3 The fateful encounter [R-18]
Soojin's POV-
"Take her away!"
The echoes of the pleads of a distraught woman are heard in the chamber as she's dragged by the ends of her unkempt hair, robe peered open, exposing her supple mounds.
A line of courtesans stand outside the doors of the chamber, the disheveled woman coming into their sight as the pads of her knees scrape down the dainty corridor.
They shiver at the shattered sight.
The King was far too cruel.
He had a heart of stone, that cruel bastard.
"He's very rough." A mistress whispers to the woman standing beside her.
A frenzy of hushed down tones fill the corridors.
I stand amidst the many, fiddling with my fingers, adjusting the sleeves of my jeogori.
Tears had dried down my cheek, producing a pale shimmer over my face.
I was not here out of choice, it was a compulsion.
A rather unfortunate one.
They'd threatened to kill my handicapped brother, as he'd been seen as someone who'd contribute to a genetic defect, that he'd pass down the generations.
His life was spared in compromise of my body.
I had a promiscuous body, they'd said.
I was held captive, groomed and cleaned, to serve the Monarch.
They'd dressed us in red, an auspicious colour, but also the colour a lamb is reduced to when it is sacrificed to the Lord.
I felt like a sacrificial lamb, being herded into the reigns of the brutal King, who'd been notoriously known to impregnate and breed women he grew affection towards and discard the ones, he thought were of no use to him.
I wanted to belong to the latter class.
Every night, the King's Chief would select a mate for him, who he'd use to his pleasure.
"Sooh Ah was chosen last night. She couldn't sit down the entire day today. Poor girl, didn't even make it to the Royal Concubines list." One woman whispered, close to me.
"He's inhuman, breeds a new kink everyday. I was so close to being chosen last week." Another mumbles.
"Never make eye contact with him, he hates it." The middle aged lady, whispers in my ear, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.
Staring at my feet, my palms get sweaty.
I wasn't prepared.
I'd never done anything that was even close to being intimate.
A loud thud is heard and the doors of the chamber open.
"Get in, fast!" A man shouts from the other end, the guards, ushering us in like a herd of cattle.
Chief Hong stands before us, with his group of 5 Ministers, as they instruct the guards to space us out, before them.
"Move it!" One guard says, pushing me aside as we were being manhandled.
It was rather obvious that they didn't think of us as equals.
What more could I have expected from a Tyrant and his army of blind patriarchs.
The chief moved along the groups of women, who stared down at the ground in sheer fear.
He kept moving closer to my side of the group, inspecting a woman, 2 rows ahead of me.
"Open your Hanbok!" He says, pointing at the woman before him, as he stares her down, filthily.
Undoing the strings of her clothing, she opens the robe, exposing her naked form to the Chief, who's eyes are hooded in inspection.
Placing a hand over her bare waist, he turns her around.
"Too saggy." He comments about her rump, thoughtlessly.
He sneers and the embarrassed woman clothes herself, staring down in shame.
Rage takes over me at his comments and a part of me wishes to retaliate but comes to realisation that my brother's life lies in my own hands.
Biting my lip in anticipation, my eyes are peered shut.
"You at the back!" A sound booms, causing me to regain awareness.
I raise my head to see rows of women staring back at me and I lock eyes with the Chief who passes me a smug grin.
"Come here." He says, motioning me with his fingers.
Walking past the whispers of the other women, I stand before the Chief, my head held down so as to avoid any attention.
One of the Ministers places a hand over my jaw, lifting my head, forcefully.
"Oh, she's the new courtesan, the sister of the incapacitated Kim Joon Ki..what a shameful life she's lived, no one to play with.." He says, running his fingers down my face to my neck.
"— no one to protect her blooming youth.." He completes, feathering his fingers over the lace of my pink Hanbok.
Tears sting in my eyes, blurring my vision.
"Enough, disrobe!" Chief Hong shouts, pushing the Minister back.
My trembling hands grab the rope, pulling at the strings with shaky fingers, the fabric piercing my cold skin, as the material opens, revealing my naked torso.
"Beautiful!" The chief says, staring at my unveiled bust.
"This is what youth looks like ey, Minister Choi?" The Chief asks, as a roar of laughter is heard before me.
"Very perky, taut. Too bad the King is going to turn her into one of them.." Minister Choi says, pointing at the mistresses, who'd been used by the King.
Grabbing the fabric closer over me, I cover myself in dismay.
"His Majesty, will have you tonight." The Chief concludes and my head tips down, coming to terms with what was now my reality.
In all fairness, I was convinced that I wouldn't be chosen.
I never stood out and wouldn't stand out here either, right?
Wrong.
The guards push the fleet of courtesan out of the chamber.
The Ministers take one last greedy glance at me and excuse themselves.
"The King awaits you in his Royal Bed chamber. Follow me."
Walking down the hall, I pass by the long corridor that holds photos of the Royal Family.
My eyes search for a picture of his.
