Eden; Yongsang District


Minho’s first order of business during the one day he was relieved of his guard duties was to find Taemin and to find Jonghyun and hang them upside by their ankles. He briefly considered a tar and feather treatment, but what was the saying? You kill more flies with honey or something?

As predictability would have it, Minho’s new enlightenment into governmental conspiracies hadn’t changed the atmosphere as he thought it would. Granted, Kibum was avoiding him and Jinki stayed in and out of what Minho considered a light coma for two days, but still Minho didn’t feel the oppressive nature of his new knowledge weighing him down.

That didn’t change the fact that he was still scared as . But Minho never really crept out of an uneasy grip of fear. He hadn’t since the day he’d accepted being a Tower Guard.  No matter where he was stationed, one slip up could get him killed. He’d always known that. Although the stakes were higher in his current predicament, the dance was still the same.

Once he’d unloaded the bus, the one a block from his house, he looked around at Eden. It had only been a few days, four at the most, but he’d almost forgotten what Eden looked like. The tall buildings, the blinding color, the propaganda posters that looked like something out of a Stepford Wives remake––odd robotic wide smiles that made Minho’s teeth hurt.

It was when he was passing a neurosensor––these creepy platforms that shoot out red beams that are equipped to read your brain frequencies and then feed you commercials, in your head––that he realized he did not like, love, or miss Eden. He loathed how overloaded it was, how insensitive it was, how despite the color, it was dull. That despite it being the “heart” of Seoul, it was the very death of it and its death cries reverberated every time the roar of metal on metal was heard in the sky.

But Minho was going to make the best of it. Eden was still his home not matter how he despised it now. He stopped by a number of places. A stationary store, where he spent entirely too much time shifting through the stacks of high quality paper before he chose one. He also visited a general store and walked out with ten pairs of socks. By the time he was done in town, he was also 5 books heavier and a hundred dollars lighter.

It wasn’t until he was walking up to his front door that he realized everything he’d purchased today had been for the Prince.

He tried to tell himself he wasn’t infatuated. He tried to tell himself this wasn’t a fairy tale where he was allowed to fall for the handsome Prince. He reminded himself that this was the real world where happiness wasn’t a thing he should hope for.

His brain’s logic, however, had no effect on his heart.




Eden; Gwank District
Eden University Apartments
Approximately one month before December 14^th


As per his plan, Minho made his way further into town, headed for Jonghyun’s apartment. When he reached the tall apartment complex hidden away in the university community, he sighed. The elevator in the building didn’t’ work. It never worked. So that meant him climbing six flights of stairs to get to the roof. While he planned on actively looking for Jonghyun, he wasn’t all that surprised that Jonghyun was waiting for him.

“Kibum told me you had the day off.”

"Oh, he did?"

Minho reacted in a way that Jonghyun had probably never seen before. Minho was the calm one. Minho was the voice of reason. Minho was always reasonable. That voice of reason did not stop him from chucking a beer bottle at his best friend’s head. Jonghyun crouched low and the bottle flew over his head and smashed against a brick covered shed.

“You ducked,” Minho growled.

“Were you expecting me to not duck?” Jonghyun asked, incredulous.

“No. I was expecting that maybe, just maybe if it hit you, then maybe something in your stupid brain would start working. That maybe if I hit you in your ing head with a bottle, you would start to make sense.”

Jonghyun rolled his eyes. “’I’ve always made sense! You–you!–were too stupid to realize that I was always making sense.”

Minho wanted to be angry, he wanted the anger he initially felt to well up inside of him and give him the energy to beat the out of Jonghyun. But he couldn’t. He didn’t feel it. “How long have you known?” he said, his shoulders deflating.

Jonghyun shoved his hands in his sweats, the Eden University logo screen-printed down one leg in bright neon colors.  “Since I was eleven.”

“Eleven,” Minho said lowly.

“Eleven.” Jonghyun made his way to his usual spot, the second step on the stairs that led to a utility level above them. “You don’t know much about my family.”

“I obviously don’t know much about you either.”

“I’ll give you that but you need to pull your head out of your . This isn’t about you.”

“Clearly! I’m just a pawn, right? Or is this even chess, because in chess the ing pieces know they are playing, Jjong!”

