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Chapter Text

The necessary rules

1. Alpha men and alpha women can marry each other. In this case, if the child is an Omega, they can take either of the parents' surnames, but if the child is an Alpha, then the child has to take the father's surname.
2. Alpha men and Beta women can marry each other. If the woman is the legitimate wife, then the child will take the father's surname. If the woman is a concubine, then without permission, the child can't use the father's surname.
3. Alpha men and Omega females can marry each other if the woman is a legitimate wife then, the child will take the father’s surname and if the woman is a concubine then the child needs permission to use the Alpha father’s surname.
4. Alpha men and Omega men can marry each other if the Omega is a legitimate husband then both Alpha or Omega child will be given the father's surname, and if the Omega man is a concubine then surname requires the Alpha father's permission.
5. Alpha men and Beta men can marry each other but if there is a requirement of heirs then the Alpha will have to get a concubine who can produce an heir.
6. Two Alpha males can marry each other but it is severely frowned upon both have to get a legitimate heir through a concubine
7. Two betas can marry doesn’t matter if they are males or females, they can adopt a child if needed.
8. If two omegas want to be together they need to find an alpha male or female.
9. Female alphas and male omegas can marry each other if the Omega is a legitimate husband then both Alpha or Omega child will be given the Alpha mother’s surname, and if the Omega man is a concubine then the surname requires the Alpha mother’s permission.

Chapter Text

"What do you mean by this Eunseo, why are you doing this ?"

"Oh, poor poor Oppa, the graceful young master, the legitimate eldest son of the Yoon family how far you have fallen dear brother!" Said Eunseo while stomping over a frail hand.

Jeonghan couldn't believe his ears the girl whom he treated like his younger sister whom he protected and gave shelter when she needed it the most was the person who betrayed him, the physical pain was not more than emotional pain and turmoil that he was going through. He recalled the time five years ago when he saved Eunseo and her mother Lady Li from bandits, and how deceived by their fake words, he welcomed his enemies right into his home and created the path for his fall.

 Five Years ago

The Duke of the South was beloved by the people of the whole empire and even the Imperial family gave them respect not only for their long-standing reputation but also for their valour in wars. Duke of the South Lord Kim Dong-gun's legitimate wife Lady Yoon was not only known throughout the empire for her beauty but also because of her talent in business, originally Lady Yoon Bo-ram's family was known for their vast business connection throughout the empire even in the neighboring countries.

Lady Yoon being the legitimate eldest daughter and alpha was naturally respected and given a percentage of the shops in the south to manage after her wedding to the Duke of South, but through her wit, she transferred the small percentage of shops into a very intricate and respected business chain which stands on its own without any help from the Yoon family, Jeonghan her eldest son even after being  an Omega has inherited his mother's talent for business. Jeonghan was out to oversee some of the shops they had in the nearby city on behalf of his mother when he stumbled upon a group of bandits trying to abduct a lady he quickly instructed his guards to save the lady. After an altercation with the bandits Jeonghan's guards were able to save the woman and her mother.

Present-day

Jeonghan could have never thought that the whole altercation was fixed and staged just so Eunseo and her mother could enter the Duke's mansion. Who would have thought that Lady Sung Dahee was his father's first love and this plan was orchestrated by his father to let Sung Dahee and her daughter enter the Duke's mansion? His thoughts were broken when he felt an unbearable pain in his face, Eunseo was holding a scorching hot iron stick to his face to burn him.

"Dear Oppa you think that just because you are the legitimate oldest son of the duke's mansion and your mother the Noble lady you two can have everything while me and my mother suffers, you would be mistaken, that even I can have all the things that you have your clothes, your final jewel and even the man you want to marry, if not given willingly then I will snatch them all, and guess what the man you devoted yourself to, he wants to ruin your family. Also that stupid Lord Han your father he betrayed his wife who was nothing but faithful and loving to him, he killed her, but who would have thought that he would dig his own grave, tsk... tsk..."

"Well after today the southern Duke mansion will cease to exist" Jeonghan was shocked he couldn't believe his ears his mother was betrayed and killed by his father and Choi Jungil his betrothed betrayed him to ruin his family. " Thank you Eunseo, my love for helping me to put this prude bitch into his rightful position as an Omega, he used to think that he was untouchable, look at him now how far the high and mighty Young Master Jeonghan has fallen” a crude laugh erupted from the man’s voice, it was Choi Jungil his betrothed.

“ Well he is not going to live any longer, so I guess he should learn what happened to his family don't you think?"

"Darling, tell this batch what is left of the Duke's mansion." Eunseo said in a coquettish tone.

 "Guess what Jeonghan your father was a stupid man, he thought just because his family has a reputation throughout the country he could do what he wanted, but guess what he was utterly stupid and got caught in his web of deception, I just trapped him a bit more and lo and behold he falls, if only he cared for his wife a bit he would not lose his head rather he betrays her and kills her " Jeonghan shuddered hearing the Alpha speak.

 Few years back

Just like the Duke of South, the Duke of North was also one of the founding pillars of the Mei Dynasty. The current Northern Duke Choi Seunghcheol was one of the strongest Alpha to exist in the empire. He has protected the country from Northern invaders for almost two decades. Choi Seunghcheol held the title of Northern Duke after the death of his grandfather, he was granted the title at 15 after a valiant return when his grandfather died. Seungcheol's cousin's families are constantly trying to gain the heir title of Northern Duke as Seungcheol was untamed and was poisoned during a battle with the Northern Barbarians. The second Choi household had an Alpha child Choi Jungil who was adopted by Seungcheol so that he could be named heir if anything were to happen to Seungcheol.

During a flower viewing banquet arranged by the Eldest Princess's mansion Jeonghan and Choi Jungil met, soon Jungil tried all means to court Jeonghan and soon they were betrothed.

Present time

 Jeonghan remembered the past when he was utterly in love with Jungil and now he can't believe that the man would betray him like that. "Don't worry Jeonghan, your attendant Seungkwan and your beloved little brother Jihoon have been taken care of, seeing their age and noninvolvement in the treasonous plotting I personally requested the Ministry of Justice to spare them from execution and be sent to the Imperial Dance house, I assure you they will be well cared for," Jungil said with a lecherous  laughter.

"No.. no... no you can't send them to that place, that is worse than local brothels they would die why would you do that to them Jungil what did they even do to you" Jeonghan begged the man.

 "Eunseo please please you know them how they are, please persuade Jungil to not do that" Jeonghan tried to hold onto Eunseo's foot to beg.

Eunseo shook her foot and said with a grunt " Yes they did not do anything but guess what they always stood by your side and just paid its price, and if you are that saddened thinking about them I am sure Jungil Oppa can do something about it right Oppa?" her voice dripped with a false concern.

 " Sure, sure I will” he smirked.

“ In the meantime my men have worked hard to help the Ministry of Justice in this case, and they deserve some rewards I guess, and what better reward than noble omega Yoon Jeonghan," Jungil replied to Eunseo.

 Jeonghan understood what he tried to mean by that he would be abused and raped by Jungil's men. "No, no... please no please don't do that I beg you." Jeonghan cried while begging. "Well, there's no other way so suffer now you prude bitch" Jungil grumbled.

Jeonghan saw two of Jungil's men approaching him, he realized that if he didn't do anything now then it would be too late. In a last attempt to save himself, Jeonghan grabbed the sword hanging from Jungil's waist and without any second thought, he slit his neck with it. As he started to lose consciousness he had only one thought in mind if only he could change everything, if only he could start anew, maybe things would have been different.

Chapter Text

In the beautifully decorated room on a mahogany wood bed surrounded by silky gauze curtains of light bamboo colour laid the figure of a fragile young man who looked like as if he was carved out of the most precious jade stone by the God's above . The young man's finger were twitching softly and slowly a pair of brown eyes opened those eyes looked like as if it had the hues of autumn.

 When Jeonghan woke up, he felt that a strong piercing headache was splitting apart his head. His mouth and lips felt extremely dry as if he has not drunk water for a long time. He couldn't understand his situation, did he not die by committing suicide?  Where was he and what was happening? He couldn't put a finger to it. He struggled to get up from his sleeping position, slowly he sat up and looked around, it looked like his old room before things went wrong, he tried to look around when he heard a cheerful voice, "Hyung you are awake! Oh my God you are awake. Do you feel okay?" the voice belonged to Boo Seungkwan, Jeonghan's attendant.

 Even though Seungkwan was his attendant Jeonghan never felt that way as he and Seungkwan grew up together, Seungkwan’s mother died when he was five, and Madam Yoon who brought Seungkwan’s mother along with her from her maiden home never discriminated between the children and both the children grew up as friends and brothers.

 "Hyung you woke up! Is everything okay?" came a calm voice from the side of the bed, it was Jihoon, Jeonghan's brother. Jihoon was the son of Lady Lee Hyun-Mi, one of Jeonghan’s father’s concubine.

 But even after being born from different mothers the children had a bond just as close as brothers from the same mother. Lady Lee was a meek Beta and her nature reflected upon her son Jihoon he was a quiet, calm but a very smart Omega. Lady Lee took the responsibility to care for the children of the Duke’s mansion as Jeonghan’s mother was busy overseeing and caring for the mansion’s finances.

Jeonghan and Jihoon have another brother named Mingyu, the Alpha heir of Duke of South’s mansion, born from the sweet Omega concubine of Duke Kim, she died while giving birth to Mingyu, Mingyu grew up together with Jeonghan and Jihoon. Even after being the Alpha heir of the mansion, his behaviour was unlike the other nobleborn Alphas who like to oppress the Omegas, he was sweet and kind to others, perhaps due to the influence of his two older Omega brothers, he grew up sympathetic towards the pain and woes of Omegas.

 Suddenly overcome by emotions seeing his beloved friend and brother Jeonghan was at a loss of words, he had no idea what to say. Memories of a distant past life came to him, and suddenly hit with the suspicion that he is alive, and looking at Jihoon and Seungkwan alive and well, tears started to trickle down Jeonghan's cheek. Seeing him cry both the younger Omegas had no idea what to do so, they just wrapped themselves around him.

 "Hyung, don't cry Madam Yoon will be ok, she is just down with a simple flu, she will be up and about in no time." Seungkwan assured Jeonghan.

 "You fell into the pond in the garden, and would not wake up, everyone was worried sick even Abeonim came to check on you." Jihoon said to Jeonghan.

Jeonghan overcame with a rollercoaster of emotions kept on crying, after some time he stopped crying and realised that he needed to sort his thoughts.

 He said to Seungkwan , " Kwanie, I am starving after waking up, can you tell the kitchen ladies to prepare some light chicken soup for nourishment?"

 "Yes hyung, I was about to go myself and see to it that they prepare your food following the doctor's instruction and bring the medicine to you along with your food." Seungkwan reassured Jeonghan.

"Hyung I will go and inform Mingyu and pass on a message of you waking up to physican Li." Jihoon informed his older brother.

"Okay, off you go both, I will rest some, I feel a bit tired." Jeonghan replied to them.

 "Oh also kwanie can you bring forth the mirror to me?"

"Sure hyung, no worries."

After both of them left Jeonghan hesitantly looked at the mirror, this was his face when he was fifteen , he realised that his suspicion is true, he truly came back to live and all this was not the imagination that his mind conjured up at his last moments.

He realised based on the facts of his mother's illness and his fall on the pond it must be right before he met Eunseo and her mother Sung Dahee. And the tragic events of past that started following one after another has yet to happen.

He recollected his memories of the past his Eomma fell sick, then he met Sung Dahee and Eunseo, how Sung Dahee slowly started to take control of the Duke's mansion, then how Eomma suddenly passed away and few months later his father decided that he will marry Lady Sung Dahee as it seemed that she was truly capable enough to take care of the mansion and slowly Jeonghan lost his position as the legitimate eldest son of Southern Duke's masion and Eunseo became the legitimate daughter.

 They took away everything from him as if it had always belonged to them, and as naive as he was, he let them take advantage of himself, then the ill-fated meeting with Choi Jungil happened and believing his honeyed words he gave up even the last bit of power he had, to Choi Jungil. Subsequently he lost everything he had in life, lost his closest people and even his life.

But as if fate took pity on him or maybe his karma brought him back to his past. Now he has arrived before it all started. He still had time to save his mother , his brothers , the Duke's mansion. From now on he will decide what happens to whom and this is his chessboard and he contols all the pieces. And his enemies should know that there is a saying that Justice is a dish that is best served cold, and his enemies should prepare themselves for what was coming their way and they had no idea how it will be hitting them.

"Fate once forsook me, yet gifted me flame anew, now like a phoenix from ash and memory I rise. I may have known warmth once, but now my heart is ice.

Chapter Text

The year when he was fifteen was the turning point in his fate, so many changes happened at that time, at the past time it seemed as if everything was fine but now looking back it was when things started to go wrong.

Now thinking back Jeonghan realised that there were so many things that didn’t make any sense. How did Sung Dahee and Eunseo appeared at that specific path and how did they known to ask him for help and  how did they know that he will obviously help them.

  There was also the matter of his mother’s sickness, how did his Eomma who never fell sick easily, fell so sick that she needed to recuperate, and even had to die, she is an Alpha, how easy can it be for an Alpha to fall sick even if she is a Female Alpha. Also how did his father decided to marry Sung Dahee as his wife, when she just arrived and they had no previous connection, if his Abeoji needed a wife why couldn’t he elevate Lady Lee to the position of wife, Lady Lee’s family standing isn’t even low, if one thinks about it carefully it was Sung Dahee who had a more lower family standing.

Also, the fact that even before his father married, that vile woman was the one who was controlling the family finances, when it should have been either Lady Lee or him, as the oldest Omega son of the Duke’s Mansion. Things truly made no sense if one looked deeper.

He never considered all these things in the past; he could only blame his fate and the Gods above.

Gods above, he was truly naive now that he thinks about it, who died believing people without even making a true judgement of people, and losing his life as a result.

But now that he has died once, he realizes the events from the past were truly suspicious. It may seem like that the events of his past life is just apparations of his fevered mind while he was sick, nightmares created out of his deepest darkest fears to torment his sick self but he knew better than that, he knows that those were not just his nightmare, everything that he encountered were true.

And the fact that the Gods above and her fate had brought her back to the past means that it was not his time to die. If his fate gave him this chance, he would take this chance to execute his enemies and protect his loved ones.

From now on everything changes, and events from the past must not happen and for his enemies, he has all the time in the world.

 In this life, to change things, he needed to take control of the mansion as early as possible and gather allies to help him, and he needed to become as strong as possible.

Jeonghan was deep in his thoughts when a voice broke his thoughts, “Hyung, I brought you some chicken congee, eat it while it’s hot. After eating, you have to drink your medicines too.” The cheerful voice belonged to Seungkwan.

“Thank you, Kwanie, for bringing me this meal,” Jeonghan said.

“ Aunt Zhou, can you inform Lady Lee and Abeonim that I have woken up?” Jeonghan asked his boudoir nurse.

Aunt Zhou was surprised to see Jeonghan like this, she felt that something seemed different with the young master, as if a different person has woken up, there was something in those soft doe eyes, even though those eyes looked the same soft, doe shaped but there was a sense of determination and strict resolution in that pair of eyes, it looked less like the eyes of a young Omega more like the eyes of a person who has seen the world very closely, aunt Zhou wondered if it was her imagination because how could the young master be any different but she couldn’t help but wonder. Because Jeonghan, as the oldest Omega son of the Southern Duke’s mansion, was raised very sheltered, and his mother cherished him and protected him like a treasure and he grew up very pure and innocent.

Aunt Zhou came to the Duke’s mansion with Jeonghan and later she was selected as Jeonghan’s boudoir nurse and she had cared for him for a long time and knew him the best, so she thought that he would be very scared about falling in the pond and might even cry about it but the young master never showed the signs of crying rather in his behaviour she felt a quiet resolve.

“Yes, young master I will go quickly and inform them.”

Jeonghan was thinking how to navigate the situation and what to do, he realized that patience is a key to success and to topple both the Sung mother and daughter he needed patience and endurance only then can he take his revenge. He looked around the room and saw Seungkwan tidying up the room and suddenly he remembered the past.

The past

“ Hyung be quick you need to escape, I will stall the guards as long as possible, please leave” a crying Seungkwan was urging Jeonghan to escape from the mansion.

“No, no how can I leave you here alone,” Jeonghan was unwilling to leave without Seungkwan.

“Hyung this is not the moment to think about al this, if you can save yourself that will be the best thing we can wish for,  leave quickly and go meet young master Choi, he will definitely help.” Seungkwan forced Jeonghan to leave.

That was the last time both of them saw each other, later he learned from Choi Jungil that Seungkwan and Jihoon were taken to the Imperial Dance House.

Present

Jeonghan remembered the past and recalled how as young Omegas they were taught that if those local brothels were bad then the Imperial Dance House was worse than those, because it entertained customers like Nobels and Ministers and their family members meaning those high born people can torture the Omegas there in any way and no one would bat an eyelash because those Omegas were considered criminals, so nobody cared about them whether they lived or died.

Jeonghan could not even imagine his brothers there. He thought of something.

“Kwan-ah do you want to remove your service and go do something else, if you want that I will help you leave the mansion.

“What even are you saying hyung, why will I leave you, have I behaved in any way that made it look like I don’t want to live here, where will I even go hyung, from childhood I knew this place as home” Seungkwan grumbled.

“And if this is because of Madam’s illness or your fall I assure you I don’t want to leave rather it makes me stay here more.”

Jeonghan felt touched by Seungkwan, his eyes reddened slightly, he thought to himself , that he truly need to become stronger to protect his people.

“Master is here.” Aunt Zhou lifted the beaded curtain carefully and walked in. Behind her followed a tall, robust figure dressed in a crimson coloured robe.

Jeonghan thought to himself that his father claimed sadness for his mother but he had the heart to wear such cheerful colours; he truly was stupid in his past life to believe his father’s act of sadness.

His father really believed that he was untouchable and nobody could control him.

“Abeonim,” Jeonghan called out softly.

Duke Kim looked down at his son, his son looked like a delicate little rabbit, which softened his expression. “ Are you okay now, Jeonghan?”

Lowering his head, Jeonghan replied to him softly, “ I am ok now, sorry for worrying, Father.”

Looking at his son’s meek expression, Kim Dong-gu felt satisfied.

Jeonghan remembered the past how the control of the mansion ended up at Sung Dahee’s hands, he thought of something and softly but with a resolution he said to his father, “ Abeonim sorry to make you worry previously, so for a while I am thinking that I should help father with some of the work at the mansion”.

 Jeonghan smiled softly, “ I think because mother is sick and can’t look after the mansion now, father has to work overtime, I think the household needs someone intimate to look after it.”

Hearing his son, he felt that now it would be easy to bring Lady Sung over to the household, and even his son wouldn’t be able to bother him if he brought Sunghee and her daughter over. But his next words shocked him greatly.

“Father, this is why I have decided that I should take care of the house myself.” Jeonghan’s words were laced with a smile.

Chapter Text

"Nonsense, how can a young child like you care for the household?” Duke Kim was surprised to see his oldest son trying to take control because in the past, this son had never been interested in matters regarding finance or household management. Also, if this child is the one in control of the household, then how can he bring Dahee to the mansion? All of his plans will fail, and he can’t let it happen.

“ Abeonim, why not? I already look after so many of our shops, I surely can look after the household. If you have a problem, then ask Lady Lee what she has to say?” Jeonghan said with a smile.

“Also, abeoji, this is my way of helping eomma, if she sees me trying to be more responsible and even caring for the household, when she wakes up, she will surely be overjoyed, and isn’t this just a great thing abeonim?” Jeonghan said.

“Abeonim, this is also helping you to take care of the matters in the house so that you can focus more on your work.” Jeonghan inquired with a tone of concern.

Duke Kim thought to himself that he truly was stuck in a crossroad, if he handed overs the household management to his son, he can’t possibly bring Dahee to the house and let her manage the household without any reason, he would loose his dignity among his colleagues and even be reprimanded by the Emperor himself. But he will also lose an important chance to integrate Dahee into the household. Looks like he had to find another chance for his plans. Who would have thought that this child would suddenly become interested in these matters?

“ Fine, then take care of these matters, take help from Lady Lee if you need, you are pure-hearted and innocent, do not get taken advantage of.” Duke Kim said.

Jeonghan felt cold inside, pure-hearted? And innocent? Of course, in his previous life, he truly was these things, but now he himself can hardly call himself pure and innocent. The him from his past life has burned himself to become this version of himself.

“Thank you, abeoji, this child will keep this thing in his mind and diligently work to take care of the household.” Jeonghan folded his hands in front of him and bowed to his father.

Duke Kim, having nothing more to say to Jeonghan, instructed him to rest some more and leave.

Hearing Jeonghan’s wishes to manage the household nanny Zhou was astonished.

“Young master, do you truly wish to take care of these things in Madam’s stead? “Nanny Zhou was truly surprised because previously, when Madam wanted the young master to help her out, he was never interested in this sort of thing, and there was always a sense of regret in Madam’s heart.

“ I truly do wish to care for the household. I feel like this has always been Eomma’s wish, and fulfilling this would truly make her happy, and I want her to be happy and worry-free when she wakes up,” Jeonghan said with a smile on his face.

“Seungkwan, can you bring Lady Lee over? I am thinking of consulting her about the household’s expenses and other things.” Jeonghan asked.

“Yes Hyung I am going.” Seungkwan replied.

“Nanny Zhao, please bring me the ledgers. We need to organize for the Tomb Sweeping Festival, there isn’t much time for that.” Jeonghan instructed nanny Zhao.

“ I will do that, young master.” Nanny Zhao replied while bowing.

Seungkwan entered the room and announced Lady Lee’s arrival, She is Jihoon’s mother, a quiet Beta woman.

“ You are finally up, young master, good to see you healthy and well.” Lady Lee said.

“ Thank you, Aunt Lee, I asked for you because we need to plan for the Tomb Sweeping Festival,” Jeonghan replied.

“ Yes, you are right, Young Master, as Madam has fallen sick, the Master was looking after these matters with you, but if you take over, it would truly be a great thing. I will help you in any way that I can .” Lady Lee replied.

“Then let’s go over the finances regarding this matter,” Jeonghan said.

The Capital

The Capital was buzzing with the news of the return of the Protector General and the army after a successful victory.

The Duke of North’s mansion was particularly busy for welcoming the army because the Protector general was from the Choi family. Choi Seungcheol was also the Duke of North. This man was known throughout the land for his valour.

If the South had Duke Kim for protection, then the North had Duke Choi Sungcheol for its protection. Seungcheol protected the borders from Northern invasion, the Choi family was one of the long-standing noble families of the dynasty.

The Choi family was based in the Capital, Seungcheol, and through his capabilities became the Protector General of the country, but he was also the Choi family Patriarch, even tho his uncles were alive.

The history of the Choi family was very interesting. The Choi family, along with the Yoons, Kim, and Min, helped the founding Emperor conquer the country. Among these families, the Choi held the most power. Seungcheol’s grandfather Choi Junseo was a capable general just like Seungcheol. Seungcheol learned martial arts directly from his grandfather. Duke Choi married Lady Mei and had a legitimate son, Choi Hojin, and a legitimate daughter, Choi Haeun. Duke Choi had two other illegitimate sons, Choi Hwan and Choi Hosung.

Seungcheol’s father himself only married his mother, Lady Qi Sowon. Choi Hojin and Qi Sowon’s love story was a known ideal throughout the country, but their time together was cut short.

Seungcheol, from his childhood, saw his father and grandfather as his ideals. But during the rebellions, fifteen years back both Duke Choi and Lord Choi lost their lives in the battle. The emperor’s fifth brother, third brother colluded with the Northern invaders and started a rebellion. To quell this rebellion, the Choi family was called upon. Duke Choi’s other sons did not possess their father’s military talent, so they stayed back in the capital. 

Seungcheol was just fifteen years old at that time, but his talent far surpassed his uncle’s at that age, so he marched along with his father and grandfather. During this battle, only Seungcheol survived, but both his grandfather and father died.  The war was not lost; the rebellion was stopped, but Lady Qi lost her mate and husband, and Seungcheol lost his grandfather and father, whom he considered his ideals. After this, Lady Qi lost her mind, unable to recognize even her son, and fifteen-year-old Seungcheol’s world collapsed in front of him.

His uncles did not even spare him at this time; they tried to take control of the family, but thankfully, Sungcheol’s aunt Lady Haeun protected him at this juncture and helped him become the Patriarch of the family. Fifteen years have passed, and now Seungcheol has become one of the strongest men in the Empire.

Even tho he has won every battle and attained victory, no one in the Imperial  Court was willing to get close to this man, because of the rumours surrounding him, rumours suggested that anyone who went close to him might lose their life.

The young noble ladies of the capital at first were interested in him, but his strict temperament made these ladies fearful of him, the smell of blood on his robes made this ladies uncomfortable and they started to avoid him and now he was already past thirty and not even married.

Even the members of his army were surrounded by all sorts of mystical tales, hence, their return was not only filled with happiness, but also a sort of curiosity and fear from the court officials who had to interact with Seungcheol.

Chapter Text

Jeonghan knew that he had to pay special attention during these Tomb-sweeping festivals because it was very much possible that Sung Dahee that vile woman would try all sorts of things just so she could enter the Duke’s household and that meant being prepared for it himself. He knows that if his brothers and friends knew of his ideas, they would be disappointed in him but he remembered the past and he couldn’t possibly take any chance.

“Hyung, you are awake, I missed you so much.” Jeonghan’s thoughts were broken by a warm embrace, it was Mingyu, the sole heir of the Southern Duke’s mansion. This child might be just twelve years old now, but Jeonghan remembered how in the past life, Mingyu never left his side and supported him through all situations, he might have been an Alpha, but he was so very different from their father. Jeonghan had never met any other Alpha who was that sweet and kind, people might compare Alphas with ferocious beasts like wolves but his dear brother was like a little puppy who always followed him.

Jeonghan remembered how Sung Dahee and Eunseo always tried to get Mingyu on their father’s bad side just because Mingyu cared for Jeonghan, and Jeonghan can never forget how seventeen-year-old Mingyu died just to protect the Southern Duke’s Mansion. Jeonghan can never let the past happen again.

“Ok, ok I am fine now MIngoo-yah, let loose you big puppy, and stop crying sweetheart,” Jeonghan said while rubbing a comforting hand through Mingyu’s back.

“Hyung, you didn’t know how worried this one was, he kept checking on you almost every hour.” The calm voice of Jihoon informed their older brother.

“You really missed your hyung didn’t you sweetplum, hyung missed you a lot too,” Jeonghan said while nudging Mingyu’s scent gland.

Mingyu just hugged Jeonghan tighter and reciprocated the action. The bond between Jeonghan and Mingyu was very precious because Mingyu was almost raised by Jeonghan himself. Mingyu’s mother Lady Shin Soo-ah lost her life while giving birth to Mingyu. Jeonghan was just five years old at that time, but seeing this little child who just lost his mother, Jeonghan just felt that he needed to protect this child and care for him. From then on Jeonhan with some help raised Mingyu by himself and To Mingyu Jeonghan was his eomma.

“Hyung, the Hong residence sent news, that young master Jisoo upon hearing that you woke up decided to visit you, he will visit the residence in the afternoon.” Seungkwan informed Jeonghan.

Hong Jisoon was the young Beta son of Marquis Hong, Jisoo’s mother Lady Su was friends with Jeonghan’s mother from their maiden years, and that friendship was maintained even after both of them got married and had to care for their respective families. Even their sons carried this beautiful bond of friendship to the next generation.

“Oh, that is good, tell the kitchen to prepare some light snacks for him, make sure that the food is not spicy,” Jeonghan instructed Seungkwan.

“ Ok, hyung, I will instruct them of it,” Seungkwan said.

It was already afternoon when Jisoo came to visit Jeonghan.

“ I was so worried about you Hanie, even eomma was worried, Bo-ram a-yi is already sick and you fell into the pond, imagine how worried mother was, she sent the maids to get news about you, fortunately, you have woke up, now if only a-yi can wake up, things would be so better then,” Jisoo said.

“Thank you for your concern, Jisoo-yah, send my gratitude to Su a-yi, I hope she can rest assured that I am well. I too hope that eomma will wake up soon.” Jeonghan replied.

“Oh, Hanie, eomma send a hundred-year-old ginseng for you and some tonics prescribed by Doctor Chen,” Jisoo said.

“ Pass my thanks to her Jisoo, we are truly grateful for a-yi’s care. I hope she can visit eomma soon, she will be happy surely.” Jeonghan said.

While Jeonghan and Jisoo were chatting Jihoon, Mingyu, and Seungkwan followed suit and joined them in their conversation.

“ Did you know Hanie, that the Protector General and his army are returning, they would probably arrive after the Tomb Sweeping Festival, and before the Imperial Banquet for the New Years,” Joshua said.

“Is that so? Do you know how Protector General Choi is? In recent times you visited the North, you sure know about him more than us who live in the capital.” Jeonghan asked.

“ The Protector General? I am still not sure how he is but from my time up north I felt that the commoners respected the General to a great degree, but even then they feared him because he truly is ruthless to enemies. “ Joshua said.

“They say he is very bloodthirsty, is that true young master?” Seungkwan asked Jisoo.

“Bloodthirsty, yes that he is, there is no denying that fact.” Jisoo agreed.

“They say he took the enemy general’s head by his own hand, is it really true or just rumor Jisoo hyung?” even the ever-quiet Jihoon can’t help but wonder.

“ Yes, I have heard something like that myself. Maybe it is true.” Jisoo replied.

“ Is he really strong?” Mingyu asked while eating a piece of pastry.

“ Haha, you young Alphas already thinking about your role models.” Jisoo teased him.

“ Do you want to be strong like General Choi, Mingoo-yah.” Jeonghan teased him while poking his forehead.

“Hyung, pleased don’t,” Mingyu whined.

Army Camp

Near Capital

The Choi Army was returning from the battle victorious, the morals were certainly high in the soldiers.

General Choi Seungcheol was busy conversing with his advisor Jeon Wonwoo.

Wonwoo was an Omega, but nobody should mistake him as weak, his appearance deceived people but he was the one who was behind all the plans. Even Seungcheol as the general was fearful of Wonwoo, the Omega was the younger son of the Earl of Dongping, but as an Omega born from a concubine mother, his life trajectory was decided beforehand, but he refused to follow these traditions, he never wanted to be like the other noble Omega son and daughters, he refused to just marry and be showcased like an useless decorative item. From his childhood, Wonwoo was versed in all sorts of books and his interest in politics was surprising. Thus he followed his calling and became one of the very few Omega ministers that the Empire had and even his father had no way to disapprove of him, he could only support his son.

The Duke of North’s mansion was closely connected to the Earl of Dongping’s mansion through marriages and it made Wonwoo and Seungcheol cousins of a sort, Seungcheol always supported Wonwoo in his wish to enter the officialdom and never belittled his passion, and thus supported Wonwoo when he entered Ministry of War. After this both the cousins supported each other.

“ General we are returning after the battle of Northern Pass, the stick in the mud Civil officials will surely squabble amongst themselves to reduce your power, so that they can misuse the powers, so I have prepared a thorough report so that those ministers can keep their mouth shut. Please, take a look at that report.” Wonwoo came into Seungcheol’s tent to remind him of this issue.

“Thank you Wonwoo, but how many times have I told you to address me as hyung, when we are alone yet you always keep forgetting,” Seungcheol said.

“Sorry hyung force of habit, I keep making this mistake,” Wonwoo replied.

Wonwoo and Seungcheol were interrupted by Lee Seokmin, Seungcheol’s vice commander. Seokmin an Alpha was not from any prominent family but through his own efforts raised in military ranking and ultimately became Seungcheol’s vice commander.

“Hyung young master Hansol has arrived along with Lord Kwon Soon-young,” Seokmin informed Seungcheol.

“What are they even doing here, quickly tell them to enter,” Seungcheol said.

Chwe Hansol was Seungcheol’s cousin from his maternal side and he was just twelve years old. Hansol that little Alpha always considered Seungcheol as an ideal and was always seen following Seungcheol around, he was more in Seungcheol’s mansion than his own home.

Hansol arrived with Lord Kwon, he is Lord Kwon Soon-young, an Alpha who can be considered as one of Seungcheol’s friends along with Seokmin, he was a third rank minister in the Ministry of Justice. The alpha was very young for his position, he was just twenty-two years old this year, and there were very few ministers who took such an important position at his age. So it is very evident that he was truly talented in his works. They had a huge gap in their age even then Seungcheol and Soon-young quickly became friends because they shared similar ideals about the governance of a country. Seungcheol also helped Soon-young out a few times in certain cases which deepened their bond.

“ Samchon, I missed you so I decided to come visit you with Kwon samchon.” The young Hansol said.

“ I understand, but I will arrive in the capital in just a few days, why hurry now, there was no need. And who said you can sneak out without informing anyone.” Seungcheol chided the young Alpha.

“Who said anything about sneaking out, I didn’t sneak out,” Hansol replied.

“ You didn’t sneak out? Then where are your guards? Why are you here with Kwon Samcheon and not with your attendants or guard? Do you think I don’t know how you sneak out ?” Seungcheol said with a raised eyebrow.

“Hyung don’t scold him, he truly missed you but he was unable to come because he didn’t get permission as you are coming back in a few days, so he talked with me to come visit you, he didn’t just sneak out without any plan,” Soon-Young said.

“ I know you like to coddle him, but do not coddle him that much he needs to learn responsibilities,” Seungcheol said sternly.

“ Ok, ok we get it mister General now calm down your nephew missed you dearly, cut him some slack, he is just a kid.” Came the cheerful voice of Seokmin.

“ You and Hoshi will spoil him rotten at this rate,” Seungcheol said shaking his head.

Hoshi was a surname used by Lord Kwon Soon-young with his friends.

“ Well let’s all calm down and have some lunch, it is already time for lunch,” Wonwoo said calmly.

“ Yes, advisor Jeon is right let’s just eat hyung,” Hoshi said.

Chapter Text

Tomb Sweeping Festival Day

“Hyung, everything is ready, the carriages have arrived, and we are all ready to go to the mountain for the ancestor's worshipping ceremony,” Seungkwan informed.

“Thank you Seungkwan, let’s go.” Jeonghan said.

All the members of the Duke’s mansion were ready to visit the ancestral grave for this ceremony, this is a significant ceremony because Tomb Sweeping Day signifies the end of the year and marks the beginning of a new year.

 Every family pays special attention to this day and its preparation. The Duke’s family, being part of the nobility, had to pay even more special attention to the preparation. The family members are not permitted to visit the graves on any day but Tomb Sweeping Day is different, it allows family members to visit their deceased loved ones without any restrictions.

Jeonghan was riding with Seungkwan and Mingyu in his carriage, and Jihoon and Lady Lee were in another carriage both these carriages followed the carriage of Duke Kim’s carriage.

“I hope, you understand what you need to do, be discreet don’t alert the authorities, if you succeed you will get more rewards.” Said a hooded figure while giving a pouch with money to a burly man.

“ We understood madam, create a diversion first, divert the carriage of Young Master Yoon, then abduct him and make it seem like human traffickers work.” Said another man.

“ Yes, but hush now don’t expose yourselves. Don’t create unnecessary trouble by grabbing someon else” Said the hooded figure.

The men bowed to her and went on their way. The hooded figure looked like it belonged to a woman. A flicker of light showed her face, it was Sung Dahee. The woman changed her pathway ditched her disguise and entered a small courtyard.

“Eomma, where did you go? Mrs. Lei was looking for you, she came to ask for rent once again.” Said a young woman, it was Sung Eunseo, an illegitimate daughter of Duke Kim.

Lord Kim and Sung Dahee met each other when they were very young, Lady Sung’s mother used to work for Duke Kim’s mother, and both of them grew up together and soon developed feelings for each other, but alas their different social classes made it impossible for them to marry each other.

Soon it was time for Lord Kim Dong-gun to enter officialdom, his father Lord Kim Jaehwan advised him to get married to Lady Yoon Bo-ram because Lady Yoon belonged to the Yoon family, one of the founding families of the dynasty, the Yoons had business all over the country, not only they had power as a founding family but they also had the power of money and business on their hands.

So, the union with the Yoons would be beneficial to the Kim family. Thus Lord Kim Dong-gun and Lady Yoon Bo-ram were wed, but this union was not of love, both of them respected each other’s privacy and never bothered with one another, while Lady Yoon busied herself with the care of the household, Lord Kim was busy with his works.

Throughout this marriage, Lord Kim maintained his relationship with Sung Dahee, and as a result, Sung Eunseo was born. Sung Dahee constantly pursued the matter of her recognition of Lord Kim throughout these sixteen years. Lord Kim was ready to recognize her as one of his concubines, but she didn’t agree, because her ambition lay with being the mistress of the Duke’s mansion.

Both of the lovers tried to concoct different plots to remove Lady Yoon from her position, but they failed because of Lady Yoon’s merit and Kim Dong-gun was scared to lose the Yoon family’s support. This time around they almost succeeded only if Jeonghan stayed put and never tried to take control himself, and Sung Dahee couldn’t see it happen. So, she had to hatch up a different plan, she would first get rid of the fruit and then the tree.

“Just because, that Yoon bitch married early and had her family’s support, I couldn’t marry your father, I suffered without any recognition, ridiculed by those snobbish upperclass, nobles.” Said Sung Dahee gritting her teeth.

“This time around, I thought that maybe I would get rid of that Omega and enter the Duke’s mansion but that stupid brat had to control the household, now first I need to get rid of that brat.” Said Dahee.

“Well, that was in his luck, if he gets ruined or harmed, who told him to snatch away things that should have been mine.” Said Eunseo.,

“I just hope that everything goes well.” Said Eunseo.

“I too hope so, my sweet.” Replied Sung Dahee.

The carriages from the Duke’s mansion were making their way to the ancestral grave of the Kims.

Suddenly, the carriage carrying Jeonghan, Seungkwan, and Mingyu came to an abrupt halt. The sudden halt managed to shake the people inside it.

Jeonghan called out to the coachman , “ What happened mister? Everything alright?”

Hearing no response, Jeonghan motioned towards Seungkwan to check the situation outside.

When Seungkwan looked outside through the window bandits holding different kinds of weapons, surrounded the carriage, and the coachman was nowhere seen.

Seungkwan quickly told Jeonghan about the situation.

“What will we do now, I am scared.” Seungkwan’s voice almost teared up.

“Don’t worry, hyung will figure something out, but make sure that Mingyu is sleeping still and doesn’t wake up, protect yourself and Mingyu, and don’t come outside until I tell you to,” Jeonghan said.

Saying this Jeonghan went outside to confront the enemy outside.

“Who are you all and what is your intention?” Jeonghan said. Jeonghan was scared but his face did not show an ounce of fear rather he looked confident enough that he would be able to protect himself.

“ Us, our intention? Haha, it’s money and beauty to enjoy.” A bearded man replied while laughing.

“Brothers we have a beauty at our hands, he looks like he comes from a powerful family let’s just take him, maybe we can even get a high amount of money selling him to the traffickers.” Said the leader-like one.

The man didn’t even let Jeonghan say anything before they knocked him out.

The Choi Army

The men were closer to the capital, they were on the mountain near the capital, and the men were riding their horses even young Hansol was using a horse himself.

“ Hansol hold onto the horse’s rein tightly, don’t be too tight or don’t be too loose make sure that it is a comfortable force for your horse,” said Seungcheol, the general.

“ Samchon, I know how to ride a horse don’t worry I will not fall over.” Said Hansol.

“Yes, Hyung lighten up Hansol is good at riding the horse he will manage himself.:” said Seokmin.

The men were busy chatting with each other when they stumbled upon a carriage. Outside were two young boys, one of them looked to be at a similar age as Hansol. The boys looked like they crying.

“ Samchon, something must have happened, let’s go see what happened,” said Hansol.

“ Yes, let us go look at what happened.” Replied Seungcheol.

The men arrived closer to the carriage. The two boys looked even more scared when they saw the army approaching.

“Do not be scared, tell us what happened. This is the Protector general and we are with him, he will surely help you.” Said Soon-young while motioning towards Seungcheol.

They looked suspicious of them, but one of the boys spoke up, “ My Lord, I am Seungkwan from Duke Kim’s mansion We were going to the Duke’s ancestral gravesite when some bandits ambushed up, they took Young Master Jeonghan away with them. They are planning to harm my Young master. Please help us General.”

“ What! Bandits this close to the capital! Did you notice which way they went off to? “ Seungcheol exclaimed.

“ I think they went to the west,” Seungkwan said.

“Hansol you stay with Soon-young Samchon here, keep some of the men here. Seokmin, Wonwoo come with me bring a few of the men from Eagle Commandery.” Seungcheol ordered.

When Jeonghan opened his eyes he found himself lying in a thatched cottage. He quickly realized that it was impossible for bandits to be living this close to the Capital, they must be sent by Sung Dahee. Jeonghan knew something like that might happen and he was prepared for a situation like this. He found out that he was not tied up.

“ Good thing, that they didn’t tie me up,” Jeonghan muttered to himself.

They must have thought of him as any other noble Omega and thought that he might be too scared to fight back against them. He needs to move fast. Jeonghan quickly took out a small vial and a knife.

“Well this thing comes in handy, and I carried it today, I just need to sprinkle this towards them and quickly run,” Jeonghan said to himself. The vial contained bone tenderizing powder.

Seungcheol and the others followed the horse foot marks which went towards the West, soon they noticed a small thatched house made up of a thatched cottage and a few men guarding it. They realized that it must be this place. Seungcheol motioned his men to stealthily attack the men and eliminate them. Soon, those bandits had no idea what hit them and they were quickly unarmed and subjugated.

The leaders were not there at that moment it looked like. Seungcheol ordered his men to take away these bandits and sent them over to the Ministry of Justice.

Seungcheol opened the door of the cottage to make sure that this Young Master Yoon from The Duke’s mansion was safe.

Jeonghan heard someone opening the doors, he prepared himself to attack his kidnappers. A man entered the room, Jeonghan quickly sprinkled the powder contained in the vial and attacked the man but the man stopped his knife before it could even touch him. Jeonghan tried to put his whole power to the sword but it would not budge even an inch.

When the powder cleared out and Jeonghan looked closely it was not his kidnapper, it was someone else.

Soon two pairs of eyes met, their eyes met like a vow worshipped by the stars; soft, eternal, and in that moment fate rewrote destinies.

Chapter Text

“ Who are you? Are you the leader of those kidnappers? If you are, then be warned I have sprinkled some bone tenderizing powder on you, you can’t move that easily.” Jeonghan said while tying Seungcheol’s hands into a knot.

“ Now tell me who send you, because it is impossible for bandits to be this close to the capital. You must be sent by someone, come clean quickly.” Jeonghan said.

“ You, you little Omega why will you tie me up? And how will I talk if you do not even give your opponent any chance to talk? I have never seen an Omega this unruly like you.” Seungcheol replied back.

“ Yes, I am unruly, at least I am not a lawbreaker.” Jeonghan said.

“ Hyung, we have arrested those kidnappers, and…” Seokmin stopped in his tracks.

“ Oh my God Hyung, who would have thought that the all powerful Protector General would be tied up by a little Omega.” Seokmin bent over laughing at Seungcheol’s condition.

“ Seokmin, you…!” Seungcheol gritted his teeth.

“ You, now who are you? Are you an accomplice of this lawbreaking kidnapper? If you are  then be warned you cannot get rid of me that easily.” Jeonghan said with a sense of conviction in his voice.

“ No, no sorry for the misunderstanding young master. This is Protector General Choi Seungcheol, I am his Deputy Commander Lee Seokmin. We are here after hearing about your kidnapping from your attendant .” Seokmin said.

Jeonghan was shocked to hear Seokmin speak, he couldn’t believe that he tied up and used bone tenderizing powder on the Protector General Choi Seungcheol.

“ What! I am extremely sorry for my misconduct, may the Lord Protector be magnanimous and forgive this Omega.” Jeonghan said while bowing.

“ Now do you realize why you need to let people speak before you come upon any conclusion, little Omega? Seokmin free me. Also, call Wonwoo in and let him help young master Yoon.” Seungcheol said.

Jeonghan’s memory was transported back to the past and he thought about the Protector General’s fate in his last life.

The Past

The Duke of North’s family was heavily dependent on Choi Seungcheol.  Seungcheol’s grandfather Choi Jun-Seo had only a legitimate son and a daughter from his legal wife. Choi Ho-Jin and Choi Haeun. He had two other sons from his concubine, Choi Hwan and Choi Sungho.

However, only Seungcheol’s father, Ho-Jin, inherited his talent for the military; neither of his sons had any prominent talent. Thus this first household of Choi holds all the power in the Duke of North’s mansion. This bothered the other two households a lot.

So when both Seungcheol’s grandfather and father both passed away in the war, both the household tried really hard to make sure that the Patriarch was on their side but even at fifteen years old Seungcheol was more capable than his uncles, and their plans failed and Seungcheol became the Duke of North at the young age of fifteen.

The third household’s master was Choi Sungho Sungcheol’syoungest uncle after losing the battle for the patriarch position he quickly changed his stance and supported the first household, but the Second household led by Choi Hwan never forgot this humiliation but they had to pretend and gave a face to the first household.

But when It had been evident Seungcheol would not get married they started hatching other plans, they made Seungcheol accept his nephew Jungil as his adopted son, they made everyone convinced with their pretension that they were truly worried about the legitimate Choi lineage and so Sungcheol was forced to accept him as his adopted son.

But Jungil was not like Sungcheol, his father and grandfather rather he was obnoxious and annoying and he loved to flaunt his status as the Choi heir.

Then fast forward to the battle of Guangmeng Pass, Jungil colluded with the enemy for his own gain, and the respected Protector General and Duke of North Choi Seungcheol died in the battleground, Choi Army was absolved. It was impossible for the enemy to win against Seungcheol, they only won because of betrayal by their own people and Seungcheol died because of poisoning. In the thirtieth year of Jing De, Duke of North and Protector General Choi Seungcheol passed away.

Prince of Dingbei rose in rebellion, the loyalist Choi family of generation under Jungil’s leadership colluded with him and the Emperor himself lost his life Prince of Dingbei sat on the Imperial throne and Choi Jungil’s power skyrocketed, he disregarded the founding families, schemed against loyal ministers, in this struggle the Duke of South’s mansion and his family was ruined and Jeonghan died in the second year of Jian Shu.

Jeonghan’s thoughts were interrupted by a voice calling out to him.

“ Young master Yoon, please come with me, your carriage has been repaired and a coachman was found, we will escort you to your destination.” Said a quiet-looking Omega with the scent of old book pages and grass.

Jeonghan looked confused by the presence of this Omega and looked at him with confusion.

Noticing the confusion in the Peach blossom and vanilla, Wonwoo replied,

“ I am Jeon Wonwoo, the Military strategist, please do not worry Young Master Yoon.”

“ Thanking the General for his kindness, but this one has to refuse as I have to attend the Ancestral worshipping ceremony and it is inconvenient for the General to accompany me, lest any rumors get created. I hope you can clear this matter  Lord Strategist.” Jeonghan said.

“ I understand, I will clear this matter with the General,” Wonwoo replied.

As an Omega Wonwoo clearly understood what Jeonghan was insisting, if he gets accompanied by the General’s mansion and someone learns of his kidnapping, there are bound to be all sorts of rumors to appear tomorrow in the capital, and for an Omega one of the most important thing is chastity and virtue.

“ Seungkwan, let us depart quickly,” Jeonghan said.

“ Hyung, you are back, are you ok? We were really worried for you.” Seungkwan said with a sigh of relief.

“ Yes, I am unharmed kwanie, do not fret,” Jeonghan replied.

“ Hyung we were really worried, I wanted to find you, but the General’smen said, it is better to wait for you, I am glad you are fine,” Mingyu said with a pout.

“ Do not worry Mingoo, hyung will always come back to you,” Jeonghan said while rubbing his hands to Mingyu’s scent gland, soon the carriage was filled with the comforting and content scent of Cinnamon and brown sugar.

Soon Jeonghan hugged Seungkwan too and the carriage was filled with the blends of content scents of Peach Blossom, soft vanilla, Cinnamon, brown sugar, and Fresh Berries and Chamomile.

“ But do remember we have to keep the matter of the kidnapping a secret, understand?” Jeonghan asked the other two. The two younger replied with shaking heads.

“ Wonwoo, you let them go by themselves?” Seokmin asked.

“ I have my own reason, they will be fine, Young master Yoon himself requested this. As an Omega from a nobleborn family his chastity and virtue are very important, any rumours would harm him understood?” Wonwoo said.

“ You have done a great thing, Wonwoo, now let us resume our journey Seungcheol said.

Soon the Choi Army was on its way to the capital.

Jeonghan’s carriage soon reached the ancestral Yoon property.

“ Jeonghan are you ok? What happened, why are you late?” asked Jeonghan’s father Duke Kim.

“ Forgive this one for his late arrival, our carriage was stuck into some mud and then the wheel got ruined. The coachman had to repair it so it took some time.” Jeonghan said with a polite bow.

“ I understand. Now prepare quickly we do not have much time.” Said Duke Kim.

Quickly Lady Lee and Jihoon arrived with concerned faces.

“  Are you fine hyung?” asked Jihoon.

“I wanted to know that too Young master.” Said, Lady Lee.

“ I am fine Jihoonie and Lady Lee, now let us prepare for the ceremony,” Jeonghan said.

Then it was an auspicious moment for the ancestor's worshipping. The ceremony was led by a Taoist master. First Duke Kim took the ceremonial broom and swept across the tombs. Then followed by his heir Mingyu, Jeonghan his firstborn, Jihoon, then Lady Lee swept the tombs. After that Lord Kim led them to the ancestral hall offering incense and ceremonial offerings followed by the others. Finally, all of them bowed three times in the direction of the Ancestral tablets.

The ceremony was then completed. They had to observe some rituals such as consuming only vegetarian foods. They consumed the meal prepared specially for this day. The next day at daybreak they once again offered incense to the ancestors. Soon they departed for the mansion.

Chapter Text

Jeonghan realized if he wanted to stay safe he needed protection, without it things like this might keep happening. He asked Nanny Zhou to inquire about places where he could acquire some personal guards. Aunt Zhou arrived with information regarding this matter.

“Young Master I have inquired around, there is going to be a slave auction in the afternoon, I know you have said you don’t want to use the slave trading system, but this might be the best idea because other guards might not be that trusted…” Aunt Zhou said.

“Well then, we have to go visit the auction market today, if this is the best option.” Jeonghan sighed.

“Young Master look at the brighter side, even if you purchase someone, I am sure they will be treated better here than in any other place. You can think of it as rescuing someone.” Aunt Zhou tried reassuring Jeonghan.

Jeonghan never liked the system of bonded slavery, to him it felt like using someone’s service without their wishes. But at this moment this seemed to be the best option.

Slave auction house

The slave auction house was situated at the West Market, the place was filled with people from all over the capital. Nanny Zhou joined Jeonghan. Jeonghan covered his face with a veil to protect his identity. The traders often kidnapped people from the surrounding nations, sometimes some people were sold by their families for a few pennies, and they were also victims of war.

                              Jeonghan knew what kind of person he wanted as his guard and he was browsing the market when his eyes accidentally drifted to one of the counters, where he saw a lot of foreigners, some of them looked way too young to be there, he felt uncomfortable but suddenly his eyes looked at two boys who were huddling each other. One of them looked a bit older, but both of them had a stubborn look in their eyes which impressed him. He motioned to Nanny Zhou to ask the trader about them.

“ What do these two boys know? What skills do they have?“ Nanny Zhou asked the burly man.

“These two runts are not suitable for housework madam, these two can fight though, they know.

Martial art, they were brought from one of the villages further west, they lost their family in famine, if you want to buy them give me two silver tael for each of them.” The man said. Jeonghan motioned to nanny Zhou that he wanted to have them as his personal guards.

“Here have the four taels, pass on the indenture.” Nanny Zhou instructed.

Soon the process of getting the personal guard was solved and they left the West market. Jeonghan removed his veil. He wanted to ask the two boys their names but he noticed some fierceness in one of their faces. He softened his voice as much as possible and softly asked them, “Hello I am Yoon Jeonghan, what are your names?”

The shorter of the boys snarled at him, and Nanny Zhou slightly trembled to see his attitude.

“Young Master, was it the right decision to get them? This one has some manners, but the other one lacks it truly.” Nanny Zhou said while motioning towards the taller and quieter boy.

The other boy tried to snarl once again. But the taller boy quickly stopped himself and introduced them. “Forgive us, master, HaoHao is just scared, he is worried about a new master, forgive us for any transgression. I am Wen Junhui and he is Xu Minghao.” The boy said. There was a slight accent in his speech, which confirmed his origins.

“ Tell about your second gender, age, and qualification to the young master, he is your employee, and don’t worry he will not do anything bad, he is kind to everyone.” Nanny Zhou said.

“ I am an Omega and HaoHao is a Beta. I am fourteen years old and he is thirteen years old, we both are good at martial arts, we can be of use master.” Junhui said.

“ I know you guys are capable, I want two people as my guards, do you think you can do this job well?” Jeonghan asked.

“ Yes, yes we can do this job young master,” Junhui said while bowing.

Minghao looked anxious but he too nodded, soon these two started working as Jeonghan’s guards. Minghao was apprehensive at first but as time went by he too became trusted by Jeonghan. After a few months, Jeonghan decided to learn a few moves to defend himself in case of an emergency. Junhui taught him with a lot of kindness and understanding, even Minghao though grumpy joined these sessions and helped Junhui out in teaching Jeonghan.

As time went by these two newcomers started warming up slowly, they confessed that previously Junhui was beaten by their previous master even at the slightest mistake and Minghao became fierce and distrustful of people. But through the warm behavior of the people in the Duke’s mansion, they warmed up and quickly became two of the most trusted people for Jeonghan.

Jeonghan kept on taking care of the household with grace and competence, but he did not limit himself to the backyard of the Southern Duke’s mansion, he took care of the shops under his and his mother’s name. Around the first few months, he struggled to maintain everything with poise and strength. But once he got the hang of it there was no looking back, it all went smooth sailing.

Soon time passed by and it had already been five years since he came back to the past. So many things were different this time around. Jeonghan still had not lost his mother, and the scheming woman Sung Dahee was still unable to enter the household. He still had not met Jungil and he intended for it to stay this way. Jeonghan had acquired a lot of shops across the capital and other important cities, Jeonghan’s Bamboo Pavilion had spread its roots all throughout the country. Evan his father Lord Kim had to give face to him. Nobody can ignore the significant influence that Jeonghan commanded. Not only was he the firstborn of Duke Kim, the maternal grandson of Duke Yoon, but he also was the owner of Bamboo Pavilion.

“Hyung would it be a good idea to purchase this coal, wool, dry grains, and rice in this bulk quantity?” Seungkwan asked.

“Yes, hyung I am confused too about this,” Junhui said. Junhui and Minghao like Seungkwan addressed Jeonghan as Hyung.

“Well, hyung it is going to be a long time before the winter arrives why do you need to buy all this in bulk?” Minghao asked with a confused expression.

“You guys don’t understand I have looked at the stars, we would need these things soon. Just wait and bide your time, we will reap huge benefits from these things.” Jeonghan said.

“Whatever, when can you even learn to read the stars?” Minghao said with an eyeroll.

“HaoHao don’t say that we know how good hyung is at making decisions, he definitely knows about something.” The quiet Junhui said.

“Yes, yes hyung we would do as you say.” Seungkwan said.

