⁝ inn.

@❃ choi geon A light shiver runs down Eunhyuk's spine at the shift, light as it is, but he can feel the other's a little too easily with the thin fabric separating their skin. He frowns a little, lips almost pursing instead as he taps Geon's skin with the other end of his brush, in what seems to be a scolding manner. "Behave, hyungnim," he says, as if he himself isn't already aroused like his lover is. "We do not want to mess this up, do we?" he continues, swallowing quietly.

While he would want nothing more than to lay in bed with his lover all night, he is quite determined in finishing this little piece of art he's started painting over Geon's skin. This is the first time he's done this, after all, painting over someone else's skin as if he's leaving a mark of his on their body, albeit merely temporarily. But isn't it all the same? To leave such pretty shapes and colors upon someone else's skin, ultimately making them an artwork of their own right.

Perhaps that is why Eunhyuk wants to do this. Despite the many marks he's left on Geon's body as a result of their moments of passion, Eunhyuk still wants something that's... /his/, so to speak. Something that he creates with a sober mind, with intention to make Geon an art. An art that is meant for his eyes alone. (Though he supposes, a Geon littered with the marks of Eunhyuk's kisses and the drag of his nails down his skin is an art itself.)

"But do tell me when it gets a bit much. I can always pause for you," he says, and he smiles when he lifts his brush away from Geon's skin, finished with the linings of his drawing.

@❃ song jinye Early July, 1869

A ray of sunlight glistened against Bitna’s porcelain visage which caused her to turn away towards the direction where the light did not meet the shadows, in her lonely chambers. The morning dew of dawn was beckoning for the young maiden’s attention despite her reluctance.


Marchioness Oh took its calling as a sign for her to awake from her deep slumber as she slowly blinked a couple of times, where she laid in silence to fully get a grasp of her surroundings. Once Bitna’s vision began to clear she took that moment to also sit up into a sitting position and observed her familiar chambers once more in quietude. As her dark onyx’s traveled around the room they eventually caught the sight of a stack of papers sitting on top of a table that was only inches away from her.

Bitna was intrigued by the neat way the papers had been perfectly arranged and set out before her. It appeared as if someone had done it for a purpose, whatever it may be. With careful movements Lady Oh stood up from the comfort of her bed and stepped towards the small wooden furniture.

Atop, the first page of the stack stated, “February 9th, 1870, a message for you, Bitna”

Hesitant, Lady Oh furrowed her brows questionably as she slowly crept forward and gently caressed her slender fingers across the exquisite paper. The richness of such a thin piece of paper laid beneath Bitna’s fingertips and she knew well enough that it stood for the significance of her level of class.

Turning the page over slowly, well-written exquisite calligraphy presented itself before her dark orbs. Each of the pages were all dated by month and day, even a different name of someone she held dear were on every single one of them.

Bitna then turned back to the first page once more as she started to read it to herself.

‘Good Morning Dearest Bitna,

You must be wondering to yourself about the purpose of these papers and what they are for, but do not fret over it darling, for these will be your guide so that you do not forget who you are.

It is unfortunate that you cannot remember the simplest things about yourself. Truly, I wish this wasn’t the case. All you can rely on are these letters, but it is better than losing the most important memories about your loved ones and yourself. Do not feel alone, Bitna, for this illness will not be the end of you.

For starters, your name is Oh Bitna. You are the only daughter of both Duke Jiwoon and Duchess Seulyu. As the second born you have three brother’s whom you cherish deeply, your orabeoni is Oh Sejin and your two younger brother’s are Oh Jiyong and Oh Juwon.’

The further the Marchioness read on these entries only told her about who she is and about the important people in her life. Bitna was certain then that the one behind these letters was herself, she could not help but feel a hint of dejection beginning to form in the pit of her stomach.

‘Today you will be meeting with an old friend of yours. Her name is Song Jinye. Not only is she just your friend, she is also like a sister to you. Coming from a home where you are the only daughter, Jinye became your confidant in the earlier days where you seeked the comfort of sisterhood besides your brother’s.

Remember to embrace her warmly upon seeing her again, dearest Bitna. It has been a long time since you two had reunited with one another underneath the same sky, surely things may be awkward at first. You must have forgotten, but you were the one who pushed her away from the beginning, it was truly a difficult decision to swallow but you had your reason. She did not need to know about this estranged illness of yours, it would only drag her down if she were to know.

But, after receiving her gracious letter to see you again, how could you possibly refuse?

The place of meeting will be at the local inn. Be sure to dress your best dearest Bitna, for today will be a special day for you. I hope you can reconcile with Jinye in the best way possible, for this friendship is far too precious for you not to keep.

Good luck Bitna,
No matter what happens, you are still an amazing person despite all of your odds.’

After finishing the last page of the entries Bitna then carefully rearranged the stack back into the organization it was before when she first spotted them. Now filled with the recollection of her past and who she was, Marchioness Oh was now ready to proceed with her life once more as she did the day before and the day before that.

By the time noon had bestowed upon Hanseong, Bitna had already arrived at the expected meeting place early on. Dressed in her signature color from head to toe in the pastel lilac color she adored so much, Lady Oh had even made sure to adorn herself with the luxury of her emerald jade bracelet passed down to her from her mother. If Bitna was going to need all the luck in the universe to reunite with her dearest friend, what better luck could she hope for other than her mother’s?

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@❁ bae eunhyuk Geon tried to keep his breathing slow and even. The ticklish feeling made him twitchy, but he felt like if his breathing picked up or if he squirmed it would ruin the lines Eunhyuk was currently painting across his skin. The guard closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on anything besides Eunhyuk, but that was an impossible task. He could feel the younger male /everywhere/. Where his thighs pressed to Geon's, he could feel warmth and weight. The younger's scent, delicate and laced with oil and turpentine, invaded his senses. Geon's eyes fluttered back open, and he found himself--for the millionth time, probably--studying Eunhyuk's delicate features.

