Notes.
Hello once again. I know, the Gwishins are on a break, but I still had that OS in my mind since a while, and I thought it could be interesting to finally share it with you guys. Like any other of my works, this one was first written in french, then translated in english. I hope there won't be any mistakes, but feel free to point them out at me should you ever see one !
This short piece is both included in the Gwishins story and a stand-alone. It happens after episode 25, and in between that episode and episode 26. How was it born ? In the weirdest way ever, probably. Three things were necessary :
1°) Episode 23 of the original drama, where Woon tells Kenzo he will accept any challenge of the latter asks for it (#Weknowwerethisisgoing)
2°) My dumb brain and its bullshit (my faithful partner in crime)
3°) And a wildlife documentary. I swear it's not a joke. I was watching a documentary about lions and tigers the other day and when it showed some coupling, I was like "these females are incredibly violent and fiere and these poor males and...wait a minute...". I think I need help.
Title was inspired by (of course) a song from The Midnight.
Woon's clothes were based on that one black silk robe worn by Lee Soo-Hyuk as Gwi in "The scholar who walks the night".
PS : in case you were wondering why I keep refering to Woon's hair as curly, let me give you a bit of information. Start watching episode 26, and go right at the end, when Woon fight the queen's soldiers. Stop at 1:01:53, when Woon is done and turning his head towards the queen. Pause the episode. Put your hand on your screen, and hide half of Woon's face (the part where he has almost no hair, I think it's the left part). Now look at the right part. Here you go. You're welcome.
I wish you a good reading !
CAUSE IN THE DARK, THERE ARE NO STRANGERS (ONLY TWO GOLDEN DRAGONS)
" Because in the dark the are no strangers
There are no strangers at all
'Cause in the dark there are no strangers
There are no strangers at all
I was a lost boy when I met you"
(The Midnight, american artists, "Lost Boy")
Less than a week after the attempted ambush against Crown Prince Yi San, Kenzo, with the help of the Minister of War, requested an audience with the new Sky Lord of Heuksa Chorong. The minister was all about his conspiracy and thirst for power, and he showed only little surprise when the samurai expressed his wish to meet the leader of the assassins in his own quarters. The exact location of the guild had been kept secret since its foundation, and the vast majority of its allies, if not all of them, were strictly unable to locate it on a map of Joseon's kingdom.
You will only succeed if one of its members agrees to take you there, Hong Dae Ju pointed out to him without even paying him any attention, as he was too busy staring at the throne. Kenzo was patient and, while declaring to the minister that he wished to settle technical details with the leader of the guild, he managed to convince him to transmit his request, or at least to indicate to him a messenger likely to reach the Sky Lord.
Go see the Qing merchant on the shopping street just in front of the royal palace, the minister indicated to him with a lazy hand gesture, as if informing Kenzo was exhausting him deeply. He will take your request to the Sky Lord. Nevertheless, he thought advisable to warn him that Heuksa Chorong opened its door little to visitors, and even less since the leadership had changed.
"Ambassadors were better received in the time of the predecessor," Hong Dae-Ju remarked. "He was no longer young and had had his day, but he was more open to the outside world. His young successor is taciturn, and he likes his solitude. Do not expect a positive answer."
Kenzo went to the place the minister had mentioned, and presented his message to the owner, a short, stocky man with a long black braid and dressed in the traditional Chinese fashion, just as Kenzo was wearing the attire of his own country. They were, once facing each other, a strange, almost comical contrast, as each betrayed by his costume, by his gestures, by his accent, his belonging to a completely different kingdom than Joseon. At first, the man was suspicious. He pretended not to know either the Sky Lord or Heuksa Chorong, and Kenzo was forced to be patient and make reassuring promises to convince him to accept his message.
The man gave him no deadline for the transmission. I'll see what I can do, he said, and Kenzo assumed he wouldn't be given anything more. He returned to his assigned residence and spent the next day gathering his documents, walking and training alone, as his men had returned to Japan. He was most likely to be called back by the shogun, who was eagerly awaiting his report on Joseon's martial forces and the state of the monarchy.
