Dongwoo, Myungeun, Dongwoo, Myungeun, Dongwoo, Myungeun...

Myungsoo was drowsy, his head bowed to meet his . But these two names looped in his subconscious with the dolesome rhytm of a quiet andante melody; it was a plangent refrain that seemed unlikely to ever subside. He was always on the eve of sleep, but just as he crossed the boundary of slumber, he was pulled back by either of these nagging appellations. 

He was dead tired and had exhausted his head with internal debate and counsel. His fingers massaged his temples while he sighed. His half-shut eyes peered from place to place, I should have asked for food...

Sujeong left some while ago and he now wondered whether it was still night. Retreating to his thoughts, he groaned over the suggestion to meet Dongwoo. He didn't want to. He would have easily agreed to see him if he had died and was rotting as a decaying corpse, but the way he was now imbued him with a type of haunting terror...

Why does he have to remind me of Myungeun?  Why does my heart, mind or soul- whatever it may be- refuse to let me be at peace when her dying face surfaces?

His knuckles turned white as his fingers dug deep into his palm. Following a groan, he decided, I'll just kill him and end his misery. Let him rest with Nesher in his imagined paradise while I seek out Laroo alone.

Straining his thews to reach the door, Myungsoo noted his whole body was twitching and moist with sweat. He was nervous, anxious about meeting Dongwoo. He grunted at this realization and fitted his hand around the bronze handle. He cranked it downwards and suspected to see Sujeong waiting there but she was absent. Poking his head out first and peeking to the side, his muscles tensed for a split second. Someone was there.

Directly to the side of the opened door stood an armored guard and a stool filled with food and a flask containing milk. The guard seemed unmoved by his presence, looking like a six foot tall saturnine structure rather than breathing man. The only sign he gave at life was a short bow in respect to his queen's savior. With a sigh, he fully emerged out his room, a flacid hand closing the door shut behind him.

Ignoring that brooding presence, Myungsoo reached out for a loaf of bread, crusted with a candy-like film, and ate it while the guard stood silent. His stomach received the bread well, and without hesitation, he quaffed down the milk. He felt better, revived somewhat by the meal. 

Standing with a hand on his side, he searched for any sign of Sujeong. She must've left the food for him. Neither she nor the queen met his sight.

 "Where's the queen or that Sanritem woman?" he asked the guard.

The sentry moved like a mechanical object to meet his view. "The queen has turned in for the night, and the Sanritem ambassador left for her quarter shortly after preparing that meal for you. Normally, her majesty forbids anyone interrupt her sleep but you are no meager person. Do you require an assembly?"

 "No," he grunted. "Don't tell them I left the room."

Abandoning the guard without a glance back, he walked with a slow and measured pace to the far-end chamber parallel his. His bandaged wound propagated the need for gentle steps, but it was an unshakable kind of anxiousness rather that derailed his usual savage and hasty pace. There existed no sound in this lofty hall except for the damp sounds of his feet falling on the floor.

The hall was lit by torches scattered about, fixed into niches on the wall. Strange, it seemed, that this lofty place didn't make use of the weird lighting system found in his room. He paid this discrepancy no heed and instead glimpsed at the moonlight that entered through the casements, piercing the gauzy curtains. Outside, the sky was a velveteen black tapestry with stars twinkling like fireflies. He admired the dusky expanse for a moment before restarting his short trip. Before he knew it, he was facing a polished door, hand slowly rising to clutch the handle. A guard stood at the side, but he was consonant with the quiet night, only bowing his head after glimpsing at Myungsoo.

A moan coming from inside caused him to pull back his hand. He grunted and scolded himself for hesitating. He drew in a sharp breath and simultaneously pulled on the handle with a motion just as sharp and swift as his breath. The glossy door was pushed inwards and now he faced the stunning sight of a man fragmented into a myriad shards. Dongwoo lied on the bed, hugging his knees and whimpering like a neglected infant.