“I’m sorry! Okay? I’m sorry! But you were important. You were close enough without any connections that would throw up red flags,” Jonghyun explained. “I know your heart, Min. We’ve been friends for a very long time. I knew that if I needed to trust someone with that job, I could count on you.”

“You could have asked. You could have asked. If you know my heart or whatever so much, you could have asked.”

“I didn’t want you in danger.”

Minho scoffed. “You’ve got a ed up definition of what keeping me out of danger is.”

“I mean, I can apologize until I turn blue in the face but the simple truth is he is my Prince. So yes, maybe it was like a game of chess. I moved people around at liberty. I put you, Taemin, Kibum, my god, Kibum, in so much danger. Theo put his hands on him and I had to let him. And it made me sick, it made me sick to my ing stomach that that piece of was touching Kibum but I had to. I’ve done a lot of questionable things because he is my Prince, Minho, and one day he’ll be my King. That has always been my first thought.”

Minho narrowed his eyes. “Why do you keep saying “I”? What,” he snorted. “Are you some kind of rebel leader?”
 

Jonghyun didn’t answer, he just crossed his arms across his chest and raised his head in answer, looking at Minho down the stubby line of his nose.

Minho’s hands dropped to his sides. “Are you ing kidding me right now?”

“Do you see me laughing?”

Minho revisited his desire to punch Jonghyun in the face.

“I am the leader of The Brotherhood of The Phoenix Throne.  Our only desire is to restore the Throne and restore that Throne to its rightful ruler. The Last Royal Heir, Lee Jinki.”

“Christ, Jjong. Christ! ing Christ! How are we even friends? How did I not know this?”

“Because I made sure you didn’t.”

Minho plopped down on the ground, hard before carding his hands through his hair. “You people realize all of this––all of it–– has happened to me in the last five days? My brain is going to explode.”

Jonghyun grinned. “I haven’t even started and you’re about to have a moment?” He rolled his eyes.

“Go, on. Tell me whatever else you have to tell me before I swan dive off this roof.”

“So melodramatic,” Jonghyun cracked. He pulled a joint out of his pocket and lit the end. Minho watched the end light up, red glowing against Jonghyun’s tan skin. He inhaled, the tendrils of smoke floating above his head and escaping into the night air. “You know my mother was singer right? Never quite famous but well known. My mother had known King Taehyun since they were kids. Although my mother is not a noble, she and King Taehyun still ran in a lot of the same social circles. She sang for his 21^st birthday. They were really good friends.”

“Okay?” Minho asked, confused.

“Well…my mother connection to Lee Taehyun wasn’t just...friendship.”

Minho frowned. “Are you about to tell me that your mother is Lee Jinki’s mother or something?”

“What?” Jonghyun balked. “No! No! That’s…that’s not what I meant. I meant that…my mother was a spy for King Taehyun.”

Minho was shocked, but not because spies existed for the King, but that quiet, polite, refined Kim Junghee was one.

“Your mother––”

“––is a spy.” Jonghyun finished, quietly. “The information she supplied to the King was enough to warn him of Theo’s coup but not enough to prevent the ramifications. My mother, you can imagine, was very hurt. It was a week after the Lee Royal’s execution that she told me everything. Everything that she’d learned and everything she held secret.”

Minho wasn’t sure he wanted to know but he still asked. “Which was…”

“Théophile Prideux real name is Lee Dak-Ho. He is a Lee Royal.”

“That….that doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does. It is by marriage and it was never recognized by King Jihu, Taehyun’s father and not by Taehyun himself. ‘Theo’s’ coup was not because he believed in some grand vision for Seoul. His coup was a power grab full of revenge and resent for the Lee Family for never accepting him into the fold. He had no legal right to the throne….so he abolished it. It is also the reason he kept Lee Jinki around. Lee Dak-Ho does not have the gift. Lee Jinki does.”

“Kibum….he told me about…what he does to him.”

“Well, he won’t be doing it too much longer.”

One of Minho’s brows lifted. “Is that a good thing or…”

“Bad.” Jonghyun stood. “Something that I won’t allow to happen. Look I know I put you in a tight spot but I think there is something that you need to know. Know why I decided that you needed to know rather than moving you around how I wanted.”

“Please,” Minho scoffed. “You make it sound like you’re some all-powerful puppet master. You’re just a really good liar.”
Jonghyun ignored his half-quip, half-truth with a roll of his eye. “Listen to me. I’m not Kibum, I’m not going to threaten your life. But I need to know if you are in or out.”