Jeonghan knew why he needed to acquire these things, but he couldn’t say this out loud. He remembered from the past during the twenty-seventh year of Jing De the country would be struck by a very early winter. Thousands of people lost their lives because of this reason, and no shop was prepared for it, even if the capital was struck by devastating famines, they would truly need these things. This would greatly be of benefit to him.

Jeonghan’s shops acquired coal, wool, dry gains, and rice in huge quantities. Soon it seemed like Jeonghan truly knew how the heavens thought because right after the seventh month passed there was immediate news coming from the north that there was a sudden spell of heavy rainfall. Soon the heavy rainfall was replaced by heavy snowfall. In just a week in the eighth month, the capital was covered with a thick layer of snow.

Seungkwan, Junhui, and Minghao were shocked to see that Jeonghan’s idea would truly work. Jeonghan’s shops started to sell all the pre-acquired items and obtained huge profits. But soon there was a famine-like situation happening in the capital, the government requested the rich to help out the poor, but how many even truly cared for the common people of the country, they were busy caring for their own selves nobody had anything to spare for the unfortunate people.

This was the moment when Jeonghan stood up to help the common people, he volunteered to distribute porridge to everybody for the common people, the nobles who bought from his shops were requested to help out in this pursuit of noble activities.

Through the efforts of the Imperial Court and others, the situation was quickly put under control. Jeonghan played a significant part in helping the common people. Thus the Imperial Court decided to bestow him with a noble title.

Jeonghan was busy talking with Mingyu about his studies, Mingyu was now seventeen years old and he was studying in the Imperial Academy. He was telling Jeonghan about the friends he had made in the academy.

“Hyung, I have made friends with Hansol, he is the nephew of Duke Choi. He invited me to visit him in the General’s camp, I was wondering if I can go play with him?” Mingyu asked Jeonghan.

Times might have passed five years but Mingyu was the same puppy like Alpha brother of Jeonghan.

“Yes, why not, go play with him? Also don’t forget to bring some gifts for them it would not look good to go visit the General’s nephew without any gifts.” Jeonghan said with a soft smile.

Suddenly they were interrupted by Seungkwan.

“Hyung, there is a royal announcement of some sort we have to gather at the front yard,” Seungkwan said with a sense of anxiousness.

Soon, the people of the Duke’s mansion gathered together in the front yard, where everyone bowed in respect to the Emperor’s name. Then the Eunuch started to read out the Imperial decree.

“Let it be known, in the face of disasters, Yoon Jeonghan, born of noble blood yet guided by great virtue opened their coffers and business to care for the realm and its suffering. Through wisdom in commerce and mercy in action, they stood up for the common people.

For this greatest devotion, We, by Heaven’s Mandate, bestow upon him the title of Marquis of Benevolent Trade.”

Jeonghan quickly bowed once again and accepted the decree gracefully.

Everyone was overjoyed at this happy news, even Duke Kim couldn’t help but congratulate his son.

“Jeonghan you have done great, keep on upholding the name of this household.” Duke Kim said.

“Thanking Father, Jeonghan will keep your valuable instructions in mind,” Jeonghan said while bowing.

Before they can even plan something more suddenly another Eunuch arrives in the mansion.

“Marquis, the Empress Dowager requested for your visit at her palace. Please come with me quickly.” The Eunuch said.

Jeonghan and Seungkwan quickly prepared themselves to visit and pay respect to the Empress Dowager.

Chapter Text

When Jeonghan arrived at the palace with Seungkwan, the attending eunuch informed them to wait outside the empress dowager’s Palace of Heavenly Tranquility.

“Marquis Yoon please wait for some time, I will inform the empress dowager about your arrival.” The eunuch said.

“No worries, we will wait here,” Jeonghan replied.

After a while, they are called inside the Dowager Empress’s private tea pavilion inside the imperial garden. The garden was full of plum blossoms, beside the pavilion lay a carefully maintained pond where red koi fishes swam gracefully beneath the red-lacquered bridge. There was a distant sound of guqin coming from the palace beyond.

Jeonghan was dressed in robes of periwinkle blue, embroidered at the hem with white peonies and silver threaded butterflies. Seungkwan was dressed in a light shade of apricot robes with orchids decorating the hems. Both of them dressed with care, nothing too bold to offend the court rules, but also in something that showed care.

As they approached closer, one of the Empress Dowager’s attendants ushered them inside. Both of them bowed in respect. Inside the Empress Dowager sat upon a raised seat, her robes of red shrouded in a faint, sunlit haze, her silver hair braided with pearls and valuable ornaments. She didn’t look stern, rather her eyes held years of useful wisdom.

“So, you are Yoon Jeonghan the one who has helped people in dire need.” She said.

“Rise now, come closer. Let me see what kind of mind can turn the tides that easily.”

Jeonghan bowed low, then straightened with grace and replied,

“This humble one pays his respect to the Dowager Empress, may you live a thousand years safely. Thanking Your Majesty for your praise, but this one only did what he could to help the suffering people, I am undeserving of such high praise from Your Majesty.”

The empress Dowager’s lips curved silently in recognition. “Silk may be soft, but it binds the realm. A merchant’s thread outlasts a general’s sword.” She gestured to a cushioned seat across from her, “Sit down, have some tea.”

As they were sipping their tea, the Empress Dowager lifted her sleeve to reveal the embroidery at the hem, it was of a phoenix pattern.

“Your design?” she asked.

Jeonghan lowered his eyes and nodded. “We revived this from some of the left behind samples of the previous dynasty. This motif symbolizes the phoenix rising from its adversity.”

The Empress Dowager’s gaze sharpened. “Truly fitting. You run a business in a world where Omegas are barred from taking major decisions in life, yet as an Omega you run a business which helped out those same people who curtail the freedom of Omegas.”

There was a soft pause. Then she continued softly, “Tell me, child, did you turn to business because power was denied to you?”

Jeonghan raised his eyes, “Power may shut doors but it also opens new doors. Through my work, I find things that I may have never achieved; dignity, creativity, and a voice. Isn’t this also a kind of power on its own?”

“Well said. You remind me of myself, as a young child,” she said with a thoughtful voice.

Then they both fell into a comfortable silence broken only by the breeze and rustle of silk. Then the Empress Dowager reached into a lacquered box nearby and took out a jade bangle with cloud motifs.

“This belonged to me once as a young maiden. Take it as a token of appreciation for your bravery.”

Jeonghan accepted it with both hands, bowing low.

“This one is deeply honored for Your Majesty’s care. I will not let your care down.”

“They will underestimate you, let them but remember, in a court of thunder, it is the quiet silk which wraps the throne.” The Empress Dowager said while leaning back with half-closed eyes.

Jeonghan held the Jade bangle in his lap, the cool weight of it settling between his palms, though the meaning behind it was far heavier. Across from him, the Empress Dowager watched not only with affection but also with something more; regard. She tapped an elegant finger against the rim of her teacup.

“You speak like few do and you see the world as it truly is, unclouded by judgment.” She paused, eyes gleaming, “Not only will you be able to survive in the court… but you might as well shape it.”

Jeonghan replied with a polite smile, lowering his gaze; “Your Majesty bestows upon me compliments far more than I deserve.”

She waved her hands gently.

“No, I speak only if one has potential, I do not want to see it being wasted.” She folded her hands, her voice firm, she asked him, “Tell me something young master Yoon, do you have a marriage agreement? Have you considered marriage?”

Jeonghan paused, “I… have not given it much thought and I do not have a marriage agreement at this moment, Your Majesty.”

The Dowager’s smile deepened, her eyes filled with something that seemed like a plan.

“Great. Then let me offer a proposal to you.” She leaned a bit, “My third son, Prince of Beiping, Hyungwon, is not the emperor, nor does wish to be one. He is a scholar of fine character, but what he lacks is ambition. He needs someone by his side to guide him. He would not clip your wings, you would have your freedom, but in return, you would stay by his side.”

There was a long silence. Then, Jeonghan spoke up slowly, “May I be allowed to speak freely, Your Majesty?”

“Of course, be frank.” She said.

“I do not consider myself to fit to wear such a crown, I consider myself simple, I fear my light would turn dull in the palace,” Jeongahan said.

The Empress Dowager kept listening to him.

“Then let him walk in your light, you weave, he protects. Consider my proposal there is nothing to lose.”

Jeonghan met her gaze, “And what if I refuse?”

“Then you will leave here with my favor and my bangle. But you might regret refusing this opportunity. Fear not I will not hold it against you, nor will I hold it against your Bamboo Pavilion. You will still hold my care.” The Empress Dowager said with a chuckle.

“Then I will need some time to tell Your Majesty my decision, and we also have to consider Prince of Beiping’s opinion,” Jeonghan said.

“Well then, I will leave it up to fate. Let Hyungwon prove himself to you.” The Dowager said with a smile.

Both of them fell into a comfortable silence. After a while, the Empress Dowager asked Jeonghan,

“I have heard that your mother Lady Yoon has been sick for a long time, I would like to send imperial physician Tan to check on her. Maybe she can identify Lady Yoon’s sickness.”

Jeonghan stood up and bowed deeply in gratitude, “Thanking Your Majesty for this kindness, this one would forever be grateful for your care, Your Majesty.”

“No worries, now go along, I will send physician Tan to the Duke’s Mansion.” The Empress Dowager said.

After meeting the Empress Dowager Jeonghan and Seungkwan were in their carriage leaving for the household. Seungkwan asked Jeonghan, “Hyung will you accept the Dowager Empress’s proposal? I also wonder why she would decide to matchmake you and her son.”

“Who knows why she decided to do that? But I am grateful to her because she will be sending imperial physician Tan to the household. And about the marriage… I never wished to marry someone but maybe marrying him will not be a wrong idea. Whatever it is I will wait until eomma wakes up, without her I will not decide upon anything.” Jeonghan said while taking a bite out of an apple Seungkwan prepared for him beforehand.

A few Days Later

Jeonghan was busy overseeing the accounts of the shops when a beta servant announced that Imperial Physician Tan had arrived. Jeonghan quickly went out to receive her. Imperial Physician Tan was a Beta woman in her late forties. She was known all throughout the country for her capabilities, she came from a family of healers. She was particularly respected by Omegas for she listened to them and tried diagnosing according to their problems, whereas other Alpha doctors barely paid any attention to Omega patients. They could care less about the Omegas, or any problems they attributed to Omega hormones, and never took Omega patients seriously.

Physician Tan was welcomed by Jeonghan, “Welcoming the Imperial Physician. Requesting her to come into my mother’s room.” 

They arrived in a spacious room in the eastern wing of the Southern Duke’s mansion. The air is heavy with the scent of sandalwood. A silk screen flutters in the breeze as the imperial physician finishes her pulse diagnosis of Lady Yoon, who lies unconscious on a carved mahogany bed motionless for five years.

Imperial Physician Tan rises slowly from Madam Yoon’s bedside, her expression grim. Jeonghan sat beside his mother gripping his robes tightly.

Jeonghan’s voice trembled when he spoke up,

"Physician Tan tell me what ailment has imprisoned my mother in her bed for all this year?"

Imperial Physician Tan replied, "Lord Yoon, your mother’s condition is neither natural nor born of an inner imbalance. After extensive pulse diagnosis and examination of her qi, I have concluded that Madam Yoon was poisoned. Subtly, and over time."

Seungkwan’s shocked voice came, “Poison? Who… how?”

Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed, he drew in a sharp breath and asked, "Who would dare to poison my mother under our roof? And what sort of poison could keep her alive yet in such a state?"

The Imperial Physician looked at the subtle light emitting from the lamp. "A rare brew known as 'Ghost Silk Powder.' It clouds the meridians and dulls the spirit, mimicking death without claiming life. The poison settles in the blood and accumulates in the heart over time."

Listening to the physician he quickly realized that it was no surprise that his Eomma fell sick, he knew for sure that Sung Dahee had a hand in it.

Jeonghan trembled, "Is there a cure?"

The Imperial Physician Tan nodded slowly, "There is… though it is perilous and will require utmost precision."

The Imperial Physician asked for a brush and paper, and while writing down the prescription he kept mentioning what was needed to cure Madam Yoon.

 “You need to prepare a daily decoction of Baikal skullcap, and red sage to promote blood circulation and detoxify. There is also a need to apply acupuncture at certain time intervals to regulate the blood and qi. There is also the rare antidote Snow Jade Lotus Extract to neutralize the latent poison.

Physician Tan stopped for a moment and continued, “We also need to do weekly moxibustion therapy to strengthen the heart. We also need to prepare some tonic like Ginseng, and Ling Zhi to rebuild depleted qi and essence.”

“Do what you need to do but please cure my mother,” Jeonghan said with determination in his eyes.

Physician Tan admired Jeonghan’s resolve. "Young master Yoon, your filial piety shines brighter than jade. I shall remain by her side until she wakes."

Physician Tan put a lot of effort into Madam Yoon’s treatment, it had been already one month after she started the treatment. Madam Yoon Boram showed a great response to the treatment. It was already autumn there were few days left for Jeonghan’s birthday to arrive. Physician Tan was busy applying acupuncture on Madam Yoon when suddenly Madam Yoon started moving and slowly she opened her eyes.

Imperial Physician Tan was overjoyed at Madam Yoon’s condition, and she sent out a servant to inform Jeonghan of his mother’s wake.

Madam Yoon was a bit disoriented after waking up, Physician Tan quickly helped her to sit up.

Madam Yoon looked around and noticed that she was in her room, but there was a smell of medicinal herbs permitting the place. She tried to speak but her throat felt dry and she was unable to speak and a hoarse sound came out from her neck.

“Madam, do not stress your voice, I am Physician Tan, I was looking after your treatment, have some water…here.” Physician Tan handed her a cup of water to soothe herself.

After drinking the water Madam Yoon asked Physician Tan carefully, “What happened to me, doctor?”

“Madam fret not you are well now, but you had been… poisoned.” Physician Tan said carefully.

As they were talking suddenly Jeonghan arrived in the room and quickly hugged Madam Yoon tightly, soon Jeonghan was smothered by the smell of musk and amber, he took a strong whiff of his mother’s comforting scent.

Madam Yoon softly hugged her son and then lifted up Jeonghan’s face, his face was familiar yet unfamiliar. She softly called out, “Hannie… Hannie, are you well my sweet?”

Hearing his mother’s voice after five long years Jeonghan was overcome with emotion, he hugged his mother tightly. “Yes Eomma, Hannie is well, I missed you a ton. It has been five years since I have not heard your voice.”

Hearing her son Madam Yoon Boram was shocked, she couldn’t believe her ears that five years had passed.

“Hannie, has it truly been five years?” Madam Yoon couldn’t help but wonder.

Jeonghan sat up straight and confirmed his mother’s suspicion, “Yes Eomma it has been five years, we have to thank Physician Tan over here, without her help we would have been unable to find your sickness. She carefully diagnosed your poisoning and has been working tirelessly for the last month caring for you.” He motioned towards physician Tan who was standing beside Madam Yoon’s bed.

“You give me undue credit young master, I only did what any physician would have done. Helping my patient is my duty, I am glad I can cure Madam Yoon from her ailment.” Physician Tan said while bowing her hand.

“Thanking Physician Tan from my side for your care this month.” Lady Yoon said.

“I will let you mother and son catch up, I will prescribe some tonics for quick restoration of your health, I will leave it to your nanny young master Yoon.” Imperial Physician Tan bowed and left the room.

After Imperial Physician Tan left the room Jeonghan told his mother, “Eomma let me tell you what happened when you were ill.”

Jeonghan started recollecting the events of the last five years to his mother. Madam Yoon was surprised to see her sweet little Jeonghan take control in such a way and even be able to establish his own shop.

“I am so proud of you Hanie, my angel; you strived to achieve the best even when I was not there to support or help you.” Madam Yoon sighed.

“Eomma I just did what I felt you would want to see me doing,” Jeonghan replied.

Sometimes later

It was the fourth day in the tenth month, it was Jeonghan’s birthday. The moon hung low, heavy with the scent of blooming Begonias and Osmanthuses. A veil of mist clung to the Duke’s mansion, wrapping the red-lacquered corridors in silence. Somewhere in the distance, a zither string hummed once before snapping, an omen, perhaps.

Inside the secluded Magnolia Pavilion, Jeonghan knelt by the moonlit window, breath shallow, fingers trembling as he clutched the zither strings damp with sweat. The candlelight danced across his skin, highlighting a flush creeping up to his face.

“Why now… of all times?” Jeonghan wondered.

His body burned, not with fever, but with something, deeper, something more passionate. There was a primitive need rising through his spine and settling in his stomach. His breath quickened, and he felt his heart thrumming in his chest with a sense of primordial want. Jeonghan curled into himself, robes of silk twisting like water between his legs. Suddenly layers upon layers of scents to the minutest detail started invading his sensory space.

From behind the silk screens, Seungkwan’s cautious timid voice called out, “Hyung, shall I call for a physician?”

“No.”

A pause. Then, he said softly, “No, do not let anyone enter.”

Seungkwan’s comforting Fresh Berry and Chamomile calmed Jeonghan down a bit. He pressed a trembling hand to the cold hard floor. His mind was racing at this moment. He knew that Omegas got their first heat during their twentieth birthday, even then he was truly unprepared for it. In the last life, he never got the chance to experience his first heat, so he truly was unprepared. His hands trembled with fear, duty and most of all a sense of primal desire.

 Jeonghan felt as if time had stopped, he crawled towards the bed, his limbs heavy. Every brush of clothing on his skin felt too much, too intimate.

“I must not… surrender to this.”

To control himself Jeonghan bit inside his cheek until the taste metallic taste of blood coated his lips. Even in pain, his mind was hazy with desire. No amount of distraction could lessen the instincts that channeled through his veins like a river. Outside the bell for the second part of the night rang then quieted down.

Alone in that still night, Jeonghan pressed his body to the carved headboard. His long, black, silky hair was unbound and clung to his neck and temples. In a desperate attempt to control his instincts, he forced himself to chant the verses he heard the monks chant in the temple but no amount of chanting can stop him from desiring for something that was not there.

Tears rolled out from his eyes, with pain, with want and desire for an ancient longing. His mind was filled with the conflict of wanting someone to touch him but also with wonder if after this he would ever be looked at not as a vessel but as someone who breathes, dreams, and feels.

“Will I always be ruled by this?”

But there was no one there to answer him.

His fingers dug into the embroidered cushions, nails making half-moon patterns, he rode through the waves of heat, curling into himself.

Hours passed, maybe even days, but the heat did not come to an end easily, leaving him hollow, his skin felt tender and vulnerable. He could not call for anyone. In the stillness of his room, he endured his heat alone.

He found simple congee and water at intervals in his room he filled his hungry stomach with that simple food and preserved his energy to continue his heat.

By the time the final wave passed, sunlight peeked through the gauze curtains, marking the room in a pale yellow glow. His skin was sticky, and cold, lips dry. He felt exhausted. He rose unsteadily.

“It did not break me,” he whispered looking at his reflection in the bronze mirror.

The wind shifted, bringing with it the scent of morning lotus from the garden pond.

Jeonghan’s presentation lasted around three days. During this time nobody went to him in fear of confusing him during his heat. It has passed now the others arrived to meet him.

Madam Yoon was the first one to arrive, she was worried for her angel but as an Alpha, she avoided him during this time in fear of confusing Jeonghan and intimidating him for his first heat.

“Hannie, my sweet darling are you fine eomma missed you jagi.”

“I am well eomma, I missed you too.”

“I am glad to hear that your heat went well aegi, you are now officially an adult, congratulations aegi. I have told the kitchen to prepare some tonics and nutritious meals for you so you revive quickly.”

“Thank you eomma for caring for me,” Jeonghan said.

“Who will I care for, if not my aegi.” Madam Yoon replied.

As they were conversing, a maid entered the room and announced Lady Lee’s arrival.

“Congratulating the Young Master on his successful presentation. I have brought a hundred-year-old Ginseng for you so you can recover well.” Lady Lee said.

“Thanking Lady Lee for this kindness,” Jeonghan replied.

At the afternoon

Jeonghan was joined by Jisoo, Jihoon, Mingyu, Seungkwan, Minghao and Junhui.

They were sitting in the Peony courtyard having tea. A soft, cool afternoon breeze blew through the garden. The garden was filled with the blooms and smells of Magnolia, Begonia, and Osmanthus creating a comfortable environment. Songbirds cooed softly and the koi fishes in the carefully maintained pond were playing in it.

Seungkwan was the first one to break the silence. “Hyung, are you fine now? I was worried when you said not to call for a physician, but Hao hyung told me that this was your first heat so you shouldn’t be disturbed. I was worried for you.”

“Yes, you naive child you only have two more years before your first heat even now you are not well aware of heat, what would happen when it comes?” Minghao grumbled.

“HaoHao don’t scold Kwanie, he still has some time before it arrives,” Junhui the ever-calm omega replied.

“Hyung should I consult my teacher for some supplement for you? I will ask her tomorrow.” Jihoon the quiet Omega mused.

Jihoon was studying medicine under Imperial Physician Tan when she was treating Madam Yoon, he helped her in the treatment process and it built a special kind of interest in him regarding medicine. When he asked her if she would take him as an apprentice, she gladly took him in as a disciple. She told Jeonghan, “Your younger brother truly has an in-built talent for medicine, I would be glad to have him as a disciple.” From then on he is studying under her.

“No need to bother physician Tan with this matter, Jihoon-ah, I am well and don’t need any supplements,” Jeonghan assured him.

“Do not listen to his words Jihoon hyung, he needs the supplement.” Minghao and Junhui spoke up at the same time.

“I agree, Hyung never cares about himself, he is busy taking care of everyone but not the most important person his own self,” Seungkwan said.

“Yes, Jihoon Hyung brings some supplements for Hanie hyung,” Mingyu said.

“Hanie, I agree you need to take more care of yourself. Are you excited about your Hair Pin Ceremony?” Jisoo asked.

Mingyu was confused.

“Hair Pin Ceremony? What is that?”

“It is an important ritual where after an Omega gets their first heat they officially become an adult Omega and this change is marked with a ceremony where a respected elder ties up the Omega’s hair and adorning it with hair pins. Understood it puppy?”

Jeonghan teased Mingyu, the younger Alpha was shy and pouted at his Hyung.

Everyone joined in the teasing and kept teasing the young Alpha.

Jeonghan asked Seungkwan if anything specific happened in the shops during this time around, but he replied, “Nothing happened Hyung, everything is running smoothly.”

Jeonghan was relieved to hear this.

Hair Pin Ceremony

The Hair Pin Ceremony was a big deal for the noble families, they would often consult a master for an auspicious day. The Duke of South’s family was not behind in any of the preparations. They have invited various other noble families for this auspicious ceremony.

The Blooming Lotus Pavilion stood solemn beneath the autumnal sun, and smells of Begonias filled the surroundings. The pavilion was filled with nobles in silk and gold. It was the Hair Pin Ceremony of Yoon Jeonghan, Marquis of Benevolent Trade, the firstborn Omega of the Duke of South’s family.

All eyes were focused on the center, where Jeonghan knelt, robed in white. His hair fell in long black rivers, unbound, untouched, his eyes downcast, bare feet touching the cold floor, the scent of sandalwood and amber rising with the incense.

A hush falls over the gathered nobles as the Master of Rites rises. The drums stop. Incense curled around the pillars, the scent of sandalwood and amber heavy in the air.

“Yoon Jeonghan… Marquis of Benevolent Trade, firstborn of Duke Kim Dong-gun, do you come willingly to receive the mark of adulthood?”

Jeonghan lifted his chin, voice clear despite the weight of the ceremony. “I come willingly.”

A murmur ripples through the courtiers in embroidered robes and emissaries from other noble houses.

Choi Seungcheol of House of Choi was present along with his vice commander Dokyeom, he never imagined that the feral little kitten of Omega he met in the mountains was the same person. The Omega still had the same qualities in him when they first met each other but perhaps those emotions were a bit muted today. Seungcheol wondered why that was the case. But in a pavilion full of Alphas, that little Omega never let his quiet resolve leave him. Even at the strongest scent he never flinched, he stayed at his place unflinching.

A silk-clad attendant steps forward, holding a silver basin and a clean cloth. The Master of the Rites dips his hands into the water, then wipes his hands clean in the cloth.

The Master of Rites lifts up a headdress, three golden pins adorned with pearls. “This is the Binding Crown. Once placed, you are no longer a child.”

A sudden voice, calm and thunderous, rang out over the courtyard.

“Enough.”

Gasps swept through the pavilion like wind through grass. The Master of Rites froze mid-chant. Heads turned.

Behind the silk screen walked in the Imperial Guards dressed in midnight blue, then eight attendants and four eunuchs clad in green silk robes followed in, soon walked in Empress Dowager Li, clad in imperial purple and red robes embroidered with a phoenix leaping towards the sun in gold. A phoenix coronet made of jade and gold gathered her hair.

The Master of Rites stepped back with a bowed head, face pale. “Your Majesty…”

“Leave the rites to me, I would like to welcome the Marquis into adulthood.” Her calm and authoritative voice ran across the pavilion.

She moved towards Jeonghan, “Yoon Jeonghan, do you realize what it means to be coming of age right before my eyes?”

Jeonghan slowly raised his chin and met the Dowager’s gaze, “This one understands Your Majesty.”

“Then it is settled, with this ceremony you mark your presence in the world as an adult Omega.”

A heavy silence engulfed the pavilion.

The Empress Dowager motioned towards an attendant.

She brought forth a new binding crown far more elaborate than the earlier one. It gleamed with red jade and peony tassels made of gold. She took it into her own hands.

“Come forth Yoon Jeonghan of House Kim, with this headdress you enter adulthood.”

Three ornate pins were put into his hair one after another. With each pin, Jeonghan felt his life changing. All of the pins reminded Jeonghan about the responsibilities that he now carried.

Jeonghan looked up.

The moment Jeonghan looked up Seungcheol felt his heart getting caught in his throat. Those eyes held something that was eternal damnation for Seungcheol, he was sure for those eyes he could sacrifice his whole life. Seungcheol smelt a comfortable peach blossom and vanilla, it slipped past every defense he built for himself, it was unlike anything he encountered. The smell felt like a comforting memory, a warm hug in the hardest also his undoing it was something achingly familiar.

Chapter Text

At the Blooming Lotus Pavilion of Duke Kim’s estate, the hall opens into a moonlit courtyard. Silk banners dance gently from the intricately carved eaves, embellished with auspicious clouds and golden cranes. Lotus lanterns gracefully float on the tranquil water. The evening air is rich with the scent of agarwood incense and Begonias, while the soft strains of zither music drift from behind a painted screen.

Jeonghan is positioned in the center, adorned in a flowing robe of pale vermilion silk, trimmed with silver-threaded lotus designs. His hair is elegantly styled with a delicate coronet of jade pins and a trailing silk ribbon, symbolizing purity and transformation. Elders, scholars, and nobles are seated in their designated places, their cups filled with soju. Servants move quietly, replenishing porcelain bowls with exquisite appetizers like osmanthus flower cakes, walnut cakes, red bean cake, sesame balls, and shrimp dumplings.

Duke Kim Donggun stands from his seat. His blue robes, embroidered with a golden qilin, signify his seniority and position in the Imperial court. He clasps his hands together and speaks in a solemn tone, “Tonight, as the moon shines brightly upon our household, we gather to celebrate my eldest son Yoon Jeonghan’s presentation as an Omega. I thank everyone here for blessing my son.” The crowd bows in response, and a hush falls over the courtyard.

Jeonghan rises, hands folded respectfully. “Thank you, Abeoji. As a child, I learned to uphold my family’s name, and I hope to carry these teachings with steadiness. May I support the clan’s needs and remain gentle and composed in my demeanor.” The nobles present are surprised by his bold yet graceful demeanor. Some nod in approval. Duke Kim announces loudly, “Then let the banquet begin.”

Tables are set up in no time, and a variety of dishes are served. Foods like lotus root and pork soup, red-braised duck, liangpi, fish in vinegar sauce, mandoo dumplings, roasted duck, Mapo Tofu, xiaolongbao, wonton soup, almond Tofu, tangyuan, and chrysanthemum wine are all presented. Jeonghan takes small bites of his meal, his gaze drifting as he thoughtfully observes his surroundings.

The courtyard, adorned with red lanterns, was filled with the rich scent of incense, and low murmurs filled the atmosphere. Jeonghan was surrounded by friends and family. His father, Duke Kim, had already given him a jade pendant—a symbol of purity and strength, while his mother, Lady Yoon, had gifted him a scroll containing the wisdom of their ancestors. Now, Lady Li approached with gifts, presenting Jeonghan with a pair of high-quality bamboo calligraphy sets. “Thank you, Lady Li; I will value these sets,” Jeonghan said with a slight bow.

 Then Mingyu and Jihoon made their entrance. “Hyung, we weren’t sure what to give you, so we brought some books and this painting set,” Jihoon said. “I hope you enjoy these gifts, hyung,” Mingyu added.

 “Of course, I would love anything you two give me.” Jeonghan replied.

Then Hong Jisoo, from the Earl of Beimu’s household, arrived. Jeonghan and Jisoo had been friends since childhood. Jisoo had already given him a pouch of lavender and plum blossoms. He was always the one who brightened Jeonghan’s mood during serious times, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Hannie, I've been eagerly anticipating this moment," he chuckled, lifting a small sandalwood box embellished with detailed carvings in his hands. "I pondered for quite a while about what would be perfect for you, something that would bring you happiness."

Jeonghan arched an eyebrow. "What is this?"

 "Go ahead, open it," Jisoo encouraged.

 Jeonghan lifted the lid of the box to uncover a pair of exquisitely crafted gold earrings. Though small, they were delicate, designed in the form of a lotus flower inlaid with pearls.

"This is absolutely stunning, thank you so much, Jisoo. I love it," Jeonghan responded.

Just then, Seungkwan announced the arrival of Commandery Prince Hongjoong and Prince Consort Seonghwa. Prince Consort Seonghwa was Jeonghan's cousin on his mother's side. Their mothers were sisters, which forged a close bond between them, and as Omegas, their connection deepened over the years. They had shared a close relationship since childhood.

"Jeonghan," Seonghwa said gently, extending a small wooden fan. "This is for you. It belonged to our grandmother. It was part of a pair. She always believed it would find its rightful owner when the time was right. Now, we both possess one from that pair."

 Jeonghan took the fan with care; it was intricately carved with lotus flowers and cranes. As he opened it, the gentle rustle of the fan seemed to whisper wisdom.

Seonghwa spoke softly yet with conviction, saying, "The crane represents elegance, wisdom, and a long life. Whenever doubt creeps in, remember to act with intention, just like the crane that glides high above the clouds."

Jeonghan clutched the fan to his chest, feeling the gentle breeze sweep through the room like a soothing balm. "Thank you, Seonghwa. I will cherish this gift."

 Hongjoong stepped forward, offering Jeonghan a pair of books. "These are the Chronicles from the West. I learned from Hwa that you were interested in this series, so I got you this pair. I hope you enjoy it," Hongjoong remarked.

 "Thank you, brother-in-law. I will truly appreciate this gift," Jeonghan replied.

Next, Lee Yongbok arrived, hailing from the Lee family, his father led the Ministry of Revenue. Accompanying him was Hwang Hyunjin from the Hwang family, whose father was the head of the Ministry of Personnel. Both Omegas were close friends of Jeonghan.

Yongbok was a lively and outspoken companion, his laughter always ringing louder than the rest, his spirit as bright as the sun. He presented a small carved box adorned with crimson lacquer. "This may appear simple, Jeonghan hyung," Yongbok said, his smile fading slightly under the weight of the occasion. "But it’s something I chose with great care for you, and I hope you like it."

Jeonghan carefully picked up the box, feeling its weight in his hands. When he opened it, he found a black jade waist ornament inside.

Yongbok remarked, “I hope this jade pendant brings you peace when you are facing difficulties. I hope it is to your liking.”

 Jeonghan's eyes softened. “Thank you, Yongbok. This is a gift I will treasure, especially when the world feels overwhelming.”

Then Hyunjin stepped forward, his eyes calm and deep. He had always been observant and serene about the world around him. He presented Jeonghan with a small jade bangle, its delicate green color appearing to shift with the light.

“This jade,” Hyunjin said, his voice a soft whisper among the crowd, “is a gift of endurance. It is said to protect the wearer from harm, but more importantly, it strengthens the spirit. I hope this bangle can help shield you.”

 Jeonghan looked at the bracelet, his fingers brushing against its smooth surface. “Thank you, Hyunjin.”

 Jeonghan stood there, surrounded by the gifts and the love of those who care for him. His heart was full, and for the first time, he felt genuinely ready to face what lay ahead. Jeonghan bowed deeply, his voice rich with gratitude. “Thank you, everyone. I am truly blessed.” And with that, the banquet continued, alive with laughter and music.

Just as the atmosphere began to calm, the sound of footsteps reverberated from the entrance of the courtyard. Once again, Imperial attendants, eunuchs, and soldiers entered the space. A stillness fell over the room.

At the threshold stood Prince Hyungwon of Beiping, embodying grace and authority. His dark purple robes sparkled with silver embroidery depicting a dragon ascending into the sky. The prince's regal presence demanded immediate attention. The guests parted to allow him passage as he walked through the courtyard.

Hyungwon's eyes found Jeonghan's, causing Jeonghan to catch his breath.

 “Jeonghan,” the prince's smooth yet assertive voice sent a shiver down Jeonghan’s spine. “It is a true honor to be here tonight, celebrating your coming of age.” The prince's words carried significant weight, and his presence was undeniably commanding.

Hyungwon stepped closer, offering Jeonghan a gift. He presented a small, intricately carved ivory box. Inside, nestled on a bed of soft silk, was a cerulean pendant etched with cloud designs.

Overcome with emotion, Jeonghan accepted the pendant with a shaking hand, his gaze meeting the prince’s. “I... I thank Your Highness for this invaluable gift,” he whispered.

Just as everyone was settling in, a new presence filled the courtyard, and a commanding figure entered. Duke Choi Seungcheol, the kingdom’s most feared and respected military leader, strode into the hall with confidence. His broad shoulders, clad in armor of black and gold, stood in stark contrast to the prince's regal elegance. His sharp eyes scanned the courtyard, finally landing on Jeonghan.

 The general’s gaze softened as he met Jeonghan’s; Seungcheol’s stoic face didn’t reveal the emotions swirling beneath, but his heart, without a doubt, held a deeper connection to the omega standing before him.

“Marquis of Benevolent Trade,” Duke Choi’s deep voice resonated with authority as he approached Jeonghan. “Wishing you a joyous coming of age.”

Jeonghan’s breath caught in his throat, and for a fleeting moment, he was unsure of how to respond.

“You honor me, General,” Jeonghan said, bowing with respect. “It is an honor to have you here.”

Seungcheol nodded, his gaze flickering to the prince, then back to Jeonghan. His eyes softened slightly as he handed Jeonghan a gift—a beautifully crafted dagger. The hilt was made of dark wood, intricately engraved with lotus patterns, and the blade gleamed with a sharpness that spoke of both utility and elegance.

 “This dagger,” Seungcheol said quietly, “has been passed down through my family for generations. It is a symbol of protection and strength. I gift it to you, Marquis Yoon, as a reminder that I will always stand by your side, no matter the path you take.”

Jeonghan’s heart raced within his chest. The general’s words struck him in a way that the prince’s did not, there was a raw authenticity in them, a pledge of unwavering loyalty that resonated deep within him. He reached out to accept the dagger, his fingers lightly brushing against the general’s hand. That brief contact sent a thrill through him, one he quickly tried to suppress.

“Thank you, General,” Jeonghan said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “This gift means more to me than you can imagine.”

Before the weight of the moment could settle too heavily, the prince cleared his throat, his voice tinged with a subtle tension. “It seems we all wish to present our gifts to Lord Yoon tonight.”

Jeonghan’s eyes darted between the two men. The prince, poised and graceful, exuded a quiet charm, while the general, solid and commanding, spoke of protection and loyalty that transcended mere titles. The contrast between them was striking.

The room had fallen silent, the unspoken tension between the two men palpable. Guests exchanged knowing glances, sensing the intricate relationships unfolding before them.

The prince stepped closer to Jeonghan, his voice smooth but edged with a hint of challenge. “I trust you will wear my gift with pride, Jeonghan. It symbolizes our connection, one that I hope will continue to strengthen over time.”

 Seungcheol, never one for subtlety, didn’t waver. He nodded, his tone resolute. “A gift is only as valuable as the intent behind it. I hope my gift can protect you when you need it the most.”

Jeonghan found himself at the heart of the gathering, his chest constricted by the weight of their sentiments. Both the prince and the general had bestowed upon him tokens of their affection, each unique yet equally significant. As the banquet continued, the atmosphere remained thick with tension, palpable and undeniable. Jeonghan felt himself torn between two formidable forces—each one tugging him in opposing directions. Yet, in this moment, he was not required to choose. Not just yet. For now, the night belonged to him, a time to relish the love and loyalty of those who held him dear, and to bear the burden of the gifts, and the feelings, that had been placed in his care.

He had scarcely begun to process the offerings from the Prince and General when the evening took an unexpected turn. His mind was a chaotic jumble, each new look, each new gesture from either man left him uncertain about where his heart should reside.

But as his feelings swirled, a more insidious sensation began to creep in: the sharp, subtle presence of Yun Hayeon. Jeonghan had been acquainted with Yun Hayeon for many years. She was stunning, graceful, and perpetually enveloped in an air of innocence—yet anyone who had spent enough time in her company understood that her kindness was a meticulously crafted facade. And tonight, it appeared her mask had slipped just enough to unveil her true motives. She glided towards him with her characteristic light steps, her delicate silk gown glimmering like the moonlight, each movement both elegant and calculated.

Jeonghan," she initiated, her voice sweet and laced with false sympathy.

 "You’ve been so occupied tonight, with all these gifts and so much attention. It must be tiring, right?" Her eyes sparkled with mock concern, but there was a flicker of something sharper in her gaze.

 "You know, I’ve heard that when someone feels overwhelmed, music can be a great source of comfort. Maybe you should play for us."

Jeonghan faltered, his fingers twitching slightly at the mention of the guqin. "I’m not sure that’s a good idea," he murmured, trying to disengage from the conversation.

"Why not play for us, Jeonghan?" she pressed, her voice so sweet it could almost be mistaken for genuine concern.

 Yet, there was an edge to her tone—an underlying malice hidden behind her facade of innocence. She had maneuvered him into a corner, making it seem as though he had no choice but to perform.

The eyes of the room were already on him, eagerly awaiting the music to begin.

"Oh, but it would surely lighten your heart!" Yun Hayeon interrupted, her tone both coaxing and assertive.

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper that was meant for him alone.

 "After all, the guqin is such a personal instrument for you. It would be a shame not to share a piece of your soul with your friends, especially the prince and the general, wouldn’t it?" She paused, allowing the weight of her words to settle.

"You wouldn’t want to let them down, would you?"

 Her smile was one of innocence, but Jeonghan could see the sharp edges to her words, the way she pushed him into the center of the storm without a second thought.

She was playing on his emotions, manipulating him into a position where his refusal would seem rude, and his acceptance would lead to discomfort.

His stomach churned with anxiety, but before he could sort through his thoughts, Hayeon laughed lightly, a sound too sweet for the malice it concealed.

“Besides, I think the prince would be delighted to hear you play,” she said, her eyes darting to the tall figure of Prince Hyungwon, who stood across the room, watching them with an intensity that made Jeonghan’s heart race.

 “You know how much he loves the arts. And the general, well, he appreciates talent too.” Her smile was sugary, but her eyes sparkled with a wicked glint.

 Jeonghan could sense the manipulation in her words, as if she were setting him up for failure. The delicate, quivering notes of the guqin now felt like a snare, a challenge he was destined to fail in front of everyone. Despite the growing pressure, he couldn’t find a way out. If he refused, he would be seen as disrespectful, ungrateful.

Jeonghan felt his throat constrict. The guqin had always been a source of comfort, a refuge, but now it felt like a trap. He could feel the weight of the room shifting towards him, the expectation rising like an invisible tide. Every instinct screamed for him to refuse, to avoid the humiliation he sensed lurking just beneath the surface.

But Hayeon’s eyes were like daggers, glinting with cold calculation, and her voice echoed in his ears like a soft poison. “Don’t you want to show everyone how much you’ve improved?” she continued, as if every word was carefully crafted to make him doubt his own choices.

 “Your father would be so proud. You’ve been trained in such artistry, after all. It would be a shame to waste it.” The words were sharp and intentional, aimed at his sense of duty, his sense of honor.

 He had been raised to respect tradition, to be a dignified presence. She was forcing his hand, and he despised her for it.

“I’ll play,” he said, his voice tight with restraint, though every part of him wanted to refuse. He turned to the guqin with a forced smile, fully aware that he was walking right into her trap.

The hall became quiet. The music started. With a heavy sigh, Jeonghan sat down at the guqin, his fingers gliding over the polished wood. The atmosphere grew still as the guests focused their attention on him. He could feel the weight of countless eyes on him, each one silently judging. His fingers lingered on the strings, his thoughts swirling with uncertainty.

Just as he was about to start, a familiar voice broke the tense quiet. "Jeonghan," came the deep, authoritative voice of General Choi Seungcheol, who approached with slow, measured steps.

 His dark eyes were piercing and steady, yet there was a protective quality in his gaze. "I believe this performance is not solely for the guests," Seungcheol stated, his tone firm yet soothing.

 "It is also for the one who carries the music within their soul."

Jeonghan blinked, sensing the tension in his chest begin to ease.

The general’s presence had a grounding effect on him, and more importantly, there was a warmth in his eyes, something that made Jeonghan feel less isolated. For a fleeting moment, it felt as if the burdens of the evening had been lifted by the sheer strength of the general’s gaze.

Seungcheol nodded slightly, and with a purposeful stride, he moved to the center of the room, wielding his sword with effortless elegance. The room responded to his movement. But this time, there was no hostility in his stance—no provocation. His presence radiated calm and protection.

With a fluid motion, Choi Seungcheol unsheathed his sword, prompting the guests to collectively hold their breath. However, instead of a conventional display of might, Seungcheol commenced a slower, more intentional sword dance, each movement precise and graceful, an art form that echoed the delicate, flowing music of the guqin. The blade glided through the air like a ribbon of steel, slicing through the space between them with mesmerizing elegance.

  As his sword danced, Seungcheol’s attention remained on Jeonghan, as if he were conducting the melody with his movements, offering him a silent reassurance. It was a protective exhibition, one that shielded him from the room's scrutiny and, most importantly, from Hayeon’s subtle cruelty. The delicate grace of the sword in the general’s hands softened the room's harshness, making the air feel lighter.

 Then, from the edge of the room, the soft notes of a flute joined the performance. Jeonghan’s heart fluttered as he recognized the unmistakable sound of Prince Hyungwon’s flute. The prince had always been a master of subtlety, and now, his music floated through the air like a gentle, enchanting breeze, wrapping itself around the sword dance and the guqin’s mournful notes.

Hyungwon, standing near the door, his figure as elegant as ever, played with an effortless grace. The flute's melody was lighter and more playful, providing a delicate contrast to the heavy mood that had been lingering in the room.

The three of them—Jeonghan, Choi Seungcheol, and Hyungwon were now part of a delicate, unspoken trio. The general’s sword movements echoed the strength of the prince’s flute, while Jeonghan’s guqin became the heart of the performance, pulsing with emotion. The contrast between the strength of the blade, the beauty of the flute, and the depth of the guqin was a stunning display of harmony.

Hayeon found herself at the room's edge, her eyes wide with shock, lips pressed together in frustration. She had crafted this trap to make Jeonghan the highlight of the evening, eager to see him struggle under the weight of expectations.

Instead, her well-planned scheme had backfired. The Performance Concludes. As the music faded, silence blanketed the room, a collective breath held in the air. This silence was unique it was not one of tension, but rather one of admiration. The guests seemed to sense the connection between the three men, how their talents had intertwined into something far greater than the sum of their parts.

 Jeonghan stood up slowly, his fingers still hovering over the guqin, but now he felt something different, something more powerful. He met the gaze of Duke Choi, who stood tall and resolute, yet now wore a softer expression, as if offering him a quiet understanding. Then, his gaze shifted to Prince Hyungwon, whose eyes were filled with something deeper, something unspoken, something that didn’t require words.

 For a brief moment, the weight of the evening, the expectations, the manipulation—none of it mattered. He was no longer just a pawn in someone else's game. He was acknowledged. Yun Hayeon's smile wavered, her delicate façade cracking for just a moment.

She had aimed to ensnare Jeonghan in a moment of vulnerability, to make him the evening's fool. But instead, she was the one left in the shadows. The general and the prince, unknowingly, had helped him slip free from her trap.

Jeonghan turned to face the room, his voice steady yet imbued with the quiet gratitude of the moment. “I…I, thank you,” he spoke softly, his gaze briefly meeting the prince’s and then the general’s.

The sincerity in his tone was unmistakable, and in that instant, Jeonghan realized that despite the pressures and manipulations, he was not alone.

 Seungcheol offered him a small nod, his expression inscrutable yet undeniably comforting. The prince, with a slight curve of his lips, remained silent, but the warmth in his eyes conveyed a great deal.

Hayeon, still positioned in the corner, observed the unfolding scene with a tight smile, fully aware that her plan had unraveled.

But the evening was far from over. As he stands, surveying the sea of guests, the door creaks open. He senses it — a shift in the atmosphere, a sudden tension. The woman enters, the same face, the same stride, the same quiet arrogance. It was Sung Dahee, his father’s mistress. The very one who had shattered everything in his past life. And beside her, Sung Eunseo, whom he once believed to be his sister. Yet, it was she who betrayed him and ruined his existence.

 In his previous life, he had been blind, caught between duty and treachery, unable to see through the web of lies his father had woven. But now, he perceives everything. Now, he understands the truth.

 Sung Dahee strides forward without hesitation. She enters the hall, her voice as cold as steel as she addresses the crowd. "Kim Donggun, your son deserves to know the truth. My daughter, Eunseo, is also your child. Your flesh and blood." The words crash down like a hammer, and Jeonghan’s heart halts. The banquet hall falls silent, everyone is stunned by the revelation. Eunseo, standing in the shadow of her mother, appears too composed for her age. She stands before him, claiming her rightful place in this world.

Nevertheless, Jeonghan, the reborn Jeonghan, is already aware of the significance of what is about to occur. He knows what his father will express, how his mother will react, and what the future entails. It’s almost as if time has slowed down, the moment hanging precariously.

Jeonghan's voice broke the silence, unexpectedly calm despite the tempest raging within him, "Abeoji, you… you concealed this from us?" The question hangs in the air, echoing back to the version of himself who never comprehended, who never dared to confront his father.

 But now, with the knowledge of the past pressing against his chest, the truth feels almost like a mockery. Lord Kim Donggun, his father, stands frozen at the high table, the moment of truth crashing down upon him. His eyes shift from Sung Dahee to Eunseo, and something flickers there, regret, guilt, perhaps even fear. The weight of the past presses down on him as if he has aged decades in an instant.

 His father’s voice, tight with hidden fury, shifts to the mistress, "I never wanted this, you know that! You forced this upon me — on us!"

 Sung Dahee spoke in a low, firm voice, without a hint of emotion, "You were the one who sought me out. You were the one who made promises you couldn’t keep."

Kim Donggun, who is already acquainted with the bitterness of these words, feels a storm brewing inside him. The weight of betrayal feels even more burdensome now, his anger more tempered — this time, he comprehends the forces at play. But Eunseo stands there, a quiet presence next to her mother. The soft, lilting scent of her omega status is unmistakable — sweet, yet tinged with something ominous. This girl, so innocent in her appearance, has become the representation of everything that went wrong in the past.

Eunseo spoke up, her voice soft yet filled with an unusual power for someone young. "It doesn’t matter how you feel. The truth can no longer be hidden. We are siblings, and the blood that runs through our veins is the same."

The words, so simple yet so piercing, shatter something inside Jeonghan. In his previous life, he had been blindsided by her existence, confused and enraged by the sudden emergence of someone who seemed to take everything that should have been his. Someone who changed his life completely.

 But now, in this reborn life, he knows this truth will shape everything. He cannot change the fact that she is part of the family. But what will he do with that knowledge? The room holds its breath as the air thickens with the tension between Duke Kim and his two children.

His mother, Lady Yoon, her eyes sharp as ever, watches from across the hall, her hands clenched around the edge of her teacup.

 His father began to speak in a rough voice, as though he was struggling to find the right words. "Jeonghan, you are my son, my firstborn! This... This is a mistake."

But Jeonghan, with the memories of his past life crashing in on him, feels something stir within him, a strange sense of clarity. The anger, the frustration, it all burns away to reveal something else: a chance. A chance to take control of the future, to shape the destiny he had once thought was inevitable.

Jeonghan's voice was steady, yet it bore the heavy burden of two lives.

 "Father, you should not have done something like this, betraying eomma’s trust. I can never forgive you." The words stunned everyone into silence.

 Even Eunseo, usually composed, faltered for a brief moment as she looked up at him. He pivoted on his heel, his heart racing as he distanced himself from the chaos, from the revelation that had shattered everything he believed he knew.

Jeonghan murmured to himself, "Let the future unfold as it will." With that, he stepped out into the night, leaving behind a banquet hall filled with questions, betrayal, and the looming shadow of a future that now rested in his hands.

Chapter Text

An oppressive silence hung in the air as a jade cup filled with wine slipped from the duke’s hand, the wine bleeding into the white linen like blood. Servants and guests froze, their eyes darting between the duke and the woman.

Duke Kim spoke with a grim expression, "You dare to come before me without being summoned."

Sung Dahee bowed slightly, then looked up, her voice cold and calculating, "Your excellency has forgotten that you have a child, someone you once claimed to love."

All eyes shifted to the young Omega girl beside Sung Dahee, her delicate features and calm demeanor contrasting with the intensity of her gaze directed at Jeonghan.

Steward Kang murmured to the Duke, "Master, she bears an uncanny resemblance to you... It’s quite unsettling. Her features remind me of a younger you."

Duke Kim snapped, "Enough!"

He turned to Eunseo and asked, "You dare return during Jeonghan’s Hair Pin ceremony. What do you want? Favor? A name? Or is this merely an act of vengeance?"

Eunseo met Duke Kim's gaze, her eyes unwavering, "I seek only the truth, Abeoji. If he is recognized as your eldest child, then let all who carry your blood stand before Heaven and be acknowledged."

Gasps echoed throughout the room. Lady Yoon, the Duke’s legal wife, gripped her fan so tightly that it cracked.

A smirk danced across Sung Dahee’s lips as she remarked, "Your excellency, is it not written in the Records of Rites, 'Where branches grow, let them not be cut by envy’s blade'? Your omega son has departed, my lord. Does that not indicate his strength... or his fear?"

Elder Kim, a distant relative, rose, "Stop your riddles, Omega. What now? Shall the lesser child seize the stage?"

"Let no one speak further," Duke Kim said quietly.

The air was thick with tension as silence fell. Guests began to murmur.

Jeonghan’s inner courtyard

Clear View Garden

Jeonghan leans against the intricately carved stone railing of the small, red-lacquered bridge, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. His ceremonial robe is disheveled, with one golden tassel trailing in the gravel. A single red plum blossom falls beside him.

Footsteps.

He turns, expecting Seungkwan or perhaps Minghao. But it is neither. It is Sung Eunseo.

Eunseo softly says, “Oppa, you left before we could get to know each other better.

Jeonghan replies sharply, “You should not be here.”

Eunseo steps closer, “And yet, here I am. Just as you are.”

They gaze at one another, both reflections of the same father, yet so different from one another.

Jeonghan trembles, “Why now?”

Sung Eunseo says in a feigned gentle voice, “Because truth waits for no one. Not even for you, Oppa.”

Jeonghan laughs bitterly.

“Then take it. Take it all. The name, the title. The cage.”

Eunseo bows down, “What are you even saying, Oppa? Why would I want to steal your things? I hope you accept me as your sister.”

Jeonghan thinks to himself, ‘Did you not do just that in the last life? I will never believe your sweet words again.’

Outwardly, Jeonghan behaves softly.

“Then let us be closer, sister.”

The Banquet Hall was heavy with silence and incense. Guests have left their places. Duke Kim was unsure what to do in this moment. Right at this moment, Eunseo appeared in the hall.

All eyes fix on Sung Eunseo, the uninvited omega daughter. Her mother, Mistress Sung, stands with her head slightly lowered. The Duke’s consort, Lady Yoon, clutches her chest, half in outrage, half in fear.

Eunseo suddenly stepped forward, her voice clear and unnervingly sweet.

“Why such sorrow, everyone? Oppa merely needed air. Surely, none of us here is are stranger to pressure.

Or... guilt.”

The elders gasped. Eunseo smiled sweetly.

Eunseo turned to the elders, “Forgive this interruption. Let it not darken such a beautiful evening.”

Steward Zhao spoke up, “You dare speak in his stead, girl?”

Eunseo addressed the room with feigned innocence, saying, "Not in his place, elder. Only in his absence. After all, doesn’t a person’s true value reveal itself under pressure?"

Eunseo made a subtle gesture, prompting two servants to present a lacquered box.

She announced to the assembly, "Since my esteemed brother is too... overwhelmed... to proceed, perhaps we can continue the ceremony with a gift of clarity."

She opens the box. Inside lies a collection of legal documents, their seals unmistakably broken, with several pages marked in fresh red ink. Eunseo spoke in a composed tone, though it carried an undercurrent of something more.

"These are the original contracts of the House of Kim, sealed by the late Duke himself. Within them lay two marriage contracts, each one binding and vital for the family's future. Yet, only one has been honored."

A heavy silence enveloped the room. The Duke’s expression hardened, and his gaze flickered to Sung Dahee, who remained inscrutable.

Lady Yoon interjected sharply, "This is a blatant lie! Fabricated documents and petty deceit! How dare you accuse us of such absurdity!"

Concubine Sung replied with a calm demeanor and a smirk, "Ah, my dear. You seem to forget, contracts can be broken, promises overlooked, and debts can be quietly erased when no one is watching."

She gestures toward the documents, the implication unmistakable. And in the eyes of the law, these documents hold undeniable weight.

Eunseo warned in a low voice, "You might want to consider carefully, Lady Yoon. One promise kept, one broken. You understand the implications."

Her gaze cut through the atmosphere as the nobles around them began to murmur, casting cautious looks at Lady Yoon.

Duke Kim finally stood up, declaring, "Enough! Stop the ceremony now.”

He turns to the chief steward. Escort all noble guests to the East Pavilion. No one departs until this matter is settled."

Eunseo gently interjected, "Forgive me, Father, but I worry that keeping the guests in the hall would expose them to rumors. Why not send them off with gifts...” And the servants swiftly bring forth jade ornaments and silk bags filled with gold-threaded coins. Each gift is marked with the Duke’s insignia, accompanied by a discreet note that states, "Loyalty preserves favor. Speak wisely."

The nobles converse quietly among themselves.

"A child... yet she already weaves like a court spider."

With reluctance, the guests begin to take their leave, either flattered, bribed, or silenced.

Duke Kim is engaged in conversation with Eunseo, gritting his teeth, "What is it you desire?"

Eunseo replies with a smile.

"Justice. Acknowledgment. Surely, an omega child of your lineage should not be left in the cold indefinitely."

"Are you planning to take your brother’s position?"

Eunseo smiles dangerously, "He forfeited his place the moment he fled."

She bows deeply, perfectly courteous.

"But do not worry, Father. I would never harm my dear brother. Not unless he compels me."

Eunseo, clad in immaculate white and scarlet, holds a scroll that glows gold in the lamplight.

