II. The Harder You Try, the More You Fail 

Dowon was waiting for him when Miran escorted him to the front doors.

By then, Baekhyun had collected himself enough to hold up another shallow conversation with Miran. He could barely hear himself speak, but if she found anything was wrong, she didn’t comment on it, just continued chattering on happily about what he thought was food. Or the weather. Baekhyun wasn’t sure if he were grateful for her chipper attitude or if he downright hated it. Or if he couldn’t bring himself to care anyway, because the only thing passing through his head was the conversation with his father—or, really, the man that was supposed to be his father but seemed nothing more than a stranger—and his words, repeating over and over in his head until he couldn’t make sense of them anymore.

The higher you climb, the harder you fall.

But why? What had he even meant? What had he done wrong, or what had he not done? By the time Miran bid her goodbye—a little too cheerfully, and Baekhyun wasn’t so out of it that he didn’t see the scowl Dowon sent her way—he had come up with more questions than he dared think he’d ever find answers to.

Dowon didn’t speak to him for the first couple of minutes, and Baekhyun trailed silently after his tutor. Finally, Dowon turned back to him, falling in step with his pace, and asked, “How was it?”

Baekhyun tried to think of an answer, but the only thing he could reach down into was the feeling of empty nothingness. In the middle of it, disappointment and pain and disbelief protested, but it was barred away from his grasp by the chasm. “It was good,” he said, then added, “sir.”

Dowon made a disgusted noise. “Good,” he echoed. “One would think you learned to talk a bit more after hearing Miran jabber on for so long.”

Miran. A little while ago, Baekhyun had been curious as to what had happened between Dowon and Miran. Now, the thought felt fleeting—he didn’t want it to be, but it was, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Have you met him before?” Baekhyun ended up asking.

A stupid question, one in which he was almost certain Dowon would tell him off about. He wasn’t sure what sort of answer he was hoping for; that he was a kind man? That it was only Baekhyun that he had treated in such a manner? Or that he was cold to everyone, that those words—the higher you climb, the harder you fall—hadn’t been some sort of warning but just the sort of thing he said? Baekhyun really hadn’t been waiting to meet a benevolent, loving father. He had known that much, at least. But part of him wished that while it was selfish, his father would’ve favoured him because he was the one who had surpassed all his siblings, he was the one they called prodigy, and because out of the rest of his children, he should’ve been the best. It didn’t matter if his father didn’t care about the rest, but Baekhyun had hoped that he would’ve at least cared about him.

“I’ve met him,” Dowon was saying. “Although it’s not often he calls for an audience with many of us. You should be honoured.”

Honoured, Baekhyun echoed. The word crumbled into meaningless syllables along with the rest of them.

The path dipped, slanting towards the residential areas. Baekhyun could see his home from where they were, half a minute away. Lapsing back into silence, both of them walked quietly towards it.

Dowon stopped when they got to the gate at the front yard. “Get changed,” he said. “I’ll wait for you. You have more training scheduled for the afternoon.”

Training, again—it was as if nothing changed.

Baekhyun nodded. 

***

Changing into his training clothing didn’t take much time, but for a while, Baekhyun stood in front of the mirror and surveyed the face staring back at him. He hadn’t really had much time to process; not completely, at least, and he wasn’t certain he had processed anything, but amidst the yawning hole of nothingness he felt had arisen a new sort of feeling; a determination, albeit a frustrated, desperate one. If he wasn’t good enough, then he’d be better.

The higher you climb, the harder you fall.

But he wouldn’t fall. 

***

Dowon was the one training him that evening, and his tutor, despite his thinner frame, was vicious when it came to fighting.

Baekhyun wondered absentmindedly whether or not it had to do with Miran, or if his mind were playing tricks on him. He blocked a blow with his shortsword, although Dowon fought with two jagged blades, and the other one cut towards him without mercy. He ducked, rolled, only for his foot to catch him on the side. The force of the kick sent Baekhyun into the dust of the arena, landing on his chin.