There, at the farthest wall, was the same lambent glow of a waning torch-fire that scarcely disclosed his facial aspects. Standing beneath the lintel, it was as though Myungsoo existed between two very different dimensions, one touched by a celestial glow, the other touched by a grim orange fire ascending from unholy grounds. His chest heaved as though staring into a perilous world, but there was no peril- only a man, a single boy to be pitied. 

Slowly closing the door behind him, he arched his neck see whether Dongwoo was asleep. He seemed to be, but he wasn't wholly certain. He waited a minute before he took any action, his mind devoid of thought. He lifted a foot and before it fully made contact with the cold floor, Dongwoo whimpered with a loud pitch. 

 "Dongwoo, are you awake?" he asked by reflex.

There was no clear sound of speech coming from the balled up crier, only the jargon of an incoherent intelligence. Like a habit, Myungsoo's opened hands became gripping fists. He again affirmed his earlier notion, perhaps it'd be better he die than live with this impaired and shattered mind. He moved clumsily, as though his legs refused the decree issued from his will to advance. His hand d at the air until it touched the side of a wall and he leaned against it, his flesh never scorning the cold touch of it.
 
Slumping against the wall, he glimpsed at the vague outline of his hand. In a moment, he presumed, that very hand would snap the limp neck of an insane person, a former companion whose journey to a forbidden jungle would be stopped short. His eyes peered to and fro, thinking that meddling ghost would appear to halt his murderous intention, but she never appeared. It nagged him to not see her there. He really thought she would appear, yet she didn't. Mayhap, he wanted her there to stop him, to stay his hands from taking another life.

He groaned and finally reached the bed where Dongwoo lay in a ghastly milieu of gloom and misery, a state of total despondency. Myungsoo sat and presumed Dongwoo would react to his weight shifting the form of the mattress, but he didn't. He groaned and stretched out his hand to reach his shoulder. His finger first made contact, followed by the full grasp of a cold, trembling hand.

 "Dongwoo."

 It was no use, he was deep in slumber, crying in his sleep with all the ululations of orphaned children. Myungsoo retracted his hand and crawled his way to sit directly beside him. A pang surging from his wound made him wince, but it wasn't enough to prevent a pair of taught arms from trapping the neck of the crier. He sought to end it all and let him rest. 

It wasn't as easy he envisioned for his arms immediately became loose, limp members about the neck. Suddenly, he found himself staring down into the eyes of a being lost to all rationale. He gasped and strained to pull himself away when a languid hand fell on his arm.

 "Myungsoo?" he mumbled with a mass of bubbling froth sliding down his slack jaw.

 He tensed himself, unsure of how to respond.

 "Myungsoo," the morose voice called out.

A grunt naturally escaped him ere he answered with bold honesty, "I sought to end your misery, but I couldn't."

There was no sound of surprise, much less outburst of anger, bloody retaliation. Instead Dongwoo simply called out for him again. Myungsoo grumbled and brusquely rubbed his sweat-moistened face.  

 "You need to stop this," he said sternly, "you can't be like this just because you killed a man."

 Dongwoo intensified the sound of his weeping. Trained habits were now in motion as Myungsoo rubbed the matted hair of the boy. He issued forth repeated commands of "Calm down." and gently rocked his shoulders. Reality had begun to merge with nostalgic visions for him. He simultaneously comforted not only Dongwoo but his sister. He was drowning in the past where his sister at a tender age needed the comfort of someone strong and reliable, one who would be unfazed by the slimy feel of snot and salt of tears on his . 

 "Myungeun," he succinctly whispered, "It's fine, I'm here now."

His faculties became dull, slow and dizzy. He was fading into the solace of cherished memories while he provided like solace to one who desperately needed it. His breathing, his heartbeat, came in slow, rhythmic patterns. His eyelids drooped with a great weight. His whole body now became numb and he glimpsed at the head on his bosom once more before a dim darkness fell on him like a heavy pall.

....

