Red Fish, Blue Fish

by leanmeancuisine

Summary:

Park Jimin knew nothing but the life of a silk merchant and endless days of sneaking off to dance among courtesans. He never would have known that the one night he disobeyed the law and ended up working at the Market, was the night he’d become the obsession of an unpredictable and curious man.

For Park Jimin, a strange omega who’d known nothing but silk and dance, had captured the attention of the King. And it was that fateful night that would change Jimin’s world, entering nobility as a concubine called for by the King, only purpose being to serve him for the rest of his life.

OR (Short Version)

Park Jimin, a silk merchant, becomes a royal concubine to King Min Yoongi.

Chapter 1: Red Market

Park Jimin's mother, an old woman whose delicate features had begun to crease and wrinkle with age, sighed with lips taught as she fastened the ribbon on the inside of his pale yellow jeogori, tying the thicker ribbon on the outside portion into a neat bow. She straightened the length of his collar, tugging it to Jimin's right side. He stared at her with a loving, familial endearment, even as she slipped his white baeja over his jacket and tied the ribbon almost impossibly tight.

 

He grunted, shouting "eomma!" in annoyance. That slim face of hers was pulled into a humorous smile as she finished the knot and began to smooth his collar. 

 

The older woman's attire wasn't much different from his, besides the trousers (baji) he wore instead became a long skirt (chima). Their jeogori was extremely similar—as both being omegas, the jacket was a pale yellow, yet the women's variation tended to be a bit shorter than the men's, ending at the waist. 

 

His mother's long black hair was braided and fastened with a red daenggi, the same ribbon then used to fasten her hair in a loop and fixed to set against her head to showcase the red daenggi. A jade binyeo was used to hold it together, the stick laying horizontal—Jimin remembered her telling him the binyeo was an heirloom passed down from female omega to female omega, and that one day Jimin should give it to his daughter upon marriage. 

 

The older woman was small and frail, both feminine and dedicated. Time and work handled her roughly, the pointy ears ears atop her head and tail having dwindled and thinned like her skin. His father had always recalled her to be a beauty, though. By all means, she was considered a perfect wife: she bore two sons (one beta, one omega), was dedicated to maintaining the house, preparing meals, taking up weaving and embroidery, never to interfere with the laborious life of her husband and son.

 

Although it seemed a sad life to Jimin, she was happy, and that's all that mattered. She's a woman who's fulfilled her duties and seeks nothing more from life, satisfied that she has a husband who doesn't commit adultery and doesn't treat her like spoiled meat, satisfied that she's born a beta, satisfied she has an omega son to teach and care for. In the eyes of their crumbling society, she was a model wife. 

 

Female omegas are at the bottom of the barrel in the hierarchy of society, though. Of course, male omegas aren't exactly viewed any better, yet they are typically deemed to be better suited for the laborious life, selling whatever they can get a steady income on. Next came female betas, then male betas—these types would typically be seen working tirelessly at artisan jobs or strenuous activities. Female alphas and male alphas were at the top of the chain, as expected of the strong and bold individuals. These days few alphas are born, meaning their worth has only skyrocketed since most governmental officials were alphas. 

 

The slim fingers of his mother's hands skimmed across his forehead as she brushed back strands of hair, sighing as her smile faded into a pitiful frown. "Your poor hair," she pouted, slightly tugging on a wavy lock. 

 

His own smirk died, full lips settling into a dull line as he pushed his mother's fingers away to pull back his hair. "Do you think we can tie it yet?" Despite his hope, he knew from the way strands fell back in their place almost immediately through the cracks of fingers that it would be impossible. Even so, he managed to gather the longest strands—which was all located at the top of his head—and pinch his index finger and thumb around to create a small knot. 

 

Yet the woman merely huffed, smacking his hands away to fix his disheveled hair. "Tch, don't ruffle it up...why won't it grow faster? We feed you, uh? You're still growing yourself, yes?"

 

"It hasn't even been a month, eomma," the male omega tried to reason. "It's grown plenty. It should be ready to tie by winter."

 

"Winter, huh?!" She drops her hands with a scowl, stepping aside as her son reaches for his pale daffodil coat folded over a suspended wooden dowel, slipping his arms through the wide sleeves and straightening the stiff white collar. 

 

His mother, ever the doting type, fumbled to help tie the ribbon again as Jimin attempted to create a knot again, yet found it too short to do so. He sighed, lowering his hands as his mother finished the ribbon. 

 

Mood soured as he dwelled on his predicament, heart heavy with shame, he voiced his concerns. "They'll say I'm unfilial. Or a criminal. I'll tarnish our name, eomma."

 

"Aigoo, don't say things with such a heavy heart," her wise voice reassured, motherly hands fixing the creases along his torso and straightening any fine lines. "I've already spoken with the gossipy ones and instructed them to not speak on matters so heinous. They're mothers like me, and with just a word of imagining it happening to their own children did they stop their rambling." Gathering up her navy chima when she stepped back as to not trip, her face fell into a pitying glance. "And if anyone else gives you foul looks, tell them your hair burnt to a crisp when you stood too close to a candle. The courtesans certainly won't mind."

 

Pouting, Jimin watched as his mother glided to a dark dresser to his right, opening the top drawer and pulling out a wide piece of white silk. When she stopped in front of Jimin, she carefully slid the fabric under his bangs to rest against his forehead, looping her arms around him to tie it at the base of his skull. The male omega could feel the hair on the sides of his head tucked beneath the fabric, allowing for only the bangs framing his face to be shown. His mother adjusted the silk, straightening out the corners, before stepping back to assess him.

 

"You're just going to the courtesan house to drop off their silks and coming back, right? Don't stall longer than you need to. Stop lingering among them, Jimin-ah, you're sangmin not cheonmin," she glared, speaking on terms of the class system. In their society, yangban were considered nobility, chungin the middle class, sangmin the commoners, and cheonmin, the outsiders. 

 

Jimin merely scoffed at his mother. "I might as well become a kisaeng if the artisan's son chooses to call off our marriage," he mumbles.

 

He couldn't tell whether his mother wanted to slap him or turn away in anger. Either way, she reached to grab a pointy ear, to which he stood on his toes to avoid. 

 

"Aish, just go already. I've seen enough of you this morning," the old woman spat, stomping to the wooden door and pushing it open. Almost instantly a harsh wind slams against Jimin's back, ruffling his bangs. He clicked his tongue against his teeth and heaved a sigh, before turning and ducking under the doorframe to step on to the wooden deck.