His tutor stalked over as Baekhyun, grabbed a fistful of the fabric on his shoulder, and yanked him to his feet. Baekhyun spat out a mouthful of gravel and dust, coughing uncontrollably.

“Hyunjoong was right,” he snapped. “Sloppy work.”

Something like a snarl rose up, and Baekhyun pushed himself to his feet again, trembling. He raised his blade in a defensive position. “I can still fight.”

Dowon raised an eyebrow. “Clean up, Baekhyun. You’re in no shape. Sleep it off and we’ll continue tomorrow.”

Baekhyun wasn’t too sure just what was going through his head when he lunged at Dowon, half-determined to finish the fight and another part of him near-panicking over the comment. He didn’t feel tired, and her certainly wasn’t in no shape. He could continue. He was fine.

He didn’t make it far. Dowon didn’t look like he was anticipating the blow, but before Baekhyun reached him, he had lashed out at his shortsword with his own weapon, knocking it out of his hands before sweeping his leg under him. Baekhyun tripped forward and nearly face-planted into the dirt, except someone snatched his collar before he could hit the ground. He was hauled roughly to his feet until he was standing face to face with Dowon.

His tutor’s expression was livid. “Your order,” he snapped, “was to go back right this instant.”

Realization flooded through him, and then horror. Even if it were training, he had technically just attacked Dowon, a much higher ranking official than him, and if Dowon chose to report it, he—

“Baekhyun,” Dowon repeated. “Go home. I don’t want to deal with you right now.”

“Sir, I’m sorry—”

“Go back,” the man snarled. “That’s a command. You shouldn’t need me to remind you what happens if you disobey an order from a superior.”

Breathing hard, Baekhyun managed to nod. The scrape on his chin, the cuts all over him—all of them felt like absolutely nothing.

He wasn’t sure what he felt about that. 

***

Baekhyun couldn’t sleep.

He was exhausted, physically and mentally. He had shoved all the rest of the thoughts of his father into the back of his mind, refusing to acknowledge them anymore. If he hadn’t been good enough, then he would be better. It was simple. It was nothing. Until he was good enough to impress his father.

He didn’t let himself think of any other option, even though there were many. 

***

“I sent you home early to rest,” Dowon said brusquely the next day. “You don’t look like you slept at all.”

He was more or less right even though it wasn’t as if Baekhyun had any control over whether or not he slept or not—or willingly chose not to. Still, Baekhyun winced and bowed his head. He had seen how terrible he looked in the morning when he had woken up, the healer’s charm having already faded and his own features pale and cut and bruised. “Sorry, sir.”

“You’ll stay awake through all of your lessons,” Dowon snapped. “I expect you to make up for the training you missed yesterday, and we will be—”

Before he could finish, a knock sounded on the door.

For a moment, teacher and student both stood still in shock. No one came by at such a time, and Baekhyun had barely heard anyone ever knock on his door. Knocking meant that they weren’t allowed, or weren’t high ranked enough to simply come inside like all of his trainers and Dowon did.

The man had collected himself, motioning at Baekhyun to follow. The knocks sounded again, and Baekhyun trailed after him, just the smallest spark of curiosity lighting up amidst the exhaustion and numbness.

Dowon got to the door by the time the third set of knocks started to sound. “What is it—” he started.

Baekhyun’s first thought was that she was no longer wearing read, but a more modest gown of midnight blue with high collars and frilly sleeves and billowed behind her each step like it was made of wind itself. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a neat bun, and her eyes sparkled when she met his gaze. Blood red lips pulled into a grin, showing perfect white teeth.

“Dowon,” Miran cooed, “so glad I found you already! I was afraid it would take much longer."

The hand gripping the knob of the door clenched until his knuckles were white. Somehow, Dowon managed enough to keep his voice calm, a layer of careful indifference as he addressed the woman. “Why are you here?”

She pouted at him. “That’s not the way to treat a lady,” she complained.