Geon shifted his hips just a touch, his length still hard and pressing against the artist. But Geon no longer apologized for the way his body reacted to Eunhyuk. His soul ached for the younger constantly. The times they were apart felt long and strenuous, and he counted heartbeats until he could see his pretty artist again. "It tickles," he admitted, "but I find, as with most things in life, if I force myself to withstand the feeling long enough, I eventually become numb to it."

Would his love for Eunhyuk ever grow numb? He doubted it. Geon found himself doubting things he knew often because of the younger. He never thought he would love anyone romantically, let alone a man. But here he was, his attraction obvious in his pants and in his eyes.

@✾ sun qingcang "I won't leave until I understand why you're so determined to marry me." It was a rare moment of defiance for the typically obedient assassin as she dared to question her superior's sudden interest in marrying her. He had always been a figure of mystery to her, never someone she imagined would seek to wed a mere pawn like herself. Perhaps it was another one of his cruel games, but Weishan would sooner meet her end than become the bride of such a man.

Weishan swiftly unsheathed her dagger, holding it against her own throat with a slight, calculated pressure on her delicate skin.

"And what if I were to end my life right here, right now?" Her words hung in the tense air, a daring challenge to Sun Qingcang's penchant for twisted games. She was prepared to push the limits, to see just how far a man like him would go. Deep down, she acknowledged the perilous gamble—aware that he could extinguish her life as effortlessly as she dangled it before him.

“I know you are not a man of your word. I’m aware of the many promises that you have broken all throughout the years. How am I so sure that this freedom you speak of that you are granting to me is the kind of freedom that I sought?” A dangerous game, fitting of a dangerous man like himself.

“If you wish to torture me for the remainder of my life then just end my existence right here, right now.” Her cold steely gaze met his.

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@❃ choi geon "And that is not my fault, is it?" Eunhyuk says with a light chuckle. "It has always been a part of your nature. You have always been a ." There is a playful accusatory tone in his voice, almost singsong-y in the way he speaks. He does love it, however, knowing how he's changed Geon's life. There is pride that accompanies that feeling, the thought of being the only man to have ever affected the older man this way. It makes him feel... beautiful, in a way, as though Geon's touches are more than enough to make him feel as such, which is quite a strange feeling to have as a man, isn't it?

But no matter. He enjoys it. And he loves that Geon makes him feel like it.

The are quite messy, almost like a sketch despite the method being anything but. He's still outlining the shapes of the flowers across Geon's skin, his brush running over Geon's scars lightly. He fills the skin on Geon's left with slightly messy lines, comfortable in its mild chaos. It isn't colored yet, no, but the flowers requested are showing easily, although a little abstract in their form. "Does it tickle? Feels uncomfortable?" he mutters quietly, his hand pausing as he lifts his gaze up to meet Geon's, a faint smile on his lips. "I can stop every now and then, you know, if you're feeling uncomfortable staying still."

@❁ bae eunhyuk "Me, a ?" Geon frowned playfully. "I was a before I met you. If anything, you are the one that has brought out such nature from me." But it was true. Geon didn't know what person he became when he was with Eunhyuk. Geon was not a prude, but was never open about or uality. He was the oldest of his siblings, and with that he carried the responsibility of taking care of his family. His parents were still there, of course, but he felt like he needed to play a much more active role in their lives. But with Eunhyuk, he could let out the parts of himself that he had kept pent up. He wasn't even entirely sure he liked men until he met the artist. It stirred his hidden desires and more carnal needs--he couldn't help it.

The elder cocked his head, studying Eunhyuk but remaining quiet as he listened. Art, something Geon would never understand. He understood pride, duty, honor, violence...but when he gazed upon his lover and felt that coil of heat wrapping around his heart, he thought maybe he was beginning to understand art, too. Art was the expression of all those feelings. Not the scene they captured, but the feelings the artist had as they gazed at the landscape.

Geon glanced down as the brush met his skin, stiffening. If art was the heart of the creator...what would he see when Eunhyuk finished? Would it be beautiful? Smooth lines, graceful dips? Or would it convey some of the passion they shared, with uneven and bold lines? The word "love" felt sticky in his chest, something he dared not speak aloud. Did Eunhyuk feel the same way? Geon doubted the younger would ever voice it if he did, but perhaps his art would give him away.

Geon watched the brush with renewed interest, thumb rubbing circles over Eunhyuk's clothed thigh.

@❃ choi geon Eunhyuk leans in easily, meeting Geon's lips halfway. There is a smile on his lips as their lips meet, and he rolls his eyes playfully. "Have you always been this much of a , hyungnim?" he says with a soft sigh. Memories of their moments of passion, however, do come in waves, and with them comes a familiar sort of warmth that he's only really felt with Geon. He does try to push the feeling away, determined to at least do something he has always wanted to. "Perhaps you should put in more effort of making me ask nicely then."

This isn't the first time he's hoped to paint over Geon's skin, but when Geon undresses... well, it often ends up in something else, and while Eunhyuk isn't complaining (why would he? Geon embraces him so, /so/ well), he is a man on a mission. At least for tonight.

"It is, that is true, but flowers are a personal favorite. They are much... more beautiful up close. Fleeting, yes, in their bloom season, but the sight is worth waiting for, isn't it?" Is he making sense? He doesn't know, is no longer focusing on his words as he starts pouring a little bit of paint on his palette. "It is why I like painting them, I suppose, to immortalize their beauty in a way." He dips the tip of his brush onto the paint, and lifts his hand to Geon's chest. Slowly, he starts outlining, hand steady. "Try your best not to move too much—or, if you absolutely have to, tell me before you move, alright?"

@❁ bae eunhyuk Geon smiled softly, fingertips trailing down across Eunhyuk's jaw, slipping back along his neck to cup the back of his head, wishing he could fully sink his finger's into the younger male's hair. Maybe pull him in close so he could bite Eunhyuk's pretty lips, turn them red and swollen. He supposed that would have to wait. There would be time later. "I could have libraries full of you and it would still never be enough, Eunhyuk-ah," Geon said quietly, leaning in to press his lips gently but firmly to his lover's. "But the sound of your voice asking me for things nicely is one of my favorites. I would need an entire separate archive for that alone."