“I don’t think I have a choice, Jonghyun.”

Jonghyun contemplated him for a long hard moment. Minho thought of what he could possibly say next, what task he was about to lay out in front of him, what secret he was about to reveal. What Jonghyun said next, tore his heart out of his chest.

“Theo is going to execute Lee Jinki on his 26^th birthday.”

Minho’s knees would have given out if he had already been sitting. “Wh–what?”

“The death warrant has been signed and handed to the warden. Soon, Lee Jinki will be executed, privately, just as they pretended to do fifteen years ago. They are going to execute another Royal.”

Jonghyun took a final drag of his joint before he snuffed the roach out. “I left some information in your room for you. Figured you would need it. I’ll give you some time to think about it.”

Jonghyun made a slow exit but Minho caught his wrist. “He…he can’t die.”

Jonghyun paused his exit to crouch low in front of his best friend. “I want to say this is the result of your undying loyalty and nationalist spirit but that’s not it, is it? Kibum told me you were…”sweet” on the Prince.”

“I–I didn’t know he was the Last Royal Heir. He was just…Onew and he was nice and fun and he gave me gifts and…and he made me laugh.”

Jonghyun clapped him on the shoulder. “We all have our motivations. I’m hoping yours will lead you to do the right thing.”

Minho nodded. “Anything…,” he gulped, his throat dry. “Anything you need.”

Jonghyun smiled. “I won’t make you regret you said that, friend.”




Gyeongbokgung Palace
Amisan Gardens


“Minho,” Jinki whispered harshly, “Minho, look. It’s a Black Paradise Flycatcher! What is it doing this far East? And it’s so cold! The poor thing!”

Jinki had dragged Minho out of his bed and up into a tree located in Amisan. It was some ungodly hour, something that Minho didn’t characterize with Jinki but apparently bird watching was an activity that could get even the more nocturnal natured Prince out of his bed.

It was cold as and they were crowded between two branches because that was Jinki’s method of birdwatching.

“Be one with nature, Minho,” he had said as he shook Minho awake.

Minho had nodded, attentively, astutely, like he gave a rat’s about a damn bird at four in the morning. But he cared about Lee Jinki who cared about birds, so if Lee Jinki wanted to hide out in a tree, Minho was going to hide out in a tree with him.

His name was Lee Jinki.

The name felt natural. It felt natural to say Lee Jinki in his head. Onew, while decent, was misnomer. It wasn’t who Lee Jinki was, not who Prince Jinki was. Still, he remembered to call the Prince by the name he’d used for years. He didn’t want Jinki to know that he knew.

“Onew,” he said, his warm breath fogging in the cold air.

The man turned and looked at him, a single digit pressed against his fat lips. “Shh, Minho. You’ll scare them away.” Jinki back turned around, shaking his head at him, only to gasp. “Aw! You did! You scared him away!”

Minho rolled his eyes and pulled Jinki’s binoculars away from his face. “I need to ask you a question.”

“I hope it’s about birds because you have a lot to learn,” Jinki grumbled.

“Birds? Hm. Okay, if you were a bird, and you could fly away from here, where would you go?”

The question must have thrown Jinki off because he wobbled between the two branches he was perched on and because Minho was beginning to accept the fact that he was an infatuated fool, or maybe because he thought Jinki was going to fall, he slipped his hands around Jinki’s waist to prevent that. Jinki jumped, his back sliding against Minho’s chest and Minho saw the tips of his ears go red.

“You–you shouldn’t do that,” Jinki stuttered.

He was so adorable. “I didn’t want you to fall,” Minho said, simply.

“…Oh.”

“Are you going to answer my question?”

Jinki didn’t move away, so Minho kept his hands in place, even tightening his embrace so Jinki was flush against him. Minho wanted to shove the satgat off his head.

“Sometimes…”Jinki paused to bite his lip. “I read books to escape. I know that’s what they are for. To escape. But it isn’t just a passing fancy for me. They keep me sane. There was this book…Purple Hibiscus.  It’s a story about being trapped and tasting freedom and falling in love and…if I were a bird I’d go Nigeria and see the Eyo Festival or Sudan...and Bangkok, spend a few baht on kanom khrok. I want to visit the pyramids in Egypt, see the Statue of Liberty, go to Vegas and lose my ity to a e. I want to––“

“You want to lose your ity to a e,” Minho asked, his brow furrowed.