“You’re not a lady,” Dowon replied darkly. “Cut to the chase, Miran. I don’t have time for your antics.”

She peered back to look at Baekhyun. “So cold, this one,” she tsked, shaking her head in mock disappointment. “I like you much better, Baekhyun. Very polite.”

Dowon seemed to have lost his temper again. Baekhyun marvelled at just how little it took from Miran to throw his tutor off.  “Why are you here?” he gritted out harshly. “Shouldn’t you be occupied right now?”

“Nope,” Miran sung back. “I’ve been sent to fetch you. The family leader wants to see you in, oh, twenty minutes? Better get ready! I’m sure you don’t want to go over dressed in that.”

Now Dowon looked downright offended. He glanced down at his clothing, a grey shirt tucked into black pants, his cloak at the back of the chair, and frowned. “There is nothing wrong with this,” he snapped, but for a moment, Baekhyun thought that he looked slightly flustered. Still, he supposed all of their clothing looked drab compared to Miran, with her midnight blue dress and every part of her screaming elegance.

“Whether or not there is something wrong with your outfit, Dowon, your father is expecting you,” she said. “So I suggest you start making your way there right now.”

He sneered at her. “Why did he send you? I’m sure he keeps you busy with other things.”

Miran’s eyes flashed, but it was the only visible sign that Dowon’s words have truly affected her. She lifted her chin. “I’m here because he wants to speak to you,” she repeated calmly, “and because I didn’t finish my chat with Byun Baekhyun yet. Are you going to leave now?”

Dowon, who had just retreated slightly to pick up his cloak, whirled on her. “You are not talking to Baekhyun,” he snarled.

Miran raised an eyebrow, somehow managing to look graceful when doing it. “You don’t have the authority to stop me.”

“As his teacher—”

“As a member of the Byun family, you have been summoned by your superior. Your father hasn’t forbidden me from leaving, as you might know, and I’m free to do what I want. And that includes talking to Baekhyun. It doesn’t matter if he’s your pupil right now, Dowon—” his name was spat out, this time with true venom, and Baekhyun was almost taken aback, “—because you’re needed elsewhere.”

Dowon opened his mouth to protest, eyes livid and burning. Before he could exchange more pleasantries with Miran, he stepped in front of his tutor. “I’ll be okay,” he interjected before Dowon spoke. “I’ll go through the lesson today and we can continue when you’re back.”

The man looked like he wanted to say more, and Baekhyun was almost anticipating another earful before his tutor gave a stiff nod. He sent one more disgusted look at Miran. “So he gave you permission to leave,” he scoffed, lip curling. “Didn’t think you would actually do it. Isn’t it shameful to walk through the family when everyone knows you’re a commoner and his ?”

Before Miran could say anything else, Dowon had disappeared out of the door. It slammed angrily behind him, and Baekhyun winced at the noise.

Miran stared at the wooden frame even after Dowon had left, as if she could see through it. After a couple of agonizingly long couple of seconds, she turned back to look at Baekhyun, and gave him a small smile. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” she apologized. Her face was completely empty of any emotion. “I know I’m already inside, but may I come in?”

Baekhyun didn’t suppose no was even an answer anymore, so he nodded at Miran. He wasn’t sure who could say no to her (apart from Dowon, maybe). She had some sort of charm when she talked, an aura of ease than she exuded that made everything she said and did feel smooth.

“I can make you some tea,” Baekhyun offered. “If you’d like. And the servants can make something to eat. And—”

Miran laughed. Her laugh sounded like bells, and for the first time since the last night, a bit of ease mitigated the strange numbness that seemed to have been rapidly spreading. She was just so… pretty.

“Thank you, Baekhyun,” she said. “But just tea is fine, if that’s convenient for you.”

That was how Miran ended up sitting at his table, tapping her nails over the polished top as Baekhyun waited for the water in the kettle to boil. She was quieter now, and Baekhyun desperately wanted to ask her about Dowon. And his father. But he kept his mouth shut, waiting for the water to boil. He couldn’t ask too many questions. She was close to his father after all, and—

“Baekhyun,” Miran said. “How was the meeting with your father yesterday? I realized that I never really asked you.”

