“You can’t be serious. Is this some joke?” Jinyoung groaned, staring at his fathers. 

“We’re being very serious, Jinyoungie.” Wooyoung smiled. 

For some reason that smile the exact opposite, “The next test is to see who feels the most pain over the loss of a single pulled hair?” 

“Yes, that’s it exactly,” Wooyoung grinned as if that sentence made complete sense. 

Jinyoung sat down and massaged his temples. He was still wearing his clothes from the ball, and his feet were sore from having danced constantly for hours. He just wanted to send a message to Mark and then get some sleep. “Seriously, what are you and Father doing?” he asked. 

“Exactly what we said we would do. We’re looking for a wonderful, delicate, sensitive partner for you.” Nickhun sighed as if that was obvious.

“But it’s so stupid. I mean, would you really feel pain over the loss of a single hair?” Jinyoung frowned

Wooyoung shrugged. “Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t.” Jinyoung had a feeling that his father was talking about something else but he just couldn’t figure out what it was. He thought about pleading with him again to end the whole contest but he knew it would be no use. Wooyoung was probably even more stubborn than Nickhun. “Don’t worry. If you’re meant to be with him, it will work out that way,” he smiled. 

“But why can’t I just be with him? Why must there be all of these games?” Jinyoung whined. Neither Wooyoung or Nickhun answered him, probably because he knew they had nothing new to say on the subject. Frustrated, Jinyoung stood to go. “Good night, Father’s.” 

“Sleep well, Jinyoungie.” They said together.

Jinyoung left and headed to his room and on the way there he met with with Jaebum, who was breathing heavily and had hickeys on his neck that wasn’t covered well by his shirt. “I’m glad someone is happy in their love life.” Jinyoung frowned as he stormed into his room.

Jaebum scoffed as he followed after Jinyoung and closed the door behind him, “Oh come on Jinyoung, you know that I’m in the same boat as you’re in.”

“Yes but yours is less complicated.” Jinyoung groaned as he flopped on his bed waking Coco up and she immediately started Jinyoung face before moving down on the floor.

“I know you’re not grumpy at me so you must be mad over something else. Is it your fathers?”” Jaebum asked leaning against his bedpost. 

Jinyoung lifted his head up and frowned at the other man, “No I’m mad because my fairy godmother didn’t give me a birthday present. Of course I’m angry with my fathers!” He shouted out

Jaebum held his hands up, “Yah don’t take it out on me.”

Jinyoung sighed as he sat up, “Sorry but I swear my father’s are now being annoying.”

“What happened?” Jaebum asked as he sat next to Jinyoung on the bed.

“They told me that next test if one of the candidates could feel pain from one of their hairs being pulled.” Jinyoung rolled his eyes as he said it.

Jaebum’s eye’s widened, “You can’t be serious.”

Jinyoung sighed, “Sadly I’m not.”
Jaebum tested himself and see if he could feel pain over a single hair and as he thought he didn’t feel a thing, “I didn’t feel a thing and I can’t help but feel like Mark won’t feel a thing either. He’s a farm-boy his head must be strong enough to withstand the pain.”

Jinyoung groaned, “Probably but at least I can warn him so he knows what to expect.” He said as he searched for a piece of paper.

“I can’t help but wonder if that really is the test.” Jaebum said, “I mean it sounds so ridiculous and only a few of those royals would actually feel pain.”

Jinyoung shrugged, “I know but all we can do is hope that Mark passes.” Jaebum nodded and left the room. Jinyoung lit the candle on his writing desk and dipped his quill in the inkwell and began to write. As soon as the ink had dried, Jinyoung rolled up the paper and whistled. Coco, who had been sleeping at the foot of his bed, awoke and walked over to the desk. 

Jinyoung let the dog sniff the napkin that Mark had used at dinner. “Remember Mark, Coco? Remember going to see him last night?” Prince Jinyoung held out the paper, and Coco took it in . “Okay, girl, go find him!” The dog trotted out of the room, and Jinyoung put his head down on his desk. What was he, a prisoner? A prisoner who had to send secret messages via a dog? It made him sick, but he saw no other way out. 

