The Infinite Empire, by virtue of its very name, cannot fail.

 

Chapter 3

He knew what they called him.

The Smiling Terror.

Jung Hoseok wore the little nickname that the rank and file had for him as some twisted badge of honor. Aside from the fact that it was a perfectly true, what was so terrible about it? It was a perfectly warranted moniker for him to have, if you asked him about it anyway.

Smiling was crucial, it naturally heightened the mood on any occasion.

For the kind of work that he did, a smile was almost a requirement.

If he didn’t wear one, the work became tedious, tiresome, boring.

Hoseok wanted to avoid complacency at all costs.

Because if there was one thing that he truly loved in the world, if there was one thing he loved, aside from the security and order of the Empire, it was his job.

There were always new ways of extracting information from people, just waiting there, waiting to fall into his hands. He considered it something of a hobby to go out and discover them. The methods that he discovered would go on to secure the Empire for decades, that was his contribution, and perhaps that, in itself, was why he loved his job.

That was the charge of the Praetorian Guard, to seek out and identify any danger to the Empire. Once they were properly known to the Guard itself, it was his charge to uncover the full length and breadth of the security threat; to uncover all of its aspects.

And then deal with it.

Quietly.

In the early days, the mission was still the same, save for the code of silence.

In those days, the Guard was ruthless in tracking down the opponents of the Empire and destroying all vestiges of them. Even in the four and a half centuries since the founding of the Praetorian Guard, the reputation that they had built in the Wars of Consolidation was still legendary, and it was still as fresh as if it had happened the day before yesterday.

Hoseok longed for those days.

At least a part of him did.

There was another part of him that thrived off of the cloak and dagger routine of his agency and their operations. It played to the side of him that was amused by outmaneuvering his enemies, and for the position that he enjoyed in life, he didn’t lack for them.

The guard had an extensive network that spanned the entirety of the globe, delicately crafted over the centuries. He loved knowing that the enemies of the Empire knew that it was there. What he especially enjoyed knowing was that there was nothing that they could do to disrupt it, the network was far too entrenched to be destroyed. It was as strong as the bedrock of the Earth, it was, for all intents and purposes, a part of the bedrock.

It gave him an indescribable rush to know that there was very little in the world that he did not have direct knowledge of beforehand. The network had allowed him to stay one step ahead of his enemies, and that was far more crucial than anything else.

Most of all, he enjoyed that at any given moment, he could order the life of anyone snuffed out.

There were only two people alive that were safe from his wrath.

Two people, on a planet that contained seven billion, only those two could safely command him without worry.

And as Hoseok watched them receive the seemingly endless stream of loyalty oaths, he was careful to thoroughly scan each that came before their anointed dais.

Secure in the second-floor balcony that overlooked the ground level, his fingers tapped against the marble balustrade as he began to formulate various plans in his mind.

As of yet, he was not aware of any explicit threat against his new Emperor, not from overseas, and certainly not from any domestic source, but that certainly didn’t mean that there wasn’t one brewing.

There were always threats.

Threats lurked around every corner, even if they had to be invented and drawn out by fictional ones, there were always there, waiting to be brought into the light.

It was his specialty.

That was why he was the youngest leader of the Praetorian Guard in history.

His predecessor had found himself in the center of an intense treason scandal, and the subsequent investigation was one that Hoseok himself was all too happy to lead.

When the dust settled, his mentor was arrested, and Hoseok had him shipped off to a classified black site, located on an oil-rig in the middle of the South China Sea. He could still remember the day he read out the sentence, he could still see the look on the other man’s face as he read out the judgement, the look of complete and utter hatred.

Hoseok had specifically ordered that he live, for his years of service.

He did not, however, give the order that he should be made comfortable.

To do so would be sloppy.

Taking a sip of his champagne, the thought of the old man made a thin smile slide onto his face, and he made a mental note to check in on the status of his mentor.

His eyes drifted away from the minor nobles kneeling at the foot of the throne, and they strayed up to the dais.

Hoseok knew well enough to know that if there was a person that he was supposed to be inherently loyal to, with almost sycophantic devotion, it was his new Emperor.

Under normal circumstances, he might have resented it.