It's getting old, like all the others, Kenzo had written in his last letter, while being careful to use the codes that Tokugawa, the tenth of his name, had ordered him to favor in their correspondence. It was highly plausible that the latter was the subject of a close surveillance by Joseon's government. Kenzo knew the king was suspicious by nature, and feared the Qing empire, for which he had sacrificed his own son, far more than the shogunate, which represented a threat held at bay by the sea.
His request for an meeting was granted after a three-day wait, during which he feared a repatriation order from Tokugawa. He spent nights having restless, confused dreams, the likes of which he hadn't had in a long time. Heuksa Chorong's Sky Lord was in every one of them, and he often repeated, in a soft, languid voice, "I will accept a challenge whenever you wish". For Kenzo, it was nothing really new. He was surprised, however, to see how quickly it had developed, matured in his heart, and colonized his thoughts. Usually his passions were somewhat slower, more peaceful. He put his sudden eagerness on the account of his soon to return to Japan, the date and duration of which he could not control.
They came to pick him up one evening, without warning. Kenzo recognized the dark colors of the guild. The men, two in number, were masked and ordered him to follow them. He submitted to their authority without discussing or blaming them for their rough manners, although they left a bitter taste on his tongue, for it was not entirely certain that all the guests of Heuksa Chorong had to endure such rudeness. He said nothing, however, even when they covered his face with a black blindfold to prevent him from seeing anything, thus preserving the mystery of the real location of the guild's headquarters.
As a practical man, whose experiences had endowed with good sense, Kenzo nevertheless prepared himself for a possible trap, and did his best to orient himself with his remaining senses, which, it had to be acknowledged, were not famous for helping him find his way through the countryside of an unknown territory. In Japan, he had learned to recognize the valleys, trees, sky and stars, and he knew geography almost as well as those who had drawn the maps of the land. Of Joseon, on the other hand, he knew almost nothing. If the Sky Lord had planned to eliminate him, it was very likely that he would hardly be able to escape, or would end up wandering for a long time without being able to find his way back.
However, he arrived safe and sound, and was taken down from his horse, still blindfolded, into a heated building, where he heard the activity of several inhabitants, whom he assumed to be the assassins of the guild. They took him up a staircase, guiding his steps with their voices, and Kenzo felt he was walking through corridors, the soles of his shoes cracking a floor that he assumed to be covered with parquet.
He counted three angles, and nearly a hundred steps, when he was suddenly stopped, and he heard in front of him the sound of two doors sliding open, while the man on whose shoulder he was resting his hand as a guide advanced into a room. Kenzo felt him bow.
"My lord," the man said respectfully, "the japanese ambassador is here."
"You may take off his blindfold," the young, low voice of the newly titled Sky Lord of Heuksa Chorong replied. "And leave."
One of his guards removed the black cloth band that covered his eyes, and Kenzo found himself in what seemed to be an elegant antechamber, lit by candlelight. In front of him, sitting at a table, Yeo Woon was writing his mail, and he didn't raise his head when his henchmen left the room, discreetly closing the doors behind them. The tip of the brush scraped against the paper. Kenzo remained silent, cautiously. The room exuded a strange, heavy, almost animal atmosphere. It seemed to him he had been introduced into the lair of a wild beast.
He said nothing. And neither did Yeo Woon.
x
To pass the time, he focused his attention on the decoration of the room he had been brought into. Obviously, it was not simply an antechamber, but rather a central living room. Yeo Woon was seated at a beautiful table, visibly glossy, made of dark elm wood, whose legs and edges had been carved with floral patterns. Kenzo recognized Chinese craftsmanship in the style of the furniture, and found it everywhere. Sandalwood chests, hand-painted, their satiny wood inlaid with gold and mother-of-pearl, mahogany cabinets, curios shelves, full of elegant and harmonious objects, among which Kenzo saw superbly executed porcelain vases and more unexpected statuettes, in the shape of animals or atypical forms, populated the room, giving it a deep and secret identity, while at the same time revealing certain aspects of its owner's personality.
Kenzo considered the place to be furnished with care and good taste, and admired the vaporous draperies hanging all around it, giving it a refined, almost unreal appearance, as would have been the quarters of some deity that had taken a human form, or those of a king or a prince. The delicate gleams produced by the candles were reflected on the surface of the decorated drawers, on the walls adorned with sophisticated tapestries, with remarkable and fine paintings, and with more personal, more revealing items.
