A little over four years had flown by fast after the kidnapping of his brother. Yoongi grew into an adolescent fourteen-year-old boy. He was not shy anymore and totally relaxed with Song Il-Kook. He brought along a lot of trouble and tested the patience of his adoptive father. The boy caused a lot of commotion.

Yoongi had perfected himself in martial arts and he knew all about Gongju's history. He was fluent in the ancient language and memorized all the signs and lettering of it. Finally, it was about time. Yoongi was now ready to join the Black Army. He had waited for this day to come for four years. Today he drew the last line of chalk onto his wall. He could not wait any longer.

He left his room and staggered tiredly into the bathroom. The cold floor beneath his feet almost made him shiver. Now he was perky. The wind blew loudly outside, it was freezing cold, although it was still in the early autumn. Weeks earlier, the leaves of the trees already had fallen to the grounds, and the streams had frozen. The weather was going crazy. Yoongi stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower. Then he noticed that he had forgotten to lock the door. Song Il-Kook was home, and the teenaged boy certainly did not want his adoptive father to enter the place. Yoongi got out of the shower, tiptoed to the door, locked it, and then he could finally take a shower.

When he the tap, ice-cold water flowed over his face and his body. Yoongi screamed loudly and cursed. He hated the cold.

“Yoongi? Are you alright in there?”, the nobleman asked through the door.

He was passing the bathroom to get to the kitchen but stood still because of the loud noise. Yoongi gasped, choked briefly on the water, and replied that everything was fine.

The cold water ran down his body. He back his short, pitch-black fringes with his hands. His face was exposed to the flow. He kept his hair shorter now. His taste and attitude had changed a lot over the last few years. He turned off the water, picked up his soap and rubbed too much of it into his palms, then smeared the slippery foam in his wet hair and gently washed up. He the tap again. This time the water was cooking. Yoongi cursed once again.

Song Il-Kook came back to the bathroom door and even knocked this time.

“Are you sure about that?”, he asked the troublemaker.

“Yes father! Everything is fine!”, Yoongi assured him.

When he finished, he put on his robe and went to the sink to brush his teeth. He would always brush his teeth before breakfast, since he was too lazy to go back into the bathroom afterwards. In the evening he had to brush before going to bed, otherwise Song Il-Kook would scold him badly.

Yoongi finally left the bathroom and hurried on his tip toes into his room. He dried quickly still properly off, put on fresh black underpants, and looked at his reflection in the mirror. The boy thought that he was perfect and way too handsome for this world. Then he took some expensive clothes and threw them on his bed. The fabrics were from high-quality. Yoongi put on a pair of black, baggy pants and a sleeveless, black shirt. He slipped into red socks and quickly rubbed a towel over his hair and hurried off to the kitchen. The towel was loose on his head. He could smell breakfast all the way up the stairs. He loved meat at all costs. Anytime he could eat it. Yoongi slid down the railing and landed skillfully in front of the Gayageum and Haegeum. In all these four years he never wanted to learn either one of these instruments. All he was about was professionalizing his landings. The nobleman admonished him very often, but once it became a habit, it could no longer be changed easily.

When he arrived in the pleasantly warm kitchen, Song Il-Kook sat at the table as expected and ate an apple while reading the news of Gongju. The newspaper rolls, so to speak.

“Morning!”, Yoongi greeted him happily and joined him at the kitchen table.

“Morning? It is already noon.”, the nobleman pointed out without looking at the teenaged boy.

Yoongi ignored his remark. He did not want to spoil the mood.

“The time has come!”, he said happily.

Song Il-Kook looked at him sadly and shook his head. He did not like the way his adopted son was happy and excited about this day. He put aside the newspaper rolls and looked at the troublesome boy.

“If you join, you cannot exit so easily. You become an enemy of the kingdom, all Gongju and Gyeryong. Just like me. You will have to kill... Are you even aware of that?”, Song Il-Kook tried to change his mind.

Yoongi looked at him blankly.

“Hey, I do not care what I have to do and what not. I promised you that I would join. Besides, I want it. Also, it was you who wanted me to join first”, he argued, stuffed lamb skewers into his mouth and continued, “You wanted me to, so why would you change your mind?”

The nobleman put aside the red apple and shook his head again. The last four years had aged him. Multiple wrinkles adorned his forehead and eyes.

“I do not want you to make the wrong decision”, he replied soulfully, “You are my son and I…”

“What a nonsense, you are one of them too, and you are fine!”, Yoongi interrupted him.

He had got used to interrupting the nobleman’s words over the years and rarely apologized for his shameless behavior. He no longer talked politely either. Maybe the nobleman failed with his upbringing? Song Il-Kook sighed.

“I know you are worried, but I am not the little boy from four years ago. I can take care of myself now.”, Yoongi argued confidently, “Plus, you just get more wrinkles if you keep worrying about me. You are the leader of the Black Army anyway. If you cannot stop yourself from worrying, then promote me as your personal protector. I will just stay close to you. Or appoint me as your successor and voila, I will be the next leader.”

He laughed to his own words and stuffed the rest of the lamb skewers in his mouth.

“That is not funny, my son. Even if I would love to do that, I cannot decide it on my own. What would my fighters think?”, Song Il-Kook explained, “You too have to work yourself up just like everyone else.”

