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Dawn enveloped Hiryuu Castle in soft colors of crimson, indigo, and yellow; the fresh morning dew hung in the air, bringing a cold tone to the scenery. Castle servants and maids walked from one side to the other, carrying out their morning duties, slowly waking up the royal palace.
In Princess Yona’s chambers, the yellow dragon sat on his knees with his arms resting on the red windowsill, serving as a pillow for his head, as he entertained his boredom by watching the plum tree in the courtyard, unfazed by the rushing, blurred figures in the distance. Lately, it had been hard for them to walk around the palace’s grounds without permission. Anywhere they went, everyone’s attention lay on the quartet of dragons, distracting soldiers, guards, even servants, and, ultimately, causing more problems to the princess. As confined as she was to her bed chambers, all they could do was pass the time with her.
Outside, a light breeze shook the branches of that plum tree, causing the peaceful dewdrops on its leaves to free-fall to the ground, and just then, someone knocked on the bedroom door.
Zeno limply turned his body to face the person standing by the door – one of the king’s personal guards.
“Yellow Dragon Zeno,” the man said when he recognized him, “His Majesty wishes to see you.”
Before, the king had called for the four dragons or the princess, but never one of them in particular. Of course, such a dubious request caught everyone off guard.
“Only Zeno?” Yona asked.
“Yes,” the guard replied.
Even if Zeno wanted to find an excuse to not go, he hadn’t been doing anything since the moment he woke up, and gazing at the plum tree outside had its limited entertainment. It wouldn’t hurt to see what this king of theirs had to say.
“It won’t take long,” he smiled to lessen everyone’s worries.
Zeno silently followed the guard out of the royal family chambers, but his mind, instead of paying attention to the breathtaking scenery around him, focused on what the king could want from someone like him. He had to admit, even after living for more than two thousand years, there were still people who could catch him by surprise. Undoubtedly, Soowon was one of them.
Days after the group had come to Hiryuu Castle and the tournament to show the dragon’s powers to the public was held, Soowon had also asked to talk privately with Zeno. When he put two and two together, Zeno had argued that Soowon was interested in the Yellow Dragon’s power even after having stated he had no need for the dragon warriors.
To which the slippery one had replied, “I can be fascinated by the existence of immortality without wanting it.”
“You believe Zeno is immortal when you haven’t seen any proof of it?” Zeno had questioned at the time, soon finding out that the plan to show off the dragons had only been approved in hopes of seeing his own power. Yet, when Zeno had suggested that if Soowon wanted to see it for himself, he should kill him and see what grotesque things would happen to his body.
However, the slippery one had replied once again with “I’m not that curious,” leaving Zeno with more questions about this person than he had before. He didn’t even know if he should have taken that as a compliment or not. Well, not like it mattered to him either way.
Only when Zeno noticed the guard knock on a large red door, easily recognizable as one of the king’s rooms, did he realize that they had arrived at their destination.
“Please come in.” Zeno heard someone say from inside the room. The voice was familiar and yet foreign to him. Faint and raspy as if the person had been screaming at the top of their lungs moments before, but at its base, a sense of sweetness remained. So characteristic of him .
When Zeno entered the king’s study room, the usual, infinite number of books were stacked in piles on the floor – they had even seemed to have increased since the last time Zeno visited – and next to them, against the wall, were a handful of bookcases stuffed with more books, maps, and accounts’ scrolls. At the far end of the room, sitting on the ground with his elbows resting on a table and a hand supporting his head, was Soowon.
Zeno had stopped in his tracks, his blue eyes widened in shock as a memory from two millennia ago resurfaced in his mind. The king looked frail, and the yellow dragon had seen it one too many times.
“I apologize for calling you here so early,” Soowon must’ve said, or at least that seemed to be what Zeno had heard. He couldn’t help but look at the dark circles under turquoise eyes and the typical massaging on the temples from the head-splitting migraines.
Swallowing hard, Zeno had a forbidden thought. Just like… King Hiryuu.