Geon sat back just a touch, resting his upper body on one arm while the other remained loosely wrapped around Eunhyuk's slim waist. He his lips, doing his best to resist the urge to drag back the younger male's clothes. His own were off, so it only felt fair. But he held his tongue. Perhaps there would be time for that later. Geon knew his feeling of having all the time in the world with Eunhyuk was wildly incorrect, but time slowed down with the artist. Eventually the two of them would have to return to their lives and responsibilities, but until they came to that bridge, Geon would deny its existence.

Glancing down at the pallet, he let out a soft hum. "Flowers are part of landscapes, no? One drop in the larger pot?" He sighed. "You would think I would have a deeper understanding of art from my family, but it evades me." He slipped his hand down to lightly caress Eunhyuk's thigh through his clothes, pausing. "I am ticklish."

@❃ choi geon The words elicited a scoff out of the younger man, but color had painted over the tips of his ears, over the skin of his cheeks. "As if you do not already have enough of that in your... mental records," he uttered, memories of nights spent together flooding his mind in quick, brief waves, enough to darken the rosy hues of his cheeks. He cleared his throat quietly. "You do a rather good job at making me... say please," he continued with a playful roll of his eyes, before he finally reached out for his bag of paint by his side. "I ought to have my revenge for that one of these days."

This would be rather messy, he thought, as he did not even prepare his materials properly after the idea had come to mind so suddenly. But Geon's lap had been too enticing of a seat, and the sudden surge of energy Eunhyuk had gotten from the idea of painting on Geon's skin was more than enough for him to rid his mind of any logical thoughts. And so, here he was, thinking of a way to make this work without him having to leave his comfortable seat to mix colors more effectively. He felt far too comfortable where he sat, though the older man's obvious arousal had sent a subtle, coy simper to his lips.

Perhaps a single color would do. He did not plan to use a lot of paints, after all, as he still had his client waiting for him, though with the other's reaction to Eunhyuk sitting on his lap... well, he might not need that many paints in the first place.

"Landscapes are too common," Eunhyuk said, taking out his palette and picking one of his paints. "Flowers, on the other hand, are beautiful. Easier to paint as well, and easier to decorate your skin with," he continued, and he pulled out both red and white. He turned to his lover with a smile, placing his palette by Geon's stomach, balanced by Eunhyuk's thighs. He poured a little bit of paint onto the palette. "How confident are you that you can sit still while I paint, hyungnim?"

@❁ bae eunhyuk Geon chuckled quietly, feeling like if he spoke too loud he'd somehow shatter this moment, this night, of absolute perfection. The guard often still felt like he was dreaming. How could he possibly have such a wonderful love? When he had made his move on Eunhyuk he'd been almost entirely certain the younger would push him into the ocean and never speak to him. But his feelings were returned. What had he done in a past life to earn Eunhyuk? Surely he saved the country or some other great feat. Maybe he should visit a shaman.

Geon hummed, lifting his torso so his robes would slip off easier. "I think I would like to see you beg very much." His grin grew. "I could add the sound to my mental records and pull it out on rainy days."

The guard's skin raised with gooseflesh as it was exposed to the air. How many times had Eunhyuk seen him now? Enough that Geon should no longer feel shy, yet he did. Each time he exposed himself tot he artist, he felt incredibly vulnerable and alive. As if he had not existed until the other's pretty eyes took him in for the first time. Geon's eyes fluttered as he felt Eunhyuk's hands graze his skin, his body wishing to arch to be closer to the other, though he resisted.

His eyes opened fully at the question, one of Geon's brows quirking. "Flowers? Here I was thinking mountains, trees, perhaps birds." He kept his weight propped up on one arm, the other reaching to lightly loop around the artist's waist. "I like cherry blossoms." Cherry blossoms, his life model. To be beautiful, to be cherished, but to fade away in a lovely cascade, forgotten for another year.

@❃ choi geon Geon's palm against Eunhyuk's cheek was warm, and Eunhyuk could not help the way he instinctively leaned against it, almost nuzzling into it. Had his name sounded so sweet before on someone else's tongue? Eunhyuk had had lovers before that whispered his name so sweetly, so shyly, but none of them could compare the way Geon would say his name with pure, utter adoration. (What was this feeling that he reveled in, he wondered. He could not quite place a name on it yet.)

Eunhyuk could not help the soft scoff he made at the other's words. "Are you saying you'd like to see me beg?" he asked with an eyebrow raised, knowing full well what the implications of his words could be. A jest, a tease—something that Geon would be too used to by now. But the look of surprise that came to his visage next was genuine, but his smile grew all too easily, letting his bag of paint rest by their sides as he reached for the man's robes.

"Oh, you know me so well, hyungnim," he said rather cheerily, as though he was not about to undress the other. "You know I would do so gladly."

And he did so with glee, carefully sliding Geon's robes down—not enough to fully undress the lad, but enough for Eunhyuk to have easier access to the older man's chest. Scars had littered Geon's skin, this was no longer a surprise, having seen this already. His fingers trailed along their shape, touch as light as a feather, lips parting slightly as though in awe. "I think you would look good with flowers," he said, eyes moving to meet Geon's. "Do you happen to have a favorite?"

@❁ bae eunhyuk Geon's lashes fluttered as he followed Eunhyuk's movements. The book was plucked from his hands, but that was alright--not like Geon was able to concentrate on it, anyway. Silly of him, to think he could concentrate on anything if Eunhyuk was in the room. Eunhyuk was a presence that always demanded his full attention, even when he wasn't doing it as obviously as he was now, climbing into his lap and oh gods, Geon felt himself harden immediately. How embarrassing. How vulnerable. How lovely a thing, to have his body sing and resign itself so completely to another. How romantic, to be alone in a room where his lover his asking to explore his skin in an even more intimate way. Who was he to deny the beauty before him?

Geon smiled at Eunhyuk, the peck only widening the grin. "Eunhyuk-ah," he said softly, reaching up a hand to cup the younger's face. The artist was a steady, comforting weight in his lap. Not heavy--though he could get a tad bony, depending on their position. But even the pain from his lover's bones was divine, pressing into his skin in a constant thrum of /there-ness/. He was /there/, he was real, and he was Geon's.