Jinki’s shoulders slump. “No. I just want the freedom to do so if I wanted to.” He turned a bit and looked at Minho over his shoulder. “I want to fall in love. I read about that, too.”

“I fell in love once. I was thirteen…he was my best friend, is my best friend. He’s older, had this passion about him that I could never pinpoint or understand. To this day I don’t get it. It never worked out. I guess you can say it was one sided. I got over it, though.”

“Was it worth it? Even if he didn’t love you back?”

Minho placed his chin on Jinki’s shoulder. “Maybe? They always tell you there is some sort of lesson you’re supposed to learn from heartbreak. Which, okay, sure, that makes sense. You’re supposed to learn lessons from things that hurt you but that requires you to examine it. Stare at it, try to figure out why your heart cracks this way and why it mended that way. I may have been too young to actually do that. But…I don’t regret loving him. Even if he never knew…”

“What does it make you feel like?”

“Being in love? Crazy. It makes you crazy. A good crazy though, like your heart beating out of your chest when you see them, light headed, serendipity kind of thing. It’s a rush. It’s addictive.”

“That sounds nice,” Jinki said quietly.

A thought hit Minho, one he’d been meaning to ask for some time. “What are the paper cranes for?”

“Ah,” Jinki said. He rubbed his face under his satgat veil. “It’s nothing. Just some old legend.” He lowered his head. “Not like it’s going to work, anyways.”

Minho put a finger under his chin, maneuvering it until Jinki was looking at him over his shoulder again. “Tell me,” he whispered.

Jinki tilted the hat forward so he could lean his head back against Minho’s shoulder. “Senbazuru. It’s a Japanese legend. It says that if I fold a thousand paper cranes, a crane will visit me and grant me a wish. So I started folding.”

“How far along are you?”

Jinki bit his lip as he thought. “Eight hundred, ninety-two. I’ve been folding them since my last birthday.”

The mentioning of his birthday caused Minho’s chest to tighten. “What––“ Minho paused because it came out rough. He cleared his throat, ignoring the lump in it. “What are you going to wish for?”

“What do I always wish for?”

“To be free.”

Jinki smiled. “To be free.”

“I wish you were a bird, Onew but then you’d fly away. And I’d never see you again.”

“No. That’s not what would happen.” Jinki placed his hands, warm in the cold air, on top of Minho’s. “If I were a bird, I would simply teach you how to soar with me.”




Gyeongbokgung Palace
Approximately three weeks before December 14^th


Minho looked at the calendar on his wall. The calendar was from Eden and the picture from December was a scene from a white Christmas. He couldn’t remember the last time it snowed during Christmas. Christmas was on a Thursday. December 14^th was on a Sunday.

The door to his room slid open. Kibum padded in softly and took a seat on the other side of portable heater, turning it so it faced him. He rubbed his hands together.

Silent stretched to the four walls in Minho’s room. He liked the place. He really did. Eden was full of white noise and Gehenna was full of grey noise. It helped you float from one movement to the next, one task to the next, a background filler for monotony. But here in The Palace, it was peaceful. Not quiet, though. There was always Kibum’s firm, acerbic, but nurturing tone. There was Tiki, one of the new sentry guards. Sometimes Minho would take off for Hyangomu––even if he wasn’t supposed to––and talk to him.

Then there was Jinki’s voice. It was a range of emotions at all time. Sometimes he was an oddity, squabbling about abstract ideas that made Minho stare at him, confused, sometimes concerned. Other times, he was nothing but hums and grunts. Sometimes he was soft, reticent, thoughtful beyond an idea that Minho couldn’t grasp, which led to Jinki patiently explaining what was on his brain. Sometimes he was a song. Sometimes hauntingly sad, sometimes exuberantly happy.

It was that combination of noise that made him love The Palace the most. It was Jinki’s voice that made him realize that although he would miss the place, he would not regret leaving.

“Are you ready?” Kibum said eventually, breaking the silence.

Minho nodded and pulled out a hastily drawn map. “I checked it the other day. The service line is still clear. It will empty out along the Orange Line. Number 3.”