Soowon’s voice brought him back to the present, before his mouth brought to the surface something from the far past. The dead stay as they are. Zeno knew it all too well – even if he begged the heavens and the gods, they would simply play blind and deaf like frauds.
“Bring breakfast,” Soowon ordered the guard, who left immediately to do his duties, leaving the two alone.
With a sigh, Zeno said, “If you’re going to take a break, you should get some real rest. Your body would thank you.”
“Is that what an immortal would advise me to do?” Zeno looked at the man sitting on the ground with both hands on his waist. He saw the sly smile on Soowon’s face as he looked up, disappearing just a second later as if it hadn’t been there to begin with. “Just a little joke. Please sit wherever you like.” Soowon gestured to his front, getting back to reading an accounts scroll.
“What do you want?” Zeno asked as he took a seat on the opposite side of the table.
“Well… I thought it would be good to have breakfast together.”
“Huh?”
Soowon lifted his head and tilted it to the side.“Is that a problem, Zeno?”
“N-No…” Zeno answered dumbfounded. Of all the things he had thought the slippery one would ask of him, this one could’ve never crossed his mind.
Soon after, several maids came in with a banquet for breakfast. They filled the small working table with several plates of fruit, bread, steamed buns of diverse fillings, and even rice porridge with vegetables to the side. Surely, with nowhere but the floor to put the scroll he had been reading, Soowon’s work came to a stop.
The Yellow Dragon was known for his energetic, cheerful personality, who paid little attention to status rankings between nobility and commoners. To him, titles were nothing but just a few meaningless, fancy words stuck together to later be washed away by the passage of time. Whether it be a wealthy king or a poor commoner, Zeno would treat them all the same: with the kindness each deserved. And so, he let Soowon serve him first, placing the best pieces on the plate of his guest.
During the meal, Zeno listened to Soowon talk about things the man considered fun . The food they were eating, the floral tea from Yunho’s garden, and the business she had been doing. Soowon led the conversation to Kuuto’s own market, and even if the careless Zeno had no interest in trading, he wasn’t bored by such trivial matters. After all, he noticed how Soowon kept it simple and short by choosing easier words known to common people. Slowly, Zeno let his guard down, opening more to the man in front of him. He knew Soowon had sensed it as well as Zeno got subtle questions about his past, the changes in the palace, the country two thousand years ago, and the places he visited.
Zeno couldn’t help but find Soowon’s fascination with his immortality quite peculiar. Others wouldn’t think twice to cut him down to see it for themselves, while some would even beg him to give some of his flesh and bones to cure a loved one, or even worse, to selfishly gain immortality for themselves. A futile act, but, unfortunately, quite regular. In contrast, from the day he had known the truth behind the Yellow Dragon’s power, Soowon hadn’t asked him the impossible, not even once. Despite being a descendant of the Crimson Dragon King, bound to have an unfortunate and short life, and wishing he had been given more time, he had no desire for the dragon warriors. Instead, his curiosity manifested itself through questions, blindly believing what Zeno told him and not asking for proof. Of course, Zeno wasn’t a person of lies and deceits, but even if he wanted to, he couldn’t seem to lie to this man. He found this desire to learn the unknown almost endearing.
After the pair finished their meal, Soowon called for the maids to clear up the empty plates and bowls, leaving only two small cups and a pot with freshly brewed tea. Zeno saw him put the accounts’ scroll back on the table, reading from where he had stopped and looking even more exhausted than when Zeno arrived. He was about to scold him again to take a break when Soowon spoke.
“Oh! There’s one more thing I wanted to ask you.” Soowon lifted his face, looking bright and full of life for a second.
“There’s more? It almost seems Zeno is on a trial, about to be sentenced to death, not that I can die, though. Young King,” Zeno called, “What are you going to do with all this information?”
“What am I going to do?” The other man repeated, thinking for a moment, and as if an idea had popped up in his mind, Soowon said with a playful hint of mischief on his tongue, “I’ll store it in a hidden, warm place where a steady rhythm plays as a melody.”