Jeonghan watches Eunseo from a distance.

Eunseo murmurs to herself, "In this sacred hour, it is only fitting that both children of the Duke stand before Heaven. Let us not disgrace our ancestors with silence."

Jeonghan reflects inwardly.

And so it begins again.

The same phrases. The same smile.

In a few months, this chamber will be ablaze with the same crimson she wears now. My mother has gone. Father executed. And I... abandoned in the snow behind the ancestral hall.

But not this time. This time, I will not raise my voice. I will not flee. I will watch them dig their graves—and smile as they do.

The Next Day

Morning

Ancestral Hall

The entire Kim clan gathered at the ancestral hall.

Jeonghan rises. "Father. Elders. May I?"

Everyone turns. Lady Yoon breathes a sigh of relief. The Duke nods. Jeonghan steps toward Eunseo, hands folded behind his back.

"Sister, your commitment to ancestral traditions is commendable. But I wonder, did you practice this speech? Or has your mother been whispering it to you since you were born?”

Eunseo’s smile flickered momentarily.

"Does it truly matter? A truth articulated in any voice remains a truth."

Jeonghan grinned and circled her.

"Indeed. However, a lie, when expressed beautifully, is far more challenging to uproot."

He reaches for the registry scroll she laid out and picks it up with calmness. His fingertip glides over the seal.

 Jeonghan reflected inwardly.

"Last time, I didn’t even question it. I was too shocked. Too gentle. But now I recall—this seal… is one stroke short. Mistress Sung couldn’t forge a turtle shell correctly to save her life."

Jeonghan held the scroll aloft.

"Abeoji. Before we delve into inheritance discussions, should we verify if this registry is legitimate?

Gasps echoed throughout the hall. Eunseo’s hand twitched slightly.

Eunseo spoke in a commanding tone.

"You question the sacred document?"

Jeonghan smiled softly.

"No. I question whether you pilfered it from the storage hall this morning… just before the incense was lit."

Eyes widened.

Jeonghan thought to himself, ‘You were always too greedy, Eunseo. You didn’t wait. You acted prematurely, just like last time. That’s why I set the trap. I spoke to Seungkwan and Lady Lee three days ago. Instructed them to count every seal. ‘

Elder Zhao appeared astonished.

"Is this true?"

Duke Kim spoke up, "Summon Steward Kang. Right now."

Sung Dahee shifted in her seat, suddenly pale. Her fan snapped shut. She spoke in a cold tone.

"This is a distraction. A child’s tantrum cloaked in courtly words."

Jeonghan bowed slightly.

"Then let us all await the truth. If the document is authentic, I will bow to my sister and step aside.

But if it is false… what then, Mistress Sung?"

A blade in his words, but no raised voice. No fire. Just calm precision.

Jeonghan contemplated silently.

‘They wish to provoke my anger. They want to see me disturbed. That’s how they achieved victory last time. But I’ve already bled. I’ve already faced death. All that’s left is to calculate. This time, I will be the one to strike first.’

The doors open wide. Steward Kang enters, carrying a registry box. He kneels before the crowd.

Steward Kang inspects the registration scroll.

"This scroll does not match the master copy. The ink is still wet. The seal is missing a stroke. The family archive was disturbed this morning.

Elder Wei shouted, "Forgery."

Eunseo exclaimed in a panicked tone.

"That’s impossible—someone must have interfered—"

Jeonghan interrupted her, speaking calmly.

"Then perhaps, dear sister, we should search your room.

Or your mother’s."

The silence erupts into whispers. The Marquis stands.

Duke Kim said with anger, "Mistress Sung. Eunseo. You will be confined to the Shadow Pavilion until this is resolved. Do not make me repeat myself."

Jeonghan thought to himself.

‘So, this is how it feels… to reclaim power. Not by rewriting history with a bang… but by allowing a quiet plan to unfold in your favor.’

Jeonghan walks alone, moonlight glistening in his hair.

Minghao emerged from the shadows, saying, "That was a delicate dance over a narrow bridge, hyung."

Jeonghan replied without turning, "I was born on that bridge. Now I’m constructing the rails."

Three days after the banquet. Eunseo and her mother are confined to the Shadow Pavilion, yet the political undercurrents in the manor remain restless.

Moonlight Courtyard 

Early Morning 

The frost still clung to the moss-covered stone paths, and a silver mist lingered in the garden like forgotten incense, enveloping the gnarled plum trees. A lone red blossom, out of season, stubbornly held onto its branch—a symbol of defiance amidst the stillness. 

Jeonghan stood beneath it, having swapped his ceremonial hairpin for a simple jade pin. From a distance, he seemed lost in thought, perhaps reflecting on poetry or mourning. Yet beneath his calm demeanor, his thoughts were resolute. 

He reflected on his past life. 

She will start anew. She always does. Poison concealed in tea whispers like perfume in the servants’ quarters. Even when trapped, Eunseo knows how to decay a household from within. In my previous life, I maintained a proud posture and kept my hands too clean. By the time I recognized the dirt, it had consumed me. Not this time. This time, I will uproot the problems before they can flourish.’

He turned away from the tree and headed toward the north wing—the older quarters where the lesser servants resided. The air here was filled with the scent of paper, candle wax, and faded ambitions. This was where decisions once quietly took shape before reaching the ears of those truly in power. 

As Jeonghan entered the dim corridor, his gaze fell on the floor where he recalled a servant slipping a decade ago while pouring oil for Lady Yoon’s lantern. It had seemed like an accident back then. Now, he understood better. 

The servants' quarters were warm, alive with the sound of rustling scrolls and the scratching of ink. Steward Kang, loyal yet cautious, was kneeling at a distant table, meticulously sorting through records. 

He looked up, paling slightly at Jeonghan's entrance, but remained silent. Jeonghan took a moment before speaking. He approached the shelf, running his fingers along the bindings. He remembered which ledgers Eunseo had secretly tampered with in the years to come. They appeared pristine now, still untainted. But he knew where the gaps would be. Jeonghan pondered his next move. 

“She bought merchants not with silver, but with secrets. A coin can buy silence once; shame can buy it forever. And one of those men… is already in the northern town. By this time, he should be here, seeking an audience. If I eliminate that root now, her garden will wither before it can bloom.” 

Jeonghan exited the quarters and returned to his courtyard. He summoned Jihoon, Mingyu, Seungkwan, Junhui, and Minghao. Speaking softly to Junhui, Jeonghan said, “When the northern merchants arrive, direct them to me.” 

“Hyung?” Seungkwan asked. 

“Yes, do not inform father about any of the merchants,” Jeonghan instructed. 

“I will do that, but why, Hyung?” Junhui inquired. 

“What about the trade routes…” Mingyu wondered. 

“Yes, why should we do that, hyung?” Minghao questioned Jeonghan. 

Jeonghan responded, “The routes are irrelevant. But the names are crucial. Keep an eye on Tianyu Hall. If they arrive, delay them. Offer tea. Nothing more.” They all listened and nodded in agreement, though confusion hung in the air.

Later, Jeonghan knelt alone before the ancestral tablets, the wind whistling through the narrow stone pillars like the voices of those who have passed. He lit the incense with a trembling hand. He reflected on the last life where he lost his mother, and how the ancient Duke of South’s mansion fell into ruin.

‘No one anticipated it. None of us did. And that was the essence of the matter.’

“Eunseo smiled, cried, and laughed with me. She called me brother, even when her knife was poised at my back. This time, she will see my smile... and remain unaware of what I’m hiding. Let her think she’s won the pause. While I prepare for the checkmate.’

In the waning light, Jeonghan’s shadow stretched long against the stone floor, no longer a boy’s shadow. It moved like something ancient. Like a ghost that had learned to live again.

Two weeks after the banquet, Eunseo remains confined, yet her influence still lingers. The Duke, cautious, has reopened the outer court, and young scholars have begun to arrive for their seasonal duties. Among them is Sung Min—sharp-eyed, silver-tongued, and dangerously unscarred.

The sun was low, filtering through the latticework in threads of silver. Dust shimmered in the air like drifting pollen. Scrolls lay half-unfurled across polished tables, and the silence was soft, reverent, undisturbed by rank or age.

Sung Min moved with the quiet confidence of a cat that had never faced a swat. He was not beautiful, but pleasant to behold—clean lines, a clear voice, and hands like a poet’s. He already spoke as if he had glimpsed the empire’s beating heart.

He leaned over a volume on State Ritual and Inheritance Law, captivated as if studying not just theory, but strategy. Jeonghan observed from the threshold.

‘Sung Min, in my previous life, you lingered behind Eunseo, whispering in her ear like a shadow. Every execution order carried your phrasing. Every alliance she formed was rooted in your counsel.’

But now you’re still young. Still impressionable. Still...

Library Chamber

Jeonghan approached closer and let his robes make a faint sound that drew Sung Min's notice. Startled, Sung Min swung about and bowed rapidly.

"Young Master Yoon, I'm sorry, I was unaware you were here," he said.

 Jeonghan answered, "Why would you be aware? I am reading. Are you not the librarian?

Sung Min blinked, not sure if Jeonghan was chastising him or joking.

 Jeonghan passed him by and chose a scroll at random.

 "The court finds your banquet speech to be... spectacular," Sung Min said gently.

Jeonghan stayed mute, opening the scroll though it was upside down.

 Jeonghan considered, ‘Are you already testing me, Sung Min? You were more cautious then. Your hunger, however, stays there. That's good news. One can satisfy hunger—or it can be suppressed.’

"The court makes many claims,” Jeonghan said without looking up from the scroll.

 " It said Eunseo was elegant. It asserted the seal was real. " Sung Min responded thoughtfully, "And yet it now alleges it is not true. "

Jeonghan gently added, "Still, the truth eventually emerges. "

Sung Min watched him closely. Their mood had changed; it was an unstated agreement.

Jeonghan mused, ‘He's already assessing me. Though he is unaware of my history, he feels the change. I was very pliable, vulnerable, and fragile in my past life. But starting with you, young scholar, I will shape others this time.’

Jeonghan spoke calmly, "Join me.  Let's chat far from scrolls.”

The path outside the library snaked through a grove of tall bamboo. Echoing the sighs of old spirits, the wind spoke across the stalks. Jeonghan paced slowly, letting the silence drag on.

He then muttered, "I plan to start a study circle. Solid thoughts; clear speakers. No sycophants. No spies.” Jeonghan stopped.

He handed Sung Min a folded note which said Tomorrow, before dawn, in the west pavilion. Come by yourself.

Jeonghan pondered as he left, "In my last lifetime, you were her weapon. This time, you will either work under me or I will blunt your blade before it can grow.”

In the  West Pavilion just before sunrise, the morning was unnaturally calm. Light soft gray seeped in under the wooden beams like a whisper. Inside the open pavilion, a single oil lamp gave off a little puddle of warmth. Jeonghan stood alone in basic robes with untamed hair, arms clasped behind him. He hadn't rested.

Wearing subdued scholar's blue, Sung Min traversed the fog. Deeply, he bowed. "I was curious, not obedient," Sung Min said. “Let us clear this.”

 Jeonghan responded calmly, "That's good. Compliance can be bought. One has to merit curiosity. “

Across a modest table, they set themselves apart from one another. Jeonghan poured the tea himself, filling two cups. One for each of them. He decided against alcohol use. What happened next wasn’t a discussion; it was an examination: subtle inquiries regarding laws, inheritance, and how a family could deteriorate from within. Sung Min responded thoughtfully, yet with intensity. A risky intensity.

Jeonghan observed him, committing to memory each hesitation, every truth left unspoken. He contemplated to himself.

“He’s too clever to be easily trusting. Yet he isn’t quite astute enough to see himself as a tool.

If I can hone his potential… he could serve as my weapon before she even recalls his existence. ”

As dawn broke, Sung Min prepared to depart.

Sung Min remarked,

“If I come back, it means I’m paying attention. It doesn’t mean I’m devoted. ”

Jeonghan replied,

“Loyalty isn’t what I seek. I need progress. ”

Sung Min paused for a moment, then gave a single nod. He vanished into the morning light.

Shadow Pavilion

The Shadow Pavilion exuded opulence akin to a grand sarcophagus. Screens adorned with cranes. Cushions threaded with silver. A garden that remained untouched. And there was Eunseo, perched by the window like a painted hawk.

She never shed tears. That was not her way.

Mistress Sung was nearby, looking pale and pacing. Sung Dahee stated,

“You claimed the seal would deceive them.”

Eunseo replied in a frigid tone, “The seal was flawless. I’m uncertain about what occurred.”

Her finger grazed a lacquered box next to her—a small container filled with powders and dried herbs, some rare, some forbidden, all lethal when applied properly.

A servant entered quietly, bowing deeply. The servant bowed and informed,

“The tea for Young Master Yoon will arrive at noon, as you ordered.”

Eunseo smiled slightly. “Excellent. Include the powdered orchid root. Just a little—not enough to kill, merely enough to unlock the door.”

The servant lingered briefly, then bowed and exited.

Eunseo reflected to herself,

“You’ll endure this, brother. But not without consequences.

And once you start to question your abilities, others will notice too. ”

Jeonghan’s Study

The tea was fragrant, infused with peach blossom and ginseng. The same combination his mother had once prepared for him in the spring. He sipped deliberately, distracted, with his gaze wandering over a ledger of trade routes. At first, it felt harmless—a cozy warmth. Then a peculiar chill gripped his joints. Followed by—frailty.

His hand began to shake.

He inwardly pleaded in desperation,

“No. Not this once more. Not at this moment. She has already set things in motion.”

The cup slipped from his grasp, shattering. Ink spilled across the scroll like blood. He stood but wavered unsteadily.

A knock sounded at the door, and Jihoon entered, sharp-eyed and calm.

He noticed Jeonghan’s unsteady posture and rushed to him, faster than anyone should. He touched Jeonghan's wrist, then scrutinized the tea. He inhaled its aroma and his eyes narrowed.

Jihoon stated, “She is examining you.”

Jeonghan gritted his teeth as he replied, “Let her examine. I will respond.”

As Jeonghan reclined, sweat cooling down his neck, he gazed out the open screen toward the garden below, still flourishing. Still serene. But now he understood, the battle had already commenced. And Eunseo had launched her initial attack.

Three days following the poisoning, Jeonghan had healed, yet he kept the truth concealed. In the meantime, whispers began to change—exactly as he had planned.

Peach Blossom Courtyard

The air in the room was heavy with the scent of iron and crushed plants. Jeonghan remained still while Jihoon wrapped his injured wrist anew. Although the poison's effects had diminished, a faint discomfort persisted in his joints, like the grip of a lingering winter.

Mingyu stood across from him, his face betraying no emotions.

In a low voice, Mingyu suggested, “We should inform Abeoji.”

Jeonghan replied quietly, “Not just yet. If she believes she's lost, she will become more aggressive. If she thinks she’s won... she will let her guard down.”

During the next few days, Jeonghan did not attend council meetings. Servants gossiped: “The young master is unwell.” Some speculated it was due to a chill, while others mentioned a blood imbalance.

Nobles and stewards alike shared their theories. A particularly calculated whisper was voiced more than once, questioning if Jeonghan had inherited his mother’s frail health. That whisper belonged to Nanny Yu, one of Mistress Sung’s oldest allies. Just as Jeonghan had anticipated.

Sung Min arrived at the courtyard under the cover of checking the ledgers. Contrary to what he expected, he found Jeonghan waiting in simple garments, holding a cup of tea, still untouched.

Sung Min felt a twinge of tension. “You shouldn't be up yet.”

Jeonghan managed a faint smile. “Perfect. The rumor is taking effect.”

He threw a scroll toward Sung Min. Inside were names, dates, and a servant’s salary records. Slightly inflated figures, nothing that would stand out unless one knew where to look.

Jeonghan remarked, “This servant was compensated to deliver the poisoned tea. And he reports to Nanny Yu.”

Sung Min was taken aback. “You plan to expose him?”

Jeonghan responded softly, “No. I intend to elevate him.”

Sung Min's eyes widened in surprise.

Jeonghan continued,

“Let Eunseo believe her man is advancing. Let him speak more boldly. When he leads me to the next target, I'll eliminate both.”

The storm began gently, mist weaving through the pines, followed by a light rain soaking the courtyard tiles. Jeonghan stood beneath the roof overhang, his hand pressed against the wood, his breath uneven.

The pain had returned, not the poison, but the memory of it. His body remembered all too well.

His fingers shook. He despised that feeling.

I thought returning would make me stronger. But the past still haunts me. This body still bleeds like before. I recall everything—the treachery, the dagger, the cold. Yet remembering does not grant immunity; it only makes you hesitant to react.’

He settled on the stone bench. Rain softly pattered around him. In the dimness, a bamboo chime softly clinked in the breeze. He shut his eyes. There are times he questioned whether this new existence is a gift… or some sort of curse.

‘I have no idea how to experience youth again. My skill lies solely in the art of pursuing spirits. But if I have to face these specters, then I will return the haunting.’

The rain intensified.

He rose once more slowly, rigidly, and with difficulty, and went back indoors.

There was work awaiting him. On the writing desk was a scroll of names, a noose gradually drawing tighter around Eunseo.

It was a secluded warehouse in the eastern market area in the late morning. The air is filled with mixed aromas of spices, ink, and wood. The city awakens like a creature stirring from sleep.

The emblem of the Duke Mansion, a phoenix gripping a plum blossom, was subtly etched into the beams overhead. Only those with knowledge recognized it as one of Jeonghan’s assets, a fabric and ink trading business, obtained by his mother long ago and mostly forgotten by the main estate.

Until now.

Jeonghan showed up dressed in simple travel garments, his hair tied back in a low bun. Junhui and Minghao accompanied him, lightly armed but watchful. He advanced without fanfare, attracting little attention. Inside, the workers quickly bowed. Ledgers were presented, tea was served, and reports were murmured. But Jeonghan remained concentrated. Calculated.

‘This was one of the first things she dismantled. In my past life, Eunseo secretly sold the warehouse through a proxy agent. I was unaware until I found myself broke. Now I know the agent's name. I know his demand. And I have already outbid him.’

He listened to Seungkwan's update while his gaze roamed across the shipment crates—fabrics, seal papers, jade stamps, and inks brought in from the coast. More than mere trade items, these represented currency in favors, bribes, and subtle control.

He dipped a brush into one of the new ink mixtures, assessing its consistency on a sheet. Smooth, dark, and quick to dry. He approved with a single nod. Jeonghan faced Junhui and Minghao.

"Send two crates of this mixture to Chancellor Park’s residence. Mark it as a congratulatory present for his grandson’s engagement. "

Minghao and Junhui exchanged puzzled looks.

Minghao responded to Jeonghan.

"But… there is no engagement—"

Jeonghan replied.

"There will be. "

"Soft power first. Ink before blade.

Let them speak my name with gratitude… before they learn to fear it. "

That night, Jeonghan went back to a private training courtyard, an enclosed area enclosed by wooden posts, weapon racks, and a layer of dust. It was where the estate guards practiced—where Jeonghan had never stepped in his former life.

Minghao stood in front of him.

Minghao gruffly stated, "Again. "

Jeonghan lunged forward with a short wooden staff, his attack awkward yet intentional. Minghao countered smoothly, causing Jeonghan to stagger slightly.

Minghao let out a laugh,

"You still move like a poet reciting under the moonlight, hyung. "

Jeonghan gave a slight smile.

"Is that meant to be an insult… or a compliment? "

Minghao remarked, "It depends on whether you’re engaging a thief or charming one. "

Jeonghan reflected internally.

‘In my previous life, I never wielded a weapon. I was taught to smile and assign tasks—to rely on the guards, the family, and the laws. But when they sought me, I had no weapon. Just my identity. And it wasn’t sufficient. This time, I will endure pain now… to avoid death later.’

Minghao handed him a protective vest and acknowledged him with a nod.

 Minghao commented, "You have quick reflexes. Too tidy, but your eyes remain steady. That's uncommon, hyung. "

Jeonghan quietly responded, "My eyes are the only skill I’ve honed. " He paused briefly. "But I will also train the rest. "

He rose once more. Hurt, perspiring—but more stable.

In the distance, the sky glowed orange behind the ancestral buildings.

And under that gentle gleam, Jeonghan started to create a version of himself that couldn’t be corrupted, controlled, or silenced.

In the glow of the courtyard lanterns, Jeonghan practiced slow, careful movements—each one sharper and more exact than the one before. His shadow loomed long behind him.

No longer the Duke's Omega son.

Now, someone is transforming into something entirely different.

A Few Days Later

It was a bustling market near the city's southern entrance. Mid-afternoon, sunlight streams through red paper lanterns and vibrant awnings. The air bubbles with conversation, sounds of clinking coins, and a mix of fragrant spices.

The market pulsated with noise and color: vendors loudly advertised their goods, carts rattled across cobblestones, and scents of jasmine tea and grilled lotus roots intertwined with the crowd. Lanterns swung gently overhead, casting warm pools of light on the aged wooden stalls.

Jeonghan walked calmly through the crowd, hands tucked inside his long sleeves. His gaze was firm yet inquisitive as he ventured into a narrow alley filled with jewelers. Glass displays sparkled with jade, pearls, and intricate silver work.

He paused in front of a particular stall where a graceful jade pendant caught his eye, shaped like a lotus flower, its petals semi-transparent and softly glowing green in the afternoon light.

The jeweler, a small elderly man with a thin beard, smiled knowingly. She said, “An excellent choice, young master. The jade comes from the western mountains, believed to grant calm to restless hearts.”

Jeonghan nodded slightly, reaching out to feel the pendant's smooth texture.

 Suddenly, a voice, gentle but laced with defiance, emerged next to him. It belonged to a young woman.

"That belongs to me. "

Jeonghan turned to find a young omega with keen eyes and intricately braided hair. Her silk sleeves displayed the insignia of a lesser noble family. Her gaze shifted from the pendant to Jeonghan.

The omega advanced a step, her eyes narrowing.

She stated, "I noticed it first. "

Jeonghan smiled, a calm and composed expression on his face.

He answered, “It’s a unique piece. It merits more than one admirer.”

He gave a slight bow, indicating respect while also declining to escalate the situation.

Jeonghan suggested, “Why don’t we let the jeweler decide?”

The omega’s lips twitched, a flicker of a smile, hesitant yet genuine.

She responded, “Alright then. May it bring you tranquility.”

Jeonghan inclined his head again, then took a step back.

He mused to himself, ‘There will always be trivial conflicts in the world. But I am engaged in a different battle. One where wisdom prevails over wrath.’

As Jeonghan walked away, the marketplace regained its lively chaos. Lanterns swayed, coins chattered, and the aroma of jasmine filled the air.

The jade pendant glimmered one last time, subtle and everlasting.

It was a remote tea house near the city walls. The evening was late, with lanterns flickering through intricately carved wooden screens. The air carried a faint scent of jasmine mixed with sandalwood smoke.

The tea house was mostly empty, except for two individuals seated across from each other at a low lacquered table. Outside, the city’s noise was subdued, absorbed by thick stone walls and tightly drawn curtains.

One woman stirred her tea with graceful fingers, Eunseo, still dressed in jade-green silk, her eyes sharp and vigilant as a hawk’s.

Across from her was the omega from the market, Mei Lin, her noble silks exchanged for darker, more utilitarian attire. Her piercing gaze remained steady.

Eunseo’s smile was deliberate, unfolding slowly.

She addressed Mei Lin, “You have quite the reputation, Mei Lin. It takes courage to stake your claim on the jade pendant in the bustling market. Few would confront Jeonghan so openly.”

Mei Lin's eyes flickered with a blend of amusement and caution.

“Courage or foolishness? It depends on who tells the tale of victory.”

Eunseo leaned closer, lowering her voice to a secretive whisper.

“Winning is about forming alliances. You desire influence, and I seek vengeance. Our goals... may not be so far apart.”

Mei Lin pondered, “She’s a threat, undoubtedly, but danger makes for the sharpest ally. It's better to unite our weapons than to clash blindly.”

Mei Lin positioned her hands neatly.

“I seek power and safety. Jeonghan’s ascent disturbs too many balances. If you assist me in navigating the court, I can unlock doors for you.”

Eunseo’s smile widened, genuinely almost friendly.

“And I can ensure your adversaries... discreetly disappear.”

She raised her cup in a toast.

“To new opportunities.”

Mei Lin lifted her cup in response.

“To the future—whatever it has in store.”

Outside, the lanterns danced lightly. Two figures leaned in closely over the table, forming a shaky partnership.

Heavenly Tranquility Garden

The garden exuded a gentle charm, a delicate realm of transient petals and hushed whispers. Pink cherry blossoms, light and drifting, danced languidly in the cool evening air, blanketing the jade pathways like snowfall. Lanterns hung low from the branches, creating pools of warm illumination that blended with the silver glow of the moon.

Amid this fleeting beauty, aristocrats in ornate robes mingled, and sounds of soft laughter, clinking dishes, and the gentle rustling of silk were heard.

However, beneath the surface of refinement, ominous shadows crept like snakes.

In a discreet pavilion adorned in dark robes, Nanny Yu convened with a select group of plotters. Their faces were shrouded in dim light, expressions tense with deliberate intent. Each had been touched by Jeonghan’s subtle ascent, his presence posing a threat to their domains, smothering their aspirations.

In murmurs, a meticulously folded scroll circulated among them, displaying a map of the banquet area, with crucial spots highlighted: private nooks, servant paths, and obscured thickets. They exchanged no audible words, yet the atmosphere was thick with malice.

The omega’s heat, a time of vulnerability and sanctity, was to be wielded as their weapon.

Jeonghan, always careful, had kept his situation hidden, a silent secret even within his own family. Yet rumors had slipped out: the timing of his cycle was known. The banquet, filled with alluring aromas and mingling guests, was an ideal setting.

A favored concubine of the Emperor, infamous for her charm masking cruelty, was to become their unwitting tool. Her chamber had been prepared with discreet traps: rare toxins to numb the senses, herbal mixtures designed to provoke uncontrollable desire.

The scheme was remarkably simple in its wickedness.

As the banquet-goers admired the blossoms, tiny vials would be added to Jeonghan’s tea and food, substances crafted to disrupt his self-control. To thrust his heat upon him in front of everyone, leaving him vulnerable, his dignity crushed under the mockery of the court.

And should he resist, darker forces awaited, silken scarves, hidden chambers, the looming threat of violence disguised as pleasure.

The lantern light flickered as the wind picked up, sending a sudden tremor through the blossoms. Beneath the surface beauty hid a cruel strategy, for humiliation would fracture Jeonghan’s alliances, unravel his tenuous grasp on power, and brand him as weak, an omega that no noble could trust.

The conspirators monitored the garden paths like vigilant predators, anticipating their moment. The night deepened. Cherry petals cascaded like snowflakes, concealing secrets as cold as the steel hidden beneath ornate sleeves.

Blossoms continued to fall in languid spirals; the air was thick with incense, distant laughter, and a sense that something was amiss.

It started as a barely perceptible whisper, simply the pulse beneath the skin.

Jeonghan had readied himself for every eventuality. Every deliberate action, every exquisitely chosen word, every robe selected to distract just enough, disarm just enough. He had concealed his scent, taken suppressants, and counted his breaths like precious coins before the banquet.

And yet, it penetrated.

A surge of warmth, unexpected and strange. Not originating from him. Man-made. Intense.

It slithered up his back like flames caressing silk. His heart skipped a beat. The aroma of wine mixed with crushed flowers became unpleasant. His hands shook, concealed beneath his long sleeves. A halo blurred his vision. Heat surged across his skin, and something treacherous stirred low in his abdomen.

He contemplated internally.

‘Poisoned. Manipulated. They want me to fall apart before them like a quivering animal. Let them catch the scent. Let them mock me. Let them exploit me. Not here. Not here.’

He got to his feet. Too quickly. His knees locked in place.

A few noble faces turned as he swayed. A courtier grinned, mistaking his retreat for shyness.

The Empress Dowager continued laughing somewhere behind the silk curtains.

Jeonghan stepped away from the feast. One step, then another. His vision warped around the edges, thickened by fragrance and embarrassment.

Then he felt the hands.

Not gripping. Not intrusive. Steady.

Two strong and rough hands grasped his elbows, supporting him effortlessly as if accustomed to handling injured people in armor.

A deep, soft voice followed, low and raspy like gravel underfoot.

"You’re burning. This way. "

Jeonghan barely glimpsed his face, only the shine of black armor under the layers of formal attire, the cold silver thread on his shoulder denoting his rank. A carved dragon pin adorned the collar. It was Duke Choi Seungcheol. Hero of the northern defenses. Sword of the Empire. A name that was both a threat and a promise.

Jeonghan wanted to speak, to pull away, to object.

But his body, drenched in sweat and trembling, betrayed him. His scent, now sharp, familiar, and humiliating, faintly seeped into the atmosphere.

He anticipated disgust. Coldness. Something harsh.

Instead, the general acted.

Quickly. Accurately.

He wrapped his outer cloak around Jeonghan more snugly, lifted him as though he weighed very little, and walked into the shadows beyond the banquet, past the garden, into the old quarters that had once hosted poetry readings. Empty now. Silent.

Inside, the air felt cooler. No incense. No fragrance. Just the dry, clean aroma of ancient books and stone.

The general laid Jeonghan down on a long, low bed. He slowly lit the lantern only partially.

He provided no questions. No clumsy touches. Just silence.

Jeonghan curled slightly, pressing his hand against his pulse at the throat. His breathing was rapid. A tremor shook his body.

He opened his eyes just enough to meet the Duke's gaze.

What he saw wasn’t pity. It was anger. But not directed at him.

Jeonghan pondered.

‘Why… is it you? Why are you at ease while I’m trembling like this? You are at war. Steel. The winter wind.And yet your hands… remain steady. I should loathe this moment. But I feel secure. May the gods help me—I feel secure.’

The Duke stood a bit away with his arms crossed. His coal-dark eyes, shaped by strict discipline, did not leave Jeonghan's face.

"They aimed to shame you," he remarked softly. "They picked the wrong battlefield. "

Jeonghan shut his eyes for a brief moment. His aroma lingered subtly in the atmosphere, slightly dulled by the cloak. It was an undeniable fact.

Yet, for the first time since the onset of the heat, he felt no fear.

Not of the court. Not one of his foes. Not even being noticed.

Outside the pavilion, the petals continued to drift down slowly and gracefully. However, within the historic scholar's district, it wasn't a delicacy that appeared.

It marked the start of something unbreakable.

It was the Old Quarters, just before daybreak. Rain hung onto the eaves. The fire had dimmed. The atmosphere was quiet, as if the world was taking a moment to breathe.

Jeonghan moved slightly, his breath caught in his throat. His robe clung to him, and the warmth had lessened just enough for clarity to return. The fine silk cloak still lay across his shoulders, faintly scented with Black pepper, smoke, and cold iron.

This was no illusion; Duke Choi remained.

Seungcheol was seated nearby, still, his sword resting on his lap as if he were protecting more than just his safety.

The flickering light from the lamp danced over his sculpted and shadowed cheekbones. He didn’t meet Jeonghan’s gaze, not yet. But the silence between them felt heavy, thick like gathering storm clouds.

Jeonghan rose slowly. The cloak slipped just enough from his shoulders, revealing the delicate curve of his neck, still tingling from the aftereffects of heat.

He sensed Seungcheol's eyes the instant they moved toward his bare skin.

It was intense and sharp.

 But Seungcheol quickly turned away.

He’s acting like a statue. But I noticed how his hands delicately shielded me. I understand when a soldier's body tightens, holding back instinct.

‘He wishes to shield me. He’s reluctant to desire me. That’s the risk with someone like him.’

Such men only experience love once, and when they do, it’s forever.

Jeonghan was the first to speak, his tone low and roughened from tension. “You shouldn’t have remained. My foes will claim you have defiled me.”

Seungcheol finally directed his gaze at him, slowly. His reply was barely more than a whisper.

“Then let them talk. Their words won’t go past the gate once I start cutting.”

Jeonghan's lips parted in surprise. He hadn’t anticipated fury, not the protective kind of courtesy, but something dangerous, something primal.

Seungcheol got to his feet and moved closer. The scent of steel and rain was clinging to his robe. He stopped near enough for Jeonghan to sense the warmth radiating from him. He reached out slowly, purposefully. His fingers brushed against Jeonghan's temple, and a damp lock of hair was gently tucked behind his ear. Not quite a caress. More like an unspoken promise.

Jeonghan contemplated, “I could lean closer. Feel my breath hitch against his collar. Allow my scent to blend with his and observe him unravel. But I won't do that. That’s not the scenario I wish to engage in.”

Jeonghan spoke softly, “You need to leave. Before they catch sight of you.”

Seungcheol remained silent for a long moment, his gaze filled with unspoken thoughts. Finally, he turned, his cloak swirling like the wind of the night, exiting without uttering another word. However, the smell of smoke and black pepper clung to Jeonghan’s skin, remaining there.

Jeonghan’s study.

The candles burned dimly as shadows thickened. Scattered across the table were scrolls, herbs, and tattered silk sachets resembling a map of a battlefield.

Seated cross-legged, Jihoon had his sleeves rolled up, his hands dusted with crushed herbs. His usually gentle expression was icy this evening. The remnants of a shattered scent-blocking sachet adorned the desk, featuring a floral pattern specific to a particular household.

Jeonghan remained silent, observing as his younger brother crushed each ingredient, mixed it in water, heated it over a flame, and watched the smoke spiral.

Jihoon said softly, “The main component itself doesn’t generate heat. But when combined with lavender oil, it disrupts your gland suppressors. It amplifies their effect and subsequently shatters them.”

He pushed a list of ingredients toward Jeonghan.

“These three oils are uncommon. They can be found in the rouge parlors on Changlu Lane. Only one shop has all three available.”

Jeonghan’s gaze sharpened. He rose and approached the window. The rain had ceased, and the streets below shimmered. Lanterns were being ignited in the distance, small flashes of life illuminating the stillness of the city.

Jeonghan instructed, “Examine the shop’s records. Use your real name. Claim it’s for a noble’s engagement gift. If anyone sees you, they’ll assume you’re purchasing for someone else… not tracing a poison.”

Jihoon nodded in agreement but then hesitated.

Jihoon asked, “And if I uncover a name? What will you do then, hyung?”

Jeonghan replied with composure, “We’ll wrap it in silk and present it as a gift.”

Two days later, in the Winter Orchid Pavilion, Jihoon appeared to check the matter out. A quivering apprentice pressed a scroll into Jihoon’s hand. One name appeared carelessly concealed. Purchased with silver. “Lady Mei Lin.”

Back in his study, Jeonghan grasped the evidence between his fingers. He remained expressionless. No smile graced his lips. He tucked the name into his sleeve like a hidden blade. The banquet had wrapped up. But now the pursuit had begun.

Hall of Elegance

Noblewomen and court attendees sip tea and share secrets. Light streamed through intricate gold latticework. Incense smoke twisted like a serpent. Today’s gathering celebrated Eunseo’s recent return to favor.

Jeonghan walked in late.

He is dressed in soft silver and blue, both elegant and chill, his face as if sculpted from ice. He strolls past, whispering to noble omegas who quiet down as he moves by. At the main table, Mei Lin enjoys bloom tea while Eunseo sits beside her, both adorned in pastel silks, their gazes sharp like polished blades. Mei Lin beams as he approaches, her fan lifted slightly.

"Ah, Marquis Yoon. You've quickly regained your vigor. We were quite concerned—some fires burn fiercely but briefly. "

Jeonghan occupies the seat facing her without a smile. He places a neatly folded piece of fragrant paper on the table. The ink is a shade of lavender.

"Your fragrance supplier writes poorly when offered a bribe. What a shame. "

Eunseo tightens her grip on her cup.

Jeonghan stated coolly, "You didn't manage to poison me, Lady Mei Lin. Now, you attempt it with your words. If you wish to strike, at least wield the weapon yourself. "

Mei Lin shot back with a sly grin, "I need not dirty my hands when you so gracefully stumble over your fury. "

He leans in slightly, his voice a smooth blend of velvet and steel.

Jeonghan responded, "You presumed I was vulnerable. An omega on display. But unlike you, I do not plead for power; I create it. "

Mei Lin’s grin falters for a fleeting moment.

Jeonghan stands with elegance and bows slightly. "Savor the tea. Be cautious about what you consume. "

Eunseo moves to steady Mei Lin’s hand beneath the table. However, Jeonghan has already turned away, the crowd parting for him like silk through a blade’s edge.

It was a serene courtyard deep within the General’s abode. The peach blossoms have begun to fall away. Seungcheol waits in the pavilion, with a silk-wrapped package resting on the table.

Jeonghan arrives cloaked in dark fabric, with no guards accompanying him. He notes the bundle but refrains from touching it for now.

Jeonghan stated, "You called for me. Not even a formal invitation. Quite daring. "

Seungcheol does not immediately raise his gaze. He methodically sharpens a knife, the sound of stone against metal filling the silence. Finally, he speaks.

"You came close to death. Yet, you smiled the following day. Such arrogance can lead to a man's downfall. "

Jeonghan arches an eyebrow. "And your answer is to reprimand me like a soldier? "

Seungcheol replied, somewhat gruffly, "No. "

He gestures toward the bundle. "I made this. For you. "

Jeonghan cautiously begins to unwrap it. Inside was a small crossbow, about the length of a fan, intricately designed from dark sandalwood with shiny silver details. It fits seamlessly into the sleeve of his robe. It appears fragile, but it is deadly.

Jeonghan traces his fingers along the etched grip. A barely noticeable peach blossom. His birth flower. He speaks softly, “You remembered.”

Seungcheol answers, “I don’t forget what I want to keep safe.”

Their eyes meet. There is no kiss. No hands joined. Just breath suspended between them, thick with unspoken words.

Jeonghan tucks the bow into his sleeve. His tone is soothing this time. “And what if one day I point this at you?”

Seungcheol replies without pausing, “Then I’ll show you how to aim better.”

As Jeonghan turns to walk away, Seungcheol observes the movement of his dark robe, protective, graceful, full of life.

Seungcheol’s fingers move slightly, as if recalling the curve of Jeonghan’s wrist.

Osmanthus Pavilion

Jeonghan reads quietly, draped in a lighter robe. Prince Hyungwon arrives unexpectedly with a gift of special tea leaves.

Jeonghan looks up without being shocked. “You always show up when I’m trying to forget you.”

Hyungwon offers a faint smirk. “And you always say that while already having a second teacup ready.”

Jeonghan pours the hot water slowly. His hand is steady, but his shoulders are tense. He is still mending.

Hyungwon notices. “You’re not as untouchable as you pretend to be.”

Jeonghan answers quietly, “Then touch me, if you're bold enough.”

A moment passes. Long and heavy.

But Hyungwon does not act. He simply takes a sip of tea.

“I’d prefer to be the one who protects you when others close in.”

Jeonghan says, “And if the blade comes from you?”

Hyungwon responds softly, “Then I’ll make a clean cut.”

A soft breeze stirs the Begonia, and petals drift across the tea table. Jeonghan finally allows his voice to soften. “You always arrive too late.”

Hyungwon replies, “But I never walk away.”

They drink in silence. No touch. No revelations. Just the quiet tension of what might be, held back like a string yet to be strummed.

Seungcheol’s Study

Seungcheol and Jeonghan were in Seungcheol’s study, where the air was filled with the scent of molten metal and incense. Jeonghan stood by a workbench, observing Seungcheol as he cleaned the mechanism of the small crossbow. The lantern’s light flickered off the iron.

Seungcheol gently set the crossbow down, his fingers gliding over the trigger notch and the carved grooves. The firelight danced in his eyes.

Jeonghan remarked, “You polish it as if it’s a lover you’re scared to hold too tightly.”

Seungcheol replied without lifting his gaze, “If I made it for anyone else, I wouldn’t care if it misfired.”

Jeonghan tilted his head, half joking, half serious. “You say such things, yet I don’t have a keepsake from you. No jade. No vow. Just a weapon.”

Finally, Seungcheol looked up.

Their eyes locked.

He reached for something wrapped in a silk pouch and silently placed it in Jeonghan’s hand.

Inside was a hairpin shaped like a blossoming orchid—detailed, crafted from black jade and silver-stitched steel. Stylish. Concealed sharp points.

Seungcheol replied softly, “For you. As a safeguard.”

Jeonghan feels a lump in his throat. He remains silent, instead moving to the forge window. For a brief moment, he says nothing, only exhales.

Then, he responds in a quiet tone, “If you touch me now, I won’t hold back.”

Seungcheol remains completely motionless. After a moment, he takes a single step forward.

And gently, just his hand grazes Jeonghan’s, resting against the windowsill.

No kiss. No hug. Yet in that quietness, countless hidden promises ignite.

At this moment, Hyungwon arrives without warning but is halted by one of Seungcheol’s guards.

Seungcheol retorted sharply, “Let him through.”

Hyungwon entered, his robes soaked with rain, a flash of cold steel visible beneath his grin.

Hyungwon remarked with a sharp tone, “Still on guard, General? I guess Jeonghan can even make statues shift.”

Seungcheol does not respond.

Jeonghan remains composed behind the desk, glancing between them. He senses the brewing tension before the storm hits. He speaks softly, “Behave yourselves. I don’t want two dragons fighting.”

Hyungwon steps nearer, his stare fixed on Seungcheol. “Interesting how devoted men always show up last.”

Seungcheol answered sarcastically, “Interesting how some watch others suffer, then offer silk.”

Jeonghan rises. The mood changes. “That's enough.”

Both Alphas fall quiet.

Jeonghan turned to Seungcheol. “ I need help to protect myself from the others.”

Seungcheol replied, “Then we make the first move.”

Hyungwon’s eyes shifted to Jeonghan, then he spoke softly, “Or… we lure them out. You as bait. He and I are at your side. One knife in the light. One in the shadows.”

Jeonghan’s lips twisted into a cold smile. “I don’t need saving. I want them to burn.”

Outside, thunder roars. Inside, three figures stand in silence, Jeonghan situated between two Alphas who would risk their lives for him… and maybe even take lives for him, too.

Imperial Orchard Gardens

It was early spring at the Imperial Orchid Gardens. Petals drifted through the air like snowflakes. A refined poetry gathering was taking place under the blossoming trees, hosted by the Empress Dowager. Among the Omegas, Eunseo, dressed in soft green, as delicate as jade, was present. One of the Alphas was Choi Jungil, the Duke of North Seungcheol’s adopted son.

Choi Jungil was Seungcheol’s nephew from the first household of the Choi family.

They encountered each other by what seemed like coincidence. Eunseo extends her hand for a scroll that slips from her sleeves. A hand catches it before it can hit the floor. When she looks up, Jungil is observing her with a calm and courteous expression. However, his gaze holds a mixture of intention and desire.

"You compose verses about falling flowers, yet your essence embodies spring. "

Eunseo's smile grows. She has received many compliments, but this one feels genuine, like wine that has been perfectly aged.

Eunseo responds, "Yet you choose your words like a warrior selects weapons. A soldier’s allure. "

Jungil replies, "Or like a tactician, depending on the conflict at hand. "

A long silence ensues. The breeze ruffles the delicate fabrics of the gathering. Above, flower petals drift down.

In that instant, a seed is sown.

As the months go by, Jungil and Eunseo grow increasingly close. Through exchanged glances, shared secrets, and subtle touches of their wrists while passing scrolls, their connection intensifies. The rumors begin to circulate.

Eunseo is astute enough to realize Jungil's ambition; he is bold and unafraid to rise. Yet this doesn’t deter her. It draws her in. She plays the part of a damsel in distress skillfully, her eyes gentle and her smiles timid. However, Jungil is not deceived. He has seen wolves disguised as lambs before.

Still, he finds himself captivated. She does not cling like other omegas. She comprehends his silence, asks for nothing, yet offers him the chance to communicate. And when they converse in private, their discussions are not about poems or theatrics.

They speak of dominance.

Once, Jungil told Eunseo, “There is something within you… Something icy. Something I desire.”

Eunseo softly replied, “Then seize it. If you grant me the same in return.”

A few months later,

Late autumn arrives, and the court buzzes with rumors of Jungil’s proposal to Sung Eunseo, daughter of Duke Kim’s concubine.

Jeonghan reads the invitation with trembling hands.

The same name. The same seal. Once engaged to him, now seeking Eunseo instead.

Jeonghan glares at the parchment, his lips pressed tightly together.

He recalls the past life, the treachery, and the sword.

Seungcheol’s council room

Maps cover the walls. Outside, the light from the torches flickers as dusk settles in. Seungcheol is alone in his council room when Jeonghan walks in, his expression unreadable.

Jeonghan said with an accusatory tone, “You approved this.”

Seungcheol quietly replied, “He is my adopted son.”

Jeonghan exclaimed, “And she aimed to destroy me.” A lengthy pause follows.

Seungcheol states firmly, “You speak as though it’s something you’ve experienced before.”

Jeonghan remains silent, his hands unsteady beneath his sleeves.

Eventually, Seungcheol declares, “Should he harm her, I will take his life. If she harms him… I will still end his life.”

After a brief pause, he adds softly, “But if they hurt you again, Jeonghan… I will bring down the empire.”

In the concealed garden behind Jungil’s courtyard, Jungil and Eunseo encounter one another, their voices low.

“He remains unaware?” Eunseo inquired.

"Well, he's been observing me and hasn't taken any action yet," Jungil mentioned regarding Seungcheol.

"That's fine. Let him remain unaware for the time being," Eunseo responded.

Jungil placed her hand on his lips, but it wasn't a gesture of love; it symbolized their alliance.

"The Prince of Dingbei will act soon. The court is decaying. The general has become weak. Once it collapses… we will be the last standing," Eunseo declared with a grin.

"No. We will be the ones who ascend," Jungil countered.

Unbeknownst to them, outside the room, a figure lingered in the haze.

Observing. It was Jeonghan. He remained silent, a silent fury brewing beneath his skin like frost on plum tree branches.

This time, he would not be the victim of betrayal. This time, he would make the first move.

It was late evening in the ancestral hall of the Southern Duke’s estate. Incense spiraled in the soft glow. The scent in the air mingled sandalwood, dust, and ash. Jeonghan stood solitary before the ancestral tablets, clad in mourning white despite not attending a funeral.

The candle hissed as wax dripped down its side. Jeonghan's image danced in the brass prayer bowl. He had visited this place the night of his father's fall, in a past life, wearing a red robe soaked in blood, trembling as he witnessed the servants weeping. Even then, he felt no sorrow.

Only… something much chillier. The last element locking into place in the game was orchestrated by Eunseo and Jungil.

Now, the aroma of incense remained familiar. But this time, his father was still alive. For now.

Jeonghan reflected,

‘I never aimed to rescue him. He never desired a son like me, only a legacy he could manipulate. But I understand now… his passing was the initial trigger. Following that was the announcement of the disbandment of the Choi Army. Then came the news of Seungcheol's demise in an ambush in the mountains, orchestrated by the man who donned my ring and caressed my hair. So, I will save my father, not because I’ve forgiven him. But because I intend to uproot that destiny. And I want them to witness it all disintegrate, masquerading behind their smiles.’

He knelt before the tablets, his voice barely audible.

"You taught me nothing about love. Yet I have grasped power in your name. I will spare your life this time. That will be your enduring legacy."

Chapter Text

Sorry everyone this is to inform you that I may not be able to update this Wednesday, so you have to wait another week, I will be busy with other works. I am extremely sorry to inform you of this. But fear not because I will do either a longer update or double update. Once again I am really sorry to do this.

Chapter Text

Jeonghan sat beneath the lamplight, pen in hand, dictating encrypted orders to Seungkwan. Jeonghan scribbles on a silk scroll with firm strokes.

“Three guards from my father’s inner residence were replaced three days ago. Replace them again. Quietly.”

Seungcheol bowed.

Jeonghan paused for a moment and then said.

“Send a false report to the Minister of War. Let him think the northern passes will be left unguarded. I want to see who delivers that rumor to the Prince of Dingbei.”

“Yes, Hyung, I will do that.”

Jeonghan dipped his brush again.

The final letter is addressed to Duke Choi Seungcheol.

‘Watch the second Prince. He drinks too little and listens too much.’

And another to Jihoon.

‘Tell Abeoji his medicine must not be mixed with date seed oil again. There’s no poison yet, but there will be.’

Jeonghan was sitting on the lowered benches in the private garden. Snow has not yet fallen, but the trees were void of leaves. Jeonghan watched the gray sky. Suddenly he noticed his father, Duke Kim, approaching.

Jeonghan did not bow. His father says nothing at first. Only stands in front of him. After a long pause, he said coldly, “You’ve changed. You used to hide your eyes when you spoke.”

Jeonghan didn’t turn. “I had no reason to look anyone in the eye before.”

Duke Kim watched him for a moment then asked him a question, “And now?”

Jeonghan finally looked at him in a calm, collected gaze, “Now I look at the blade before it’s drawn.”

Another long silence followed, then the older man said gruffly, “I heard you've reassigned my guards without permission.”

“You’re welcome. Abeoji.”

Both of them stayed silent beneath the bare tree without any reconciliation, only the silence encompassed them.

But for the first time they were standing on the same side of the snow-covered earth.

Few Days Later

Seungcheol’s private study

Candles burned low in heavy brass sconces, Jeonghan stood by the brazier, hands behind his back.

The scent of iron and pinewood filled the room. The brazier glows, casting flickering light across Jeonghan’s face. He looks pale and ethereal, like a spirit come to deliver warning.

Seungcheol entered quietly, removing his gloves, but his eyes never left Jeonghan. The tension that always lies beneath their interactions coils tighter tonight.

Seungcheol said in a calm voice.“You sent a message marked urgent. Are you in danger?”

Jeonghan said calmly, “I’m always in danger. Tonight, so are you.”

Seungcheol paused for a moment, then said nothing, but his eyes narrowed.

Jeonghan walked to the center of the room and unrolled a small parchment across the Seungcheol’s desk. On it lied a map of the imperial city with five red markings along administrative roads and back gates.

Jeonghan said. “Five guards were replaced this month, none through formal records. Three oversee gate access during night transitions. One controls grain passes from the northern border. The fifth… is your man.”

Seungcheol replied quietly, “…You’ve been investigating my garrison?”

Jeonghan said calmly,“No. I’ve been investigating your enemies.”

Seungcheol stepped closer, slowly. “And who do you believe these enemies serve?”

Jeonghan replied in a low voice, “Prince of Dingbei.”

A long silence followed. When Seungcheol spoke up, “Why now? Why are you doing this, Jeonghan? You've never cared for the court’s wars.”

Jeonghan softly replied, “Because I know what needs to be done when.”

His voice faltered there, just slightly. But it’s enough to make Seungcheol take one more step toward him.

Their eyes locked. And though Jeonghan said no more, the weight of something hidden presses into the silence between them.

Jeonghan said, “Help me root out Dingbei’s spies before the spring session. Or the empire burns from within.”

Seungcheol watched him for a long moment, “You sound dangerous.”

Jeonghan smiled faintly. His voice trembled, not with fear, but the weight of all he could not say.

“Is that what you believe?”

Seungcheol paused for a moment.

“No. I believe you're more dangerous now than I’ve ever known. And I would follow that danger if it meant saving what’s left of us.”

Jeonghan exhaled. Something in his chest was tight and terrible, but it loosened, just slightly.

He does not touch Seungcheol’s hand. He does not confess the truth that sits like a stone behind his ribs. Yet he feels comfort in it.

House of Tranquil Pleasure

It was the inner chamber of House of Tranquil Pleasure, nestled at the edge of the royal hunting grounds. The building, veiled by bamboo and incense smoke, is often used for illicit liaisons and unsanctioned commerce. Tonight, it's carved screens conceal far more dangerous secrets.

A lantern sways in the smoke-laced dark. The air is thick with perfume and cold. Outside, the sound of silk rustling and false laughter echoes, courtesans hired to provide the illusion of innocence.

But in the central room, guarded by two silent eunuchs in red, three silhouettes sit beneath a hanging scroll of mountain storms.

At the head, dressed in simple black robes and a fur-lined cloak, sits Prince of Dingbei.

To his right Sung Eunseo, veiled in gossamer white, face partly hidden by her embroidered fan.

To his left Choi Jungil, robes dark, expression cool, fingers tapping lightly on a lacquered table. His ring gleams, an old sigil.

Prince of Dingbei said idly, “You’ve taken to her well, young master Choi. I worried her thorns might pierce too deep.”

Choi Jungil replied, “Better the thorn I choose than the dagger I don’t see coming.”

Eunseo lowered her fan, her smile delicate as spider silk. “I do not cut without reason. And I’ve only bled for men who didn’t deserve it.”

Prince of Dingbei spoke up, “Then let’s speak of those who do.”

He leans forward. “Jeonghan lives. Stronger than expected. His father walks with him now. That is… inconvenient.”

Eunseo replied, “He is watching the grain routes. He’s already replaced several guards. And Seungcheol is moving again. Too smoothly to be a coincidence.”

Jungil said, “Jeonghan is clever. But he won’t act without proof. He needs something to strike with and he doesn’t know who holds the blade yet.”

Prince of Dingbei said coldly, “But he will soon. Which is why we must move faster.”

He produces a scroll, stamped with the emblem of the Ministry of Rites.

“In ten days, the imperial court holds the Festival of Renewal. We’ll use the performance night to deliver two things—”

He pointed at Eunseo.

“You will ensure the Dowager requests Jeonghan present a poem. Something public. Visible.”

He turned to Jungil, “You’ll provide the guest list. I want every outer-court minister who still whispers loyalty to Seungcheol seated in that chamber.”

Choi Jungil nodded once.

Then Eunseo spoke softly, “And Jeonghan?”

Prince of Dingbei spoke up after a pause, “Let him dance. Let him bask in his cleverness. Then we’ll set his stage on fire.”

As the lantern flickered low, shadows curled across their faces—each cloaked in stillness, ambition, and the scent of old blood never washed clean.

Outside, a white fox howled.

Inside, a kingdom’s downfall begins to rise like fog.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol were in Seungcheol’s courtyard, The festival of renewal was just ten days away; they sparred with wooden blades without armor and audience.

Jeonghan moved with a grace that’s sharpened since his return to the past. He’s leaner now, more focused, blade slicing through the air like a whip of shadow.

Seungcheol parries, sweat glinting at his brow, but he’s watching Jeonghan, not his weapon, not his form, but his face.

Seungcheol said gruffly, “You’re restless.”

Jeonghan breathlessly said, “I’m preparing.”

They paused as blades locked.

Seungcheol asked him, “For the festival?”

Jeonghan replied, “For a fire disguised as celebration.”

They broke apart. Jeonghan circled.

Jeonghan replied, “They’ll want to embarrass me. Or corner me. They’ll want to put a crack in the court’s image of me. One misstep, one heat-triggered slip, one false whisper, and I become a painted puppet. Or worse.”

Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed.

Seungcheol said, “They won’t touch you. Not while I still draw breath.”

Jeonghan’s smile is faint, not in disbelief, but something almost more dangerous than the ache of hope.

“And after you fall?”

He lunged. This time, Seungcheol doesn’t block.

The wooden blade stops just short of his throat. Seungcheol does not flinch.

Seungcheol said, “Then I’ll fall in front of you. Not behind.”

They stood in silence. The only sound is the wind in the leaves. Later, Seungcheol takes a scroll from his sleeves. “I had this made.”

He unrolled it, it was a map of the Festival Hall, showing secret servant corridors, shadowed balconies, entry points near incense altars.

“If you’re to stand in the light… then I’ll stand in the dark.”

Jeonghan says nothing. But he takes the scroll and traces the lines with a fingertip.