“I managed us lights. Not a lot, so it’ll still be dark. I didn’t want to risk using Jinki’s power to light our way.”

Minho propped his elbows on his knees, entwined his hands and pressed his nose against his thumbs. “Is he strong enough? This time was really rough.”

“Does it matter? The dome is up. The monitoring system is down. All of the guards are funneled down at the Towers. It’s our only chance.”

“Where is Jonghyun meeting us?”

“On the platform. It’s the middle of the night. Won’t be a lot of traffic.”

Minho inhaled slowly and exhaled even slower. He was shaking so he fisted his hands on his knees. What he was considering…what he was doing…was treason.

I’m going to die. We’re all going to die. 

Two warm hands grabbed his, steady, willing the shaking to stop. “Look at me, Minho.” When Minho did, Kibum didn’t smile, his face was neutral, and probably the most serious he’d ever seen the older man. “It’s going to work. This is going to work.”

The plan wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t even close to perfect but it was the plan. THE plan. With a capital “the” because they only had one.

At exactly five-ten am, on December first, twenty four hours after the dome was sealed for the Celestial storm, forty-eight hours after Jinki’s latest visit to Hamwonjeon to weaken the storms, Minho crept into the sleeping King’s room and shook him awake.

“Onew,” Minho said as he slowly lowered Jinki’s covers from his face. The man reacted instantly, trying to snatch the silk fabric from Minho’s hand.

“Minho, don’t,” he growled. His grip on the fabric was stronger than Minho thought it would be for his weakened state but it didn’t take much for Minho to yank it out of his hands.

Minho inhaled sharply. He’d always had a vague, hazy concept of what Jinki looked like. The sharp reality, the perfection, the flaws, all of it…

He is beautiful. 

“We don’t have time, Your Highness.”

Jinki gasped, his eyes growing wide. “Wh–what did you just call me.”

“Your Highness. I called you, Your Highness, Lee Jinki. I know your name.”

Jinki’s face was horror struck. “You–you can’t know that. You’ll be in danger if you know that. Why do you know that? I worked so hard to protect you from that. I used to sit up at night, frightened that this would happen. Please, “ he begged, his bottom lip quivering. “Please, just run away. If Theo finds out that you know…he’ll–he’ll–“

Jinki was panicking, Minho could see it in his eyes. He didn’t want Jinki to be scared.

So he kissed him.

And it was nothing like he imagined. He imagined it like it was in the books, with birds singing in the background, a rainbow shooting out of a pot of gold, the sun shining through the darkness. It wasn’t like that. It was more than that. The way Jinki froze, the way his brain caught up, the way he threw his arms around Minho’s neck, the noise that came from the back of his throat.

It was so much more than what Minho had imagined. It was everything.

Still, he had to pull back. This wasn’t the time to indulge.

“Your Highness,” he whispered against his lips. “We have to go.”

Jinki’s brows furrowed and he tilted his head. “Go where?”

Minho nipped his nose before placing their foreheads together. “Over the stone wall and into the sky.”

“But…but how?”

Minho smiled. “Feathers. I bought you feathers for your wings.”

“This isn’t the sky, Minho,” Jinki shuddered, his body shaking, his voice trembling. “Where are we?”

They were exactly twenty feet below ground, shuffling the last few yards until they reached the service line door. The closer they got to the subway tunnel, the narrower the path got.

“Remember, Jinki?” Minho said patiently. “We’re underground. We’re heading towards the city.”

The service line was completely dark, save for the two portable lanterns Kibum was able to get for them. To get to it, they followed a path Kibum had discovered months ago. It wasn’t on any map, it had never been documented, it wasn’t supposed to exist. But it did. Behind a tapestry in one of the abandoned buildings in the wilderness of The Palace were a set of stairs leading down into the ground, below the Palace.

“When are we going to get there?” Jinki’s voice sounded thick with tears and Minho raised his lantern to look behind him.
Jinki’s face was covered in sweat and his pupils were dilated. His chest rose and fell, his breathing harsh. Tears ran down his face, unchecked. Minho recognized the symptoms from a training course as a Tower Guard.

“Kibum!” Minho rushed to turn around, shoving the lantern into his hands. “Is Jinki claustrophobic? He’s having a panic attack.”