Geon pressed a soft kiss to the male's lips in response, brushing away errant strands of hair. "I could never deny you anything, you know that. Though hearing you say please is quite refreshing." Another soft smile, one the guard reserved only for his artist, and Geon was reaching for his robes before pausing, glancing at Eunhyuk through his lashes. "Unless...you would rather undress me?"

@❃ choi geon The nervousness that seemed to have washed over Geon did not go unnoticed. Eunhyuk's eyes merely glinted with mischief, and he reached out with his free hand to take the book out of Geon's hold. None of that distraction, he thought to himself. There was a selfish streak flaring in the back of his mind, as the desire to hold Geon's full attention hit him rather strongly. Eunhyuk placed the book beside them, and with that same hand he used to take away his current rival for Geon's attention, he reached out to hold onto Geon's robes, his head tilting to one side as he raised an eyebrow.

"Mm." A soft hum as confirmation. He slid Geon's robe a little to the side, to reveal more of the older man's skin by his shoulder. "Over your skin, yes. If I recall correctly, you did mention before that you wanted me to paint on you," he said, and it was not a question.

He shifted lightly in his place where he sat on Geon's lap, if only to get into a more comfortable position. Sometimes, Eunhyuk wished he had been a little smaller, then his legs by his side would not be taking so much space, nor would his weight be heavy. But Eunhyuk would quickly remember that Geon was a soldier—of course, Geon could handle Eunhyuk, as tall as he was (as lanky as he was, too, though that was of little importance). "Would you let me paint on your skin?" he asked, leaning in to give the older man a light peck on the lips. "Please?"

@❁ bae eunhyuk A bodyguard. Travel companion. That was the excuse Geon wound with Eunhyuk as to why he would accompany the younger on his visit for work. While it was true he was partially worried for the younger--a lone traveler in fine clothing could be the target of bandits--Geon mostly just wanted to spend more time with him, especially if they could be alone together.

The journey had been uneventful, free of bandits, though Geon kept his sword sheathed at his waist the entire time. This would be their first time staying like this together--in the same room. There were two beds, and they were both men, so it didn't look suspicious or strange. It was quite normal. But to Geon, it felt anything but. He was nervous, though he wasn't sure why. Bae Eunhyuk just did that to him.

Geon lounged on one of the beds while Eunhyuk drew. Occasionally he would glance over, unable to stop himself from admiring the slope of his nose, or the hollow of his throat. Geon got lost in thought that way easily, often having to shake his head to snap himself out of it and re-focus on the book in his hands centering around law and how the country was governed. Geon still had dreams of restoring his family's glory, and these days those dreams centered around him passing the exams to enter the palace as a scholar. But Geon always preferred fighting to studying, and was beginning to wonder if the military would be the better option.

He frowned at a passage, having read it three times without understanding a word, heart skipping a beat as he heard his lover's voice call for him. He immediately turned his head, blinking. "A silly idea?" he echoed, eyes widening as he received clarification. The elder felt his neck and ears prick with heat. He pressed his full lips together, chewing on the lower one. "On...me? You mean..." He swallowed. "You mean over my skin?"

@❃ choi geon [ —— dated 1863 —— ]

The room at the inn was quite bigger than the usual ones Eunhyuk would get for a night. But then he supposed that the few times he had gotten a need to stay at an inn, he did not have companions. It was not uncommon for him to travel from the Bae estate in order to paint his clients at their personal residences. And while most of them remained within Hanseong, there were still a few occasions where he would have to travel, one of the very few reasons that he would willingly be out and about in the city, when Eunhyuk would normally want to simply exist at home, within the four walls of his bedroom.

But tonight, it was different. Tonight, he had company—an unexpected company, but company nonetheless. A welcomed one as well, as he looked at his lover, a paper that was already beginning to be filled with light, messy that were meant to resemble his companion's visage. But no matter how many times he had sketched his lover's figure, while his hands were well familiar with the shape and heat of Geon's body, Eunhyuk could not quite get Geon's features the way he wanted.

A hum broke the silence that had fallen upon them in Eunhyuk's attempt to perfect his partner's face upon paper. An idea came up to mind, and his hand stopped in his scribbling. A playful simper painted itself on his llips, and he dropped his pencil on his thighs, where his papers laid messily.

"Hyungnim," he called the man on the other bed. (If they had their way, this would've been a single bed, but alas.) "Would you entertain a silly idea of mine?"

He pushed his current materials to his side, grabbing his bag that contained his paint and brushes. And then he was moving to where Geon was seated, sitting on the older lad's lap. "I'd like to paint on you."

@✾ feng weishan Qingcang regarded Weishan's reaction with a mixture of frustration and understanding, her words cutting through the tension like a knife. He had expected resistance, perhaps even anger, but the bitterness in her voice struck a chord within him. He had known that his proposal would not be met with enthusiasm, but he had hoped that she would see the opportunity it presented, rather than focusing solely on the perceived cruelty of his offer.

"Are you serious..."Qingcang nodded, his expression unreadable.

Despite the bitterness in her tone, Qingcang detected a hint of resignation, a willingness to accept her fate even as she grappled with the implications of their arrangement. When she finally spoke, her words carried a sense of finality, a decision made in the face of uncertainty and desperation.

"I will ensure that you have the freedom you seek," Qingcang continued, his tone firm. "And that you are treated with the respect and dignity you deserve as my bride."

In Qingcang's eyes, matrimony was nothing more than a contractual agreement between a man and his woman. It was a transaction, a formal arrangement that served to solidify alliances, and secure power. Love, affection, and mutual respect were mere luxuries, secondary to the practical considerations that governed such unions.

As he stood before Weishan, his gaze betrayed no hint of sentimentality or romanticism. To him, their impending marriage was simply a means to an end, a way to secure her loyalty and obedience while fulfilling his own desires. He viewed her not as a beloved partner, but as a valuable asset to be acquired.