 

It's been about a month since his eighteenth birthday, the harsh winds of the mountains beginning to make their way to the capital as autumn comes to a close and winter begins. Although the thick coat does well to block the wind, it didn't stop Jimin from crossing his arms with a shiver, squinting as icy air hits his eyes.

 

"Be back by noon, Jimin-ah," his mother calls behind him as he steps down from the deck and on to the gravel, exposed to the morning sun. 

 

"I'll see you at dinner, eomma," he called instead, heading towards the rooms to the left of the central housing where him and his mother slept. 

 

"I'm serious, Jimin-ah! Don't spend unnecessary time at the courtesan house!" She yelled.

 

"Yes~" he sang back, ignoring his mother's calls until he heard her slam the door shut. 

 

The hanok Jimin and his family lived in was box-shaped, a large gate at the front with rooms closing in to create a decently sized courtyard, just big enough to fit three to four horses (which Jimin only knew because of the time a horse broke through their gate and made home in his home). It was just big enough to hang laundry to dry, just big enough for Jimin and his brother to run around when they were children. During the warmer days of early spring, when their booth at the market was slow and his father was the only one who needed to run it and there were few orders to deliver, Jimin tends to find himself stretched out on a linen sheet, soaking up the soft sun rays. His mother would always yell at him for being lazy, but would give in herself to laying down for a few minutes to enjoy the soft breeze. 

 

Although the closed-in hanok was meant to keep heat insulted during the icy winter days, Jimin always found wind to make its way inside anyways, defeating the entire purpose of a box-shaped hanok. During the nights it was powerful enough to make the boxed lanterns clang against their wooden posts, powerful enough to rattle the doors and windows with hanji, a waterproof paper placed on almost all the interior walls. Thankfully enough, the wall lining the gate was composed of stone blocks, high enough to block the sight of any citizens walking the street.

 

When looking at their home from the front gate, to the right (Jimin's left) was where they housed their silks and out of season clothes. It's the same room the three men of the family organized their orders and counted their product, so Jimin's father had always called it the "money making room." If a fire were to ever start in that room, they would be ruined.

 

The rooms looking straight in from the gate, where Jimin had walked out of, housed the two separate rooms the family slept in. His father and brother slept in one room, his mother and him in the other, as to keep the two subgenders separate and to their respected spaces as to not disturb the others when a heat or rut hits. 

 

The building to the left housed the kitchen and the anbang, a room where his mother often retreated to as the head omega of their small family. It was the furthest away from the main gate and always locked, the key in the possession of his mother since it held their most valued items. Despite being her family, Jimin himself found it hard to ever receive permission to go inside, a mystery he never knew why to. 

 

Jimin could feel the gravel crumble beneath his shoes as he stepped onto the wooden deck once more, pushing open the door leading to the silk room. 

 

Once the door was shut behind him, Jimin looked around the wide room. Despite being a room mainly used for their trade, Jimin found it to be one of his favorites—the wooden floors were warm and perfectly smoothed, the sun hitting the hanji in just the right way so it casted beautiful shadows against the walls. The ceiling was high and the windows brought the most light out of all the rooms in their hanok, making the colorful silks seem all the more dazzling and divine. 

 

The room itself was filled with neat stacks of silks, carefully folded as to lessen any creasing and organized by color, size, and type—being embroidered or plain—. Jimin's father had always prided himself on the fact that the silks were of the highest quality, having been bought in bordering Empires that specialize in silk making. Their product was popular among chungin and occasionally yangban, but their most profitable buyers had always been the courtesan house. 

 

To the right of the room, where there was no door not windows, hung a beautiful ink painting depicting the story of the vermillion bird. Illustrated on the large canvas was a bird flying over harrowing mountains, color slowly draining into the landscape to follow the bird's path, symbolizing the bird blessing the land with prosperity. The painting had been a precious heirloom passed down from Park to Park, yet lost its worth over the years, so much so as to not even be placed in the anbang for protection from the sun. 

 

His eyes lingered on the smooth curves detailing the face of the vermillion bird, before his eyes flickered to a large woven basket holding a pile of colorful silks. He dropped into a low squat, opening up a wooden drawer to drag out a cotton linen to wrap around the basket to make it easier to grip, tying it at a knot at the top and gripping it before hoisting it up. Although it wasn't particularly heavy, the order was quite large, requiring Jimin to carry it with both hands. 

 

The walk to the gate was short and simple, yet Jimin stalled on reaching out to grab the latch. He didn't know what to expect, how to mentally prepare himself—he hadn't been outside ever since that fateful night two days after his eighteenth birthday. He stared at his outreached palm, eyes following the pink scar running from the bottom of his index finger all the way down to the left side of his wrist, line jagged and thick to reflect the grotesque way the knife had been dragged across his skin. The same scar was on his left hand, too, yet his right healed far more slowly. How morbid, that night was—Jimin could still feel the pain of the blade slicing through his hand the same time a knife was doing away with his long hair, nicking the tip of his fluffy ear in the process.

 

Would people notice the scars? Surely, if he hid them well enough, no one would care enough to glance. The same thing couldn't be said for his hair, but, well, he's already grieved that loss. Of course, he still grieved the damage it would do to his family, but for the most part he had already crossed that bridge and kept on walking. 

 

Shaking his head of such thoughts, Jimin gripped the metal ring and pulled the door open, slipping outside and slamming it shut before he could drop the basket of silks. 

 

The village he lived in was right next to the capital, allowing for easy transportation of no more than an hour to and from. Jimin himself only occasionally traveled to the market, really only during busy days to bring an order his father may have forgotten, but never to man the booth himself. Usually, his father and brother manned the booth at the market—sometimes even sleeping in their own shop on days so long and so busy it would be an incredible waste of time and money to travel the hour it takes to get back home for the night. Jimin wasn't allowed to stay the night in the booth with them, as being a young and unmarried omega, so on days when his father and brother were at the market he'd spend time at home with his mother, deliver late orders, or even sneak off to the courtesan house.

 

Luckily, it seemed very few of his neighbors were out and about to start their day. It was rare to see omegas walking alone as Jimin was, the lesser gender usually in pairs as to avoid squabbles with betas or alphas, so all Jimin had to do on his way to the courtesan house was bow his head to the old married ladies on their morning walk and continue his path.

