"Your physique… is a problem."
"You look too stern."
"You are useless for our purpose."
Those words have followed him through the years. They should have make him feel worthless and unloved but it only made him want to prove otherwise.
At the age of sixteen, he was sent out to infiltrate a house with the objective of slowly killing the head of the family.  He had learned to ask no questions about the reasons of their kind to be asked to kill. They all knew better. He was sent off with very few encouraging words.
"You do not come back until it is done."
"And remember, a fleeting touch of your fingertips, a brush of your lips against an ear while whispering can make one sick. Dipping your finger in tea or soup will weaken them. You have to weaken them until they die."

He was to serve as a busyboy in that house until he was done doing his job as a poison boy. He had to stop wearing gloves to not attract attention. Taekwoon was very wary of his bare hands at the beginning, constantly scared of accidentally touching someone and exposing himself. The first two weeks were useless in term of poison duty-he had no contact with his target-his rank was too low.
He finally got an occasion after a page got too sick to keep working in the house. He may have played a role in that matter but it's not that important. It took about three days in that new position to have the first contact with the target. It was simple, all he had to do was bring him the mail. On his way to the office he kept repeating to himself "the tip of the fingers is enough". He finally stopped in front of the door and knocked. A non committal answer went through the door and Taekwoon turned the knob,  stepping in the office and clutching the papers in his hand.

"The mail sir."
"Hm."
The man did not bother to look at Taekwoon and he started panicking, he had to touch him.
"Sir, my name is Taekwoon,  I am replacing the sick page."
The man finally daigns to look up from his desk. Hesitantly Taekwoon extend the hand holding the mail hoping for the man across from to do the same thing. As the man grabs the mail Taekwoon extends him hand slightly more grazing the tip of his fingers against the other's  man hand. The man an eyebrow and Taekwoon jerks his hand away.
"You may take your leave now."
Taekwoon bows and hurries away with as muh composure as he can, wanting to hide and never resurface.
Days pass without another occasion to get close to the target. During those time he tries to make himself as useful as possible and he is ready to go far in order to kill as fast as discretion allows. His quiet personality and strong physique earns him attention during a small party organised by the wife of his target. He spends most of his time avoiding hands and lingering fingers while being as polite as possible.
Another occasion rises soon after and one of the wotkers who likes to gossip tells him he should be thankful of the madam as she slipped a few good words about him to her husband.

He was requested to the study of the man.
"How long have you been here ?"
"Two months sir."
"I have been told you work well."
" I believe I do sir."
" I am busy these days and the page who was before you wasn't very keen on cleaning. I hope you can do better. "
"I will do my best sir."
"You can start now but be quiet. And get me something to drink before you start."
"Right away sir."
Taekwoon quietly closes the door and quickly makes his way to the kitchen. He has to ask around to know what the man usually drinks at this time of the day and he finds himself with a glass of alcohol in his hands. On his way back to the office he dips his finger in the golden liquid and knocks once again at the door. He sets the glass on the man's desk, slightly out of reach but mainly away form the stack of papers covering the desk. He realize he forgot cleaning supplies and is about to run to get them when the man points a small foor in a corner of the room.
"Don't use the crap they use in the rest of the house."
Taekwoon nods and gets to work, trying yo make as little noise as possible. The man's voice disrupting the silence makes him jump and nearly drop the vase in Taekwoon's hands.
"Get me another glass."
"Yes sir."

Taekwoon takes the glass and leave the office sighing. He pours another glass of alcohol without dipping his fingers. Having the target being sick too quick would raise suspicions and  hinder his work.
Time flies quickly and the head of the house is getting weak by the poison's boy hands and no suspicions or rumours are circulating in the house asisde worries about the head of the family's health. At the beginning of the winter the man catches a bad cold and can't seem to get better. He finally is able to start doing some of his usual work after having to delegate almost everything to his older son. Around that time Taekwoon receives a letter.
To anyone it would be a simple letter of a mother to son but he hidden meaning tells him to get rid of the older son as well. Taekwoon decides the son can die suddenly.  Considering his age an excess of alcohol leading to an accident is not unusual. On a night where he young man is drinking Taekwoon spikes his drink making him far more drunk than the young man ever intended to be. As planned, he goes to splash his face and Taekwoon suggests taking a bath. The man sluggishly agrees and a few minutes later his body is floating in the tub looking just like a drunken accident.

The day after a piercing scream shake the house sinaling the discovery of the body. The staff is being interrogated like criminals and Taekwoon is no exception.  He smoothly escapes the accusations saying that he had indeed been ased to run a bath, which he did not wanting to anger the drunk man and went back to the kitchen to clean up. The case is finally dismissed as an accident and the workload falls on the younger son.  The poison boy goes back to slowly killing the original target after getting rid of the "older puppy of the litter" like the letter had said. The older man is finally getting a little better and Taekwoon lets him go back to somewhat usual routine, not wanting to raise suscpicions about the man's illnesse. A month after, the poisonning starts again but stronger, Taekwoon goes back to dipping his fingers into drinks and soup and brushes fingers fingers against the man's hand as often as possible. The man's condition quickly worsen and is soon bedridden. The poison boy is asked to attend the sick man, giving him more leverage to choose a good timing. The poison boy's habit of dipping his fingers in soup doesn't escape some people eagle eyes and one day he finds himself cornered by an individual full of worry and accusation.

"I am simply making sure the soup is not too hot for the master, I don't want him to burn his tongue."
The other person grunts and walks away huffing.  The young man resume his duties and as the date marking a year since his entry at the service of the family gets closer and he decide the final dose will be soon. He continues worsening the condition of the man and soon enough he cannot feed hinself, starting to be too weak to move and paralyzed at the legs with almost no chance of recovery. The family starts to prepare for the worst and are already starting to grieve. As the task of taking of her husband becomes too hard for the madam, the task falls onto Taekwoon who is asked to nurse the ill man. Taekwoon hears about preparations for an upcoming celebration and decides to wait for that day for the final moment. A few weeks later, the man's condition is stationary but still very bad. The family decides to spend the celebration with him and at the end of the dinner Taekwoon decides to act. He slowly crouches next to the man, gently taking his hand to clean them with a towel. The man's head lulls back and he lets out a groan earning panicked stares from the whole table. Taekwoon puts his hand on the man's forehead and removes it, shaking his head.
"He has a fever, I'll need to take him back to his room."

One of the kitchen boy helps him carry the man to his room and leave them alone once again. The man is covered in cold sweat and his breathing is ragged. The poison boy knows the end is near but he still needs to make sure the task is done. He slowly bring his hand to the man's forehead again and leave it for a few seconds before draging it down the man's face, closing his eye one last time. He slides his hand lower, checking for breath while maintaining skin to skin contact and soon enough no breath can be felt. He stays a little longer and finally leaves to gather his belongings. He can finally go home and wait for the next infiltration.