Chapter Text
Min was annoyed, and Min rarely got annoyed.
It had been months since he first had the idea of taking Nakyum, Seungho's overly protected private painter. He had been wanting to taste the young lowborn for a while now, not only because the boy was genuinely pretty and remarkably attractive in an almost too innocent way, but mostly because he knew there must be something special enough in the boy to completely break Seungho like that.
He had known the Yoon lord for a long time now, and never before he had seen the man so vulnerable. The once feared, impassive lust-driven noble was now reduced to a fallen fool, a complete mess and almost an insult to the man he used to be before that painter appeared.
Logically, the boy must have done something to him, and Min needed to know what it was, needed to know just how exactly could a filthy lowborn have such powerful influence over a man such as Seungho.
What he did know, however, was that this drollery had been going on for way too long. He felt impossibly frustrated at how each and every single one of his attempts to get his hands on the painter had failed miserably; he couldn't directly confront Seungho again, of course, not for this, not now that the Yoon lord had apparently embraced his feelings for the boy, which was exactly the reason why all his previous attempts had failed.
Nakyum was too protected, too close to the noble. Where one was, the other followed, and the few chances he had gotten of taking the boy alone, he was surrounded by way too many servants to keep it discreet. Those were clearly safety measures, and as well as he could analyze the situation, he could blame that on Jihwa, after his pathetic attempt at killing the young painter.
And as interesting as Seungho's precious (former) plaything was, and as much as Min wished to taste the boy and fully understand just how could such a simple creature manipulate such a powerful man, his frustration was now even greater than his curiosity; In fact, if you would ask Min himself, his words would be that what happened was just a change in placement of his curiosity, instead of falling for such pitiful emotion as frustration. Instead of wishing to know how the painter had that much influence over Seungho, Min was more curious about how to use that influence.
To be honest, Min had absolutely nothing to gain over Seungho's misery; except, of course, for the fun of watching the lord be torn into pitiful pieces. In his opinion, the Yoon lord was actually not very far from that, even before the painter ruined him, which should make it very easy to finish breaking him. And just how amusing would be to watch Seungho fall, so everyone could see just how weak and vulnerable he had always been.
Thanks to Nakyum, that was now possible. He almost felt sad for the painter. Almost.
After all, the lowborn was about to die.
It was a particularly warm summer day and they had been walking for a while. The market was crowded, and the sun above their heads, together with the slight weariness of walking the whole afternoon through shops and tents and taverns, made Nakyum's cheeks heated with a lovely shade of pink.
The painter walked alongside his now usual shopping - and pretty much everything else - companion, Lord Seungho. If someone had told him a few years before that he would spend his days living with a nobleman as his lover (and perhaps as his friend?), he wouldn't have believed for one second; and yet, here he was, following the man around the market, holding a box of sweets and a few new paints bought for him, while Seungho carried a bottle of newly bought high-quality liquor and a bag filled with summer clothes for Nakyum, newly bought as well.
They had already got everything they came for, and were now simply wondering and enjoying the warm day and the liveliness of the market. On a hot day like this, Seungho would typically have preferred to stay at his household, but he knew just as much Nakyum liked these walks through the market, the excitement bright in the boy's eyes as he happily hurried his steps to keep up with the noble's pace.
The painter was now struggling to get the box of sweets open, doing his best to manage so while walking and without dropping any of the paints he carried as well; when he did get it open, the boy threw one of the candies in his mouth and pulled lightly at Seungho's sleeve, silently offering the box in case the lord wanted one of the sweets, which he refused with a gentle nod.
They turned on a rather packed passway, the crowd of passersby slowly clearing the way at the sight of the nobleman, quite a few bowing their heads mildly as a sign of respect.
However, the villagers didn't do the same for Nakyum, as they saw him as a mere servant; at best, they made sure not to bump into him, as to not displease the noble he was supposedly serving.
Therefore, he did not find it odd when a man stumbled onto him, and was about to apologize for being distracted when his words died at his lips, a sudden sting at his abdomen that quickly grew into a nauseating pain, the feeling of sharp and cold steel being plunged swiftly in and out of his stomach, warm blood instantly flowing out of the wound and staining his clothes.
Nakyum froze, barely able to turn his head in time to see what the man looked like, but it was too late anyway, the stranger already lost amongst the crowd.
In shock, the painter dropped the goods he carried, his arms suddenly too weak to hold any weight. Startled by the sound of the candy box and the paints crashing into the ground, scattering both the sweets and the colorful substances around Nakyum's feet, Seungho stoped and turned immediately, a few steps ahead, his gaze quick to spot the growing red stain on his lowborn's vest, his eyes immediately widening in realization as he was left reactionless for a brief moment, until his stare met Nakyum's and he saw just how deeply terrified the boy looked, his cheeks now pale and his body stiffened in place.
The painter tried to call out to his lord, to explain what had happened, to ask for help and to say that it hurt and that he was scared, but his voice refused to come, and he was only able to breathe out the words "M-my lord" shakingly before he felt his knees weaken.
The world flickered around him, the floor being swiped from his feet, and the next thing he knew was that he was in Seungho's embrace, being lifted and carried away at impressive speed, each bouncing caused by the nobleman's running sent a new wave of searing pain all over his body. He tried to ask the lord to slow down, gripping tightly at his hanbok, promptly forgetting what he was about to say once he saw the blood print his hand left on the fabric; was all that blood coming from him? Would the noble be injured as well?
He struggled to keep his eyes open, his head spinning, everything moving too fast. He saw Seungho's lips moving, screaming something, but he wasn't looking at Nakyum, he was talking to someone else, and he seemed angry. The painter's ears were buzzing, the reason why he couldn't quite make out what his lord was saying.
I hope he's not angry at me, was the last thought on his mind as he drifted into unconsciousness.