 

The courtesan house was about a middle ground between the capital and the village, taking no longer than a twenty five minute walk through the rest of the village and a small winding path through the forest to reach the destination. Although there was another courtesan house in the center of the capital, the one Jimin frequented for his deliveries was among the most popular in the entire Empire. It was located in the perfect traveling distance between the capital and several different villages housing the yangban and the jungin, making it a popular place to call upon for entertainers in a social gathering.

 

Walking down the frigid trail, alone with his thoughts and the consistent tweets of birds, Jimin reflects on the days he spent at the courtesan house. His childhood friend, a fellow neighbor and child of a merchant, had been sold into the kisaeng class at a young age due to her family's bankruptcy. He wasn't permitted to see her for the years following her training, up until he hit puberty and was allowed to make deliveries. 

 

The day he made his first delivery was the day he first witnessed a dance by a true entertainer. The courtesan house had a large courtyard where the kisaeng would practice their art, fans or swords held high in one hand while their skirt was delicately held by the other as they glided to a count by a higher level kisaeng. Jimin could clearly remember standing by the gate, eyes peeled open in amazement, completely enthralled by their careful maneuvers and graceful steps. He recalled trailing their swords anytime they got the sunlight, steady beams flashing along the ground, as if painting the stone floor in a field of glowing crystals. 

 

When their dance came to a close, a sudden itch sparked in Jimin's chest. He wanted to dance like them. It was an odd passion, an odd desire, but in that moment all he cared for was dancing. The four words he said after greeting his old friend were "teach me to dance."

 

Ever since then, he'd extend his stay at the courtesan house when making his deliveries to dance with the kisaeng, enchanted by their every move and filled with a hopeful desire to repeat their actions. He wouldn't spend too long overstaying his welcome—not that the courtesans minded—in fear that his parents would forbid him from making deliveries there, yet his mother found out eventually anyways. She'd berate him for wasting his time and mingling among a lower class willingly, yet didn't have the heart to stop him altogether. When he danced alone in their room and she'd stand and watch, all she could do was softly smile after each and every finished performance, praising how he'd be the perfect husband. 

 

The thought of being a married omega left a soured taste in Jimin's mouth as he passed by the same crooked tree he'd always pass when going to the courtesan house. It's not that his fiancé was a terrible man, or that he loved another, but... the prospect of marrying so young and to someone he had little romantic affection for felt odd. He knew his parents went through the same process, yet Jimin never saw marriage as something he should be thankful and proud of. He didn't mind living with his family for forever, helping with the trade and making deliveries for the rest of his life. Yet the pride of most families came in the form of healthy children, and Jimin found himself unable to disappoint his parents. He wanted them to be happy with him, satisfied in the omega son they've raised. It's why he's kept his virtue for so long, ignoring the mutual attraction he had for his beta neighbor when he was younger. The omega had learned to be hopeless for love and just listen to what his parents ask of him. Remain the perfect, beautiful son they've lived and loved for.

 

Of course, his loyalty to his parents didn't mean he doesn't have thoughts of running away. He often wondered what would have happened if he became a kisaeng, sent to a life of entertaining others. He wondered if his beauty and grace would land him in the palace, or if he'd catch the eye of an old general who would like to sponsor him for his time. He wondered if he'd enjoy the freedom to dance and perform, or if he'd hate being tied to such a low class with little actual freedoms, forever tied as government property. They were fruitless thoughts, sure, but the fantasy of one day getting to dance freely was fulfilling enough.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

"Jimin-ah, your hair!!!" his dear friend screeched.

 

Jimin flinched, head bowing in shame as he felt Kim Jisoo, his closest friend and widely popular kisaeng, rummage her fingers through his hair. She would gently pull on the short strands, stunned at the length. Her frail hands then traveled to his furry ears, rubbing at the nick in the flesh of his left one. 

 

When he winced, skin still sore, Jisoo retracted her shaky hands. Covering her saddened face with a small smile, she then grabbed his hands, rubbing her thumbs along his knuckles.

 

Yet her smile began to falter, her eyes growing focused and fingers rubbing with a bit too much intent along his palms. Just as Jimin realized what she was doing, it was too late to pull back—she gripped his wrists and flipped his palms upward.

 

A strangled gasp left her throat at the horrid sight. Jimin let his hand hand in the air as she brought her own to her mouth, trying to muffle a sob. 

 

He winced again as her hot tears plopped onto his skin, leaving a wet trail as they followed every crease and line. 

 

"Jimin-ah!" She whined, finger violently trembling as she traced a freshly healed scar with her finger. His nerves tingled with the contact, not used to being treated with such dainty care. "Jiminie..." Jisoo spoke a bit softer.

 

Pulling his hands back, he feigned a smile for the courtesan. "It's not so bad. I work with my hands anyways, no one expects them to be perfect."

 

She only frowned. "Yes, but... everyone loved your hands..."

 

That jab went straight to his heart, memories of evil smiles and wicked eyes carving into his skin chanting how beautiful his hands were. He knew his friend meant well, but the comment would never fail to make him quiver. I suppose I must learn how to respond, if this is my near future...

 

His airy voice was nothing but a mask as he said, "Ah, don't worry about it. It's impolite for strangers to touch hands anyways, I can just decline any advances to see my hands from now on."

 

Jisoo pointed but wiped her tears nonetheless. "Who did this too you? Come on, tell noona. I'll have the general who requests me most to—"

 

"No need, no need," he rushed to say, gathering the fallen basket in his hands once again, sliding the handle to the crook of his elbow in order to rub one of Jisoo's dark ears, chuckling as it flicked and twitched in defiance to his touches. Usually touching someone's ears who isn't family nor your mate is extremely disrespectful, yet between close omegas the casual strokes and pets were forgiven. Jisoo, who lived a life of her ears being touched without consent, only let herself relax under the petting of Jimin. Even then, the initial signs of discomfort were present in those ear flicks, but even Jimin could feel the sturdy ears ease into his grip. 

 

Jisoo tutted him, leading the boy further in to courtesan house, down a gravel path that crunched beneath their feet. Few other kisaeng were out and about, mainly attending to their duties or idly chatting. 