For Qingcang, the concept of love was a foreign one, an elusive fantasy that held no place in his pragmatic worldview. He had long ago learned to suppress any romantic inclinations, focusing instead on his ambitions and the pursuit of power.

"We will attend to these matters once we return to Qing," Qingcang stated with finality, his tone brooking no argument. "You may leave now," Qingcang commanded tersely, his voice cutting through the air like a sharp blade. He gestured towards the door with an imperious flick of his hand, as he sat back down and took another sip from his porcelain cup.

@✾ sun qingcang What caught Weishan off guard was Qingcang's gentle gesture as he reached out to delicately brush a lock of her hair. The unexpected action threatened to crack her flawless facade. Yet, she composed herself, meeting his gaze with a mask of neutrality. In that moment, it seemed as though there existed a depth beyond mere physical desires, a complexity between them that transcended the ordinary. Despite having served under him for what felt like an eternity, their interactions had always been strictly business. As far back as she could recall, Weishan had never allowed herself to reveal anything in Qingcang's presence.

Could it be? Absorbed in the relentless pursuit of survival, Weishan had overlooked the subtle shifts in Qingcang's gaze, the tenderness that softened it, much like now. It was only when he reached for her robe, gently retracting it, that she truly saw him, unclouded by her usual biases. For the first time, she regarded him without the weight of preconceptions, though resisting the urge to simply see him as a man proved challenging.

"I meant it as be my bride.”

“Your bride?” Weishan had long since given up on the notion of getting married despite longing for freedom for as she is, she knew that finding love was nearly impossible.

It had seemed nearly impossible until she reached Hanseong and encountered a particular Lord. Yet, now it appeared that the Lord who occupied her thoughts was more distant than ever. Resigned to her current circumstances with the man before her, a tangible sorrow throbbed in her chest, shattering the meticulously crafted mask she wore when she averted her gaze from Qingcang.

“I still do not understand, My lord. You can wed any woman. I am aware that you can take multiple wives. What do you gain by having me as one of them? Is this one of your cruel games..”

Her voice trembled, betraying the depth of her mortification. It was clear how profoundly shaken she was by the realization that the man standing before her wielded such immense power over her life, casually bartering her freedom in exchange for her hand in marriage.

“Someone once told me that matrimony is a sacred thing, yet you would take in someone as filthy as I am to wed.” There was bitterness in her words as she uttered them.

“Perhaps we should have drunk liquor. It would have made this news easier to digest.” She smiles bitterly, still unsure of the emotions that swirled in her chest.

Weishan shifted in her seat, making no move to restrain her loose hair, the hairpin forgotten on the table. With both arms resting on the surface, she leaned in, her gaze fixed intently on Qingcang's expressions once more. Not known for verbosity, the female's silence belied the complexity of her thoughts, stirred by Qingcang's proposition, prompting her to scrutinize the male's true intentions.

“Are you serious…” She still searched his face for indications that he was jesting but it seemed like he was intent on his proposition.

It was her freedom at stake. Who was she to refuse? If accepting meant securing the genuine antidote that could free her from the fortnightly doses she relied on, then yes, she would acquiesce. Even if it entailed entering a loveless union with a man whose motives remained shrouded in ambiguity.

“If you are. Then I shall wed you in exchange of the cure and my freedom to do what I wish despite being bound to you eternally.”

Her words carried a sense of irrevocability, a bitter pill to swallow. Despite the anguish it caused her, she knew she must tend to the part of her heart that mourned for whatever feelings it held for a certain Lord.

@✾ feng weishan As Weishan's words hung in the air, Qingcang couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration at her blunt honesty. He had hoped that his cryptic invitation would pique her curiosity, not elicit such a direct response. But he supposed he shouldn't be surprised; Weishan had always been one to cut through the pretense and speak her mind.

He watched silently as she began to remove the layers of her hanfu, a silent acknowledgment of her willingness to entertain his proposition. But as she met his gaze with a steely resolve, Qingcang felt a surge of admiration for her unwavering strength. She was a woman of many talents, he thought to himself, but it was her fierce determination that truly set her apart.

Before she could fully disrobe, Qingcang stepped forward, his movements deliberate as he reached out to touch the tip of her hair. His fingers lingered for a moment, tracing the delicate strands with a gentle reverence. He tugged the loose strains of hair behind her ear before moving closer and said in a low whisper, "Sorry to disappoint," he reached for the edges of her robes and pulled them back up.

"I meant it as be my bride," his voice carrying a weight of possession that belied his usual enigmatic demeanor. In that moment, he was unguarded, his gaze meeting hers with a raw intensity that laid bare his true intentions.

Qingcang knew that his proposition was bold, even audacious, but he couldn't suppress the primal desire that surged within him whenever he was near Weishan. She possessed a magnetism that drew him in, like a moth to a flame, igniting a hunger within him that he couldn't ignore.

She was unlike anyone he had ever encountered, a tempest of strength and defiance wrapped in delicate guise. With each passing moment, Qingcang felt himself consumed by the need to claim her, to make her his and his alone. The thought of anyone else laying claim to her sent a surge of possessiveness coursing through him, stoking the flames of jealousy that burned within his chest.

Their relationship had always been shrouded in secrecy, a clandestine dance of power and control. But beneath the surface, a fierce passion smoldered, threatening to consume them both. Qingcang couldn't deny the intoxicating allure of possessing her completely, of bending her to his will and making her surrender to him in every way imaginable.

As he gazed into her eyes, a predatory glint flickered in his own, betraying the depths of his desire. In that moment, Qingcang knew that he would stop at nothing to make her his, to dominate her in every sense of the word. For she was his greatest obsession, and he would do whatever it took to make her his own.

@✾ sun qingcang To be his? What did Sun Qingcang mean by that? It was an ambiguous statement and even his statements before were even more confusing. Weishan disliked it when the people around her spoke cryptically. Surely the male knew that Wufeng did not train her to read minds. But judging from the location in which her superior asked her to meet, the female had already assumed as much.

