The emperor rose from his throne with the slowness of a predator circling its prey. His heavy boots struck the polished floor, each step echoing through the suffocating silence of the chamber. Yunxi, still on his knees, raised his head at the sound. The sight of the emperor closing in sent his body stumbling backward in sheer terror.
Terror had its own language, and it spoke through Yunxi's wide, bloodshot eyes, the quiver of his pale lips, the way his chest rose and fell too quickly as though he were drowning.
His mother cried out, rushing forward instinctively, but before her hands could touch him, the royal guards seized her arms. Her fragile form was forced down against the cold marble, her cries muffled by the weight of armored fists.
"No, mother!" Yunxi choked, scrambling forward to plead, but before his voice could reach her, the emperor's shadow fell over him. A rough hand seized his wrist, another tangled into his silken hair, yanking his head back so violently his throat arched. Yunxi's face was dragged close until all he could see were the emperor's merciless eyes.
His own eyes were swollen, red and puffy from endless tears, his lashes wet and trembling.
"What happened?" the emperor asked again, his voice low, controlled—but it slithered across the hall, reaching every corner.
"Please…" Yunxi's broken voice escaped, no answer, only a plea.
The emperor's gaze hardened, his grip on Yunxi's hair tightening until his scalp burned. His words pressed against Yunxi's ear, but his tone was loud enough for all to hear.
"Tell me what happened that night. Tell me you had no hand in it. Tell me my doubts are lies my mind created." They were friends, no... at some point Han ji believed they had become one. The thought of Yunxi poisoning his mother scared him for years, he yearned to ask, to know from the very person. It was like fate was playing games with him. They became distant, the kind of distance that made him sick. He was always away or the boy was playing hide n' seek with him. It was like their time together had all been spent and only crumbs were left.
Yunxi sobbed harder, trembling hands rising desperately to clutch at the emperor's wrist. "Ar Ji… you are hurting me," he stammered, using the forbidden name he once spoke only when begging for warmth.
The emperor snapped. With a vicious yank, he flung Yunxi backwards.
"Don't call me that."
His voice thundered. "Don't."
He turned as though to return to his throne, but midway, his cold voice cut the air:
"…Start."
The order was enough. Guards surged forward, seizing Yunxi's family.
Traitors in the eyes of the crown.
Screams filled the hall as they were dragged down the countless staircases, their bodies yanked and beaten, tied with coarse ropes. One lady stumbled, bones cracking, others thrown without mercy.
The emperor followed shortly, his robe trailing like a shadow behind death.
"Your Majesty, please!" Yunxi cried, struggling violently against the guards who bound him. His tears blurred his vision, but he fought, begging for mercy.
"You could save them, Kim Yunxi," the emperor said without turning, his tone calm, cruel. "Tell me the truth."
Yunxi's breath hitched looking down. He remembered the nights the emperor had promised him happiness, swore vows into his ears. Through his pain, Yunxi spoke, "You promised!" The Emperor turned, looking down at tge boy. Like a pull Yunxi's head snapped up, blank, and he continued
"You promised me"
An accusation.
Too slay.
The emperor whirled on him, seizing his collar and shoving him hard until his knees buckled. "I didn't break my promises!" His teeth ground against each word. "You broke them first. You betrayed me. Your family betrayed me more than once. Do you think am stupid?"
Yunxi's fear was animalistic. Though they had shared years together, though he had once nestled in the safety of those same hands, he had always known the truth, his friend could become a monster with pressing just one button. And right now Yunxi had pressed more than once.
With one brutal movement, the emperor dragged Yunxi against his chest, his back pressed against his solid muscle, his delicate body dwarfed by the this sovereign. Yunxi, barely twenty, looked like porcelain in the grip of a titan. One of the emperor's hands bound Yunxi's frail wrist, the other coiled around his slender neck, forcing him to stare down at his family.
Below, they were a mess of bruises, broken bones, and blood. Yunxi's mother clutched his young cousin, his granny had collapsed, and his father, he was beaten until he spat crimson.
"Minister Kim," the emperor's voice rang, smooth as silk but sharper than a blade, "Your son refuses to speak. Then you will be beaten until he gives me what I want." That wasn't a threat
"No! Stop—!" Yunxi's voice cracked, his body thrashing. His father's cries, his mother's wails filled the palace as rods lashed their skin. Blood spilled, staining the grounds. Yunxi's panic shattered him. He kicked, stamped, pulled against the hold crushing him. "Father! Mother!" His shrieks tore through his throat until he was hoarse.