Jeonghan was looking over letters, financial logs, and guard rotations. The household was asleep, candlelight flickered slowly. Something is wrong. Very wrong.

A scroll has been misdated. Not once. Twice.

The records show a resupply to the incense storage chamber for the Festival, but the same storage had already been filled three days earlier. And the delivery was signed not by one of his men… but by a name he hasn’t heard in months.

“Fu Rong.”

A minor aide from his father’s household. Someone who died mysteriously in his past life… just days before the rebellion began.

In the last life Fu Rong was diligent, and loyal in the last life, so Jeonghan promoted him, but it was Fu Rong who lit the first match. Jeonghan thought he was so naïve to believe such a man.

He rises from the desk, heart steady but breath cold.

Footsteps are heard behind him. But Jeonghan doesn’t turn.

Jeonghan said to Seungkwan quietly, “Wake Jihoon. Tell him to bring the medical register.”

Seungkwan bowed and agreed.

Jeonghan whispered, “Tell no one else. Not even the guards. We may already be bleeding from within.”

Jeonghan stood at the open window, looking down at the snow-covered courtyard. Plum Blossom fell, filling the snow-covered courtyard. And Jeonghan’s eyes, once full of fire, now glow with ice. Jeonghan was now the one who holds the puppet’s strings.

Few Days Later

Imperial Palace,

Festival of Renewal

 A vast golden hall was filled in lanterns, plum blossoms, and the scent of sandalwood.  Hundreds of eyes looked at Jeonghan. And in the middle of the courtyard Jeonghan stood at the Dais, ready to offer his prayers.

The courtyard gleamed with nobles, every flick of a fan held meaning. Ministers sat in an orderly manner before the Emperor. Behind gauze curtains, the Empress Dowager watched from her elevated seat, expression unreadable.

Jeonghan stood at the center, wearing ceremonial red robes, embroidered with phoenix at the hem in gold thread. He looked composed, ethereal… but not fragile.

To those who wanted him to fail, like Prince Dingbei, Eunseo, Jungil, he was bait. But they underestimated the sharpness of the trap he’d laid.

Behind him, three incense censers released a faint, sweet scent. Delicate. Faintly spiced. It was too faint.

Seungcheol frowned, his fingers tightened around the hilt hidden inside his sleeve. It wasn’t sandalwood, it was an aphrodisiac used to trigger Omega heat.

On the dais, Jeonghan bowed slightly and began to recite.

“Let us not forget, let us remember with clarity, even with wounds and blood, we need to rise.” His voice was calm and controlled.

But beneath the surface, heat began unnaturally and agonizingly.

It was happening. Again. The same sensation from the previous attempt, the sharpness in his skin, the trembling behind his spine, the heat climbing up his neck. But this time, he was prepared. He finished the final lines without wavering, then stepped back.

The room erupted in murmured admiration, nothing amiss on the surface.

High above, the Empress Dowager’s fan paused for a second. Seungcheol moved in a practiced manner.

And at the altar, a small vial fell silently from a servant’s sleeve. One of Seungcheol’s guards caught it midair.

The servant paled and his face went white.

Jeonghan clutched his sleeve tightly, inside laid a small cooling pouch made by Jihoon to suppress his heat. Seungcheol whistled, a signal to his hidden soldiers. Eunseo’s smile fainted a bit, Jungil’s eyes narrowed, noticing that Jeonghan showed no sign of heat.

Ministry of Justice

Midnight

Jeonghan stood in the middle cloaked in fur, opposite him, tied to a post and gagged was Fu Rong, the servant who put the first nail in a dynasty’s coffin. The room is silent but the agonizing sound of water dripping down remained Cold and unforgiving.

Fu Rong kneeled. Blood crusted one corner of his mouth, but his eyes remain defiant.

Jeonghan stepped forward, quiet, expression unreadable.

“You replaced the incense. I smelled the oil as I stepped onto the dais.”

No reply came, just the sound of ragged breathing.

Jeonghan crouched to Fu Rong’s level.

“Who told you to do that?’

“You should have suffered as you should, alas you didn’t suffer.” Fu Rong said in a hoarse voice.

Jeonghan’s hand snapped forward, grabbing his jaw. Not to strike but to force him to meet his gaze. “Who told you that?”

Fu Rong stayed silent, which made Soonyoung whip him once more, resulting in Fu Rong being forced to speak.

 “The Prince and the Choi heir said to use the oil.”

Jeonghan rose up, his face has gone pale, his fury hidden behind practiced movement.

“And who else?”

No answer came. Jeonghan turned to Soonyoung, who waited silently near the door.

“Don’t kill him. Not yet. We need to gather more information from him.

As Jeonghan left the cell, the wind howled outside, cold and sharp. He walked out into the night, lit only by torchlight. The spider has been found. Now it was time to tear down its web.

Eastern Courtyard of the Duke Kim Residence

The sunlight filtered through gauze curtains, catching on the porcelain wind chimes as they sing a quiet tune. The household is alive not with formality or palace dread, but the rare, domestic rhythm of family.

Jeonghan sat cross-legged on a low divan, sleeves rolled up to help Lady Lee and his mother tie dumpling and make glutinous rice balls for the festival. His hands are clumsy compared to theirs.

Lady Yoon chuckled, "Angel, that one looks more creature than dumpling."

Jeonghan said in a mock serious tone,"I call it the emperor’s regret. An acquired taste."

Besides them Lady Lee chuckled softly.

Across the courtyard, Seungkwan and Migyu flied paper kites shaped like dragons and phoenixes. Children run barefoot over the stepping stones, laughing as they shouted riddles at one another.

Joshua lounged nearly sipping tea slowly, while Jihoon sat with a book open but unread. Even Junhui and Minghao relaxed, sipping plum tea in the shade.

Joshua softly said, “The palace has not crushed you completely yet, Hanie. There’s color back in your cheeks."

Jeonghan smiled softly, "It’s just the rice flour. I survive on laughter and gossip.”

Jisoo replied with a chuckle.

Minghao said in a gruff voice, "And secrets. Don’t pretend your smile isn’t hiding twenty of them."

Jeonghan grinned in a teasing manner, "Only twenty?"

The servants begun setting out trays of candied fruits, sesame cakes, roasted nuts  all for tonight’s festival. The air smelled like nostalgia. For a few precious hours, it felt as though they lived outside the empire’s reach.

Later that evening, cloaked in deep indigo, Jeonghan slipped out of the estate gate. He doesn’t go alone, Seungkwan, Minghao and Junhui followed him closely, Seungkwan sporting a mischievous grin and tossing Jeonghan a packet of fire crackers.

Suddenly Jeonghan stopped noticing a Shadow from the alley nearby, Seungcheol stepped out from the alley, "Escaping your own home? Or planning a revolution?"

"Both. But you’ll forgive me, won’t you, General?" Jeonghan teased.

Seungkwan and the others smirked and vanished into the crowd. Left alone, Jeonghan and Seungcheol blended in with the festival of chaos.

They explored the bustling night market together, a hidden world painted in red silk and golden light.

Jeonghan noticed a stall for Catching lanterns, Jeonghan insisted he can win. He tried three times before finally catching a single one, triumphant, his cheeks flushed with laughter.

Seungcheol teased,

"You’d make a terrible soldier, but an adorable gambler."

As they move through the market they arrived on a stall selling snacks like, sticky rice cakes on skewers, flame-grilled lotus root, and skewered hawthorn berries. Jeonghan accidentally dropped sugar syrup on his robe and scowls. "This was silk from Jiangnan!"

Seungcheol wiped it off gently, "Then let it bear sweet memories."

Nearby they heard a group of travelling musicians playing music, Jeonghan emboldened by sweet wine, joined the young children into a mismatched dance. Seungcheol just watched him, eyes soft and distant, as if memorizing him.

A mask-seller convinces them to try masks, he suggested a rabbit mask for Jeonghan and a wolf for Seungcheol. They wear the masks and pose.

Finally, they arrive at the riverbank where couples and families are lighting sky lanterns.

They buy one. Seungcheol hands over the ink brush. Jeonghan thinks long. Then writes only one word, ‘hope’.

Seungcheol leaned in, "You once told me you didn’t believe in happy endings."

Jeonghan replied quietly, "I still don’t. But... for once, I’d like to be wrong."

They release the lantern. It rose up, slow and graceful, into the sky, soon joined by a thousand others, like fireflies made of dreams.

Seungcheol took his hand softly.

They walked back into the lantern-lit crowd hand-in-hand. As fireworks bloomed in the sky, it’s unclear which lights are brighter, the ones above, or the ones between them.

Secret room in Prince Dingbei’s mansion

Lit only by oil lamps, the room was heavy with conspiracy. Three figures sat in a triangle, Lady Eunseo, Jeonghan’s half-sister. Choi Jungil, Seungcheol’s nephew, and heir, and Grand Tutor Pei, the old prime minister who controlled the court.

Eunseo pours wine delicately, and murmured,

"He always was a favorite. Even before he could speak, they looked at him as if he were the sun. But even sun could burn out."

Choi Jungil smirked, “Wasn’t he supposed to be mine once, now he sticks with my uncle without shame. How unfortunate! If he and my uncle think that they can save themselves and this empire, they would be wrong.”

Grand Tutor Pei said, "Poetry has no place in war. What matters is who survives the fall."

They leaned over a map. Pins mark border territories. Drought-stricken provinces.

Grand Tutor said, "The Emperor is weakening. His court is split. If Prince of Dingbei rises with the north, and my lady secures the inner court..."

He glanced towards Eunseo. "...Jeonghan will be cornered. With him, the Northern Duke."

Eunseo grinned, "He’ll finally learn what it feels like to be forgotten."

The next day, court is called to a surprise morning assembly. The Emperor was absent citing “ill health.” The Prime Minister presided over the court.

Jeonghan entered with grace, every step measured. The room quieted down. A scroll is read aloud by the Prime Minister.

"By the Emperor’s decree. In light of the unrest in the northern provinces and the need for a solid alliance, a royal betrothal is to be revived between the House of Kim and the Northern Duke’s household."

Gasps echoed throughout the hall. Jeonghan’s eyes widened. He looked toward the General across the marble floor.

"Your excellency, I—" Jeonghan’s expression remained calm, but his hands trembled behind his sleeves.

The Prime Minister stopped him, "Peace demands sacrifice, my dear child. Do you mean to defy your sovereign’s will?"

The court watched in frozen silence. Seungcheol’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He couldn’t.

Begonia Garden

Duke Kim’s House

That Night

Jeonghan stood beneath a dead peony tree, hands clenched.

Seungcheol entered quietly, "Say the word, and I’ll take you far from this place. I’ll burn down the empire, I will abandon…"

Jeonghan cut him off, "And then what? We run? Let my sister rise on the ashes of my fall? Let your nephew crown himself in your blood?"

His voice cracked, not with fear, but fury.

"No, Alpha. We do not run. We return the blade. If they want rebellion..."

He turned slowly. "...Then let us show them how an omega builds an empire."

Eunseo received words from a spy, learning secrets from the Grand Archives, she now held power to even control Prince of Dingbei, the Emperor’s uncle. In the meantime, Choi Jungil met up with Northern Kingdom’s envoy in secret to gather help from them for their next plan.

                                    On the other hand Seungcheol, ordered Dokyeom and Wonwoo to replace and  reshuffle troops near the capital without alerting the court. Jeonghan in the mean time, made himself aware of ancient tunnels running throughout the city and made Minghao and Junhui scout those tunnels.

Orchid Courtyard

Lady Eunseo, veiled in moonlight, sat in front of a small lacquered box. She opened it slowly. Inside was a single hairpin twisted silver and worn jade. It belonged to her mother.

"My mother was never given a title. Just a room, and a bed, and a promise Father never kept."

Flashback – 15 Years Ago

It was a cold winter day. A young Eunseo stood outside the courtyard, her hands numb from the cold, yet Jeonghan was sitting inside the warm hall, playing guqin beautifully even as a young boy,  the nobles around him cooed over him.

Eunseo’s mother spoke up from the side, "They will never love you like they love him. You were never wanted by your father, they will never love you like they do."

Back to present

Eunseo closed the box. Her voice hardened.

"You had everything handed to you, Oppa, beauty, and favour. Even the one man, who I wanted yet couldn’t have him.”

She walked toward her private war map. Pins now marked not only political targets but Jeonghan’s known allies.

"Let me show you how this unwanted daughter remakes the world."

Magnolia Courtyard

Jeonghan slept restlessly. A fever dream took him to a place, not of present but of the past life.

It was Duke Kim’s courtyard. In the ceremonial hall Jeonghan kneeled before Choi Jungil, Duke Choi’s heir. They exchanged jade pendants under the watch of Duke Kim.

Jeonghan spoke up softly, "You don’t have to pretend. I know you don’t want this."

Jungil smiled faintly, "I never pretend. I only plan."

Days turned into months of secret meetings, laughter shared in moonlit courtyards. For a moment, Jeonghan believed it might be real.

Then came the coup, the whole of Duke Kim’s mansion was killed and Jeonghan died in his own hands.

Jeonghan jolted up.

Seungkwan rushed in, "You were crying in your sleep, Hyung."

Jeonghan looked at his hands, and thought to himself, "He remembers nothing. But I do."

He rose up from the bed and lighted a single incense stick.

He thought to himself, ‘I am prepared now, let me see what he wants to do now.’

Seungcheol gathered information and soon learned of Prince of Dingbei’s plots which resulted in him assigning loyal commanders around the Imperial palace.

Eunseo on the other hand couldn’t accept the marriage decree, she decided that she had to do something. Which resulted in her contacting her mother’s trusted ally, she sneaked into the archival room of the Southern Duke’s mansion and stole the records of Marriage betrothal and took it away.

Minghao arrived soon and informed Jeonghan about her doings, Jeonghan didn’t reply, just smiled a little and sipped his tea, “Well I do not have to do anything, she herself will remove the thorn in my path. That is good.”

“Do not stop her, follow her and monitor what she does.”

Eunseo changed the records into making her the original one who was supposed to be betrothed.

She decided to move with it, and produce it to the court but in secrecy using the Duke and demanding her position. Duke Kim couldn’t do anything else beside help her and soon the courts had to change Jeonghan’s name with Eunseo as the records showed her as the person originaaly intended to marry the Northern Duke’s heir.

Eunseo was overjoyed when she got the news and couldn’t stop smiling, but she knew she had to maintain her posture and make it seem like Jeonghan was the one who changed the marriage candidate with their father’s help.

“It was not my decision Lord Prime Minister, it was my Oppa who manipulated father to change the betrothal candidate.” Eunseo said in a false humility.

“Alas, we can’t change the past! I understand, now looking at the brighter part, you being so close only means more help form your side.” the Prime Minister said shaking his head.

“Off course, I would do my most to help you and Prince of Dingbei.” Eunseo said while bowing to the Prime Minister.

Seungcheol’s private informant group, Cicada, intercepted Jungil’s secret letter correspondence with the enemy country promising land and gold in exchange for military alliance.

Jeonghan read it, hand tightening. "This is no longer just palace games. They want a war."

He looked at the Seungcheol.

Seungcheol replied, "Then let us give them one, one that they cannot win."

In a secluded pavilion near the back hills of the Southern Duke’s estate. The world outside was unravelling, with rebellion, betrayal, and looming war. But here, the crickets sing, and the wind plays with the bamboo chimes.

Jeonghan sat with Hyungwon, sipping warm osmanthus wine. They’ve just finished an evening of strategy, drafting scrolls and maps.

Prince Hyungwon dressed in scholar’s white, watched Jeoghan with soft eyes.

"You always forget to eat when you’re angry."

"Am I angry?" Jeonghan said absently.

Hyungwon replied, "You’re like a river calm on the surface, but can turn into something else when flooded. I know you well.”

Jeonghan laughed softly, the sound dry and tired. "Always so poetic, Prince. Do you ever speak plainly?"

Hyungwon placed a peach blossom on the table between them.

Prince of Beiping, Hyungwon paused for a moment and then said.

 "I would follow you anywhere, Jeonghan. Even into ruin. Even into fire."

Jeonghan stilled. His eyes didn’t meet Hyungwon’s gaze.

"I know." Jeonghan said softly.

Both of them stayed silent for a long time. The night deepened, somewhere, a lantern floated up into the sky, its light distant, flickering.

"In another life... maybe I would’ve loved you first." Jeonghan said softly.

Hyungwon said, "But you don’t."

Jeonghan honestly said, "No. I think I’ve always seen you as someone who is family. I always think of you like a brother."

Hyungwon’s face remained still, but his hands tightened briefly around the cup. Then he smiled a broken, beautiful smile and said softly, "Then let me be your home. Even if you never stay."

Jeonghan finally looked at him. And reached out, placing a hand over the Prince’s hands.

"Thank you... for loving me the way you do. It saved me more than you’ll ever know."

"Then that is enough." Hyungwon said gracefully.

Later That Night

As Hyungwon watched Jeonghan leave, the wind blew harder. The peach blossom he placed earlier drifted off the table and landed in his lap.

He didn’t move.

"Some loves aren’t meant to happen, but still they happen and they stay." Hyungwon said quietly.

That night Hyungwon entered a narrow corridor beneath the palace archives, lined with moldy scrolls and dust-covered stone. Few knew of this place and fewer dare walk it.

Hyungwon stood in a scholar’s robe, but hidden beneath were weapons. A guard kneeled before him, bloodied, holding a parchment.

"Intercepted near the northern watchtower. Bearing Prince of Dingbei’s seal."

Hyungwon took the scroll, unsealed it with care. His eyes narrowed.

"He’s moving troops. Disguised as relief convoys. He means to cut off the supply line to the General Choi’s southern garrison." Hyungwon said to himself.

He rolled it again and turned.

"Send this to Cicada. Jeonghan must not see this until it’s confirmed. He’s already carrying too much."

Palace Records Room – Days Later

Countless ledgers filled the room, ledgers which helped in shaping the empire.

Hyungwon, greeted an old acquaintance a Palace Accountant, a meek, twitchy man named Gong Shun.

"Old friend. How long has it been since we played chess together?"

"You never play unless you’re going to trap me." Gong Shun said nervously.

Hyungwon smiled. "Correct. Now tell me how much silver was rerouted from the Inner Treasury under Lady Eunseo’s authorization."

Gong Shun freezed up. "That record is sealed. I could be exiled—"

Hyungwon finished his words. "Or killed, if the rebellion succeeds."

Both of them paused for a moment

"Choose carefully, Gong Shun. You might die either way."

Midnight in the Begonia Garden

Jeonghan entered the private garden. A candle burned low, and beside it, a sealed letter lay with Hyungwon’s seal.

He opened it. His eyes flickered as he read the contents details of troop movements, silver transfers, coded names of Eunseo’s agents, and most crucially a list of execution orders forged  in Empress Dowager’s handwriting.

At the bottom Hyungwon wrote, “You told me you saw me as a brother. Brothers do not ask for anything in return. They shelter. They endure.

--Hyungwon.”

Jeonghan placed a hand on the paper. His voice was almost a whisper.

"Why do you always leave before I can thank you..."

It was a moonless night near the northern border. A convoy rode silently under Prince of  Dingbei’s sigil.

Hidden beneath a dark cloak, Hyungwon watched from a cliff. In his hand was a  fire arrow, a single whisper left his lips "For him."

He fired the convoy erupts into flames. Horses scream, chaos broke out.

But Hyungwon didn’t wait to be seen. He vanished back into the trees.

The Lotus House

Few Days Later

It was a closed courtesan residence in the capital, famous for its poetry nights and discreet patrons.

A body was found, drained of blood, eyes wide open, a strange sigil carved into the chest.

Lord Soonyoung arrived at the scene, expression grim, boots silent on the blood-slicked floor.

"Same symbol. That makes five." Soonyoung said grimly.

The madam sobbed."He came in smiling. Said he wanted to recite a poem. Then, then…"

Soonyoung cut her off and turned to the body. A young inspector squirmed.

"There’s something... odd. About the incisions. Precise. Almost surgical." Soonyoung told the inspector.

Soonyoung ordered, "Send for the Second Young master of Duke Kim’s estate. Call for Young Master Jihoon, the one who studied under the imperial physician Tan."

Jihoon arrived, cloaked in white, eyes calm like winter water. Despite the grimness, he bows with grace.

"I heard of the murders, but I did not think I’d be called." Jihoon said softly.

"You were trained in medicine, weren’t you?" Soonyoung replied.

Jihoon kneeled beside the body, studying the wounds.

"This wasn’t a killing. It was a message. The sigil, it’s an old military cipher. I saw it once... in hyung’s war journals." Jihoon said.

Soonyoung freezed. "You’re saying these murders tie to the military?"

Jihoon replied quietly. "Or someone who wants us to think so."

Both paused for a moment. Their eyes met each other unexpectedly, there is no clash. Just understanding and an unspoken thread connects them.

Through a series of autopsies, late-night investigations, Jihoon and Soonyoung begin working closely, reluctantly at first. The tension kept on  growing  as something professional, personal, and something else unspoken.

One night, caught in a downpour while visiting a witness who flees into the forest, Soonyoung wraps his cloak over Jihoon instinctively.

"You dislike me less now?" Jihoon teased.

Soonyoung gruffed, "You’re still infuriating. But you think like a hawk and  I trust that."

They arrive back at the Ministry soaked, only to find a sealed order from the palace,

“Cease investigation of the Lotus House Murders. The matter is closed.”

"They’re burying it." Soonyoung grumbled.

"No... They’re protecting someone." Jihoon replied.

But as they secretly keep on investigating, they uncover something damning, the sigil used in the murders once belonged to the elite Dingbei Shadow Corps, disbanded after the failed rebellion a generation ago.

Jihoon started to piece together the victim profiles. Each one was linked, informants, ex-soldiers, physicians who served under Prince of Dingbei during the border wars.

"He’s silencing his past. Removing those who could reveal something buried." Jihoon said.

"We’re not dealing with just a murderer. We’re dealing with a prince building a throne from blood." Soonyoung replied.

As they kept on investigating , Prince of Dingbei grew more and more suspicious, and decided to silence him once and for all.

 Jihoon was attacked near the temple archives after visiting an old war medic. Soonyoung finds him, bloodied but alive, hidden in the crypt hall of incense.

"You should have waited for me." Soonyoung said furiously.

Jihoon replied weakly, with a wry smile, "You never said you cared."

Soonyoung picked him up carefully, voice raw. "I don’t care about a lot of things. But you, I’m trying not to."

Jihoon, still healing, pieced together a final connection, Prince of  Dingbei used medical experiments on prisoners testing toxins and nerve-cutting techniques and these murders mirror those methods.

Soonyoung wanted to confront him directly but Jihoon stopped him and told him,

"We can’t go through the palace. We go through the truth."

They prepared a dossier signed witness accounts, copied records, medical findings and secretly passed it to Jeonghan and Cicada, who prepared to leak it through underground scholars.

Plum Blossom Courtyard

Jihoon stood under a plum tree, while Soonyoung gazed at him from across the courtyard.

Soonyoung thought to himself, ‘He moves like a whisper. Gentle. Precise. But I have seen how his mind cuts cleaner than any sword.’

On the other hand Jihoon thought to himself, ‘He carries duty like armor. But beneath it... he is lonelier than I ever was.’

Both of them turn at the same time catching each other’s eyes.

Nothing is spoken. But everything is known.

A torrential rain lashes the veranda of the Duke’s estate. Thunder rumbled softly in the distance. Both men stand soaked, their breaths visible in the cold air.

Soonyoung found Jihoon leaning against a pillar, eyes fixed on the darkened sky.

"This storm... it’s relentless." Soonyoung said softly.

Jihoon didn’t answer right away. He glanced at Soonyoung, water dripping from his hair, eyes reflecting the lightning.

"Sometimes the storm is quieter inside than outside." Jihoon replied in almost whisper.

They stood close, the noise of rain around them fading into silence.

Without a word, Soonyoung stepped forward and lets his hand brush lightly over Jihoon’s. The touch lingered.

Jihoon’s fingers twitched, and then he closed the small distance between them, resting his hand briefly atop Soonyoung’s.

Their eyes met each other no promises made, no declarations spoken just a deep, mutual understanding.

Soonyoung’s jaw relaxed for the first time in days, and Jihoon smiled faintly.

"We face the storm. Together." Soonyoung said softly.

Jihoon nodded once, resolutely.

They stood side by side, shoulders nearly touching, letting the rain wash away everything they can’t say.

Duke Choi’s Courtyard

The room was lit dimly by flickering lanterns. A massive map of the northern borders laid sprawled across the table, dotted with markers and notes.

Jeonghan stood at the head, his gaze sharp and steady. Seungcheol leaned over the map, fingers tracing routes. Jihoon and Soonyoung stood side by side slightly behind, observing, listening.

"Prince of Dingbei’s forces have been restless. The supply lines near the western pass are vulnerable. We cannot afford another ambush." Jeonghan said looking at the map.

Seungcheol nodded. "We’ll fortify the outposts and set traps along the mountain trails. But we need intelligence on troop movements and the poison that’s been used."

Jihoon stepped forward, voice calm but firm.

"The poison matches samples I’ve studied from the victims, it disrupts the nervous system within minutes, leaving no trace in normal autopsies. We’ll need to train our medics to recognize and treat it quickly."

"I’ve dispatched trusted investigators to monitor suspect movements near the border villages. We believe they’re connected to Prince of Dingbei’s faction."

Soonyoung added, glancing at Jihoon briefly, a small but meaningful look passing between them.

Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed, impressed.

“Good, you have proven yourself Jihoonie.”

Everyone studied the map.

"Young master Lee, Soonyoung, your insights have saved lives already. Continue your work discreetly. The palace shadows are long, and enemies may strike from within." Seungcheol replied.

Jihoon exchanged a glance with Soonyoung. Neither spoke aloud, but the weight of the moment settles on them.

Jihoon nodded, "We understand."

Jeonghan clapped his hands once.

"Prepare. Tonight, we move forward, for the empire, and for the truth." Jeonghan said.

The group disperses, but Jihoon and Soonyoung remained a step behind, silent allies bound by more than duty.

A narrow alley near the merchant district

Moonlight filtered through a veil of mist. The faint scent of spices and smoke lingered. Jihoon crouched near a discarded cloak, examining the fabric with delicate fingers. Soonyoung stood guard nearby, eyes sharp and alert.

"The fibers, imported silk. Not something common in this district." Jihoon said quietly.

Soonyoung stepped closer, scanning the rooftops. "Someone of status passed through here recently. Watch for traps." Soonyoung said firmly.

Jihoon nodded, pulling a small vial from his pouch and carefully collecting a faint smear on the ground.

They moved together Jihoon leading with careful, precise movements, Soonyoung followed behind, ready to intervene without a word.

Suddenly, a faint rustle was heard, a figure darted from the shadows, clutching a bloodstained letter. Soonyoung lunged, catching the person with swift grace, while Jihoon quickly retrieves the letter.

The prisoner snarls but does not resist fiercely.

"Who sent you?" Soonyoung questioned.

No answer came. Jihoon kneeled, gently opening the letter. His eyes narrowed.

"It’s a warning… The prince’s network is tighter than we thought."

Soonyoung’s grip tightened on the prisoner, then relaxed as Jihoon studied the writing.

They exchanged a look, there was no need for words.

Soonyoung signaled a silent command, and Jihoon nodded, slipping the letter carefully into his pouch.

"Back to the safe house. We need to analyze this." Soonyoung said softly.

Jihoon stood up, brushing dirt from his sleeves.

As they disappear into the mist, their steps fell into perfect rhythm, partners bound by duty, trust, and that unspoken connection. They arrived in a small, dimly lit room stacked with scrolls and medicinal herbs. A single lantern flickered on a wooden table where Soonyoung and Jihoon sat close, poring over the bloodstained letter.

Jihoon’s slender fingers traced the ink, careful, precise. "This cipher… it’s important. Used by the Dingbei Shadow Corps for secret orders."

Soonyoung leaned in, impatient but focused.

"What does it say? Speak plainly."

Jihoon bit his lip, hesitating, cheeks faintly flushed.

"It warns of an upcoming attack on the border. The prince plans to strike under the cover of the harvest moon."

Soonyoung’s eyes flashed. "Then we have little time."

Jihoon nodded, shoulders tense, the weight of the news heavy.

A sudden crash from outside startled them, the door bursted open, palace guards loyal to Dingbei flood in.

Soonyoung immediately moved to shield Jihoon, shoving him behind the table as swords flash.

Soonyoung shouted, "Stay down!"

Jihoon’s heart raced, breath shallow. He watched Soonyoung fight fiercely, loud, commanding, an unstoppable force.

Suddenly, a blade grazed Soonyoung’s side. He staggered, pain sharp and raw.

Jihoon’s eyes widened. Without thinking, he rushed forward, gripping Soonyoung’s bleeding arm, trembling.

Jihoon’s voice broke, barely audible, "Don’t... don’t leave me."

Soonyoung froze, pain and shock mixing with something deeper in his eyes.

He grabbed Jihoon’s hand firmly, loud but fierce. "I’m not going anywhere. Not without you." He said growling.

Jihoon’s breath hitched, tears threatened to fall. "I— I’m afraid…" Jihoon’s voice trembled.

"Me too. But we face it. Together." Soonyoung replied resoulotely.

Their eyes locked, breath mingling in the chaos. The room felt suddenly still, their feelings breaking free amid the danger.

Soonyoung pulled Jihoon close, voice raw and urgent. "I love you. Always have."

Jihoon’s cheeks flushed deeper, but he nodded, barely able to speak. "I love you too." Jihoon replied shyly.

As guards closed in, they clasped their hands.

The safe house erupted into chaos as palace guards pressed in. Soonyoung, despite the bleeding wound, moved swiftly, pulling Jihoon behind a heavy tapestry that hid a narrow secret passage.

"This way. Can you keep up?" Soonyoung gritted his teeth.

Jihoon nodded, clutching Soonyoung’s hand tightly, their fingers entwined, an anchor amidst the storm.

The passage is dark and cramped, Jihoon’s breath hitched both from fear and the pounding of his heart. "I’m... here. With you." Jihoon said softly.

Soonyoung squeezed his hand, voice fierce but quiet. "And I won’t let go. Not ever."

They emerged outside into a cold rain, the night swallowing them. Soonyoung supported Jihoon’s weight more than he expected but his hold never faltered.

Moonlight filtered through the leaves. Jihoon tended to Soonyoung’s wound with trembling hands but his care was evident.

"You mustn’t push yourself so hard." Jihoon said softly.

Soonyoung smirked, teasing despite the pain. "I’m stronger with you."

Jihoon glanced up, cheeks warming as their eyes met each other. "We… we’re a team. In everything."

Soonyoung leaned in closer, voice low and sure. "No more hiding. No more silent battles."

Jihoon exhaled, feeling the weight of the past lift just a little. "Together." He said quietly.

They settled close beneath the trees, the promise of their confession weaving into every breath, every heartbeat, silent but unbreakable.

As time passed, their partnership grew more visible yet still subtle.

Jihoon and Soonyoung exchanged quick, knowing glances during meetings. Their coordinated actions become sharper, a perfect balance of quiet strategy and bold moves.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol studied reports while Soonyoung and Jihoon stood side by side, now more synchronized in both action and presence.

Jeonghan looked up, noticing their subtle closeness. "The poison samples you uncovered have you confirmed the source?" Jeonghan said in a curious yet controlled manner.

Jihoon stepped forward, voice calm but confident. "Yes. Our investigation points directly to the northern supply caravans. The poison was introduced during transport."

Soonyoung added, eyes scanning the map, pointing to a cluster of villages.

"We intercepted coded messages indicating a coordinated strike timed with the harvest moon, consistent with the letter’s warning."

Jeonghan nodded approvingly, then turned to Seungcheol. "Your thoughts, Duke?"

Seungcheol stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Their findings are sound. We’ll reinforce the caravans and set an ambush."

He glanced toward Soonyoung and Jihoon, a rare softness in his eyes. "You two work well together. Keep your communication tight, it will save lives."

Jihoon and Soonyoung exchanged a brief, meaningful look, no words needed between them. Their quiet understanding is stronger than ever, fueling their resolve.

Few Days Later

Madam Yoon arrived at Jeonghan’s courtyard.

“My angel, your uncle sent a message that he was missing us both and wanted to see you, I was thinking maybe we can visit them altogether.”

“We should off course visit them Eomma, let us prepare for our journey.” Jeonghan replied.

He called for Seungkwan and informed him of this imminent travel and told him to prepare for it.

“Yes, Hyung I will prepare as early as possible.” Seungkwan replied.

Junhui and Minghao walked together along the blooming path. Junhui was calm, deliberate and an omega with years of experience and a serene presence. Minghao, a beta just a year younger, respected Junhui deeply and matched his steady pace.

Minghao asked Junhui, “Do you think Hyung will ever truly rest?"

Junhui chuckled softly, his eyes on the distant hills. "Rest isn’t in his nature. But working grounds him."

 Minghao nodded. "I’m glad to be here with him. Quiet moments like this make me remember why we fight."

They paused near a small pond, watching dragonflies dance over the water.

"One year apart, yet we’ve grown close.” Junhui said softly.

 Minghao met his gaze with a grateful smile. "I learn from you more than you know."

Junhui placed a firm, gentle hand on Minghao’s shoulder. "And I from you. We protect more than Hyung, we protect a future."

Jeonghan watched his guards from a distance, a rare, faint smile touching his lips.

Later, he approached them quietly. "You two… I see your loyalty. Your strength, it steadies me."

Junhui bowed respectfully. "Your burden is ours as well, Hyung."

Jeonghan nodded, eyes lingering on Minghao. "You both have become family."

Junhui and Minghao exchanged a subtle glance, the unspoken bond growing stronger beneath the weight of duty. After Jeonghan left them both, they started to prepare their gear after a day of duty. Minghao busied himself with polishing his sword, energetic and eager. Junhui moved slower, carefully tending to his bow with practiced calm.

Minghao teased, "You’re always so slow, hyung. You’d better speed up!”

Junhui looked up, amused but firm. "Patience is a weapon too, Minghao. Not everything is won by speed."

 Minghao rolled his eyes, still smirking. "Sure, sure. But if we’re too slow, the enemy won’t wait."

Junhui set down his bow, folding his arms. "And rushing headfirst is how we lose HaoHao. Balance your fire, young one."

Later, Minghao accidentally tripped over Junhui’s carefully arranged herbs, sending jars clattering.

Minghao flushed and scrambled, "Sorry! I swear I wasn’t trying to sabotage your precious plants."

Junhui watched, eyebrow raised but not upset.

Junhui deadpanned, "Next time, maybe we’ll label the garden as the ‘dangerous traps’."

Minghao laughed, shaking his head. "Guess I’ll stick to swords, then."

Junhui smiled faintly. "And I’ll keep you grounded."

That night, Minghao quietly checked on Junhui, noticing his hand tremble slightly as he cleaned a wound from earlier training.

"You’re tougher than you let on." Minghao said softly.

Junhui shrugged, but didn’t deny it. "Years teach you pain that doesn’t disappear. You learn to carry it."

Minghao’s expression softened. "Then let me carry some for you. We’re in this together."

Junhui’s eyes met his, gratitude unspoken but deeply felt. They shared a brief quiet moment when no grand words were needed. Just trust.

After some days, people from Duke of North’s mansion prepared to travel to countryside to Jeonghan’s maternal uncle’s home. Jeonghan was travelling along with everyone.

The wind howled through the narrow, treacherous mountain pass, carrying the scent of rain. The night was thick with the shadow of impending doom. In the dim light of flickering torches, Jeonghan, clad in embroidered robes of sage green, walked solemnly ahead, unaware of the ambush set against him. Minghao and Junhui trailed behind, their eyes sharp, scanning every flicker of movement in the shadows.

Junhui ever the perceiving one, realized the distant sound of horse hooves.

He signaled to Minghao, “Prepare, this is a trap.”

Before they can respond, a group of masked assassins, black-clad and silent as shadows, emerged from the mist. Their weapons gleam with the promise of death. The wind howls once more, as if warning of the fate about to unfold.

The first strike came from the right, an assassin lunged at Jeonghan, his sword aimed directly at Jeonghan's throat. In the blink of an eye, Minghao, threw himself in front of Jeonghan, the sound of his sword clashing against the assassin’s ringing out. Blood splashes across the stone, and his body crumpled as he took the blow intended for Jeonghan.

Jeonghan's eyes widened, and he shouted, “Minghao!”

Without hesitation, Junhui and the remaining guards formed a protective circle around the prince. Steel clashed against steel as they fight with all their might. Despite their valiant effort, the odds are overwhelming. The assassins are skilled, each strike calculated to wear them down, each parry a desperate attempt to stay alive. But Junhui and the guards are skilled and able to fight off the assassian and they finally succeed.

The rain began to fall harder, as Jeonghan is pulled into the safety of the camp, his mind swirling with guilt and grief.

Jeonghan spoke softly, to himself, "I owe them... all of them."

Soon the night passed, and the sun rose up. Jeonghan sat in the garden courtyard, bandaging Minghao’s injured arm. Junhui stood nearby, alert but calm, watching over them both.

Jeonghan’s fingers move carefully, his voice soft but steady. "Your wound is serious. You risked everything for me."

 Minghao shrugged, wincing slightly. Minghao shrugged, "I’d do it again. Hyung you’re more than a lord to us, you’re family."

Junhui stepped closer, voice low. "We protect more than titles. Hyung, we protect what matters."

Jeonghan looked up, eyes meeting Junhui’s.

Later, as the day hums back to life, the three share a quiet moment near the pond.

Junhui watched Minghao, who tends carefully to the garden herbs. "You fought well. The wound won’t slow you long." Junhui said softly.

Minghao smiled faintly. "Not with you by my side."

Jeonghan joined them, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. "I’m stronger because of you both. This bond… it’s more than duty."

Junhui and Minghao exchange a glance, a silent agreement, a promise beyond words. As they stand together, the weight of the coming battles looms, but so does the quiet power of their unity.

"Whatever comes next, we face it together." Jeonghan’s voice is steady, resolute.

Junhui nodded, his calm voice firm. "Yes, together."

"No one will break us." Minghao added with a fierce smile.

The three stand united, lord and guards, brothers in arms, bound by trust and an unshakable bond.

Jeonghan poured tea, his movements slow, thoughtful. "It’s rare to have nights like this. Peace feels… fragile." Jeonghan said softly.

Junhui nodded, cradling his cup carefully. "Fragile, yes. But necessary. Even the fiercest warriors need rest."

Minghao smiled, eyes flickering with warmth. "And company. It’s easier facing the storm when you’re not alone."

Minghao nudged Junhui playfully. "You’re too serious sometimes, Junhui. Lighten up."

Junhui raised an eyebrow, smirking. "And you’re too reckless. Minghao."

Jeonghan chuckled softly. "Balance and recklessness, sounds like the perfect team."

The three shared a quiet laugh, the warmth of friendship filling the room.

As the fire dimmed, Jeonghan’s gaze turned distant.

"When this is over… I want a quiet life like this."Junhui’s voice was steady but hopeful.

Jeonghan smiled softly, the firelight reflecting in his eyes.

They sat in silence, bound not just by duty, but by hope.

In the northern part of the country, carriages marked with Duke of South’s insignia arrived before a serene courtyard, flowers bloomed, and the air smelled of freshness. Jeonghan arrived with his brothers Jihoon, Mingyu, also his attendants Seungkwan, Minghao and, Junhui, his mother followed along.

Jeonghan stepped from his carriage, breathing deeply, a rare softness in his expression. His maternal family warm-faced, with gentle smiles greeted him eagerly. Children ran around the yard, and his grandmother embraced him tightly.

"My beloved grandson, you’ve grown so much. But you must rest." His grandmother’s voice teared up.

Jeonghan bowed deeply. "Halmeoni, this place reminds me who I am beyond the capital city."

His maternal uncle laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. "Come, taste the fresh food that we have  prepared."

Jeonghan smiled genuinely, letting himself relax.

The warm, sunlit halls of Jeonghan’s maternal family estate welcomed him with open hands. Soft tapestries hang, mingling with the scent of jasmine. Jeonghan walked alongside his mother, meeting relatives who bring both comfort and complexity.

A delicate figure stepped forward. It was Park Seonghwa, Jeonghan’s maternal cousin. His graceful demeanor is wrapped in fine silks, but there’s a quiet strength in her gaze. He is an Omega, consort to Prince Hongjoong, the commandery Prince of Liangzhou, one of the most powerful regions of the country.

Prince Consort Seonghwa bowed gracefully. "Cousin, it has been too long."

Jeonghan inclined his head respectfully. "Lord Seonghwa. Your grace honors us."

Lord Seonghwa’s eyes flickered with a subtle fire beneath his calm. "The court’s tides shift swiftly. I trust you navigate them with wisdom, cousin."

Jeonghan smiled sincerely, "As must you."

Nearby, a boisterous laugh ran out. A large man with easy charm, Uncle Shi Bao, married to Jeonghan’s maternal aunt, a merchant’s son who rose through wit and gold.

"Young master! Come, taste my new wine, it’ll make you forget troubles for a night." He said.

Shi Yan laughed at his words.

"I look forward to it, Uncle," Jeonghan replied.

Later, in a private corner, Jeonghan and Seonghwa shared a quiet moment.

"Our families are bound by more than blood, cousin. Watch your step. Prince of Dingbei’s ambitions touch even your path." Seonghwa said in a low voice.

Jeonghan’s eyes darkened with resolve. "I am aware. And ready."

Seonghwa smiled faintly, the unspoken alliance both comforting and fraught. "Then let us be careful and watch each other’s backs."

Jeonghan nodded, the weight of family and politics intertwining as tightly as their bloodlines.

Lord Seonghwa poured tea, his movements graceful but purposeful.

"The courts are restless. Prince of Dingbei grows impatient, but he values discretion. Your enemies watch closely, cousin. Open confrontation would be folly."

Jeonghan nodded, sipping the tea thoughtfully. "I need allies who can move unseen, who understand the delicate threads."

Seonghwa leaned in, eyes sharp. "That is where I can help. Whispered words, favor gained through subtlety, my position allows me access few enjoy."

Uncle Shi Bao, who joined them a few moments ago, chuckled, rubbing his hands.

"And I have networks far beyond the palace walls: traders, informants, even some less reputable contacts."

He glanced at Jeonghan and Seonghwa with a grin.

"Together, we can supply your plans with information and resources. And perhaps nudge certain key players in your favor."

Jeonghan’s gaze sharpens with approval. "Discretion and influence both will be needed.

Lord Seonghwa raised his cup. "For family, and for the future we will shape."

Uncle Shi Bao clinked his cup to theirs.

Jeonghan smiled, a rare, genuine warmth breaking through. "Together, then. We’ll turn the tide."

The three share a quiet moment bound by blood, loyalty, and the dangerous game ahead.

Late evening, when the estate courtyard bathed in soft lantern light, Jeonghan stepped outside after a long day.

Jeonghan’s footsteps paused as he heard familiar, steady footsteps behind him.

Jeonghan turned sharply. "General?"

Choi Seungcheol stepped into the light, a small, rare smile on his lips. "I arrived earlier than expected. I thought it best to see you in person."

Jeonghan’s heart quickened, a warmth spreading through him.

Seungcheol moved closer, their eyes locking.

"You’ve been burdened with so much lately. I wanted to remind you, you’re not alone."

Jeonghan swallowed, searching Seungcheol’s gaze.

"I’ve missed you." He said in a soft voice.

Seungcheol reached out, gently brushing a loose strand of hair from Jeonghan’s forehead.

"And I missed you, too,” Seungcheol replied in a soft voice.

They stood close beneath the moonlight, the world narrowing to just the two of them.

Seungcheol’s hand lingered near Jeonghan’s, fingers brushing lightly but not quite touching.

"Tonight, just be here. No worries, no plans, just this moment."

Jeonghan nodded, breathing easier than he had in days.

They exchanged a quiet smile, the unspoken emotions heavier than any words or touch. As they moved along the bustling night market near Jeonghan’s maternal estate, the street was filled with colorful lanterns, enticing aromas, and the hum of celebration. Traditional music floated through the air, mingling with chatter and laughter.

They stroll past stalls bursting with colorful silk, fragrant spices, and sweet treats. They stopped at a stand selling delicate paper lanterns.

The stall owner told them, "These lanterns are said to carry your heart’s deepest desire."

She selected a lantern, handing it to Jeonghan.

"Young master, write your wish."

Jeonghan took the lantern, the paper smooth beneath his fingers.

“What would you wish for?" Jeonghan asked Seungcheol.

Seungcheol leaned in, voice low but steady.

"For peace and for those we love to be safe."

Jeonghan dragged Seungcheol to a nearby game stall, a ring toss. Jeonghan laughed, a rare ease in his eyes, as he tried and missed.

Seungcheol stepped forward, teasing, "May I demonstrate?"

With a steady hand, Seungcheol landed a perfect toss.

Jeonghan clapped, impressed. "I’m outmatched."

Seungcheol shot him a steady glance.

Later, near a pond, they release their lanterns together. Jeonghan’s lantern floated upward, glowing warmly.

"For the future we fight for," Jeonghan said softly.

Seungcheol’s lantern followed behind. His hand found Jeonghan’s briefly, their fingers brushing as their lanterns drifted side by side.

As the crowd moved around them, laughter and music weaving a protective cocoon, they shared a moment of peace.

In a secluded pavilion near Seungcheol’s courtyard in Liangzhou, Mingyu arrived. The sun was setting, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and gold. The air was fragrant with blooming wisteria. The sounds of the bustling market have faded, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves and distant birdsong.

Mingyu arrived at the pavilion. A touch of nervous anticipation was evident in his step. Jeon Wonwoo, Seungcheol's advisor and one of the few Omega strategists of the court, was already there, seated calmly, waiting with a small scroll and tea set laid out on a low table.

"Young Master Kim, your diligence honors you," Wonwoo said calmly while sipping his tea.

Mingyu bowed respectfully. "Master Jeon, I am eager to learn."

Wonwoo unrolled the scroll, revealing maps and writings on strategy, philosophy, and governance.

"True strength is born not only from the blade but from understanding the heart of those you lead and those who lead you," Wonwoo said.

He pointed to passages about patience, empathy, and restraint.

"Your power lies in this balance. You must cultivate both courage and calm."

Mingyu listened intently, eyes reflecting a growing resolve.

Wonwoo set the scroll aside, his expression softening. "You carry more than the weight of your house. There is a fire within you, tempered, not extinguished."

"I feel it, a need to prove myself, but also a fear of failing those I love," Mingyu said in a resolute voice.

Wonwoo nodded knowingly. "Fear is a shadow eating away at courage. Only when we confront it directly do we rise out of the grasp of our fear, and that is where our true strength lies."

He poured tea, offering a cup to Mingyu. "Remember, strength shared is strength doubled."

Their fingers brushed briefly as Mingyu took the cup, the contact charged with unspoken trust. Mingyu’s eyes met with Wonwoo’s, a quiet understanding passing between them.

Mingyu rose, steadier now. "Thank you, Master Jeon. Your guidance is a lantern in dark times."

Wonwoo inclined his head with a gentle smile. "And you, Young Master, are a flame yet to burn bright. I look forward to seeing your light grow."

As Mingyu walked away, the garden seemed brighter, the path ahead clearer.

Seungkwan arrived in Jeonghan’s room while he was busy conversing with Seonghwa.

“Hyung, young master Hong Jisoo arrived to meet you,” Seungkwan informed.

“Jisoo! Here? Well, send for him quickly.” Jeonghan replied to Seungkwan excitedly.

Hong Jisoo arrived and bowed to Prince Consort Seonghwa, then ran over to meet Jeonghan.

“Jisoo, good to see you. Why are you here? “  Jeonghan asked in a surprised voice.

“Well, I had to come to Liangzhou to check on some of our estate, and I heard you were here, so I did not wait any longer and came over to meet you,” Jisoo replied.

“Well, that is good. We will spend some time together and enjoy our time,” Jeonghan said in a happy voice.

“Welcome to Liangzhou, young master Hong. I hope you enjoy your stay in Liangzhou.” Seonghwa welcomed Jisoo.

“Thanking Prince Consort for this gracious welcome,” Jisoo replied.

They kept on enjoying their time while sipping on their tea.

The spring wind in Liangzhou carried the scent of wild apricots and dust, brushing softly through the tiled pavilions of the Yoon family estate. Beneath the shade of a flowering tree was Hong Jisoo, draped in lavender silk with his hair half-pinned, sipping cooled plum wine and watching the road from the hill pavilion with languid grace.

“They’re late,” he muttered, brow arching. “Men of the sword are always so dramatic. I suppose being punctual is beneath them.”

“They just arrived from the capital. They must be tired,” Jeonghan replied from beside him, reclining on a brocade cushion. “Give them some mercy.”

“If I had mercy, would I be friends with you?”

Seungkwan rushed up then, breathless. “The Duke’s party has arrived, Hyung!”

With a flourish, Jeonghan stood. “Come, Jisoo. Let’s greet them.”

Jisoo rose reluctantly, brushing non-existent dust off his sleeve. “Only because it would be scandalous to let a noble guest wait.”

Seungcheol arrived, and behind him, Vice Commander Lee Dokyeom, bronze-skinned, tall, and smiling like the sun had followed him.

Jeonghan walked forward to greet Seungcheol with a bow, but Jisoo hung back slightly, letting his gaze roam and land directly on the man laughing too loudly at something one of the guards said.

Jisoo frowned. “He’s too loud.”

Dokyeom’s laugh stopped the moment his gaze landed on Jisoo. He wasn’t used to beauty slapping him straight across the face before a battle, but there it was, soft violet robes fluttering in the breeze, long lashes, lips pursed in apparent disapproval.

“Who’s that?” Dokyeom whispered to a nearby guard.

“That’s Hong Jisoo. Marquis Yoon’s friend and Minister Hong’s Beta son.”

“That’s him?” Dokyeom asked in a surprising voice.

“Yes, that is him.” The guard replied.

Meanwhile, Jisoo had crossed his arms.

“You’re staring,” he said plainly.

“I, I was just admiring the... wind,” Dokyeom replied, attempting a bow and almost knocking into a cherry blossom branch.

“Is the wind in Liangzhou so different from the capital?” Jisoo asked coolly, brows lifted.

“It is now.”

Jeonghan glanced back and grinned. “Jisoo, this is Vice Commander Dokyeom. He helps keep Seungcheol from dying in duels.”

“That sounds exhausting,” Jisoo said.

“It is,” Dokyeom said earnestly. “But I’m good at exhausting things.”

There was a pause, and Jeonghan nearly choked on air.

Jisoo’s lip twitched. Just barely.

“If you think that was charming,” he said, turning, “you’re very much mistaken.”

“I was aiming for unforgettable,” Dokyeom called after him.

“How tragic,” Jisoo replied without turning. “You overshot.”

Later that night, while the moon rose over the western gardens and wine flowed like water, Dokyeom found himself wandering toward the quiet side of the estate, and there, under a tree heavy with white blossoms, sat Jisoo alone, playing with a silk fan.

He looked up. “Lost, soldier?”

“Maybe,” Dokyeom said honestly. “Or maybe I was looking for a reason to stay a few more days.”

“And what did you find?”

Dokyeom scratched the back of his neck. “A mouth sharper than a sword, a face I can’t look away from, and a presence that makes Liangzhou far more dangerous than the battlefield.”

Jisoo laughed softly, finally.

“Careful, Vice Commander. Liangzhou wind might just blow that big heart of yours away.”

“Then I hope it blows it right into your hands.”

The skies above Liangzhou were deceptively calm. But behind the pavilions and peach-blossom courtyards, a far-reaching conspiracy stirred, silent and slow.

That morning, Jeonghan sat in a private study with Seungcheol, poring over intercepted correspondence. Slender fingers tapped against a wax seal bearing the sigil of Dingbei.

“The Prince of Dingbei is too quiet,” Jeonghan murmured. “And yet he has more movement along the northern trade roads than any man at peace.”

Seungcheol nodded grimly. “And now we know his men are arming rogue patrols near the Liangzhou border.”

“We’ll need more than just suspicion to present this to the Emperor,” Jeonghan added. “We need proof.”

Later That Day, all of them gathered together in a quiet place out of earshot of servants and guards. Jeonghan gestured at a map unrolled before them. “Our best chance lies with the merchant caravans. The rebels must be hiding goods among their supplies, arms, coins, maybe forged edicts.”

“I have contacts in the merchant houses,” Jisoo offered, eyes narrowing. “They enjoy my company. Or perhaps they fear me.”

“Both,” Jeonghan said with a faint smile.

“That’ll do,” Seungcheol added approvingly. “And what of the military posts?”

Dokyeom straightened. “I can send my scouts in pairs, quiet, dressed as traders. If anyone sees the wrong crest or too much coin being exchanged, we’ll know.”

Seungcheol glanced between them. “You two would make a good team.”

“We’re not a team,” Jisoo said at once.

“We work well together,” Dokyeom added at the same time.

There was a pause for a moment. Jeonghan raised a brow.

“Just don’t kill each other before you return with evidence.”

“I make no promises,” Jisoo said sweetly.

The house of Merchant Pei was a sprawling complex lit with crimson lanterns and guarded by laughter, music, and far too many eyes. It was said that anything passed through Liangzhou could pass through his ledgers… and perhaps, Jeonghan guessed, even a few forged imperial orders.

Tonight, Jisoo wore a silver-blue robe embroidered with clouds, hair half-bound with a jade pin, fan in hand. He looked every bit the charming scholar traveling on his cousin’s behalf, one who drank sweet wine and whispered sweet lies.

Beside him stood Dokyeom, tall and dressed as his “guard” in lacquered leather armor, scabbard at his side.

“Remember,” Jisoo murmured as they entered the central courtyard, “you’re quiet, unassuming.”

“Unassuming? I can be quiet,” Dokyeom replied. “But it’ll be hard if someone tries to kill you and I’m not allowed to do anything dramatic.”

“Then don’t let them get that close.”

Jisoo smiled at a group of silk-clad merchants, raising his wine cup in greeting.

The courtyard was abuzz with talk of grain prices and border unrest. Lord Pei, a round man with a glint in his eyes, was surrounded by his people, yet his gaze kept flickering to Jisoo.

That was the plan.

“You’re not local,” Lord Pei said when they finally met. “And far too pretty to be an official.”

“I’m prettier than most officials, it’s true,” Jisoo replied with a laugh. “But I only travel for rare treasures. Scrolls, spices and  secrets.”

Pei’s smile faltered at that last word.

Behind Jisoo, Dokyeom narrowed his eyes.

“And your guard?” Pei asked, gesturing to Dokyeom.

“Oh, him?” Jisoo said airily. “He doesn’t speak. Very loyal, very silent. But he’s lovely to look at.”

Dokyeom nearly choked.

They were led to a private lounge as the evening deepened. While wine was poured, Jisoo gently spun conversation toward trade routes, listening carefully for any slips. Lord Pei was cautious but greedy; his pride loosened his tongue.

“Your master… does he deal in the north often?”

“Liangzhou has good connections. Even with Prince of Dingbei. Though that side has more silver than sense these days.”

It was a slip. Jisoo smiled over his cup.

“So you’ve seen coin flow north? Or weapons perhaps?”

Pei hesitated, his eyes flickering, but before he could respond, the door behind them creaked slightly and then stopped.

He knew it was a signal.

Jisoo’s lashes fluttered. “Too much wine. I must rest.” He rose fluidly. “My guard will escort me back.”

Pei gave a knowing grin.

In the Garden

Once outside, Jisoo let the mask drop.

