Chapter Text
Lee Sanghyeok and Han Wangho knew each other as persons before anything else. They met at the city, coincidentally, or when they visited each other’s palace as a token of regards and a mark of a good relationship between two kingdoms.
Wangho had always been someone who Sanghyeok regarded as a personification of sunshine. Warm, bringing people so much joy and brightens the world around him.
Years passed, the Wangho he knew turned into Prince Wangho, and King Wangho shortly after the death of the late king.
Sanghyeok paid a visit to the palace for Wangho’s coronation. Despite all the jewels adorned his body, Wangho’s eyes couldn’t cover the sad and empty feelings there. His emotions, his empathy, Sanghyeok left everything at Wangho’s palace. Because back in his palace, Sanghyeok had to fight his own battles and couldn’t afford such emotions to mess with him.
Everything should be about logic, brain, strategy and ultimately… power.
Sanghyeok had one goal in his life. To be the king. He needed to be the number one in his kingdom. To prove to everyone that he’s able to do the impossible.
And to be the number one, he couldn’t do this alone. He consulted about almost everything to the high priest, in hope to give him a solution he needed. These few years, everything the high priest said had been proven true and always had the best outcome.
That’s the reason why Sanghyeok finally told the high priest that he intended to marry Wangho, to secure that no one could steal his title of being the best. The King. The Number One.
The High Priest studied him carefully after he heard what Sanghyeok said, “Your Majesty,” he said, “marriage alone will not secure your throne.”
Sanghyeok frowned in confusion, “explain yourself.”
“As long as his kingdom stands equal to yours, you are not the number one.”
“He would be my consort.”
“He would be a king, still.”
Sanghyeok’s voice hardened slightly, “what are you suggesting?”
The High Priest didn’t soften his words and told Sanghyeok straight-forwardly, “you must conquer his kingdom first.”
Clouded with greed and everything he had yet reluctant to give it away, Sanghyeok took the advice seriously and declared a war.
The war lasted longer than he expected because despite his easy-going personality, Han Wangho did not surrender easily. He showed Sanghyeok why he was chosen as the next king and he wasn’t just a mere beauty but also brain personified.
Wangho was so skilled at strategic planning that it took many of Sanghyeok’s people and knights down.
Even until the end, Wangho never surrendered. Sanghyeok just selfishly commanded his people to kidnap him back to his palace. Ignoring the agonizing screams from Wangho that begged him to behead him.
When they finally brought him in, Sanghyeok almost didn’t recognize Wangho. He looked thinner, face sharper, but his eyes—his eyes were exactly the same and they locked onto Sanghyeok immediately. The eyes didn’t shake with fear nor glint with surprise. It looked soulless
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Wangho laughed softly. A humourless laugh that didn’t even reach the apple of his cheeks let alone his eyes, “…Your Majesty.” His voice was hoarse.
Sanghyeok forced himself to remain still as he spoke in an authoritative tone, “You should not have resisted this long.”
Wangho tilted his head slightly as one brow shot up into his forehead, “resisted? You speak as though I had a choice.”
Sanghyeok’s jaw tightened, “I offered you marriage.”
“You offered me surrender.” Wangho corrected.
Their eyes held but Wangho’s expression didn’t waver at all. So did Sanghyeok’s..
Until slowly, deliberately, Wangho lowered himself to his knees—not because he wanted to but because there was nothing left. Wangho accepted the fact that Sanghyeok would never let anyone kill him, even himself.
So he said, “I will comply with Your Majesty’s will.”
The words sounded polite yet as empty as Wangho’s gaze and Sanghyeok hated them more than if Wangho had cursed him.
The wedding between them was beautiful—we were talking about the party and the celebrations of course, because emotions wise… Wangho was nowhere as beautiful as the jeweled ring Sanghyeok put on his finger.
He stood beside Sanghyeok—close enough to touch yet farther than he had ever been all this time they knew each other.
They barely spoke that day. The silence lasted long, just like the war and Wangho’s perseverance.
Until one night, months later, Wangho was standing near the window when he finally asked, “was it worth it?”
Sanghyeok looked up, “what are we talking about?”
Wangho turned to face him, “all of it. The war. My people. My kingdom. Even me.” His voice was calm to talk about those things.
Sanghyeok frowned and not quite answering the question directly, “I preserved your title.”
Wangho laughed—again, it wasn’t a happy sound, “What’s left on that? You destroyed everything that gave it meaning.”
Sanghyeok obviously couldn’t answer this. Because now thinking back, he was so selfish he didn’t know what got into him to do that.
“You could have just asked me.” Wangho told him, “I would give you everything. My hands in marriage, my treasures, even my heart.”
Sanghyeok kept silent. He knows what he did was wrong, but everything was too late to fix. He didn’t think a sorry would be enough.
