Lurking in the Shadows
The life of a captive wasn't an easy one, especially when they were tied to the Monarch, the Head of the State, the most powerful man in the reign.
Where could one run?
How far was too far?
Baekmin was spread all through South.
Stretches of marshy land surrounded the Kingdom and it even served as a protective fence for the reign.
Enemy troops would have to cut through 4 foot deep mud and slush, to be able to enter the land of Baekmin.
The King had brought in Soojin as his Queen Consort but whether she was being treated as one, was questionable.
The masses looked up to her, for she was a commoner who had risen to the stature of a royalty.
Little girls idolised her, they wanted to be her.
Girls from the village would never dream of becoming Queens, they could reach the status of servants and if lucky, concubines.
As for Yun Ki, he had multiple concubines, ready for him at the snap of his fingers, at any time of the day or night.
Having taken in the ropes of his Kingdom at a tender age, he let out steam by indulging in alcohol preparation or in the arms of the concubines as his own wife, refused to give in to him.
He was ruthless, he could have Soojin under him, at just about any time.
It was the fact that she had the ego of the size of The Hallasan, that Yun Ki wanted to break through.
How long could she survive in the kingdom, without giving herself to him, carrying his heir and fulfilling her duties as a woman, he thought.
His patience had been wearing thin with every passing day and he'd started fantasising about being with her and inside her.
Summoning one of Soojin's servants, someone who looked after and groomed her, he made her his concubine.
"How d-does she look?" He asks, taking the servant from being, her robe pushed up to her torso as the vindictive ruler squeezes his palm into her round bottom, which has the girl withering and a moaning mess.
"H-How does she I-look when she c-cleans hers-self.." He purrs into her ear, hands snaking to the concubine's throat.
"S-She's the e-embodiment of purity, s-sire." The petty concubine moans out, choking and struggling with every word.
"Tell me, does she t-touch herself at night?" Yun Ki asks, moving his hips with a higher intensity, as his pants and the submissive's loud whines fill his chamber.
"I-I heard-d her o-once, your Majesty. She mewls out in exasperation, sire!"
He loses control, pushing himself into the servant, with all his might, imagining Soojin and her body, her thighs that'd go numb from stimulating herself, the feeble knuckles she'd have to stuff into her mouth to stop her moans from falling into her servant's ear as she reached her high.
How sensitive her erect nubs would grow with her innocent fingers cramped up inside her tight hole, the throbbing of her precious bud, her innocence, her eyes that held the look of inexperience and before he knows it, he's losing himself.
Losing himself, after a girl, who is his lawfully wedded wife, who's grown aware of the heartbeat that not just resides in her chest but also within the caves of her milky wet thighs.
All he wants is to be the reason behind that pulsation, that involuntary throb.
The reason why his innocent wife finds herself rubbing her thighs together, desperately trying to replicate the warmth that only he and solely he, can provide her.
Soojin, however, was unaware of the things the King had been doing, unaware of the fire she'd lit in his loin, the dent she'd delivered to his superiority and authority.
She knew who he was and she saw him as an imposter.
She spent nights, tossing and turning in her chamber thinking of how unjust it was for the King to go to the lengths of attempting to kill his own brother.
The man had the soul of the devil, she was sure.
Her motives had now transpired to overthrow the man, who'd bought her and her freedom at a cheap rate.
She felt an odd sense of empowerment.
She knew she had an upper hand over her so-called husband, she knew his past and she knew how and when she could use it as a weapon.
Soojin had got to work, hearing in on the Emperor's meetings with his Ministers.
She'd planted her servants in the meetings, they recited the decisions, the laws and the scams that the Ruler had been imposing upon his people, before her.
The only way to overthrow the ruler was to bring to the public's view, his wrongdoings and his inequitable means of conquering wealth, that he'd keep to himself.
She'd started writing about the decisions passed in every meeting, down on scroll, ink, she'd borrowed from an insider under the pretext of writing a poem.
She'd hand over the scroll to the real Min Yun Ki, who'd promised to meet her in the forbidden garden, the Garden of Jasmine, every fortnightly.
So every 15 days, Soojin found herself trudging down the corridors, into the garden, every night it struck 12.
He'd be there, she never knew how but he always was there, under the Cherry Blossom tree, that had started becoming her favourite.
