The sun is high up in the sky when a trail of people walks along the sandy road, followed by a row of warriors that keep a cautious eye on them. No one even dares to utter a word, even though their arms are burning from the merciless sunrays. The big and scary palace gets closer and closer with every step. There are not many of them, only a few who’s survived and are now going to serve the king that they all hate so deeply.

     One of them raises his eyes, ignoring the sun that blinds him only for a second before they cross the main gates of the palace. He hears someone behind him murmuring in fear but he can’t understand what they are saying. The warriors brought a few that survived from different neighbor countries, so it’s a mix of languages and cultures. He wonders why the king wants them to serve him but at the same time it only makes sense – they will remind him of his victories and remind them of how important and powerful he is.

     “You”.

     The boy turns around towards a man wearing red official clothes made of silk. With a nod of his head the warriors take everyone else away before they disappear right around the corner.

     “What’s your name?” the official continues when guiding the boy towards one of the rooms. It’s dimly lit, a contrary to the bright sun outside, and filled with various papers and books. The boy looks around curiously; he’s never seen that many books in one place. He’s never actually seen or held a book in his life ever before either.

     The official moves closer to him with a furrowed brow, his expression stern but eyes holding a warmth to them nonetheless. He is no tyrant. The boy stays silent all the time, lowering his gaze and looking at some papers strewn across the floor. He can’t make out any characters from it. It’s all a bunch of lines for his eyes.

     “What, cat got your tongue?”

     When the boy keeps staying silent the official moves closer before forcing his mouth open with the hold on his chin. The urge to vomit is not strong but it’s still there when he notices the unmoving remains of what used to be a tongue in this boy’s mouth. He quickly moves away and the boy stands like before, with his head lowered and eyes downcast. ‘What’s happened to him?’ the official wonders, getting himself busy with picking the right clothes to wipe out the image from his head. He’s heard about it, but never seen it with his own two eyes. He can’t even imagine how scarred the boy must be.

     “There” he starts again when pressing the clothes into the boy’s hands. “You will be serving the king and his guests from now on. Usually I advise the new servants to avoid talking but…” he gulps and instead helps the boy by unfolding the clothes for him. “Today you will just watch the other servants. Remember what they’re doing. That’s all”

     The boy nods before undressing himself slowly, unsurely. He can’t ask the official to turn around so he hopes his slow movements get the message through clearly.

     “What’s your name?” the official asks when sitting down and moving a piece of paper closer to himself to give the boy at least a bit of privacy. Usually he’s not this thoughtful around the new servants that he has to teach but this boy squeezes his heart easily in this small palm.

     The boy only looks helplessly at the official, because there is no way for him to reveal that his name is Taemin.

     “Right. We will work it out somehow later” a soft, troubled smile appears on the man’s face when he puts the papers away now that he had no use for them. “Call me Kibum. I will help you get accustomed to the new life” the words 'new life' hardly squeeze through Kibum’s throat.

***

     “Boring!”

     Kibum and Taemin enter the throne room right when the metal cup lands on the floor, spilling the deep red wine at the feet of dancing girls. They all stop immediately with a gasp before scurrying away, holding their traditional dresses up in their palms.

     “Your highness…” one of the ministers moves forward when the servants wipe the floor clean of any remains of the alcohol. The king looks at the minister sternly, his brow furrowed and eyes ice-cold.

     “How many times can I watch the same thing? You’re boring me!” the king stands up, his voice booming in the now silent throne room. All of the instruments grow quiet and the musicians follow the dancers, afraid of the young king’s fear. They’ve learnt not to stand on his way in the moments like this.

     Taemin doesn’t dare to look up at the king. One thing that he’s learned so far in his life is that he should never look powerful people right in the eye. They could read it as a threat, or worse, a challenge. Besides, many emotions boil up in him at once – anger, confusion, fear. Hearing the king’s drunken voice fills him with doubt too – is it really the king everyone fears?

     “Your highness, it’s our culture… our heritage…” the minister continues, bowing down as deeply as his aged back allows him to. All of the servants watch the scene with round eyes, lined up at the wall and ready to run when needed. Taemin and Kibum hide in the corner, away from the eyes of the ruler.

     “I said it’s boring!” another cup hits the ground, this time empty but close to the minister’s feet. One servant moves closer and picks it up before disappearing from their sight. The air is heavy, filled with alcohol stench and a lot of infuriation. “Get out of my face!”

     The minister bows down when taking a few steps back before turning around and leaving the room.

     “I said get out! Everyone!” the king moves his hand towards the servants angrily. Taemin finally raises his head, feeling a bit more brave because he is well-hidden unlike the others. The young king’s face is painted by a tired scowl, as if he’s learned to wear this mask after years of practice. Or maybe it was his real face after all? Taemin is looking at the king for the first time in his life and it’s so different from what he’s expected. He thought he would be angry, he thought that blood would boil in his veins and pulse in his head but instead he feels sorry. There is something miserable in the king but before he can dwell any longer Kibum pulls him by the sleeve out of the room.

     “This is your job now. Better get used to it” Kibum whispers silently when everyone leaves accompanied by the king’s heart-wrenching scream.

it's a bit short, the next chapters will probably be longer than this one! i just wanted to upload something already to this story :)