“He’s hiding something. His shipments move too fast for grain. We need to find his ledgers before they’re burned.”

Dokyeom was already scanning the shadows. “Then we come back after midnight. Quiet, through the kitchen roof.”

“You’ll have to hoist me up.”

“With pleasure,” Dokyeom murmured.

Jisoo turned to look at him, surprised at the warmth in his voice.

For a moment, under the moonlight, the playful mask faded.

“You know,” Jisoo said softly, “you’re better at this than I thought.”

“Is that praise?” Dokyeom said, stepping closer.

“It’s not a confession.”

“Yet,” Dokyeom said.

And then he gently flicked a flower petal off the Beta’s shoulder, fingers brushing silk. Not lingering, not bold, just enough to feel the electricity between them.

Jisoo didn’t move.

But his voice was quieter when he said, “Midnight. Don’t be late.”

“Never for you.”

The moon was a thin blade overhead, barely enough to cast shadows.

The sprawling estate of Lord Pei, once full of laughter and music, had quieted. Only a few guards patrolled the outer corridors now, men with full bellies and lazy steps.

From the rear wall, Dokyeom hoisted Jisoo up with one practiced motion, strong hands gripping his waist just long enough to draw a breath from them both.

“Enjoying yourself?” Jisoo whispered as he pulled himself up onto the rooftop.

“Not denying it,” came the low reply.

Moments later, both were crouched along the tiled roof, moving like ghosts across the curved beams. Below them was the east wing where Jisoo had caught a glimpse earlier of sealed ledgers and private boxes behind a golden screen.

“There,” Jisoo pointed.

“I'll go in first. Wait for my signal.”

He slid down into the courtyard, melted into the shadows, and with a practiced flick, pried open the lattice window. Jisoo followed soundlessly, landing with a graceful step onto the wooden floor.

The room smelled faintly of sandalwood and damp ink.

Stacks of scrolls lined the shelves, but it was the locked chest beneath the desk that drew Dokyeom’s attention. He knelt beside it while Jisoo watched the door.

“Can you pick it?” Jisoo whispered.

“Yes.”

Dokyeom pulled out a thin steel pin and twisted. Then he winced when the lock gave a faint click louder than he’d hoped.

Still, the chest opened.

Inside lay silk-wrapped scrolls, stamped seals… and a folded map marked with coded trade routes and drop points.

Dokyeom unrolled it on the floor.

“Here, this one’s for the border. And this route, it’s a supply line. Hidden under grain shipments.”

“With forged escort papers…” Jisoo breathed, holding up a smaller bundle. “Signed by the Prince of Dingbei’s private steward. This is it.”

They stared at each other, heartbeat echoing in the silence.

Until there were footsteps heard outside the outer hallway.

“Move!” Dokyeom whispered, grabbing Jisoo’s wrist and pulling him toward the window.

“Don’t yank, I can!” Jisoo hissed, but then a guard’s silhouette appeared at the door.

They tumbled out onto the rooftop just as the door slid open.

Dokyeom caught Jisoo mid-stumble and steadied him with an arm around his waist, both pressed against the tiled slope as a lantern passed beneath.

“You’re too loud,” he murmured near Jisoo’s ear.

“You’re too smug,” Jisoo breathed back, but didn’t pull away.

They remained like that for a moment.

Back in their temporary safehouse, they spread the evidence across the table.

“This is enough,” Dokyeom said. “With this, Marquis Yoon can take it to the Duke. And the Emperor.”

“And Dingbei will lose his mask.”

Jisoo turned to Dokyeom and smiled, not his usual teasing curl of lips, but in a way that felt real.

“You were right. We do make a good team.”

“You mean I make a good team, and you add the drama,” Dokyeom teased back.

Jisoo didn’t argue. He just looked at him.

And for once, said nothing.

On the other hand, Jeonghan and Seungcheol wandered through the lively market, their fingers entwined as if grounding each other against the world’s chaos. Seungcheol brought Jeonghan to the nearby mountain to gaze upon the sunrise.

The dawn stretched its fingers lazily across endless fields, gilding the horizon in a fragile gold. Jeonghan stood on top of a hill, his gaze distant, as if trying to summon the clouds to break the unbearable silence of the earth beneath his feet.

The wind was dry and the soil beneath his boots cracked like ancient parchment, thirsting for a rain that had long since forgotten this land.

Beside him, Seungcheol’s stern silhouette cut through the haze, eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a hard line. The gentle strength he always carried now tempered with the weight of unspoken dread.

“This is no ordinary absence of rain,” Jeonghan murmured, voice low and strained. “The earth is gasping... for water.”

Seungcheol turned, the faintest shadow of vulnerability flickering in his eyes. “If the lack of rain continues, drought will consume more than the fields. It will ruin the livelihood of common people.”

A silence fell between them, heavy, aching, filled with the bitter knowledge that even their iron wills might not be enough.

A Few Days Later

A village near Liangzhou

The village lay still, as if holding its breath. The market square, once alive with chatter and the rich aroma of fresh harvests, now lay barren and empty. The parched earth swallowed children’s laughter. Prayers whispered into the wind.

Jeonghan dismounted, the weight of every gaze settling on his shoulders. An old woman stepped forward, her hands trembling as she held out a handful of brittle straw. “Master Yoon, the wells run dry, and the granaries are empty. We’ve prayed for mercy, but the heavens are silent.”

He knelt, fingers tracing the deep fractures in the soil. Each crack a scar on the land, a wound echoing in his chest. “Nature is testing us; we need to prepare faster, otherwise the situation will turn even dire.”

Seungcheol’s voice was steady, a vow etched in steel. “Then we shall not break. We will dig deeper, find hidden springs, and draw water from the stones if we must.”

Their eyes met, a silent pact forged in the fire of crisis. For all the wars they’d fought, this battle would demand something different: relentless hope.

The stars offered no comfort, mere distant sparks over a world grown cruel and dry. Jeonghan and Seungcheol sat close, the warmth of the flames contrasting with the cold weight pressing on their hearts.

Jeonghan’s voice was barely a whisper, thick with the ache of responsibility. “The court’s schemes were cruel, but this… this is merciless. Not even sending resources to this, parts of the country, and using the common people to fight their battles.”

Seungcheol reached out, fingers brushing over Jeonghan’s hand, grounding him. “Together, we endure. Together, we will help the people.”

Jeonghan met his gaze, fierce and unyielding beneath the flicker of flame. “We have to fight, for them for this land, and us.”

The fireflies danced between them, a fragile promise against the creeping shadow of despair, as the drought’s relentless silence pressed on the earth, and on their souls.

Jeonghan gathered everyone into his courtyard to prepare themselves.

“We cannot wait for mercy to fall from the heavens,” Jeonghan’s voice rang clear, tempered with fierce resolve. “We must act. The wells may run dry, but the rivers that feed our lands still flow far beyond what we can see. We should send scouts to find new sources of water. We will organize digging parties.”

Everyone’s eyes flickered with hopes.

Seungcheol spoke up, firm as iron. “Those who can carry water will carry it. Those who can dig will dig. We will not watch our home either. We will fight this drought as we fight our enemies.”

Seungcheol’s men bowed to both of them in respect.

The scouts’ camp — dusk

Under the blood-red sky, scouts returned from the hills, faces grim. Jeonghan awaited them, breath caught between hope and dread.

“We found nothing,” Dokyeom reported, voice tight. “No hidden springs. The earth is bone dry.”

Jeonghan’s fist clenched, nails digging into his palm. Seungcheol’s gaze darkened; the shadows of failure crept in.

“We must go deeper,” Jeonghan said, voice hoarse but unyielding. “If the surface refuses life, we will seek it beneath.”

Chapter Text

Weeks passed by without any sign of rain, and water became less and less available. They decided to dig for a well. Men and women labored with blistered hands; they dug deep into stubborn earth. Dust and sweat mingled, the air thick with desperation and determination.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol stood side by side, watching shovelfuls of soil cast aside.

Suddenly, a sharp cry rang out from one of the men, “water”. Cold, clear water, bubbling to the surface.

The villagers erupted into cheers, tears mingled with sweat. Jeonghan’s breath hitched as relief flooded through him.

Seungcheol smiled, rare and radiant.

Jeonghan poured a cup of water. The precious liquid shimmered like a promise in the moonlight. He handed it to Seungcheol, who accepted it with a look that said more than words ever could.

The crisis had not ended; it still lurked on the horizon, but tonight, hope was theirs.

Seungcheol’s hand found Jeonghan’s in the dark, their fingers entwining like roots clinging to life in the parched earth.

And beneath the vast, watchful sky, two souls stood unbroken, ready to face whatever drought or darkness came next.

Even though wells had been dug to help the common people, it was not enough. Rivers turned into threadbare streams, fields lay barren, carrying scents of despair. Food was turning into a scarcity. Common people gathered around Jeonghan’s maternal uncle’s house. He was the governor of Liangzhou, yet they didn’t have enough food for the common people. Jeonghan’s uncle Yoon Chanwoo shuffled anxiously. Relief grain from the court was delayed, food was scarce, and he had no idea how to help the common people anymore.

 At that moment, Jeonghan arrived, dressed in soft robes of pink silk. He bowed to his uncle, “Samchon, the heavens may withhold rain, but human hearts need not be as dry. I have already sent words to the capital. In our shops, grain ships are on the way. They will arrive in just a day or two, but until then, open the storehouse. We need to help the people.”

His uncle hesitated for a moment, then agreed to him, “Well, let us open the storehouse now, then.”

Soon, the city’s abandoned courtyards became makeshift porridge halls. The smell of millet porridge drifted through the streets, drawing the starving from their homes with tears in their eyes.

Jeonghan, with the help of the others, gave out porridge to the starving. No one was left out, even the people without household registration were given porridge.

These porridge halls helped out the common people. Two days later, the caravan bearing the insignia of Jeonghan’s shops finally arrived carrying rice, dried beans, and pickled vegetables.

Seeing the carriage, the common people fell to their knees, weeping in gratitude and thanking Jeonghan.

And yet, Jeonghan accepted, no thanks, only quietly instructing Minghao and Junhui.

“Distribute it fairly, do not let anyone take more than they need, and maintain the decorum; do not let chaos breed. We must guard against chaos.”

Soon, in the hearts of the Liangzhou people, only one single name became a whispered prayer, a lantern of hope amid the drought.

Imperial Palace

Hall of Supreme Harmony

The grand hall shimmered beneath towering pillars carved with dragons and phoenixes, symbols of eternal power and imperial might. Courtiers in silks of red and gold whispered anxiously, the air thick with anticipation.

At the heart of the hall, the Emperor sat in his throne, an imposing figure swathed in regal robes, his gaze piercing and inscrutable. Beside him, ministers and nobles bowed and murmured, awaiting his decree.

An Eunuch stepped forward, voice booming, “By imperial decree, it has come to the attention of His Majesty that Marquis Yoon, the valiant eldest Omega son of Duke Kim, has shown unparalleled leadership and unwavering courage amidst the great drought that threatened our lands.”

A hush fell over the hall. Eyes darted, some skeptical, others in awe.

The Emperor’s voice rang out, clear and commanding, echoing through the marble chamber, “In recognition of his steadfast loyalty, wisdom, and tireless dedication to the people and the realm, Marquis Yoon is hereby granted the title of Commandery Prince, with lands and honors befitting his sacrifice.”

The courtiers stirred, some with envy, others with genuine respect. The seal of the empire, heavy and ornate, was lifted by a royal scribe, its red ink soon to mark the proclamation of Jeonghan’s new position.

Liangzhou

A royal envoy arrived under the midday sun, scrolls tied with crimson ribbon in hand. The people of Liangzhou gathered in a stunned, reverent silence as the messenger read the imperial decree aloud.

Jeonghan’s lips parted in disbelief. Seungcheol’s eyes gazed at him with pride.

Jeonghan bowed deeply to the envoy. “This honor belongs to all who endured. Without their strength, none of this would be possible.”

After the envoy left, Seungcheol looked at Jeonghan. Jeonghan’s gaze held a quiet storm.

“The capital’s eyes are upon us now,” he murmured. “With honor comes new burdens.”

Seungcheol’s fingers brushed against his cheek, warm and grounding. “No matter where the throne looks, it is your heart that leads. And I will stand by you, always.”

Night time

Jeonghan’s courtyard

Rain had not come. The air was still and warm, thick with unspoken tension. Yet outside, the villagers slept peacefully. Inside the quiet pavilion at the edge of the drought-stricken fields, lantern light flickered softly, casting golden shadows across the carved wood walls.

Jeonghan sat alone, his robe slightly loosened at the collar, his body weary, his heart more so. He stared out into the dark fields, listening to the silence of the earth. A silence that sounded too much like mourning.

A quiet knock at his door broke his trance.

He turned, finding Seungcheol at the entrance, armour shed, robes in soft indigo, his figure no less commanding for the lack of steel. His eyes, dark and alert as ever, softened when they met Jeonghan’s.

“You should rest,” he said.

Jeonghan looked back at the fields. “How can I, when the land cannot sleep?”

Seungcheol stepped in. The door closed behind him. The silence between them stretched, heavy, full of things that had never been said, not for fear, but for timing. For duty. But the world was cracking open, and in that space, something new dared to exist.

“You’ve done more than anyone could,” he said, voice low. “You’ve held this land together with your hands and your heart.”

“And yet it still breaks,” Jeonghan whispered.

Seungcheol stepped forward slowly, as if afraid to make a move which would shatter the fragile night. He stopped just in front of Jeonghan, who tilted his face up, throat exposed like a question.

Seungcheol’s hand lifted not commanding, but reverent. His Fingers brushed Jeonghan’s cheekbone, then tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. His touch was warm. Grounding.

“You don’t have to be unbreakable tonight,” he murmured.

Jeonghan blinked. “And if I do break?”

“I’ll be there to gather the pieces.”

The lantern light trembled as the wind stirred.

Jeonghan rose to his feet, his movements slow and cautious, as if he were crossing a river of glass. Their faces were so close now. Neither moved first, but the moment moved for them. Seungcheol leaned in, his forehead resting gently against Jeonghan’s. Both of them stayed silent for a moment.  

Soon their lips met, not hungry, not rushed, but like the rain that they prayed to heaven for. It was gentle, deep, and patient.

The kiss felt like something that Jeonghan never felt that he wanted, but it was everything he needed. They parted to breathe slightly.

As the sparks ignited, Seungcheol once again dived in for the Second time, and Jeonghan reciprocated with a welcoming embrace.

The moment felt emotional and connected them in a way that they never thought they could feel.

Jeonghan’s scent of Peach Blossom and vanilla sparked something deep and primal inside Seungcheol. He trailed soft kitten kisses down Jeonghan’s throat, lingering for a moment when Jeonghan’s scent gland appeared. The primal instinct drove Seungcheol to bite Jeonghan and mark him as his own forever, but he stopped himself. He knew that this was not the moment for that. Yet the moment felt so precious, so very intimate to him.

The warm embrace from Seungcheol made Jeonghan tremble for a moment, yet the comforting scent of Oak and black pepper grounded him. It was dizzying for him; he felt everything moving too fast. Even then, the warmth of the kiss consumed him whole. He felt that he might lose himself in that moment, but Jeonghan knew that he had never felt so alive as he was feeling at that moment.

Their robes were loosened, not discarded. This was not a night for frenzy, but for closeness.

They lay on the padded floor by the open screen, where the scent of parched earth drifted in. Seungcheol lay on his side, one arm wrapped firmly around Jeonghan, the other tracing gentle circles along the dip of his waist.

Jeonghan’s back was to him, but every inch of him was aware of Seungcheol’s presence, of his warmth, of his breath, of the quiet weight of his affection.

There were no declarations. No rush, just hands, gentle, reverent, exploring slowly at Jeonghan’s collarbone, the hollow of his back, the curve of his ribs.

Jeonghan turned then, their faces inches apart. He placed his palm against Seungcheol’s chest, where a heartbeat drummed steady and sure beneath his skin.

“I never thought I’d feel safe like this,” he whispered.

“You are safe. With me,” Seungcheol replied.

Their legs tangled beneath the thin silk sheet, bodies pressed close, clothed but intimate. Seungcheol kissed his temple, then his jaw. His hands moved with careful intent, not to claim, but to understand. Jeonghan gasped quietly, but didn’t pull away.

Their movements were slow, aching with tenderness each stroke, each sigh, a testament to the way longing had bloomed quietly between them through drought and duty. They clung to each other not to consume, but to comfort, to survive.

Their breaths mingled in the quiet. Jeonghan closed his eyes as Seungcheol’s touch settled over him like rainfall after a long thirst.

When sleep finally came, it found them curled around one another, two warriors, one Alpha, another Omega, two hearts, one storm-weathered bond.

 The Village Square — Early Morning

The sun had just begun to break through the haze of the night, its pale light stretching over the dust-ridden fields. The air was still, pregnant with unspoken promises, yet there was something different, something lighter, as if the earth itself had exhaled after holding its breath for too long.

Jeonghan stood at the center of the village square, his eyes scanning the familiar faces of the people he had fought to protect. There was a calmness in his demeanor now, a quiet confidence that had been forged in the heat of the night, one that came from the strength of Seungcheol’s steady presence at his side.

Beside him, Seungcheol, his armour now donned again, held himself differently, as if some unseen weight had been lifted from his broad shoulders. His gaze, while still sharp, carried a softness that had been absent before.

They had risen early, together. They had shared not just the quiet of the night but the resolve of the dawn. No words had been exchanged. But none were needed.

The villagers began to gather, whispering among themselves, as the familiar faces of farmers, traders, and elders approached. Their tired eyes held a mixture of hope and wariness, the lingering effects of the drought still visible in their faces.

Jeonghan stepped forward, his voice calm and steady as it always was when he addressed them. “Today, we move forward,” he declared. “Together, as one.”

Seungcheol’s voice, too, was steady beside him. “The land has tested us. And together, we will endure. We have already found water. We will find more. No storm is too great if we face it with unity.”

Jeonghan caught the soft touch of Seungcheol’s hand against his elbow, a subtle connection that, for all its simplicity, carried more weight than anything else. Their eyes met for the briefest moment, a shared look that spoke volumes, the quiet recognition that, despite everything that had come before, this moment was theirs.

The villagers, energized by the shared promise of survival, moved in coordinated effort, digging, hauling, and channeling the water into irrigation systems that would keep the fields alive. Laughter rang out between the people, a sound that had been absent for far too long.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol worked alongside them. There was no distance now between them and the villagers. Seungcheol, usually distant and impenetrable, moved through the crowd with a gentleness that surprised many. His hand extended to help lift a child to higher ground, and his voice, once thunderous, now spoke in low tones of reassurance.

Jeonghan, too, seemed to embody a quiet power. His presence steadied those around him, his words offering hope, and his movements so simple and so profound spoke of the deep strength he had drawn from their shared night, their bond.

Seungkwan was helping Jeonghan in his work when Hansol Seungcheol’s nephew from his maternal side arrived to help them out.

Seungkwan crouched down, handling tools and helping the others. Behind him, Vernon stood with his arms crossed, watching like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“You’re doing it wrong.” Vernon stood with his arms crossed, his voice breaking the momentum.

Seungkwan didn’t even look up. “Oh? Please enlighten me, then, Your Highness of Digging Expertise.”

Vernon sighed, crouching beside him, “You’re doing it wrong; this way you would only injure yourself.”

Seungcheol gave him a side-eye, his lips twitching in mock amusement. “Wow, the baby Alpha who spends his days at the training grounds suddenly knows about irrigation. Should I kneel and beg for your wisdom?’

“You don’t have to beg.” Vernon smirked, leaning closer, “But you could at least admit I am right.”

Seungkwan finally glanced at him, their faces inches apart. His heartbeat stumbled for a moment, but his tone stayed sharp. “I’d rather admit I like- which I don’t- than admit you’re right.”

There was a brief pause, just long enough for Vernon to catch the faint sweetness of Seungkwan’s scent, hidden but not gone. It made something primal stir in him. He chuckled slightly, “Careful little Omega, that almost sounds like a confession.”

Seungkwan turned back to the soil, cheeks warming up, “You are delusional.”

Later that afternoon they moved to the irrigation channels, adjusting the water flow for the new seedlings, Vernon was supposed to help open the sluice gate, but he leaned on the wooden handle with more force than needed, water surged forward in a sudden gush, splashing up and soaking Seungkwan from head to toe, he froze, dripping glancing at the Alpha who was trying very hard not to laugh.

“Oh, for the love of God!” Seungkwan hissed, shaking off water from his sleeves, “Are you trying to drown me?”

Vernon bit back a grin but failed miserably. “I didn’t know Omegas were so fragile they couldn’t handle a little water.”

“A little?” Seungkwan stomped toward him, the wet fabric clinging to his frame. “You call this a little?”

Vernon’s laughter faded when he realized their closeness. Seungkwan’s scent, softened by the warmth of the sun and the dampness of the air, hit him stronger this time.

Without meaning to, his gaze lingered a bit longer on the flush of Seungkwan’s cheeks. Seungkwan noticed him and froze. “…What are you staring at?”

Vernon straightened, tone softer now, “Nothing. Just… you look less like you want to bite my head off when you’re quiet.”

Seungkwan blinked, caught off guard by the sudden gentleness. He turned away quickly, muttering, “You are impossible,” as he wrung out his sleeves.

But his heart was beating just a little bit faster.

As the sun began to dip lower, casting long shadows across the land, Seungcheol and Jeonghan returned to the small pavilion at the edge of the village. There, for the first time since the drought began, there was space for them to breathe. The earth was still cracked and thirsty, but the signs of recovery were there, like the first faint stirrings of life in a wound that had yet to heal.

Jeonghan stood by the window, watching the workers in the distance. His heart, heavy with the weight of their shared struggles, felt lighter now, partly because of the work, but also because of the quiet connection that had deepened between him and Seungcheol. It wasn’t a forceful thing. It was simply there, a current, a shared rhythm that neither could ignore anymore.

Seungcheol stepped behind him, his footsteps as sure and strong as ever. He did not speak at first. Instead, he reached out, his hand settling on Jeonghan’s shoulder with an almost possessive gentleness.

Jeonghan turned slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. The words that had once felt so heavy now came easily.

“We will rebuild,” Jeonghan said quietly, voice thick with the promise of all that was yet to come.

Seungcheol’s lips curved up, the first soft smile that reached his eyes in days. “Together.”

And then, with an unspoken understanding, Seungcheol took his hand, drawing Jeonghan closer. Their lips met again not with the feverish hunger of desperation, but with the quiet recognition that whatever the world demanded of them next, they would face it united.

Jeonghan pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against Seungcheol’s. “We’ve come this far. There’s nothing we cannot endure.”

Seungcheol’s arms wrapped around him, holding him close. His words were barely a whisper, “And there’s no one I’d rather face it with.”

Jeonghan smiled softly, the weight of the night’s work and the promise of the future pressing gently on his heart. “No one else, General. No one else.”

The sun was sinking beneath the horizon, painting the sky in shades of crimson and gold. Jeonghan stood alone by the riverbank, watching the water move with slow grace, its ripples soft, as if it, too, was contemplating the past. His fingers traced the surface of the water, watching it slip through his grasp, as though the flow of time itself was something he could never hold.

His mind, restless as the evening breeze, wandered to places he had long tried to forget.

‘How many times had I stood at this very river, in a different life?’

The thought came unbidden, but it struck him nonetheless, as sharp as any memory of a past that had long since faded into the shadows of his mind. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the haunting images, faces of the dead, of those he had failed, of a life that had been cut short, cruelly and unfairly.

I remember...

He had been a helpless Omega in another life, far from the Omega he had become, living in the shadow of politics, court intrigues, and cold ambition. He had once loved someone deeply, but in that life, his love had been a weapon, a tool for others to manipulate. He had been powerless, unable to fight for himself or for those he cared about. In the end, his fate had been sealed by the very people he had once loved and cared for.

‘I died a coward.’

The thought created a dull ache in his chest, a truth that he had carried with him for far too long. In that life, he had watched as everything he had ever cherished was taken from his lover, his family, everything else. Even Seungcheol, the respected Northern Duke, had fallen. And in the end, the price of that failure had been his death.

The pain of those final moments, the betrayal, the heartbreak, it had haunted him, even in death.

But now…

Now, here, in this life, things were different. ‘I can change it.’

He felt the weight of the thought settle in his chest, heavy and urgent. He wasn't just a passive player in the grand game anymore. He had power, yes, power that he had discovered not in the court, not in wealth or influence, but in the people around him. In his connection with the land. In his bond with the general.

‘I will not let the past repeat itself.’

His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he was struck by the peacefulness of it all.

‘I will not let him die again.’

The thought was a vow, a promise that burned in his chest with the intensity of a flame. Seungcheol, standing so strong and resolute beside him, was no longer just a fleeting memory of a past life. He was here, alive, and more than ever, Jeonghan could feel the weight of the responsibility to protect him. To fight for him. To stand beside him, not as the helpless omega he once was, but as an equal, as someone who could shape the future.

‘In the past, I watched him fall… but now, I will be the one to lift him.’

The conviction surged through him, stronger than anything he had ever known. The grief, the pain, the fear, it was all there, a shadow in the distance, but it no longer ruled him. He had learned from his past mistakes. He had learned the value of standing firm, of loving without hesitation, of leading with a quiet strength that didn’t need to demand power.

He turned his gaze to the distant silhouette of Seungcheol, now standing in the doorway of the pavilion, his figure strong against the fading light. He could feel the bond between them, unspoken but undeniable.

Jeonghan knew, without a doubt, that he could not allow history to repeat itself. Not this time. Not with him. And not with the General.

‘I will not fail him again.’

With that thought, Jeonghan finally let go of the heavy weight of his past life. It no longer had a claim on him. What mattered now was the future, the present, and the strength he could give the man he loved.

He took one final look at Seungcheol and made his decision.

‘I will change this. I will save him.’

And for the first time, he felt the stirrings of peace settle in his heart, knowing that this time, he would not falter. He would fight. He would save the Duke. And together, they would face whatever came next, no longer burdened by the ghosts of the past.

The sun rose in muted hues, as if it, too, could feel the growing heaviness in the air. The usual bustling sounds of the countryside had been replaced by a tense silence. Only the distant cries of frightened children and the frantic steps of villagers filled the morning.

Jeonghan stood by the window of the pavilion, his gaze distant. It had only been a few days since the crisis of the drought had passed, and they had begun the slow, painstaking work of rebuilding. There was no rainfall, yet the rivers flowed again, and the land, though scarred, was beginning to show signs of life. But now… a new shadow loomed over them.

From outside, the sound of hurried steps reached Jeonghan's ears. He turned just in time to see one of the village healers burst through the door, face pale, eyes wide with fear.

"Master Yoon! The illness... it has begun to spread. People are collapsing, children, elders... everyone," the healer gasped, clutching a bundle of herbs in her shaking hands.

Jeonghan's heart skipped a beat. Seungcheol, who had been at his side in the pavilion, immediately moved to her side, his face hardening.

"How many have fallen ill?" he asked, his voice cold, but there was a tremor in it, an undercurrent of worry that couldn’t be hidden.

The healer swallowed, her voice a hushed whisper. "At least a dozen. And the fever... It’s unlike anything we’ve seen. People are coughing blood, their bodies wasting away before our eyes."

Jeonghan felt the room close in on him, the weight of responsibility settling like a thick cloak. He’d fought so hard to protect these people, to make things right again. And now… now this?

The sun was high in the sky, casting a light on the village where death and despair seemed to hang in the air like an inescapable fog. Jeonghan stood at the center of the village, surrounded by Seungcheol, Seungcheol’s army, his people, and a group of villagers, the panic now palpable as people rushed from house to house, tending to the sick.

Seungcheol was beside him, his expression unreadable, his hand lightly gripping Jeonghan’s arm.

"They're calling it the 'Great Fever,'" Seonghwa explained, his voice hushed. "No one knows where it came from. People say it started at the eastern edge of the fields, and it’s spreading fast."

Jeoghan closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of the situation sinking in. The drought had taken so much from them, and now this… The land had been kind again, but now it was as though nature itself was turning against them.

"I’ll organize the men and women to set up a quarantine area," Seungcheol said, his voice cold, commanding. "We need to keep the infected separated from the healthy, or else it’ll spread even faster."

Jeonghan nodded, his heart heavy. "We’ll need more than that. We need to understand what we’re dealing with. We can’t afford to wait for the court’s help; we need to find the source of this plague ourselves."

Seungcheol’s eyes softened for a fraction of a second, his gaze flicking briefly to Jeonghan. "Then we’ll do it. Together."

But even as the words left his mouth, they both knew the truth: they were standing on the verge of something darker than they had ever faced.

With the sun now dipping low, the air grew thick with the scent of dust and desperation. Jeonghan, wearing a simple robe to blend in with the villagers, moved among them, trying to assess the situation, to find any clue, anything that might help. Seungcheol was nearby, coordinating efforts to isolate the sick from the healthy, his figure imposing and sharp even as he worked tirelessly in the sweltering heat.

As Jeonghan knelt beside a young child, his hand trembling as he checked the feverish forehead, his mind raced. How had this happened? How had something so destructive come upon them so suddenly, so without warning?

He stood up, eyes scanning the horizon. Something was wrong; he could feel it in his bones.

Suddenly, a villager ran toward him, her face a mix of terror and confusion. “Commandery Prince, it’s happening faster than we thought. People are dying by the hour. There’s no time left!”

Jeonghan’s heart dropped into his stomach, and before he could speak, Seungcheol was beside him, his voice sharp with authority.

“Tell us what you’ve seen,” he demanded.

The middle-aged Beta woman, gasping for air, nodded quickly. “It’s… It’s the well. The one near the old temple. I think it’s been tainted. People who drank from it… They’re the first to fall ill.”

A sickening chill ran down Jeonghan’s spine. The well near the old temple… He had always avoided it, remembering the eerie stories that had been passed down through the generations. It had been abandoned for years, considered a cursed place, but now the plague had centered around it?

The Old Temple — Nightfall

Under the cover of darkness, Seungcheol and Jeonghan arrived at the temple, the air thick with tension. The moon hung like a ghost in the sky, casting long shadows over the crumbling stone structures.

Seungcheol moved ahead, his eyes scanning the ruins, the silent warrior at the ready. Jeonghan walked beside him, his heart pounding. The stories he had heard as a child about the temple, the whispers of curses and vengeful spirits, seemed like distant echoes now, but as he stepped inside the ancient structure, a part of him couldn’t help but feel the weight of those old superstitions pressing down on him.

“There,” Seungcheol said, pointing toward the well, its water dark and still, a stark contrast to the dry landscape around it.

Jeonghan moved forward cautiously, kneeling at the edge. His fingers hovered just above the water, feeling the thick, stagnant air that hung over it.

“We need to test it,” he murmured, but before he could reach for any tools, Seungcheol’s voice stopped him.

“Be careful, angel. If this well is the source of the plague…”

“I know,” Jeonghan said quietly, cutting him off. “But we can’t turn back now.”

With a deep breath, Jeonghan dropped a sample vial into the murky water. When he pulled it back, the liquid inside was clouded, an unsettling red tint swirling at the edges.

He stood up sharply. “This is it. This water is the source. It's tainted with something, something ancient…”

Before Jeonghan could say more, a distant cry echoed through the night air: a woman’s voice, desperate and filled with pain. Seungcheol’s eyes snapped to Jeonghan’s, both of them understanding the same thing.

Time was running out.

Back at the village, the villagers were gathered in a panic, some kneeling by their loved ones, others trying in vain to help. Jeonghan and Seungcheol returned to the heart of the village, the weight of the situation pressing down on them.

“I will gather a team to drain the well and purify it,” Seungcheol said, voice firm, his eyes narrowing with determination.

The following morning, the villagers were in a state of panic, but with Seungcheol’s unflinching leadership, order was maintained. He had already organized a perimeter around the quarantined area, and soldiers were stationed at strategic points to keep the plague from spreading further.

Prince of Dingbei’s palace

Orchid Courtyard

Back at the capital, the rebellious Prince of Dingbei paced back and forth in his dimly lit chambers, the darkened tapestries on the walls fluttering as if they were alive with energy. Jeonghan nodded, but as the night deepened and the scent of burnt herbs clung to the air, his thoughts remained unsettled. The illness that had gripped the village wasn’t following the usual patterns too swiftly, too severely. He and Seungcheol had done what they could, setting up triage, isolating the sick, and rationing clean water, but even those measures seemed like trying to hold back a flood with bare hands.

As he paced outside the temporary infirmary, a rider’s hooves pounded into the village square. Under the light of the torches, Jeonghan recognized the slim, dust-covered figure even before he dismounted.

“Jihoon?” Jeonghan rushed forward. “You came.”

Jihoon, flushed from travel but steady as ever, nodded crisply. “Your message reached the capital. Master Tan sent me ahead with written authority and medicines. I reviewed your notes on the symptoms on the ride here. It’s not natural. Someone tampered with the water.”

Together, they stood beside the old well outside the dilapidated temple, a site that once offered purity, now steeped in suspicion. Jihoon knelt beside it, examining the reddish tinge in the water with clinical detachment.

“I’ve seen this before,” Jihoon murmured, uncorking a vial from his physician’s kit. “In a border town last winter. Arsenic, or a similar compound. Someone’s been poisoning the source. It builds in the body, causes fever, convulsions, death if untreated.”

Jeonghan’s stomach turned. “So it’s deliberate.”

Jihoon glanced up at his brother, voice cool. “Either deliberate or criminally negligent. And someone in this village knows.”

Behind them, Seungcheol approached, his expression grim. “The steward has been refusing to open his grain stores. When I pressed him, he accused Jeonghan of bringing bad luck.”

Jihoon snorted. “Typical. When disease comes, people blame those trying to help.”

He stood, brushing off his knees. “We’ll need to sample the other wells. I brought dried reagents that can detect common poisons. I’ll send a report to the Imperial Medical Bureau. If this is systemic, they’ll investigate.”

Jeonghan glanced between them, his voice low. “This isn’t just about medicine anymore. Someone wanted the villagers sick. Or gone.”

Jihoon’s gaze was hard. “Then we’ll uncover the truth. I didn’t come all this way just to treat fevers.”

As the night deepened, the three of them moved as one soldier, healer, and noble, unraveling a quiet conspiracy under the guise of disease. And for the first time in days, Jeonghan felt the flicker of hope rise in his chest.

Not because they were safe but because he was no longer alone.

A sealed scroll lay before him on the altar, stamped with the insignia of a forbidden physician’s guild disbanded decades ago. The candlelight glinted off the gold lacquer of his robe, but his expression remained unreadable. Only his eyes betrayed the hunger within him, ambition sharpened by years of resentment.

“It’s nearly time,” Prince of Dingbei whispered, as if testing the weight of his own words.

He had lived most of his life in the shadow of the late Crown Prince, the favored son of the former Emperor. Though polished in courtly manners and beloved in the northern provinces, Dingbei was always second, tolerated, never trusted. But in secret, he had cultivated alliances beyond the reach of the capital. Among discontented physicians and exiled scholars, he’d discovered a silent weapon: weaponized illness.

When the drought came and the court ignored the suffering of the outlying provinces, he saw his opportunity. Poisoned wells. Spoiled grain. Deliberate spread of contaminated supplies along caravan routes. It was not magic, it was the cold calculus of sacrifice. If the land was sick, if the people cried for order, then he would offer the cure. And from that cure, control.

He knew of Seungcheol, too honorable, too loyal, and Jeonghan, whose sudden rise threatened to unify the palace behind him. Their bond, their strength, would disrupt everything. Dingbei’s informants in the capital whispered of Jeonghan’s influence growing by the day. It had to be broken. If fear and disease didn’t drive them apart, then perhaps public failure would.

The empire was on the verge of collapse. Prince of  Dingbei only needed to give it the final push.

Back in the village, the stench of rot hung low in the air as Jeonghan stood in the square, watching the flickering torches mark the edges of the quarantine zone. People moved with quiet desperation—carrying buckets of water, tending the sick, or praying beneath cloth banners inscribed with prayers.

Seungcheol approached with heavy steps, exhaustion lining his face. “We’ve cordoned off the infected. Jihoon and I are monitoring new cases. But if we can’t stop the source…”

“I know who’s behind it.” Jeonghan’s voice was quiet, firm. “It’s the Prince of Dingbei.”

Seungcheol blinked. “Him?”

“He’s exploiting the drought. Poisoning wells, destabilizing grain routes. It’s not just disease, it’s coordinated. He’s using the people’s fear to rally support behind him, to present himself as the savior when chaos spreads.”

Jihoon emerged from behind them, a medical scroll in his hand. “I found records of shipments rerouted through Liangzhou months ago, grain caravans that never reached the outer provinces. Some of the merchants... they were paid by one of Dingbei’s vassals.”

Seungcheol’s jaw clenched. “So it’s treason.”

Jeonghan nodded. “But if we strike too soon, he’ll use it to fuel his narrative. We need proof. And we need to heal this village first.”

Jihoon glanced between them. “I’ll keep analyzing the contaminants. If I can trace the poison’s exact origin, it may be enough to appeal to the Imperial Court.”

Seungcheol reached out, his hand briefly resting on Jeonghan’s shoulder, grounding them both. “We’ll fix this. And when we face him, we won’t be alone.”

Jeonghan looked back toward the village, eyes burning with a quiet resolve. “This isn’t just about stopping a plague anymore. This is about stopping a man who would burn the empire just to sit on its ashes.”

Together, they turned toward the darkness toward truth, justice, and the firestorm ahead.

Imperial Capital — Pre-dawn

On top of a quiet tower on the northern edge of the Inner Court, the Prince of Dingbei stood still, hands clasped behind his back as the first weak light of dawn touched the tiles of the palace rooftops. Below him, the capital city stirred in ignorance, unaware of the slow rot he had planted months ago, now spreading like a silent fire.

It was all coming together.

Reports had trickled in: outbreaks of illness in the countryside, failed grain shipments, growing unrest among border provinces. Whispers of dissatisfaction among minor lords. A court too distracted by bureaucracy to act swiftly. And above all, no word from the Emperor.

The village near the old temple was only the beginning. If panic spread and the government failed to respond, the people would begin to doubt. And when the people lost faith, they would look for someone else to follow.

‘Him.’

Quarantined Village — Seungcheol’s Command Tent, Nightfall

The air inside the tent was heavy with smoke and silence. A single oil lamp cast flickering shadows across a large map sprawled across the table. Seungcheol leaned forward, tracing the line between Liangzhou and the capital with a tense finger. Jeonghan sat across from him, unrolling another medical report. Jihoon had prepared lists of infected households, symptoms tracked by day.

“This village wasn’t chosen at random,” Seungcheol muttered. “It sits on one of the key trade arteries for the northern provinces. Once the disease spreads from here, it moves fast along caravans, soldiers, even messengers.”

Jeonghan nodded grimly. “He’s using geography as a weapon. Sabotaging water sources, delaying grain, releasing infected supplies. It’s coordinated. This isn’t just a rebellion. It’s engineered collapse.”

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened, his eyes scanning the map again. “But why start here? He could have gone straight for the capital. Why this place?”

Jeonghan’s voice dropped. “Because this is where you’re strongest. Where people know your name and trust your command. If he can turn your home into a zone of failure and fear, he undermines you before you ever set foot in court.”

Seungcheol stilled, the meaning settling in.

Jeonghan didn’t stop. “It’s not just a move against the empire. It’s personal. Dingbei sees you as his greatest obstacle. This village, this illness, it’s a warning. If he can fracture your reputation among the people, he weakens the one thing he fears: your loyalty and their faith in you.”

There was a long pause.

Finally, Seungcheol met Jeonghan’s gaze. “So he wants to break me.”

Jeonghan’s voice was quiet, but resolute. “Yes. But he doesn’t know that you won’t break. Not here. Not now. And not while we’re still standing.”

Seungcheol let out a slow breath, his shoulders squared by something fiercer than resolve—defiance.

“We stop the disease,” he said, his tone steady. “We protect the people. And when the court finally looks our way, we give them the proof they need to see what Dingbei is.”

Jeonghan’s hand moved to rest lightly on the edge of the map. “Then we start tonight. With Jihoon’s findings, and what we’ve uncovered, we push back.”

Side by side, under dim lamplight, the two of them continued planning not just for the village’s survival, but for the battle to come.

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened. “He’s underestimating me.”

Two Days Later – Border Village of Yinshi

Rain battered the rooftops as the messenger galloped into Seungcheol’s camp, his cloak soaked and face pale. He barely dismounted before falling to one knee before the general’s guards.

“Urgent report!” he gasped, pressing a sealed scroll into the guard’s hands. “An outbreak in Yinshi village, dozens sick already… and rising fast. They're blaming the soldiers. Riots have begun.”

Within minutes, Seungcheol and Jeonghan stood in the command tent again, joined by Jihoon and his apprentice from the capital clinic. The tension in the air was immediate.

Seungcheol unrolled the message with steady hands. “Yinshi is only twenty li away. They say the illness is similar—fever, bleeding gums, vomiting. But they’re accusing the military patrols of spreading it.”

Jihoon leaned over the report, eyes sharp. “It’s the same strain, but it mutated. Faster onset. Likely because of bad sanitation after the flooding last week.” His fingers tapped against the inked medical notes. “And now they're panicking. Fear always spreads faster than illness.”

Jeonghan stood still for a moment before turning to Seungcheol. “This is exactly what Dingbei wanted. He’s sowing distrust between the military and the people. If another village falls into chaos, word will reach the capital that you’ve lost control of your command.”

The Alpha’s eyes narrowed. “Then I’ll ride to Yinshi myself.”

“No.” Jeonghan stepped forward. “You’re the symbol of order here. If you leave this village while it’s still recovering, the people will believe you’ve abandoned them. I’ll go.”

Seungcheol stared at him. “It’s dangerous.”

“I know,” Jeonghan said. “But I’ll take Jihoon. And your fastest riders. We bring medical aid, quarantine procedures, and show them that you didn’t turn your back on them—you sent your own family.”

Jihoon gave a tight nod. “I’ve prepared field kits. If we move quickly, we can still control the narrative. Calm the crowds, treat the sick, and get clean water distributed.”

A long silence passed. Then Seungcheol finally said, “Take Commander Lee’s unit. Full escort. No compromises on safety.”

Jeonghan offered a soft smile, reassuring despite the storm outside. “We’ve been through worse, Seungcheol.”

The Alpha reached out briefly, fingers brushing Jeonghan’s wrist. “Come back safe.”

And so, as the skies opened above and the land trembled under the weight of fear, Jeonghan and Jihoon rode toward Yinshi armed not with weapons, but with medicine, strategy, and the quiet determination to preserve what the rebellion sought to destroy: trust.

The village of Yinshi was no longer spiraling into chaos. Smoke no longer rose from homes, and the sound of wailing had given way to cautious hope.

In the temple courtyard, Jeonghan and Jihoon moved with precision. What began as emergency triage had evolved into a makeshift field clinic. Straw mats were arranged into clean rows. Buckets of boiled water stood beside stacks of herbal poultices. The scent of mugwort, dried ginger, and chrysanthemum filled the air.

Jihoon gave quiet instructions to the younger villagers, training them to change soaked compresses and measure pulse rhythms.

“No bloodletting,” he said firmly to an old healer. “This isn’t a curse, it’s an infection, likely from contaminated groundwater.”

“Herbal decoction every four hours,” Jeonghan added, adjusting a sleeping child’s blanket. “Then clean water boiled. And rest. No incense smoke inside the sickroom. Fresh air helps.”

Seungcheol, though not trained in medicine, led the coordination of supplies. Under his direction, the soldiers and villagers erected isolation tents, dug clean drainage channels, and built a new covered well uphill. He checked on the elderly himself, carrying wood or lifting water barrels when needed.

“I don’t know how you manage to lead and haul buckets at the same time,” Jeonghan teased one night, wiping his brow.

Seungcheol smiled faintly. “I learned from an Omega who gives orders while stitching wounds.”

By the sixth day, the fever cases dropped sharply. No new patients appeared. Jihoon ran a second round of water tests using the reagents he brought from the capital.

“It’s clear,” he said simply, holding the vial up to the sunlight. “We’ve contained it.”

A hush fell over them. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

The village headman approached with teary eyes and dropped to his knees, but Jeonghan quickly pulled him up.

“No need for that,” Jeonghan said, voice soft but firm. “Just promise you’ll keep the well covered, and listen when the healers speak even if they’re young.”

The villagers, once gripped by terror, now offered bowls of rice, warm sweet cakes, and preserved apricots to the medical team. Children followed Jihoon around with wide eyes, marveling at his copper instruments.

That night, lanterns were lit all across Yinshi not for mourning, but in celebration.

Jeonghan stood on the porch of the temple, watching the warm glow ripple through the streets. Jihoon sat beside him, silently sipping tea, the weariness finally catching up to both of them.

“Did you ever think it’d end like this?” Jihoon asked.

“No,” Jeonghan whispered. “But I’m grateful it did.”

Seungcheol emerged from the crowd, his sleeves rolled up, hands dusted with flour. He had been helping make steamed buns with the villagers.

“They made me the honorary cook,” he said with mock seriousness.

Jeonghan laughed for the first time in days.

And beneath the gentle hum of village song and starlight, they stood together—an Alpha, an Omega, and a healer—knowing they had saved not just lives, but hope.

As the first light of dawn broke over the village, the sickness that had ravaged the land began to lift. Seungcheol and Jeonghan stood side by side, watching the villagers rise from their quarantine, their faces full of hope once more.

The war was far from over, but they had won this battle.

A silver bell tolled from the watchtower as banners bearing the seal of the Duke of Kim’s family fluttered in the warm summer breeze. The village had slowly begun to breathe again. The plague had been halted, the water purified, and the people saved, but the wounds of crisis were not so easily healed.

Jeonghan stood at the center of the courtyard in white robes embroidered with silver cloud motifs. His hair, bound with a jade clasp, shone under the sun. Seungcheol stood behind him, his armor exchanged for dark ceremonial attire, though his presence remained just as commanding.

Dozens of villagers and soldiers had gathered. Whispers swirled among the crowd like dust.

“They say Prince Jeonghan owns more than half the trade ships in the country…”

“He’s the one behind the merchant pavilions in Jingzhou, and the silk guild in Baisha…”

“An omega, controlling wealth that could shake the court…”

The elder of the village, dressed in ceremonial blue robes, stepped forward. “Prince, we’ve heard… you’ve prepared something for the village’s rebuilding.”

Jeonghan nodded gently. He turned and motioned to the side. Immediately, an entourage of stewards stepped forward, their arms burdened with scrolls and ledgers, seals and account books. Behind them came carts, dozens of them, bearing crates filled with silver taels, bolts of rare silk, medicinal herbs, grains, tools, and books.

Gasps filled the courtyard.

Jeonghan’s voice was calm, but clear and resonant.

“The drought and plague have taken too much from this land. This village, once thriving, became a battlefield. But no more. I, Jeonghan, descendant of the Kim lineage, owner of the Yanzhao Commercial House, hereby donate one hundred thousand taels in silver, two years’ worth of grain, and the resources needed to rebuild homes, schools, and farms. Furthermore, I will establish a permanent medical hall here, under my patronage.”

The crowd was stunned into silence.

Even Seungcheol, so rarely shaken, turned to Jeonghan with a flicker of awe in his gaze. His lips parted slightly, but no words came.

The elder bowed deeply. “Master Yoon… your generosity will not be forgotten.”

One by one, the villagers dropped to their knees, bowing in gratitude. Some wept openly. A child clutched his mother’s sleeve and whispered, “Is that the god of wealth?”

Jeonghan’s eyes softened, and he chuckled softly.

The Capital — Imperial Court

A Few Days Later

A court attendant knelt before the Emperor, his voice firm as he read aloud the report:

“...And Prince Yoon Jeonghan, eldest Omega son of Duke Kim, has donated over one hundred thousand taels, with resources to rebuild five villages and establish long-term social infrastructure, using funds from his privately held merchant guilds.”

The court fell into murmurs. A few officials looked stunned. Ministers supporting Prince of Dingbei exchanged uneasy glances. But the Emperor only raised an eyebrow slightly, his fingers brushing his chin.

A smile touched the corner of his lips.

“Jeonghan… an omega with the insight of a minister and the mercy of a ruler.”

He turned back towards the back, where the Empress Dowager sat upon a raised seat covered with silk screens.

“Mother, you were right. He truly is as capable as you said, inspiring for the Omega of the country.”

The Empress Dowager smiled softly and agreed with a nod. She felt proud of Jeonghan.

He turned to the Chancellor. “Draw up a decree. He is to be honored with the Jade Orchid Medal of Benevolence. And summon him to the capital.”

The courtiers could not hide their unease.

An omega… receiving an imperial commendation? From wealth not inherited, but built?

The court had never seen anything like it.

Back in the Village, Jeonghan stood on the high stone terrace of the ancestral hall, the wind tousling a few strands of his hair. Seungcheol approached quietly.

“You should have told me,” the Alpha said softly.

Jeonghan turned to him, the glow of the setting sun casting golden light across his face. “Told you what?”

“That you command enough wealth to rival some princely estates.”

Jeonghan smiled faintly. “I didn’t think it mattered until now.”

“It matters,” Seungcheol said, stepping closer. His voice dropped. “Because every time I believe I know all that you are… You reveal another part of yourself that leaves me speechless.”

Jeonghan looked at him, the edges of his expression softening into something unreadable.

Seungcheol reached forward, brushing a wind-swept strand of hair behind the Omega’s ear.

 The Village — Nightfall

Children laughed in the background, fires burned in the open square as villagers shared a rare night of peace. And from the shadows of the trees beyond the village, a pair of watchful eyes observed the celebration.

A shadowy rider, dressed in dark robes with a red serpent embroidery, tightened the reins of his steed.

“Jeonghan,” the man muttered. “Even without a noble position, you stir the empire.”

He turned his horse and galloped into the night, heading toward Prince of Dingbei’s private camp.

The candlelight flickered over ornate tapestries depicting the Prince’s rise, casting serpentine shadows across the walls. Prince of Dingbei stood silently before them, his expression unreadable as he absorbed the report brought by his loyal aide.

“The Village of Yanzhao has received a donation of one hundred thousand taels from Jeonghan, along with rebuilding resources and an imperial commendation. He is to be awarded the Jade Orchid Medal of Benevolence.” Choi Jungil said in a strict tone.

Dingbei’s eyes darkened with unease. Broad and strong as he was, he appeared small in that spacious chamber crushed beneath shadows of his grand ambition.

He turned slowly, voice low and cold:

“Jeonghan… an Omega who commands gold as if born a Prince. He would eclipse the Crown, turn nobles toward his gateway of wealth and kindness.”

He gripped the pommel of a dagger hanging at his belt, its steel reflecting the candlelight.

“An Omega gilded by the court himself… The people will flock to his side, and the nobility will follow.”

His lip curled into a smile both cruel and calculating.

Eunseo spoke up in a curt voice while grasping her robes.

“No… He will be a threat. I will watch him. And when the time is right,” her fingers tapped the table, “I will cut him down.”

 Imperial Capital

Grand Hall

The palace’s Grand Hall was resplendent in gold filigree, deep crimson drapes, and marble pillars. Noble families, ministers, and military leaders all gathered to witness this extraordinary ceremony. The Emperor sat upon his throne, the Jade Orchid Medal gleaming at his side.

Silence fell as the Eunuch announced, “By the emperor’s decree, Commandery Prince Yoon Jeonghan of the Southern Duke’s house, founder of the Yanzhao Guilds, is awarded the Jade Orchid Medal of Benevolence for his generosity to the rural provinces.”

At once, chamber doors opened to reveal Jeonghan, dressed in a custom-tailored red silk robe, trimmed in gold thread echoing the court’s colors. His posture was perfect, shoulders squared, head raised, refinement and purpose woven into each movement.

Gasps rippled across the hall. A section of nobles murmured,

“An Omega... and yet his wealth rivals Princely estates.”

“The Emperor’s favor. He must truly be extraordinary.”

Jeonghan’s gaze swept the hall. He paused at the foot of the throne and offered a graceful bow.

The Emperor studied him, then nodded approvingly and handed him the medal, the skillfully carved jade orchid, symbol of compassion and charity. The gem sparkled in Jeonghan’s palm like captured dawn.

A wave of applause swept through silk and steel alike.

The gathering transformed into a formal reception. All customary courtesy and subtle rivalries flickered between courtiers as they vied for Jeonghan’s attention. He accepted pleasantries with dignified warmth.

Lady Mei Lin, green-sleeved and delicate, said in a snarky voice, “Prince Jeonghan, your generosity is remarkable. I hope to learn from your governance of the southern estates.”

Choi Jungil said in a cold tone, “Prince, you drive more influence now than any other Omega. It’s... unsettling.”

Jeonghan tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Influence or duty, Young Master, we serve the realm best when we serve its people.”

His quiet strength shifted the tone in the room. Whispers of admiration bloomed like lanterns in dusk.

Seungcheol’s gaze followed him. Impressed by the Omega, his thoughts were full of respect for the Omega.

Later, Jeonghan stood by a wide window overlooking lantern-lit courtyards. The city’s pulse was alive below, flags, robes, servants, carriages moving like part of the great living organism that was the Empire.

He turned at the sound of Seungcheol’s near-silent entrance.

Seungcheol, hands tucked behind, wore a look of both pride and caution.

Jeonghan offered a small smile. “Today… I became more than an Omega. I became a beacon of hope for the Omega.”

He gazed at the medal resting on the dresser.

The Alpha moved close, voice low yet unwavering: “You are more than titles or wealth. You are the hope of many, and the envy of few.”

Jeonghan nodded, meeting his gaze. “I know not all smiles in that hall were kind. Prince of Dingbei watches. He will not come to me as a friend.”

The Duke’s eyes darkened. “Then we guard. We stand. We shall not let his schemes succeed.”

Jeonghan stepped forward, lips brushing Seungcheol’s neck. “With you… I can stand taller than ever.”

He reached out to the medal and held it between them, its light reflecting off their faces, symbols of new prominence and steadfast unity.

As time passed, Jeonghan had soared, ascending from a helpless Omega to a drought-stricken village savior, to one of the Empire’s most respected Omegas. He wielded wealth with compassion, influence with dignity, and stood quietly powerful amid intrigue.

Yet even as his acclaim bloomed like rare night jasmine, Prince of Dingbei’s shadow deepened. A delicate dance had begun at court, a mix of reverence and rivalry, of adoration and envy.

And at the center of it stood Jeonghan, the Omega who chose not to hide his worth, who chose to love, to build, and to challenge destiny.

Chapter Text

The Duke of Dingbei’s grand dining hall was filled in candlelight and silk. High-ranking nobles clustered in small groups, their laughter hushed, eyes shining like coiled vipers. Prince of Dingbei stood behind a filigreed jade pillar, speaking low to a trusted advisor.

“Jeonghan’s popularity is toxic at its roots,” he murmured, voice soft, lethal as falling snow.

“The Emperor’s favour might prop him now, but favors can sour.” Eunseo replied.

A gold-embroidered scroll was laid out on the marble table, containing a ledger of Jeonghan’s trade routes, families under his patronage, and regional influence.

“We will not destroy him in plain sight,” Choi Jungil continued. “First, we pull his supporters away, nudge the regional leaders, give them better trade pacts in exchange for aligning away from him. Let them whisper that his wealth is a threat. That the Empire cannot trust an Omega with so much power.”

Grand Tutor bowed, whispering, “Yes, Your Highness. We have planted our men all across the Empire. A few choice rumors, a slight redistribution of wealth—”

Dingbei’s lips curved into a slow, calculated smile.