Myungsoo awoke with a start as a soft hand patted his thigh. By instinct his arm rose to shield his eyes from the intense brightness of the room that surged his vision like a strong deluge. He adjusted his eyes as he noted the weight pinning his other arm down. It was Dongwoo that was locked in his half-embrace. His brows formed an ugly scowl and he intended to remove his arm, but the moment he exerted effort in that lithe arm of his, an acute throe of agony crippled him. 

 "Don't try to move, you'll reopen the wound," a familiar timbre advised.

Myungsoo shot up his head in pain while a choked cry lingered in his throat. His chest heaved and he squinted to look at the long-haired figure that now moved on the bed. She strained her supple arms to delicately hitch Dongwoo off him until finally with a great shove unbefitting her dainty frame, she rolled him off. His arm sprang to the air and with several waves, he shook off the numbness. 

The scourge on his side lashed with another of agony, his back slammed against the wall and he breathed in gusty breaths of air. His eyes closed in that instant while he focused on recapturing a more composed self. A palm, soft like satin, patted his thigh again, causing him to immediately retract his leg as with a shudder. In that frantic moment of anguish, he'd forgotten someone was there. Reluctantly, he opened an eye to see who it was, his chest still heaving.

 "Thank you for staying with him yesterday," Kei said, kneeling on the bed with a placid smile on her face.

A hot breath of air was vented from his nose as he leaned his head against the smooth wall. "I need him alive and well, I can't let him remain like this."

 "He looks peaceful now. I hope he stays like this, peaceful. Do you want breakfast here?"

 At the suggestion of food, his lips moved against his will and curled up into a smile. "You can bring it here, yes." While he would have preferred to have eaten alone, he hated the idea of walking over to his room. Kei had already seen him writhing in pain, and the thought of others seeing him spasm and jerk from pain served to denigrate his pride.

She nodded silently. Her long dress flapped with the sharp motion she took to lift herself off the bed. She seemed like a figure borne out of a dream as her graceful steps approached the door, the train of her gown following like a river up the peak which was her hips.

With her gone he took the liberty to scoot off to the side, farther apart from Dongwoo. His hand ran through his hair as he sat observing the quiet chamber. It was bright unlike the day past and he guessed it was so because of him, to not startle him at the sight of a gloomy vacuum of space. He scoffed, his mind busy recounting the number of times he had slept in worst conditions. With his knee brought higher onto the bed, he let his own hand fall upon it as he quickly ran through yesterday's events.

A mingled sense of shame, anger, and odd humor brewed within. How could he have confused the feel of his precious sister for such a contrary heap of flesh? The two could not have been more polar opposites, yet he mistook them!

He scoffed and wagged his head, eyes busy at work with the study of the sleeper. He slept like a small bird nestled under its mother's wing. Kei was right, he was at peace. A once welcomed tingling tickled his chest, hurling his mind to seep into nostalgia. He drew in a sharp gasp, slapping his cheek for having dared to smile at Dongwoo. He was not Myungeun. 

 "I shouldn't care if he lives or dies, what's wrong with me?"

 He groaned and tilted his head back. There failed to be any noise except the snores of a person in harmonious slumber, and his own minute shuffling of hair and breath. He took a profound look at his scarred palms. These were the hands of a killer, the hands that were ready to kill again up until last night. His hands tightly balled up and he mulled over his laxity to let him live, but just as much mulled over whether such a murderous objective was correct in the first place. Those clamoring voices of accusation began to shout at him. With a pound of his fist on the wall he shut them up.

As soon as his fist made contact, he heard the frantic jerking of the door handle coming from outside. In rushed Kei that hastened to ask if he had fallen off the bed, a small host of servants bearing trays of food following behind. Her face was a still picture of bewilderment. She glanced at Myungsoo, at Dongwoo, and back at him.

 "Nobody has fallen. I accidentally hit my head against the wall."

 Her small lips were parted, with the suggestion of a query wanting to be asked glowing, but she chose to direct the servants to set up a table besides the bed instead. At her behest, the servants left the queen alone with the two after they accomplished their commands. 

