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From the first breath he stole from the world, he had one thing drilled into his brain — bare your teeth, aim for the throat. And so bare his teeth he does, tear it apart limb by limb, and devour. No matter if you choke and even if your teeth break — eat. Eat until you can’t anymore, until you’ve had your fill, until the thirst is quenched and until your body is satisfied. Eat even if it's the last thing you’ll do.
You need to go to war; stuff yourself with what is needed, what is required. Fill yourself with something temporary, bloodlust, to satiate the permanent scar in your stomach. Pretend for a minute that you’re not as empty as a hollow, that your flesh is not stitched up by a body part that you stole, that this is not an awful attempt at impersonating a becoming of something, something larger and bigger and entirely not you.
He is the God of War after-all, it is in his nature to consume. To lay waste in every boulder that prohibits him from doing just that. To burn every kingdom, destroy civilizations that stretched on for miles, end a culture with just a tip of his fingers. Because who is Jaehyun if he can’t take it all? Who is Jaehyun if he failed to stack up dead bodies and rake up victories all in his name?
The 10-year war between two of the largest empires just ended. And as wars usually end—it was full of lives lost. And Jaehyun hated that. In war, soldiers were expendable, as if they didn’t have a life of their own, as if they hadn't had passions and things that made their soul sing. Jaehyun hated it even more that it was of his own doing. That it was of his own accord. That their blood is on his hand, on his tunic, on his spear, and he infinitely reeks of death.
He laid on the ground, panting heavily. Every war won is equivalent to a war lost. Jaehyun never truly felt as disgusting and rotten as he does whenever he is at war. With the words of his Father, ringing constantly in his head: You don’t need to be high quality of meat to function. Jaehyun affirmed it too, in his head. You don’t need to be high quality of meat to function. He repeated it over and over, until the only thing in his head was his purpose.
You don’t need to be porcelain dipped in honey to do something for the human race. Especially if you’re the God of war. The gears on his body are rusting, and if you listen closely, it elicits an uncomfortable grating sound as they turn. But this is the only thing he knows—to fight.
The fetid stench that comes with war became his perfume, along with the guilt that rests heavy on his throat. And so he kneels on the ground and prays. He prays and he prays. He asks for forgiveness for destroying a family, a kingdom, a precious human life. He sees the humans do it countless of times, he thinks that maybe it’ll silence the roaring beating of his heart, he finds for the nth time today that it doesn’t. And for the nth time again, he felt helpless—like he wasn’t a God. Like he’s human.
Jaehyun feels like a decaying carcass.
He then walked. He walked tirelessly until his feet led him to a vast flower field that seemed to stretch endlessly, beyond even the gaze of divinity. In the heart of this expanse, the statue of the God of War stood tall. It towered imposingly, muscles etched in intricate detail, each sinew seeming to pulse with restrained power. Its eyes, rendered in gleaming bronze, bore a fierce intensity, gaze fixed on some distant battlefield. In one hand, a mighty spear gleamed, blade frozen in a timeless battle-ready pose, while the other hand clenched a shield adorned with symbols of conquest. Every crease of the armor, every strand of his flowing hair, seemed alive in the flickering light, embodying the essence of valor and conflict frozen in eternal bronze.
Jaehyun felt a dissonance within as he beheld the statue—a monument to a man honored by both royalty and common folk, yet a monument destined to be dismantled by the very man it portrayed. He gripped his spear, his knuckles turning white. Gritting his teeth, he raised his arms in an attempt to destroy the statue in front of him. Before he could even strike the boulder, a solitary pluck of a harp string resonated through the air, its ethereal sound reaching his ear. With his hands in the air, stance freezed along with the sudden thump of his heart, Jaehyun turned his head to pinpoint the source of the sound.
There he saw —
A boy lay in the sea of lush green grass, surrounded by vibrant hyacinths, looking like he belonged in their world. His hair, kissed by the golden hues of the setting sun, swayed gently with the wind. He has his hands cradling the back of his head and one leg casually draped over the other. He had his eyes closed and his lips smiling. He looked at peace. He looked divine.
The sunlight shone on top of the boy’s head, creating a halo. It seemed as if the sunbeams were purposely made to shine on him, illuminating his being. Jaehyun thought he was maybe losing his head.
The melody danced in the air like a gentle breeze, wrapping around Jaehyun and leaving him dazed. He sank onto the cool grass, leaning against the statue's lifeless form. Closing his eyes, he surrendered to the music, letting it wash over him like a warm tide. Jaehyun really should mind the presence of a stranger, but a war that felt like it lasted for a lifetime just ended, and Jaehyun thought that he really couldn’t care less.
For that moment, Jaehyun indulged himself. He shouldn’t. He knows he really shouldn’t. He knows the first rule—after a job is done, leave. Don’t let anyone see you. But the music is so beautiful. The warmth of the melody, starting at his ears, reaches deep into his heart. He felt something bright burst out of his solar plexus then and for a while, he felt alive.
All of a sudden, the music came to a jarring stop. Startled, Jaehyun opened his eyes, only to flinch at the sight of the boy crouched before him, studying Jaehyun with blank eyes. The boy's gaze was intense, as if trying to see through him, examining him with each blink. Jaehyun thought his eyes resembled that of a tiger.
“You are a deity whose battles are fierce, yet bloodshed fills your heart with disdain.” The boy said, looking at Jaehyun’s eyes with face as still as water. Jaehyun thinks he can see the sun inside of his irises. Bright, burning, eternally warm.
“Why?” The boy asked. Jaehyun couldn’t seem to answer—he doesn’t know where to start nor does he know if he wants to. With a sigh, he stood up, leaving without looking back.
During his long journey home, only he knows of the boy with sunlight in his irises. And when he falls asleep, only he understands that the boy was as beautiful as his music. And if the image of the boy playing his harp under the sun haunts him for the few days to follow, only he would know too.