Kibum whipped around, the confusion apparent on his face. “I–I don’t know. He’s never been in tight spaces before! I didn’t even think.”

Minho hadn’t thought of it either; why would he? “Jinki…look at me.”

He didn’t. He just breathed, chest heaving, loud in the dark tunnel. “Please,” he whispered staring off into the darkness. “Please. Please. Please,” he sobbed.

Minho bent low and scooped him up in his arms. “It’s okay,” he said, pressing kisses to his fevered brow. “It’s okay,” he soothed as Jinki’s hands frantically wrapped around his neck, holding on for dear life. Kibum took the lead, picking up the pace as they made their way down the dark path, Jinki’s sobs echoing in the dark tunnel.

They spotted the door that led to the subway line and Kibum rushed to it. He wrapped his hands around it and jerked. It didn’t move. He tried again, placing his foot against the door jamb and tugging harder. “It–it won’t open!”

“What?” Minho pulled up behind him. “Try it again.”

Kibum, groaned, frustrated. “I’m trying, Minho. It won’t budge!”

“Get me out of here. Please. Please. Please. I want to go home. Take me home. I don’t want to be here,” Jinki sobbed. “I want to go home.”

“No,” Minho said against his ear, soft and reassuring as Kibum looked for another way to get the door open. “The sun sets, Jinki and sometimes the sky is dark. You’re still a bird. You’re a bird and you’re flying away.”

“A bird,” Jinki breathed. “A bird.”

“That’s right, sweetheart. You’re a bird and you’re flying.”

Kibum bent over and came back up with a long piece of metal, spiked at one end. He crammed the end in between the door and the jamb. The metal groaned as Kibum worked.

“But I’m so scared, Minho.”

“Flying is scary, baby. It is so scary but think about the wind in your hair, think about the clouds and the freedom. Think of the freedom of flying.”

'Are you flying with me?"

"Yes, always. I'm right here. I'm right here."

“There! It’s open,” Kibum shouted as he dropped the metal piece.

The sounds of the city and the subway flooded into the service line. As they walked through the door, Minho spotted Jonghyun on the other side. By him was Taemin, and two others that he didn’t recognize.

“The next subway is seven minutes away but the tracks are live. We’re going to place a piece of wood down for you to walk across!”

Taemin and Jonghyun wrestled a wide piece of wood from the wall and threw it down over the tracks.

“Hurry! We have to be well clear of the tracks before the next train comes.”

Kibum was first across, the two lanterns in his hands like a homing beacon for Minho. He rearranged Jinki in his arms and made his way across, following the swinging lights in Kibum’s hands. Once they were across, Jonghyun took a long moment to look at Jinki, his eyes star struck and filled with emotion.

It was then that Minho realized that Jonghyun hadn’t seen or heard from the Prince in fifteen years. He shook it off quickly, the weight of Jinki’s freedom moving him into action. They moved down the tunnel, quickly and efficiently with Kibum and Jonghyun at the front. As they approached the platform, Jonghyun pointed to a wrought iron ladder that led to the top of it.

Minho placed Jinki down at the bottom of it and both Jonghyun and Taemin reached down to pull him up to the grit covered platform. Minho was last up and they quickly made their way through the subway station, pass the turnstiles and up the stairs.

“We’re going to pull the car around. Stay here. Don’t move. There are neuroscanners everywhere in this part of town,” Jonghyun said, his voice thick with authority and concern. He took a step away but paused, turning back to them. “It is an honor to see you again after so many years, Your Highness.” Jinki was still recovering from his panic attack but he offered Jonghyun a shaky smile, a look of hazy remembrance shining in his eyes.

“You…you were the boy who sang…”

Jonghyun’s face lit up in a toothy smile. “You remember?”

“How–how could I forget? You used to be my friend…you were my first friend…”

Jonghyun offered Jinki a meaningful look. “I was always your friend, your Highness. And I always will be.” He bowed, bending his body in half before he snapped back into command mode.

Minho raised his hands as Jonghyun, Taemin, Kibum and the two strangers took off.  The sun was shining, the rays harsh after spending so much time in the dark. Still, Minho wanted Jinki to see.

“Jinki…open your eyes.”

The Prince did so, slowly, blinking as the bright light flooded his vision. He gasped. “Where….where am I?”

“This is Eden.” Minho said. “You flew, Jinki. You flew.”