"I'll say it! Please, stop! I'll tell you what happened!" he screamed, stamping his feet against the floor like a desperate child.
The emperor didn't move, didn't loosen his grip. His lips curled in irritation. "I have been pleading with you to speak all this time. Now it's your turn to plead." His voice was soft, but his eyes glowed with cold rage.
He threw Yunxi aside like a broken doll. Guards pinned the boy again before he could stumble toward the blood-soaked stairs.
"If you do not give me what I want," the emperor said, his tone like ice cracking, "One head falls." His gaze flicked to Yunxi, sharp and merciless.
Tears streamed down Yunxi's cheeks, shaking his head in denial. His lips trembled as he finally whispered, "It was me."
It wasn't.
Gasps spread through the officials standing nearby. The words in the air. Treason
The emperor remained still, as though deaf.
"I poisoned her." Yunxi's voice rang firmer now, cutting through the silence.
The emperor moved in an instant. His hand seized a dagger and hurled it with deadly precision. The blade found its target, burying itself into the neck of one "traitor."
Time froze. Yunxi's ears filled with silence, drowning out the world.
Then..
A child's scream cut through. Little ying who had been pushed to dodge the tragedy broke the silence, running, stumbling toward the fallen body. Yunxi's gaze followed, his breath shattering.
The corpse lay sprawled, blood soaking her silk gown. Her eyes, gentle eyes....were wide open, staring emptily at the ceiling.
Mother?.
"Mother!" Yunxi screamed, his voice tearing from his soul. His knees collapsed beneath him as the hall rang with the echo of his cry.
Yunxi pulled and pulled against the iron grips of the guards, his wrists burning raw, his cries echoing helplessly in the vast. His knees scraped the polished floor as they dragged him back, yet not a single official dared speak, not a single minister objected. Silence had wrapped the court like a suffocating shroud. Everyone knew Jo Han Ji. They had known him since the day he first drew blood as a boy. Mercy had never belonged to him. To expect "it" was foolish.
And Yunxi knew this better than anyone.
The man before him, the one who now had him pressed down with such force, was no stranger. He was the same Jo Han Ji who had once laughed at the trembling of soldiers, the same who crushed traitors without hesitation, the same whose hands were stained from youth. Even when they were younger, even before the throne had crowned him, Jo Han Ji had been merciless.
Yunxi remembered too clearly.
It was a late afternoon, the fields stained gold with setting sun. At ten, small and stubborn, and Jo Han Ji had been two years older, already towering with a sharpness in his eyes that unnerved grown men. That day, a female guard had been riding close by. She was devoted, perhaps too devoted....always shadowing him. Always ready at his side. Jo Han Ji had disliked it, he had told her to keep her distance. But she was too proud and new, his temper flared.
Yunxi could still see it.
The bow in his hands, the string pulled taut.
"Don't," Yunxi had shouted, tugging on his sleeve. But the arrow flew anyway.
It missed it's intended mark. Not the horse's rider but the beast itself screamed, collapsing onto its chest. The guard was thrown, landing hard with a sickening crack of bone. Yunxi had rushed forward, voice shaking, "You could have killed her!"
The woman struggled, gasping, pulling herself toward her sword with shaking fingers. Yunxi thought she would live, that Han Ji would relent.
But he hadn't.
He had strode to her without a word, lifted the blade she could not reach, and with one fluid motion, crimson spilled across the grass.
Yunxi screamed until his voice broke. He had fallen backward in the dirt, hands trembling, staring at the warm blood soaking into the soil. The woman's body stilled, her eyes wide and unblinking at the darkening sky.
And Jo Han Ji?
He had not even looked at her corpse. He had only turned his gaze onto Yunxi, cold and empty, as if daring him to protest again.
'Say on more word!" It seemed
Yunxi had sworn never to speak to him, like it was a choice. Han ji had not flinched, he had killed anyway, mercilessly, effortlessly.
That memory surged now, colliding with the present, the lifeless body of his mother sprawled on the marble below, his father bloodied, his family beaten. The sound of his own scream seemed to merge with the echo of his younger self.
"Mother… Mother!" Yunxi's voice cracked, tearing his throat. He clawed at the hands holding him, tearing his own skin against steel armor. He wanted to run, to throw himself down the staircase, to cover her with his own body, but the guards restrained him with ease.
The court members still remained silent, heads bowed, their fear as heavy as chains. None dared challenge the emperor. None dared breathe too loudly in the presence of his wrath.
And Yunxi, though he had once sworn, though he had once believed there was a fragment of softness in Jo Han Ji, knew now with chilling certainty.
There never had been.
There never would be.