He might have, had Jimin proven to be anything less than what he was.

Underneath that façade lurked the mind of a skilled, ruthless, and utterly relentless ruler. Within the mind of his new Emperor lurked a killer, and Hoseok found that even he had to step back and admire that kind of drive, to bend the knee to it.

After all, if the guard had one true master, it was the Lord of the Infinite.

Hoseok smile morphed into a smirk as he moved his eyes left.

Prince Taehyung was very much in the same vein as his brother, though Hoseok would wager that he would have a heavier hand than even Jimin did, when it came right down to it.

Either approach suited his purposes, though he preferred Jimin’s subtly.

His past with the Emperor was complicated, to say the least.

And on a personal level, he didn’t think that he disliked Prince Taehyung. Both of them, at the core of their beings, exemplified all of the greatest traits of their storied ancestors.

Besides, it was his duty to protect the Empire, at any cost.

Despite the foolish notions that other people would try to believe, the Emperor and the Prince-Imperial embodied the state, they were the state, he protected them.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

As he was preparing to critically analyze the new tribute, he caught sight of a new face on the dais, someone of high prestige and honor, if he could take a guess.

Hoseok’s lips pursed.

A new name, a new face.

Those were not enough to hide from him.

A man of medium build, with sleek platinum-died hair, he wore a crisply pressed suit, and bore the trained gait of an ultra-disciplined solider.

Hoseok could spy that from a meter away.

That stolid type of training – the subtle warrior.

His eyes drifted down to the nameless man’s lapel, and he noted the customary pin that was given to a graduate of one of the many Imperial Military Academies throughout the world.

And Hoseok noted that it wasn’t from any backwater either – the pin on his chest was set in pure gold.

That meant that the new member of the retinue was a graduate of the Imperial Military Academy in Seoul.

He was good.

The academy of the capital simply didn’t let you through the doors if you weren’t good enough.

His lips pursed even tighter if that were possible.

Setting his glass down onto the balustrade, he motioned over his shoulder with a single finger to one of the seven men standing behind him. Without turning back to them, he knew that they were in rapt attention to his every command.

His seven station chiefs were professional and attentive to a fault. Dispersed throughout the world, each of them ran their own operations on the world’s continents, and acted according to his will, and by extension, that of the Emperor.

Handpicked, Hoseok fully expected one of them to grow brave enough one day to mount a real challenge to him. Perhaps on that day, they would succeed in doing it.

He would be disappointed if they never tried.

But that day wasn’t even relativity soon, and they all knew it too.

“Sir?” The one parked closest to him stepped forward.

Hoseok’s direct left hand, Mark Tuan, Station Chief of the Americas.

Of all of his direct underlings, Hoseok would expect any challenge to his authority to be mounted from the mind of Mark. Every time he interacted with him, Hoseok could see more and more of himself coming out in him – which exhilarated him to no end.

“There’s a new face on the dais,” Hoseok almost purred. “If one of you gentleman would be so kind as to procure me a name, and a story, to go along with that face?”

They would complete their task.

Hoseok had done his best to stay out of his master’s personal affairs. If people really understood the depth of the Emperor’s cunning, they would understand that distance.

But there were some things that he had to meddle in, to keep the Imperial Guard in check was one of those instances.

And unless Jimin commanded him to do otherwise…

“It will be done,” Mark replied.

“Yes, I have no doubt that it will be.” Hoseok purred.

Oh yes, there was nowhere to hide from him.

 

Taehyung held his empty wine glass out wordlessly for his servant to refill and smiled gratefully at her when she filled it up. He was Prince-Imperial, if he wanted to start drinking early in the day, he was perfectly entitled, and no one, save for Jimin, could bat an eye at him.

“I know that this is my first tribute out on the floor,” Jungkook murmured from beside him. “But if Jimin is out mingling with the other members of your family, why aren’t you?”

Taehyung continued to sip at his wine, and then looked up to his paramour with a crooked smile, “Because, save for my grandfather and Chim-Chim, I loathe all of them.”

And his grandfather was now dead.

As far as he was concerned, Jimin was the only family that he had left.

“Grandpa is dead, Jimin and I have rarely been apart since the day I was born, and all of them have given their tribute,” He turned back to the crowd. “That’s the reason.”

