"The Court of Air will now convene for the purpose of selecting a suitor that will represent the finest of the four Royal Courts."
Taehyung kept his head bowed as the Court Minister restated the Chief Royal Secretary's decree. For his own sake, it was necessary to maintain a façade of politeness, wooing the Court before the queen. He stood alone, in his father's vacated space, though all around him, sons were crammed into the quaint temple beside their elders. Some were all too confident in their abilities, whispering over the Court Minister's recitation, while others trembled, only in attendance to appease their fathers.
Taehyung bit back a smile. He knew it would all be for naught once he stepped forward.
"You may begin to present yourselves," the Court Minister announced, and there was an immediate flurry of motion as three boys scrambled to the front.
"My lord, I am Kwang-ho, and I–"
"My father belongs to the Ministry of Personnel–"
"My name is Min-kyu, and I am deeply honored to–"
The Court Minister's brow had already furrowed with distaste, a frown etching into his normally upturned lips. From the morning's rant at home, he was already displeased at having to conduct the convention, disproving of the palace's methods to find Joseon's next king.
"It is foolish," he had insisted over a cup of steaming tea. "Even if it will boost the kingdom's morale, give them hope for a better ruler, do we not have more important concerns?" He believed in swiftly instating a king to deal with the growing tensions between Joseon and Japan, not engaging in a foolish competition to empower the queen. But he could not voice those concerns while holding the most important position in the Court of Air.
The potential suitors varied in age, Taehyung noticed. Some were ahjussis, from the same generation as his wrinkled, wearied father. Others were no older than children. The Court Minister paid little attention to those – Joseon required a man for a king, not trembling boys who flung themselves at the Court Minister's feet. Taehyung would do no such thing either. When the presentations finally slowed, and the sun was setting on the horizon, he raised his head and stepped forward. A ripple of whispers and disappointed groans shot through the temple like a tsunami with every echoing footstep of Taehyung's boots.
"The Court Minister's son," they murmured amongst themselves. "Our children are surely doomed now."
"Court Minister," Taehyung called out. His father looked down upon him with a wearied expression. "My name is Kim Taehyung, and I present myself as the Court of Air's representative suitor. For years, I have studied as a scholar, making it my duty to learn about the political, economic, and societal functions of Joseon. I have become a skilled swordsman and archer, enabling me to protect myself against those nations who would dare consider us inferior. As much as I have yet to learn, there cannot be a more fitting ruler for Joseon than myself. If I am presented to the queen as a representative suitor, I have no doubt that I will win her heart, and you will see me, your son, become King Taehyung of Joseon."
His confidence, contradictory to his previous subservience, sparked more murmurs until the Court Minister demanded silence. "Have we any more presentations?"
Silence. Even those who had not yet stepped forward would not dare challenge Taehyung now. He had all but won the representation.
"Then it falls upon me to make a decision." The Court Minister paused for several moments, surveying the orderly crowd gathered in the temple. Never once did his gaze rest on his son, which made Taehyung's hands curl into fists beneath the sleeves of his robes. What game was he playing? Even the Court itself had no doubt that Taehyung would proceed as representative suitor – why would his father give hope to others where there was none? "Would..." The Court Minister sighed. "Would Choi Min-kyu, son of Choi Jung-il, Jeongrang of the Ministry of Rites, step forward?"
A wave of shock descended upon the Court, expressed in murmurs, hurried whispers, and confused shaking of the head. As his father still would not look at him, Taehyung forced his lips into a relinquishing smile and returned to his place, allowing Min-kyu to stand in his stead.
"As Court Minister on the Court of Air, I... I elect Choi Min-kyu as the Court's representative suitor. Min-kyu-ssi, you will proceed to the palace in three days' time with the purpose of winning the queen's heart and competing against the other Courts to become king of Joseon. This convention is dismissed."
Since that moment, Taehyung had not ceased to quiver with rage. Even as he sat on his bed, his hands trembled violently and his eyes were bloodshot from angry tears. Every hair was on end, every vein prominent against his skin. His thoughts were muddled by fury against his father, who had elected Choi Jung-il's son, a nobody.
"Taehyung..." His mother's voice was hesitant, and her head was bowed. Her trembling hands clutched a tray of tea.
"Leave me alone," he ordered.
She persistently stepped closer until she had reached the side of his bed. "You must drink this, Taehyung... for your health."
"I do not want it."
"Please..." Balancing the tray on one hand, she reached out to lovingly smooth down the loose hairs on his forehead. His hand lashed out and smacked her arm away.
"I told you to leave me alone." Another blow, and the tea tray was smacked from his mother's hand, spilling uselessly onto the ground. Sobbing, quivering with fear, blubbering meaningless apologies, his mother flung herself onto her hands and knees. "Is it so difficult to comply with simple requests? Are you truly so foolish? It is a wonder why my father married you if you cannot abide by the commands of your superiors."
"I-I am s-sorry, T-Taehyung..."