“Perfect. And when he is isolated, then we see how he holds up without his wealth… or without me ready to strike.”

Eunseo’s smile glinted behind her eyes, “And with me at the household, I would like to see how he escapes.”

Behind the smile lay a promise of confrontation, one that would shatter the fragile peace of the court.

Morning Council in the Imperial Garden

In the glimmering light of dawn, courtiers and officials gathered beneath sculpted pavilions overlooking the pond. Jeonghan entered, calm and poised.

A hush spread, noble Omegas whispered in admiration, concubines stole furtive glances.

Lady Wei Xia approached quietly, “Prince Yoon, I hope your business endeavors in the south are thriving. The area flourishes under your care.”

Jeonghan inclined his head. “Thanks to many, may we do the same for the court.”

Nearby the Grand Tutor, muttered under his breath, tone thinly polite, “Too many market towns, many grain caravans... I worry about Omega overreach.”

Jeonghan responded diplomatically, eyes unwavering, “Trade should serve the realm, not control it.”

The minister’s lips twitched. The Emperor watched from a nearby dais, eyes calm but alert.

Ambassadors from the Southern Noble stepped forward, offering carved jade and exotic silk from Jeonghan’s sponsored guilds as tribute.

“Your contributions bring prosperity,” one said. “May your vision guide our realm.”

Noble factions shifted uneasily, some drawn to Jeonghan’s generosity, others bristling at the power behind the wealth.

Jeonghan managed them all with quiet confidence. He spoke on trade ethics, disaster relief, and rural infrastructure, all while avoiding boasting. His presence was a lesson in graceful power.

Seungcheol, standing a bit far from him, subtly signalled peers to show respect, no matter one’s status, Jeonghan was to be treated as a peer in influence.

That evening, in the palace’s grand banquet hall, silk lanterns glowed red and gold. A performance began, a court dance, celebrating recovery from the plague.

As dignitaries raised their cups of fine wine, the Prince of Dingbei appeared at the entrance, flanked by loyal guards. He carried a porcelain cup and offered a polite toast to Jeonghan, every word veiled in excessive praise.

“To Commandery Prince Yoon, whose generosity warms the realm…” his voice was coldly smooth.

The crowd lifted their glasses, but Jeonghan gently lowered his.

“Your Highness,” he inclined, “may wisdom guide all who wield fortune.”

There was a small, fleeting hush. Prince of Dingbei’s expression flickered, respect, sarcasm, and ambition warred across his face.

Seungcheol crossed beside Jeonghan and offered a toast of his own. Prince of Dingbei’s smile remained, but the fire in his eyes was sharper than before.

Later, Jeonghan and Seungcheol walked along a quiet terrace overlooking the extinguished courtyard lanterns.

Jeonghan held the Jade Orchid Medal in his hand, turning it over in the moonlight.

“He praises me to my face… but plants seeds of doubt behind my back.”

Seungcheol took his hand, intertwining fingers with a decisive grip.

“We anticipated this. Noble envy is a natural storm. But you climb on your merits. Not fear. Not whispered manipulation.”

Jeonghan exhaled slowly, leaning into the Alpha’s touch.

“I’m ready to show the realm the worth of mercy and vision, not mere wealth.”

Seungcheol brushed a stray lock of hair from Jeonghan’s brow, whispering,

“Then we build not just guilds, but alliances. Loyal hearts. We reveal the seeds behind Dingbei’s darkness.”

Jeonghan closed his eyes, leaning into the weight of the night.

“With you… I will shine even when shadows fall.”

It was the night of the Lotus Lantern festival, a day when the streets were alive with music and glowing lights, and everyone was busy enjoying their quiet moment. Jeoghan decided to spend the day outside of the Duke’s residence, in one of his mansions. He invited Seungcheol and told him to bring Dokyeom, Wonwoo, and Hansol with him.

Colourful silk lanterns hung from the gingko tree branches, their soft glow casting playful shadows across the courtyard. The scent of sweet pastries, wine, and tea filled the warm evening air.

Seungcheol sat at one of the low tables, carefully sipping tea. Tonight, his usual strictness was missing, his movements were calm, unhurried, and he looked like he was enjoying his time. Jeonghan lounged gracefully against a wooden pillar, his long hair loosely tied, and a faint smile danced across his lips.

On the stone table lay various snacks like Yakgwa, rice cakes, and bowls of candied fruits. Minghao and Junhui sat near the pond, folding paper boats. “Junhui hyung, your boat is crooked again,” Minghao remarked with brows furrowed as he straightened his own perfectly folded creation.

Junhui pouted, “It is not crooked, it is artistic HaoHao.”

“Artistic doesn’t mean it sinks,” Minghao said dryly, earning a laugh from Hansol, who was munching on a sweet pastry nearby.

Nearby, Soonyoung and Jihoon sipped tea softly while conversing together. Jihoon was busy reading one of the Coroner’s reports regarding a recent murder case.

While Jisoo strummed a guqin softly, the mellow notes blending with the breeze, the notes mesmerised Dokyeom, he couldn’t stop himself from looking at Jisoo.

While Seungkwan munched on an Osmanthus pastry and had a teasing interaction with Hansol.

 Mingyu arrived, slightly breathless, carrying an armful of freshly bought steamed buns shaped like little rabbits.

 “The streets were crowded with stalls, they were selling these rabbit buns everywhere,” Mingyu said while handing Jeonghan one of them.

“Let me see.” Jeonghan said as he grabbed the bun, “It’s cute,” as he took a bite,” and delicious.”

Jeonghan grinned in a teasing manner, “Mingyu-ah, did you charm the shop owner again?”

“What! NO!” Mingyu sputtered, drawing a small laugh from Wonwoo, which sounded like a melody to his ears.

Mingyu couldn’t help but turn back towards Wonwoo, offering him a bun, “Advisor Jeon…”

As Wonwoo took a bite of the bun, a wonderful burst of flavour danced across his mouth, warming him up from the inside.

As the night deepened, they kept on enjoying their time, while the lanterns illuminated the garden. Jisoo’s music travelled across the garden as Minghao’s paper boats floated lazily under the moonlit night.

As the others enjoyed their time, Jeonghan leaned a little closer to Seungcheol. The Omega’s voice was low enough that only the Alpha could hear.

“It is nice, isn’t it? Everyone is together like this. It is peaceful, isn’t it?”

Seungcheol didn’t answer with words, only handing him a cup of tea, their eyes met briefly, and around them laughter and chatter filled the air, bringing a moment of Peace. Where there were no duties, no worries about tomorrow, just quiet happiness shared by souls.

Imperial Palace

Garden of Tranquility

A soft drizzle touched the stone paths of the palace as spring blossoms clung to their final petals. Inside the Pavilion, known for receiving noble Omegas and hosting delicate court talks, Jeonghan sat poised in layered brocade the colour of burnt orange. His every breath was practiced grace, his smile faultless. But behind his calm was tension, a summons had come directly from the Empress Dowager.

Seated across from him, swathed in winter white and heirloom pearls, the Empress Dowager sipped chrysanthemum tea and observed him with narrowed, knowing eyes.

“Jeonghan,” she said, tone honey-smooth, “now that your deeds echo through every corridor of the capital, it is time we speak of duty.”

Jeonghan inclined his head. “I am always prepared to serve the realm, Your Majesty.”

She smiled thinly. “Then you should consider marriage, maybe some respecting Alpha or my son Prince Hyungwon. I think he would be a better choice as you both share refined tastes. The stars are aligned.”

There it was. A political noose in silk. Jeonghan’s throat tightened.

Prince Hyungwon, the Empress Dowager’s son, had always been... delicate, bookish, and polite. He was not cruel, but he was weak, easily swayed by his mother, and often lost in his own illusions of romance. He had once written Jeonghan a hundred poems, helped him in secret, but he never once stood up when court dogs whispered of Omega's inferiority.

Jeonghan forced a polite smile. “His Highness is of noble character. But I seek to devote myself fully to rebuilding the South, marriage, at this stage, would only bind me when I must act freely.”

The Empress Dowager’s fan still hung in the air. “Well, your marriage with him is also inclined for  the realm’s stability, is it not?”

There was a warning in her gaze. And beneath it, the unspoken threat, refuse my son, and you may find your alliances unravel.

Jreonghan bowed politely, “I will reflect on your proposal, Your Highness.”

At the Emperor’s command, perhaps steered by the Dowager, Jeonghan was “invited” to a formal viewing of potential Alpha suitors. Perhaps to prove how the prince would be a much better choice in comparison to certain Alphas. It was no secret that noble houses had begun submitting proposals. The garden, blooming with orchids and envy, hosted the capital’s most eligible Alpha bachelors. All cloaked in status. All are trained in charm.

And all, in Jeonghan’s eyes, were dangerous in their own ways.

Lord Hu Ren was a military commander with more pride than tact. He looked Jeonghan over like an estate.

“What an Omega like you needs,” he said, “is to stop this exhausting independence and focus on your duties. You could carry my heir before spring turns.”

Jeonghan’s smile chilled the air. “Perhaps you might carry your own ambitions first, My Lord.”

Scholar Lu Min was one of the young Imperial Academy scholars. He bowed lower than needed, but not out of respect, out of calculated performance.

“My wife will never worry about politics. They will remain serene, unbothered. I would never let them be fatigued with... managing people.”

Jeonghan tilted his head. “So your ideal partner is voiceless?”

The scholar reddened.

Seungcheol’s adopted son, Jungil, said, smiling too broadly, eyes skimming too low. He leaned close.

“Power is attractive on you. But don’t worry, once we marry, you’ll have peace. I’ll handle the realm.”

Jeonghan stepped back. “The realm has other protectors.”

Seungcheol, who had been watching from a nearby corridor, narrowed his eyes.

Later that evening, rain swept the covered veranda of Jeonghan’s residence. Seungcheol, who was silent most of the time, spoke first.

“You were to be admired. And instead, they treat you as if your brilliance is a threat.”

Jeonghan poured tea, his hands steady. “It is a threat. Because I won’t be silenced. Not by wealth. Not by courtly rituals. Not by a gilded cage of marriage.”

The Alpha stepped closer, eyes burning with both anger and something else, fear.

“If the Empress Dowager pushes this marriage, you’ll be bound to someone else maybe her son. Everything we built… will shift under you.”

Jeonghan met his eyes, finally speaking what had remained unsaid.

“And what of us? If I am dragged into a marriage I cannot refuse, will you still stand beside me?”

Silence lingered for a moment, then Seungcheol replied in a hoarse voice.

“I will burn down every corridor of the court before I let them take you from me.”

Their eyes locked with each other in tension, longing and promise.

Days later, Jeonghan requested a direct audience with the Emperor. Alone.

“Your Majesty,” he began, “I do not refuse marriage out of arrogance. But I built my influence to lift the forgotten. I am no jewel to be polished and placed in an Alpha’s hand.”

The Emperor regarded him, long and still. Then he spoke.

“The court fears what it cannot control. You are the first Omega in decades to rise by merit, not marriage. You remind them that the world can change.”

He leaned forward.

“You will not be forced into marriage. But neither will you be left unchallenged.”

Jeonghan bowed deeply. “I am ready for both, Your Majesty.”

After the meeting with the Emperor, Jeonghan returned to the household.

As he nursed a cup of tea, he thought to himself, ‘This time, I will not be chosen. I will choose.’

On the other hand, the Dowager Empress was concocting her own plans. She inhaled a few deliberate breaths, then tapped a jade box three times against the lacquered table. Instantly, two maids knelt and opened it.

Inside lay a single gold-threaded robe, a ceremonial gift for Prince Hyungwon. But she placed a small, ancient hairpin atop it, a jewel rumored to bond Alphas and Omegas even if they didn’t want it.

She told one of the maids to bring the hairpin to Jeonghan, telling her, “Tell him to wear this hairpin tomorrow while coming to meet me.”

She ordered another maid to bring the robe to Prince Hyungwon.

As the maids went on their way, she thought to himself, “Now, I would like to see how Jeonghan can escape this plan.”

As Jeonghan prepared to meet the Empress Dowager, moonlight filtered across silk screens. Suddenly, he heard someone arriving at his room. As he turned to look at the person, it was Seungcheol, the Alpha, who was clad in a pale grey robe, his face was void of any happiness.

He stepped forward, eyes dark with urgency, “The Dowager plans to bind you and the Prince spiritually. With that, the Prince will have claim over you, not in honor, but as property.”

Jeonghan’s temples throbbed. “I cannot become a symbol of weakness.”

He met the Alpha’s gaze.

“You said you'd burn the palace for me. Now... we leave.”

A pack of essentials was tucked into a saddlebag. The two moved silently through secret pathways in the deepest of shadows.

At the city gates, Seungcheol signaled a loyal commander, and a small escort awaited them. Jeonghan stepped before a black stallion, eyes set with fierce determination.

He turned back to the glittering palace, “I owe everything to this land, but I won’t be caged.” He said in a strict voice.

Seungcheol lifted him onto the horse. Whispered orders. The gates parted. And under the hush of dawn, they vanished from the city grounds.

The news of Jeonghan’s disappearance shattered the dawn’s calm.

Inside the palace, the Empress Dowager stood motionless beneath the painted canopy of her private court, her gaze as sharp as a dagger drawn. An attendant quivered at her side, eyes to the ground.

“They left,” she murmured, voice like silk wrapped around steel. “He chose exile over loyalty.”

Her fingers curled around the armrest of her throne. The air thickened.

"Send word to every province. I want them found. I want their steps traced and their allies exposed. If Jeonghan escapes, I lose."

The Grand Tutor dared to speak. “Your Majesty, the Emperor—he... he knew. Lord Seungcheol confessed their bond to him last month. He—”

“What?” The Dowager's voice cracked like a whip.

“He approved,” the official said, swallowing hard. “He gave them his blessing. Lord Seungcheol was the blade in the Emperor’s rise. Their loyalty runs deeper than politics.”

The Dowager’s face darkened. “Then the throne has betrayed me.”

Far from the venomous halls, Jeonghan rode with the wind in his hair, the sting of betrayal and freedom mixing in his chest. Seungcheol rode close behind, ever watchful, his presence a steady flame beside Jeonghan’s storm.

They rode through rice fields heavy with dew, over stone bridges older than the dynasty itself, and into forests where the world whispered only in rustling leaves.

That night, they rested in a forgotten shrine nestled deep in the mountains. A single lantern flickered between them.

Jeonghan stared at the flame, then at Seungcheol.

“You told the Emperor?”

“Yes,” Seungcheol said quietly. “He knows everything. About us. He gave his word, no royal warrant will come from him. Only the Dowager stands against us now.”

Jeonghan exhaled, pain flashing across his face. “Then she’ll hunt us like wolves.”

“She already has,” Seungcheol replied. “But I would face a thousand hounds if it meant your soul stayed unshackled.”

Outside, the wind howled, but inside the shrine, their silence was sacred. They were fugitives, yes, but together they were happier than ever.

Back in the capital, the Dowager’s wrath festered. She summoned old allies, whispering promises of power in return for Jeonghan’s capture. Rumors swelled of wanted notices bearing his image, of rewards too great to resist.

But she underestimated how deep Seungcheol's loyalty ran and how many still remembered the days he bled to put the Emperor on the throne. Quietly, lines were drawn. Soldiers looked the other way. Governors turned their heads. And whispers of rebellion stirred in distant provinces.

The Dowager may have held the palace... but in the hearts of many, Jeonghan and Seungcheol had become something far more dangerous than traitors.

They were symbols of freedom.

Midsummer had not yet faded when the city gates opened again, not to invaders, not to emissaries, but for two people who dared to defy.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol rode through the outer courts of the capital as though the earth itself remembered their steps. The streets once hushed by fear now stirred with quiet awe. Traders paused, soldiers lowered their gazes, and whispers rippled like wind through silk,

They’ve returned.

Dust clung to their cloaks, but their postures were unbroken. Seungcheol’s hand remained close to the hilt of his sword, ready to take action. Jeonghan, clad in moonlight-colored robes, rode upright, regal despite his exile. He had left as a fleeing consort. He returned as something else, unyielding, untamed, unbroken.

The palace gates groaned open.

Atop the stairs of the imperial court stood the Emperor, young still, but with the weight of a kingdom behind his eyes. Gold shimmered along his sleeves, yet there was no arrogance in his posture, only waiting.

Behind him, the Empress Dowager’s seat sat conspicuously empty.

As Jeonghan and Seungcheol dismounted, the Emperor stepped forward, descending the stairs himself, to meet them halfway, an act no ruler had done in a hundred years.

“You honored your soul above all else,” the Emperor said. “That is what makes you worthy of this house, and of its future.”

He turned to the gathered court, whose eyes darted between tradition and awe, between fear and reverence.

The Emperor motioned to the Eunuch beside him. The Eunuch raised a scroll wrapped in red silk, the imperial seal blazing in gold, and every official bowed along with Seungcheol and Jeonghan. The eunuch started reading, “Mark the word, By the order of the Emperor and in the name of the celestial throne, it is hereby bestowed upon Commandery Prince Yoon Jeonghan and Duke Seungcheol. Their bond shall be recognized by heaven, spirit, and state.”

A thunderous silence fell. Gasps rippled.

The Emperor smiled faintly. “Let this be known throughout the empire that love, when bound by honor, shall never be called treason.”

High above, the temple bells began to toll.

Soon, the time arrived for them to start the wedding preparations.  The marriage preparation started with the ritual of checking for the auspiciousness and compatibility of the birth dates and setting the marriage date.

Astrologers consulted both Jeonghan and Seungcheol’s birth scrolls, pheromone cycles, and spiritual bond. Their compatibility was declared to be “Heaven’s Match”, the astrologers said that their bond was one for the history books.

Even their heat and rut cycles, when compared, were found to align harmoniously, ensuring mutual strength rather than imbalance.

The astrologers decided the 23rd of the tenth month as the most auspicious date, the date when winter decided to descend upon the realm. Then it was the most important step for any noble marriage, the letters.

The first part of this letter was the Betrothal Letter. The Emperor himself penned the first letter in a pair. Written in valuable imperial ink, the Emperor acknowledged the match between Jeonghan and Seungcheol. The scrolls were delivered by imperial attendants to Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s residence. The letters were sealed by the imperial seal.

   The second was the Gift Letter, this letter listed the betrothal gifts exchanged between both households. Carts filled with gifts arrived at Jeonghan’s household.

From afar, the sounds came first, the low beat of ceremonial drums, the roll of red-lacquered wheels, the chant of imperial officials announcing the approaching convoy.

One hundred and eight chests, pulled by white horses, arrived at the Duke’s estate. Each was bound in red silk, adorned with sigils of both Imperial family and Duke Choi’s family. Behind the carts, palace eunuchs, courtly representatives, and high guards walked in perfect formation, bearing incense, scrolls, bolts of rare silk, and fine instruments wrapped in gauze.

At the center of it all was a chest unlike the others, midnight black and trimmed in obsidian and jade. It pulsed faintly, sealed with both a spirit-binding charm and a scent imprint from Seungcheol himself.

Seungkwan, excited with all of it, arrived at Jeonghan’s room happily and announced to him, “Hyung, the Duke’s household has sent over the Betrothal gifts. So many chests!”

“Well, let us go and see it, should we?” Jeonghan said to Seungkwan. Soon, the Omega arrived surrounded by his family, Minghao and Junhui followed close by.

Looking at the 108 chests of gifts, Seungkwan thought to himself, ‘I think I have never seen anything like this…’

Minghao and Junhui were unreadable as always, but looking at them closely, it was evident that they were surprised.

Jihoon said quietly to Jeonghan, “Hyung, he is not only marrying you but also declaring the proof of his undying promise and his respect for you.

Jeonghan exhaled slowly, dressed in frosted white robes embroidered with red plum blossoms, and took a step forward as the lead official bowed.

“By decree of the Son of Heaven, and by the hand of Duke Choi Seungcheol of House Choi, we present these tokens of sincerity and lifelong vow.”

As they began laying the chests in ceremonial formation, two voices cut through the reverence.

From the right corridor, Mingyu arrived tall and strong, with windswept hair and a scowl aimed at nothing in particular.

“So, it’s real,” he muttered. “He’s actually marrying you.” His voice was tinged with Alpha possessiveness for his brother.

Jeonghan squeezed his hand with comfort, “You know that he will always be the person I choose, and he, too, respects me and chose me.”

From behind Mingyu came Jihoon, face buried half behind a scroll.

“According to this, all the gifts are properly documented. But… there’s a sealed item here marked as ‘Territorial Token.’ That’s a mating ring, isn’t it?”

Jeonghan’s cheeks colored faintly. “It is.”

Seungkwan gasped with both hands on his face. “He gave you a scent-bound ring! In the second chest?! Before the ceremony?!”

Junhui deadpanned, “Bold.”

Jeonghan couldn’t help but hide his face behind his fan, his ears reddened.

Just as the ceremonial incense was about to be lit to seal the offering, a harsh breeze swept through the outer hall, and with it came Sung Eunseo. She arrived uninvited, dressed in court red meant to upstage the occasion, her voice lilting like poison sugar.

“Such fanfare,” she said, circling the black chest. “All for an Omega who came back wrapped in scandal.”

The hall fell silent.

Minghao shifted beside him, every muscle tight. Junhui’s fingers brushed the edge of his hidden blade. Even Jihoon narrowed his eyes.

“Watch your words, Eunseo,” Mingyu growled. “don’t forget your place.”

Unfazed, she tilted her chin. “And yet your brother invites the scandal to the Duke Kim’s house.”

But as she reached to touch the sealed black chest, a pulse of magic shimmered outward, forcing her back with a sharp jolt. She stumbled, stunned.

The lead eunuch bowed again to Jeonghan.

“The chest bears the Alpha’s imprint. Only Prince Jeonghan may open it, lest one risk rejection by the bond.”

Everyone turned to Jeonghan, who stepped forward with all the calm of snow descending on a battlefield.

He pressed his hand to the seal. A warmth spread up his arm, and the lock clicked open.

Inside lay a mating ring carved from black jade, humming with Seungcheol’s scent and spirit signature, alongside a note written in his hand,

“Let this ring bind us in soul, I do not ask to claim you. I ask to stand beside you.”

Eunseo stomped away in fury.

As everyone left, Jeonghan was joined by his closest people, Seungkwan, Jihoon, Mingyu, Minghao, and Junhui. They decided to open the chests. The chests included The Betrothal Letter, penned by the Emperor, sealed by Seungcheol’s own hand.

There was also the Black Jade Mating Ring, it was Unadorned, yet warmed with Seungcheol’s scent.

There were boxes filled with valuable silks imported from across the country. In boxes lie jewelry like Hair coronet Sets, Gold Bangle, Pearl-Tassel Earrings, Waist Chains, a pair of jade bangles, Dangling pearl earrings, Gold Choker, Hairpins of gold, jade, or silver.

In another box lay a phoenix coronet, its golden feathers trembling with every breath meant for Jeonghan’s wedding crown.

In other boxes lay a Ceremonial Dagger, short, carved with the Choi crest and Jeonghan’s sigil on opposing sides. There was also Hairpin Dagger disguised as a silver hair ornament. Deadly when drawn.

Minghao gave a low whistle. “This is Practical romance.”

In other boxes were Silk Robes, Bronze Mirror, Bedding Set, and Saddle Wrap. Other boxes held edible gifts like food and wine. There was also an incense set made of Cypress, agarwood, Orchid, and Sandalwood.

In a lacquered box lay the bride price, it was not money, not gold. It was a sheathed blade meant for protection.

Jeonghan closed the final chest, fingers lingering on the dagger hidden in silver filigree. Around him, the room was hushed.

There was also a pair of geese caught by Seungcheol.

 Even Mingyu looked moved. Seungkwan sniffled discreetly. Jihoon just muttered, “Of course it’s perfect.”

Jeonghan knew this was not a transaction. It was a promise in every form he would understand.

The summer sun cast warm golden light across the family estate, where silks fluttered like ribbons in the wind. Within the main courtyard, attendants bustled as lacquered red boxes were laid out in ceremonial order, each a vessel bearing fortune, sincerity, and hope.

As the master of the house, Lord Kim Donggun surveyed the scene with a rare softness in his stern gaze. He stepped forward first. Clad in official robes of dark red and silver embroidery, he held a weighty jade ruyi scepter, an emblem of power and authority.

“This,” he said, placing it gently atop a carved wooden tray, “is for harmony between the couple. The ruler’s heart must know gentleness at home.”

Jeonghan was surprised by his father’s action. He quickly bowed and thanked his father.

“Thanking father for this gift.”

After his father left, his mother, Lady Yoon, approached next, graceful in crimson robes stitched with phoenixes in flight. In her arms was a pair of silk-embroidered shoes, dainty and pristine.

“These were sewn by my hand. A mother’s blessing is sewn into every stitch.”

She handed over a red brocade pouch containing pearl earrings and a phoenix hairpin, symbols of status and grace bestowed on her son.

Jeonghan’s eyes teared at this, and he hugged his mother tightly, only now realising that he would soon leave behind his mother.

Lady Lee, dressed in a soft lavender hanfu with modest ornamentation, approached with humility. She bowed to Lady Yoon before stepping forward. In her hands was a finely carved bronze mirror, polished to perfection.

“Let this help you to see your true self clearly, and may beauty shine upon you.” Next to it, she added a pair of silver-thread combs, whispering,“So that your lives may be smooth and without tangle.” Jeonghan bowed and thanked her.

As everhyone left, Jisoo arrived with his own gift. He held a tray bearing rare wine and a folded poem.

“One bottle to toast the night of the first confess, and one to toast the night of the first quarrel and make up.”

He placed the folded poem beside the wine.

“A little indulgence of mine. Poetry for pillow talk,” he teased.

Jeonghan reddened at his teasing.

With each addition, the trays grew heavier not in weight, but in meaning. Every item spoke of love, protection, and unity, not just between two people, but between two families, and the community surrounding them.

There was also the dowry that Jeonghan’s mother prepared for him from his childhood, which Jeonghan added to. It contained five thousand taels of pure silver, two hundred bolts of imperial silk, fifty crates of rare medicinal herbs, three jade water pots and matching brush sets, a ten-volume collection of classic and modern scholarship, bound in crimson brocade, a private physician’s chest, lined in opal, stocked with healing ointments and incense.

As the final red cloth was laid over the gift boxes, the sky dimmed into the twilight of fate, and bells rang softly in the wind.

Jeonghan’s Chamber, Early Morning

The sky was still blushing with the first rays of morning light when Jeonghan was stirred from bed by the soft rustling of maids and the scent of warm sandalwood incense. Today was the day. The day he would be carried off in red silk, into the arms of Seungcheol, his Alpha.

His chamber was bustling with activity. Silks of crimson and gold were unfurled, jewels clinked softly in lacquered boxes, and the scent of rosewater lingered in the air like a promise.

Jeonghan, sitting before a bronze mirror, allowed himself a wry smile.

“You’d think I was going to war, with how frantic they all are,” he murmured, watching Seungkwan fuss with the curl of his side-locks.

Lady Yoon clicked her tongue from behind him.

“War? Hardly. But you’re about to surrender, my love. Best you look flawless while doing it.”

His lips curled mischievously. “Surrender? Never. At most... a tactical retreat into married life.”

Then Jeonghan was bathed in flower-infused water, scrubbed and scented until his skin gleamed like polished jade. Soon, he was dressed layer by layer in ceremonial red robes embroidered with phoenixes, a mark of his Omega. A lotus shaped Huadian was drawn in the middle of his forehead. Then his long hair was combed and tied into a high, elegant knot adorned with a red silk ribbon and a phoenix crown, shimmering under the light. His cheeks were dusted with the faintest rouge, lips tinted like cherry blossoms. He narrowed his eyes at his reflection.

“If he doesn’t faint at first sight, I’ll be sorely disappointed.”

Mingyu giggled. “Hyung, please, the Duke might collapse from sheer joy.”

Jihoon added under his breath, “Or from nerves.”

Jeonghan smirked, pulling a veil of red silk just below his eyes, allowing only his mischievous gaze to peek through.

“Good. Let him sweat.”

Outside, drums began to beat in the distance; the groom’s procession had begun its march.

The sun had climbed high, casting light like spilled wine across the rooftops. Firecrackers burst in as Duke Choi Seungcheol arrived with a magnificent procession, musicians playing jubilant tunes, attendants bearing trays of gold and wine, and a crimson palanquin waiting behind him.

He looked like a groom straight from a painting. Dressed in robes of scarlet robes embroidered with golden dragons, a jade crown atop his head, and a confident smile that didn’t quite hide the tension in his jaw.

Behind the courtyard gates, Jeonghan’s household had transformed into a fortress of laughter and resistance. The Door Remained Closed.

“Open up!” Seungcheol called, knocking on the red-painted gate. “I’ve come to take my bride!”

From the other side came a sly voice, Jisoo, of course.

“And you think we’d just hand him over like that? Try a little harder, General!”

Seungcheol groaned. “You’ve had weeks to write these riddles. Must we do this now?”

Minghao shouted back, “If you can’t solve three riddles, how do we know you’re clever enough to handle him?”

Seungcheol raised a brow. “You think anyone can handle him?”

Laughter erupted behind the door. As riddles arrived one by one. Seungcheol succeeded in solving the first riddle. He rolled his eyes and handed over a heavy red pouch through the small opening, a “bribe” filled with silver coins.

The Challenges Escalated.

There were push-ups in full robes, a love poem composed on the spot, and even a round of truth or dare—where Seungcheol was dared to yell at the top of his lungs,

“JEONGHAN, I SWEAR TO LOVE YOU EVEN WHEN YOU STEAL MY PILLOW AND BLAME ME FOR IT!”

From inside, muffled giggles betrayed the Omega’s amusement. He was probably peeking from behind the inner screen, lips hidden behind his silk veil.

Then came the final challenge from Jihoon, who leaned close to the door, “Tell us. Why Jeonghan? Of all the Omegas in court, why him?”

The courtyard hushed.

Seungcheol didn’t hesitate.

“Because only he could make me feel both like a conquering general and a boy stumbling over his first poem.”

For a moment, even the gatekeepers fell silent. Then, the doors swung open.

There stood Jeonghan, veiled, poised, and far too radiant for someone who’d just made his future husband work so hard. Their eyes met. His lips curved under the veil.

“About time.”

Seungcheol offered his hand.

“I had to fight a small war out here.”

“Good,” Jeonghan replied smoothly, slipping his hand into his, “You’ll need the practice.”

The courtyard bloomed in red banners unfurled like petals, lanterns swaying gently overhead. And at the heart of it all stood Jeonghan, veiled in crimson, the light catching on his robes like morning dew on rose silk.

He stepped forth from the gate as if floating, the hush of the crowd giving way to the gentle rhythm of drums and zither strings. Every movement was poetry, the delicate lift of his foot, the flutter of his veil, the way he carried the weight of centuries’ worth of beauty and dignity in one slender frame.

And standing at the end of the carpet, waiting with breath caught in his throat, was Seungcheol.

The moment their eyes met through the veil, soft almond-shaped gaze meeting dark, burning warmth, it felt as though the world slowed. Noise faded. Movement stilled. Even the music seemed to pause, just to make space for this quiet gravity between them.

Jeonghan was helped gently into the palanquin, his robes trailing behind like water, the hem kissed by flower petals strewn on the ground. Within, the interior was plush and fragrant, sweet with the scent of red dates, lotus, and the faintest trace of sandalwood.

As the curtain was drawn shut, Jeonghan took one last glance at Seungcheol and whispered beneath his breath,

“Come quickly, my Alpha… before my heart gets ahead of you.”

Mounted beside the palanquin, Seungcheol didn’t take his eyes off it, not even once. As the procession moved, led by firecrackers, music, and joyful shouting from both sides of the street, he remained close, guarding his beloved like a sentinel.

Every jolt of the palanquin, every creak of the beams, he felt in his bones. And though they were apart by silk and space, they were bound by something stronger.

“He’s in there,” Seungcheol murmured, more to himself than anyone else. “And he’s mine. Finally.”

People cheered, drums thundered. But none of that compared to the fire in his chest, gentle, steady, and utterly devoted.

With measured steps, eight pallbearers lifted the palanquin. The path forward was lined with ten miles of red silk banners, each embroidered with plum symbols and phoenix-styled ornaments, a “ten miles of red dowry” to mark the new step towards a journey.

As the bridal procession advanced towards the Northern Duke’s mansion, the people were surprised by the sheer volume of it all, gossiping nobles shocked at the amount of dowry and betrothal gifts.

The palanquin halted at the front steps of the Duke’s estate, and for a moment, all was quiet. The music ceased, the crowd held its breath, and the evening air grew thick with anticipation.

Seungcheol dismounted slowly, his boots striking the stone with a deliberate echo. As he stepped toward the palanquin, time seemed to slow. The curtains, embroidered with golden peonies and phoenixes, swayed softly in the wind like breath.

The attendant opened the door. Inside, Jeonghan sat, a vision in red and candlelight. Veiled, composed, exquisite.

Seungcheol stepped forward, and then, he bent and lifted Jeonghan into his arms.

A small gasp slipped from Jeonghan’s lips. “You’re going to carry me in front of everyone?”

Seungcheol looked down at him, eyes glowing with fond defiance.

“Let them see.”

“Let them all remember how I looked when I first held the rest of my life.”

Jeonghan’s heart skipped and then melted.

“Careful. I might never walk again if you keep saying things like that.”

“Good,” Seungcheol murmured against the silk near his cheek. “Then I’ll have to carry you for the rest of our lives.”

The crowd erupted into joy, some with cheers, others with teary-eyed laughter as the great general, so feared on the battlefield, carried his beloved like a priceless treasure across the threshold of their new home.

Servants and nobles bowed as he passed, but Seungcheol never looked away from the one in his arms.

“You’re trembling,” Jeonghan teased faintly, though his own fingers curled in Seungcheol’s sleeve.

“Only because you’re in my arms,” Seungcheol replied.

And with those whispered words, he carried him straight into the heart of the Duke’s residence, toward the candlelit hall where fate would seal what love had long since declared.

Inside the ceremonial hall, twilight poured through lattice windows like ink spilling across parchment. Candles burned in twin rows along the red carpet, their flames trembling like hearts anticipating union.

Jeonghan now stood beside Seungcheol at the center of it all, clothed in red, veiled still, his slender figure cloaked in silk and anticipation. His presence was luminous, serene, and composed, but Seungcheol could feel the subtle tension in the fingers brushing his.

The master of ceremonies stepped forward and struck the ceremonial gong once, his voice rising above the hush.

“On this auspicious day, we gather to witness the union of Alpha and Omega, under Heaven, before ancestors, and with the blessing of all present.”

Jeonghan’s veil shifted slightly in the gentle breeze from the open doors. Seungcheol, beside him, looked calm to the crowd, but he was counting his heartbeats, one after another, all tangled up in red. The priest called out:

“First bow, to Heaven and Earth!”

The two turned eastward. Together, they bowed low. A deep, graceful movement that brought their foreheads nearly to the polished floor, acknowledging the vast sky above and the earth below that would shelter their future.

Jeonghan murmured under his breath, just loud enough for Seungcheol to hear,

“Don’t trip. I want a husband, not a headline.”

Seungcheol replied without missing a beat,

“If I fall, I’ll take you with me. At least we’ll land in the same bed.”

They turned to the ancestral altar, where candles flickered before carved name tablets, those who came before them, now bearing witness.

“Second bow, to the ancestors!”

This time, Jeonghan’s face softened behind the veil.

Then came the most sacred moment. “Third bow to each other.”

They turned to face one another. Slowly. With the rest of the world fading beyond the drumming in their ears.

Jeonghan’s veil fluttered. His hands clasped in front of him, slim fingers trembling with something unspoken. Seungcheol bowed first, lower than required.

Jeonghan hesitated, then bowed too, but not before pausing just long enough to make Seungcheol wait.

When they rose, they were changed. The ceremony was complete.

A red lacquer tray was brought forth with the conjoined wine vessel, a gourd split into two matching halves, one for each of them.

They each took a half.

Their fingers brushed.

The red thread connecting the cups looped once around their joined wrists, binding them with more than silk.

They drank. The wine was warm, sweet, laced with lotus and jujube. A promise on the tongue.

Seungcheol licked his lips. “It’s said the taste of this wine stays on the lips for three days.”

Jeonghan tilted his head behind the veil. “I suppose you’ll have to find out for yourself, won’t you?”

The master of ceremonies announced in a booming voice:

“The rites are complete! From this moment forward, they are joined in life and in name!”

The crowd erupted into cheers, petals rained from above, and music swelled like the crest of spring.

But for Seungcheol, there was only one sound he cared about the quiet exhale of Jeonghan’s breath. The way it trembled just slightly, just enough to betray the fact that he, too, had been holding himself together for this very moment.

The hall shimmered with candlelight and wine-fueled laughter, echoing from every corner. Red silk fluttered above the guests, and toasts were raised like arrows in the air, pointed and inescapable. Seungcheol had just barely sat down with his cup when his so-called brothers-in-arms descended on him like vultures circling a particularly smug-looking prey.

Dokyeom was the first to lean in, raising his wine with a feral grin.

“To our brave general conqueror of nations, now vanquished by a pair of pretty eyes and a waist you could wrap one arm around!”

Seungcheol groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “He’s not even at this table and you’re still afraid of his waist?”

“Afraid? No, no—in awe,” Dokyeom said, dead serious. “Do you know how many soldiers tried to guess what he looked like under that veil today? There were bets.”

“...And?”

“You owe me five taels. I guessed ‘heart-stopping.’ You confirmed it with your face.”

Wonwoo sipped his tea with the poise of someone who never needed to raise his voice to ruin you.

“I’ve submitted a formal request for your military reports to be hand-delivered by your spouse from now on.”

Seungcheol arched a brow. “What!?”

“Because I enjoy watching you squirm when he uses honorifics with a knife behind them.”

Dokyeom laughed so hard he almost tipped his cup.

“He does that thing with his tone, right? Where he says ‘General’ but it sounds like ‘idiot’?”

“Exactly,” Wonwoo said smoothly.

Seungcheol glared at both of them. “Remind me to promote myself out of your reach.”

Soonyoung leaned halfway across the table, wine sloshing.

“So… uh… when are we allowed to enter the bridal chamber with firecrackers and candles?”

“Never,” Seungcheol said flatly.

“What if we bring wine?”

“Still no.”

“What if we don’t bring wine, but come bearing questions? Like, how long did it take before he stopped calling you ‘General’ and started calling you ‘husband’?”

Seungcheol exhaled sharply through his nose. “He hasn’t yet.”

“Oooooh,” Soonyoung and Dokyeom said in unison, scandalized.

“So, you’re telling me he tied your soul to his and still addresses you like a palace clerk?” Soonyoung continued.

“Yes,” Seungcheol muttered. “And somehow it’s still hotter than when he moaned my name.”

Silence.

Hansol choked on his soup.

“Samcheon!” he hissed, red to the tips of his ears. “There are elders around!”

Seungcheol smirked and refilled his nephew’s cup. “Drink, Hansol. You’ll understand one day.”

“I’d rather not!”

As the night wore on, the teasing grew wilder, the drinks stronger, and the laughter louder. But through it all, Seungcheol only smiled more.

He didn’t mind the jabs, not really. Because at the end of the night, they’d return to their rooms…

…but he would return to his, to Jeonghan. And that, to Seungcheol, was the real victory.

The room was aglow with soft candlelight. Red curtains were drawn, muffling the lingering sounds of wine and merriment outside. Petals of peonies and red plum blossoms lay scattered across the lacquered floor, and at the center of it all stood the wedding bed, draped in crimson gauze that shimmered like dusk.

Jeonghan sat quietly at its edge, hands folded, head lowered beneath the phoenix veil.

The door creaked open.

Footsteps measured, familiar, approached.

Seungcheol exhaled once, slowly. Then another. He had crossed battlefields, faced death, stood before kings… but nothing had ever made his hands feel quite this unsteady.

“You waited,” he said softly.

A pause. Then Jeonghan replied, voice low and teasing,

“You think I’d run after being carried across half the city like a prized jewel?”

Seungcheol chuckled under his breath, stepping forward until he stood directly in front of him.

“May I?” he asked, fingertips brushing the edge of the veil.

Jeonghan tilted his head, still veiled. “I belong to you now, don’t I?”

“You always did,” Seungcheol said. “Even before the robes and the wine and the words.”

Slowly, with reverent care, he lifted the veil. And there he was.With eyes like moonlight on ink, lips curved just faintly, and the softest tremble at his lashes betraying everything he wouldn’t say aloud.

Seungcheol forgot how to breathe.

“You're beautiful,” he whispered, like a prayer.

Jeonghan blinked, gaze unguarded now.

“You say that like you didn’t already know.”

“Knowing,” Seungcheol murmured, “isn’t the same as seeing.”

Seungcheol reached for the pair of nuptial wine cups and filled them with rice wine.

They intertwined their arms to drink the cross-cupped wine. As they drank, their hands remained linked. The warmth of the wine passed from one to the other like a vow unsaid, yet deeply felt.

After the ritual was completed, Seungcheol retrieved a silk-wrapped jade-handled blade, its edge glinting faintly.

Both of them cut a small part of their hair, bound it together, placed it in a silk pouch, and then put it inside a red lacquered box.

He knelt before him, not in submission, but in reverence. Carefully, he removed Jeonghan’s hairpin, letting dark silk cascade down his shoulders like a river released. He didn’t touch—yet.

“Everyone sees you in red,” Seungcheol said quietly, “but I see you best like this. When you're not trying to dazzle or cut. When you're just... you.”

Jeonghan looked at him for a long moment.

And then, almost shyly, he reached forward, fingertips brushing Seungcheol’s jaw, tracing the scar that curved near his mouth.

“You’ve always looked at me like you were waiting to be allowed,” Jeonghan said.

“Was I wrong to wait?”

“No,” Jeonghan said. “But I’m not asking you to wait anymore.”

Seungcheol leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Jeonghan’s.

No kiss yet. Just breath shared, eyes closed, a universe narrowing to two mouths that knew they would meet but weren’t in a rush to do so.

“Do you know,” Jeonghan whispered, “what I wished for, the moment I stepped over that saddle?”

“What?”

“That this night wouldn’t be the start of something brief… but the continuation of something that already was.”

Their lips met each other feverishly. The veil had long since been lifted. Their lips had found each other, their breath synced in the quiet hush of the bridal chamber. But now, in the softened hours past ceremony and celebration, it was only them, Seungcheol, an Alpha seasoned by war and time, and Jeonghan, an Omega young in years but startlingly ancient in his gaze.

The candlelight painted them in gold, flickering against folds of red and skin yet untouched.

Jeonghan lay back on the wedding bed, his hair spilled like ink across the embroidered phoenix pillows. His robe was still closed, but loose, welcoming Seungcheol. His eyes met Seungcheol’s with a mixture of curiosity and... unspoken trust.

The room was perfumed with sweet wood and peony oil, the air heavy with something ancient, primal, and yet tender. Their wedding chamber shimmered with candlelight, but what stirred between them was not fire.

It was fate.

Jeonghan sat poised on the bed, skin flushed beneath crimson robes, his scent normally mild and elegant, now curling in the air like blooming osmanthus in the heat of summer. Sweet, subtle, and Calling.

Seungcheol had known restraint all his life. He had survived court politics, years of battle, and the weight of his title. But never had his Alpha instincts been so loud, so hungry. His Omega sat waiting, gaze steady, lips soft, the bond between them humming like lightning beneath skin.

And still, he held back.

“You’re trembling,” he said, kneeling beside the bed.

“I’m burning,” Jeonghan replied. “And you’re standing there like you don’t feel it too.”

Their first kiss was slow, like drawing a silk ribbon from a gift you’ve waited a lifetime to open. And the second, deeper, hungrier tasted like devotion.

Seungcheol’s hands slipped into Jeonghan’s robes, not to claim but to explore. To learn every line, every soft place, every sigh.

“You’re so young,” he breathed, reverent.

“Then teach me,” Jeonghan whispered, fingers curling into Seungcheol’s collar. “But don’t treat me like glass. I chose this.”

He undid the beautiful collar from his neck and invited Seungcheol in.

With the welcoming scent of Vanilla and peach blossom, the Alpha dived in, Crefully, passionately.

Jeonghan’s scent flared, heady and warm with submission, trust, and need. His body arched beneath Seungcheol, long lashes fluttering as the Alpha’s mouth traced slow, worshipful paths along his throat, collarbone, and chest. Skin met skin, robes slinking off in layers like secrets shared in the dark.

There was no rush.

But then came the moment neither could postpone.

The bonding heat had risen, instinct threading through breath and heartbeat. Jeonghan’s voice trembled as he clung to Seungcheol’s shoulders.

“I feel it, pulling inside me. Is this…?”

“The bond calling,” Seungcheol whispered, forehead pressed to Jeonghan’s. “You don’t have to let it complete. Not tonight.”

“But I want to,” Jeonghan said. “I want to be yours. In every way.”

“You already are,” Seungcheol murmured, voice rough. “But if I mark you, there’s no undoing it.”

Jeonghan’s hand slid behind Seungcheol’s neck, guiding him lower.

“Then leave something on me that even time can’t take away.”

Their bodies glistened in the candlelight, limbs tangled under the silken quilt. Jeonghan lay against Seungcheol’s chest, marked, claimed, and safe. The ache between his thighs was tempered by the thrum of the completed bond, warm and dizzying in the best way.

“So that’s what a mating bond feels like,” Jeonghan murmured, tracing circles on Seungcheol’s chest.

“More intense than war,” Seungcheol replied, kissing the crown of his head.

“Will it always burn this much?”

“Not burn,” Seungcheol said, eyes closing. “Just… remind us that we belong to each other.”

Jeonghan smiled against his skin.

“Then I hope I never stop feeling it.”

When Seungcheol finally laid him back onto the wedding bed, it was not to possess but to cherish.

The bond between them pulsed quietly.

Their movements were unhurried like two brushstrokes meeting on parchment, deliberate and fluid. Jeonghan’s fingers clutched the sleeves of Seungcheol’s robe. His breath caught, not from fear, but from feeling seen, wanted, and wholly held.

“I’ll go slowly,” Seungcheol murmured, voice thick with restraint.

“Then I won’t look away,” Jeonghan replied, his voice barely more than a breath.

They became one.

Nothing rushed. No words were spoken now, only low sighs, moans, and the occasional whispered name, and the quiet hush of skin against skin. Jeonghan’s head tilted back, lips parted, eyes half-lidded, as instinct drew them closer. Every touch was a question, every answer came in the press of hands, in the way their bodies found one another perfectly.

When the time came, Jeonghan bared his neck, willingly, offering the most sacred place an Omega could reveal.

And with great care, with trembling control and overwhelming reverence…

Seungcheol bit down.

The bond sealed in that instant—hot and blinding. Jeonghan gasped, his body arching instinctively. It was not pain—it was completion. The kind of sensation that echoed in the marrow. His scent bloomed, and Seungcheol’s followed, the two blending into something neither had ever known before.

Seungcheol continued and whispered into the Omega’s damp hair.

“Is this alright?”

“Do you want to stop?”

“You’re doing perfectly.”

Jeonghan trembled, but not from fear. From the sensation of being known, cherished, and seen not just as someone beautiful, but someone worthy.

And when the pain came, Seungcheol kissed him through it. And when the pleasure began, Jeonghan arched into it with wonder.

Later, when the movements had slowed, and they lay pressed chest to chest, breath mingling and limbs tangled beneath the wedding quilt, Jeonghan whispered, voice husky and hoarse,

“You weren’t wrong, you know.”

“About what?”

“That this would be something I gave. Willingly. Freely.”

“And gratefully,” Seungcheol added, kissing his temple. “More than I deserve.”

Jeonghan lifted his gaze, serious despite the heat still lingering between them.

“Then earn me every day, General. I’m not something you win once.”

Seungcheol smiled, brushing his fingers through Jeonghan’s tousled hair.

“I plan to.”

Seungcheol kissed the crown of his head.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered.

“I’ve always been.”

And beneath the red canopy, hearts still racing but safe at last, they fell asleep in each other's arms.

Sunlight crept quietly through the carved lattice of the bridal chamber, dappling the red silk canopy with golden warmth. The scent of sandalwood still lingered in the air, but now it mingled with something unmistakably new.

Something heady, Intimate, and Mated.

Jeonghan stirred beneath the quilt, a soft sound escaping his throat as he blinked into the morning light. His entire body ached in ways he hadn’t known possible, yet deep, satisfied soreness mingled with the telltale hum of the newly sealed bond.

“Ow,” he muttered, stretching before immediately curling back in with a wince.

From behind him came a low chuckle. “Sorry,” Seungcheol murmured, voice thick with sleep. “I did warn you I was an Alpha.”

“You said you’d be gentle.”

“I was.”

Jeonghan turned his head just enough to glare at him through messy hair. “There are bite marks on my thighs, General.”

Seungcheol grinned shamelessly and pressed a kiss to Jeonghan’s bare shoulder. “I like to leave my signature.”

“You left a novel.”

Before more could be said, a knock came at the chamber door.

“My lord!” came Dokyeom’s bright voice from beyond. “The household’s in a frenzy! The palace sent over another box of wedding gifts, but the servants are too embarrassed to enter!”

Jeonghan groaned and buried his face in a pillow. “Please tell me it’s not obvious.”

From outside, Wonwoo’s droll voice added, “You’re both radiating scent so thick we nearly passed out coming up the corridor. Perhaps a window should be opened.”

“We were discreet,” Jeonghan hissed under his breath.

“You screamed my name,” Seungcheol whispered back, biting back a laugh.

“You bit me.”

“Only where they won’t see.”

“There’s one on my collarbone!”

“Ah. I miscalculated.”

The door creaked open just enough for a hand to slip in a tray bearing tea and restorative broth. “I shall leave this here,” Seungkwan said cheerily. “And also, hyung lovely veil of hickeys. Very artistic placement. You’ll have to teach your Alpha about moderation.”

Jeonghan let out a muffled wail into the pillow.

“I hate all of you.” Seungcheol groaned.

“We love you too,” Hansol piped up from somewhere outside, his voice full of innocent mischief. “But next time, maybe don’t mark him so thoroughly, we think you fought a war in there.”

Seungcheol chuckled lowly and ran a soothing hand along Jeonghan’s spine. “To be fair, I did win something last night.”

Jeonghan turned just enough to glare at him, face flushed from neck to ears.

“I swear, if anyone bows to me today while staring at my neck, I will fake an ankle injury and never leave this bed again.”

“I could carry you.”

“That’s not the solution.”

“But it is fun,” Seungcheol whispered, nuzzling into Jeonghan’s temple with a smile.

And despite the soreness, the scent, and the embarrassment...Jeonghan smiled too. Because he was loved. Bonded.

And thoroughly ruined in the best possible way.

The golden basin gleamed under morning light. Steam curled like a veil around it, perfumed by floating petals of lotus and chrysanthemum. Outside, the sounds of the bustling household preparing for formal greetings felt distant and muted by silk curtains and sacred hush.

Jeonghan stood still as the attendants gently unfastened his robes. Despite the warmth of the room, his skin prickled with awareness.

Then, soft footsteps approached as Seungcheol arrived. His Alpha had entered.

“We bathe together?” Jeonghan asked, glancing over his shoulder, amused.

“We’re married,” Seungcheol said, voice low. “Everything we do from now on… we do together.”

The attendants bowed and withdrew, leaving the room.

Seungcheol stepped behind Jeonghan, his fingers undoing the final knot of his sash. Jeonghan’s robe slipped down with a whisper, leaving his pale form glowing in the mist. Seungcheol disrobed as well, quietly, with no urgency.

They entered the bath as if walking into a shared dream.

The warm water lapped at their skin, scented by sacred blossoms. Jeonghan settled between Seungcheol’s knees, letting his Alpha gently pour water over his shoulders, down his back, over the mark that now tied them together.

“Are you still sore?” Seungcheol asked softly.

“A little. But it feels like I’m supposed to be,” Jeonghan said, smiling faintly.

“We’ll go slowly today.”

“You say that, but your scent says otherwise,” Jeonghan teased, flicking water behind him.

“This is how you speak to your husband?” Seungcheol murmured, pulling him back into his chest.

“Of course, this is how I speak to my husband.” Jeonghan teased back.

They bathed in silence after that. Seungcheol’s Fingers combed gently through Jeonghan’s hair. Cloth and water washed away oil and sweat, but not the ache of last night. That ache remained a kind of proof of intimacy and love.

They dressed each other afterwards in Red and gold. Wrapping each other in care. Jeonghan fixed Seungcheol’s collar with tender care.

When they finally stood side by side, ready to face the family, Seungcheol reached for his hand.

“Whatever happens,” he said, “you’ll never stand alone.”

Jeonghan smiled, his fingers tightening around Seungcheol’s.

“I never did. I was only waiting for you to stand beside me.”

Chapter Text

The grand hall of the Choi residence had undergone a transformation. Silk drapes hang from the eaves, and lanterns swayed gracefully before the ancestral table. Jeonghan stood beside Seungcheol, dressed in formal scarlet robes. A delicate gold ornament shimmered in his hair. Though he held his composure, every movement was deliberate and precise. For today, he wasn’t just the Duke’s consort, he was also the Commandery prince who had married into the Duke’s household.

An attendant announced, “The newlyweds shall serve tea.”

Jeonghan first served tea to Lady Jang, Seungcheol’s Aunt. She was the one who raised Seungcheol when his mother fell to sickness after losing her mate, Seungcheol’s father.

Lady Jang was an imposing Alpha, her robes were as proper as her posture was. She was a lady with with iron spine, she observed Jeonghan carefully.

Jeonghan bowed low with his tea tray, and he knelt down and offered a cup of tea to her.

“Aunt, I hope you accept this unworthy one’s gratitude for raising my husband all these years.”

She looked down, not at the tea but at him. Her gaze was evaluating, and she calmly took her time.

“You are quite the delicate flower,” she murmured. “And yet… not once did your hands tremble.”

Her lips curled in an approval, “May you follow your husband and stand by him all the time, Consort Jeonghan.”

She accepted the cup, “And may you tame that stubborn beast you’ve married.”

Seungcheol laughed softly while Jeonghan gave a modest bow, hiding his smirk behind his sleeve.

He served the second cup of tea to Seungcheol’s Mother.

She was already seated, her hair now grey, her robes well-kept but plain. Once the Duchess of a noble house, now a woman lost to time and grief.

She stared into the distance, humming a children’s poem. Jeonghan knelt and placed the cup on the table before her. She didn’t reach for it, it seemed as if she didn’t even notice him.

A quiet settled over the room.

Seungcheol stepped forward gently, knelt beside his mother, and lifted her hand.

“Mother,” he said softly, “your son has married. He has brought home a consort.”

Her eyes flickered for once. Then her gaze drifted to Jeonghan… and lingered.

“You’re very pretty,” she whispered, voice faint.

“Will you take care of my son?”

Jeonghan’s heart tightened. “I swear I will,” he said, in a steady voice.

She smiled, fingers curling like petals around the untouched cup. “Then you may stay.”

Then the third cup of tea was served to Seungcheol’s Second Uncle and His Wife,parents of Jungil.

From the start, it was clear the atmosphere had shifted. Seungcheol’s second uncle, a man with the easy arrogance of inherited privilege, sat with a faint sneer. His wife’s lips were already pursed.

Jeonghan approached with slow grace, lowered to his knees, and presented the cup.

“To Second Uncle and Second Aunt. I offer tea with respect.”

The woman took the cup with only two fingers, as though afraid it might sully her.