On the table where Yeo Woon was writing, a stick of incense was being consumed in an extraordinary gold burner, depicting two dragons intertwined. Even without actually being near it, Kenzo could discern the detail of the creatures' scales, and the meticulous work that the craftsmen had done on such a decorative piece. He estimated it to be worth a fortune, more or less.
He turned his head, and saw that the room continued, slightly elevated, to the left. He could see no more, however, for the rest was hidden behind four-leaf screens, on which were depicted landscapes of a beauty and precision that would have made the shogun pale with envy. Yeo Woon didn't move from his chair, and his eyes detailed the contents of his letters, or those of others. Three piles of documents surrounded him. He would take the letters from the first one, read them, and if he signed them, he would put them on the second pile. The third was probably reserved for the correspondence he wrote.
Kenzo watched him, without a word, without a sound, for more than ten minutes. He quickly realized that the maneuver was being purposely deployed by the Sky Lord, and he went along with it the same way he had done with the rest. He had been taught patience, and over the years he knew he had become relatively good at the waiting game, especially those of that kind. Moreover, he was perfectly fine with contemplating Yeo Woon while the latter was not paying attention to him.
He was dressed casually, his bare shoulders covered with a transparent black silk dressing gown, sewn with gold embroidery, and he wore simple black pants that looked comfortable and natural, with hems that fell gracefully and lazily on his bare feet. His long, free, black hair cascaded in thick curls around his face. In the golden light of the flames, he was beautiful to look at, and at the same time as inaccessible as the drawing of a splendid woman on a master painting.
He finally finished handling his mail, and the sound of the brush on the paper stopped when he placed it in a small black porcelain jar that occupied the center of the table, next to the incense burner. He joined his hands together, placed his chin on his long entwined fingers, and finally deigned to lay his beautiful black eyes on Kenzo, who hadn't moved from where he stood.
The Sky Lord's gaze became scrutinizing, curious, as if he had no idea why the samurai was in his apartments. A new confidence was inscribed on the elegant features of his face. The glow of candles sparkled in his dark eyes.
"I got your message," he declared as an introduction, with as much neutrality as if he had made a banal remark about the weather outside. "You wanted an audience."
Kenzo nodded his head slightly, as a respectful confirmation.
"For what reason?" Yeo Woon asked, while his eyes were still staring at him, and Kenzo thought they resembled the eyes of tigers that suddenly focus on helpless prey.
Out of habit, he carefully calculated the risks and measured his options. He could beat around the bush, be vague and courteous, hoping that his attitude would eventually hit the mark, but while the strategy might have worked in another context, with another individual, he doubted that it would have any impact on the Sky Lord of Heuksa Chorong, who was raised for war and blood, and whose tendency was more toward raw truth than verbal tricks.
Moreover, Yeo Woon's face expressed neither compassion nor respect. If Kenzo tried to flatter him and wrap his desires under a layer of decorum, he would most likely be coldly dismissed. He could already feel that the rope he was walking on was thin, and it was quite likely to break at the first false step.
"You told me," he began slowly, cautiously, because the game was delicate and he had rarely had the opportunity to face opponents of this nature, "that you would accept a challenge if I so wished."
"Did I say that?" Yeo Woon looked almost surprised, as if he didn't remember, while the golden, icy glow of his eyes implied otherwise.
"You did," Kenzo confirmed to him, more to say something than out of genuine interest. "I took the liberty of addressing my request to you accordingly."
The Sky Lord replied with a dry, sharp smile. There was mockery in it, disdain, and an obvious insult.
"And you assumed that I would say yes?"
(bend the knee and submit that's what he wants bend the knee and submit)
"I wouldn't have dared to assume," Kenzo said. "I just hoped, that's all. You sent your men for me, you brought me here. It's up to you to do as you please. If you want me to go, I'll go."
He saw hesitation pass through Yeo Woon's eyes, a strange and new vulnerability, and a much more opaque displeasure. He pursed his lips, and his expression became both more angry and more fragile.