"Are you?" He knelt down and gripped her chin, tilting her head at an awkward angle. "Are you sorry for your actions, or are you sorry for me? Are you sorry that my own father would elect another man's son?"
"I am sorry for everything," she whimpered. "That I have so clearly f-failed you."
It took him a moment to realize the accusatory implications behind her words. He released her chin and stood, but before he could unleash his anger with a rough kick, his father called his name.
"Finally come home, have you?" Taehyung snarled. "Are you finished avoiding me like a coward, Father?"
"Do not be rash, Taehyung. You know why I could not elect you."
"I would request that you enlighten me. It is blatantly clear that no suitor could be more fitting than myself."
His father's perpetually sorrowful expression faltered to a moment of distaste as he swept his arm across the room, gesturing to the overturned tea tray and Taehyung's cowering mother. "Even the Mad King would not have behaved this way."
"The Mad King would not have responded to injustice?"
"What injustice has been done? It is a simple matter of electing a suitor, and you were not elected. You can continue to become a scholar, just as you have dreamed."
"No, that is your dream," Taehyung hissed. He gripped the front of his father's robes, pinning him against the doorframe. His mother pleaded him not to hurt anyone, but he silenced her with a rough shout. "I will no longer allow you to live your own dreams through me. I aspire for greatness beyond a scholar's life." He chuckled, reveling in how his father trembled. "You will regret not electing me. I promise."
The following morning, the Court convened again. With trembling hands and tearstained cheeks, Choi Jung-il announced that his son had been murdered during the night – he had found Min-kyu in the morning with his throat slit. Taehyung feigned shock and horror until his father looked at him. Then, involuntarily, his mouth tugged upwards into a malicious, smug smile.
The blood is on your hands, he mouthed.
The Court Minister elected him as representative suitor within the hour.
~ ~ ~
It was quite ironic – poetic, almost – for Fire to spend every day at sea, floating among the rippling waves until the village coast was blinded by the setting sun. Hoseok detested the pungent, salty odor, the coolness of the ocean breeze, but the remote fisherman's town was the only reason he had survived for so long. Besides, the more time he spent at sea, the easier it was to tolerate the rocking of his vessel and the mindless chatter of his companions.
"The hour of the dog is upon us. Shall we cast a net over the side?" In-sik suggested. He was a heavyset man with messy hair, ragged clothes, and a hungry family of eight.
"All day, we have not caught a single fish, yet you assume fish roam free in the hour of the dog?" Chul was a younger man, with sharp eyes and an even sharper tone. Hoseok got along rather well with him, but at so late an hour, even his friend's voice was irritating.
"Appease him. It will take naught but several minutes," he said, allowing his eyes to flutter shut. Admittedly, he could understand why the village was a haven for Water – there was something enchanting about laying upon a rocking boat, the sea lapping at one's cheek, the ocean breeze fluttering the hair lain upon one's forehead. But Hoseok craved the intense heat of the dying embers in his fireplace at home. He merely wanted to appease In-sik so the three fishermen could return home happily, perhaps with a token of their hard work.
Chul complied with Hoseok's command, and several minutes later, his whispered complaints and disappointed mumbles ceased. In-sik divulged his joviality with a hysterical laugh and amusing dance. "Five fish!" he exclaimed, hoisting the net into the vessel. "Five!"
"Delightful," Chul said dryly, but Hoseok saw a smile threatening to break through his stoic exterior. "Can we return to shore now?"
They reached the harbor just as the sun's rays diminished on the horizon, relinquishing to the moon's reign over a starry dusk. In-sik was unable to contain his excitement and danced while dividing the fish amongst the three. "Two," he said, "will go to the market, and three will be our dinners." Thus, Hoseok set out for his house with a single fish slung over his shoulder. A miserable, dying flop from the creature startled him out of his wits, and he picked up his pace, paranoid that it was a bad omen.
He was all too acquainted with bad omens.
His evening was rather uneventful. He spent it beside the fireplace, chewing distastefully on the salty fish. Life was easy for Water – they drank it, bathed in it, lived amongst it. But for Fire, it was hardly possible to spend one's life among the flames. Weariness fell upon him like a downpour, and he curled up beside the fire, ignoring his bed as he had for so many nights. He prayed that his dreams might reflect the day's boring events.
They did not.
"Hoseok-ah..."
"Y-yes, hyung?" His childhood self was crying, too young to mask his sorrow. At a mere eleven years old, he was a spectator to father's declining health and, eventually, his death. He remembered it like it was yesterday, when his father breathed his last breath, his eyes fluttered shut, and his head dropped to the pillow. For several days afterward, he had been horribly, terribly alone while his mother and brother handled other affairs.
Then, abruptly, he was summoned to his brother again. They stood in a garden blossoming with spring's new life. His brother was as stoic as always – he had not reciprocated Hoseok's embrace and reluctantly kneeled to look him in the eyes.