It was hard for someone outside of the fold to understand the internal dynamic with which the family operated. He supposed that Jungkook would understand if he had to deal with the nonsense that his family had foisted on him. A tamer answer would be that Jungkook simply did not understand what it meant to be the brother of the Emperor.

From the moment he came into the world, he was second.

He would always be second.

To always have hordes of relatives currying favor with him, with the sole intent of gathering favor with his brother, it was tiresome to say the least.

When Jungkook clearly decided that it was best to let the matter drop, Taehyung lifted his gaze to the second level of the citadel. Arrayed around the entirety of the dome were seven distinct marble balconies. Dignitaries from all corners of the Empire, ministers, honored guests too low in ranking to be allowed on the floor; they all watched from the spectator’s seats. Taehyung envied them in a way, for their immense freedom.

They watched as if it were a religious ceremony.

And perhaps it was.

The idea that the ground floor was forbidden to commoners, or those not in direct service to the Imperial Family, had served to create an image of mysticism.

“He’s watching you.” Jungkook murmured.

Taehyung turned his gaze from the balconies.

“Who?” He raised a brow.

Jungkook was looking up at one of the balconies, and following his line of sight, his eyes journeyed through the series of them until he realized just who was looking at him.

Jung Hoseok.

Anyone else might have been terrified of him, but Taehyung wasn’t one of them.

Maybe his lack of fear over someone that should be rightly feared was based on the fact that he was of higher rank. His brother adored the man, so even if he was annoyed with the head of the Praetorian Guard, he wouldn’t dare to attempt remove him.

In the immediate aftermath of their parent’s murder, their grandfather had brought to bare the entire security apparatus of the Empire on them. Jung Hoseok had been the young Praetorian officer that had been assigned to him during the long investigation.

Taehyung was sure that his brother had taken Hoseok as a lover.

There had been no reasonable explanation as to why the direct heir to the Infinite Throne would champion the rise of a relatively obscure member of the Praetorian Guard, who only began to rise in the aftermath of meeting the Prince-Imperial. It was the only reason why he could rationalize that agent being the head of the Guard now.

“Who is he?” Jungkook asked.

Taehyung smiled briefly at Hoseok, and when the other man returned his smile, he moved his gaze back to Jungkook.

“That would be Jung Hoseok,” Taehyung answered easily. “Praetorian Guard.”

It was almost comical, the look that came over his face at the full introduction of the man. He knew for a fact that Hoseok preferred to be known for his reputation, rather than his face. He had always stayed to the shadows, preferring to attack from the back.

Which only lent credence to the theory that Jimin had been his lover.

“The Smiling Terror?” Jungkook breathed in wonder.

The accentuation of his two front teeth made him look impossibly endearing.

“I believe that is something he’s known by,” Taehyung mused. “He’s harmless though Kookie, I wouldn’t worry.”

Taehyung knew that the statement was patently false, but perhaps Jungkook believed it.

The truth was that Hoseok was perhaps the most dangerous man in the Empire, with his position being a blunt instrument of the Emperor. He knew his brother had a darker side to him, but he would wager that wielding Hoseok as a weapon came hand in hand with Hoseok wielding Jimin to bend to his will.

“He once came to the Academy in Seoul,” Jungkook recounted softly, and Taehyung found himself unable to turn away. “He arrested the commandant, black-bagged him. Rumor had it that he was evaced by chopper to a black-site in the night.”

Taehyung said nothing, and turned back to the milling crowd.

He knew that there were darker aspects to the family business, so to speak, but it was rare that he found himself confronted with it face to face. He wondered if he would have the strength to give those types of orders if he ever found himself on the throne.

“You’re mine, darling,” Taehyung said. “I wouldn’t worry about anything happening to you. Director Hoseok wouldn’t dare cross me, even if he is a Praetorian.”

And perhaps it was a threat that he would carry out if Hoseok ever dare threaten to take what was his.

Not that he would.

 

He was the center of the storm.

The political nexus of four billion people, Jimin understood that from the moment the oil touched his forehead, he would cease to be a person. It was strange to be considered an idea, rather than a person, but he had always known that it was his fate.

Deep down, he was a