Chapter Text
There were three things that The Great Joseon Country was known for.
One was the beauty of their Princes, and The Great Joseon Country possessed two: the Crown Prince, who was appointed as heir to the throne, and the Grand Prince who was the son of the king and queen consort, not entitled.
The Crown Prince was as strict as they came. There were a set of rules that he lived by: Always be on time. Respect the elders. Take responsibility for his actions. And do whatever it takes to preserve the safety of his people. He would often be found training at the campgrounds, sparring with one of his close military acquaintances to sharpen his physical combat skills. Or at the large Royal Library, with stacks and stacks of books and scrolls by his side, studying ceaselessly the history and the law of the land. And attending council meetings, either observing how the King would carry out the assembly or holding the meeting himself.
There was one exception to these rules though, and that was his love for his dear brother, the Grand Prince. It was a grand name for a grand boy, suitable since everything he said and did embodied his grandeur. Even from the beginning, he was a miracle. Born five winters after his elder brother, the Grand Prince had come out of the womb with labored breathing during midsummer. For a fortnight, he barely shed tears or nursed from his mother’s breast, far from standard compared to other infants. The healers had warned The Royal Family that the newborn prince would not make it past summer’s end. It wasn’t until the first moon cycle had passed that the Grand Prince finally made a fuss, and it was a cry that signified the baby was alive and well. It was nearly impossible, a one in a million chance according to the healers. And so it became word that although the Grand Prince was no god, he was deemed as magical as such.
Unlike the Crown Prince, the Grand Prince lived by only one rule. And that rule was There are no rules . Like his elder brother, the Grand Prince would often be found at the campgrounds. However, he did not train for combat, but rather shamelessly ogled at the soldiers practicing there. Not including the times his mentor forced him to study, not once had he ever visited the Royal Library, but it seemed he had garnered a vast knowledge of all topics from simply conversing with as many people as he could. His first few times observing council meetings, he had not been able to hold his tongue, and since then he had been banned from participating in the assembly.
Despite their differences, they were as beautiful as each other. And just like their personalities, their attractive features were not at all the same. Everything about the Crown Prince was sharp everywhere, with his sharp cheekbones, sharp chin, and even a sharp Adam’s apple. He had an oval face with thick, straight eyebrows above almond-shaped eyes. His high nose was a good complement to his perfect Cupid’s bow. It was an icy allure that bewitched many citizens of Joseon.
It was also a direct contrast to the Grand Prince’s warm beauty. Unlike the Crown Prince, much of the younger’s facial features were rounded. The sharpest things about him were his wit and his tongue. He sported a heart-shaped face with heart-shaped lips and sunkissed skin. His hair was not pure black but a woody brown. And like the browns of his hair, his round eyes were a deep amber. As sweet as his features, his voice held a distinct honey-like texture when he sang, enchanting the residents of Joseon with his vocal prowess and his summer beauty.
One of those bewitched residents was Lee Minhyung.
Many people around the East had heard of the beautiful princes of Joseon, and about just as many had caught wind of the rising general. Lee Minhyung, though still young, had gathered quite a following after helping chase out the Eastern invaders during the Imjin Disturbance1. And again after being promoted General, during the Chongyu War in which the Eastern invaders had surrendered after limited progress on land and continued disruption of supply lines by the Joseon navy.
Of course, none of that was possible if not for the Ming Dynasty from across the West who had continually supplied them with soldiers to push back the Easterners from the peninsula. The Imjin War had ended with success from the Ming Empire and The Great Joseon Country. Though this is, there had been talks of how much of the Ming Empire’s resources were depleted by the war, but none of Joseon, the Easterners, or the Westerners had made move to invade the Ming Empire during the most challenging time of their dynasty.
Though Lee Minhyung had yet to experience three decades in this world, he had grown old all the same.
War did that.
Along with the princes and the fearsome general, the third thing Joseon was known for were the spectacular feasts they held to celebrate the Royal Family. During these bouts, the Royal Palace would open its doors to many of its citizens. The celebrations would start from the lower ground where a parade would precede the King and His relatives in drum beats and dancings. The Royal Family would greet the people as they were showered with rose petals and grains of rice, and this continued all the way to the entrance of the Royal Palace. Bright lanterns were hung in lines from tower to tower, illuminating the court in a golden glow. Entertainers wearing vivid colors would display their talents as the Royal Family and members of the State Council would eat and watch from their tables, offering their attention and applause to the performers. Generally, the festivities would be alive until the bell tolled at midnight. Beginning at sunset, The Royal Family and the government officials would consume jars and jars of wine until the bell rang.