Mark was waiting for Coco when she arrived, he took the letter from her with trembling hands and he lit the candle on his bedside table. My love. Only five more challenges. Tomorrow’s will be simple. All you must do is pretend to be in great pain when a single hair is plucked from your head. It’s absurd, I know, but for now we must play along. Yours, Jinyoung. 

Mark read the letter three times, just to be sure he understood. Seriously? To test himself Mark plucked a single hair from his head and he barely felt it. It was more of an annoyance than anything else. Mark sighed deeply. Tomorrow he needed to convince the others, and himself, that it was a lot more painful that he let on. “Thank you, Coco,” he whispered. 

Mark patted the dog on the head and then watched as she left the room. Mark lay down and tried to sleep, but thoughts of Jinyoung crowded his mind. His mind drifted to the dance they had shared. It had been so perfect. A perfect moment in an otherwise imperfect day. 

In the morning Mark woke well before BamBam and he dressed in silence and made his way downstairs, watching as servants cleaned and carried and made preparations for the day. Mark wanted desperately to help. For the first time in his life he felt useless, and he longed for a physical task that would take his mind off of everything that was happening.

The breakfast was a quiet, and he suspected everyone was exhausted from the previous evening’s events. The King’s made no announcement about the day’s challenge, but they told everyone that the steward would come get them when it was their turn, as he had the day before. Upstairs in their room Mark watched as BamBam do some needlework. The other prince tried to teach him a couple of stitches, but Mark was too distracted to pay very close attention. 

Finally, the steward came to their room, but this time he escorted out BamBam first. Mark had to wait only a few minutes before he returned, rubbing the back of his head absently. Then it was Mark’s turn to follow the steward, who led him not to the throne room but to the King’s chambers. Mark was overwhelmed by the splendor of it. The bed was monstrous, probably the size of his house. Rich red tapestries draped down the walls. A pair of matching chairs invited him to sit with their bright cushions. A writing table stood against one wall. There was another table with a white top ribboned with black streaks that was unlike anything Mark had ever seen. 

King Wooyoung rose when he entered, and Mark realized that for this test it would be Wooyoung alone testing the candidates. Mark was offered a chair, and he sat while the King Wooyoung made small talk about common topics. Then the king produced a beautiful brush with gold lacework on it. “This is the finest brush I have ever used,” he said. 

“It’s lovely,” Mark answered inspecting the brush, it was probably the most expensive brush he’s ever held in his life.

King Wooyoung signaled, and a maid came forward and took the brush from him. “Let’s see what it does for your hair,” he said. 

Mark sat still as the maid approached him with the brush. He felt the bristles touch his hair and downward. He tensed, waiting. Finally, he felt a small twinge. Mark cried out and put his hand to his head. “Ouch!” Mark felt silly and weird, but he tried to contort his face with pain even as he wished he knew how to cry on demand. 

With each passing test Mark felt more like a fool. He remembered joking with Jinyoung about how a woman sensitive and delicate enough to please his parents couldn’t possibly have the strength to bear children. Thinking about his competition, Mark was certain that at least half of the delicate princes and princesses would die in childbirth, if they even survived the pregnancy. 

“Oh, have you been hurt?” King Wooyoung asked.

“Well, yes, it does hurt. I think she pulled a hair from my head.” Mark lied.

“I’m sorry, milord; it was very clumsy of me,” the maid said. The woman moved away and handed the brush back to the king. 

“I hope you will feel better shortly.” 

“I hope so as well,” Mark said through gritted teeth. He couldn’t believe Jinyoung father actually thought he was still in pain. 

“Perhaps you should go lie down.” The king suggested

“Thank you,” Mark said, standing up, he turned to the door and then forced himself to stop and turn back. Mark didn’t want the king to suspect that he’d known what the test had been, since it had not been revealed at breakfast. “But actually Your Majesty, it can wait. I want to take the second test now.” 

For just a moment Mark thought he saw the hint of a smirk on the older man’s face, but it quickly disappeared. “Don’t worry, my son. You already have.” 

“Did I pass?” Mark asked, pretending like he had idea what he had been testing on. 