 

Most kisaeng were eloquently dressed, rivaling the beauty of nobles. While all kisaeng were omegas, the attire varied very little. They wore ornate and finely designed jeogori over colorful trousers or chima (depending on their primary gender), their hair adorning gache, a type of prestigious wig, with priceless jewels and materials woven throughout. While Jisoo had forgone the gache due to her free schedule, her hair was still delicately braided with silks and tied together with a jade hair stick. The girl herself wore a bright fuchsia chima, alongside the typical yellow jeogori. 

 

 Standing next to such a rare beauty Jimin has never felt more insecure, but he couldn't understand any scenario where anyone would feel otherwise. Jisoo radiated desirability and youth, her delicate features defining a face blessed by the gods. Next to Jimin, in all his normalcy and butchered look, she seemed to glow even brighter. 

 

"I promise, when I find out who did this to you, I won't hesitate to send the generals out for their heads. Who would dare mess with a precious friend of the courtesan house...monsters, devils, they are..." she scowled, huffing as she hiked up her skirt to step onto the raised platform. Jimin chuckled at her display of anger, following her on to the deck.

 

Jisoo opened the sliding doors to the storage room, stepping aside to let Jimin set down the basket of silks. 

 

"I'll get the haengsu for you, one moment," Jisoo said, before bounding off to find the leader of the courtesan house.

 

Cho Yeojeong, leader of the kisaeng, was a smart and well educated woman who directed her apprentices well. Although she was noble-born, the poor omega had been casted aside after her family found out she was impregnated by a mere commoner. She was subjected to cruel treatment, leading to an unfortunate miscarriage, but along her journey she met the right people at the right time and assumed power within the courtesan world. With her leadership came knowledge of politics and economics, leading the courtesan house to success within the empire.

 

Jimin sighed, crouching to smooth out wrinkles on the silk. His ears twitched to and fro at every little sound, tuning in to the rhythmic chirping of birds and the occasional crunch of gravel beneath soft footsteps. 

 

His gaze caught his hands for a bit too long, momentarily stopping his ministrations enough to turn the limbs palm up. Jimin dragged his eyes across each and every scar, tracing with his eyes the way the skin raised and flattened, flushed an angry pink. 

 

Thinking too much about the scars gave him chills, because innocent staring led to deep concentration, and that led to vivid memories... in the past month, Jimin thought too much on what could have gone differently if he took a different route, or if he just declined his mother's offer. He often wondered what he did in the past to receive such bad karma, yet...who ever deserved to be treated like this. His hair, his filial devotion to his parents, gone in a flash. His hands, remarked for their graceful beauty, marred with such unsightly wounds no one would dare to glance.

 

Clenching his fists and shaking his head, Jimin decided to stand and wait patiently for the haengsu and Jisoo, filling his mind of dinner and when he could see his father and brother next.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

Jimin followed along with the kisaeng as they practiced their dance, standing in the back as to not disturb their formation. There were few who played instruments, plucking away at zithers and other string instruments, some playing flutes or beating drums. The kisaeng who danced held two fans, swaying and spinning their bodies to the winds and flicking their fans outward to reveal bright patterns upon a heavy hit from the percussions. 

 

He found himself immersed in the way his heart felt anytime he spun or collapsed to the ground, only to strike up again in profound brilliance as the tempo sped up and the drums quickened their pace. Jimin followed Jisoo, a talented dancer who was trained at the gyobang, a prestigious center that educated highly trained kisaeng in dance and music to then be presented in royal courts. Jisoo happened to be one of the few who was granted the ability to perform in front of royals, yet her performances are sparse given the state of the political scene. Even so, she perfected every little movement, leaving no room for mistake. It made her the epitome of a great example for Jimin to follow, allowing him to pick up dances easily. 

 

He spun with an arm extended, illustrating the scene of a young wolf being tricked by a goblin. His form cowered, percussions and winds settling for a heartbreaking depiction of a wolf drowning in sorrow, before a strong beat sent his arm flying in the air, coordinated and strong. He followed his arm, seeming as if his body was pulled upward by invisible guidance, leaping and spreading his fans across his chest. 

 

By the time the music settled, dancers taking their closing positions on their knees with their fans shielding their face, Jimin was panting and struggling to control his breathing. He collapsed on to his back when the finally beat dropped and the kisaeng were relieved of their positions, stretching his aching shoulder due to the intensity of his form whilst dancing.

 

One thing the kisaeng had an upper hand on was breath control and practice. Although Jimin could create a carbon copy of the dance, perfect in every angle, he lacked breath control and stamina. He often wondered how much better he'd be if his mother would give him the time to practice, but he knew those hopes were damning. 

 

"Did you have fun, Jimin-ah?" Jisoo said, slightly out of breath as she bowed above him, blocking the sun from his face.

 

Cracking his eyes open, Jimin breathed, "Who wouldn't?"

 

Jisoo chuckled, extending her hand to hoist Jimin up. When the omega was upright, Jisoo busied herself with brushing the gravel from his back. "Are you leaving now?"

 

He signed, frowning as he politely handed her his fans. "I should, mother asked me to be back by noon."

 

"It's far past noon," Jisoo snorted.

 

Shrugging, he gathered his empty basket and pouch of coins. "Yes, well, it's better than arriving in time for dinner."

 

Her laugh was light and airy as she agreed, walking with Jimin back to the entrance of the courtesan house.

 

"I heard the King will be arriving tomorrow night, so the village is having a festival to celebrate his return," she said.

 

Jimin whipped his head to her in surprise. "My village?" 

 

Jisoo quirked an eyebrow, but nodded nonetheless. "Mmh, all villages surrounding the capital will be celebrating, but the King and his army will be traveling through yours since they come from this direction. They will be riding through on horses, I believe. We were victorious after all," she noted. "I believe they will be setting up decorations in the morning."

 

He nodded. "Will you be performing at the capital upon his arrival?"

 

The girl sighed. "No, but apparently no courtesans will be allowed within the palace for a while. At least not to perform in front of the king and queen. I heard the Queen is sick again, but the only way they'd confirm that is if he were to die."

 

Jimin frowned but understood, knowing how tightly controlled information regarding the monarchs was. 

 

It then dawned upon him that he wouldn't be able to attend the festival, given how easily rumors would spread about his hair and hands. Although his mother had managed to let a handful of other mothers and fathers to quiet down on their talk, that wouldn't ensure a single soul wouldn't start anything. And to present himself in front of the king with cut hair and marred hands, as the son of prominent silk merchants...he would be shunned. A disgrace upon society. They would talk about what crimes he committed, how he embarrassed his family. 