"It was you who suggested that it might be interesting to meet again," Kenzo reminded him, taking a gamble on his remark. "I'm here. One word from you, and you will recover the quietness of your apartments as if I had never come. You are the master."
He waited again, while the long, intertwined fingers of the Sky Lord twitched, while he pressed his hands against his lips and seemed to be struggling against something, an idea, an inner darkness, that Kenzo could neither see nor guess. A long sigh escaped him. He doesn't know what to do, Kenzo understood, and the realization amazed him, for it had seemed to him on the contrary when he had entered the room that Yeo Woon had made firm and definite plans.
"We didn't agree to anything," he then said, to push him to make up his mind. "I promise to leave if you ask, and none of this will ever be mentioned if we meet again."
His suggestion, by pointing out Yeo Woon's power and autonomy, helped him to decide and make a choice. The movement of his fingers ceased, and he looked up at Kenzo, with as much determination as an archer stopping to block a target in the distance.
"Stay," he ordered. "I've had a bath prepared on the other side of the screens. Take off your clothes and clean yourself. Then we'll see."
Kenzo didn't question his order, nor expressed any astonishment. He moved to the left, towards the part of the apartments that had been hidden until then. Turning his head toward Yeo Woon, he saw that the latter's eyes were fixed on the incense burner with the two dragons, and that he was caressing the tiny golden paws of one of them with his fingertips.
x
The water of the bath was still steaming when he entered it, stripped of his clothes and sword, and as vulnerable as an infant to any attack the Sky Lord of Heuksa Chorong could possibly foment against him. The bathtub was of considerable luxury, large and round, and of a beautiful dark shiny wood that was even comfortable against his back. The scent of incense had invaded the entire room, but the water smelled something else, something deeper, which Kenzo recognized as the smell of moist heated wood and heady fragrance extracts. He washed himself vigorously for about ten minutes, as Yeo Woon would have expected. He didn't say a word during the entire bath.
It was only when he had finished, and stood up naked to get out of the bathtub, that the Sky Lord appeared between the screens that delineated the living spaces. He was, for his part, still fully clothed. Kenzo stood still when he saw him, and Yeo Woon's eyes traveled all over his body from head to toe, giving him the unpleasant impression of being a horse examined for a sale, but also the softer, sweeter sensation of being admired like a statue, and recognized as good looking by a congener. Not for a moment did the gaze of the Sky Lord linger on any particular part of his body.
"Are you done?" he simply asked him.
"I think so," Kenzo admitted. "Do you have any specific preference criteria for bath duration? The water is still warm. I can take a dip a little longer if you think it's necessary."
Yeo Woon shook his head, and a smile appeared on his lips, more sincere than the previous one.
"That'll do," he decreed. "If you were to stay in that bathtub any longer, I'm afraid you'd end up turning into steam yourself."
"I could live with that," Kenzo replied with a shrug of his shoulders, feeling uncomfortable in spite of himself with the continuous observation of the leader of the guild. "Steam is freer than men."
"I didn't know you were a philosopher," Yeo Woon made fun of him, not without a certain stiffness nonetheless.
"All martial artists are," Kenzo answered. "It's our common lot. Fighting is a philosophy in itself."
The expression on Yeo Woon's face darkened. Kenzo reacted instinctively.
"I'm annoying you," he acknowledged. "I'm sorry."
"No," the Sky Lord quickly denied it. "Not at all. You're not annoying me at all."
They stayed perhaps a few moments without saying anything, or even daring to look at each other. There was something dense and tangible in the air all around them, and yet Kenzo had never felt it so oppressive or frightening.
"I'm going to get dressed," he announced finally, because he had no idea where the game was going and was unsure of what to do next.
"Leave your clothes here," Yeo Woon interrupted him. "Go to my bedroom. I'll join you right away."
Kenzo didn't move, and the shyness of a young man suddenly invaded him, with the violence of a hurricane.
"Well?" The Sky Lord grew impatient, and his voice was regaining its irritation.
"I don't know where your bedroom is," Kenzo confessed, naked, and more aware than ever that he was just a man without his clothes and his sword.
He thought that Yeo Woon would get tired of his passivity and send him away. It wasn't the case, however. Heuksa Chorong's leader smiled, almost gently this time, and Kenzo could glimpse in that slightly raised mouth the young boy he had been, years ago.