King Wooyoung shook his head. “We’ll let you know later tonight.” 

Mark returned to his room and tried not to worry about all the things that he wanted to fret about. He glanced over at BamBam and noticed that the other boy looked pale. “Are you okay?”

“I have a headache,” BamBam said with a strained voice. 

Mark stared at him in disbelief. Could BamBam be faking it? Surely having a single hair pulled couldn’t actually have been that painful? “How come?”

“I don’t know. I get them sometimes; I never know why.” BamBam shrugged.

Mark relaxed slightly. It was just a case of bad timing. “How did you do in today’s test?” 

BamBam shook his head. “I’m still not quite sure what it was.” 

“It was strange,” Mark offered, without saying more. 

“As much as I hate to admit it, I don’t think I’m going to feel like doing my own hair tonight.” BamBam sighed. 

Mark had no desire to try to duplicate one of the elaborate hairstyles he had seen at the castle during the last two days. “I can have your maids come and help in a little while.” 

“I’m sure they’d like that.” In the end BamBam servants came traipsing into the room, shooting haughty glances at Mark. They helped BamBam get dressed while Mark wrestled with his own garment. 

At last Dara approached him. “Can I help you?” she asked Mark. 

“No, I think I can manage,” Mark said, trying to figure out which part of the outfit went first. 

“I’m sure you can manage, but you shouldn’t have to.” Dara replied

Mark looked at the other girl. “I’m no better than you are,” he said. 

The maid shook her head. “You’re a prince. There are just some tasks you can’t do, or shouldn’t do,” she corrected herself. 

Mark gave up with a sigh. “Thank you,” he said as the girl helped him with his outfit.

“You’re welcome.” Dara smiled. At last both Mark and BamBam were dressed. Mark was wearing a white suit with silver trim. Staring in the mirror, he noticed how much more obvious his tanned skin was in contrast to the snowy white of the garment. He considered changing and then rolled his eyes in frustration. “I’m starting to think that all I ever do is eat and change clothes,” Mark complained. 

“Welcome to the life of a prince,” BamBam said with a tired smile. He was wearing a pale green suit that somehow seemed to emphasize the pallor of his skin. Even when he pinched his cheeks for color, it didn’t seem to help. 

Mark sighed as he turned back to the mirror. “Do you still have a headache?” 

“Yes but hopefully it will be gone by the morning.” BamBam smiled sadly.

When Mark entered the banquet hall, he was shocked to see that Baekhyun was already there, his head bandaged. “What happened?” Mark asked. 

“A clumsy maid pulled a hair from my head, and I have been in the most horrible pain ever since,” Baekhyun frowned. 

“You can’t be serious,” Mark said while raising an eyebrow. 

“I guess I’m just too sensitive, not that you would understand.” Baekhyun sighed dramatically. “If only I could be rough and coarse, like you,” he said, his voice sickly sweet.

“Oh, I’ll show you rough and coarse,” Mark hissed as he was about to lunging forward at Baekhyun however someone grabbed Mark by the shoulders. 

“No, Mark, don’t give him what he wants,” he heard BamBam beg. 

Mark glared at Baekhyun. “This isn’t over,” Mark said, his voice low enough that only the three of them could hear. 

Baekhyun rolled his eyes and then strut off to his seat. BamBam pulled Mark into his seat and everyone was looking at Mark, he was shocked to see that Baekhyun was not the only one whose head was bandaged. Mark shook his head in disgust. It was bad enough that he had lied over the plucked hair causing him pain. With the rest of the contestants making such a fuss, it only made his job that much harder. 

“Nobody could really be wounded from having one hair pulled out, right?” Mark whispered to BamBam. 

The other prince shrugged, clearly more interested in keeping a quarrel from breaking out than on the niceties of the competition. “You need to calm down. Picking a fight with Baekhyun would be more than enough reason for them to send you home for not being sensitive or delicate enough to marry Prince Jinyoung.” 

BamBam was right, and Mark knew it. It didn’t stop him from wanting to dunk Baekhyun face into his soup bowl, though. “How can you be so calm?” Mark wondered

BamBam smiled widely, “I just think of all the stories I’m going to tell about Baekhyun and some of the others when I get home. They’ll be the greatest villains of all time, and they won’t even know it.” 