 

It left a sour taste in his mouth as he bowed to Jisoo at the gate of the courtesan house. 

 

"Be safe on your way back, okay? I'm sure we'll need another delivery soon, given the way we've been practicing lately," his friend said with a sad smile. It wasn't often that he'd get the chance to visit the courtesan house, given the only time he was allowed to venture far from his village was to make deliveries. Nonetheless, he was grateful for Jisoo's persistence kindness and friendship, considering how little he managed to see her in a year. 

 

Jimin returned her smile. "Of course. I look forward in making another delivery," he said, bowing once more before turning to head down the empty path once again.

 

He briefly wondered why his mother didn't tell him about the welcoming festival, ears twitching and tail curling in curiosity. Perhaps to keep his hopes low on being able to participate? To let him finish healing before letting him out in to the public? Of course, he hadn't roam the streets of his village in a month, but his energy was dying to escape in a social setting. Caging an active dog has never ended well, and after so long he was feigning for interaction. Talking with Jisoo and dancing helped with his excess energy, but there was far too much to contain. 

 

Should I run? The sun will be setting soon, and I have to be back in time... Despite the cold, Jimin began to sprint, clutching his basket tight and taking a deep breath before breaking out into a light run, enjoying the icy wind that nipped at his neck and rustled through his tail. The ribbon tied around his head began to come undone, to which he reached up and shed, bunching the fabric in his hand. 

 

The freedom he felt in that moment was rewarding enough for the time he spent unwillingly in solitude, trying to remember a time before his hair was cut and his palms marred. 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

Fortunately or unfortunately enough, Jimin couldn't decide, but that night his elder brother and father came home with hardened faces. 

 

His father had strained himself when lifting heavy boxes of silk in their booth at the capital, ultimately spraining his lower back and limiting his mobility. Although Jimin was worried for his father, given his aging and lengthy time doing strenuous tasks, he couldn't pass this opportunity up.

 

"Let me go with Taemin-hyung to the booth tomorrow, there's no way appa can work it in this state," he said with a concerned expression but excited emotion. 

 

Throwing him a glare, his mother said, "What are you saying? Going to the capital like tha—"

 

"He's not wrong, though," Taemin came to his defense. Jimin almost slipped his disguise to flash him a smile. "There's no way I can do it alone, and we can't pass up on the opportunity for the festival."

 

Directing her anger to Taemin now, his mother spat, "How do you expect to cover his hair, huh? Your brother was attacked, Taemin-ah, he doesn't need to be targeted again." Although she meant well, Jimin flinched at the mention of what happened.

 

His brother huffed. "He will wear appa's hat. I will man the front, he will organize orders and document payments. He will be staying in the back the entire time, too."

 

Mouth settling into a hard line, their mother sighed, shaking her head. "No. Jimin-ah cannot go. Besides, omegas aren't allowed to run booths anyways, don't put him in the spotlight more than he already is."

 

Their father was silent the entire time, silently rubbing his lower back and watching the encounter. When Jimin and Taemin shared a sad look, mouths pulled into a frown, their father broke the atmosphere with a playful laugh. 

 

"Ah, just let him go, Sangeun-ah. Taemin-ah will protect him. They can even pull the curtain down to hide the back, Jiminie won't be seen," he said with a timid smile. Their mother glared at him, seeming at war with herself. 

 

She then scowled, giving in to their attempts. "Fine. Do whatever you want. I'm not responsible for what happens." 

 

A flutter of happiness flourished in the pit of his stomach, sending warmth to his chest as he launched himself across the low dining table, wrapping his arms around his mother's neck to smother her in kisses. 

 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" 

 

Whining in defiance, she eventually stopped struggling against his movements, letting herself relax and allow Jimin to get his energy out. Taemin and his father laughed, scraping up the last of their food before helping to gather the dishes. 

 

"You better go to sleep early, I'm not waking you up in the morning..."

 

"Of course, eomma~" he smiled, before sitting back and taking his family's dishes over to the kitchen to clean. 

 

Jimin could hardly contain his excitement that night, restlessly trying to sleep but being unable to due to the knowledge of what's to come.

 

Finally. Finally, I can run the booth with Taemin-hyung.  

 

He couldn't be happier knowing his family trusted him enough to step deeper into the life of a merchant at such a young, especially for being an omega. 

 

His dreams were filled with fantasies of running the booth alone with his brother, paying to mind to marriage nor societal chit-chat. Just him, his brother, and selling goods. 

 

It's all he could ever want.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

Life as a merchant was harder than it seemed.

 

It wasn't even noon when Jimin found himself breathless, breaking out into a sweat from lifting different carts of silk to and fro. His ears itched from where they poked through the hat, far too big for the customized holes made to fit his father's smaller ears. He wasn't used to the bigger jeogori he was forced to wear, either. It was his brother's, a deep blue color to signify his standing as a beta, but due to their differing sizes Jimin found the top falling to his thighs rather than his waist. He must've looked like a child wearing their elder sibling's clothes, the way he waddled back and forth in the uncomfortably fitted attire.

 

Either way, it was exciting. Jimin had managed to sneak glances at fellow merchants setting up their own booths, other citizens asking before hanging decorations across the tops of the wooden frames. There was a soju merchant handing out free crates to drink during the festival, idly chatting with Taemin on how they expect to see more nobles coming down from their esteemed estates to gaze at the merchandise. 

 

By midday, Jimin had settled in a small chair to write down inventory and orders, occasionally standing to pass Taemin a set of specific silks they had on hand. His elder brother would peek past the closed curtain from time to time to check in on the omega, but he mostly took care of talking up their merchandise to interested customers. Listening to him up close like this made Jimin appreciative for his brother's social skills. Moving from casual conversation to quality of fabrics and thread count seemed to be a speciality of his, and before Jimin knew it, a third of their stock had been sold or set aside to be cut and delivered by the time the sun was highest in the sky. 

 

Taemin peeled back the curtain, yawning as he stretched and moved to take the list Jimin had made of their total inventory and orders. He whistled, seemingly shocked at such a turnout. 

 

"You take far better note of everything than I do...and look how much we've made so far!" He exclaimed, pulling out a pouch dangling from his waistband. It seemed to be stuffed with coins, the sharp edges creating defined outlines along the cloth. Jimin sheepishly blushed, smiling at the compliment. "Aish, you must be the lucky charm we needed..."