"I need you to leave. Only for a few days, you see. I have noticed how Father's death affected you, and I wish for you to return to our home in the countryside so that you might find happiness again."
Hoseok was startled and glanced up to the intense fire always burning in his brother's eyes. "Really, hyung? You care about me?"
"Of course not," his brother scoffed. His grip on Hoseok's shoulders tightened, like a snake coiling around its prey. "I feel nothing for you, for anyone. I am sending you away to have you killed. But you are too ignorant to know this."
Hoseok was no longer a child anymore. He was a fully-grown adult, staring at his unfeeling brother with all the coldness he could muster. "I am lucky I escaped, then," he said. He refused to divert his gaze, no matter how much fear coiled in his chest.
His brother tilted his head, and a sickening, sardonic smile rose to his lips. "Are you?" He burst into flames, and Hoseok's heart nearly leaped out of his chest.
He woke with a jolt and immediately sat upright. A bead of sweat dripped down his cheek. He did not want to ponder on the dream's meaning – he had spent too many hours in past years worrying about its implications. So, he tried to find something to distract himself before he returned to his final hours of sleep.
It came in the form of an explosion that rang from afar.
Shaking his legs to free them from the tangles of his blanket, he crossed the quaint room to fling open the door and peer out into the night. The opened door welcomed the boom of another explosion and the distant screams of civilians. A lone woman came running up the street, repeatedly glancing over her shoulder. When Hoseok stepped into the street and gripped her wrist to stop her, she gasped and thrashed.
"Please, let me go," she begged. "We have to leave – we all have to evacuate the village."
"What is going on?" he demanded, concerned by the bruises and ashes marring her skin.
"Pirates. Japanese pirates. They have invaded the harbor."
"What?!"
Her face crumpled and she once again attempted to yank her wrist from his grip. "Please, we do not have time for questions. You must leave, now!"
Another explosion rang out, this time closer, and Hoseok was so startled that he released her. She continued her swift pace down the street, but he hurried back into his home and packed anything and everything that was valuable to him. By this time, the street outside of his house was filled with a dense crowd of people that fled the pursuing pirates. Every shrill scream was now so close that it pierced his ears.
His alertness had already prepared him when the door swung open, and something compelled him to duck. An axe buried itself in the wall behind him, right where his head had been. The Japanese pirate growled and stalked across the room. Hoseok tried to scramble away, but the man gripped him by the front of his robes and pinned him against the wall. He was taller, stronger, eyes blazing with murderous intent, but Hoseok was faster, and he slammed his knee into the man's groin. The pirate cried out, and the sound rung in Hoseok's ears.
"Come out, little boy. I promise, death does not hurt."
A door opening.
Footsteps padding across the floor.
A face peering under the bed.
A cry of pain, and the same face was marred by blood.
The squelching of a sword stabbing through skin – once, twice, three times.
Hoseok crumpled against the wall, panting heavily. The man had retrieved his axe now, but his aim was off, and it grazed Hoseok's forearm. Blood dripped down to his hand, tracing the crevices of his palm, and the sight awoke something dark in Hoseok. He lunged forward, wrapped his hands around the pirate's neck, and shoved him into the fireplace. All that remained were dying embers, but it hurt enough to distract the pirate until his own axe was buried in his chest.
The dark desire to kill faded as swiftly as it had arrived, and Hoseok stumbled backwards. He was flooded with remorse and guilt, but rather than being horrified at his work, his sentiments propelled him out the door with a pack slung over his shoulder and the pirate's axe clutched in his hand.
At the coast, smoke billowed up to shroud the moonlight. The relentless fire of cannons had enflamed many of the coastal buildings, and the fire was spreading near to where Hoseok stood. Yet, he could not move. The empty streets had transformed into a battleground. There was blood everywhere he looked, splattered against the walls, dripping steadily onto the dirt, tarnishing robes. The pirates were ruthless against the unarmed villagers, unfazed by the blood staining their hands.
A pirate's blade sliced through a woman's throat, and the darkness coiled in Hoseok's soul lashed out again. He lunged forward, intending to give the pirate exactly what he deserved, but he never received the chance to deliver a blow. His house exploded behind him, and as if the sudden, overwhelming heat was not enough, a piece of debris hit the back of his head. He experienced a moment of red-hot pain at the source of the wound, and then nothing.
A/N: this chapter is another example of flawed characters. keep an eye on taehyung throughout the story -- the sudden personality change in future chapters is completely intentional ;)
alsoooo what are we thinking about hoseok? this chapter had a bunch of hints about his background, and for anybody who has seen "the crowned clown," you might notice some parallels between this chapter and the first episode.
(if you haven't seen "the crowned clown," it is literally one of the the best films -- not just k-dramas! -- i've never seen. i highly, highly, HIGHLY recommend it, especially if you want to have moments of "WAIT THAT'S FROM THE CROWNED CLOWN" as you read this book hehe.)
Published July 16, 2021.