"Over there," he taught him by showing him the direction to follow with a casual gesture.
Kenzo complied and walked past him, brushing against the airy fabric of his robe.
"I'm coming," Yeo Woon said.
There was regret in his eyes, and like a mute supplication, one that would have said "Don't let me do this".
x
He joined Kenzo after what seemed like a long time, during which the samurai had been able to appreciate the decoration of the bedroom. A monumental bed, with an artistically carved and detailed canopy, occupied the room, while elegant, more sober, but beautifully crafted cupboards were scattered all around. An opulent vanity table had been placed against the wall facing the bed, and Kenzo noticed a brush on its surface, full of black hair.
Other draperies filled the room, and they were of a deep, bloody red, like the blankets and cushions of the bed. He didn't have time to examine them further. The Sky Lord stormed into the bedroom and, as Kenzo reflexively opened his arms to seize his waist and bent down to kiss him, believing it to be the right way to proceed, he felt a cold, thin hand pressed firmly against his mouth, and felt himself violently pushed backwards.
His legs hit the edge of the bed, and he collapsed on it, flabbergasted by the force Yeon Woon had put into his move, and dared not make the slightest gesture. Still standing, the leader of the guild threw on him a troubled look, impossible to decipher, which vaguely frightened him. He was breathing quickly, and his naked chest rose frantically. For a moment, and confronted with his black, fixed eyes, Kenzo feared he had lost his mind. The possibility was highly improbable and he would never have been able to explain it, but he thought about it no less.
He tried to straighten up, to reach him, but Yeo Woon rejected his touch and pushed him backwards forcefully with one hand. He fell back against the mattress, without understanding anything. The Sky Lord then straddled him with two skinny legs on either side of his hips, and Kenzo felt a hint of desire as he felt him close, but also an aftertaste of uncontrolled fear and uneasiness (there's something wrong).
He wanted to raise his hands, just to embrace Yeo Woon's thin naked waist, to feel his skin. He was unable to do so. The Sky Lord grabbed his wrists and blocked any access to his body, any attempt to touch him. The stratagem, however, forced him to bend forward to hold Kenzo's arms against the mattress, and they found themselves face to face, both panting, and Kenzo noticed, because he could see him up close now, that Yeo Woon's gaze was elsewhere, almost delirious. His black curls brushed against his cheeks and nose. Kenzo raised his chin to kiss him.
Immediately, Yeo Woon's hands let go of his wrists to press themselves against his mouth. Kenzo, taking advantage of his newfound freedom of movement, dryly grabbed the Sky Lord's waist and kicked under him, to push him onto his back. He felt like he was fighting. Yeo Woon's body didn't move an inch, his legs contracting desperately to stay where they were, with a strength that even Kenzo wouldn't have suspected in such a slender figure, as he kept his hands against the samurai's lips to keep him away from his face.
They struggled against each other in a disorderly and clumsy way, completely uncertain. Kenzo's lust had vanished, leaving only frustration and absolute incomprehension. I'm trying to make love to a tiger and it doesn't want me to, he thought while making a final attempt to overthrow Yeo Woon. He failed, unsurprisingly. Only then, weary, annoyed, and somewhat offended by this outright rejection, did he stop fighting.
He had learned patience, but also resignation. There were fights that weren't worth the effort, simply because you were at a disadvantage from the start, and Kenzo now knew that he was at a disadvantage, and that there was nothing he could do about it. Yeo Woon didn't want him, although he probably thought it could have happened, or wanted it for a short time. There was no point, then, in going on like this.
He let himself fall back against the mattress, and at the same time, the Sky Lord relaxed as well, loosening his grip. Kenzo glanced at him, and was horrified to see that Yeo Woon looked positively triumphant and horribly unhappy all at once.
He dislodged himself from his hips and lay down beside him on the mattress. They caught their breaths again, without saying anything to each other. Kenzo made a quick recap of his past experiences, and concluded that it was without a doubt the most abominable and disappointing of his entire existence. Nothing had been pleasant, and his arousal had faded away as soon as it woke up, replaced by discomfort and the vague impression of having been ridiculous.