“Such a fragile voice,” she said with a smile that cut. “Are you sure you can bear heirs, little one?”

“So thin. Do they not feed you where you come from?”

Jeonghan’s smile didn’t falter.

“I eat quite well. But restraint is elegant, no?”

Seungcheol’s voice broke the silence, it was low and warning.

“That’s enough.”

The uncle gave a faux chuckle. “Forgive us, the older generation worries. We simply hope the family line will not fade.”

“If anything fades, it will not be from my household,” Seungcheol said coldly.

The tension cracked like frost.

Then he served tea to the third uncle and his wife.

Jeonghan barely knelt when the third uncle chuckled and took the tray from his hands himself.

“No need to kneel to old men like me. You’ve married well, and now we’ve gained another jewel.”

His wife smiled kindly and said, “You look tired, dear. We hope your first night wasn’t too… exhausting.”

Jeonghan flushed pink, biting back a laugh. “Just a little sore.”

“Good,” the third aunt laughed. “A marriage should begin with sweet aches.”

Jeonghan served the tea, and for the first time that morning, he felt welcomed.

Throughout the morning, Jeonghan remained at Seungcheol’s side—graceful, but quiet—until a stir rose near the rear entrance of the hall, drawing the attention of those nearby.

A youth stepped into view. He was tall, clean-cut, refined in posture, wearing robes of valuable silk. His expression was smooth, bordering on smug, with the same sharp cheekbones as the second uncle.

“Is that…” Jeonghan murmured, sensing the shift in the room.

Seungcheol’s arm subtly tensed beside him.

“Jungil,” Seungcheol said flatly.

Jeonghan turned, gaze narrowing.

Jungil was Seungcheol’s adopted heir from his second uncle’s branch. He was handsome, entitled, and intelligent. In another life, the one Jeonghan had been fated to marry before betrayal, but in this life, they were nothing more than strangers.

Behind him was Sung Eunseo, Jeonghan’s half-sister, wrapped in lavender silk. Her beauty was delicate, yet her eyes showed her cruelty.

Jungil strode confidently to the elders and offered a bow.

“Abeoji,” he said to Seungcheol. “You didn’t summon me, but I came to pay my respects… and offer congratulations.”

Jeonghan offered a formal bow. “Young Master Jungil.”

“Consort,” Jungil said, voice perfectly polite, eyes glinting. “Or should I call you eomma now?”

The term hung in the air like a spark.

“Either will do,” Jeonghan replied smoothly.

Seungcheol’s aunt chuckled behind her sleeve.

Jungil’s smile faltered, just briefly. Eunseo stepped forward with an exaggerated sigh.

“What a strange world we live in. Who would have thought our Jeonghan married into such high nobility?”

She said while looking Jeonghan up and down from head to toe.

“You must’ve practiced walking in such heavy robes, hmm? Or is your Alpha husband carrying you everywhere now?”

Jeonghan smiled sweetly, yet in a cold tone, replied back.

“Why yes, he does carry me. I hope it does not make you feel too bad, sister.”

Eunseo’s eyes flashed.

Seungcheol finally stepped in,  “Jungil. Your presence was not required, but you may pay respects and leave now.”

Jungil didn’t move at first. But he was handed a cup of tea by one of the servants, and he bowed and served it to Jeonghan.

Jeonghan took the cup from his hand and sipped slowly.

Jungil bowed curtly once again and turned to leave, stomping in his way out . Eunseo followed, her fan snapping shut.

The midday sun filtered through the silken canopy stretched above the garden pavilion, casting soft light across the curved stone paths and trees. Jeonghan reclined lazily on a cushioned bench, half-buried in pale pink robes. A silk fan rested in one hand, fluttering idly against his cheek.

Across from him, Seungkwan, balanced a grape between his fingers and tried to flick it into Jeonghan’s mouth.

“Open up, hyung,” Seungkwan teased. “I swear my aim has improved since the lantern festival.”

“Last time you hit my eye,” Jeonghan said flatly, catching the grape midair with a slow blink. “You’re lucky I still have vision in it.”

Minghao and Junhui chuckled from the side, where they sat pouring tea.

“I give it two more throws before he knocks out your teeth,” Minghao muttered.

Jun added with a grin, “Then hyung can sip porridge for the next week.”

The group burst into laughter. For a rare moment, Jeonghan was simply surrounded by his closest friends, the ones who stood by him even at his lowest.

He lay back on the bench, letting the laughter dissolve into quiet birdsong.

Then came a small voice.

"Excuse me..."

All eyes turned toward the voice. At the edge of the low stone steps, partially hidden behind a flowering bush, stood a young Omega child.

His robes were a little too long for him, sleeves trailing slightly, and leaves clung to his hair. He held a little clay lion toy in his hand. His cheeks flushed, nervous but determined.

“Oh,” Jeonghan sat up, his fan lowering. “Who do we have here?”

“I am Chan.” Said the little child.

“You’re… the one from the third uncle’s household, aren’t you?” Jeonghan asked him.

Chan nodded slowly. His big brown eyes looked at Jeonghan with curiosity.

“Can I stay here?” he asked quietly. “I don’t like it in the back garden. No one talks there with me.”

Jeonghan patted the cushion beside him. “Of course you can. But only if you promise not to steal my grapes.”

Chan shuffled forward, clutching his lion toy, and sat gingerly beside Jeonghan. The robe bunched under him, and Jeonghan smoothed it down gently.

“Did they give you lunch?” Jeonghan asked, already scanning him with soft eyes.

Chan nodded. “But I didn’t finish it. I wanted to come here instead to find Samchon’s wife.”

“You made the right choice,” Jeonghan said, smiling.

Chan’s gaze softened, looking up at Jeonghan with unguarded affection.

“You smell nice,” Chan said, blinking.

Jeonghan’s eyes flickered, the Omega inside him preened. Chan’s scent was quiet, a little sad, but it clung to him. He smelled like green apples and plum blossom.

“You smell safe,” Chan added, voice just above a whisper.

Jeonghan’s heart cracked open in a way that startled him.

“Thank you,” he said gently. “So do you.”

Chan leaned a little closer, toy in his lap now. His shoulder brushed Jeonghan’s sleeve.

“Can I… call you—”

He hesitated. A blush crept into his round cheeks.

“Can I call you Eomma?”

The pavilion fell into the softest silence. Even Seungkwan was stunned speechless.

Jeonghan looked at Chan slowly, something welling so deep in his chest it nearly stole his breath.

“If you want, you can always call me Eomma,” Jeonghan said softly, his voice trembling.

Chan leaned his head against Jeonghan’s side with the kind of trust only a child can give,and Jeonghan curled an arm around him instinctively.

“Then that makes you mine now,” he murmured into the boy’s hair.

Minghao blinked slowly. Junhui smiled, his voice quiet.

“Well,” he said. “Looks like someone just got themselves a son.”

Later that afternoon, the garden had begun to mellow into golden light. The petals fluttered in slow spirals, and cicadas began their hum.

Seungcheol stood at the edge of the veranda, having just returned from court, hands still slightly ink-stained from scrolls. He didn’t speak, only watched with a fond glance.

On a cushioned bench under the pear tree, Jeonghan sat with a small figure nestled against him. It was Chan.

The boy was sound asleep now, thumb curled loosely near his lip, the little lion toy clutched to his chest. Jeonghan held him with quiet, instinctive grace, fingers stroking his hair, the other hand gently fanning him.

It was the most natural thing in the world. As if the boy had always been his.

Seungkwan had long since wandered off, and Minghao and Junhui had vanished into a side wing.

So it was just them, Seungcheol, standing in the corridor’s shadow, and Jeonghan, unaware that he was being witnessed.

But then came Jeonghan’s voice, “You’ve been standing there for a while, Jagiya,” Jeonghan said, without even glancing up. “I was starting to think I’d imagined your scent.”

Seungcheol stepped forward slowly. “I didn’t want to interrupt,” he said. “You both looked at peace.”

Jeonghan finally looked up, and he had a warm smile on his face.

“He’s sweet,” he whispered. “Lonely. I think he’s been ignored too long, and it’s made him too quiet.”

Seungcheol moved to his side, gazing down at the small child curled against Jeonghan’s chest.

“He’s my third uncle’s grandchild. His parents passed in a fever three winters ago.”

“No one looks after him,” Jeonghan said, voice gentle but sharp.

Seungcheol was quiet for a moment. Then he reached out, fingers brushing Chan’s tousled hair, smoothing it softly.

“And now?”

Jeonghan met his gaze. His voice dropped to something softer. Braver.

“Now he has me. Us, if you allow it.”

Seungcheol exhaled, and something loosened in his chest that he hadn’t known was clenched.

“You don’t even ask permission, do you?”

“You married me,” Jeonghan said with a sly grin. “That was permission enough.”

Seungcheol reached down, tilting Jeonghan’s chin with a single calloused finger.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he murmured.

“I certainly hope so,” Jeonghan whispered.

Then, without a word more, Seungcheol sat beside them. He didn’t say anything when Jeonghan leaned into his shoulder, or when the boy stirred and, even in sleep, reached for both of them.

Together, they sat in silence.

A few days after the wedding, the manor stirred with whispers again.

The Duke and his new consort had requested an audience with the clan elders. And seated beside them, dressed in fresh robes far too large for his small frame, was a child.

Seven-year-old Chan, hair combed back neatly, lion toy tucked firmly under one arm, stood between Jeonghan and Seungcheol as they presented him before the ancestral hall.

The elders sat in carved chairs, and the air was thick with incense and tradition. Not everyone’s eyes looked kind. Especially from the second uncle's household.

“What is the meaning of this?” one of the clan elders asked coldly. “Why summon the council for a servant boy?”

“He is no servant,” Seungcheol said clearly. “And no longer neglected.”

He stepped forward, hand resting gently on Chan’s small shoulder.

“This child, Lee Chan, grandson of the Third Lord of the House, shall be formally adopted into my household… as my son.”

A murmur swept through the room.

But Jeonghan was not done. He stepped forward too, his voice clear, steady, and unflinching.

“I accept him fully as our own, as his eomma.”

The word rang out, a declaration as powerful as any war-drum.

Chan looked up at him, with wide eyes, his fingers tightening around the folds of Jeonghan’s sleeve.

One elder, a supporter of the second uncle, snorted.

“The consort adopting a child? Preposterous. What use does the new consort have playing mother?”

“Silence,” Seungcheol cut in sharply. His voice dropped like an axe.

“You will not question my consort’s place in this house. Or his capacity for love.”

Jeonghan’s tone remained even but laced with fire.

“Yet, I am more mother to this boy in a week than some have been in his whole life.”

The room went silent.

Then, the third uncle, the one who had always shown quiet kindness, rose slowly and bowed toward them. He said softly, “I offer my blessing.”

That was enough to tip the room. A few other elders murmured in agreement.

Seungcheol knelt before the small altar and offered tea in a porcelain cup. Jeonghan followed suit.

Then, they turned to Chan.

“Will you be our son?” Jeonghan whispered, kneeling to his level.

Chan nodded fiercely, his voice trembling.

“Yes, Eomma… Appa.”

He stumbled slightly over his words, but Seungcheol’s hand on his head was warm and steady.

“Then from this day forward,” Seungcheol said, standing again, “you are ours. And this house will shelter you, protect you, and love you for as long as breath fills our bodies.”

A court scribe stepped forward and recorded the declaration on silk paper.

Jeonghan lifted Chan into his arms not with strain, but the ease of someone who had always been meant to carry him. Chan tucked his head against Jeonghan’s shoulder, and for the first time in years he smiled with his whole heart.

A Few Days Later

Imperial Palace

Duke Seungcheol’s carriage rolled into the courtyard, followed by guards in dark steel, and surrounded by silk-draped attendants. It was the first time the court would lay eyes on the new Consort Jeonghan, now formally wedded and fully installed.

All eyes turned as the palanquin’s door opened.

Jeonghan emerged gracefully, hand tucked into Seungcheol’s as he stepped onto the carved stone. He wore ceremonial robes in rich ivory and cinnabar red, embroidered with peonies, phoenixes, and cloud motifs that shimmered with each breath of wind. A golden coronet rested on his head, few gold hairpins dangled from his hair bun, face was decorated with pearls, just enough to show status but not arrogance.

The hushed crowd buzzed with curiosity and jealousy alike. Many had heard of Jeonghan’s beauty, but seeing him in person, utterly unbothered by their scrutiny, was something else entirely.

“The Duke’s Omega looks more like a deity than a mortal,” someone whispered.

“And yet walks like he owns the place,” came another snide murmur.

Unfazed, Jeonghan leaned slightly toward Seungcheol and murmured, just loud enough.

“Smile, my lord. We mustn’t disappoint the gossip. We’ve only just arrived.”

Seungcheol’s lips twitched with affection.

“If I smile any wider, they’ll accuse me of being lovesick.”

“You are,” Jeonghan replied simply.

Before Seungcheol could answer, a eunuch in yellow silk stepped forward and bowed deeply.

“The Emperor awaits your presence in the Hall of Infinite Harmony.”

Inside the Grand Hall

The double doors were opened by twelve uniformed guards in perfect synchronicity. The Hall of Infinite Harmony was cool and vast, lit with filtered sunlight through silken screens. Gold columns soared high into the ceilings. Beneath them sat the Emperor, youthful yet imposing in dark dragon-embroidered robes, and beside him, veiled in grace and wisdom, was the Empress Dowager, her expression unreadable.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol stepped forward and bowed deeply, robes spreading around them.

“This servant, Choi Seungcheol, and his consort, Yoon Jeonghan, pay respects to the Emperor and the Empress Dowager.”

The Emperor waved his hand.

“Rise. You come before us as a wedded pair now, under Heaven and law.”

His gaze lingered on Jeonghan.

“And so, this is the Omega who softened the Iron Duke.”

Jeonghan lifted his head and smiled faintly, keeping his eyes downcast in proper decorum.

“This subject only followed the will of fate,” he said softly. “It was your Majesty who permitted the match.”

The Emperor chuckled. “Careful with that tongue, Duchess Yoon. The court may not know what to do with someone so... eloquent.”

“Let them flounder, then,” the Empress Dowager finally spoke. Her voice was low, almost amused. “It will be good for them.”

Jeonghan raised his eyes just briefly, and something passed between them.

The Emperor leaned forward.

“We are pleased. Your ceremony was said to be splendid.”

“It was,” Seungcheol said. “And quiet now. Our house has found peace.”

“Peace,” the Empress Dowager repeated softly. “Rare, and easily disturbed.”

She turned her gaze to Jeonghan. “I trust you understand the weight of your place.”

Jeonghan bowed again, but this time there was warmth in the motion.

“More than anyone, Your Majesty. I will protect what he protects.”

The Empress Dowager studied him for a long time. Then just barely, she nodded.

“Then let the record show, the Emperor acknowledges the union of Duke Choi Seungcheol and his consort Yoon Jeonghan. And the Court offers its blessing.”

As they exited the palace, Jeonghan reached for Seungcheol’s hand again as they stepped down the stairs. His voice was quiet.

It was a quiet afternoon, in the garden under a canopy of apricot blossoms, Chan sat at a low table, trying to practice calligraphy. Jeonghan and Seungcheol  observed from the veranda, the hush of afternoon sun enveloping them.

Jeonghan approached Chan and kneeled on his level and said, “This character must both look and feel balanced. Try lifting the main stroke ever so slightly.”

Chan’s hand shook as he adjusted the brush. “Like this?” He spoke in an apprehensive voice.

Jeonghan gently guided his wrist, and as time passed, Chan became more confident in the strokes and always looked at Jeonghan when he made a correct stroke, hoping for head pats.

When Chan succeeded, Jeonghan gave him pastries and rubbed his head softly.

Seungcheol looked at both of them in silence and sipped his tea slowly.

Few days in the mansion Jeonghan noticed something: the ancestral hall, once a place of pride, was now gathering dust. Rows of ledgers all guarded by the second aunt after Seungcheol’s mother fell sick after having lost his father.

He decided to tell Seungcheol about that, and both of them decided that maybe Jeonghan should check the finances.

Seungcheol entered the room first, expression unreadable.

“Aunt, these records have served us well. But times shift. The estate must adapt, especially with the court watching again.”

Second aunt did not rise, she kept her eyes on the ledger she was copying. “If the court watches, let it admire our stability. We have never failed to meet tribute or tax.”

Seungcheol gave a slight nod.  “True. And we aim not to change your legacy, but to protect it. Jeonghan has offered to assist in estate oversight. He is methodical, and his insight may help ease the burden.”

Still, she did not look up. “What insight can a favoured spouse offer in such matters?”

Jeonghan stepped forward, calm but direct. “Aunt, I make no claim over your work. But perhaps one month of shared effort would bring clarity. If I can find no improvements, I will step away.”

She finally met his eyes, cold and proud.

“You want to dig through my house and call it help?”

Jeonghan replied, “No. I want to strengthen it. Quietly, thoroughly, and in your name.”

Both of them stayed silent for a moment. Before she could speak again, soft footsteps echoed in the doorway.

Lady Im had arrived, wrapped in layered linen, eyes bright despite her years. “Then allow it, sister-in-law, A test of care, not power.”

Second aunt’s jaw clenched.

“One month. Your ledgers will endure scrutiny if they are honest. If not, they were never worthy of your name.” Lady Im said.

After a long moment, the second aunt gave a terse nod. “One month. But remember, the servants will not bend easily.”

Even as she turned back to her ledger, her eyes flicked toward the doorway with measured calculation.

The stewards gathered under the shade of the east courtyard, their brows furrowed with distrust. Jeonghan, followed  by Seungkwan, Minghao, and Junhui, approached without fanfare.

“Pardon our formality, Master Jeonghan. But the second madam’s seal still governs these halls.” The Head Steward said.

Jeonghan inclined his head. “I do not ask for rebellion, only a chance. One month. If what I propose weakens the household, I will not remain in office.”

The second steward, older but with clear eyes, studied him. “And if it does strengthen the house?”

Jeonghan replied, “Then we continue, not for my sake, but for the generations that follow.”

A beat of silence followed, and the head steward replied, “Very well. We will not stand in your way. But we will watch.”

Later that evening, whispers reached Jeonghan’s ear. Second aunt had spoken with two of the stewards privately, hinting that his reforms would upset existing wages and disrupt ancestral routines.

The next day, minor reports failed to arrive on time. Storage clerks suddenly “misplaced” grain counts. The ink on shipping tallies was smeared.

Seungkwan reported it first. “These aren't mistakes, Hyung. They're delays engineered to slow you down.”

Jeonghan remained steady. “Then we meet obstruction with consistency and  numbers that cannot lie.”

Jeonghan began discreetly, never removing the aunt’s name from the scrolls, always attributing his reforms to “collaborative review.” He worked through till dawn, accompanied by Seungkwan, with the quiet protection of Minghao and Junhui nearby.

But it was not that easy, inventory checks revealed shortfalls, but the warehouse master accused Jeonghan of forging results. Junhui traced the rumour back to the second household. New merchant contacts were intercepted on the route, the trade pacts nearly collapsed when a rider, sent ahead, cast doubt on the legality of Jeonghan’s authority, until Junhui uncovered that the aunt had sent a second letter challenging their authenticity.

Despite this, Jeonghan adjusted and triumphed over all of this, he opened his books to the stewards nightly, he hand-delivered petitions with documents sealed by both Seungcheol and Lady Im, he found new shipping routes, and used the younger clerks, loyal to fairness over tradition.

Servants started to notice small shifts, fresh lanterns in the granary, more equitable rations, and regular rewards.

By the thirtieth day, Jeonghan presented a balanced ledger with more than seventeen percent more gain and full records of recovered losses. But even then, the second aunt whispered that “new money fades faster than old wisdom.”

In the ancestral hall, Jeonghan handed the final scroll to Lady Im, who examined and compared it with the one done by the second madam.

For a long moment, the second aunt refused to look at the pages. “There’s always a gain when you toss out tradition. It won’t last.”

Lady Im spoke up in a stern voice, “And yet seventeen percent in one cycle. Balanced books, no mistake.”

The second madam scoffed, but her eyes betrayed uncertainty. “He’s clever. But cleverness isn’t all that is needed to manage a Duke’s household. What happens next month, when merchants demand more, or any other problem remains?”

“Then we will see. But I would rather face tomorrow with truth than hang on to yesterday’s illusions.” Lady Im said.

She set the scroll down and said in a calm voice, “This household has been carried by pride. It must now be carried by precision.”

Finally, the second aunt reached forward. Her hand hovered, then pressed her seal beside the new accounts. “You do not act like the rest of us. Perhaps that is your strength. Or your weakness.”

Jeonghan bowed deeply. “I will keep the elder’s teachings in mind.”

As he rose, Lady Im placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

Behind them, the second aunt turned away with a scoff and stomped away.

The late afternoon sun painted amber hues across the Choi estate’s secluded koi pond. Crimson maple leaves drifted onto the water’s surface. Seungkwan, Jeonghan’s personal attendant, knelt by the edge attentively brushing floating leaves away so the koi could swim untroubled.

Out of the quiet came footsteps measured, steady. Hansol, the General’s Alpha nephew, approached in casual robes, sword at his hip. His gaze softened when he saw Seungkwan’s careful work, his eyes lingering for a moment on the way Seungkwan’s fingers gently parted the water.

Seungkwan looked up, his gaze calm and serene, but there was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. His tone was steady, almost nostalgic. “These koi are fragile in their beauty, they deserve protection, Master Hansol.”

Hansol smiled, admiration and something else lingering in his expression. “Your care is obvious in every deliberate motion. Not everyone would tend to such small things.”

Seungkwan paused for a moment, his fingers brushing the surface of the water as he carefully set the leaf adrift. “The small things often matter most.”

Silence fell between them, the pond’s gentle ripple echoing their thoughts, as though they’d shared many such moments before.

Hansol leaned forward slightly, his voice quieter than before. “We are family now, and I’m glad our house welcomed you.”

Seungkwan’s fingers never stopped their delicate work, but he met Hansol’s gaze steadily, not rushing, but with an unspoken connection.

“Your kindness is appreciated, young master.”

Hansol’s expression softened, “I... I admire your quiet courage. Not everyone would stand so unwaveringly beside someone like Prince Jeonghan.”

Seungkwan’s lips twitched, just the faintest hint of a smile. “Not all can see what is under the surface.”

The sun sat, and lanterns flickered, casting long shadows as Hansol reached out, grazing a strand of Seungkwan’s hair from his collar.

Seungkwan’s breath caught at his throat,he swallowed and dipped the leaf into the water, letting it drift away as he offered a gentle nod.

The conversation slowed as Hansol’s eyes grew intent, his gaze unblinking as he watched Seungkwan’s steady motions. No words passed between them for several moments, but something heavier than silence settled in the air.

The koi swam slowly around them, their movements as quiet as the growing connection between them.

“There will come a day when we are no longer apart in class, but equals in something deeper.” Said Hansol in a quiet voice.

Seungkwan’s breath was soft, but steady as he whispered, his voice like a secret shared only between them. “If that day comes, I will be ready.”

Their eyes met, a bond forming between them that neither could deny. As the shadows lengthened, Hansol gave a final smile, a momentary expression of quiet resolve. He turned and departed, leaving Seungkwan by the water’s edge, his gaze fixed on the spot where Hansol had stood.

Seungkwan’s heart was full of hope and something more, something deeper.

It was past midnight. The estate lay covered in silence, broken only by the distant rustle of bamboo and the soft chirping of crickets. The grand lanterns had been extinguished, and the world outside seemed to sleep.

Only a single paper lamp swayed gently in the small covered corridor that led to the moon gate, a secluded archway tucked between the inner garden and the side pavilion.

There, waiting in the shadows, stood Hansol, his cloak thrown over a simple tunic, hair loosened from the constraints of court formality. His gaze flicked toward the corridor,and his eyes searched the waxing moon as though seeking its guidance.

The unmistakable sound of light, deliberate, and unmistakably familiar footsteps approached.

Seungkwan appeared, in robes of midnight-blue, his sleeves tucked tightly, the small oil lamp in his hand casting a soft golden glow over his composed features. His expression was unreadable, but there was no doubt in his movements, he had come with purpose.

Hansol turned, he spoke in a low voice, “You came.”

Seungkwan’s lips quirked, but his tone remained measured. “You shouldn’t have summoned me like this. If someone sees…”

Hansol replied gently, “Then let them see. I don’t care.”

Seungkwan’s eyes softened, but he said nothing. A quiet wind passed through the gate, stirring the hem of Hansol’s robe. He stepped forward, halting inches away, and in the hush between them, something fragile and potent bloomed; the air was thick with unsaid things.

Hansol whispered, “You’re always so careful,” “But tell me, don’t you feel something between us?”

Seungkwan didn’t flinch. His throat worked slowly, then finally, he spoke, his voice low and even, “I feel it,” he said, his eyes locking with Hansol’s. “But you are of noble blood, the General’s nephew, and I am a servant, though valued. Such things are not meant to take root.”

Hansol stepped closer, his hand hesitated, and then rested lightly against Seungkwan’s jaw. The touch was neither forceful nor commanding, but searching to see whether Seungkwan would pull away.

He didn’t. Seungkwan’s eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned into that palm for the briefest of moments, like a bird seeking refuge in a storm. When he opened them again, something had changed. Seungkwan replied then, “If we take this path,” he murmured, in a steady voice, but carrying a weight of finality, “we cannot go back.”

Hansol’s expression trembled, that steel-cold exterior breaking, revealing the longing that had been hidden beneath all along. “Then I will not ask to go back.”

Seungkwan reached out, his fingers brushing the folds of Hansol’s sleeve, then resting gently over his heart.

Their foreheads touched with unspoken promises, fears, and inevitabilities.

And just before they parted, Hansol pressed something into Seungkwan’s hand, a carved token of dark wood, the shape of a hawk in flight.

“My token,” he said. “Not for display. Just for you.”

Seungkwan stared at it in his palm and spoke in a soft voice, “Then I’ll keep it close.”

Seungkwan looked up, eyes wide with emotion. In that moment, the distance of night and tradition fell away. Hansol’s other hand moved to cradle Seungkwan’s face, thumb gently brushing his cheek. The touch was a tender,silent promise.

Seungkwan closed his eyes, a single tear gleaming in the candlelight symbolizing an acknowledgment of their defiance and devotion.

Dawn came quietly over the bamboo grove. Jeonghan had risen early and walked the familiar paths where he often found solace. But that morning, soft rustles drew him toward the grove’s shaded edge.

There, beneath the arching stalks, he saw them both, Seungkwan, pressed close to Hansol, voices hushed, the hawk token resting in Seungkwan’s open palm. With no outward sign, Jeonghan stepped back, his heart caught between conflicts.

Hansol paused, sensing movement. In the clearing of untouched dawn, he turned and met Jeonghan’s gaze. Seungkwan froze. His eyes flicked to Hansol, then flicked to Jeonghan.

A weighty silence fell. The world outside the grove seemed to hold its breath.

Jeonghan’s expression was calm, measured, but his voice trembled with quiet authority. “This… cannot remain hidden.”

Hansol swallowed, expression respectful yet pained. “Jeonghan Samchon, I care for Seungkwan. With my whole heart.”

Seungkwan dared to raise his eyes. Voice trembling, he spoke without hesitation, “I care for him too hyung.”

A moment of silence passed between them, Jeonghan’s tone softened, “If this is love… then I will protect it. But you must not provoke scandal.”

Hansol bowed low in gratitude. “I will walk beside him openly as an Alpha and a husband.”

Seungkwan fell to one knee, brimming with tears. “I will support him with honor, hyung.”

Jeonghan nodded to both of them. “Then we walk this path together. All of us.”

Moonlight faded, giving way to pale dawn. The three of them stood beneath the bamboo, united in challenge, bound by care. The world awaited, but they would meet it together.

Dawn glinted over dew covered bamboo stalks, Only then did the gentle creak of wooden doors signal the approach of the General’s sister, Hansol’s mother, drawn by the same soft footfalls.

She halted at the grove’s edge, breath catching at the sight,  Jeonghan, dignified yet wounded, standing protectively between Seungkwan and her son. The knowledge dawning on her face was a fragile portrait of shock and worry.

Her voice trembled more out of fear than anger, “What is this?”

Jeonghan stepped forward, bowing his head in deference. “Lady Yujin, I understand your concerns. I found them here, but they are not wrong. Their bond is true, and it is love.”

Hansol’s mother swallowed hard, suspicion clouding her eyes. “Seungkwan is a servant, no match for nobility, this is unthinkable.”

Seungkwan, pale but steady, knelt properly beside Hansol. “Lady Yujin, I respect you. I would never betray your trust. But I cherish your son, my heart has found a home in his.”

Hansol took a cautious step forward. “Eomma, this is real. I have felt its truth in every moment."

Jeonghan, graceful but firm, added, “Love is never wrong sister-in-law and love matters above all things.”

Lady Yujin’s eyes flickered between them, emotions dancing across her face. They walked slowly toward her beneath the bamboo arch. Every step was silent, determined. Lady Yujin’s posture softened.

Lady Yujin spoke with worry, “How can I call them forward? My peers would mock me, the world is not kind to such alliances.”

Hansol spoke softly, “Mother, we will face the world together. Please, in your heart, know I am still your son.”

Seungkwan bowed deeply. “I ask only for the chance to prove our devotion through service, through honor. Let them reveal my loyalty.”

Lady Yujin closed her eyes. The morning mist carried the scent of new beginnings. “Then let your union stand. Let your love show them what true honor is.”

Seungkwan rose beside Hansol, his eyes glossy. Hansol approached his mother slowly, placing his hand firmly in hers. “Thank you, Mother.”

The moon hung low over the estate, veiled by the soft silk of night clouds. Lanterns glowed dimly along the covered walkway, but deeper within the private garden, only the hush of wind and cicadas remained.

Jeonghan sat beside a stone basin, trailing his fingers through the cool water where lotus blooms floated, untouched. His outer robe was undone, hair still damp from the earlier bath. He looked up only when he heard the familiar sound of armor being removed, soft clinks, then silence.

Seungcheol stepped forward, his robe loosely tied, shadows playing across his strong jaw and warmth in his eyes. Jeonghan smiled gently.

Their eyes met, no formality between them now. Just two soul unburdened by titles, rules, or judgment. Jeonghan reached up, fingers curling into Seungcheol’s loose collar and gently pulling him closer. “I command you to stay with me tonight. Not as general. Not even as a Duke. Just as, yourself as my husband.”

Seungcheol’s breath slowed down. He tilted his head slightly, leaning forward until their lips met.

It was a kiss born of quiet understanding and promise soft and certain. Jeonghan’s hand slid to Seungcheol’s cheek, Seungcheol responded with equal care, one hand steadying Jeonghan’s back, the other resting at his waist.

They parted briefly, only to meet again, slower this time, a deeper sinking into one another. Jeonghan made a quiet sound, something content and close to a sigh.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, eyes still closed, breath shared in the soft space between.

Seungcheol said quietly, “I never thought I’d have this, someone who looks at me and sees more than duty.”

Jeonghan replied softly, “And I never thought someone so burdened by war would hold me like I’m made of peace.”

Seungcheol pressed another kiss this time to Jeonghan’s temple, then his hairline, “I will hold you like that every night if you let me.”

Jeonghan smiled, curling into him, his hand resting against Seungcheol’s chest, where his heartbeat pulsed steady, “Then stay. Just like this.”

And so they did, entwined beneath the garden canopy, and the hush of the world pausing just for them.

Soon they heard footsteps. Not hurried, not hostile but measured, even graceful.

Both the Alpha and Omega straightened subtly.

From the arched entrance, a calm voice appeared, “My apologies, I would not intrude, but the matter cannot wait.”

Prince Hyungwon stepped into view, clad in black and silver court robes, he carried the bearing of someone born into restraint, but forged in observation. His eyes sharp, and cool found Jeonghan’s first, then flicked to Seungcheol.

“You’re not intruding, Prince Hyungwon. Come in.” Jeonghan said softly.

Seungcheol nodded, “Your timing is rarely casual. What’s changed?”

Hyungwon stepped closer, folding his hands behind his back. “News from the Ministry of War arrived. Dingbei’s forces crossed the northern river two nights ago. A fortress at Yalu fell without resistance. Five minor lords declared allegiance to him.”

The air shifted, even the apricot blossoms seemed to hold still.

“It’s faster than we thought.” Jeonghan said.

Seungcheol grimly said, “Too fast. Someone within the court is feeding him information.”

Hyungwon gave a small nod, his jaw tightening, “And the Emperor’s council continues to stall. They fear arming the North would provoke civil unrest. They fear giving the army to you would hand you a crown.”

He met Seungcheol’s eyes directly not as a rival, but as a man who knew how much power frightened old dynasties.

“I don’t need a crown. Just the ability to stop a traitor before he takes the capital.”

Hyungwon replied, “Which is why I came. If I speak in open support of you, the court will fall into chaos. But I have sent my personal attendant to the border. My name still holds weight with the prefectures.”

Jeonghan’s expression softened, “So you’ve chosen a side.”

Hyungwon glanced at him briefly and replied, “I always had. But timing matters.”

Silence passed.

Hyungwon replied more gently, “You chose well, Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan didn’t look away. “And so did you.”

Hyungwon gave a respectful bow to them both. “I leave at dawn for the northern watchtower. If Prince of Dingbei presses farther inland, we may not have a capital to return to.”

Seungcheol replied, “We’ll hold it. We always do.”

Hyungwon turned to go, but paused at the garden gate. “Be careful he is not acting alone.”

And with that, he disappeared into the torch-lit corridor.

Silence settled again.

Seungcheol leaned back beside Jeonghan, their hands still entwined.

Jeonghan spoke quietly, “The empire is breaking in places.”

Seungcheol replied, “Then we’ll hold it together. Even if we bleed for it.”

He turned, brushing his lips against Jeonghan’s temple. “We lead together, remember? Not for glory. Not for legacy. For this,”
His hand tightened in Jeonghan’s. “and the peace it promises, if we survive.”

The lantern flickered as wind moved through the apricot branches above them, fragile petals drifting down like falling time. And in that quiet, Jeonghan closed his eyes and leaned into him.

Under moonlight in his courtyard, HYungwon stood alone by the lily pond. He whispered into the stillness, “Do you remember the first poem I wrote? I thought if I gave you enough words, you’d stay.”

A single tear traced his cheek. “But words are not vows, and love, real love, was never mine to command.”

He pulled the letter from his robe, eyes filled with regret, and cast it into the flame. The paper curled and blackened, the fire swallowing it.

Hyungwon stood atop his balcony at sunrise, palm against cool stone. “Let him be happy. Let his heart be filled with someone who dares. Dare to choose him, love him, fight for him.”

He closed his eyes, exhaling the last embers of his grief. The dawn breeze carried them away.

Next morning, in the Imperial palace, The Morning Hall gleamed with lacquered beams and soft jade-filtered light. Courtiers lined the chamber in layers of embroidered silk, their heads bowed before Emperor Hyojin, who sat poised beneath the golden dragon canopy.

The Emperor’s voice carried through the incense-laden air, “Tax relief shall be granted to plague-afflicted provinces. In exchange, each household must pledge increased aid to the northern defense.”

A murmur ran through the nobles.

At the center before the Emperor stood Duke Seungcheol, dressed in austere military garb, the scarlet and ivory of his rank visible for all to see. His face was composed, but his presence drew both reverence and scrutiny.

Then came the slow, deliberate steps of the Prince of  Dingbei, dressed in opulent violet brocade. Surrounded by Minister Zhao and Grand Tutor, he bowed low before the throne.

“Your Majesty, may I suggest a doubling of our troop presence along the northern passes? Waiting any longer would signal weakness.” The Prince of Dingbei said.

The words were respectful, yet their blade was pointed, aimed directly at Seungcheol’s chest.

He continued, “Certain border generals have grown overly cautious. The capital must lead with resolve.”

The implication landed hard. Seungcheol’s knuckles tensed around the hilt of his ceremonial sword, but he did not speak out of turn.

Emperor Hyojin asked Seungcheol, “Duke Seungcheol, what do you say?”

Seungcheol stepped forward and bowed deeply. “Your Majesty, bold action has its place. But we must not drain the reserves of households already strained by plague. I propose reinforcing the outer strongholds while maintaining integrity.”

A long pause followed, courtiers whispered among themselves. The atmosphere is split between camps. Prince of Dingbei’s lips curled faintly.
“Logistical integrity is important. But our enemies would not stay at the border, will they?”

The Emperor narrowed his eyes slightly, gaze flickering between them both.

Later that evening, within his private estate in the capital, Prince of Dingbei reviewed a wall of maps under candlelight, troop lines, inked trade routes, and red-circled prefectures marked regions of unrest. Choi Jungil leaned close. “The Ministry of Revenue has accepted our reports. Rumors of Duke Seungcheol misallocating funds to protect his own estate are spreading.”

Dingbei smiled without warmth. “Good. The General is brave but chained. He defends an estate with a mate of controversial rank. Some already question whether his loyalty lies with family or empire.”

He sipped from a cup of plum wine. “Let the court question his judgment. If we do not topple him in war, we will bleed him in scandal.”

The scent of ink and old parchment filled Seungcheol’s study. He read the scroll in silence, an official notice suggesting misuse of military funds, signed by a sub-bureau under Dingbei’s influence.

He looked up to see Junhui enter, followed by Minghao and Seungkwan.Seungcheol said with a grim voice, “They’re not coming at us with swords. Not yet. They aim to hollow us from within.”

Minghao replied, “We’ve already traced the rumors to Dingbei’s scribes. But they’re being careful, there is no direct proof.”

Junhui asked, “What’s the order, General?”

Seungcheol stood, pushing aside the scrolls. “We hold. We gather every prefect’s record, every transport seal.”

He paused for a moment and added, “And keep Jeonghan away from the court’s eye. If they want a weakness, they will look for him first.”

In the capital, between the nobles and commoners, all sorts of rumours spread across.

“Is Duchess Jeonghan's trade house evading taxes?”
“Did Duke Seungcheol funnel state grain to his private estate?”

Even ministers once aligned with them hesitated, eyes downcast when they passed. But Seungcheol, held his head high, moved through the storm with his loyal people.

At a lavish banquet hosted by the Empress Dowager, gold lanterns shimmered like stars on still water. Nobles and foreign dignitaries dined beneath silken canopies. Prince of Dingbei, clad in midnight brocade, presided not at the Emperor’s side but among the realm’s most feared ministers.

He raised a cup of tea to Seungcheol, smiling with polite venom. “I hope everything is well at the borders, Duke.”

Seungcheol returned the toast, “Thank you for your care, Prince.”

Few days later Prince of Dingbei arranged for a special tribunal that was convened before Emperor Hyojin.

Prince of Dingbei stood at the center, surrounded by Chancellor Li and the Grand Tutor. He cast accusation after accusation, from fund mismanagement to tax manipulation to even treason.

But Seungcheol stepped forward with his response. Carefully arranged proofs were presented before the Emperor, Scrolls showing grain redistribution aided by the Yanzhou Guild. Letters from prefects and governors praising relief and infrastructure, merchant testimonials confirming legal trade conduct.

The Emperor listened, silent. Then he stood.
“Prince of Dingbei, your concerns are noted. But they lack the weight of truth.”

The Emperor turned to Seungcheol.

“Compassion is not weakness. The realm is not preserved by conquest alone. The General and his household are absolved of any accusation.”

Prince of Dingbei bowed stiffly. But in his silence was fury yet unspent.

That night, lanterns glowed softly in the bamboo grove. Seungcheol and Jeonghan walked hand-in-hand beneath rustling leaves, the wind carrying the scent of rain and ink.

Jeonghan said softly, “They’ll strike again. Their silence is not surrender.”

Seungcheol replied quietly, “Let them. We’ve withstood worse. And now we are not alone.”

Next day In the grand Morning Hall, sunlight filtered through translucent jade screens onto polished wooden floors. Courtiers assembled under the gaze of Emperor Hyojin, his expression solemn yet resolute.

He raised his hand, an invitation to silence and addressed his court.
“Nobles of this realm, our strength is not found merely in armies or alliances but in the dignity of all our people.”

He paused and looked toward the Empress Dowager, seated gracefully beside him. She inclined her head, dignified approval evident.

“By counsel of my mother, and by witnessing the qualities in Commandery Prince and Duchess Yoon Jeonghan and his invaluable deeds for this country, this court is called to raise its standard.”

The courtiers stirred; some of them were intrigued, others worried.

“I hereby declare the following, Omegas may now choose the path of scholarly service, if they so wish. Omegas may now petition for divorce to protect them against coercive or abusive unions.”

A hush fell. Some ministers nodded thoughtfully, others stiffened in silence.

That afternoon, within the Hidden Pavilion adjoining the palace garden, Jeonghan approached the Empress Dowager the glow of pale lanterns highlighting the embroidered dragons on her robe.

“Your Majesty, your influence has changed destiny. The realm will remember this day.”

The Dowager’s eyes softened, “My son once taught that mercy is not the absence of strength, it is the shape of authority when wielded rightly.”

Seungcheol offered a humble bow.

Empress Dowager said quietly, “You’ve shown me that Jeonghan, though you are born Omega, you are capable of judgment and justice equal to any noble. Your loyality and merit are no less. Let them be the foundation of something better.”

In the coastal county of Liangzhou, where Jeonghan’s southern trade post was based, a crowd gathered at dawn. Omegas stood in new uniforms, books, and quills in their hands, eyes bright with possibility.

Seungkwan, addressed the group, “Today you begin your study in the civil examinations. Your effort will determine your service, not your birth.”

And in the audience, people exchanged proud looks. Further down the road, Hansol met with Omegas who are now eligible to submit petitions, scholarly essays, and even divorce requests to the prefect. The air, usually heavy with awe or fear, carried aspiration.

That night, beneath the glowing moon and rustling bamboo, Seungcheol and Jeonghan walked with Hansol and Seungkwan by their side.

The lanterns reflected off the pools. Jeonghan looked toward Seungcheol, eyes luminous.
“They said I didn’t belong in court. They said my rank would tear us apart. But today, all this is changed.”

Seungcheol folded his arm around him. “It was never your rank they resisted, but what you represented loyalty, fairness, compassion.”

Seungkwan bowed his head to Jeonghan respectfully, “This decree opens paths no Omega dared dream. Now Omegas don’t have to follow the societal norm.”

Late night

Prince of Dingbei’s Quarter

Late at night, Prince of Dingbei stood before a long black desk, candlelight flickering across maps of provincial garrisons and grain silos. Advisors and rebel sympathizers, army captains and disgruntled staff lined the room. The new decree stirred their ambitions.

Prince of Dingbei said in a disgusted voice, “They reward Omegas with power, foolish kindness from the Emperor. We must harness the discontent.”

He tapped a map, “Begin by rallying border regiments. They are far from the Emperor’s gaze. We spread the word, the reform weakens the society and rewards softness. We’ll issue secret leaflets across the southern provinces.”

A captain nodded, voice low, “Already, peasants associated with military households are uneasy. Our messengers are prepared.”

Prince of Dingbei continued, “Next, look at the storehouses in Gyeongsang and Busan. When harvest comes, we delay distribution, pin it on the ‘burden’ of the edict. Then, when a storm hits, villagers will see the court as careless.”

He paused, in a calculating manner, “Soon, famine and fear will echo across the hills.”

The advisors bowed and left the room.

On the other hand, over the next weeks, inspectors left on caravans disguised as trade delegations, carrying official seals to approve Omega craftsman guilds and distribute apprentice stipends. Institutions taught calligraphy, medicine, and artisanal skills to Omegas. Civil exams welcomed Omega scholars, hundreds of Omegas presented applications.

Simultaneously, rebels circulated tales of delayed grain shipments, tax collectors demanding more, and guilds siphoning funds. In certain villages, signs read, “These policies feed omegas,and contempt us Alphas.”

Even the court was divided into two sides, Pro-reform voices who believed the Emperor should listen to everyone’s voice, and on the other hand was the faction of the Prince of Dingbei, who believed the reforms create inequality, forgetting the Alphas.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol knew what Prince of Dingbei was planning, so they toured afflicted villages, handing out relief personally. When protests erupted at stockpiles, the Choi Army offered supplies and promised a review. The General’s reputation for fairness grew stronger than rumors. Jeonghan recorded testimonies, ready to bring evidence to court.

Storm clouds gathered not just in the sky, but in the realm. A border prefect, backed by the Prince of  Dingbei, declared martial law in his district. Rebel banners were raised in remote villages, and rebel soldiers blocked trade caravans mid-route.

The Emperor called an emergency session. Jeonghan and Seungcheol arrived at the court with both trade maps and military information.

Prince of  Dingbei sat composed and calm, his purple robes richer than ever, concealing purposeful ambition. Jeonghan stepped forward confidently, presenting his evidence, “Here are harvest ledgers captured from rebel hands, they show withheld grain shipments tied to rebel cache amounts.”

Even Dingbei’s inner circle looked uncertain as the Emperor nodded gravely.

“Anyone aiding these rebels, especially a prince, must have cause for justice or rebellion.”

Prince of Dingbei’s face remained impassive, but his jaw tightened.

A covert war council gathered at the Choi estate. Surrounded by maps was Jeonghan, Seungcheol, trusted ministers, and loyal prefects.

“Deploy relief caravans. Steady grain stores in affected areas. Hold the lines of communication. Cut off rebel movements.” Seungcheol ordered towards Dokyeom.

Jeonghan spoke up, “And simultaneously, we gather our power against the rebels.”

Wonwoo spoke of a preposition, “If we can starve out the rebels and expose their tactics, the Empire will stand united.”

Prince of Dingbei’s plan was isolation and famine. Jeonghan’s would be exposure and compassion.

The Imperial court was a gilded cage, its grand halls echoing with whispered threats and veiled barbs. Prince of Dingbei had long mastered the art of subtlety, a serpent coiled in regal robes.

In the sout wing of the Dingbei palace, draped in violet silk and sandalwood haze, Sung Eunseo lounged behind a lacquered screen, her fingers tapping a wine goblet absently. Prince of Dingbei stood nearby, flanked by Choi Jungil, his expression tight with controlled ambition.

Prince of Dingbei leaned in, voice smooth and sharp, “General Seungcheol and Jeonghan grow bolder with each passing edict. The court whispers of reform, but what I see is consolidation, power held tightly in callused hands. This is not the way to balance. This is erosion of society disguised as mercy.”

Eunseo’s eyes narrowed beneath the curve of her brow fan, “You mean to say, their rise threatens more than tradition. It threatens us.”

Choi Jungil gave a tight nod, sliding forward a stack of merchant records. Some true and most tailored.

He said, “Jeonghan’s guilds extend further than reported. There are tax gaps. Loans taken against future crops. All perfectly legal, yet can be easily framed as manipulation.”

Prince of Dingbei smiled viciously, “Let the whispers begin. Let the Empire wonder whether these  reforms are truly benevolent or not.”

Eunseo sipped once more, then placed the goblet down with an audible click.
“Let’s do it. Let us stir the Council, but subtly. Let the Emperor see smoke before we shout fire.”

Days later, inside the throne hall, The Emperor presided, flanked by advisors. Prince of Dingbei stood at the center, bearing a leather-bound dossier.

“I rise not in opposition but in responsibility. With the realm’s trust must come scrutiny. I submit this report, unexplained coin movements from Duchess Yoon’s guilds. Estates under the General’s name extended without court ratification.”

Gasps fluttered across the room, and the Emperor’s gaze moved slowly from the scroll to Dingbei’s face.

The Emperor spoke in a measured voice, “Order investigations. But this court shall not be ruled by whispers. Justice must be built on truth, not a tapestry of imagination.”

Murmurs passed. Some ministers, young, uncertain, glanced toward the Prince of Dingbei with troubled eyes. Others, seasoned and sharper, nodded faintly. The trap had been set.

Simultaneously, in the dense forest camps miles from the capital, Prince of Dingbei’s rebellion thrummed with grim purpose.

In a hidden pavilion draped with black silk, Prince of Dingbei surveyed his commanders. Maps spread before them marked villages under rebel control and supply lines.

“Our enemies grow complacent, bound by law and honor. But their Achilles heel is their compassion,” he said sharply.

He gestured to a list of strategic targets, “Sabotage the granaries in Gyeonggi-do. Starve the loyalists. Ambush any relief caravans. Spread word that the General’s kindness is weakness.”

A captain from the northern hills nodded, “We have recruited disillusioned soldiers and peasants. The discontent among the military families grows. Soon, the capital itself will feel the tremors.”

Orders flew as rebels disguised as imperial merchants infiltrated markets, poisoning grain stores labeled for loyalist villages. False pamphlets declared that the new policies were a ploy to dismantle the traditional social order. Night raids burned isolated outposts, framed as acts of ‘justice for the neglected warriors’.

Back within the palace walls, the pressure mounted relentlessly.

Seungcheol sat stiffly at a Council session, followed by Jeonghan, who held a thick dossier of receipts, petitions, and letters from village elders.

Prince of Dingbei’s voice rang out across the chamber, “How can we trust leaders who enable rebellion by appeasing insurgents? Who funds merchants that spread dissent? Have they not sold the Empire’s strength for hollow peace?”

Seungcheol’s voice was steady but tired, “We serve the Empire with honor and loyality. Our efforts have rebuilt villages and protected lives.”

Jeonghan stepped forward, voice calm and firm, “These accusations are baseless and fueled by fear. The very people here can vouch for our loyalty.”

Yet cracks showed. Some nobles glanced away, uncertain. Others whispered. The weight of scrutiny grew unbearable.

That night, in the dim glow of their chambers, Jeonghan and Seungcheol shared a rare moment of vulnerability.

Jeonghan’s fingers trembled as he stared at a pile of letters, some supportive, many laced with doubt.

“ Prince of Dingbei’s web tightens. We are trapped between his court intrigues and his rebellion’s cruelty.”

The Alpha’s gaze softened. “Then we must be smarter. Stronger. We face enemies who strike from shadows and from the light.”

In secret meetings, Jeonghan convened with trusted ministers and loyal prefects. He distributed detailed evidence of Prince of Dingbei’s orchestrations, intercepted rebel messages, lists of sympathizers, and forged documents meant to implicate them.

Yet mistrust lingered like poison.

An old noble, Lady Lin, whispered harshly to her son, “Watch that Omega closely. Even the sweetest flower can hide thorns.”

Meanwhile, Prince of Dingbei capitalized on every fissure, his agents spreading doubt in markets and council chambers alike.

In a blazing firelit tent, Prince of Dingbei addressed his war council, voice low but fierce, “We strike again at the capital’s gates. When the court sees chaos, it will choose whom to follow. The Duke and his precious Omega will fall, not by sword alone, but by the people’s lost faith.”

He held a bloodied letter, “Our sympathizers report growing support in the city’s merchant quarters. Soon, the Empire’s heartbeat will falter.”

The capital teetered between loyalty and upheaval. Jeonghan and Seungcheol were isolated yet undefeated. Prince of Dingbei’s plans were conspired from both inside the palace and through the fires of rebellion beyond.

The winter wind blew bitterly through the estate courtyard, rustling dried magnolia leaves against the stone path. Servants had gone quiet since morning, too quiet, as though the entire household held its breath.

Then came the sound of ceremonial bells. A procession approached, six guards in formal colors, followed by a high eunuch in red robes. The eunuch’s hands were wrapped around a vermilion scroll sealed with the imperial crest. Behind him trailed a palace clerk and two silent scribes.

They did not knock. They waited until summoned. Protocol had already been shattered.

Jeonghan stood in the main receiving hall, framed by lacquered pillars and cold incense. Seungkwan whispered from behind, voice barely audible, “Hyung, it’s from the Emperor.”

He nodded once. His hands, so often steady, trembled slightly at his sides.

The eunuch bowed low, his voice smooth, “By the will of the Son of Heaven, bearer of the Mandate and guardian of the realm, let it be known.”

The parchment unfurled.

“Northern Duke Choi Seungcheol, having been found in violation of the Empire’s internal security by association with suspected insurgents and failure to report unlawful border dealings, shall be taken into custody by order of the Emperor.”

“All assets pertaining to the Choi estate shall be reviewed and temporarily frozen under imperial seal until the Council’s inquiry concludes.”

The words fell like frost. “Effective immediately.”

The eunuch looked up. His eyes were not cruel, but not kind either.

Jeonghan said nothing. He did not fall, did not weep. He merely stood. The scroll was placed on a lacquered table, its ribbon still quivering.

The palace retinue departed. The wind remained.

Jeonghan sat down slowly on the cold stone bench outside the west corridor, facing the pond that Seungcheol had helped dredge three winters ago. The koi beneath the surface had long since gone still with the weather. Like him.

“They framed him.” Jeonghan thought to himself.

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t outrage, it was just fact. He thought of Seungcheol’s last touch that morning, the half-smile. The way he had paused as though sensing a shift in the wind then said nothing.

He thought of how much Seungcheol had sacrificed for the country, power, comfort, even court favor, and now the same Empire had taken him. Not with bloodshed, but with law. With order.

Behind Jeonghan, distant voices murmured, servants murmured quietly.

Jeonghan closed his eyes. For a moment, he let himself feel it, the ache, the fear, the unbearable stillness of waiting. And then he breathed.

He would not collapse like the soft-hearted Omega they expected. He was Jeonghan, the one Seungcheol trusted to hold the house when he could not, and so he stood once more.

Chapter Text

The Prison Cell

The cell was damp and shadowed, the only light a thin sliver from the small window.

Seungcheol sat on the cold floor, his hands were chained, his armor discarded. Jeonghan was brought to stand before the bars, unable to touch his husband.

Jeonghan said with a broken voice, “How did it come to this? You didn’t deserve this, no one does.”

The Alpha’s eyes were weary but burning with resolve. His eyes met Jeonghan’s, “I took the blame. To shield you. To protect you from their venom. If I fall, they may still see you as their prize. But if they harm you,”

His voice cracked. “I can’t bear that.”

Jeonghan pressed his hands to the bars; his fingertips went numb from the cold steel.

“We’ll find a way. I swear, I’ll find a way to get you out.”

The Alpha’s gaze softened, as if that fragile hope was a source of light in the darkness.

Days passed by, and any word from the outside was scarce. Jeonghan visited whenever he could, and each meeting grew more painful than the last.

“Every moment without you is an eternity. I feel the world cracking under my feet.” Jeonghan’s voice cracked.

Seungcheol’s voice was a whisper, hoarse from silence. “Stay strong, Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan’s tears spilled freely. “I’m scared of losing you, of this Empire tearing us apart.”

Seungcheol closed his eyes, a single tear escaping. “If I fall, I want you to live for both of us. For a future where we’re free.”

The once-proud Choi estate, a fortress of strength and honor, now lay shrouded in silence. Red lanterns flickered weakly against walls scarred by insults, threats, and whispered rumors that spread like wildfire.

Without Seungcheol’s guiding hand, the household faltered. The estate’s retainers grew restless some abandoning their posts, others quietly whispering doubt and suspicion about Jeonghan’s influence.

The Second Aunt, once a minor thorn beneath the surface, now tightened her grip with merciless precision. She stripped the estate’s coffers under the guise of “protection” and turned trusted servants into spies. The red silk banners that once symbolized prosperity were replaced by faded curtains, heavy with neglect.

Jeonghan arrived one evening, breath ragged from a day spent begging for support, only to find the grand halls eerily deserted, save for a handful of loyal servants huddled in fear.

His heart clenched violently. “This is what remains without him,” Jeonghan muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes swept over the scattered remains of his Alpha’s proud lineage, the broken jade vase, the cracked lacquered table, the abandoned embroidery frame of the betrothal gifts.