He'd have his scarf pulled up to his nose, taking the stance of a petty gardener. Something about him was captivating, perhaps the warmth in his touch or the way his rough hands etched with lines that sang a tale of his hardships, grazed lightly against her own soft ones.
He'd wear a grateful smile, face covered in grease, his black tresses oily and stuck to his forehead, like his faithful companion.
She'd started growing a sense of attachment to the man who'd take the scrolls from her grasp and ask her about her day.
He'd even once wrapped a scarf around her neck, hand lingering over her shoulder, longer than it should have or maybe that was Soojin's imagination growing wild.
"I hope he doesn't touch you, where you don't want to be touched." He says, while his eyes scan over her form.
Her heart beats faster every time the words of concern leave his lips and she goes back into her chamber, with a stomach full of butterflies and a paced heartbeat, that gains prominence not only against her ribcage but against her soiled cotton panties, that she hand washes, every 15 days, at the break of dawn.
Why was he so delicate in his demeanour? She'd wondered. She would be lying if she said she didn't feel attracted to him, his eyes that held honesty beyond anything. She'd also be lying if she said she did not want his veiny rough hands, all over her, exploring her and spoiling her for the ruthless King to claim.
Ah, the way he'd make her feel.
Of the many obligations Soojin had to fulfil, one of them lay in the daily Royal Tea Breaks.
The servants would lay out Herbal Tea, that was believed to enhance and accentuate the Queen's fertility and agility, every evening in the Palace's Garden.
The King had called it, The Garden of Jasmine.
"Do you know why this Tapestry of colours is called The Garden of Jasmine, My Lady?" The King asks, sipping on Camomile Tea, made specially for him.
Soojin shakes her head, walking through the garden, staring at the Cherry Blossom tree, while Yun Ki stares at the Jasmine flower in his grasp, following his wife's footsteps. "Take a look at this flower, Soojin. Jasmine." He says, offering her the flower.
Soojin stares at him and the flower, emotionless.
"Soojin, this flower symbolises Delicacy, Grace and Frailty. It's strength lies in its fragrance-captivating in true sense. It can drive one insane, drunk from its sweetness.." He says, moving closer, running the petals against Soojin's neckline, watching goosebumps grow over her frail skin.
"-It's biggest disadvantage, however, lies in its delicate texture. One stomp over it and it succumbs to force. You, my Dear Lady, are very much like this flower. Jasmine." The King breathes out, crushing the flower in his tight grasp, eyes refusing to leave Soojin's fiery ones.
The cramped and crushed flower falls to the grass, his knuckles growing white. Standing her ground, Soojin's lips tug into a smile, sarcasm dripping off of her words. "My King, the owner of my existence, the father of my offsprings—" Yun Ki's eyes fill up with hope.
"— What might your name signify? Min Yun Ki..." Soojin asks.
She knew what his name meant.
It meant radiance, gloss and shine.
It signified the beauty that lay in paragon, the colour that leaves a prism when all the others unite to one, to give the light that illuminates the grey world.
It signified a man who was meant to stand out, break the boundaries that ruled mankind, a man so extravagant, he'd beam in the darkest room.
A man so wise, his virtue would lie as a Jewel in the hard.
The words that leave The King's lips are nothing short of a shock.
"The man that hides behind the light, behind the epitome of right and wrong, the man who can co-exist with radiance and radiance only. The one that appears clear as daylight during the break of dawn but disappears in the darkness that night brings along with it. The man that's always been dependent on another being for support or for life. The man that finds no meaning in his own life. The man who will always be forgotten for he is transient, temporary and ephemeral. The man who rises with the sun and sets with it. The man who's name means Shadow."
Shadow?
Yun Ki's face stiffens up as he realises the words that have left his mouth.
His eyes meet hers and for a second, they hold a moist film over them, a layer of regret, guilt and dismay.
A plethora of emotions she was almost sure that the merciless King lacked.
Before he has the chance to leave, filling her mind with a chaos of questions, that remain silenced, she grabs onto his hand, as he turns away.
He was good at holding in his emotions.
But, for how long could he keep up this charade?
"That's not what Yoon Ki means." she concludes, voice shaky but resilient.
Resilient enough to know it has reached his ear. Resilient enough to know that he has fallen prey to his own antics. Resilient enough to know that he too, was human.
And all Min Yun Ki says is, "I know."