Was he truly that shallow? Weishan contemplated, a hint of incredulity tainting her thoughts. The notion that Qingcang's desires might be reduced to mere physical attraction seemed almost dismissive of the complexities of their relationship. If it was her body alone that captured his interest, surely it couldn't outweigh the freedom she so fiercely coveted. “I wish you weren’t so cryptic with your words, My Lord.”

“Be yours? What ever do you mean by that? Wufeng already owns me. Body and soul.”

She responds almost automatically. She was not innocent; the organization having taught her everything from combat to the art of seduction. Weishan understood that sometimes men’s weaknesses lie in their carnal desires but what she did not expect was that her superior would be just like them.

“You should know by now how desperate I am to obtain freedom. I do not wish to work for Wufeng anymore. I do not wish to kill..spy..or ruin any more lives.”

It was the first ounce of honesty that Weishan allowed herself to relinquish to her superior. Knowing he might not care for her reasons. But the female assassin wanted him to know how far she was willing to go if it meant for her to be finally free.

Weishan sighs, this would not be her first time. Nor her last so she might as well go through with it. She starts to slowly take the top robe of her Hanfu. Thankfully the clothing had many layers. She would test the waters if Qingcang truly wanted her like he said. As she met Qingcang's mercurial gaze, she refused to waver, her eyes locked with his in a silent challenge. There would be no room for weakness or uncertainty in this moment. Not daring to show any weakness or nervousness as she removes the hairpin that bound her hair, her raven black tresses fall, framing her face and her now bare shoulders.

@✾ feng weishan Qingcang regarded Weishan with a calculating gaze, his mind working through the intricacies of the proposition he was about to offer. He could sense her apprehension, the underlying tension that pulsed beneath the surface of her composed facade. Yet, despite her reservations, he knew that she was intrigued by the prospect of what he had to offer.

Qingcang allowed himself a small smirk at her question, his gaze unwavering as he met her eyes. "Perhaps you underestimate your worth, Weishan," he replied cryptically, his voice tinged with amusement. He could see the gears turning in her mind, the wheels of her intellect spinning as she searched for a way out of their precarious situation.

"Freedom is a relative concept, Weishan," Qingcang replied, his voice soft but tinged with a hint of menace. He watched as her expression flickered, her eyes betraying a mixture of uncertainty and curiosity. He knew that her freedom was a precious commodity, one that he held in the palm of his hand. And now, it was time to leverage that power to his advantage.

"But rest assured, what I offer you is far more valuable than mere liberty," Qingcang continued, his tone dripping with implication. He could see the wheels turning in Weishan's mind, the silent calculations as she weighed the cost of his proposition. And as he watched her carefully, Qingcang knew that the moment of truth had arrived.

"For you to be mine," he said finally, his words hanging in the air like a heavy shroud. He watched as realization dawned in Weishan's eyes, the gravity of his offer sinking in with each passing moment. And in that fleeting instant, Qingcang knew that he had her.

@✾ sun qingcang If there was someone who intimidated someone as stoic as Weishan, it would be Qingcang. It was hard for her to read him. Hard for her to understand his motives. He had always presented himself in a way that made her wonder what kinds of thoughts he harbored in his mind. In a way they were alike. Both hiding beneath false pretenses and ornately decorated lies.

When he smiles at her, she feels a shiver run down her spine. Weishan would much rather face his stoic demeanor and the ever-familiar look of disappointment in his otherwise handsome features than be the object of his smiles. Qingcang’s redeeming qualities stopped at his visage for he was as beautiful as he was cruel. He was an angel of death, and Weishan almost feared for the women who fell for him. If only they knew of his true colors.

A heavy silence descends upon them, uncomfortable under the weight of the oppressive stillness, she finds herself peering into Qingcang's eyes. Weishan is met with the unwavering intensity of his raven orbs, dark and inscrutable as they bore into her with an unsettling intensity. There is a flicker of amusement in his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of her sudden display of defiance.

In that moment, Weishan realizes the extent of Qingcang's power and control over her, a realization that sends a shiver down her spine. As an assassin, she is accustomed to following orders without question, yielding to the authority of her superiors without hesitation.

"There is always something else, Weishan," he replied cryptically, his voice low and measured. "And in this case, it concerns our return to Qing."

Return to Qing.

Weishan did not fail to remember that should she fail her mission; she would have to go back to Wufeng. Though this new proposition sparked curiosity, especially with the latter’s mention of their exchanges for the antidotes she required to stay alive. Was Qingcang truly bargaining with her life right now? The female tried showing no signs of surprise or apprehension but there was a raging war in her mind as she carefully chose her next words.

“What could I possibly offer that you do not currently posses my lord?”

She inquires, eyes focused on him as she poured another cup of tea for the both of them. Perhaps liquor was better for such a circumstance. Her mind danced with a myriad of possibilities and knowing her superior no deal of his would be worth her freedom unless she gave him everything she had. Though even then, it probably would still not be enough.

“Could I dare to even imagine that you are bartering for my freedom?”

Even if she wanted to hope, she knew that at his hands, only a worse fate awaited. Still, she would hear him out.

@✾ feng weishan Qingcang observed Weishan's entrance with a calculated gaze, his expression betraying little of the satisfaction he felt at her compliance. He had grown accustomed to her reluctance, her defiance a familiar undercurrent in their interactions. Yet, beneath her façade of indifference, he sensed a simmering tension, a quiet rebellion that threatened to boil over at any moment.

As she settled into the chair opposite him, her movements tinged with a palpable sense of reluctance, Qingcang's gaze lingered on her form, taking in the subtle shift in her demeanor. She wore a black and red Hanfu, a stark departure from her usual attire, and he couldn't help but feel a flicker of amusement at her attempt to assert her independence.

"I did. They were beautiful. Thank you, my lord." Weishan's words were laced with a thinly veiled disdain, her tone a careful balance of deference and defiance. Qingcang arched an eyebrow in response, his lips curling into a sardonic smile as he took note of her calculated reply.

With a sense of resignation, Weishan reached for the teacup placed before her, her fingers wrapping around the delicate porcelain with a determined grip. Qingcang watched her closely, his gaze probing for any sign of weakness as she brought the cup to her lips, the warmth of the liquid offering a fleeting respite from the oppressive atmosphere of the room.

