they twisted and winded through the halls. As they approached the open air of Jinki’s courtyard, Kibum rounded on him.

“Don’t let him know, you hear me? He is deathly afraid of someone knowing. Just…act normal around him.”

“I’ll…I’ll try.”

“Trying may not be good enough, Minho. Not with his life at stake.”