Nothing escapes from that mouth, does it? Zeno thought but said nothing. He couldn’t help but wonder where such a place could exist. Maybe–
However, as if guessing his guest was trying to find the answer to his riddle, Soowon continued, “You knew about my mother, right?”
“We weren’t really acquainted, but I’ve kept an eye on the Crimson Dragon King’s descendants over the centuries. But ever since she came to the palace it was hard for me to know about her state, especially someone connected to the royal family. I didn’t know her child would contract the illness as well, I had hoped not, but… the Crimson Dragon had once been a god after all.” Zeno paused as he lost himself in a memory of the past. “You truly do resemble your mother.”
The tea had gotten cold by the time Soowon spoke again. “How many of those descendants have recovered from the crimson illness?”
Zeno heard the crack in his voice. He wondered whether the question was for him or if Soowon had asked himself that.
“None,” Zeno replied, and, to no one’s surprise, Soowon sighed, probably expecting that same inevitable answer. “The crimson illness reminds me of the other dragons. They’re fated to have short lives. It’s the cost of unearthly powers and blood. That cost will be demanded by the next dragon, whether they want it or not.”
“But I’m an ordinary human.”
“True… Then again, the Crimson Dragon became human over the Heavens’ objections. King Hiryuu… The Crimson Dragon King, too, had a short life.”
Soowon sighed and massaged his nose bridge. “According to the legend, Zeno, you were once human too, no? How come it doesn’t apply to you?”
“Indeed, there was a time when Zeno was human. It’s been so long I can barely recall what it felt like… To age or get sick with a common cold are concepts I can no longer remember.” Zeno paused. “Maybe my duty as a dragon is not over, or maybe the Heavens have something in hand for me. Whether it is suffering or a blessing, we’ll see when the time comes.”
“When the time comes…” Soowon murmured softly, bringing his hands to his head.
“Are you sleepy?”
“I asked Minsoo to bring my medicine when I called for breakfast,” Soowon said, burying his forehead even more into the palm of his hands. “I can’t spare the time to sleep, but… the pain interferes with my work.”
“Lack of sleep will shorten your life, Young King.”
Soowon leaned onto the table, his arms serving as a pillow. “I don’t have… enough time…” Blonde locks covered his face and the outer robe that rested on his shoulders fell to the ground.
At this, Zeno moved closer to the other man and sat on his knees next to him. He watched the rise and fall of his back as Soowon breathed steadily as if his worries had disappeared without a trace. Two thousand years ago, Zeno had taken care of King Hiryuu, had given him medicine and watched him sleep, as though his immortal presence would cure the crimson illness, but immortality could cure them of nothing. And two thousand years later, Zeno found himself in a similar situation. A bittersweet feeling rose in his chest and he sighed heavily.
Zeno grabbed the fallen outer robe and carefully placed it back on Soowon’s shoulders, as gentle as a feather, and tucked it in so it wouldn’t fall once more. He reached his hand forward, pausing just before reaching the other man. Hesitating, he clutched his fingers.
Young King, even with all the time you could possibly want, nothing will ever go as you wish. Even if you had prayed to the Heavens, They wouldn’t listen. They don’t listen to the ones who have powers akin to them, much less an ordinary human. If They had known Crimson Dragon’s blood runs through humans’ veins, I’m sure it would hit a nerve, and turmoil would settle in the skies. You say you have no need for Gods, Young King, you really are far-sighted. They abandoned us a long time ago. We shouldn’t have a need for them either, but someday… My journey will too come to an end, and when it does… I’ll try to grant your wish. Even if it means turning my back on those so-called Gods.
After a moment, Zeno’s fingers brushed the blonde locks, tucking them behind Soowon’s ear and revealing a soft sleeping expression on the man’s face. “You don't have enough time and yet you invited me to join you for breakfast,” Zeno said with a fond smile on his face, pretty sure Soowon had already fallen asleep.
Though, to his surprise, Soowon whispered, “... and it was lovely.”