Meanwhile, Yoongi took a second plate of skewers. The boy usually only ate meat. Sometimes he would also add some vegetables to his food, but mostly he ate the tasty, flavored lamb skewers.

“So what? It does not matter what they think. Your son will be your successor, everyone expects that anyway.”, Yoongi wailed.

That was one of the reasons why the fighters of the Black Army were not allowed to have children of their own. Families could lead to disputes among the fighters. The hierarchy of the Black Army was not to be influenced by consanguinity or any subordinate. Equality amongst everyone was highly praised and most valued. Only the leader and his two protectors were on a different level, everyone else had to respect each other the same way.

Song Il-Kook glared at the troublesome boy and shook his head once again.

“You never learn, do you? Do not talk with your filled mouth!”, he admonished his adoptive son.

“Sorry- I do not do it on purpose”, Yoongi apologized and swallowed what he had chewed and took another big bite.

The nobleman kept shaking his head.

“If I get wrinkles, it is because of you and your habit to speak with a full mouth.”, he added with a frown.

The boy burst out laughing, then coughed heavily, because he had almost choked on the meat.

“You see, swallow before you laugh or talk”, suggested the nobleman a little amused.

“I am good... No worries”, the teenaged boy gasped, embarrassed.

There was a short silence afterwards. Song Il-Kook got up and took a bottle of red wine. He sat down at the table and poured some of the sweet liquid into a little cup.

“Men are like wine, my son. Some turn to vinegar, but the best improve with age.”, he added with a gentle voice and sipped, “You are still fourteen, you do not have enough experience and knowledge about the Black Army. You do not know the importance of it yet.”

Yoongi put down his food and leaned back on his seat. He crossed his arms and lifted his chin. He seemed very annoyed by the words of the nobleman.

“If you want me to become an experienced fighter, let me experience first.”, he said and stared at Song Il-Kook with an angry expression, “You must give me a chance, so I can figure it all out and improve myself. How am I supposed to age well if you do not let me?”

Song Il-Kook sipped again and then slowly put the cup down. He looked at the boy and sighed. He did not like the stubbornness of his adoptive son at all. But he was right.

“Where will I be initiated? I mean... where do I join?”, Yoongi continued and added cheerfully, “Yes! It is going to be fine! I have been training for so long just for this to happen! You know I deserve to join-”

Song Il-Kook interrupted his cry of joy by slamming his palm on the tabletop. The wine in his cup swayed and all the dishes clanked.

“I do not want you to join!”, he admitted with a frown.

He was already very fond of Yoongi. He did not mean to draw him into this mess, to turn him into someone who only felt hatred and was meant to hurt others. He was far too important to the nobleman. Yoongi was not just a boy he had raised to become one of his fighters but now he was like a son. The son, with all his quirks and flaws that Song Il-Kook would have wished for if he only had a normal life.

“Oh, come on! Nothing will happen to me. Besides, I am not the first person to go through this ceremony, right?”, Yoongi contradicted and probed further, “Where is it going to happen?”

Song Il-Kook got up once again and put away the newspaper rolls and the wine. He scratched the back of his head and walked up to the boy. He looked down at Yoongi with a strict face.

“You have to go to the temple with me. My fighters are probably already waiting for you there. I still wanted to change your mind…”, he relented.

Yoongi had met countless fighters throughout the four years. Many of them loathed him because their leader personally raised and taught him, which was a first in all these years.

Song Il-Kook left the kitchen and came back with a large wooden box. It was decorated with silver patterns and seemed heavy. He carefully placed it on top of the table and opened the lid. Yoongi was watching him attentively and glanced curiously into the box.

“This is yours now, my son. You must wear these things to every meeting and every assignment.”, the nobleman explained and added, “Unless I say something else. Put this on. I will be waiting in the backyard, hurry up!”

Yoongi nodded nervously. He rummaged through the box, in which there was a black cloak, black combat trousers, a sleeveless black shirt and a black cloth.

“Oh and... put on black socks. You know, only black is allowed, no colors!”, Song Il-Kook said before he left the kitchen for good.

Yoongi quickly cleared the kitchen table, cleaned it all up, grabbed the wooden box and hurried immediately to his room. He replaced his red socks with a black pair. Then he changed into the black attire quickly as possible, put on the cloak and tied the black cloth around his wrist. Yoongi took another look in the mirror and put up the hood of his cloak. He gently reached for the symbol of the Black Army depicted on the hood. He used to detest these people, and now he was about to join them. Suddenly he fixed his eyes on his golden necklace. It was the only thing that had remained from his past. The necklace, which was possibly the reason for his cursed past. He stared at the golden pendant for five minutes straight and then finally tucked it under his shirt. He knotted the ties of the cloak on his chest and grinned at his own reflection in the mirror. He liked his new outfit as it was all in black. He thought it looked amazing nevertheless he felt a little strange in it. He felt like a freak. When he finally finished, he hurried out of the Giwajib and locked the door. Song Il-Kook valued the security of his property very much.

Yoongi excitedly hurried to the backyard and stomped across the sandy training ground with a big grin. The wooden Makiwara was already very worn out. The hot spring steamed.