[RULE #1]

He drew his coat closer to his form, rough ivory wool brushing over the fabric of his blouse as he stares intently at the buildings that slowly came into view. The morning weather sharp, his cheeks tinted crimson as the winds stroked the fur-lined hood of his garment. Peering over the railing, his gaze wanders as the morning mist fades, revealing the cloudless blue sky.

"Gazing again?" a voice intrudes softly, warm hands embracing his shoulders. Both stare out wordlessly, eyes locked on the palaces and temples in the distance, surrounded by the extensive body of water. "Breathtaking, is it not?"

Yian releases an inaudible murmur, head shaking in compliance. He knows not why he longs to recreate it." It may even hold my next painting," his eyes shift towards the citizens that enter, accompanied in litters lined and molded with silver, perhaps even gold, servants holding them as they enter the village. The tranquil time around them expires, the sounds of roaring and lewd curses entering the air.

"That's enough for today." her voice suddenly sharp as she takes his palm, leading them both back inside of the quarter. Yian's gaze meets his brothers, whose feet swayed as he relaxed on the wooden stool. His mother turns, passing him a small cloth pouch. "I need you to take your brother, with you. I'll be late."

"Ma-" he protests, eyes on his mother as she rubbed the sweet oil into her pale skin. She turns to him with a look in her eyes and a scowl on her lips. Her long hair is pulled back, pin matching the red that sits in the design of her hanbok. She carefully attaches the jacket to the dress, nimble fingers smoothing the creases that may have formed. "Quickly, we do not have time to waste!"

The boys exit the home, a gust of wind greeting them as well as the smell of treats from the bakery nearby. They both walk in silence, the sounds of gravel crunching at their feet. Yian's eyes reserved, focused on the path before him, while his brothers trail the buildings as they walk by. The appearance of the buildings disheveled, some with scrap metals, and planks covering parts that needed to be replaced.

As they approach the bridge, the gravel path slowly fades into one of cobblestone, Yian's hands brushing the greenery that grows on the stone wall. He looks over, a small smile building on his face as the fishes jump out of the stream below. A group of them, swimming in unity, none left behind. And there they were, the opposite. A village of nobles and commoners. A village of separation. A group woefully left behind.

"Yi-Yi?" there's a soft tug on his garment. He glances downwards, reaching his brothers' curious gaze. "You are quite curious about them, why?" Yian blink, eyebrow's drawn together at the abrupt question. The other adjusts his hood over his rumpled dark brown locks, awaiting an answer.

"Of who?" he responds, eyes trailing back onto the path before earning a sigh from the younger. The other entwines his fingers with the olders. "Mama told me that there is not much to know about them anyway." he sighs, "Well for us commoners."

The walk proceeds, with endless chatter from the younger. "-Lady Yoon, she's lovely, dark hair, dark eyes, and a physique that even one who does not obtain sight may look away from!" he exclaims, joy-filled expression meeting Yian's disgusted one. "I forbid you to listen to street gossip ever again."

They leave the market as quickly as they went, Yian holding the satchel of goods and his brother eating sweet bread. The streets are not as lively, children latched to their parent's sides or a couple walking along the road ever so often. They approach a building, the double door already slid opened, signaling that it was open for business. They both walk inside feet with careful steps on the wooden floor.

"I see you are early, as usual." the familiar voice greets as they enter a building. The smaller moves ahead, enveloping the form into his. "Bonjour, Mie!"

"Bonjour, Minsu!" Noémie smiles, allowing the boy to latch onto her. "I haven't seen you in a while," she gently combs her fingers through his hair, earning a nod. Yian moves towards the rear of the building, leaning his belongings in the corner before slipping the cloth apron over his neck. He walks back to the front, watching as the two engage in conversation.

"For me? How kind of you!" Noémie exclaims, taking a bite of the treat. Yian twists away, hands balancing the tins of oil as he replaces them on the shelves. He prays silently for silence but his request seems to go ignored as Noémie releases a gasp. "Really?" she questions, "Father said the reason it is rare to see them is that of an incident that happened in the village."

"Maybe they're scared?" Minsu blinks, hands reaching to play with his knitted doll. "It is very scary on this side of the village." Yian adjusts the brushes on the counter, hands lingering over the soft hairs.

"Rather than they do not worry enough to mesh in the presence of the needy?" he engages, which earns silence from the two. There it is, the calm that refuses to unleash the storm. The townspeople blinded by their unrequited love for a society of secrecy. Worry for those who would refuse to acknowledge one's existence. "Noémie, is there anything else that I may help with?"

"Of course," she gives him a small smile, leading him towards the door towards the back. They walk across to the easel, arranged near the open window. There's a palette, illuminated with different shades and hues of colors. "Here," she states as he takes a seat, confused at her request. "I would like for you to paint ."

She's caught him one evening, back upright as he adjusts the kerosene lamp illuminating the room. His hands moving over to the brushes that lay beside him, mixing colors before resting it on the thin paper canvas. Noémie observes in amazement, the colors joining together to mimic one of the settling suns before them. The silence interrupted by the sound of the aged wooden door, and apologies instantly leaving Yian's lips.