“We could have a normal married life, Your Majesty.” Wangho’s expression twisted, “but that wouldn’t have satisfied you, would it?” his voice trembled now as tears threatened to escape from his eyes, “you needed to get a trophy for something that was not even a competition.“
“Wangho, that is not—”
“If you are so in love with your title and legacy that much…” Wangho said, his voice breaking despite himself, “may you fall for me again.” he smiled with wet eyes, “but i will not be this easy to capture again the next time our paths cross each other’s.”
He left before Sanghyeok could answer and Sanghyeok never followed—he didn’t think he deserved to follow Wangho.
It was one of the many things he would regret for the rest of his life, on par with the day that was not meant to be remembered.
It was when something happened in the court, as there had been countless times before. Wangho stood where he always stood—one step behind and to the right of the throne.
He let himself be seen by the people, but staying at a distance that made everyone wonder if he ever belonged to this kingdom at all.
Sanghyeok was only half listening to the noble who spoke before him. His mind lingered elsewhere, caught on the familiar awareness of Wangho’s presence. He had grown used to this feeling. He wondered—not for the first time—if there would ever come a day Wangho would look at him the way he used to.
He might be asking too much if he expected love from Wangho. Sanghyeok knew better than to hope for that.
He only needed forgiveness from Wangho. At least before he died.
The thought had barely formed when the doors burst open.
There was shouting and a figure Sanghyeok did not recognize came into his view. Before he even registered what was happening, he caught a glimpse of a flash of metal.
Time slowed when the weapon was raised and aimed at him.
Sanghyeok did not move. He had been raised to face death as a king. But today might be the unluckiest day to die since he just thought he wanted to get forgiveness from Wangho before he died.
Seems like he will die bearing the guilt from ruining Wangho’s life with the war.
But then he saw a fast movement. Someone tried to cover him—Wangho.
No! This can’t be!
Sanghyeok’s eyes widened as Wangho stepped in front of him. The sound came a moment later.A dull, sickening impact.
Wangho’s body jerked forward, whereas Sanghyeok’s body went numb and his ear rang.
For a split second, Sanghyeok didn’t understand what had happened. Just when Wangho staggered, Sanghyeok caught him before he hit the ground.
“Wangho?!” his voice came out unfamiliar and wrong.
Wangho’s weight collapsed against him. Everything about him was warm. Just like what he remembered a long time ago.
Sanghyeok’s hand went to the back of Wangho’s neck. It came away wet and red.
“No.”
Around them, chaos erupted. Guards seized the assassin. Courtiers shouted. People ran in panic, yet Sanghyeok heard none of it.
All he could see was Wangho. In the last moment, his whole world revolved around his consort.
Wangho’s lashes fluttered weakly, as seconds passed, his breathing got shallower.
“…why?” Sanghyeok asked.
He did not know which part he was asking about. There were a lot of questions Sanghyeok wanted to ask but too little of time
Why did you step forward? Why did you save me? Why did you not let me die?
Wangho’s lips curved faintly, not from happiness but in surrender, “Your love for the kingdom outweighs your logic, just like how my hatred outweighs the love for you.”
Wangho’s fingers weakly clutched the front of his robes. The words should have hurt—they did. But Sanghyeok didn’t think what came next would sting more.
“This is the best outcome I can do for us.”
Wangho’s downturned eyes met Sanghyeok’s sharp ones. For the first time in a long time, there was no anger in them. Only exhaustion.
“I take back… my words… that time. Let’s… not… see each other again… in… the next life.”
His grip loosened. Sanghyeok felt it. Felt the exact moment Wangho stopped holding on.
“…No. Wangho.” His voice broke. No one had ever heard it break before. Sanghyeok never let someone hear that voice of his, “Han Wangho, stay with me. Please.”
There was no response even though Sanghyeok stared at him patiently. Waiting and hoping
But Wangho’s pale skin against his was no longer normal. And ultimately Sanghyeok’s world ended there.
In his arms.
With the man he had loved too late.
They buried Han Wangho on a day when the sky could not decide whether to rain. The clouds hung low and heavy, pressing down on the palace until even breathing felt like an effort. It served as a reminder of Sanghyeok’s sins for him—heavy and full of pressures.
Sanghyeok had dismissed the court. He didn’t want their condolences, He didn’t want their pity. Most of all, he didn’t need their relief.
Because he could see it.
They would never say it aloud, but they thought his greatest obstacle had been removed. They thought the surviving king had been fortunate.
They were so wrong.
Sanghyeok stood alone in the burial chamber, staring at the casket he had chosen himself.
It was the most beautiful one he could find.
White, smooth, and gleaming softly beneath the dim light, its surface polished so carefully that Sanghyeok could see his own reflection staring back at him. Gilded on the edges—not excessive, but just enough to honor a king. Always less than enough to honor Wangho.
He had spent hours ensuring every detail was perfect. As if perfection could make up for everything else.
Wangho lay inside, dressed not in the robes of Sanghyeok’s kingdom, but in the colors of his own—Sanghyeok had insisted on that.
He would not take that from him, too. The last thing he wanted was to strip Wangho off his identity.