 

"It's not that good, really," he waved off. Besides, he had a feeling Taemin was talking up their sales in order to make him feel better, especially since it is his first time helping. "And it's because of the festival we've had more orders. I'm sure by nightfall sales will triple..." he trailed off, eyes catching on a form past the curtain that was nosing at the few silks on display. "Shouldn't you be watching the front?"

 

Taemin's eyes widened, head whipping around as he stomped and threw the curtain back, surprising a ragged man that had grabbed the corner of a silk, seemingly trying to steal it.

 

"Yah!" His brother yelled, chasing after the man who took one of the display silks. Jimin himself was stunned but laughed his nerves off, peeking around the watch his brother run after the man, eventually managing to grab him by the collar and rip the silk square out of his hand, yelling and hollering to draw attention to the thief. Curious merchants looked over their booths and onto the path, muttering amongst themselves at the spectacle.

 

Jimin jumped as a deep and rough voice asked, "Shall I call for guards?"

 

Whipping his head to the stranger, Jimin jumped back, chills running up his spine and ears flattening against his head. The stranger was masked in dark robes, a formal gat upon their head and a thin piece of black silk hiding his face. Red and gold beads hung from the gat, and the hanbok he wore surpassed the elegance of any noble he's witnessed before in his little exposure. His pointy ears were hidden as well, shielded by a thin veil. Jimin immediately thought he was a general, given his sturdy stance and the two swords poised at his hips.

 

Gulping, Jimin shook his head, tilting his chin down to hide his features and hair. "No, he has it under control, thank you, sir." His voice briefly trembled, uncertain of how formal he should be. 

 

The man seemed to watch him for a moment, air tense and filled with static. Jimin felt like he couldn't breathe, holding his breath and waiting for the man to walk away so he could cower in to his booth again. 

 

Raising his gaze to see if the man was still watching him, he quietly looked away again upon catching his gaze.

 

"Are you—"

 

"So sorry! I stepped away for a moment to deal with a thief," Taemin laughed, swooping in at the perfect time. He glided in front of Jimin, shielding him with his taller frame and broad shoulders, lightly pushing him back and tugging the curtain closed. Jimin stood there with a pounding heart, closing his eyes as his pulse thudded in his throat. "Are you looking to buy some silks? We have a wide variety, all products directly carried from—"

 

"No," the man cut him off bluntly. "I was just looking." 

 

Taemin nervously chuckled, seeming bow in bidding farewell. "I'm glad we've caught your attention, then. If you're ever in need of silks, don't hesitate to stop by!"

 

There was a few moments of silence before Taemin scowled, brushing back the curtain but remaining on the other side. Jimin snaps his head up, breathing a little more under control. 

 

His brother looks him up and down, able to smell his bitter anxiety. "Are you alright? Sorry, I didn't mean to leave the curtain open..."

 

Jimin rushes to shake his hands and head. "No, no, I'm fine, don't worry about me. You caught the thief and the silk, right?"

 

Taemin frowned, but nodded. "I let some other people handle it, that guy seemed to belong to a group of generals." He reaches and tosses the silk display square on to a nearby rack, not caring as it promptly fell to the dirty ground, spoiled forever. "Can you cut a new square?"

 

Nodding, Jimin busied himself with unrolling more of the cloth, fitting it to size and carefully running a sharp knife along straight lines to create the perfect square. Without even pulling the curtain back, he poked his brother and waited for him to take the square from his hand, before he resumed his position on the small stool.

 

His time went on just like that, fixing up orders by cutting the appropriate length and setting the silks aside in a neat pile. Taemin would briefly step into the back to see how Jimin was doing, yet the market seemed to be buzzing with life as the day went on and the sky darkened.

 

Laughter and music began to fill the market air, streets well lit with lanterns that glowed an orange-yellow hue. Streamers and banners hung in every direction, red and gold tassels hung from string to represent their nation's colors. 

 

At some point, Taemin dragged the display shelf back into the storage room to eat with Jimin, briefly discussing what to expect that night sales-wise. 

 

Once lunch was over and the sun began to set, the Red Market became filled with a vigorous life, sales picking up tenfold of what they were during the afternoon. Jimin found himself getting exhausted with how often he was standing and sitting, rushing to gather an order of jot something down. 

 

It wasn't until customer's and Taemin's voice went quiet that Jimin grew worried. He stood, cautiously traveling to the curtain and peeking out.

 

Only to see Taemin vacant.

 

His heart hammered against his sternum, panic filling the young omega as he scanned the display shelf. Luckily, it looked like none of the items were stolen, but as his eyes roamed the surroundings he couldn't spot a lick of his elder brother. 

 

With growing adrenaline and concern for the booth, Jimin tightened the hat around his head and flicked his ears, before he exited from behind the curtain and took his place at the front of the booth. 

 

Jimin spent the next few minutes occasionally talking with a customer, onlookers much less keen to come up to the booth with how nervous Jimin seemed. He gnawed on his lip looking for his brother, minutes turning into an hour with no sign of his brother.

 

It wasn't like he could leave the booth alone for the night to go look for Taemin. Not only did Jimin not know his way around the Red Market, but leaving the silks open and vulnerable meant trouble. He instead favored manning the booth himself, trying to ignore his concern as it grew busier and busier.

 

Taemin can handle himself. Wherever he went, I'm sure he's safe, he tried to reassure himself. It was the only way he could grow his confidence enough to shout and talk up his product like the rest of the merchants, repeating Taemin's lines of praise and approval for their silks.

 

"What is an omega doing in beta's clothing?" A familiar voice called. 

 

Jimin gasped, once again faced with the general from before. This time, his eyes seemed to glow a solid gold color, emphasized by the festive atmosphere and warm lighting. Immediately lowering his gaze, Jimin stuttered, "I'm sorry, sir, it was never my intention to hide who I am. I was merely aiding my brother with the booth," he was quick to explain. 

 

The general looked around, as if searching for Taemin. "And where has your brother run off to again?"

 

"I'm—I'm not sure, sir. He lef-left a while ago and has not returned." It felt like his heart was in his throat, frightened at the prospect of being caught as an omega independently running a booth within the infamous Red Market. 