There weren't any.
No one in the Kingdom had seen how the King looked.
He wore a jute mask at all times.
A mask that covered the features that would distinguish him from the rest.
In my humble opinion, I'd always believed a King connects to his masses through his facial expressions, his emotions and his eyes.
One's eyes were never wrong, they just couldn't lie.
They were the windows to one's soul and being deprived of that, raised suspicions in my mind with regards to what The Crowned Head was trying to conceal from his own people.
This fuelled the curiosity amongst the Villagers, many a times.
Many believed his looks were lethal.
He was a beautiful man, rumours said.
A man so beautiful, women would line up to be his concubines, voluntarily.
Some believed half his face had been burnt by acid by the Rival Kingdom- Silkim.
Very few believed that he had an inflated ego and could not afford to look too ordinary, like his Subjects, which is why he wore a mask that he could change as per his own whims.
I could test the waters tonight, perhaps.
Even the murals were of his early years.
Why had he not had any new ones made, in the privacy of his own Palace? I wondered.
A massive golden chamber door lay ahead of me.
"I have her." The chief whispers through the slit of the sliding doors.
A moment of bustles are heard before a response in the affirmative is heard.
"Send her in." A low pitched, heavy accented voice is heard through the other end.
Opening the doors, he pushes me in, bowing courteously and closing the door.
My eyes wander over to a thick orange curtain before me, where the shadow of a man is seen through the other side, who's supposedly seated on the floor, his hands working on a painting, as the brush moves with every stroke.
His head shifts in my direction, momentarily.
"Come inside.." He says, voice softening.
My hands feel at the curtains, pulling them aside, as I step into his personal space.
My eyes are plastered at the floor, as I was told.
They dart over to his art work, a fiery dragon in progress.
Placing the brush aside, he stands up walking towards me and I immediately step back, the back of my thighs hitting the frame of the bed.
My eyes raise a little, enough to see him dressed in the highest order, ash grey streaks cascading over his shoulders, down to his chest.
His height was towering over mine and he was bigger in size, up close and personal.
"What's your name?" He asks, toying with the strings of my robe, twirling them over his metal cladded fingers.
I can't help but stare at his pale arms, his long fingers fresh with scabs, the blue of the veins adorning the back of his palm.
My voice is shaky and I stutter, giving away my nervousness.
"K-Kim Soo Jin.." I mumble.
Walking away from me, he reaches a table that displays liquor of different colours and shades.
Mixing the beverages in varying proportions, he twirls the rouge liquid around the thin stemmed glass.
Gulping down the fluid in one go, he lets out a low growl.
Composing himself, he shuffles towards me in a staggering gait.
Once standing before me, he shifts the weight of his body from one leg to the other, struggling to remain upright as his breath deepens and is heard near the shell of my ear, fanning the lateral side of my face.
Untying the lace that binds the top half of my Hanbok, he lets my white satin inner wear fill his vision.
He sucks in a breath and a scratchy voice leaves his throat.
The silence is overwhelming and his advances towards me, stir intimidation deep down my core.
What was going to happen?
He clearly knew what he was doing to me.
Pushing me aside, he seats himself on the foot of the bed, the wood creaking under his weight.
The creak was a great reminder of how overused this bed was for it to be in a fragile state.
"Sit here, Fair Lady." He motions, patting the top of his thighs.
My fists clench and unclench as I second guess any of my future steps.
My mind is clouded.
What was I doing in his room?
Just as I was contemplating my strategies, I feel a tug on my elbow, pulling me towards the hard body, waiting for me.
Seating me over his lap on the edge of the bed, his breath fans my face and reeks of ethanol, a solution I was no stranger to.
One I used at work to clean and peer off rust from metals.
The tips of my fingers press into each other as my heart has a mind of its own and thumps at an insane rate.
His fingers run over my clothed stomach, feeling over the satin.
"S-So soft.." He purrs, knuckles brushing around my ribs over to my breasts, where his fingers linger on a little longer.
The bony projection of the back of his index finger presses into my bud, that was starting to harden under friction, causing me to roll my head back, into his shoulders.
"How old are you?" He asks, dropping kisses down my collar bone.
I dig my head into his firm chest as my toes curl, being overwhelmed at the stimulation.
My knuckles are stuffed in my mouth, surpassing my moans.
He'd caught on to my age, I was sure.
"I-I'm nineteen.." I mumble, retrieving my drool coated hand, coming back to my senses.
He hums in response, squeezing my supple breasts, with a firm affirmation.
"You have the hips of Aphrodite.." He whispers against my neck, sucking at the crook, while his hands rubbed my sensitive hips, the outlines of my pelvic bone resurfacing, against his caresses.
I was in a trance and wasn't myself anymore.
I hadn't been intimate with any man.
This feeling of being caressed was odd and foreign.
It almost felt like being used but I was mentally in a different land where I had lacked the willpower to stand my ground.
