Hongbin was sick of life - in fact, he questioned if he could ever be considered alive; where the concept of death was all but real, what, then, did being alive mean? He compared himself to the persistent waves that crashed upon the shore, the perpetual cycles of day and night on Earth, and the unyielding tenacity of the toughest glaciers. Was he all that different? Apart from being conscious and sentient, he was really just an undying piece of thing, granted the very wish of all Earthly lifeforms.

Over centuries, he had seen the rise and decline of empires on Earth, witnessed the birth and death of human civilisations, and watched as the world changed before his eyes. The only thing that never changed was his own identity, and the heavy responsibilities that came with it.

He was the ruler of the celestial heavens. He watched over all lifeforms from a variety of worlds, ensuring that rain arrived in time for the season of harvests, and that natural disasters timely offered the human world a chance for rejuvenation through the mass destruction they would bring. He worked to maintain peace and harmony in the celestial kingdom, often needing to conceive new strategies against the enemies who threatened to dethrone him.

Born the son of Ardanth, Hongbin was heir to the heavenly throne, and emperor he would be, for eons to come, unless he was killed, just like his father had been. In fact, death by murder was the only way the kings of Elysium could escape immortality, and while Hongbin desired death, he was not ready to give up the throne that belonged to his bloodline - he had sworn before his dying father that he would protect such royalty at all costs, even if it meant succumbing to his destiny of eternal life.

He was tired of being high on his guard. He had to be wary of even his closest relatives, who constantly employed unscrupulous means to harm him. He had taken a sword to his back, a blow to his head, a gash to his wings...all of which had healed within a day thanks to the miracle of immortality that ran through his veins. He would never fall sick despite the many attempts to poison him, but his enemies knew that the Achilles' heel of the emperor lay in his chest - particularly, where the toxin of the legendary Scarlet Wine would freeze his heart forever.

In the human world, they called it love; an emotion beyond romantic attraction that had never existed between Hongbin's parents. Scarlet Wine was the sacred blood of a thousand lovers on Earth, and Hongbin wished it was anything but a toxin to him; rather, he wanted love to be an emotion part of his inherent nature, a feeling he wished he possessed.

He thought it could be the very attraction he felt towards the God of the Moon - since meeting him, Jaehwan had given his mundane life more meaning than ever, but Hongbin knew deep down that romance between deities was nothing compared to the love that enveloped all Earthly beings. If he were to be born again, he yearned to be reincarnated human, following which he could enjoy the aspects of mortal love that was anything but the bane of his existence.

However, Hongbin knew there was only a way to escape immortality, and it was not the easiest way out. He had seen his own father succumb to the toxins of Scarlet Wine, his passing something the Prophecy had never predicted. Hongbin had ordered for the arrest and subsequent banishment of the assassins, but the perpetrators were never found.

Hongbin was still entangled in grief and resentment towards the inescapable fate of rulers like him, who would either live an eternal life with the position of authority, or die trying to guard it. He had studied the Prophecy well in order to learn more about the lethal effect of Scarlet Wine, but it was never once mentioned that the toxin could be prepared from sacrificing a thousand human lovers - that was merely a saying passed down for generations for as long as Hongbin could remember, and determined, he was, to find a solution around the poison, so that he could protect the throne as a royal descendant.

He was conflicted. There were some days in which he wanted to surrender, to follow in his father's footsteps. Who knew if his father was now in a better place, finally rid of all his responsibilities? Who knew if his father had been reborn in the mortal world - the very realm in which Hongbin wished he existed?

Centuries passed like seconds, yet Hongbin remained the mighty emperor of the heavens, equally, if not more, exhausted than he already was. Even the seemingly long lifespans of deities had not beaten his immortality; Jaehwan had been long gone, and Hongbin found himself not being able to forget the man, even more so with passing time. Hongbin now had seven descendants, but neither the love for his children nor his spouses ever helped him overcome the heartache from Jaehwan's passing. Hongbin wondered where Jaehwan was, but even the greatest ruler of the heavens would never have access to such answers.