 "Your bandage should be changed after you finish eating, and maybe you should have someone bathe you, too. Do you want to see the healer also? Perhaps he could apply more herbs to your wound."

 "Not needed," Myungsoo muttered while shifting his body to the side of the bed. His hand tore apart a peculiar fruit with teal-colored appendages hanging down like flacid arms. It squirted a bright green liquid and he retrieved the yellowish innards the peel contained. It brought a smirk to his face. "It's been a while since I ate parrot's fruit," he remarked.

Kei nodded and continued to observe him eat like a savage as he devoured a whole loaf of bread and chugged down two entire flasks of milk. She deemed that not only had a wolfish man been aroused from sleep, but a voracious hunger as well. 

It's not that it didn't occur to Myungsoo that he was in the audience of a sovereign, but it simply reduced to the fact that he didn't care. He was apathetic to civilized customs, only bowing to Oscuridaon forcibly when active in his former office. 

Across his tenure as general while in assembly with monarchs, he relished in the unique standing of his position as general of Oscuridaon's army. He could show zero reverence to a ruler and suffer no repercussions. He belched, drank, and ate like a wild animal before that sweet and docile queen.

He was completely ignorant of her until he chanced to glimpse at Kei's dovish countenance. All of a sudden, he became aware of a prickling of shame that had stung him.

 "What do you await here?" he asked with a scowl.

was stayed by a lingering curiosity, a sensation of intrigue. She couldn't help but compare this ogre to the gentle sleeper beside him. These two were friends? Her thoughts further delved to other queer particulars. Fully cognizant of his identity, she quested to know why she felt no real fear, no dread. She had heard plenty stories of this man's terrible accolades and stories of her own father cowering to him, but any sense of horror was absent. Was Dongwoo's presence existing in the same space the cause?

 "Well?" he pressed.

 She stammered, her brain occupied with rumbling ciphers about him. "You still need your bandages changed. If you'll let me, I'll do it."

 "Bah," he laughed, "A queen will serve me? Although I'd never met you before, your father bowed the knee to me, and you will serve me?" A mighty laugh burst out his mouth, but at the same time, a pain crippled his rib. 

She gasped and stretched out to help but was deterred by the slap of a hand. He spoke no word yet his eyes relayed his refusal for help. As he gained dominance over the pain he pushed himself up the bed with a big exertion of strength. It was then that Dongwoo finally awoke.

His eyes peered side to side and a pall of horror and confusion fell on him. His faculties had been abandoned to sinister whispers of accusation and he heeded them all, one by one.

You killer, they whispered, You have strayed from the straight path. You devil! You murderer! Nesher will throw you to hell! Nesher loves you no longer! they hissed. 

Like venom down blue veins did his brain, his very soul suffer the conflagration of guilt.

The two looked on helplessly as he started to wail and pluck at his hairs. A span of several minutes had elapsed since he awoke and now he was a whole different person. No longer was peace glowing, but anxiety and terror. Kei climbed up the bed but was kicked by a wild erratic motion of insanity.

 "Calm down!" Myungsoo exclaimed.

Outside the guards knocked on the door and eventually opened it but Kei was quick to shout her orders of being left alone with the two, commanding them to disperse and commence their watches around the castle. She knew their intimidating presence would only aggravate Dongwoo's condition.

 "I killed a man!" Dongwoo shouted.

 Kei braved to squeeze his leg and fronted a face of valor as she reminded him, "By killing him you rescued me! You rescued the remaining thousands who dared battle with those demons! They all died when you killed Amahr! He was the murderer, you were the savior!"

 "By killing him you saved me!" Myungsoo shouted.

Dongwoo's shrieking notes fell to more placated moans and whimpers. This was a momentary relief. The door swung open and Sujeong hastened to Kei's side, anxious to contain his wild cries. 

 "Shut the door, wench!" 

 Sujeong, mouth agape, nodded and listened to Myungsoo as though he bore the crown.

