Kihyun’s dreams take him back to that fateful day when he’d come to this place. Plague had been sweeping through the countryside, taking with it livestock, crops, and people. No one knew where it came from or how to survive it other than to run.

When his mother caught it, Kihyun’s mother told him to do just that: Run.

“You run, and you don’t ever look back,” she had said, the boils on her face already swelling to overtake her once-beautiful visage. Of course, she’d always be beautiful in Kihyun’s eyes.

He did as he was told, packing up and leaving the village within the hour. His father and brothers had already been taken by the sickness, and he knew his mother would be following them by the end of the night. Her body would be burned like the rest of them, in an effort to protect those still healthy and alive.

He didn’t even get to kiss or hug her goodbye, she wouldn’t allow him to. Though he’d cried at the unfair goodbye, he now understands how much it must’ve pained her to send off her young son like that…

He’d run until he came here, to the capital. He’d lived on the streets for a few months, until that fateful day when the royal family was parading through town. Kihyun still remembers it so clearly, the way the cars glittered in all their shining, God-given glory. The king and queen had been perched atop the back of a convertible, their clothes freshly-pressed. Hyungwon, eight at the time, was sitting in the actual seat, his lips peeled back in the brightest smile Kihyun has yet to see on his beautiful face.

It had mirrored that of the queen’s, their expressions nearly identical as they waved at the commoners from their posh vehicles. Kihyun had felt a thick, dark, sticky ball of jealousy clog up his throat, his stomach constricting in hunger, and he was sure he’d hate these people forever.

That is, until the gunshot went off in the next moment, splattering the queen’s brains all over the king and the back of that sparkling car.

Everything ground to a halt, and the crowd dispersed like a cluster of roaches when the lights are flashed on. Screams filled his ears as he was pushed around. He had done his best to fight against the crowd, but he was too tiny and easily trampled over. A body collided into his, sending him flying to the ground. He caught himself with his hands, but grown-up feet squashed his fingers in a panic before he could pull it back up.

He looked up with a defiant glare as he stood up on legs shaking with hunger, a look that didn’t falter just because it was the pretty boy from the car staring back at him.

Hyungwon looked petrified, blood sprayed against his white blazer. Tears welled up at his eyes, and his entire body was shaking. Kihyun still can’t quite name the emotion that had filled him at seeing this boy, not prince, who’d just lost his mother. Sympathy, perhaps, understanding. Whatever it was, it had caused him to reach out, grab hold onto Hyungwon’s quaking fingers, and pull him out of the fray.

He’d hauled the younger boy almost to the opposite side of town before stopping, his body screaming at him to rest. He released his hold on the prince, slumping down to the rough cement ground. Hyungwon still stood, glancing around confusedly at his new surroundings. Trash littered every inch of the alleyway Kihyun had dragged him to, rotting food and discarded containers and broken glass making it near impossible to step anywhere without kicking something out of your way. Only a ragged, holey blanket protected one from the mess, the one Kihyun had sat on.

It was what he’d been using as a bed in those days.

“I… I shouldn’t be here,” Hyungwon had said, glancing back the way they had come. His big eyes shook in his sockets, trying to figure out just where ‘here’ was. “They’ll be looking for me.”

“I can take you back to the palace,” Kihyun told him with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Just gimme a sec.” His voice was rough, tense, as he was still trying to catch his breath. His stomach roiled in delayed protest at the earlier sprint, and he couldn’t help but hug himself around the middle in pain. Sometimes he wished his body would just start eating itself… at least then he wouldn’t be hungry anymore. He could see Hyungwon shifting uncertainly beside him, but he doesn’t comment on it.

The prince began wringing his hands together, pacing in that cramped alley. His breaths became shorter and shorter, and Kihyun glances up to see the most panicked light entering the boy’s eyes he’d ever seen, rivaling that of the poorest in his village who always struggled to pay the taxes on their land. Hyungwon had muttered to himself, attempting to rationalize what he’d just witnessed. Perhaps it had been a publicity stunt. Perhaps there wasn’t as much blood as he thought there was. After all, it was his mom. She could take on anything, anyone, and come out the winner.

He didn’t understand what had happened, but he knew his mother hadn’t just died.

Kihyun had watched, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He’d gone through the same denial himself for the first two months he’d been here, and for all the time he’d spent journeying here. He’d thought that there was no way the sickness could take his mother, that as soon as he made it to the capital he’d receive word to return home. Or, better yet, that his mother would already be here with a new home already made for them.

Of course, that’d been childish hope, at best. His mother was long gone, likely had died as soon as he’d stepped foot on his path to this place.

He couldn’t help but reach out, grabbing Hyungwon’s incredibly soft hands with one of his rough, grimy own.

“The sooner you accept it,” he’d said, the most bravado a nine-year-old could possibly muster shining in his eyes, “the sooner you can move on. What happened , but you can’t change it. I’m sorry.”

Hyungwon was frozen where he stood, fat tears rolling down his round cheeks. He seemed to be teetering on continuing to deny and throwing off Kihyun’s grip to accepting it with all the dignity an eight-year-old prince could have.

But, then, he just collapsed to his knees, pressing his forehead against Kihyun’s chest as the gut-wrenching sob of an orphan fell from his lips. Kihyun’s heart shattered at this, knowing exactly what Hyungwon must have been feeling… After all, he still hadn’t moved fully passed his own mother’s death.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and he cast his gaze upwards, sending a silent prayer up to his mother as he wrapped his arms around the stranger he’d just dragged off from the singular most awful moment of his life, petting his soft hair and whispering that one day, it’d all be okay again.

Kihyun helped Hyungwon back to the palace once the prince had regained some composure, taking the back way in order to avoid any possible assassinators still on the streets. When they’d stepped into the throne room, the king had swept Hyungwon up into the tightest of embraces, turning to this dirty nine-year-old and saying that he could have anything his heart desired.

He’d thought then. He could be rich. He could ask for a place in court. Then he’d never want for food again. He could be one of those people in those fancy cars and help to rule this country… But, he didn’t want to rule the country. He just wanted a home, and a way to earn what he made.

“A job,” he’d said simply, not sugarcoating it. “I’d like a job here in the palace.”

The king had laughed as if that were the easiest wish to grant in all the world and had assigned Kihyun the role of Hyungwon’s personal manservant the next second.

Kihyun and Hyungwon had shared a look then, one of shock and confusion. The commoner had thought he’d be done with this kid after that one day… and then suddenly they’re bound together by service? It was hard to believe, near impossible.

Kihyun suddenly jolts awake, the insipid ringing of that silver bell on the wall near the door echoing clear in the small room. He sits up with a groan, rubbing at his eyes with the of his hand. Dreams of the past still swim in the front of his mind as he gets up, yawning widely as he runs his fingers through his hair. He pushes them away, focusing on the present once more.

He just hopes his mother is proud of him, where he’s come to be. He just wants her smiling as she looks down at him from among the other angels.