The question made him falter, and just at the moment, the kettle began to whistle. Baekhyun picked up a cup to pour the water for her.

“It was good,” he said carefully.

“Just good?” Miran asked.

“We didn’t… talk much.”

She watched him with her raised eyebrows as Baekhyun set down the teacup in front of her. She picked up the handle, gave it a delicate whiff, before letting out a content hum. “Any sugar?” she asked.

Baekhyun brought out the sugar. Miran scooped three large spoonfuls—it was enough to horrify him, but he kept his mouth shut—before lifting the teacup to her lips and taking a small sip. She frowned, added another spoonful of sugar, and stirred it before drinking again. She met Baekhyun’s gaze with a smile. “This is lovely tea,” she said.

Baekhyun didn’t know what to say because it seemed more sugar than tea, so he poured himself a glass of water and sat down in front of Miran. “Is there… a reason you’re here?” he asked carefully.

She raised an eyebrow at him over her teacup. Baekhyun couldn’t understand how Dowon wasn’t intimidated by her. It wasn’t as if she were scary, per say, but every part of her seemed so perfect and elegant and something about her disapproval (or even just the questioning look in her eyes) made him fidget.

“I don’t mean you can’t be here,” he amended. “It’s just that I didn’t expect you. And I haven’t really seen you around until yesterday, so I didn’t…” 

Miran waved it off. “It’s fine,” she replied. “It makes sense that you’re curious. Although I did want to see you again. I found you nice company yesterday. Everyone around me is so boring.”

“Even my father?”

Miran set her teacup down. She was perched at the edge of the chair, back straight, as she gave him a sharp smile. “Not your father, of course.”

Baekhyun pressed his lips together. It had been at least ten minutes since Dowon left, and probably a bit longer—if not much longer—before his tutor got back. And while he knew he shouldn’t have been more curious, he blurted the question out to Miran before he could think to stop himself. “What is he like?”

She had finished her cup of tea (and the four spoonfuls of sugar to go with it). “Your father?” Miran asked. “Why?”

Taken aback, Baekhyun could only stare. She leaned forward. “Do you want to know him better?”

He opened his mouth, shut it, and then struggled to find an answer. For some reason, the yes he wanted to say refused to come out, stuck at the back of his throat, and all Baekhyun could do was nod.

She seemed to scrutinizing him for a couple more long seconds, letting the silence fill the gap, and Baekhyun waited nervously for some sort of verdict. Finally, Miran raised a shoulder and let it fall. “I don’t know what you think he’s like,” she replied. “But I’m afraid that your impression is most likely wrong.”

Baekhyun blinked. “Wrong?” he echoed. “What do you mean?”

“I think that’s for you to find out.”

“But my father is—”

She stood up abruptly, and rested a hand on his shoulder. Baekhyun nearly flinched at the sudden contact. “I’m afraid I have overstayed my welcome,” she said quietly. “I don’t mean to offend you, Baekhyun. I simply don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Miran—”

“I have some duties I must attend to before leaving,” she told him, then offered a small smile as she headed towards the door. “I’ll see you around?”

Baekhyun didn’t have time to say anything else before she had moved away from the kitchen and headed towards the door. It was only when she was slipping on her shoes that he gathered himself enough to run after her, if only to at least her out of his house. She was stepping outside when he got there.

“Thank you for the tea,” she said. “Good luck with your lessons.”

Miran was off before Baekhyun could say another word. 

***

It was hours before Dowon returned. Baekhyun had gone through the lesson by himself, but none of it seemed to sink in when he worked, and by the time he was being questioned on the material, he could barely recall anything except Miran’s dreaded words. They made no sense, Baekhyun told himself; she made no sense. But still they lingered.