Qingcang nodded in acknowledgment, his expression unreadable as he considered her report. As she sipped her tea once more, Qingcang's gaze narrowed slightly, a hint of curiosity flickering in his eyes. She had grown bolder, her defiance a stark reminder of her determination to assert her independence. He admired her tenacity, even as it tested the limits of his patience.

"There is always something else, Weishan," he replied cryptically, his voice low and measured. "And in this case, it concerns our return to Qing."

Pausing for a moment, Qingcang leaned forward, his gaze intense as he locked eyes with Weishan. "I have a proposition for you," he continued, his tone taking on a serious edge. "One that could potentially end our arrangement for the exchange of antidote."

His words hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications. Qingcang had already spoken to Wufeng, and they had agreed on his proposal.

@✾ sun qingcang A sudden summons from her superior on an afternoon where she was supposed to be free ruffled Weishan's feathers. However, despite her frustrations, she knew better than to defy his authority.

Resigned to her fate, Weishan begrudgingly made her way to the designated location, her steps heavy with reluctance. Though the location seemed sketchy and the circumstances dubious, she had little choice but to heed Wufeng's summons.

She was careful not to be late, to not suffer the consequences. Weishan decided to forgo the usual light hues that she wore and donned a black and red Hanfu. Much like what she wore when she entered Wufeng’s establishment back in Qing. Here, Qingcang represented the organization as her superior. The female was not quite sure how many lower ranking spies he held under his control but to her knowledge Weishan was the only elite ranked spy in Hanseong, only second to the man who now sat in front of her.

“I did. They were beautiful. Thank you, my lord.” It was a calculated reply. She cannot admit that she loathed them. Loathed the way Sun Qingcang used her real name to address her. Hated the threat that came with is as if she did not know how important the mission was.

With a sense of resignation, Weishan reaches for the teacup placed in front of her, her fingers wrapping around the delicate porcelain with a determined grip. Though a flicker of apprehension tugs at the corners of her mind, she knows that she has already resigned herself to whatever fate may await her.

Bringing the teacup to her lips, she takes a sip, the warmth of the liquid offering a fleeting respite from the oppressive atmosphere of the room. At this point, a distraction from her superior's domineering aura is a welcome reprieve.

“It is going well. I have collected enough names and have compiled a list for you to take on the next fortnight in exchange of the antidote.” She replies, meeting his gaze. She hated feeling small and held her ground even when it meant insubordination.

It was uncharacteristic of Qingcang to summon her randomly, but it was not unheard of. He had called for her one time back in Qing. Weishan was curious as to what his reasons were this time. Did he quickly tire of the women of Joseon that he now sought her company?

“My lord did you summon me here merely to inquire about the flower you had graciously sent me or is there something else.” She asks, curiosity getting the best of her as she sipped on her tea once more. Wufeng taught her to not show weakness and she matched him. Two can play this game.

@✾ feng weishan The wooden floorboards creaked ominously under Qingcang's weight as he reclined in the dimly lit inn, his eyes fixed on the door with a predatory glint. The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows across the room, adding to the ominous atmosphere that surrounded him. He had summoned Weishan to his quarters in the inn, her fate hanging in the balance as he awaited her arrival.

When Weishan entered, her demeanor cautious and apprehensive, Qingcang's gaze bore into her with an intensity that made her squirm. He could sense her fear, her unease palpable in the air as she struggled to meet his gaze. She stood before him like a trapped animal, her every movement betraying her inner turmoil.

"Have you received my flowers, Weishan?" Qingcang's voice dripped with sarcasm as he spoke, the words slicing through the silence like a blade. He watched her closely, his expression unreadable as he awaited her response. A faint smirk played at the corners of his lips, betraying the cold amusement he took in her discomfort.

"And what of your mission, Weishan? Have you made any progress since the last time we met?" Qingcang's voice was laced with malice as he probed for answers, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. He leaned forward in his chair, his posture exuding authority as he awaited her reply.

Picking up the ceramic teacup beside him, Qingcang took a sip of the bitter brew, relishing the taste as he studied Weishan's reaction. The delicate porcelain felt cool against his fingertips, a stark contrast to the tension that hung in the air. He knew that every word, every gesture would be scrutinized, and he relished the power he held over her.

As the silence stretched between them, Qingcang's smirk widened ever so slightly, a silent reminder of the control he wielded. He was a master of manipulation, and in this moment, Weishan was merely a pawn in his game. And as he awaited her response, he knew that whatever fate awaited her, it was of his choosing.

@✿ ahn gaeun “right.”

the look of amusement lingered upon his visage, albeit softer as time seemingly transcended forward slowly. it’s almost as if it were asking permission to pass, and that permission was declined by the duke and the lady. in this period of time and a sudden moment of newfound love, where it’s beginning to build a foundation, time moves so slowly. yejoon is grateful for it though because as her body leans forward to remove her shoes, it’s as if it’s all in slow motion. and, as her feet pad upon the hardwood floor to conquer the short journey to his figure, he’s completely mesmerized.

to be honest, yejoon never thought that he would be getting in bed with someone that he had a close relationship with, unless it was the woman he’d grown up loving. there had been many nights spent with ladies of whom he couldn’t even remember their names, and yet always fantasized were another woman. it was a tale as old as time and a fantasy that had even haunted him in the early hours of the evening when he first kissed her. never in his wildest dreams would he ever have imagined gaeun accompanying him in this room, or even laying with him. and, never in his wildest dreams, would he have imagined him enjoying her presence and touch so much. how could he have missed what was right in front of him all along?

although yejoon had given her plenty of outs and certainly many chances to change her mind, he remained surprised at the fact that she remained before him with dainty fingers working on the removal of his own clothes. the warmth of his skin welcomed the cool air with a layer of goosebumps covering his skin as his baeja was untied, and the eyes that were previously overlooking her own with a newfound fondness shift downward to peak at her hands. the dim light allowed for him to notice how they were shaking, so he raises his own to gently caress her thin wrists. he smiles softly, running the pad of his thumbs over the back of her hands with a gentle nod of his head. “yes, if you wish to. or, i could take it off if you don’t want to. or i could .. leave it on?”

the suggestion was playful at heart, but his words carry the weight of sincerity. if she wanted him to keep his clothes on, he certainly wouldn’t mind. whatever she wanted in this moment, or really past this moment, yejoon would be happy and excited to provide. “gaeun,” he released her left wrist to extend his palm, the tips of his fingers caressing her cheek and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as his brows knit together. “there’s no rush, you can take all of the time that you need. all of this time is ours.”