Across the table the boy with the fake teeth appeared to be in great distress, as he had bandages that wrapped all the way around his head. For a moment Mark contemplated the stories that would be told about him and her teeth and started to feel a bit better. Soon the remaining royals had assembled around the table. Mark looked expectantly toward the doorway, eager to see Jinyoung. He was, after all, the reason he was putting up with Baekhyun and the others like him. 

However neither Jinyoung or his parents or even Jaebum were anywhere to be seen, though. The steward strode to the head of the table and, after a brief consultation with one of the servants, drew the guests’ attention. “The king’s send their apologies. They will not be joining you tonight. One of their servants, Jiho, became ill early this morning and has since passed on. In light of this tragedy they did not feel it was appropriate to celebrate this evening. They do, however, wish for you to enjoy yourselves despite their absence.” 

Mark felt a little lightheaded, he hadn’t known Jiho well, but he had seemed a good man. His thoughts turned to his dead family and his current family creating a turmoil of emotions that caused tears to stung his eyes. He signaled to the steward, who came over. “Excuse me, please. I have to go,” Mark said. 

He nodded, and he stood up, wiping her eyes. A few other were also distraught. But the boy with the fake teeth said, “I don’t get it. It was only a servant; why are people so upset?” 

Mark rans towards the stairs. Back in his room he fell on her bed and began to cry. “Mark, are you all right?” he sat up to see Jinyoung standing in the doorway. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Mark sniffed, wiping his tears. 

“I know, but I saw you run by looking really upset. Tell me what is troubling you.” Jinyoung frowned.

“I was so sad to hear that Jiho died and then I started to think about my own family.” Mark sighed

Jinyoung approached Mark until he was standing next to him. “If you want, I can send a messenger to your family so they know what’s going on.” 

Mark was bit his lip, “You would do that for me?” he asked, looking up at Jinyoung. 

“I would move heaven and earth for you,” he smiled but then it morphed into a frown. “I don’t like seeing you like this.” 

“I’m sorry. It’s just been a lot to take.” Mark pouted

“I didn’t mean the tears. I meant, like this,” Jinyoung said, indicating the room and his outfit. “It’s not you.” 

“No, it’s not,” Mark said miserably. “I’m not a prince; I’m a farm boy, and that’s what I want to be.” 

“Then why are you here?” Jinyoung asked, his eyes piercing his soul. 

Mark couldn’t lie to him. “I’m here because, as much as I want to be a farm boy, I want even more to be your husband.” 

Jinyoung reached out and grabbed Mark’s arms and pulled him to his chest. He slid his right hand up behind his head and then kissed him hard. Jinyoung held Mark so tightly Mark couldn’t have moved even if he had wanted to. The first time Jinyoung had kissed him, standing in the field, his lips had been soft, the kiss gentle. This time it was intense. The onslaught made him gasp and Mark wrapped his arms around his neck and clung to him. 

“Then be my husband, Mark. Come with me now, tonight. We’ll go to a priest and have him marry us. No more games, no more challenges, just you and me and what we want.” Mark couldn’t think. The room seemed to be spinning crazily as Jinyoung continued to kiss his lips and then began to move his way down to his throat. “Will you take me as your husband, Mark?” He whispered huskily to him.

Longing for him nearly overpowered him, but Mark managed to keep his sanity. “I will, but not like this. Not like thieves in the night. If I run away with you, I’ll never have your parents’ respect, and you will never regain your honor.” 

Jinyoung frowned, “I don’t care.”

“Maybe that’s true, but I care, and someday you will too.” Mark sighed. Jinyoung kissed him again and from deep inside of him Mark called upon strength he didn’t even know he had and stepped out of his embrace. “I love you Jinyoung, with all my heart, I really do. But for both of our sakes you need to leave right now.” 

Jinyoung stood, fists clenched at his sides and fire smoldering in his eyes, and Mark was sure he was going to refuse. After what seemed like eternity his shoulders slumped. Without saying another word he turned and left.