Nobody took advantage of this more than the Grand Prince who possessed a particular affinity to wines of all kinds—milky rice wine, clear rice wine, and of course wine made from chrysanthemum blossoms.
And tonight was not an exception.
“You need to relax,” the Grand Prince urged, rubbing both of Minhyung’s shoulders. “How about some wine? To soothe the nerves.”
“Like I said the last time you offered, Donghyuck, I cannot,” he countered. To Minhyung, the Grand Prince was just Donghyuck. Anyone else who used the prince’s real name would be sentenced to some form of light punishment. By the prince, no less. “It will not be wise to be under the influence if the rest of the soldiers are also drunk. Who else would take care of the people if we happen to be under attack?”
“Yes, please, do be a spoilsport,” Donghyuck rolled his eyes. That was the thing about the younger prince. If there was anyone who exhibited the slightest bit of apprehension at the prince’s actions, they will be immediately dismissed. Minhyung had noticed this more times than he could count. After all, they had known each other since they were children.
Minhyung’s parents were of noble descent and had a good influence over the court as they were in the Ministry of Taxation. As such, Minhyung spent much of his time in the palace as his father attended meetings and his mother loitered around in giggles behind decorative folding fans. Rather than holding him back from befriending the prince, his parents had actually encouraged him to do so.
If there was one thing that Minhyung remembered from his parent’s teachings, it was that Friendship breeds Trust. Trust begets Control. Control generates Power. And Power is everything.
Consequently, Minhyung learned from his parents that power (and the idea of power) had a proclivity to seduce people to desire more of it. And Minhyung refused to be like them. His friendship with Donghyuck was nothing close to the quest for power his parents were so obviously lost in.
“Apologies if being a smart, honorable soldier equates to being a spoilsport,” he sighed.
“Goodness, you’re dramatic. Whatever happened to the Minhyung who would engage in top-spinning with me under the blistering sun? Or the Minhyung who flew his kite in the fields to distract ourselves from the cold winter?”
“I’ve matured.”
“You mean you’ve grown old and boring,” Donghyuck pointed out, giggling. Even though they were only born a winter apart, the younger still managed to tease him about his age relentlessly.
“I’ve not grown boring,” he muttered.
It was a touchy subject.
“If that’s so, then why do you have an empty cup?” Donghyuck wiggled his eyebrows.
Minhyung had always been weak to the prince’s advances, had spent most of his time at the mercy of Donghyuck’s large personality. This was evident in their younger years, when he convinced Minhyung to go to the kitchen with him to steal some extra mooncakes, even when Minhyung knew it was wrong. In their teenage years, when Donghyuck persuaded him to dip into the icy water naked as the day he was born. And now, as he looked at Minhyung with mischief bright in his eyes.
“If I take one drink, will you stop bothering me about it?”
The grin the prince sent his way was unnerving to say the least. Minhyung had always been easily conquered by the prince, never even posing a challenge. And so one drink had turned to two, two drinks became four, and it kept increasing until Minhyung had lost count of how many cups he had taken.
He was properly warm now, heat pooling in his stomach and coloring his cheeks. The world was moving despite how he tried his utmost to stay still. Red in the face with too much alcohol running in his bloodstream, the Grand Prince had hung onto Minhyung’s shoulders for support as they laughed the night away, much to the glares and scowls from some of the government officials.
Most vocal of the night was Minister Ahn from the Ministry of Personnel.
“How indecent,” Minister Ahn had grouched from the back. Though Minhyung could not see him, he could recognize that scratchy voice anywhere. Had heard him berate the servants more often than not. “A prince of Joseon should never act so unbecoming of his title.”
“Let the Grand Prince be,” Minister Kim goaded the elder. “He is young and carefree. Let him have his fill of life before it becomes bombarded with duties.”
And Minister Yang from the Ministry of Rites.
“Young?” he scoffed. Minister Yang’s high-pitched voice was the type to grate the ears of anybody in his general vicinity. He let out a humorless laugh and added haughtily to Minister Ahn’s remarks. “This winter is to be his twenty-second! His actions are unsuitable for a prince, never mind a king! I, for one, am beyond glad that the Crown Prince had never acted so improperly in front of his subjects. Imagine what the citizens of Joseon would think!”