Eden: Gwank District
Eden University Apartments
Two weeks before December 14^th


Minho found out who the other two with Jonghyun relatively easy. They wouldn’t leave Jinki’s side.

One, was a woman by the name of Dona. She had long black hair, a pretty face, and eyes that looked torn between crying and wanting to hurt anyone who came near the Prince.

“Her name used to be Lee Donghae. Because of her transition, Theo wanted to put her in Gehenna.”

“Your father gave my parents’ permission because I’ve always known. I just had to wait until I was sixteen. But–but Theo,” she spat, “had your father killed. He was such a kind man. He was so so kind.”

The other was a tall man with sharp features and big hands who went by the name of Yifan.  His Korean was accented and he didn’t say much. “Your father,” Yifan said as he addressed Jinki, “helped my family.”

The seven of them were in an apartment building near Eden University. It was identical to Jonghyun but it faced the side of an adjacent building, blocking most of the sun.  It made the perfect hiding place because Eden University was a melting pot of people, personalities and looks. Trying to locate someone there was next to impossible. Also, per Theo’s Edict 719n, as a deterrent to cheating, no neuroscanners were allowed on college campuses.

Jonghyun, Kibum and Taemin were in the city, procuring a few things to prepare to keep Jinki hidden for the time being. Most of it included fake ids, a new identity for Jinki, and another plan that they were not willing to let either he or Jinki in on. Dona and Yifan guarded the hallways. Jinki and Minho stayed inside.

The apartment was small, sparse, reminded Minho of a shoebox or the tiny apartments he’d seen in magazines, New York, LA, where they try to maximize the square footage at the expense of comfort. There were four total, next to each other, down on side of the hall. Because of their planning, Jonghyun, Taemin and Key stayed in one, Dona, Yifan in one and Minho and Jinki in another. The fourth was used like a command base. It was technically abandoned. The landlord rented it to them under the table. If anything were to happen, they were to all to collapse to that apartment.

All four apartments were equipped with anti-monitoring devices, a small yellow gadget that redirected any incoming receptors that would pick up their voice in any capacity. It also had a relay button, one they could use in case of emergencies or if they needed to get a short message across.

Inside of their apartment, Kibum had stuffed the closet full of casual wear. “You have to blend in, Your Highness.”
It was one of the few times that Kibum slipped up. The new rule was the old rule. Lee Jinki was Onew again. As it was dangerous to address him as The Last Royal Heir inside the palace, it was especially dangerous now.


Two days after their escape, and one day after the domes were lowered, came the wanted posters. It would have been more effective if Theo could actually show Jinki’s face. He couldn’t. Although it was hard for one to connect pictures to a memory, all it would take was one whisper of a recognition:

Wow. If Lee Taehyun had a son, this guy would look just like him.

Didn’t Lee Taehyun have a son?

Oh, that’s right. But he was executed...he's dead. How old would be have been?

Twenty five…Wait. This guy looks about that age.

Wow. Shock. Gasp. 

That’s how Minho imagined the general public would find out Lee Taehyun’s son if wanted posters went up with Jinki’s face on them.
For now the only face on the wanted person was his and Kibum.

“This person doesn’t look a thing like me, anyways. Look at that blotchy skin,” he said as he eyed the one Taemin slammed on the table.

Kibum adopted a disguise nonetheless, a wavy brown wig that hid his long black braid. Kibum said his family had a very distinctive look but Kibum didn’t have a family anymore so it didn’t matter. Minho on the other hand did. Luckily, for him, his family heeded his warning and applied for visas to China on the pretense of a family vacation. Because of his mother’s connection with the family she was an au pair for, it was one of the very rare visa approved for travel out of Eden. He wasn’t sure how they would have to stay but he planned on having this figured out before that became an issue.

Still, it was hard to sleep knowing that his actions put his entire family in danger.



“Minho?”

Jinki stood in the doorway of Minho’s room, his hair pushed off his forehead with a clip and a book in his hand. Jinki, by habit, still wore his white. Today, a white cotton button up shirt that kissed the top of his thighs. On his feet, however, where a pair of mixed matched socks––a pair that he’d gotten him. He looked good. Different. There was still that unique air about him, not quite noble, not quite common. A mix, maybe after living a life where he was considered both.