He got an earful from Dowon, who was already in a bad mood, before the man stormed off to his other duties. Baekhyun was assigned to his usual trainer, who gave him more scratches and bruises than usual. Then he was sent to work on his power, except water and wind raged more angrily than usual, and Baekhyun could barely get the spark to become a flame. Earth refused to obey his commands. The trainer, a woman of around forty, sent him home with a couple of straps to his hands.

The servants had left a meal, still steaming hot, on the table when he got back. Baekhyun barely touched it before heading off to bed. He couldn’t bring himself to feel the guilt that he’d simply left everything they’d done untouched. He couldn’t bring himself to feel much.

The higher you climb, the harder you fall.

I’m afraid that your impression is most likely wrong.

Maybe he didn’t feel nothing. Maybe it was a different feeling, one Baekhyun couldn’t pinpoint, and it was worse than nothing. 

***

Baekhyun didn’t sleep any better the next night. Dowon demanded him to go to the healer so that she could make a contraption that would help him sleep. He had to force himself to concentrate on all of his lessons, and it was so hard to even think, but Baekhyun managed to get through without arousing any more suspicion. 

***

The potion worked. For the first time in three days, Baekhyun woke up with the dark bags under his eyes lighter than before, feeling a lot less tired.

His concentration, however, didn’t improve much. Dowon scolded him. His trainers did as well. 

***

On the sixth day, the potion seemed to have worn off sooner, because Baekhyun woke up in the middle of the night. Judging from the position of the moon, it wasn’t anywhere near morning, so he settled back into his bed and tried to fall asleep again. Sleep didn’t come, and it was a little too obvious when he headed down for his lessons.

On the eighth day, the potion stopped working. Baekhyun managed an hour or two of restless sleep before he was up again. Dowon looked like he wanted to pull his hair out when he saw him. Baekhyun didn’t feel any better. 

***

On the eleventh night after Baekhyun had met his father, sleep became impossible.

It wasn’t that he was thinking about too much. For long periods of time, he lay in his bed, thinking of absolutely nothing, but sleep simply wouldn’t come. His mind refused to fall asleep. The first couple of days, his thoughts were filled with how he’d manage to impress his father, how to get his attention again, how to get more than those dreaded words of the higher you climb, the harder you fall. Now, though, for some reason, the thoughts felt further and further away.

It wasn’t as if he were truly falling behind in his lessons. By around the fifth day, Dowon seemed to think that his performance was more or less back to normal, and it was—Baekhyun finished his lessons, his trainers stopped complaining about how sloppy his movements had become, and everything, apart from his thoughts and his sleeping schedule, had returned to normal.

But things felt different, even if they weren’t different. It wasn’t as if Baekhyun had particularly enjoyed his lessons before, but there felt like there was a reason behind them. He was working towards something. Now, every lesson felt useless. He wasn’t sure what the point was, even if he told himself over and over that it was to impress his father.

Maybe it was Miran’s words. He hadn’t seen the woman since the second day, but she haunted his thoughts almost as frequently as his father did. Baekhyun didn’t know what to make of either of them. He wanted to hate Miran for what she said, but that would mean he would have to hate his father as well, and he didn’t think he could. Or didn’t want to.

The distinction was so vague now.

Another ten minutes of lying in silence, and Baekhyun couldn’t stand it anymore. He got up, opened the window, and lay back down.

Vasileian springs were still chilly, and despite the fact that the snow was on its way to melting, it took at least a full month before it was fully gone. The wind that wafted inside was much colder than he expected, and it didn’t take long before Baekhyun was wide awake.

Cursing himself, he got up, shivering in the now-chilly room. After a couple of moments of contemplation, he pulled on a cloak and headed downstairs to pour himself a glass of water.

The house was painfully empty when he headed down the stairs, each step sending an ominous creak that ate greedily at the silence. Baekhyun managed to strike a lamp to step into the kitchen, but before he made it, the sound of wind whistled through the house. He froze.

The draft blew down the hallway, and Baekhyun peered over. The door was slightly ajar, too heavy to be pushed open fully by the wind, but enough for him to feel the breeze. The floor was cool against his bare feet, and Baekhyun padded over silently.