He blinks at the memory, gazing back and forth between her and the easel. "That is all?" he asks, earning a nod from the other. "Your paintings are too lovely not to request." she lingers, following, as he mixes the hues on the palette. "How fortunate you are, with not only a beautiful appearance but a beautiful gift..."

"And what good may they produce if I hold not a coin to my name?" he scoffs, paintbrush slowly drifting along with the easel. There is a silence between the two, both basking in one another's warmness. "It is not all about wealth, Yian. Il y aura des jours Meilleurs." she dismisses. "Soon it will be your paintings mounted in every riches palace."

"I understand, then after I shall be whisked off by a prince who is entranced by my beauty at first sight?" he jokes inducing a smile from the other. "We shouldn't aim so high this early, a son of a noble will do." There's a comfortable silence between the two. "How simple it seems."

Noémie herself was born into a moderately wealthy lifestyle, the daughter of a well-known french philosopher and her mother no stranger to stability herself. She possessed both, her father's intuition and her mother's beauty. "Perhaps if I lived a daughter of a wealthy nobleman, I would be that optimistic too."

Noémie glances towards him, knowing him for far too long to know that his tongue holds no spite. His lips pursed and his eyes meeting everywhere but her's. "Why are you so critical of yourself?" she challenges, eyes following the greens on the canvas. His hands come to a halt as she is met with silence. "It's quite evident that you know the answer."

Noémie delivers a small noise of defeat, resting her head on his shoulder. Her curls rub at his neck, causing him to adjust his position. "It is not spineless to reveal your emotions, you know?" she breathes. "Why waste tears when I have a paintbrush?" he counters. His tears the paint, his mind the paintbrush, and the world his easel.

"How poetic," she adds, glancing up at him. His gaze soft, brown hues locking with her's then back to the easel before him. "I cannot wait until I meet the one who manages to wed you." she shakes her head at the thought.

Yian lets out a hum that is rather neutral than annoyed. They both sit-in one another's presence, unspoken words never leaving their lips. "As with you, whatever gentleman delusional enough to ask for your hand in marriage, that is,"

She releases a soft gasp, bumping her shoulder into his as he laughs. "To think you would've been my gentleman of honor" she teases. Reaching up, she moves her fingers through his hair, a fond smile on her lips. "That person will be lucky for you indeed,"

His posture grows stiff and uncomfortable, the smile on his lips no longer visible. The lady detects this, sighed, before lifting herself from the chair beside his. Her steps are light, and it is no secret where she was headed. "Why is it that you believe that you are not worthy to be loved, Yian?"

The paintbrush slips from his shakey fingers as the door shuts behind her.

. . .

The evening draws quickly, leaving the three to tell one another their goodbyes. He bows to Noémie and her guards, around her protectively as they head towards the Kun home.

The streets are scattered, servants rushing to their home after a long day's work just to meet the faces of their loved ones. Other's hang around small alleyways, if not beggars then beautiful women dressed in their attire, face painted pleasingly as men approach them to lay with them for the night.

Yian balances them both, the bag of goods on one arm and a sleepy Minsu on the other." YiYi?" the boy mumbles tiredly. The little one yawns into his neck, moving his body closer to his brother's for warmth. "We're almost there," he dismisses, ignoring the burning pain of exhaustion in his arms.

They take the shortest route home, weary of the village thieves who start to wander around the time. It had already grown dark, the outside lamps lit as he quickens his pace towards the quarters. He marches up to the door, swiftly unlocking it and entering. He latches the door behind him, sighing as he was surrounded by the small home's warmth.

Yian quickly prepares, turning on the lamps in the home, before resting the sleeping boy onto the futon. He also knew it was time for him to prepare supper, knowing that his mother would not return soon. He winces as the flames from the pot graze his hanbok, causing him to step back.

By the time the younger wakes to complain of food, he walks over to the table where he meets the older. "Meat!" Minsu gasps, folding his legs as he doesn't bother to wait for his brother. The two eat in silence, Yian gazing fondly as the other one reaches for more vegetables.

"Let's prepare for bed, " Yian gathers the dishes once they're done, both satisfied with the meal. There's a worrying voice that he can't shake, but he brushes it off as this isn't the first time his mother returned late. He's handled taking care of the home and Minsu, not remembering the days when he didn't.

"When will mama come home?" Minsu asks, his eyebrows furrowed and mouth pinned with worry. He whispers comforting words in his ears as the younger clings to him, resting him assured that their mother would wake up next to them in the morning.

Their mother who spent hours a day fornicating with men. Their mother who stumbles into their home late at night, the smell of sex and a man's oil all over her. Their mother who thought it was best to risk her life for a silver dime. Their mother who still fails to realize her self-worth. Their mother who they regardless, will always love deeply.

Some tears threaten to reach his eyes, his nimble fingers brushing them as he blinks. His bones grow weak from exhaustion, eyelids slowly closing as he nudges his nose into the soft tufts of the smaller's hair. Their home was not significant, not one with gold or physical pieces, but it did not matter as long as they were together.

"𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥, 𝘠𝘪𝘢𝘯?" His heart pains at the memory of Noémie's words.

Who was Yian to be selfish and love another, when he felt that he did not give his own blood all the love they deserved?

He sleeps on his back that night, restless as Minsu clasps to him.