Minho sat up from the bed. “Is there something wrong?” It was always the first thing out of his mouth these days, a symptom of his preoccupation with Jinki’s safety.

“Oh, no…nothing’s wrong,” Jinki said. Still he lingered in Minho’s doorway, teetering from one foot to the other.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to come in?”

Jinki looked relieved, like he didn’t know how to breach Minho’s sanctuary.  So, to ease whatever was troubling him, Minho patted on the small twin bed, inviting the Prince to take a seat.

Minho was old enough to understand that what he considered love was more than likely infatuation. You spend almost every waking hour with someone and premature bonds are sure to form. So here, in his makeshift bedroom that looked nothing like his one at the Palace, he could feel the dynamic shift in his and Jinki's relationship. There was outside noise now, loud, heavy, oppressive that filled the gaps between their words.

He couldn’t hear the sounds of birds chirping outside his window. What he could hear was Christmas jingles, carolers, the sound of children playing and parents scolding. He could hear the sounds of life on the other side of a stone wall.

Once Jinki was seated, Minho threw him a blanket, threadbare, but still enough to keep warm. In Jinki’s hand was a book. Minho craned his head to the side to look at it.

“Confucius. You’re reading Confucius.”

Jinki gaze dropped to the book in his hand as if he’d forgotten he was holding it. “Ah, yes. I’m not supposed to be. Theo outlawed them. But this one? I could never give up. My father gave it to me.”

That surprised Minho. He’d never heard him mention his father, or his mother, or any of his family.

“It’s Book XII of his Analects. Because I was not the Royal Heir, a lot of my father’s minsters warned against teaching me the same as Eunsook was taught. She was the Heir, she was the only one who needed to be taught in that manner, especially considering she was pregnant, thus giving them another person who would ascend before me. Which my father dismissed with a wave of his hand and a threat:

My son is in line for the throne. My son will be taught as if he will be King. Anyone who thinks otherwise, thinks that he shouldn’t be taught so, also questions his place in this family. That is punishable by death.

Jinki smiled. “I remember being nine, spying on my father as he conducted business in Geunjeongjeon––that’s the Throne Room––and hearing him say that. I didn’t believe he’d actually do it but later he was marching into my room and placing this big freighting book placed in my hand.” Jinki looked down at it fondly. “I hadn’t learned all my letters yet. It was so hard to read…but he believed in me so I tried really hard.”

“My favorite part out of the entire thing was when Chi K'ang Tzu asked Confucius about the government to which Confucius answered, 'To govern (cheng) is to correct (cheng). If you set an example by being correct, who would dare to remain incorrect?’ It’s funny…because I always knew I wouldn’t be King…one way or another.”

“But…but you will be…”


“What? The King of Rebels?  And I’m not even a good one at that. People are risking their lives for me…and––“ Jinki paused. “Maybe it would be better if I died,” he said quietly.

Minho recoiled, violently. “What would make you say that,” he asked, lowly, cautiously.

“Because,” Jinki said, suddenly impassioned, as he stood. “I can’t be King. Eden is too strong. Gehenna is too nescient, to battered to understand, and there are seven of us.”

“There is more than that.” Minho frowned. “There are hundreds––”

“It doesn’t matter if there are a hundred of us! Theo has thousands of people under his thumb, under his command. You’re throwing your lives away. You,” Jinki said, turning his fiery gaze to Minho, “you are throwing your life away. And it hurts me. Because if I’m supposed to be a King I’m supposed to be protecting you.”

“You’re wrong and you know you’re wrong.”

“I’m not wrong,” Jinki said stubbornly, angrily, turning away from him.

“Yes, you are.” Minho moved from the bed and stood behind him. “You showed me,” Minho said. “You saved me.”

“How?” Jinki turned to face him. His hands raised to Minho’s face. “Tell me how,” he pleaded.

“By surviving,” Minho answered, almost leaning into Jinki’s touch but stopping himself. “By not giving up, by not crumbling under the weight of Theo’s cruelty. You woke up every day and didn’t give up. I needed that. I needed someone who fought for even the simplest idea of their survival. Seeing you go through what you went through, that you went through that for your people, seeing you in pain...then seeing you smile through it…that’s what saved me. So, please. Please don’t give up now.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You do. You are Lee Jinki, the Last Royal Hair and the Prince of Seoul. It’s in your blood.”