Someone must’ve forgotten to close it, Baekhyun realized. Perhaps Dowon. He had seemed a bit distracted, if not preoccupied, even if Baekhyun hadn’t dared to bring it up. He had a feeling that it had to do with Miran, but it would be an even worse idea to bring that up, so he kept his mouth shut.

He stopped in front of the door. Outside, the inner city of Vasileia was surprisingly peaceful. Baekhyun could see the walls in the distance, then on the other side, the central buildings that surrounded the garden in the heart of the inner city. The cold was strangely refreshing, and he stood peering out from the crack at the door, and all of a sudden, Baekhyun wanted to leave.

If he stayed, it would just be another sleepless night. And no one had ever said that he technically wasn’t allowed to leave the house—really, it was just assumed by everyone that it was forbidden, but Baekhyun didn’t recall actually hearing anyone tell him the rule. Perhaps, he reasoned, fresh air would do him good. All he had to do was avoid the guards that were stationed outside, which wasn’t hard, because from Dowon’s complaining, Vasileia’s security had loosened much after the city being peaceful for so long. Just a walk. Some fresh air.

Slipping on boots and pulling his hood over his head, Baekhyun slipped out the door and shut it carefully behind him. The path was empty, so, quietly, he headed down towards the wall.

There was a small path that s around the inner’s city’s walls—along the path, someone had grown an assortment of flowers. He had found it two years ago, and every spring, the flowers there were the first ones to bud. Now, as Baekhyun snuck through empty streets to arrive at the path, many of the shoots had crawled out from under the snow and started to grow.

The path was dark, only the light of the moon illuminating it, but at least it meant there were no guards. Baekhyun knelt down in front of the larger shoots, the green having turned a dark grey in the night. He wasn’t sure which flower it would be when summer—the few short weeks they could call summer—started.

Another chilly breeze sent the plants quivering. Baekhyun shivered as well, pulling his cloak tighter, and continued his walk down the path.

Part of him knew that even if he had reasoned that no one had explicitly stated he couldn’t leave his house at such a late hour, if he were found out, there would be consequences. Still, there were no guards as Baekhyun walked, and the fresh air made him feel just a bit better. The small but sure signs of life made him feel… something.

Not much, but it was a relief against the relentless empty chasm. Or perhaps it wasn’t empty. Baekhyun was too scared to find out what lay at the bottom of it, and it was especially during sleepless nights that it demanded his attention.

This was a distraction. This felt better. He could breathe better now, he could force his thoughts away from the direction he dreaded it going to.

Baekhyun headed further down the path.

He wasn’t sure how long it was when the thought hit him that he should return home and attempt to sleep. The clouds had moved so they were covering the moon, and Baekhyun could feel the rain gathering overtop, the water whispering to his power. It was better to return home before he got drenched, better to get rest so that he could focus on his next lesson, better to—

Baekhyun paused. On his left, something peeked out from one of the bushes. A jagged edge of black, not the same color as the rest of the rock. Not significant enough to catch much attention, especially when not many people took the path, but he found himself wandering closer. His books squeaked in the wet snow, which was mostly on the verge of melting. Dead grass scrunched underneath his feet, and he edged around the sharp bristles of the bush to peer at it a bit better.

It was well concealed, but Baekhyun didn’t have to look twice to realize that it wasn’t a piece of stone that was darker; it was a hole in the wall. He pushed the branches aside to look at it better.

It wasn’t large—if he tried, it would’ve been a tight squeeze through, although it was possible. He couldn’t see what was on the other side, but it was just as dark. Baekhyun stood in front of it on the wet snow, knowing very well that if he wasn’t breaking the rules by wandering around at night, going through (or even checking out) the hole in the wall was a sure violation.

