𝕾𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕸𝖎𝖓𝖊//𝖂𝖊𝖓 𝕵𝖚𝖓𝖍𝖚𝖎

Chap. 10

You can't breathe.

Since the age of fifteen when you'd learned that balls are far from made for gowns and dances, and in actuality a ploy for the rich to obtain something of their own selfish desires, these occasions have more often than not asphyxiated you so.

The myriads of perfume from different individuals who seem to spend an entire bottle for one ball mix together. It's like being locked in a room with ventilation on each wall that does not work to purify the air but pour poison into the compact space.

Not to mention, your body decides to protest against the engagement party by refusing to fit the custom made dress that specifically hugs your curves by making all the right places look bad.

"That's odd," the seamstress gave you a once over with a pair of hands on her hips as the bright yellow tape hanging around her neck laugh at your agony, "it seems like only your belly has put on extra weight."

"Worry not, darling," as she had been the one to make the emerald ball gown, she had also been the one to fix it though not without a few pin pricking your skin, "some have had it worse. I should know, I was there."

Most of the guests have congratulated you and the man standing tall beside you. Your parents have wondered off separately; your mother gathering the gossipiest ladies and your father chatting with the husbands.

In a few years, that will be you. Except you will not be beaming with joy as the tell-tale of the crack in the future presents itself in the smile of a man who's won the lottery, perhaps an entire fortune.

"I must say," Vernon's eyes the guests, lifting his wine glass at your father who caught his gaze in a cheers kind of manner, "I expected some more resistance on your side."

It's not a first that he's shown you his true self. Thus, it is not surprising when you too scoff in response, "Why, this isn't even the highlight."

His eyes widen just the slightest bit before he schools the sombre expression you're becoming used to. Lush pink lips uncharacteristically part and closes as though trying to find words which he never seems to be short of. You don't give him a chance to say anything as you curtsy and leave without waiting for him to bow; a wicked smile on your bright red lips.

You waltz through the hall, chatting with anyone who notices you and stops you to yet again congratulate you on your marriage with such a fine man (rumor has it, his fortune is expected to triple next year! as one interjects).

You move on, going through guest to guest until you can barely remember the faces of who you spoke to; only their fake smiles, diamond rings that glint under the chandelier as they hold the wine glass with the diamond-ringed hand a bit too high and golden ranks pinned on chests and shoulders.

Your driving force is the bubbling anticipation of what will happen when the clock strikes nine. A bit too early for the magic to lose its effect but never too soon for a revelation of grandeur.

A dance with your father and Vernon intervening the third one with your cousin and a second song with him later, a gloved hand taps your husband-to-be's shoulder. The mellow sound of the cello weaves through hushed whispers as your eyes widen when Vernon turns turns to face the bearer of said glove owner (and judging from the material, he seems to have a delicate taste for fine things), "may I?"

Vernon's hand tightens around yours for the briefest moment as though he's hesitant in letting it go but drops it a heartbeat later with his signature smile on his face. You don't know if it's to avoid rumors the longer he waits or if he recognizes Junhui from that time at the black market and deems him not a threat but when Vernon steps away from you, you smile at him nonetheless with your sweet, sweet smile.

"I thought," you step forward simultaneously as he does, hand raised mid-air and curl around his as the other one places itself around his back whilst his free one finds your hip, "we said our goodbyes."

"I never wanted it," he begins to glide you across the dance floor and past the other dancing couples, "a goodbye."

You can still vividly remember the last time you saw him which was two months ago. Not naked─ before that. The sight of him now with a royal deep blue jacket and darker pants with a white belt around his waist and a sword tugged in it is a stark difference to the loose white shirt that he used on most of your meetings and a pair of worn out brown trousers. But to you he is just Junhui, your Junhui. And how very Junhui of him to slip into the invites-only party and conquer the whole room with his mere presence.

"I'm sorry," you trace your hand up from his back and fingers the black and golden insignia on his chest as your other hand slithers down his arm and finds home on his shoulders and his hands on your hips, "I needed to sort my problems on my own first."

The grandfather clock in the corner of the room dings once, twice, thrice before a voice shrieks from the entrance as clatters of shoes on marble follows suit.

"Where is he," a lady in a dress as rosy as her spirits barges in, her cheeks red from anger, "where is my darling?"

"Get this woman out of here!" Your father roars from across the room with a redness to his cheek that can rival her dress, "She's ruining the party!"

"Woman?" She gasp echoes through the entire hall as the music stops in an abrupt halt from your father's piercing command but she's determined to get where she comes here for, "I am his wife!"

"Ah," he, along with the others, follows the point of her finger at Vernon who stands stupefied on the edge of the dance floor but unlike the rest who gazes at the older man with growing contempt, Junhui muffles his laugh under his breath, "so why the farewell?"

"He left me to sail the seas five years ago," she stomps her way to the middle of the floor, passing you and Junhui with a gush of hellish air of a scorned woman, "and I'd heard that Choi Vernon has made a name for himself but I couldn't believe it."

"In case," you wrap lock your hands behind him and loll your head to the side, "I ended up getting slaughtered by his wife on my search for her to relay the utmost urgent matter."

"Then I hear he's getting married," the woman turns to face the still crowd as though they've all been enchanted under her spell, "while he is still legally bound to me! But never mind that, call off this poor excuse of an engagement and I will think moving in with you into your new mansion."

After having seemingly recovered, Vernon grabs his wife's arm harshly as he mumbles lowly but the pin drop silence only serves to enhance even the smallest sound, "shut up, you're making me look bad."

The woman yanks her arm out of his grasp, meeting his death glare with her own.

"My lady," Junhui's hand trails up your arm and you meet him halfway, intertwining your fingers together and lets him raise it to his lips and kisses your knuckles in a room full of people but no one is watching, "sorry I'm late."

"Can you not see it? Nobody loves you more than I," you can hear the woman stutter in her response as she scans through the crowd until she spots you, "your dearest 'fiance' told me about tonight!"

And just like that, all eyes are on you as murmurs begin to spread across the entire room like wildfire, bringing back the curiosity for the man who's not even looking up from kissing your hand. Him and his rose-carved sheath. Him and his royal jacket. Him and his insignia. Him. Him. Him. Before all hell breaks loose. Your father is first to leap through the throngs of people, sweat coating his temple by the time he stops next to you and bows shakily.

"Y-your highness."