For a long time, Sanghyeok simply stood there in silence.
He did not cry—well, he had not even cried when Wangho died in his arms, either.
The remaining king stood there undefeated but remembering the last moment. The warmth of Wangho’s blood on his hands and how quickly it had cooled. He even remembered his last words.
Let’s not see each other again in the next life.
With all that… Sanghyeok didn’t feel like winning anymore.
Sanghyeok’s fingers curled slightly at his sides, “…you always spoke as though you could decide such things,” he mumbled.
Wangho did not answer—he could never do that again.
Behind him, he heard quiet footsteps. The High Priest.
Sanghyeok did not turn around.
“Your Majesty,” the old man said gently, “you should not carry this burden alone.”
Sanghyeok let out a quiet breath, “he died because he stepped in front of me.”
“Yes.”
There was no denial nor comfort offered in lies. Sanghyeok appreciated that, at least.
“In his last moments, he hated me.”
The High Priest was silent for a moment before he spoke, “hatred does not compel a man to sacrifice his life.”
Sanghyeok did not know if that was meant to be comforting—It wasn’t.
“He is gone.” he said.
The High Priest shook his head, though Sanghyeok could not see it, “no, Your Majesty. All souls return to the cycle. King Han Wangho will be reborn.”
Reborn.
The word made Sanghyeok’s hope flickered once again.
“…reborn,” he repeated.
“Yes.”
Sanghyeok stared at Wangho’s still face. He would be alive somewhere else. Breathing, living, free and full of hope.
“…will he remember?”
The question left his mouth before he could stop it. He did not know why he asked. Perhaps because he already knew the answer, just wanted validation.
The High Priest did not hesitate, “no.”
He would not remember the war, the marriage, the hatred and he would not remember Sanghyeok.
Sanghyeok felt something inside him crack, “…I see.”
He should have left it there, should have let Wangho go. That would have been mercy. But then again, Sanghyeok had never been good at mercy.
“…is there a way,” he asked quietly, “for our paths to cross again?”
The High Priest went still, “that is not a request made lightly, Your Majesty.”
“I am not speaking lightly.”
Silence stretched between them.
At last, the High Priest spoke, “it is possible. But there is a price.”
“I will pay.”
“You do not yet know what it is.”
“It does not matter.”
The High Priest studied him carefully, “…you would bind your fate to his?”
“Yes.” he did not hesitate.
The old man’s gaze softened, but his voice remained steady, “then hear this first, before deciding if you still wish to proceed or not.”
Sanghyeok waited.
“You will both be born again with the same names.”
Sanghyeok frowned slightly, not understanding why that mattered, but he said nothing.
“And King Han Wangho will not remember this life.”
Sanghyeok’s breath hitched at that.
“Only you will remember.”
The word rang in his head, again and again.
Sanghyeok would remember everything. Every mistake, every cruel decision, even every moment Wangho had looked at him and seen his captor instead of the person he harbored good feelings.
Wangho would live freely and Sanghyeok would live with the weight of it.
“…he will not remember me.” Sanghyeok said.
“No.”
Sanghyeok turned back to the casket. He looked at Wangho’s face. Peaceful and beyond his reach. Perhaps this was what Wangho had wanted. To live a life untouched by him.
Sanghyeok should have respected that. He should have let him go.
His fingers trembled slightly as he reached out and, for the first time since Wangho died, allowed himself to touch him.
“…I am sorry,” Sanghyeok whispered. He knew the words were useless now, but they were all he had left.
He closed his eyes and commanded, “bind our fates.”
The High Priest did not speak for a long moment.
Then he decided, “so be it.”
And Sanghyeok understood, in that moment, that this—this would be his repentance.
Everything shouldn’t end with death, nor loss. But remembrance for the rest of his life and every life that came after for he deserved to be punished this way.
On his last breath, Sanghyeok entrusted his throne and everything it carried to his most promising apprentice, Lee Yechan.
The appointment was done quietly, without celebration, without even explanation.
He simply placed the royal seal into Yechan’s cold hands and told him, “guard this kingdom well.”
It was the legacy Lee Sanghyeok had sacrificed everything for—everything he had sacrificed Han Wangho for, and now, he was leaving it all behind to see his husband again.
"I heard this year, a new jungler will debut."
"Really? How do you know?"
"I heard it from the birdie~"
"Yah! Be serious!"
"I literally heard it from Jongin... But don't let this rumor leak, okay?"
"How old is this jungler? Same age like us? Or Sanghyeok?"
"Maybe as young as Sanghyeok."
"What's his name?"
Sanghyeok kept focusing on his phone, didn't really pay atte.tion to what the other players talking about until they mentioned a name.
"Peanut. Han Wangho."
Sanghyeok froze. Every past interaction rushed into his memory once again like water from a broken dam. It felt bittersweet. He was relieved that he had finally met his Wangho again. But he didn’t think he deserved to be with him in this lifetime.
He didn’t think his repentance was enough to atone for his past sins.