 

Instead of scrutinizing him, the general merely hummed. "Would you care for my help, then? I know a thing or two about marketing," he said lowly.

 

Swallowing, Jimin looked around, almost hoping for his brother to jump out and save him like he did hours prior. With no sign of Taemin, Jimin nervously bit his cheek and nodded, tugging the hat further down his head. The general tracked the movement, eyes squinting a bit, almost as if he could see the blunt ends of his hair. 

 

"Of course, sir, I'd appreciate any help," he said, even if a bit begrudgingly. This would've been his moment to shine, a moment to prove that omegas could run a booth smoothly without any trouble.

 

Yet it seemed a day without misogyny was not today, for the general's eyes seemed to squint with mirth this time, seemingly hiding a smile behind his veil. "Perfect." 

 

He came around the display table, standing to Jimin's right and a step behind. Although he obviously had the upper hand compared to Jimin, as being an alpha and a general, it seemed the man was more keen on observing Jimin and viewing how he handled himself.

 

Taking a deep breath, Jimin shook his head to waved any nerves as he replaced his stern expression with a smile. 

 

Anyone who caught his eye he flashed teeth, wanting to pull them in with his dazzling beauty. Few ignored him, quickly adverting their gaze to continue walking, while others were attracted to his charm. With so many smells permeating the air it would be impossible for anyone to tell he was an omega (how the general figured it out, who knows), which is why the group that ignored him was so few in numbers. When selling something, it's most important to radiate a welcoming and proud aura. Taemin had always said it would make customers see you as confident in your product, drawing them in to view what the seller was so gleeful about offering.

 

Anyone who stepped up eyed the general warily, wondering why such a person of high standing would be aiding a beta in silk sale, yet Jimin quickly brushed past their concerns by idly sliding into their conversation how many thieves have tried pocketing a piece of their display. They would nod with surprised eyes before eyeing the silk display, the idea already planted that the silks were of high enough quality to be stolen. Although Jimin was confident that their silks were of the highest quality and curated from the finest of silkworm harvesters, it would only benefit their sale in the long run if they upped the ante on their product.

 

The general simply stood quietly in the sidelines, watching with admiration as Jimin easily roped in nobles, persuading them to buy a silk that frequently bought. He quickly realized that Jimin was working on emptying their stock, briefly glancing at a list he curated as the customers were admiring the silks to see what he was low on and what he needed to sell more of. It only helped his case that the customers trusted him because he was a beta. Betas were known to be truthful and reliable, which is why many were given jobs as delegators or counsel members. 

 

The alpha approved of Jimin's intellect before the Market became quiet, people flanking to the sides and beginning to grow quiet.

 

Jimin took a step back, now next to the general, curious as to why the celebration was quieting down. A chill ran down his spine as he felt the general's presence draw closer, slightly jumping as a quiet breath fanned against his ear. 

 

"The king is arriving shortly. Usually during events like these, when the king is moving from block to block, citizens quiet down to pay respects. When the army passes by is when they celebrate their return," he explained, devilishly whispering in Jimin's ear. When he pulled back, the omega rubbed his ear against his shoulder to get rid of the tickling sensation, blushing furiously at having an alpha that wasn't his father so close to him. When he thought about it, other than the artisan's son, he had never been in an intimate proximity with an alpha. Having the general so close, almost brushing shoulders, was having Jimin grow nervous and antsy.

 

He swallowed his nerves and turned back to the street, bowing his head to show his respect before the distant sound of daechwita, or military music, began sounding. The percussions were loud in their beats, winds even prouder as the music grew louder and louder, demanding the attention of onlookers. The sound of such music rang a chill down Jimin's spine, and he finally looked up when he heard cheers of celebration.

 

His eyes widened as the army began to march pass, tall and broad in their uniforms with swords poised at their hips. Although their faces were stoic, memories of past wounds present in thick scars, Jimin could only imagine their relief at finally being home. A giddy feeling welled inside him, a sudden patriotic pride filling his insides. We really did win the war. We're safe, he thought. 

 

The general seemed to chuckle. "Happy to see them home? Is one of your family members a soldier?"

 

Jimin shook his head, but refused to drop his small smile. "No, sir, but I'm thankful we had the resources to win. I find pride in seeing our country do well," he said, trying to seem well spoken but honest. His mother often criticized him for being too informal and open, but her lectures and ridicules of his behavior seemed to glare at him in the back of his head in that moment. He felt like he needed to seem smart, needed to seem like he wasn't just a bouncy omega. He wanted to please the general. 

 

The man eyed Jimin, a huff of a laugh escaping him. "It's wonderful, isn't it?" Jimin was shocked at such a warm tone, yet was reminded that this very man probably trained with many of those soldiers marching. Perhaps even taught them, but given his youthful eyes Jimin could only suspect that the alpha was passed down his position from his father.

 

Clearing his throat, Jimin watched the soldiers stroll by. "I've always wondered what the battlefield is like. Gruesome, I imagine, but I'm curious to see what the campsites must look like."

 

"Like death and misery," the general said with a matter-of-fact voice. Jimin flinched, even though knowing he was to expect an answer like that. "It's never a happy place. Not enough healers, not enough resources. We don't even have the materials and time to make a splint, so it's either amputate a sprained ankle and give them a prosthetic or kill them off." 

 

His eyes widened in horror, but the general just continued. "There's not enough water nor food to care for the ill or injured. We have to prioritize the healthy, the ones who can fight. That's how we win, and how our enemies fault." 

 

Jimin's eyebrows narrowed, a strange feeling of anger arising within his chest. "It shouldn't be like that. I believe the government is failing its soldiers by voiding them of proper funding—" reminded of who he's in the presence of, Jimin slaps a hand to his mouth, forcefully silencing himself. He ushered out an apology, to which the general only waved away with moon-shaped eyes.

 

"No, no, you're right. Although the king is wealthy, its difficult to give that all that wealth to the army, which is why they call upon nobles for help. But nobles are greedy little things, and tend to offer the bare minimum just to stay away from the eyes of higher authority than their own." 

 

The omega nodded, understanding how such things could happen. He felt a bit bolder, as if the general won't shun him for speaking his mind. "Mm. It's unfair, I believe—how we are the ones suffering from taxes while the nobles reap no such thing. If only they were taxed as well, the army could thrive, and we wouldn't have to needlessly kill those who don't 'deserve' proper necessities." 