He sank to his knees, grief twisting through his chest like cold steel.

Determined, Jeonghan set out to rally the court and loyal nobles. He traversed from gilded hall to marble corridor, clutching his appeals to ministers, generals, and merchants alike.

But everywhere, doors closed in his face. Voices, once warm, now echoed icy skepticism.

“The Duke is a traitor,” a noble sneered.

Even those who owed their fortunes to Jeonghan’s trade guilds avoided him, wary of the dangerous tides.

Jeonghan’s frustration swelled into a storm within.

“After everything… after all I’ve sacrificed, all the lessons I learned from my past life, how can I fail now? Why can I not protect him?”

Back at the estate, the atmosphere weighed heavily. Jeonghan stood quietly in the garden, the distant cries of the street blending with the hollow silence within.

He had barely eaten for days.

His fingers trembled slightly as he pressed a hand to his abdomen, he felt an ache.

He turned to speak, but the light blurred, and soon, breath left his body.

“Jeonghan-hyung!” Seungkwan’s voice rang out sharply as he rushed forward, catching Jeonghan just before his knees struck the stone.
Junhui and Minghao hurried in behind him, pale with panic.

“Get Jihoon hyung!” Seungkwan barked, his hands gently cradling Jeonghan’s head.

Moments later, Jihoon stormed in, medical box in hand. The air was filled with tension.

“Move him, there, to the chair, carefully.”

He took Jeonghan’s pulse, examined his eyes, and pressed carefully at pressure points along his wrist and abdomen. Then, after a long, hushed moment, Jihoon exhaled.

His voice was tight. Disbelieving.

“He’s… pregnant. Four months. How did we not see this sooner?”

Gasps filled the room. Jeonghan stirred weakly as Jihoon grasped his hand.

“You need to rest. You’re not just carrying grief anymore,” Jihoon said gently. “You’re carrying the Duke’s child.”

Tears spilled silently from Jeonghan’s lashes as he looked at his brother, understanding dawning upon him slowly.

“He doesn’t even know,” Jeonghan whispered. “He doesn’t know I’m carrying his child.”

That night, in his chamber, Jeonghan’s mask finally shattered.

His hands shook as he clenched the silk sheets, biting back a cry that threatened to undo him completely.

‘I knew the future. I was given this second chance to change the course of fate, to save him. Yet here I am, powerless.’

His mind raced through memories, visions of triumph, of hope, of love once protected. All dissolving into this brutal present.

“Even with rebirth, even with all my knowledge, I cannot rewrite this tragedy alone.”

The bitter sting of self-loathing pierced deeper than any wound. But despair gave way to a fire too deep to extinguish.

Jeonghan stood abruptly, eyes ablaze with quiet vengeance.

“If the court will not help, if the nobles betray us, then I will forge my own path.”

He began drafting letters in the flickering candlelight, his hands steady even as his heart burned.

He would rebuild alliances not with favor, but with truth.

“I will tear apart every lie they’ve sown,” he said, voice flat with resolve. “Until there is nowhere left for them to hide.”

Yet beneath the rage, a fragile hope held steady that somehow, someday, he could bring Seungcheol home.

And this time, protect the future growing inside him.

Jeonghan stood in a hidden courtyard, his eyes locked on the shadowed silhouette of the city prison, his body ached with exhaustion, his soul, even more so. But his resolve had crystallized.

He needed allies. Not just in the court’s hollow chambers, but in the heartbeat of the empire, among generals, merchants, and those who still whispered Seungcheol’s name with reverence.

One by one, they began to come.

Among the first was his maternal cousin, Seonghwa.

Married to the Commandery Prince of Liangzhou, a man who governed the vast and vital southern territories, Seonghwa had always carried himself with quiet dignity and exacting calm. An Omega like Jeonghan, he had long stood as proof that influence and softness could coexist, and that subtlety often wielded greater power.

Their meeting took place within the hushed elegance of an abandoned teahouse beneath the moonlight.

Seonghwa’s eyes narrowed with growing resolve as Jeonghan spoke. “They mean to erase him. To make our suffering look like justice.”
“Then let them see you bleed with purpose,” Seonghwa replied. “They will learn what loyalty costs.”

He reached into his sleeve, handing Jeonghan a sealed letter stamped with the Liangzhou crest.

“My husband has already dispatched quiet orders to border commanders. Reinforcements can reach the capital if unrest blooms. No one will see them coming, not until they’ve already arrived.”

His voice hardened, and he spoke in a calm but razor-sharp voice. “I’ll also have our agents flood the merchant lanes with counter-narratives. For every slander  Prince of Dingbei releases, we’ll feed the truth into every market stall and carriage house. Rumors may travel fast, but truth has deeper roots.”

For the first time in days, Jeonghan felt something stir in his chest, not just resistance, but hope.

Seonghwa’s husband, the Prince of Liangzhou, had been a more reluctant ally in the early days of the political storm. Known for his careful diplomacy and sharp instincts, Hongjoong had watched the unraveling court with eyes honed by years of military and bureaucratic discipline.

But loyalty to the Empire and to Seonghwa had ultimately guided his hand.

They met in a private study tucked deep within his residence in the capital, away from prying eyes. The windows were shut, incense burning low, the air thick with tension.

Hongjoong stood over a table littered with maps and correspondence, his fingers pressed lightly to a wax seal still warm from dispatch.

“I’ve quietly negotiated with some of the senior officers in the capital garrisons and outlying provinces,” he said, his tone low but resolute. “The loyalty of the army is not as fractured as Prince of  Dingbei wants everyone to believe.”

He turned, meeting Jeonghan’s gaze squarely.

“If you need me to strike at his factions within the army, we can. We have officers loyal to us, ones who have not forgotten what Duke Seungcheol did for their families, for their command.”

Jeonghan stepped closer, the weight of his unborn child and his fallen household pressing invisibly upon his frame.

“I trust you, brother-in-law,” he murmured. “We will need every officer we can count on.”

But it wasn’t only military strength that Hongjoong offered. Behind his calm façade was a master of subterfuge, discreet connections with palace officials, merchant cartels, and provincial lords who still owed the Prince of Liangzhou household old favors.

Through him, Jeonghan secured not only the potential of covert troops but the silence needed to maneuver.

The storm hadn’t broken yet. But the wind was turning.

Jeonghan had always trusted Minister Kwon Soonyoung, an old friend of Seungcheol and a seasoned official in the Ministry of Justice. For years, Soonyoung had stood as a loud voice against corruption and injustice within the imperial court, never wavering in his loyalty to those he believed righteous.

He welcomed Jeonghan into his private study, where lanternlight cast long shadows across stacks of unsealed scrolls.

“They’ve got Seungcheol wrong, Jeonghan. I know it,” Soonyoung said firmly, gripping his tea cup like a soldier might a sword. “We can’t let them frame him. I have contacts in the Imperial Archives. If they planted false records, I’ll help you uncover them, quietly, precisely.”

Jeonghan's breath caught, the tightness in his chest loosening just slightly.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Not all of us are blind to truth,” Soonyoung replied. “Some of us remember the General’s sacrifices.”

COmmander Dokyeom, Seungcheol’s trusted right hand, had always been a man of action rather than words. Known for his unshakable presence on the battlefield, he had trained under Seungcheol and followed him through countless campaigns. Even though he had yet to speak out publicly, Jeonghan knew where Dokyeom’s loyalties lay.

They met under the guise of a late-night inspection at a granary near the city’s edge.

Dokyeom said, voice gravel-thick but unwavering. “I know the general. And I know you. We’ll see this through together.”

Jeonghan gave a faint smile, something real in a sea of facades.

“We will. For him. For what we still believe in.”

Dokyeom clasped his shoulder once, firm and reassuring. “The northern barracks are watching. Just give the word.”

In the moonlit shadows of the library, Advisor Wonwoo waited like a figure half-draped in myth. An Omega born of scholarly blood but trained in tactics and warcraft, he had once been overlooked in council chambers until Seungcheol made his brilliance impossible to ignore.

Now, Jeonghan trusted him more than almost anyone.

“I’ve studied every pattern of Prince of Dingbei’s troops,” Wonwoo whispered, unfurling a map etched in precise charcoal lines. “They’ve settled into complacency around the outer districts. Their strength is wide, but not deep. We’re faster. Sharper. If we act now, we can bleed their reach without outright battle.”

Jeonghan leaned forward, breath shallow as he read the movements, the gaps in Prince of  Dingbei’s iron grip.

“And the palace? Their spies?”

“My people can route them. Quietly. We strike only where silence answers,” Wonwoo said, eyes narrowing. “Seungcheol hyung taught me how to move unseen. I intend to honor that.”

“Then we move,” Jeonghan murmured. “Tonight.”

With his allies in place, Jeonghan’s plan began to take shape. He gathered the letters, messages, and false documents Prince of Dingbei had been using to frame the General. The evidence was thin, but with Soonyoung’s help, they would gain access to sealed imperial records and expose the forgeries.

On the military side, Dokyeom, with the help of loyal soldiers, began sending subtle messages to key officers who were known to be sympathetic to the General’s cause.

Jeonghan gathered his closest allies to discuss his next steps.

“Tomorrow, we’ll confront the traitors within the army, expose their lies to the Emperor, and demand the General’s release. We’ll show the people the truth.” Jeonghan’s eyes burned with determination. “And for those who refuse to back down, we will use every ounce of influence we have. They will see that the Duke’s power and legacy will not be so easily undone.”

Jeonghan visited Seungcheol’s prison cell under the cover of night, cloaked and flanked only by silence.

The fortress beneath the capital reeked of damp stone and rusted iron. Lanternlight cast dim shadows across the walls, flickering against the bars that separated them.

And there chained and worn, yet unmistakably proud, stood Seungcheol. The man who had once led armies now bore shackles instead of armor, yet in Jeonghan’s eyes, he had never looked more unbreakable.

Their gazes met.

“Jeonghan,” Seungcheol said softly, his voice hoarse from disuse, but steady. “Do not waste your life on this. You’ve done more than enough.”

Jeonghan stepped forward, fingers curling around the bars, knuckles pale. The sight of Seungcheol’s bruised wrists, his sunken cheeks, it pierced deeper than any sword.

“I haven’t done enough,” Jeonghan whispered, tears slipping past the corners of his eyes. “I won't let them take you. Not like this.”

Seungcheol's eyes, usually so unreadable, softened with a tenderness that made Jeonghan’s breath hitch.

“Then fight,” he said. “For both of us.”

Jeonghan closed his eyes for a breath and in that breath, he felt it. The small but growing pulse of life inside him. A secret still cradled close to his heart. A reason he had to return. A reason they both had to survive.

‘You don’t know yet’, Jeonghan thought silently. ‘But I carry your legacy now.’

And when he opened his eyes, resolve burned within them like a rising sun.

“I will,” he vowed. “For you. For us. For the future.”

Far from the prison walls, within the stone confines of his private study, Prince of Dingbei stood hunched over a sprawling map of the empire. Tiny markers marked the shifting allegiances along the empire’s edge, even whispers from the merchant guilds.

He’d sown this discord carefully planted discontent in military camps, bribed idle commanders, poisoned courts with lies. And now it bore fruit.

“The General is out of the way,” he muttered, flicking a finger toward the capital. “And that insufferable Omega is isolated.”

Jeonghan’s rising influence among both nobles and commoners had unsettled more than a few lords, but none more than him. He saw in Jeonghan not only a threat to tradition but a wildfire that could upend dynasties.

“If I don't move now, I lose the throne to an Omega whore and a disgraced general,” he growled.

Behind him, his advisors remained silent. The air in the room was tense, electric.

“I will take what is mine,” Dingbei whispered coldly, eyes glinting. “And the Omega, Jeonghan, will regret ever standing in my way. He will learn what happens to those who try to rewrite fate.”

But what Dingbei didn’t know, what none of them knew, was that Jeonghan wasn’t just fighting for love, or survival, or power.

He was fighting for something far more dangerous. Hope.

The capital, once a gleaming beacon of wealth and imperial stability, now suffocated under the weight of rebellion and despair.

The gates stood open not to receive foreign dignitaries or silk-laden traders, but to allow through a relentless stream of refugees, their faces gaunt, hollow, and broken by loss. They came from the outer regions Liangzhou, Qinghe, Chungcheong, and other devastated provinces where fire and blood marked Dingbei’s rebellion.

What had once been polished roads and serene gardens now echoed with weeping and the shuffle of feet worn raw by weeks of flight.

Children, eyes wide and sunken with hunger, clung to their mothers’ hems. Elderly villagers, hunched with exhaustion, staggered forward, leaning on staffs or younger kin. The stench of desperation clung to their ragged cloaks like rot.

“We’ve lost everything,” one woman sobbed to a city guard, her voice hoarse from days of crying. She held her child close beneath a threadbare cloak. “My husband… my brothers… they were all killed. Please just some bread. Anything.”

The guard barely looked at her.

“Go to the camps outside the eastern wall,” he muttered. “There’s no room here.”

With each passing day, the crowds thickened. The markets, once filled with spices, silks, and foreign luxuries, now traded in scraps. Wilted vegetables. Bruised fruit. Pieces of stale bread sold for silver. The few remaining inns and shelters turned people away with locked gates and hired thugs. The rich hoarded, the rest starved.

Beggars, once a rare sight, now filled every alley, every temple step, every abandoned courtyard—voices blending into a choked symphony of pleading. The capital was unraveling.

With tens of thousands displaced and scattered through the inner wards and refugee camps, the empire’s once-glorious heart began to rot from within. The granaries formerly stocked for wartime were now empty. Whatever supplies remained were hidden away by aristocrats or auctioned off to the highest bidder. Mouldy rice. Spoiled pork. Bricks of flour crawling with weevils were left for the common people.

And then came the sickness.

Fever broke out first in the refugee quarters, spreading like wildfire. The wells were fouled, the latrines overflowing. Without medicine, without healers, the people turned to prayers. But even the noble wards were not spared. Illness seeped into marble halls like smoke, carried by servants, by market air, by the invisible hand of fate. The illusion of control vanished.

Jeonghan, cloaked in plain garments and shadowed by loyal guards, walked among the wreckage of the city.

He saw a child barefoot, shaking digging through a pile of trash. He saw a woman holding the corpse of her infant, her lips silently mouthing lullabies through tears.

His heart clenched.

And beneath his palm, resting on the curve of his abdomen, he felt the faintest warmth.

This is what Seungcheol fought to protect, Jeonghan thought, his throat burning. And this is what Prince of  Dingbei has reduced us to.

He knelt beside a shivering girl and handed her his cloak. But as he stood again, a cold fury ignited within him.

‘This rebellion has drowned our Empire in rot. And I will burn every lie, every traitor, every cowardly minister who fed it.’

There was no more room for waiting. The Empire was collapsing around him, and he had no choice but to rise from its ashes with or without the court’s blessing.

Jeonghan had done everything in his power to mobilize the resources of his allies, including his maternal cousin Seonghwa and the Commandery Prince Hongjoong. Despite their combined efforts, supplies from their networks remained limited, and the nobles and court officials seemed indifferent to the mounting crisis. As head of his own family, Jeonghan had made provisions to offer food and shelter to the refugees, but it was never enough. His mind spun in endless circles, desperate to find a solution that could reach all those suffering.

“Why is this happening?” Jeonghan muttered to himself, standing beside a merchant stall littered with scraps of discarded vegetables once reserved for the noble houses. His fingers clenched tightly around a bundle of dried herbs. “Why is the court doing nothing? They’re too busy fighting for power while the Empire burns.”

Jeonghan’s gaze snapped sharply to the people around him. Mothers clutching trembling children. Soldiers, hollow-eyed, with no will left to fight. Elders who had lost everything to the chaos that spread like wildfire.

His heart tightened painfully.

‘Was this why I was given this second chance? To watch this Empire fall apart? To watch my people starve again?’

His fists clenched, his chest heaving with the fierce weight of his anger. He refused to stand by and watch this destruction unfold once more.

That night, as Jeonghan made his way back to his estate, the air was thick with the smell of burning wood and decay. His mind raced through strategies, how to fight the rebellion, how to wield his influence and resources to heal the city’s wounds.

Passing a collapsed building, he saw an old woman sitting on the stone steps, her hands trembling with age. She reached out, grasping the sleeve of his coat.

“Prince… the Duke will return, won’t he?” Her voice was a fragile whisper, a desperate plea carried on hope alone.

Jeonghan stopped and looked down at her. She had no food, no shelter, but her eyes held a flicker of something precious, hope. The very hope that had kept Seungcheol strong through all these years.

“Yes,” Jeonghan answered softly, voice steady but filled with conviction. “He will.”

As the days bled into weeks, Jeonghan’s resolve hardened. He would do whatever it took to save his people, to stop Prince of Dingbei from bringing the Empire to its knees.

But even as Jeonghan and his allies scrambled to organize the city’s defenses and distribute what little aid they could, the rebellion had already begun to spread its reach. News of Prince of Dingbei’s victory in the northern districts reached the capital, the soldiers who had once been loyal to the General were now defecting to Dingbei’s banner. The streets, once peaceful, now buzzed with whispers of an impending coup.

The forces loyal to the Emperor were scattered, divided by fear, ambition, and uncertainty. And the war had only just begun.

The capital was simmering with tension. Rumors of Prince of Dingbei’s rebellion spread like wildfire, and the court’s political machinations grew increasingly deadly. Jeonghan knew time was running out; Seungcheol was imprisoned, framed for treason, and any attempt to rescue him was being suffocated by the iron grip of the Emperor’s court and Dingbei's growing influence.

Jeonghan stood before a large, polished mirror in his chamber. His reflection was a picture of calm control, but beneath the surface, his heart burned with urgency. He had calculated every move with precision, and now, everything hinged on this one final plan.

His fingers brushed the edge of his embroidered sleeve before turning toward a sealed letter on his desk an invitation, discreetly delivered, requesting a secret audience with the Empress Dowager.

“She is the only one who can sway this,” he murmured.

Prince of Dingbei’s rebellion wasn’t just a threat to the throne, it was a threat to everything Jeonghan had built. He had tried diplomacy, called in every favor, leveraged every bond but this... this was the last card he could play.

The palace halls were cloaked in silence as Jeonghan slipped through them, his steps muffled by velvet rugs and candlelight. He had come earlier than summoned, taking a hidden passage known only to a trusted few.

At last, he arrived at the secluded receiving chamber. The guards at the entrance gave him a nod, not one of deference, but of understanding. What would be discussed behind those doors could shift the very spine of the Empire.

Inside, lanterns flickered low. The Empress Dowager, tall and regal in deep mourning robes, stood with her back to him. Her silhouette was sharp against the screen painted with cranes in flight. Though her expression was unreadable, her posture carried the weight of unspoken remorse.

“You’ve come,” she said softly, without turning. “I did not think I would see the day when you would call upon me, Jeonghan.”

He bowed low. “Your Majesty. I come for only one reason, my Alpha is innocent. The true enemy is Prince of Dingbei, and his ambition grows unchecked.”

The Dowager turned to face him, her expression taut. “I let him grow too powerful. I should have curbed him sooner but I was so proud, so convinced I could hold the court together with decorum and tradition.” Her voice cracked faintly. “Now… it all rots beneath me.”

Jeonghan’s gaze didn’t waver. “You still have the power to change its course.”

For a moment, she looked older than ever before. Then something shifted behind her eyes, a glimpse of steel beneath the sorrow.

“Then speak,” she said. “Tell me how we stop him.”

Jeonghan stepped closer, his voice steady with a kind of fury that only love and grief could create.

“We cannot win in the open. Prince of Dingbei’s eyes are everywhere. We must let him believe he has succeeded, that Seungcheol is dead, and that I’ve been broken. Only then will he lower his guard.”

The Empress Dowager studied him, lips pressed thin in thought. “And what of the child?” she asked, her voice suddenly hushed.

Jeonghan blinked once, sharply but didn’t flinch. “He will never know. Not until it’s safe.”

Silence fell. Then, slowly, her shoulders sank with the weight of the truth. “So… this is the cost,” she whispered. “To hide the truth, to fake the death of the man you love. To protect a child who may never know his father until this war ends.”

Jeonghan’s fingers curled into his sleeve.

“I would trade everything to see Seungcheol free. Even if I must bear this war alone. Even if he never knows the sacrifice.”

The Dowager looked at him for a long, haunted moment. Then she gave the faintest nod.

“So be it. We will mourn his death with all the pomp of the Empire. Let Prince of Dingbei believe he’s won. And when the time is right…”

“We strike. And we end this rebellion for good.”

“I see. You’ve thought this through.”

Jeonghan gave her a faint, assured smile. “It is the only way.”

The Empress Dowager’s lips pressed into a thin line as she crossed her arms. She had been too passive for too long, but with Jeonghan’s proposal, there was a glimmer of hope, a way to save the Duke, save the Empire, and perhaps, even save her own legacy.

“Very well,” she said, her voice now filled with renewed strength. “We will fabricate the death of the General, but I will need to move quickly. You will create the rumor, I will ensure the Emperor does not interfere, and the court will buy it. The General will be assumed dead. Once Prince of Dingbei’s forces fall into complacency, we strike.”

The plan unfolded swiftly. Jeonghan knew the court well enough to plant the rumor. It would be the perfect storm, Seungcheol’s body would be presented carefully prepared with a fake death certificate forged by trusted officials. A witness would testify to his “last words.” Jeonghan himself would feign mourning, appearing deeply sorrowful over the loss of his beloved husband.

In the days that followed, rumors of the General’s death spread like wildfire across the court. Dingbei’s men, who had already begun consolidating power in secret, would be led to believe they had won.

Jeonghan did everything in his power to keep up the façade. His grief, though genuine for the loss of his beloved General, was exaggerated for the sake of deception. His public appearances were solemn, his words measured, each one carefully crafted to fool those who watched him, especially Dingbei’s spies.

But behind closed doors, Jeonghan, the Dowager, and their most trusted allies prepared for the storm. Secret meetings were held in the shadows, final adjustments were made to the trap, and Jeonghan’s allies in the military readied their forces.

The bait had been set. All they had to do now was wait.

Days passed, and the political landscape of the Empire shifted.

With Seungcheol now publicly mourned as "dead," Prince Dingbei grew bold. His forces moved swiftly to take control of key areas within the capital. Ministers once cautious now bowed low, and those loyal to the Emperor were forced into silence or submission.

With each passing day, Dingbei’s arrogance deepened. His eyes were fixed on the throne, and he believed his greatest threats, Seungcheol and Jeonghan had been silenced or subdued.

He had no idea the trap had already been laid.

From behind the walls of Seungcheol’s estate, now deliberately quiet and dark, Jeonghan watched the city burn beneath the weight of fear and deception. His hands once soft with artistry now inked battle plans and forged coded letters beneath the dim candlelight.

“Let him think he’s won,” Jeonghan whispered as he studied the faint glimmer of rebellion flickering across the city. “Let him march into the palace with a crown of stolen power. We’ll meet him there with truth sharpened into a blade.”

The Emperor had retreated into isolation, his voice silenced by age, illness, or fear, no one knew which. The Empress Dowager, shaken by guilt yet armed with political insight, had become Jeonghan’s reluctant but necessary ally.

Whispers of Seungcheol’s innocence were now creeping into noble salons and merchant halls, passed in hushed tones by those who had once called him traitor.

Still, the capital teetered on the brink.

Jeonghan’s allies, Seonghwa, Hongjoong, Soonyoung, Dokyeom, and Wonwoo worked in secret, fanning the sparks of resistance. Food shipments were redirected from Prince of  Dingbei’s camps. Secret documents flowed between districts. Loyal soldiers positioned themselves, waiting for the signal.

That evening, Jeonghan stood in the garden pavilion of the estate, the wind tugging at his robes. The scent of old pine and smoke from distant fires clung to the air.

He pressed a hand gently to his abdomen.

Four and a half months.

The weight of new life inside him anchored him through everything, the lies, the grief, the war yet to come. His fingers curled around the silk sash at his waist, grounding himself in the silence.

“You’ll meet him,” he whispered softly, barely audible. “No matter what it takes, you’ll meet your appa. I’ll bring him back to you.”

Behind him, the lanterns flickered.

He did not weep. Not tonight.

Instead, he turned back toward the study, toward maps, encoded letters, and the final steps of a revolution.

Jeonghan had just settled into his private study, surrounded by documents, when a cold gust of wind blew through the room. He looked up, instinctively tensing. Before he could react, the door burst open, and several armed men rushed in. Their faces were covered, their swords drawn with the sharpness of betrayal.

His personal guards, Minghao and Junhui ever loyal, moved to defend him, but the assailants overwhelmed them, restraining Jeonghan before he could even make a sound. The rebellion’s forces had struck, and they had come for him.

Prince of Dingbei’s voice, cold and laced with malice, echoed from the shadows beyond the door. “Jeonghan, you’ve been playing at games far above your station. It’s time you learned the consequences.”

Jeonghan’s heart pounded as he was dragged from the study, his mind working frantically. His first instinct was to call for help, but he knew there was no one within reach. His personal attendant, Seungkwan was nowhere to be found, and his guards though fierce had been outnumbered and overpowered.

He was dragged from the estate like a criminal, bundled into a black-lacquered carriage without insignia. The streets were quiet, moonlight painting the cobblestones silver. Hooves struck the road like a war drum.

Inside, Jeonghan said nothing. He sat perfectly still, bound but unbowed. Every jolt of the road rattled through his spine, but he refused to flinch.

His thoughts were not on fear, they were on Seungcheol, on the child growing within him, on the fragile web of rebellion now in motion. They had sacrificed so much to get to this point. It could not unravel here. He was shoved into a carriage, the sound of horses galloping harshly against the silence of the night. The journey to Dingbei’s residence was long, and every bump in the road felt like an eternity. He fought against the bonds that held his hands behind his back, but there was little to be done. He could only wait and hope for the opportunity to escape.

By the time they arrived at Dingbei’s mansion, the moon was high in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the grand, yet ominous, structure. The doors were flung open, and Jeonghan was unceremoniously shoved inside. His heart raced as he was led to a small, dimly lit chamber, the windows barred and the door locked with a heavy iron bolt.

Prince of Dingbei stood in the doorway, his presence imposing, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "You’ve been a thorn in my side for far too long, Jeonghan. It’s time for you to face the consequences of your actions."

Jeonghan was shoved into a narrow chamber, its windows barred, the air damp and metallic. A single lantern cast long shadows along the stone floor.

“So noble. So delicate. And yet here you are, in chains” he said with a sneer.
“Tell me, do you still think your cause is righteous? Do you still think Seungcheol will rise from the dead and save you?”

Jeonghan glared at him, his voice cold but steady. "You won’t win, Dingbei. Even if you lock me away, even if you try to humiliate me, there are those who will stop you."

Dingbei’s expression twisted.

“Keep dreaming. Perhaps it will comfort you when the cell grows colder.”
“You Omegas were born to kneel. I’ll see to it you learn how.”

The words stung, not because of their content, but because of the disdain in Dingbei’s voice. He was attempting to break Jeonghan’s spirit. But he was stronger than that. He had survived much worse in his past life. And now, he had something to protect, a future with the General, a vision of peace for the Omegas in the Empire. No matter what Prince of Dingbei did, he would not bend.

As Dingbei turned and walked away, Jeonghan knew he had no time to lose. His enemies believed him weak, but they did not know what he was capable of. His mind raced as he began planning his escape.

Far from the cold prison cell, Seungkwan was already putting a plan into motion. Though he had been left behind in the chaos of the abduction, he was not the type to give up easily. He contacted Jeonghan’s maternal cousin,Seonghwa, whose influence within the capital’s court was well known.

Seonghwa’s husband The Commandery Prince, though distant from Jeonghan in terms of blood relations, had always treated him like family. He quickly understood the gravity of the situation, and he wasn’t about to allow Jeonghan to fall into Dingbei’s hands. In fact, Hongjoong, was the one who had long kept tabs on Dingbei's movements, knowing full well the threat the rebellious prince posed to the Empire.

Seungkwan, with the help of Junhui and Minghao, reached out to the Commandery Prince's residence late that night. Within hours, the Commandery Prince had sent word to his most trusted allies, including several members of the military and court officials loyal to Jeonghan’s cause.

A trusted spy, one of his old servants who had been planted in Dingbei’s household years ago was able to pass along valuable information. Jeonghan was being held in the farthest wing of the mansion, with only minimal guards watching him. His presence had not yet been fully discovered by the wider court.

The plan was simple but risky  Hongjoong would create a distraction at the capital while Jeonghan’s allies snuck into Dingbei’s home under cover of darkness.

As night fell, Jeonghan’s hope flared briefly, a spark of light in the vast darkness. The Prince’s distraction, a fire in one of the lesser courtyards of the capital was enough to draw the attention of Dingbei’s forces. They were focused on putting out the flames and securing their own power, leaving Jeonghan vulnerable.

His moment had come.

With careful precision, Jeonghan’s allies infiltrated the mansion, moving like shadows in the night. They reached the cell where Jeonghan was imprisoned, and with a practiced motion, they unlocked the door.

Jeonghan’s breath caught in his throat as the door creaked open. He looked up, seeing Seungkwan standing there, a flicker of hope rose in his eyes.

“Hyung,” Seungkwan whispered. “Prince Hongjoong has sent word. It’s time to leave.”

Jeonghan nodded, rising to his feet, his heart pounding with both fear and anticipation. They had no time to lose. Without a word, he followed Seungkwan through the darkened hallways, moving swiftly and silently.

As they neared the rear gate of Dingbei’s estate, the sound of hurried footsteps came from behind. The guards had begun to stir, aware of the escape. They quickened their pace, narrowly evading capture.

When they reached the safety of the woods beyond Dingbei’s home, Jeonghan finally allowed himself a moment to breathe. The plan had worked, and he was free,at least for now.

But as Jeonghan looked out into the distance, his thoughts turned to the looming danger. Dingbei would not rest, and the rebellion would continue to grow unless they stopped it. But for now, Jeonghan had a chance to regroup, to gather his allies and protect his alpha.

The prison where Seungcheol had been confined was a tomb of silence damp walls, rotting air, and chains that bit into flesh but not into spirit. Each day had dragged like a dull blade across his skin, but his mind remained sharp, tethered to a single thought, Jeonghan.

He hadn’t broken. Not when they paraded false charges. Not when they starved him. Because Seungcheol knew the man he loved and he knew the truth behind the rumors of his own death was part of a far more dangerous game.

And now, with Dingbei overconfident and the palace trembling under the weight of war, Seungcheol struck.

With brutal efficiency, he overpowered his guard, dismantled the cell lock using a rusted pin he’d hidden for weeks, and navigated the hidden corridors of Dingbei’s estate hallways he had studied and memorized years before.

By the time he reached the back gate, the city was asleep under a shroud of clouds. And Seungcheol vanished into the streets like a ghost reborn.

He had only one destination in mind, home. Jeonghan.

Jeonghan stood alone in the courtyard of Choi mansion, the cold wind tugging at the edges of his robe. The house behind him was still hollow with absence, filled with echoes of a man the world believed dead.

He had orchestrated the lie himself. He had helped craft the illusion of Seungcheol’s death, knowing it was the only way to bait Dingbei into overreaching.

But knowing didn’t make the silence easier to bear. It didn’t make the nights shorter, or the ache in his chest any lighter.

Then he felt it.

Not a sound. Not a footstep. But something in the air shifted.

He turned. And there, emerging from the shadows like the answer to every silent prayer, stood Seungcheol.

Jeonghan’s breath caught in his throat. His fingers twitched at his sides. “You made it,” he said, his voice low but steady. There was no surprise in his tone only something deeper, relief, rage, longing.

Seungcheol stepped forward, his face weary but his eyes unflinching. “I told you I would.”

In two strides, Jeonghan crossed the courtyard. He threw his arms around him not with desperation, but with the weight of weeks of fear, guilt, and hope. They held each other like men who had fought through hell just to feel this again.

After a moment, Jeonghan pulled back, eyes narrowing. “You’re late.”

Seungcheol managed the ghost of a smile. “I had to walk.”

“You look like death.”

“And you look like you haven’t slept since I left.”

Jeonghan’s lips trembled, and this time, his voice cracked. “I hate you for making me do this alone.”

“I know.”

“But I would do it again,” Jeonghan whispered. “If it meant getting you back.”

Seungcheol reached up, brushing his thumb over Jeonghan’s cheek. “You never did it alone. I was with you. Every breath.”

They stood there, two blades honed by suffering, tempered by love.

There would be war in the morning. But tonight, tonight was theirs.

The air between them was thick charged with grief, rage, and the unbearable gravity of everything left unsaid. Jeonghan’s chest heaved as he stood close to Seungcheol, the scent of sweat, blood, and dust clinging to them both like the memory of war.

He had waited for this. Had imagined it in every nightmare and waking breath. But now that Seungcheol was truly here, alive and standing before him, Jeonghan could barely breathe.

There was too much pain inside him.

“I missed you,” Jeonghan whispered. The words came low, tight, as if torn from a throat long clenched by silence. His eyes burned, not from tears but from the weight of remembering. The nights spent alone. The lies told to protect. The coffin that never held a body.

Seungcheol opened his mouth, but Jeonghan didn’t let him speak. His body moved on instinct, fast, fierce. He grabbed Seungcheol’s arm, lifted the bloodstained sleeve, and bit down hard into the muscle of his forearm.

The taste of iron bloomed against his tongue.

Seungcheol gasped. His entire body stilled, but his arms never loosened their hold around Jeonghan. Instead, they pulled him tighter, absorbing the violence like a confession.

“I deserve that,” Seungcheol said softly, voice thick with guilt. “More than that.”

Jeonghan drew back slowly, lips red, breath uneven. His fingers trembled against Seungcheol’s chest.

“You do,” he muttered, the words curling around a shaking breath. “You do, and still,”

His voice cracked. His eyes lifted.

“I still love you,” Jeonghan admitted, the truth falling from his lips like a curse. “I hate it. I hate how much I still love you.”

Seungcheol didn’t look away. Didn’t speak. He only raised one hand, rough and calloused from war and brushed a tear from Jeonghan’s cheek with heartbreaking gentleness.

“I’ve always loved you,” he said. “Even when I was locked away. Even when I thought I wouldn’t make it back to you.”

Jeonghan’s fury splintered. The pain didn’t leave, but it shifted folding inward, collapsing under the weight of longing.

And then he kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet.

It was raw. Desperate. A punishment and a plea.

He tasted Seungcheol’s blood on his tongue, tasted the weeks of silence between them, the ache of empty nights and unanswered prayers. Their mouths moved together with fury and hunger, both seeking and surrendering.

When they finally pulled apart, gasping, their foreheads met, their breaths ragged.

They stood in the silence of the courtyard, surrounded by shadows and moonlight, hearts pounding like war drums beneath their ribs.

This wasn’t peace.This wasn’t forgiveness. But it was real.

And it was enough for now.

Seungcheol cupped Jeonghan’s face, his thumb brushing gently over soft lips, grounding them both in the fragile stillness between heartbeats. “We’re together now,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “And I won’t let anything tear us apart. Not again.”

Jeonghan closed his eyes, leaning into his touch. There were no words, only the warmth of Seungcheol’s hand and the aching relief that came with his return. All the fear, the fury, the waiting, all melted into something gentler. Something that felt like home.

In the hush of the courtyard, with lantern light flickering against stone and silence stretching like a prayer, time held its breath. Their hearts beat in quiet tandem. Between them lay the storm they had survived and the hope that they could survive what came next. Their love had endured war, deception, death, and time itself. The future remained uncertain, but in that moment, Jeonghan knew with terrifying clarity. They would face it together.

In the days that followed their reunion, as unrest continued to fester in the capital and whispers of Prince Dingbei’s next strike grew louder, Jeonghan and Seungcheol found stolen moments of quiet. These evenings, brief and precious, became their sanctuary soft edges carved into the jagged days of politics and war.

One such evening, after Seungcheol had spent hours in heated council meetings with wavering generals and distrustful ministers, he returned to their room, exhausted but needing only one thing.

He found Jeonghan in the study.

Slumped over a desk strewn with documents and inkbrushes, Jeonghan was so immersed in his reading that he didn’t hear the door open. His brow was creased, his fingers stained with ink, but the faint slump of his shoulders and the careful way one hand rested protectively over the swell of his abdomen betrayed the truth of his condition.

He was seven and a half months pregnant, and though he moved with purpose, the weight of it was catching up to him.

Seungcheol leaned against the doorway, watching silently. His gaze lingered on the curve of Jeonghan’s belly, the subtle rise and fall beneath the layered silk robes. A thousand emotions swelled inside him awe, worry, love.

“You’ve been working all day,” he said finally, voice low and filled with quiet concern.

Jeonghan looked up, startled. A smile tugged at his lips, though his exhaustion was visible in the soft puffiness beneath his eyes. “I’m trying to anticipate Dingbei’s next move. We need to be three steps ahead.”

“I know,” Seungcheol murmured, crossing the room. He knelt beside him, his hands instinctively settling over Jeonghan’s. “But let me take care of you, for once. You’ve done more than enough.”

Jeonghan hesitated. “There’s no time to rest. If I stop now, if we fall behind…”

“You’re carrying our future, Jeonghan,” Seungcheol whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. “You’re allowed to stop.”

Jeonghan’s lips parted, but the words caught in his throat. The burden he carried wasn’t just physical, it was everything, the rebellion, the court, the child, their hope. All of it bore down on him like a storm.

Seungcheol leaned closer, resting his forehead against Jeonghan’s temple. “We carry this together now. You’re not alone anymore.”

Their eyes met. Just two souls clinging to each other in the middle of a collapsing world.

Then Seungcheol kissed him softly.

Jeonghan exhaled against his lips, his fingers curling into Seungcheol’s robes. “You don’t know how much I missed you,” he whispered. “And how terrified I am, of losing all of this, you, our child.”

Seungcheol placed a hand over Jeonghan’s stomach, feeling the faintest nudge of life beneath. His expression softened into something almost fragile. “I do know. Because I feel it too. But no matter what happens, I will protect you. Both of you.”

And for the first time in weeks, Jeonghan let himself believe it. He leaned into Seungcheol’s chest, letting the warmth of his arms eclipse the coldness of everything else. The world could fall apart outside these walls, but here, in Seungcheol’s embrace, and with their child between them, he could finally breathe.

While Jeonghan and Seungcheol crafted their final plan in quiet, seething shadows, Dingbei’s rebellion reached a terrifying new scale.

On the dark night, news arrived, Prince of Dingbei had captured the Emperor and Empress Dowager, imprisoning them in his own mansion in a grotesque assertion of power. The royal family was reduced to pawns in his ruthless game.

The capital’s streets brimmed with rumors of cruelty. Dingbei’s forces moved inexorably, seizing control of the government. His supporters, emboldened, believed the General dead and Jeonghan neutralized. A broken Empire tilted toward a single ruthless figure.

Prince of Dingbei’s ambition was clear, he would not settle for simply dismantling the throne, he intended to seize it for himself.

On a freezing dawn, the Empire collapsed beneath a false dawn of triumph. Noble families and military leaders were summoned, some out of fear, others from hope that submission would spare them. A silent crowd watched as Prince of Dingbei ascended a raised dais, “You all will bear witness to history,” his voice echoed through the courtyard. “This empire will finally rise under my rule. I, Huangjin, will be the King who restores order.”

But his words rang hollow, like a puppet claiming destiny.

Forced to kneel at his feet, the Empress Dowager, pale but resolute, embodied the empire’s shamed dignity. The Emperor, bound and broken, looked out, his brilliance dimmed by humiliation.

Watching from a hidden vantage outside the palace, Jeonghan felt a cold fire ignite. The sight, the indignity, the hopelessness solidified the final push of their plan.

Inside their war preparation room, candlelight flickered across maps and banners. Allies gathered in tense silence around Jeonghan and Seungcheol. This was the moment either their triumph or their undoing.

Seungcheol’s voice rang clear. “We strike at dawn. We break his forces, storm the palace, and free the Emperor and Dowager.”

Jeonghan’s eyes hardened with resolve. “We must move cleanly. He has grown arrogant, he doesn’t expect us. We’ll use his overconfidence as our blade.”

Their allies nodded, each placing faith in the code they’d forged together.

Jeonghan reached for Seungcheol’s hand, squeezing it with an anchor of hope and fear. “This ends today. For the Empire, and for us.”

Seungcheol’s grip tightened. “For us.”

Night had fallen, and the cold air of the capital seemed to press tighter around them, wrapping the city in a suffocating grip of fear and uncertainty. Jeonghan, with the imperial family in tow, was fleeing through the narrow underground tunnels beneath the palace, their destination unclear, only one thing mattered now, survival.

The Emperor and Empress Dowager were bundled in heavy cloaks, surrounded by a small company of loyal guards. Jeonghan led them with urgency, his every breath sharp with worry. Behind them, Huangjin’s forces pressed ever closer, like wolves scenting blood. Their pursuit was relentless.

Suddenly, a voice rang out in the distance.

“Stop them!”

The chase had begun.

The loyalists raised their swords, forming a living shield around the Emperor. But Jeonghan knew, they couldn't hold forever. The rebellion was vast, and their numbers too many. Every step through the twisting, torch-lit corridor felt heavier.

Then, as the thunder of boots closed in behind them, a familiar voice pierced the night.

“Get them out of here! I’ll hold them off!”

Jeonghan froze.

There, standing at the mouth of the passageway with his sword drawn and eyes blazing, stood Prince Hyungwon, once Jeonghan’s dearest friend and greatest regret. His figure was silhouetted in the dim light, proud and immovable.

“No!” Jeonghan’s voice cracked as he lunged forward. “You can’t—!”

Hyungwon looked back. For a fleeting moment, sorrow flickered across his face, love, unspoken and too late, laid bare in his gaze.

“I made my choice long ago,” Hyungwon said, his voice strong and steady. “I knew the path we walked would pull us apart. But this, this is how I can stand by you now. If you want to save them, if you want the future you believe in, then go.”

Jeonghan’s heart clenched. How had he not seen this? Not truly understood how deeply Hyungwon had loved him?

“Hyungwon, please…”

The prince’s lips curved in a bittersweet smile. “I know my place now. Go.”

He turned back toward the advancing rebels, sword gleaming, his body poised in a final act of defiance.

“Take them to safety. And don’t look back.”

And then he was gone, his silhouette vanishing into the darkness, swallowed by the chaos of battle. Steel clashed. Shouts rang out. The tunnel behind them trembled with the weight of sacrifice.

Jeonghan didn’t speak. A single tear slid down his cheek as he turned away.

He led the Emperor and Empress Dowager forward, deeper into the tunnels, away from the blood, away from Hyungwon. But no matter how far he ran, that image stayed with him.

Hyungwon had loved him in silence. And now, in silence, he had said goodbye.

Despite his rescue, the Emperor remained caged, not by stone, but by uncertainty.

Jeonghan paced within the safe house assigned to the imperial family, eyes flicking to every shadow with restless urgency.

“We must act now,” he whispered to himself.

The Emperor sat across the room, shoulders drooped in defeat, words hesitant.

“I... failed. My complacency allowed this rebellion to grow.”

Jeonghan’s frustration cracked through.

“Your Majesty, this isn’t your fault, it’s mine. I should have moved sooner. I should have seen.”

The Emperor lifted his head, a fragile spark returning to his eyes. “You have given us hope when none remained. Never doubt that.”

As the dawn approached Prince of Dingbei, prepared himself to crown himself as the Emperor.

A circle of officials loyal to their own ambition gathered in secret. Their allegiance with each other stemmed from their own ambition. The plan, was to lend one final strike against the imperial family, one final deception and to help the Prince.

“The Duke has not won,” murmured Choi Jungil. His voice was cold, calculated. “He may wear the sword, but the true power lies in shaping public will.”

Behind him, a hooded figure, Eunseo asked, in a low and discreet voice, “What do we do, then?”

“We lend Prince of Dingbei with our powers,” Grand Tutor replied with a smirk. “Let us win our victory and ruin the duke and his beloved Omega.

Jungil said with a crooked smile, “Well, let us prepare then shall we.”

In the imperial palace, the atmosphere was tense, crackling with a deep, suppressed energy. The courtiers had gathered in the great hall for what was supposed to be a routine council meeting. However, today, the hall felt more like a battlefield than a place of governance.

Prince of Dingbei, having fortified his position with support from his loyalists, had entered the hall with all the swagger of a man who thought he could still command the throne. His eyes flickered with a dangerous glint as he strode towards the center, his voice boisterous, like a wolf proclaiming dominion over the herd.

“So,” Prince of Dingbei's voice rang out, loud and demanding, “the General returns, with his precious Omega in tow. Tell me, General, what gives you the right to speak in this court anymore? You’ve been outplayed at every turn, and now your precious Emperor is a prisoner. I am the rightful ruler here. I hold the power now.”

The courtiers shuffled, their eyes nervously darting between both Alphas, unsure of how to react. The tension was palpable.

Seungcheol stood unmoving, his gaze like iron. His expression was calm, but his eyes burned with the ferocity of a man who would not be cowed.

“Dingbei,” he said, his voice low and steady, “you speak as if the throne was ever yours to begin with. The truth is... you have no authority here. You never did.”

Dingbei laughed, a hollow, mocking sound. “Is that so, General? Then what do you call this?” He gestured toward the room full of nobles, some with expressions of nervousness, others with thinly veiled disdain. “I have the power. I have the loyalty of the army. And your Emperor? He’s been taken, imprisoned, without a chance to make a sound.”

“Are you sure? Did you check if they are truly imprisoned?” Seungcheol said with a smirk. “Your power is nothing but a façade,” the General said. “Your rebellion is nothing but a tantrum from a child who never knew what it truly meant to lead.”

Dingbei’s smile faltered, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean? You jest Duke. A tantrum? I am taking what is mine. I’m putting an end to a system that has failed.”

Seungcheol remained stoic, unfazed by the jabs. Then, he reached into his robes, his fingers curling around the folded parchment hidden inside. The room fell silent, the air thick with anticipation.

With a slow, deliberate movement, he unfurled the paper and held it up for all to see.

Dingbei's smirk vanished the moment the seal of the Emperor was revealed.

“An imperial decree?” Dingbei sneered, trying to mask his surprise with arrogance. “What does this mean? Is this some sort of last-ditch effort to stop me?”

The General’s voice dropped to a chillingly quiet tone. “It’s not just any decree.” He held the scroll aloft, every eye in the room on him. “This is the Emperor’s official declaration. It was signed the moment he was captured. You, Dingbei, are a rebel. The Emperor declared that you are to be arrested and beheaded for treason. Your entire rebellion is nothing but a failed coup. You are nothing more than a traitor.”

The court gasped. Even those who had once been loyal to Dingbei, those who had silently supported him, felt the ground shift beneath their feet.

Dingbei’s face turned an unhealthy shade of red, and for a moment, he looked like a man who had been stripped of everything. But his fury was quick to return.

“Lies!” Dingbei’s voice cracked with rage. “You think the Emperor’s word means anything now? I’ve already won. You are nothing but a pawn in this game!”

Seungcheol’s eyes were unyielding as he stepped closer, the weight of authority in his every word.

“Your rebellion was never about power,” the Duke said, his voice like a quiet storm. “It was about fear. And now, your fear has finally caught up with you.”

Dingbei’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, he considered retreating, but he quickly regained his composure. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, eyes flickering with deadly intent.

“Do you think the Emperor’s decree will save you, General?” Dingbei sneered. “Your power is fleeting.”

Seungcheol was unwavering, his eyes locked with Dingbei’s, as though reading the man like an open book. “I’ve already won. You just don’t know it yet.”

And with that, he turned to the courtiers.

“Everyone in this room knows who is truly in control. I am not the one who needs to explain myself. You, Dingbei, have already lost. And soon, the entire empire will know it.”

Dingbei’s rebellion was crumbling. His ambitions, once so vast and unstoppable, were now slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. The General, with the Emperor’s decree in hand, had done what no one else could, he had exposed the truth.

The clash of swords echoed across the palace grounds, metal ringing against metal, the tang of blood and choking smoke thick in the air. Seungcheol stood at the heart of the chaos, battered armor splattered in red, sword an extension of his iron resolve. His eyes burned with fierce determination, not only for the Empire, but for the future he’d vowed to protect with Jeonghan.

Opposite him, Huangjing loomed like a living shadow of menace, robes fluttering, ambition burning in every glance. The palace had become the arena for the final fight for the throne.

“I never thought I’d see the day when someone like you would stand in my way,” Huangjing sneered, voice cold with contempt.
“This ends now. And I will wear the crown.”

Seungcheol’s cold smile held no warmth as he lifted his blade.

“You’re wrong,” he answered quietly. “The Empire belongs not to traitors, but to the people.”

With a furious roar, he lunged. Steel clashed. Sparks flew. Seungcheol’s experience and strategy guided his deflections, while Huangjing’s fury drove his reckless assaults.

Their duel eclipsed the battleground, each calculated move a dance between fate and ruin. Seungcheol’s voice cut through the melee.

“You cannot win, Huangjing. The people will rise. The Imperial Family will survive. You are finished.”

Huangjing hesitated, for a heartbeat then attacked with renewed intensity.

But that was his downfall.

Seungcheol sidestepped, striking true. Blood stained his blade as it pierced Huangjing’s side. His sword clattered to the ground. Silence erupted amid the chaos.

Not far from the battlefield, Jeonghan now eight and a half months pregnant, pushed through the sealed corridors with the Emperor and Empress Dowager, aided by Seungkwan, Minghao, Junhui, Jihoon, and loyal guards. He had stayed far behind the front lines, emerging from the shadows only when it was safe.

The pressure of battle had triggered early labor.

Every footstep sent sharp pain through his abdomen. His breaths came in ragged pulses as Jihoon, ever watchful, supported him. Seungkwan wrapped a cloak gently around Jeonghan’s shoulders.

“Jeonghan... steady,” Jihoon urged, his voice calm but urgent. “We’ll get you through this.”

Minghao and Junhui formed a protective ring around them, weapons drawn. Despite the distant thunder of swords and cries of war, they steadied Jeonghan.

“Eight and a half months,” Jihoon murmured. “The baby’s strong. Stay with us.”

Jeonghan gripped the cloak, knuckles white.

“I... I’m okay,” he managed between breaths, though each contraction tightened the knot in his chest.

Seungkwan’s voice was breathless but determined.

“You carry something worth fighting for. Rest now. We’ll take care of the rest.”

Jihoon placed a hand over Jeonghan’s belly. The baby moved, responding to fear and love intertwined.

“Just breathe,” Jihoon said softly. “We’ll get you safe.”

In the courtyard, Seungcheol’s stroke fell and Huangjing slumped to the ground. The stage was set. The final blow had been dealt.

At that same moment, within hidden halls, Jeonghan felt a final, fierce contraction. But surrounded by those who loved him shielded from the shadows of rebellion, he let himself surrender to the moment.

As Huangjing lay defeated under the glittering dawn, Jeonghan fragile, yet unbroken clutched Seungkwan and Jihoon’s hands, tears and sweat mingling on his skin.

The world they’d fought for was still alive. So was the child he carried, their promise to peace, to legacy, to a future unchained from tyranny.

Epilogue

The scent of blooming lotus drifted across the tranquil palace courtyard as the golden sun dipped behind the distant Gyeonggi mountains. The capital, once scarred by rebellion and ambition—now stood serene, its heart beating strong with renewal.

It had been a year since the fall of Huangjing, the self-proclaimed Emperor, and the dawn of a new era.

Within the beautifully restored inner palace of the King of Gyeonggi , Jeonghan stood near a pond filled with koi, his gaze soft as he watched their gentle movements. His form was a little fuller now, his frame still recovering from the early labor that had brought his son into the world two months before his time. But the boy had survived. Thrived. And now, nestled in Jeonghan’s arms, the tiny bundle squirmed and cooed, his scent unmistakably Omega.

Their son. A symbol of their love and of the empire’s rebirth.

Behind him, Seungcheol, now robed not in armor, but in ceremonial robes of deep indigo and gold, approached silently. A year ago, he had been a general bathed in blood. Now, he was King of Gyeonggi, his crown resting atop hair streaked with silver from the war. And yet, his eyes only softened when they found Jeonghan.

He stopped behind him, wrapping his arms around Jeonghan’s waist and leaning forward to press a kiss to his temple.

“He looks more like you every day,” Seungcheol murmured, his voice low and warm.

Jeonghan turned slightly, resting their son against his chest, his eyes filled with love and the exhaustion only a parent knows.

“He has your stubbornness,” Jeonghan teased. “And your appetite.”

They shared a quiet laugh, and for a moment, there was nothing but peace between them, no war, no rebellion, only the quiet promise of a shared future.

Seungcheol had been crowned King of Gyeonggi six months earlier. The Emperor, restored to his rightful place, had recognized the General’s sacrifice and wisdom and in a bold act of restructuring the Empire, he had split the regions for more effective governance. Gyeonggi, the cradle of conflict and the heart of the business capital, was entrusted to Seungcheol. Not only as a reward, but because only he, and Jeonghan at his side, could truly protect and reform it.

 On the other hand Seungcheol’s nephew Jungil and Eunseo along with the Grand Tutor were executed infront of the whole capital to set an example. Eunseo never thought that she would loose to Jeonghan, but things always proceed as fate has planned it, Jungil’s mother, the second aunt after loosing her son, lost all hope and resorted to scriptures and praying to the Buddha.

In the time since, their palace had become a place of policy, learning, and family. Jeonghan, now widely revered not only as Seungcheol's Consort but as an intellectual and advocate, served as a senior advisor. He had led reforms that ensured Omegas like their son would never again be silenced or discarded. Their child was being raised in a world where his identity would not be a burden, but a blessing.

Within the court, a newfound balance had emerged.

Jihoon, ever loyal, now served as chief Imperial Physician for the Crown. His quick mind and ruthless precision had earned him near-equal standing with the royal couple. He and Soonyoung would get married in the upcoming winter months. Both having realised the care they have for each other.

Seungkwan, bold and compassionate, managed royal affairs and charity projects, focusing on rebuilding villages ravaged by Huangjing’s campaign. He was now expecting his first child with Hansol.

Dokyeom and Jisoo, always teased each other, bickering with one another, yet one can never overlook the care and mutual respect they have for each other. Maybe this two stubborn person can settle down one day.

Mingyu travelled with Wonwoo to the Northern Province, to keep an eye on the provinces. The younger Alpha followed the Older Omega around, in an attempt to woo him but the Omega remained unfazed, maybe the Alpha would succed one day.

The Emperor, wiser now and humble from captivity, ruled with firm but fair hands. He leaned heavily on Jeonghan's counsel, recognizing in him a mind as sharp as any general’s sword. The Empress Dowager, having come to deeply respect Jeonghan, often referred to him as the court’s moral compass.

Even Chan who was once shamed for his Omega status, had found power in literature. Inspired by Jeonghan, he became a champion for Omega voices in the court.

Their household, once made of soldiers and secrets, was now filled with laughter, books, debates, and the gentle cries of a child born of love, not ambition.

One evening, as lanterns bloomed like stars across the night sky, Seungcheol took Jeonghan’s hand and brought him to the palace balcony. Below them, citizens celebrated the first annual Festival of Unity— a holiday they had created to honor the fallen soldier who lost their life to protect the Empire and the victory that was won through blood, tears, and scarifices.

Seungcheol looked out, then back at Jeonghan.

“We did this,” he said softly.

Jeonghan leaned his head on Seungcheol’s shoulder, their son asleep in his arms.

“No,” Jeonghan whispered. “We survived. And then, we built.”