In the next moment Dongwoo hurled himself to the floor, blind to everyone around him. The only thing he saw was the chimera of fire-tongues, flickering figures that moved like phantoms, the gleam of a halberd- only delusions that could make traction with the phenomenal for the brain injected with hysteria. He squirmed and splayed out s like a child wanting to be saved from drowning.

A hand grasped his and in a window of clear reason, he glanced up, "Myungsoo!"

 "Calm down, you fool! You dare embarrass yourself before the woman you said you loved?"

 Myungsoo didn't question this present example of cognitive intelligence, but grasped it like a corsair before a trunk of booty. 

 "Myungsoo," he whimpered, "Nesher doesn't love me! I killed!" With a choked cry in his throat, he repeated, "I killed Amahr! I said I couldn't kill, but I did it!"

 His hand locked in a tight clutch with Dongwoo's. Concern and sympathy for someone other than his sister melded together in his inner man. In that raw and crude, fleshy part of his heart that was hidden beneath layers of scar tissue, a relentless groaning sounded. He was desperate, mentally questing for any sort of appeal that would snap him out of this self-induced hysteria. "You did what you had to! Else, I wouldn't be alive!"

 "Nesher won't forgive me!"

 "Shut up! Of course, he will!"

 "He won't!"

 "Listen," Myungsoo urged with a hand digging into Dongwoo's damp shoulder, "You said you would save even your father's killer. If you considered such mercy, shouldn't he show more since you're so devout to him? Since he claims to forgive all sins?"

 Dongwoo stared on with a vacant look, unaffected by any appeal or supplication of those around him. He was yielding to the dark fires of hell. Everything became shrouded in a somber fire, his ears became deaf, his sight became black, until a heavy weight fell to his . 

He gasped for air and sat up with a frantic haste. The two women to his side were busy being concerned not with him but with the person on top of his lap that bled a flood of crimson down his side. His eyes batted, his fingers fidgeted at the touch of the warm and red liquid. He screamed with panic and scanned his surroundings. Who was the one dying on his lap?

 "Dont die!" Kei groaned. She might've been queen over hundreds of thousands of people, who, with a wave of her hand could issue a decree and without doubt have it fulfilled, but she was not queen over death. Impotency swirled up and she choked.

Sujeong stood idly by, frozen in panic. She knew he would die at any moment, from the way he breathed to the way his skin was drained of all color.

Dongwoo looked down and made contact with Myungsoo's wide opened eyes that were growing dim. 

 "Myungsoo! You can't die!" His pleas were unheard, unaware of the ringing sound that flooded his friend's ears. Blood dripped from his fingers and marred his face as he frantically rubbed his eyes. There, like an ember sparking up from the striking of flint stones, a haunting memory was triggered.

This spot of ineptitude, of complete powerlessness to rescue one close to him forced the memory of his mother's final moments to resurface. He was as helpless now before the decayed face of the reaper as he was then. Fear lurked in his mind, fear that his friend would be taken away as was his mother. 

 He lifted his friend off his legs and scuttled to clear a space for him. He was quickly dying and all he could do was witness a slow but certain end.

 "I'm fine now! I'm fine now!" Dongwoo whimpered as if to bargain for his soul. That vacant expression that met his eyes haunted him. He knew what was coming next. He knew death was the inexorable engine of destruction that would steal his friend's soul.

Myungsoo's eyes lethargically roved him and what appeared like a subtle smile manifested on his red stained face. 

 "Don't die!"

 Dongwoo threw himself on the cold body of his friend and fiddled with the wound, somehow thinking he could close it with his bare fingers. Sujeong had snapped out of her trance and had rushed to bring the medicine men while Kei sat on her knees like a lost child, her gown slowly being dyed in scarlet.

Dongwoo wept even more bitterly than before. He lacked the ability to save. The only thing he could do was pray in this violent storm. "Nesher help!"

Myungsoo was a waning orb of light, darkness aded what was left of his senses. In this obscured realm a more stronger and brighter light began to shine. It came from Dongwoo's hands that were floating above his wound.