@✿ ahn gaeun observing gaeun's vulnerability despite her poised appearance, yejoon couldn't help but empathize with her emotions. he recognized the intricate layers of fear, uncertainty, and hope interwoven within her as they faced each other.

cloaked in darkness with light provided merely by lit candles, his gaze lingered on her, noticing a hint of determination yet tenderness within her eyes. her unspoken response to his question echoed louder than words, her gentle touch against his cheek sparking a warmth within him. her kiss conveyed a multitude of emotions - assurance, passion, and an unspoken commitment to what lay ahead. feeling the synchrony of their hearts beating, yejoon couldn't surpress the giddiness that blossomed within him. her whispered affirmation echoed in his mind, confirming what the new unspoken connection had been hinting at for so long. in that fleeting moment, surrounded by the anticipation and thrill of the night, he sensed a profound shift in their relationship. a momentous turning point that would bond them in a way that surpassed societal norms or expectations.

his own smile is soft and gentle as he softly murmured, "i'll take care of you." acknowledging her without words, relishing in the shared understanding that transcended verbal expressions. he knew that this night marked the beginning of an entwined journey, a path where their hearts and souls would converge in beautiful harmony. slowly circling her until he's facing her back, yejoon lifts his hands to her hair, length strands carefully and beautifully braided. "we'll take it slow," he begins, leaning forward to press a kiss upon the nape of her neck before releasing her hair from the braids. "if you get uncomfortable at all... tell me, we can stop any time. you being uncomfortable does not count for any feelings of rejection. i won't enjoy this if you're not enjoying it yourself."

straightening up once more, the tips of his fingers linger over her waist as he continues, "i'll start with taking this off of you, and then you can take mine off. how's that sound?" if her body was the canvas, his fingers were to be a brush as they carefully untied and ped the attire decorating her figure, piece by piece. beginning with the jeogori, the item slides down the length of her arms with ease before being carefully folded and set aside, followed by the chima and baji shortly after, and leaving her within her remaining underwear.

taking a step back, yejoon circles her to face her again with a lingering smile and a look of bemusement. "i wasn't sure if you wanted me to take off your shoes." he couldn't help but chuckle, only to run his eyes over her figure moments after. it was as if he had seen her for the first time. /really/ seen her. and was he glad, because she - in this moment - was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

"you're so beautiful, gaeun."

@✿ ahn gaeun yejoon stood rooted in place, his gaze fixed on gaeun, who had just unveiled her heart in the most vulnerable of confessions. her words hung in the air, painting a portrait of courage and devotion that struck a chord deep within him. a myriad of emotions swirled within him as he processed her heartfelt admission, quickly sobering up by the second. her sincerity, the unwavering commitment she expressed, stirred something profound within him. he felt a wave of respect and tenderness wash over him, mingled with a newfound sense of responsibility towards her. and, all of a sudden, yejoon felt undeniably attracted to her within this moment, and for the first time, his body was affected by a sudden magnetic pull - her body acting like a magnetic field. she was postive, and he was negative, and forces of nature were pulling them closer and closer together.

turning towards his horse, he reached into a compartment on the saddle, retrieving his weathered sketchbook before ensuring his horse had ample food and water for the night. he murmured soothing words to his faithful companion, patting its flank before turning back to her with a smile, finally, one genuine. "shall we, then?"

without a word, yejoon offered his arm and led gaeun toward the nearby inn, his strides measured and deliberate, his mind wrestling with the weight of her heartfelt words. he glanced at her occasionally, his expression a mixture of gratitude and reverence for her unyielding spirit.

arriving at the inn, yejoon ensured his horse were to be tended to before securing a room for the night. his motions were deliberate, yet his thoughts were consumed by the depth of her words and the significance they held for both of them. as they stepped into the comfort of the inn, his heart swelled with a silent understanding of the gravity of the moment. her trust in him, her willingness to open her heart so unabashedly, was a gift he hadn't expected. a gift that he could not understand.

in the quiet of their shared room, the male leaned forward to set his sketchbook on the nearest table and turned to gaeun, his eyes reflecting a newfound tenderness and respect. he felt a strong sense of responsibility weighing upon him, one that surpassed the confines of their arranged betrothal.

"gaeun," he began softly, his voice steady but touched with sincerity, "your trust is a treasure i'll safeguard with utmost care. your words... they carry more weight than you know." she was beautiful in the flickering glow of the candles as they cast a serene ambiance, underscoring the significance of the moment. taking her hand, he raises it to press a kiss to her knuckles and then her palm, lingering there as he whispered, again: "you're sure? about this?"

@✿ moon jaehoon Eun’s eyes were on his as he pulled back, a small smile still lingering on her lips as he touched her cheek. “I understand, my lord,” she cooed as he got up, watching him get ready and heading for the door. “Stay safe, my lord.”

And as he left, she felt the silence slowly overtake the room. Her body, tired from their sudden passionate activities, slowly slumped back down on the bed. She had tried to stay awake, wanting to leave a bit after him to afford him his privacy. But as she laid there with her cheeks flush with heat, the smell of his body still on the pillow, she felt her eyelids win the fight against her usual sleeplessness.

Her mind swirled as she fell, her body still on the bed as sleep pulled her into its embrace. And embrace painted with pictures, smells and sounds of one person. A lord who’s arms she felt safe enough to sleep in. Who’s chest was the perfect pillow for any night.
A lord she believed she might have stronger feelings for than she had ever expected.