I shouldn't have come, he thought, with growing bitterness. Yeo Woon, in spite of the looks he had given him earlier, had showed no sign of desire, not even the shadow of a possible interest. And the Sky Lord, lying next to him, was now laughing, and Kenzo found that his hilarity sounded like sobs.
"I don't understand," he said, breathing heavily because of their confrontation. "What's so funny?"
Yeo Woon was still giggling. He had put a hand over his mouth, muffling his laughter, but his jubilation persisted.
"Did I do something wrong?" Kenzo then asked, simply because he had to be sure, and needed a coherent answer.
"No," the Sky Lord replied, laughing, as he ran a hand through his hair with a grip so tight that Kenzo was afraid he would tear it out. "No, it wasn't you. I was stupid. I was so, so stupid."
"I don't understand," Kenzo repeated.
He felt lost. Something in his voice must have expressed it, because Yeo Woon gradually calmed down, and the samurai saw tears rolling down his face, but he couldn't tell if it was because of his laughter or because he was sad.
"You have nothing to understand," he asserted. "It's my fault. I made a mistake. I thought that..."
He seemed to be looking for his words, hesitating. Kenzo conceived a sharp exasperation about it.
"What?"
"I thought it would work, I really believed it," he continued, his eyes staring up at the canopy ceiling. "I thought I could do it this time. I made a mistake. I should never have sent for you."
"That's my opinion as well," Kenzo confessed dryly, while straightening up on his elbows.
Heuksa Chorong's leader looked at him with an expression that was neither compassionate nor repentant.
"I had a whim," he admitted. "It happens to me sometimes. But it would never have worked. I was stupid to believe otherwise. Please forgive me for giving you unnecessary hope. You may leave now."
He stood up, lethal, elegant, smiling, his robe denuding one of his shoulders, and left the room in a flutter of black silk without adding anything else, dismissing Kenzo as one would have demanded the departure of a servant. Anger and resentment left him suddenly, giving way to an overwhelming fatigue.
It's not my fault, he mused, looking at the ceiling of the canopy, his body beginning to cover itself with the marks characteristic of his struggle in bed with the Sky Lord, and his muscles throbbing.
x
He put his clothes back on without Yeon Woon speaking to him again. The latter had settled back at his table, but his mail having already been taken care of, he was now busy with something else, and all his attention was held by the golden incense burner whose execution Kenzo had admired a few moments earlier. A burning anger, nourished by humiliation, seized him when he saw him motionless, his hair and clothes perfectly in order, and silent, lost in contemplation.
"If I took this burner," he started. "If I were to take it, break it, hurt you with its splinters, would you end up feeling truly sorry for what just happened?"
Yeo Woon slowly turned his head towards him. His black eyes stared at him, gauged him, mocked him cruelly.
"You can try," he gently offered him, with a deliberate, calculated, cold and distant meanness. "Go ahead. You wouldn't be the first."
Kenzo saw the shine of the knife blade that was placed near the hand of the Sky Lord, on the smooth surface of the table.
"There will never be another dragon for you," he said then, in order to hurt him, to return the blows. "You are condemned to loneliness."
Yeo Woon smiled, voluptuously, with ferocious amusement.
"There is one," he answered softly. "You're not him, that's all."
(If you want a real fight, come to Hanyang)
"Baek Dong Soo?"
The Sky Lord's grin faded away, and Kenzo knew he had hit the nail on the head.
"And where is he, your other dragon?" He added, not out of jealousy, but because he had been raised for victory, and once he had spotted his opponent's weaknesses, he was determined to finish him off. "Why is it that despite his superiority, you allow sheep to visit your bed?"
"Get out," Yeo Woon ordered coldly.
There was no need to ask Kenzo twice, and he bowed with an exaggerated, disguised, articifial respect in front of Heuksa Chorong's leader. He was longing to escape.
x
He relievedly abandoned Yeo Woon to his illusions and secrets, and was taken home by the guild's assassins. They never spoke of that night again. They never spoke of the sheep, let alone the golden dragons wrapped around each other, and everything was lost in silence until Baek Dong Soo's sword pierced his flank and Kenzo finally understood.
(There is one. You're not him, that's all).