Laying me against the pillows, he enters between my parted legs, that shake with every breath I take.
Standing on his knees, he disrobes.
Grabbing my hips, he comes closer to my ear.
"I'm going to put a baby in you, tonight. Your hips will take it, won't they?" He groans, biting my earlobe.
Quivering in response, my chest feels tight from his overbearing weight over me.
My breath paces as his fingers reach over my core, grazing me over my clothed panties.
Withdrawing from me, he grabs the calves of my legs, pulling me closer to him, my butt resting over his thighs as my core in approximated closer to his face.
My head is pushed into the pillows as he looks at my disheveled form, squirming under him.
My eyes water and my fingers clutch the royal red bedsheet.
"H-Have you lost your virtue, yet?" He asks, rubbing me over and over, constantly.
Shaking my head no, he lets out a low chuckle.
"I'll be sure to ruin you, sweetheart. Ruin you for any other man that tries to exert his right over you. You'll be reminded of how you were stretched by The Crowned Head."
All hell breaks loose with his authoritative and demeaning tone.
His lewd words were nothing like his gentle caresses, that reflected care.
Who was this man who believed he could treat me as a rag doll, as per his own wishes and throw me away, like a used toy, chewed and abused.
Anger pools in me as he digs his head into my inner thighs, his long grey locks, sticking over my sweaty body.
I look up, watching him hold my thighs apart, his nails digging into the pale skin while his lips suck and leave purple bruises over my most intimate parts.
"P-Please...d-don't.." I cry, gaining adequate courage.
Withdrawing himself from me, I view his face, his forehead as clear as dawn and my eyes wander to his eyes, subconsciously.
All the prior instructions that head been fed into my system had vanished in the snap of a finger.
I didn't want to move my eyes away from what lay before me - His eyes.
His eyes.
They're the darkest shade of black, dark and deep with lust.
An unsaid emotion hidden behind them.
My eyes run over his pale face and dry skin, a deep red wound running perpendicular his right eye, that appears to be an old wound as it's fibrosed.
It's long and the gaping wound runs down his prominent cheek bone.
Caught in the moment, my heart races as my mind consciously tries to memorise the tiniest features of his.
The mole near his lip, the faint scuffle of unshaved hair prominent over his square chin.
He was beautiful, they weren't wrong.
But he was also such a hard hearted dictator.
He's taken aback at the eye contact, not expecting a petty mistress to have the audacity to stare into what was the key to his soul.
My hands get the best of me as they cup the right side of his cold and clammy face, lips ajar that let go of puffs as the pads of my fingers dance along his cheeks, over to his scar.
Feeble fingers feel the leathery old dark red scar that runs down his cheeks and for a second, he nudges into my touch, rubbing his own cheek in the warmth of my palm as my curious fingers probe the wound.
Then, he snaps.
His pupils shake as he throws my legs aside, causing my body to jerk sideways.
I, however, don't break eye contact.
I can't.
He's almost too human, too ordinary.
Grasping the curve of my neck, he pulls me close to his face as we're now eye-to-eye.
"You pathetic mistress! How dare you look into my eyes! Have you forgotten your stature? The absolute audacity to stare into an Emperor's eyes, when your hymen hasn't even torn yet..." He mutters, clenching his jaw as his hands grab my throat.
Tears stream down my eyes as my lips quiver under his rage.
Him using physical force over me had me realising what I'd been lured into, a Lion's Den.
Enveloping my lower lip in his mouth, he sucks at it, nibbling on it as my mouth parts, throwing desperate cries from the abrupt move.
Releasing my lip with a lewd pop sound, he gets up from the bed, wearing back his robe.
"Get out, whore." He spits, throwing my robe over my disheveled form.
------------------
Meanwhile, his mind fills up with vulgar thoughts of stealing her innocence, breeding her with the heir of his Kingdom..
She was the first woman to have had the courage to look into his eyes.
No one had ever looked into his eyes in the longest, he thought.
How could someone as petty as her stare at him like it was nothing?
A part of him was filled with fury while another part marvelled over what that girl was made up of, to be able to make him feel so small before her gaze.
He just needed to weigh the two feelings to come to a conclusion.
However, she'd seen him and his biggest vulnerability, The Scar.
------------------
As I scramble into my clothes, hastily, he looks back at me, downing a gulp from his glass.
"Don't you dare say a word outside. Else, I'll have my men sent over to execute that crippled mess. Don't forget, you're in my Kingdom." He says, in a whisper.
I, however, am filled with deceit.
A king, with a scar?
"The Crowned Head, with a scar? What have times come to.." I whisper, inaudibly, stepping out of the chamber.
--------------------
On the other hand, Yun Ki had made a decision.
The King calls for the Chief, who views Soojin running out in worry.
"Have her sent to me every night, hereafter. She'll be my mate." He says, running a thumb over his plump lips, a playful smirk tugging at the ends of his lips.
That's just how Min Yun Ki was, a stubborn bastard.