The moon sat snugly above the clouds at night, resting right by the Celestial Palace. Hongbin gazed at the Lunar Kingdom - what was once home to Jaehwan - pining, for the umpteenth time, his presence. The kingdom was not derelict; Jaehwan had long been taken over by generations of newer lunar gods, all of whom never really enchanted Hongbin like Jaehwan had.

Hongbin felt a growing ache in his heart as he recalled, with a considerable level of detail, the way Jaehwan's laughter had lifted his spirits. He remembered how his nose would crinkle when he smiled, and how he engaged in three-second happy dances whenever he felt like it. History from eons ago remained vivid in Hongbin's mind, and he was beginning to wonder if the short romance they had exchanged between each other had really been nothing of Elysian worth. If Hongbin was already suffering so much, what, then, did human love feel like?

Perhaps it was time Hongbin gave up his throne. He had descendants to inherit the royal position, and that put his mind at ease, for the many others coveting the seat would then stand little chance. In a sense, he had protected the throne for the entirety of his lifetime, and had ensured that royalty would continue to belong to his bloodline for ages to come. Perhaps it was time for Hongbin to put an end to his unceasing misery, to be reborn in the mortal realm where he could be rid of all the burdens of an emperor. Most importantly, he could finally experience human love, and though he did not truly know where Jaehwan was, his strong instincts told him that his lover was out there on planet Earth, awaiting their reunion in the mortal world.

Hongbin ordered to be fed Scarlet Wine. The royal kitchen expressed strong disbelief and disapproval, for the discerning ruler who had cleverly evaded such poison for as long as he had been king had actually decided to take his own life. Not daring to defy orders, loyal officials took to reminding Hongbin of the tormenting effects of the toxin: from unrelenting anguish in the chest to intense internal burns, all of which Hongbin had witnessed in his dying father.

Hongbin maintained his stance, but was visibly infuriated to be informed that the royal kitchen could not prepare Scarlet Wine. He had thought it was a clear act of defiance at first, but was puzzled to discover that Scarlet Wine simply did not exist - what he had been evading for centuries had merely been wild concoctions invented by his enemies.

Hongbin furrowed his eyebrows in fury. His father had been a victim of the lethal substance, and so had his ancestors - there was no reason for him to be denied of death, especially so at the juncture at which he willingly welcomed it. The Prophecy remained the only reliable but equally mysterious source of information about the legendary toxin, but offered no answers or clues for Hongbin to take his own life.

Clenching his fists in indignation, tears welled up in his eyes for the first time in the millennium as he thought about the infinite years of the future that he would spend for eternity, not being able to escape the hellhole of his Elysian life. He thought about Jaehwan and the slim chances of ever seeing him again, and as he did, he felt insurmountable levels of pain build up in his chest.

Hongbin leaned back against the palace wall and clutched his heart as the sensation of roaring inferno crept underneath his skin, threatening to boil all of his organs till what remained was ashes. Soaring pain ripped his soul apart as he bit his lips to endure the ache that cascaded down his entire frame, until he finally let out an agonising scream that shook the earth.

He recognised these symptoms. He was reacting to the legendary toxin that he had been looking for, and as he felt the intolerable pain of a hundred arrows impale his heart, he realised that Scarlet Wine was really an intrinsic poison to which the emperors before him had willingly succumbed. It represented not the synergy of a thousand human lovers, but the internal anguish of a single heart-broken immortal.

The sacred phenomenon of true Eylsian love had become the ultimate fate of every emperor in the celestial heavens, and Hongbin was not spared. The very key to escaping immortality was the power of godly love itself, and with the longing for who was once the God of the Moon, Hongbin had finally unleashed his latent power to put an end to his miserable life.

As he lay on the white marble floor, the sharp stinging of flames tore through his skin like a thousand needles through fabric. He felt an unsuspressable urge to throw up, and the throbbing ache in his head was driving him crazy. He shut his eyes and gritted his teeth, knowing very well that all he needed was to endure the suffering that paradoxically signalled the end of his immortality. As he breathed his last breath, the image of Jaehwan materialised in his mind.

Wait for me, he pleaded. We'll meet again, soon.