He peered at it. Maybe if he found out what was on the other side—or even just simply reported it—he would be rewarded. Maybe his father would hear about it. Maybe—

Baekhyun had the chattering voices before he saw the lantern lights around the corner. He nearly cursed aloud, all plans about reporting the hole going down the drain. After a moment of panic, he shoved past the bristles of the bush and tucked himself into the hole in the wall.

The branches covered him well enough, and the wall was so thick that he could crouch in the hole. The guards drew closer, and he realized that he had left two pairs of footsteps leading up to the bush.

Panicking even more, Baekhyun flicked his wrist at the snow. A whole section melted immediately into a puddle.

It was even more suspicious than the footprints. By then, the light of the lantern the guards were carrying was a bright, warning circle in his peripheral, and Baekhyun squeezed his hand shut as he tried to turn the water back into snow. Slowly—a little too slowly—it began to frost over. The four guards on duty talked loudly, as if oblivious to how fragile the prior silence was, as Baekhyun tried to turn the water into snow. Much of it was ice, he knew, but if he could make a snow covering…

It was delicate work. By the time he had made the area look like it had been untouched, the guards were nearly passing the spot. Baekhyun held his breath as their conversations drifted to him.

“…many people saw her,” one of them was saying. “So I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

His companion gave a low whistle. “She is pretty, though. For a commoner, at least.”

Her. Commoner. Miran. He listened attentively, now slightly more interested. The third man slapped the last speaker. “She’s way out of your league,” he sneered. “Besides, she only—”

Baekhyun opened his palm again. The slight bits of water on the path froze over, and with a shout of alarm, the one who had been speaking slid down.

There was a thump as he landed inelegantly on the ice. Adrenaline coursing through him, Baekhyun had to bite down the laughter that surfaced. This felt good. Wrong, but good.

The other three guards burst out laughing. One of them hauled their fallen friend from the ground, slapping him on the back. “She wouldn’t even look your way,” he teased, “so don’t even think…”

Their voices faded. Baekhyun let go of the long breath he had been holding.

It was wrong. So, so wrong. Hiding from his family, breaking rules, sending one of his superiors slipping on the ice—if anyone found out, the punishment would probably be unimaginable. But for some reason, the feeling when he had hid—strange as it was, there was something about it that eased the ugly feelings inside, and the relief was enough for Baekhyun to contemplate what previously would’ve been unimaginable. Even then, part of himself screamed—the logical part—that this was unacceptable.

He turned around from the half-sitting half-squatting position to see the other side of the hole. It was also black, but when he reached out to touch, the thing—whatever it was—rippled. Baekhyun drew his hand back in surprise before he realized that it was cloth.

He remained still for a couple of seconds, listening for any sounds on the other side. The guards had gotten far enough that their voices were swallowed up by the night, and the other side didn’t seem to have anyone.

Baekhyun knew that it was a terrible idea. The moment he stepped foot outside the inner city—the moment he left, he was on dangerous ground. If he got caught, then it would be over.

It wasn’t anything he should’ve even been contemplating. Four more years of learning under Dowon, and he would take the test and become an official member of the family, and he would have more freedom. Four more years. If he stepped outside now, there was a chance that he would ruin everything he had worked for. They could kill him. After all, the Byun family had executed for smaller offences.

Baekhyun stared at the black cloth obscuring the outside. What would the outer city be like? What would it be like, away from the confines of the inner city? What were the people like? The thought felt—or maybe was—forbidden. He shouldn’t have been wondering such things. He was supposed to spend his time on training, learning, improving. Not going against everything he had been taught.

For a little while, the guilt was enough to keep him stationary. Then it was swallowed up by the awful pit of nothingness, stowed with the other raging emotions, and Baekhyun didn’t allow himself to think about it more.

The consequences could happen. It didn’t matter anyway.

Taking one more glance behind him, Baekhyun pushed away the cloth obscuring the exit and stepped out to the other side of the wall.

_________

Baekhyun is literally a small bean here, and it's so weird comparing him to Cutlass Baekhyun :')

Again, comments are very much appreciated! Guess who we'll be meeting next chapter :D