Minhyung had nearly stood up from where he sat but was stopped by the hand on his arm.
“Don’t pay them any attention,” Donghyuck uttered. “You will just make matters worse for yourself.”
The general scoffed. “It is not about me. My anger stems from the disrespect they hurl at you. Does it not bother you that they talk bad behind your back?”
The prince hummed. “I’m sure they’ll get what they deserve. Karma has always been a sneaky, little devil,” he commented. It was a peculiar thought. And before Minhyung could reply, the prince handed him another cup. “Let’s not worry ourselves over old geezers whose hairs have grown thinner than their voices. Instead, tell me how this honeysuckle-flavored wine tastes. Commissioned it myself!”
Minhyung sighed but gulped the wine down nonetheless.
When the bell had struck midnight, the festivities were announced to end. Darkness had already filled the sky, and there was too much potential danger waiting in the shadows. Being the gallant gentleman that he was, Minhyung offered to accompany Donghyuck on the way to his room, but the prince had never been one to ask for assistance. Had always been an I’ll-do-it-myself kind of person, an admirable trait only when the time was right. Minhyung figured they adopted each other’s stubbornness in this regard.
“Nothing bad is going to happen to me tonight,” Donghyuck smiled softly. “If anything, I think it’s you who might need accompanying. You can barely walk straight!”
“My walking is -hicc- perfectly fine.”
“Yes, yes,” Donghyuck continued. “Now go perfectly walk your way to your house. It is past midnight.”
“But-”
“That’s an order,” Donghyuck stared at him with glass eyes. Typical of him to pull rank during times like this.
“At once, Daegam .”
He managed a few steps before Donghyuck called again.
“Minhyung,” he said, an almost-whisper in the night. The general looked back over his shoulder and noted the straight posture of the Grand Prince. Donghyuck’s eyes were familiar crescents when he said, “I shall see you where the sun sets.”
Did the prince mean when the sun rises? He giggled. In any case, Minhyung gave a bow and bid the prince good night.
After a minute or so, Minhyung found that Donghyuck was right, as he usually was. Walking proved to be quite the challenge, and he needed to apply all of his focus into putting each foot in front of the other lest he stumble and fall over. Once or twice, he nearly did but caught himself on luckily-placed objects. Stretching a fifteen-minute walk to a half-hour trek, he managed to reach his house without any accidents.
Despite his parents still being alive, he did not share living quarters with them. They had grown too far apart for that. Being a war general also meant he was given his own home by the Ministry of Personnel, complete with three rooms and a spacious yard.
He never did find any use for the extra rooms. The house was simply too big for him.
Unintentionally, he made a path of his clothes on the hallway as he relieved himself piece by piece, until he was shirtless and in front of his bedroom. As soon as he collapsed onto the thick blanket laid on the floor, Minhyung found sleep very enticing. And just before he fell into a deep slumber, he wondered why exactly he was so weak for the Grand Prince and if it will always be that way.
***
Waking up had never been a struggle for Minhyung, but Minhyung and alcohol never truly mixed well.
Before he even opened his eyes, he felt a headache threatening to split his skull. His stomach was boiling despite the chilly air. And even wrapped in his comforter, he could feel clearly on his shirtless torso the harsh sting of the cold, winter morning.
The sun had barely peeked from the horizon when he heard the clamor of the gate opening and closing. Instincts tingling, Minhyung immediately sat up and was about to stand when the pain in his head became so saturated that he saw white. From outside, he could hear the quick footsteps on the wooden floors approaching him. He was getting ready to lunge for his sword when the door slid open with a creaky bang.
“General Lee!” Jisung ‘s beady voice punctured the air, a manic look in his eyes. Jisung was Minhyung’s self-proclaimed protege, following his footsteps in combat and aiming to be a general himself. Minhyung had always advised Jisung against this though, since the younger man held too much goodness in his heart. Also, his combat skills were mediocre at best, but that was neither here nor there. Whatever flame of innocence he possessed would be blown out by the brutal winds of war. However, no warmth could be found in his voice when he said, “There has been an incident.”
The general’s grip on his blanket tightened. The younger man’s breathing was labored. His fists made a rattling noise against the wooden door where they shook uncontrollably. Minhyung was almost too afraid to ask. Out by the terrace, a bird took flight in a flurry of feathers.
“What incident?” Minhyung gulped.
“It’s the Grand Prince!” Jisung exclaimed, dousing Minhyung with icy water. “He’s missing!”