a/n: I realize the last update for this was ages ago.. 

but I'm still working on this story.. thinking about it..

just like all of my stories.. it'll just take a little longer.

thank you for reading and being patient <3

*

Hebrews 11:1

Now faith is confidence in what we hope for

and assurance about what we do not see.

*

Mister Lee falls ill about seven months into his new task. Pneumonia. The house maids take turns in flying up the stairs whenever there’s a moment to spare, check on the poor old sod and whether he’s still alive. During supper on Wednesday night Sooyoung goes up and comes back down sobbing. There’s a lot of commotion after that. The maids cry and weep and hold each other through their misery. It is most likely not the grief of mister Lee’s that they mourn, rather grief of family far away and funerals not attended. They are told to keep quiet either way, and Jongin and Joonmyun are assigned the task of carrying mister Lee downstairs and getting him onto the automobile that drives up to the back door. They slide the lifeless body into the black steel, catching glimpses of each other’s expression carefully hidden by their professional mask of indifference. It’s dark out, grey clouds indicating a storm’s coming up, and as the car roars away, Jongin thinks he can’t differentiate the black of the sky and the way the ends of mister Lee’s fingers had looked, stiff and dark and horrible.

For butler Lee, it’s a huge hassle. They get a replacement to come up to the palace until he can find a suitable replacement amongst the staff, and he demands there will be nothing else said of it. Once, late at night, Jongin tries talking to Joonmyun in a moment of courage when they’re both in their room. He asks why poor mister Lee when he had been so proud and so bright still. Joonmyun simply tells him it has been God’s plan. Jongin supposes he must be right.

Duties go on as usual. Jongin waits and dresses and polishes and serves from six till nine, still glowing with the renewed courage his black and white footman’s uniform gives him. On Friday mister Lee’s funeral is held. It’s an ordinary service at the church down at the local village, with prayers from the priest and flowers from the people. The king doesn’t attend. Jongin and the other male members of staff are too busy with preparation for the meal butler Lee has created especially for the Chinese prince visitor. At supper, Jongin tells Joonmyun he’d like to have gone. The other frowns at him, then tells him to pass the salt.

When he lies in bed at night, Jongin feels something akin to guilt in his chest when he images the church and its large and looming darkness almost completely empty, and he images the form of a woman in one of the front benches, bent over and crying, clutching her chest.

The pursuit for the King’s new valet is set out early: the evening the news of mister Lee’s death comes about. Joonmyun is amongst the list of contestants, as are Luhan and Zitao, who have served for the former king and prince himself and waited on more royal faces Jongin has ever seen in his life, and probably ever will. It’s why, Joonmyun tells him, he knows he doesn’t stand a chance. Jongin tells him that’s gibberish.

‘’Mister Lee adores your work,’’ he insists, ‘’your ethic is one of the finest he has ever come across. He would not have nominated you had he not had the utmost of faith in your abilities.’’

The smile Joonmyun shoots back at him is a thankful one, but a disbelieving nonetheless. In the end, Joonmyun and his disbelief turn out to have been right. The person chosen to be the king’s valet eight days later is not Joonmyun, nor is it Luhan or Zitao.

‘’I will not go as far as to question the king’s choice.’’ Mister Lee grumbles, standing at the head of the dinner table, the servants lined up in neat little rows with their hands behind their backs and their eyes on their plates. The grey-haired man scratches the back of his head, his thick eyebrows furrowing together as his gaze falls upon Jongin, eyes hard and heavy. By his side, Joonmyun is looking at him as well, eyes still round in shock from the announcement earlier, his plush mouth hanging open ever so slightly. The rest of the servants are watching him too, their judgement and surprise boring holes into his face. He wishes a hole would appear in the floor and swallow him up in order to hide from their stares. As it is, he keeps his back straight and his eyes trained at the wall opposite of him, pretending not to see the wrath that is there in Zitao’s unforgiving expression.

‘’But,’’ mister Lee continues, ‘’I must admit that I find myself… startled by his majesty’s decision. I myself was of the opinion that Kai’s skill, though vastly improved since his arrival, is still lacking, and his manner not up to par of that of a valet, certainly not the valet of a king. However – ‘’

Here, another piercing look is shot his way, before mister Lee’s gaze moves upward in order to address the entire staff, an important statement apparently coming up.

‘’The king’s decision is law. And as his butler I have nothing but ultimate trust in his majesty’s judgement. I shall follow his majesty and not question his sentence. I hope you all feel the same.’’ He warns.

Jongin sees Joonmyun flinch at the heavy-handedness of the statement. Mister Lee’s deep voice orders for them to start supper, and the entire table throws themselves at the food immediately, too much of their precious time already snooped away by mister Lee’s speech. Jongin can’t seem to catch Joonmyun’s eyes during dinner. When he finishes his duties that night, the other man is already asleep, the Bible still clutched in his hand.

*

Jongin was almost entirely sure he would suffocate walking up the stairs tonight, too wound up with his anxiety. He could already imagine it in his own mind: his tragic death causing the king to have to appoint yet another valet for himself. Yet here he is: in the king’s greenroom, slipping a velvet robe over the king’s ivory shoulders while he looks on in the mirror opposite as Jongin tries to will his shaking hands into rest. The fabric feels smooth beneath his hands, silky and expensive.

‘’Do you know why I hired you as my valet?’’ Comes the fair-faced boy’s sudden question. Jongin almost takes a step back in his surprise.

It’s the first thing the king has said all evening. He has accidentally addressed the other as ‘my lord’, has stepped on his robe and nearly dropped a tea cup, but there had come no comment on his inabilities. The constant lack of recognition to his presence has only fuelled Jongin’s uneasiness. Even now, his hand accidentally brushes the king’s robe as he steps away to refill the cup of tea by on his majesty’s bedside, a clumsy gesture mister Lee would have surely scolded him for.

‘’Mister Lee informed us you personally chose me for the position, sir.’’ Jongin answers, one hand behind his back as the hot liquid pours out of the