 

The general seemed to toss Jimin's words around in his head, considering his statement. He then turned to Jimin, peering down at him. "Maybe you should became a politician. I suppose to king would love to hear your words," he softly said with that same warmth.

 

Jimin blushed once again, turning his eyes away to avoid the alpha's passionate stare. It was almost as if the general enjoyed seeing Jimin speak his mind, like how a parent looks at their child with pride once they accomplished something. "I...I'm meant to be here. I have no time to become anything else," he sighed. His mind briefly wondered to the kisaeng house. While Jimin thought of his desire to dance, the general interpreted that dreamy look as one for power and influence. 

 

It only went to show how different their worlds were. 

 

The cheers grew louder and louder, and Jimin only realized why when he saw a large horse begin to pass by, a regally dressed man atop the horse. Although his face was completely covered, Jimin instinctively knew that was the king. He wore luxurious robes of red and gold, the embroidery created by the finest artisans and most delicate hands. The king wore twin swords on his hips, sheathed in a leather and jade encasing. 

 

Jimin's eyes glittered upon spotting the robes, as if captivated by such high quality silk. Even though the silk before him was of the highest standard, it could never compare to royalty's clothes. In the very way it shined and folded, Jimin could tell the fabric was woven with magic. His ears twitched, tail briefly wagging back and forth. 

 

He'd never seen an enchanted robe before.

 

Too enraptured in the King passing by, Jimin failed to feel the general step a bit closer, now brushing him with his shoulder. The omega started when a fluffy tail brush against his, only to see the general's platinum tail wagging at a slower pace. He blushed, ducking his head and ears flattening against his head. 

 

The general was only about a head taller than him, what visible skin there was as pale as snow. His ears were shielded by a veil as well, but through the thin and somewhat translucent material he could tell they were as light as his tail that peeked out behind is black robes.

 

His tail reached out again, and when Jimin glanced at the general in question of why he was brushing his tail against the omega's, the general was simply staring at the soldiers marching behind the king. 

 

Looking straight again, Jimin turned a deeper shade of rose. Although it was odd to feel the man's tail brush against his, it didn't feel...wrong. It felt warm, even. Cozy, enough to offer him a bit of satisfaction in the ever growing colder night air. The contact make his tail wag even more, for reasons he didn't know. 

 

Either way, it felt nice to be recognized by the general. To feel protected and understood, to be protected not because he was an omega, but because he was something to protect in the first place. It felt like he had earned the alpha's respect during their brief conversation, so much so that the general had supported his ideas instead of quieting them.

 

Even in front of his closest friends, Jimin had never been supported for his somewhat radical ideas. 

 

It felt nice, and Jimin wasn't going to deny it. 

 

When the soldiers had finally passed, the carriages came. People began scooting closer to the booths to give them enough space, the few in front of Jimin's booth getting to close their bodies began pushed against the display and—

 

Jumping in action, Jimin caught the display box before it could topple over, wanting to glare at those who pushed it. The general rushed to help him, going so far as to tug the shelf backward. 

 

Not particularly enjoying the situation not the safety of the silks, Jimin quickly swept the squares up, counting them before deciding to place them in storage. 

 

The general was trying to stop them from pushed the shelf over again, hands bracing the edges. Jimin huffed, before motioning to pull the shelf back. The general understood immediately, helping Jimin tug the shelf back and behind the curtain. 

 

Enclosed in darkness, Jimin busied himself with fastening the curtain, gazing at several feet beneath the curtain flanking the edge of the long fabric.

 

Sighing, Jimin sagged in resignation, saddened he wouldn't be able to see the carriages and whoever else was left pass by. The storage was dark, encased in wooden walls and the curtain, edges stacked full with crates and shelves of silks. The only light entering the room was from he edges of the curtain, faintly illuminating the space enough for Jimin to navigate around the stool and low table and sit down.

 

He eyed the general awkwardly standing by the curtain, trying to peer outside through the edges. "Aish, they've blocked us in..." he noted. Jimin nodded, trying not to stare as the general began to pace around, eyeing the merchandise up and down. 

 

Silence filled the room, mind the loud cheers outside the curtain. Jimin noted that the general's eyes glowing that strange gold were actually illuminated, lightening his features with an actual glow. His was odd, but not unusual for people of substantial standing. Although not all nobles had magic, some very little or none at all, others had passed down their gift from generation to generation, the strongest of magic only intensifying as time goes on. 

 

Jimin had always been told he didn't have any magic. His family had long been void of any, the last wielders of any abilities being his great-great-grandparents. Occasionally, magic would skip generations, but it was highly unlikely Jimin's alive and immediate family was special enough to be gifted with a drop of magic in this day and age. 

 

Even so, it was odd to see such an ability on the general. It suited him, he realized, with his slanted eyes and pale skin. Jimin's face flooded with blood as he once again was caught staring at the general, but the general could only fondly laugh. 

 

"How old are you?" He asked.

 

Jimin cleared his throat. "18, sir. I turned 18 about a month ago." 

 

The general nodded. Jimin was nervous to ask for his age, but the alpha told him anyways. "Ah, not much younger than me. I'm 20," he stated.

 

Nodding, Jimin fiddled with his thumbs, feeling embarrassed with his conversation skills. 

 

Seeming to catch on to Jimin's feelings, the general moved to sit across from Jimin, unholstering his swords and setting them on the ground. His eyes opened wide, beginning to stand to offer him the stool, but the general merely waved him off. Unsure, Jimin sat back down, staring at the general sit down on the dirt. 

 

"Are you sure? I'm sure your robe is expensive—"

 

"Don't fret, little wolf, I'm fine."

 

Jimin scoffed. "Ya, who are you calling little?" He scorned informally, only seeing his mistake when the general barked a laugh. This time, Jimin could see the way the veil shifted as his cheeks scrunched, almost making his eyes disappearing with how hard he smiled

 

The covered expression made Jimin procure a small smile, feeling proud that he got the general to laugh. The sound was cute, he noted, nothing like his rough expression. Light but full, completely different to Jimin's loud and cheery one. 

 

"Are you usually like this?" The general innocently questioned.

 

The omega pouted. "Sometimes. I try not to be, my mother often scorns me for my lack of etiquette. I apologize, sir."

 

Yet his large hand just waved him off. "No, no, I don't mind. Really. It's nice to hear someone be naturally informal to me for once. I'm not used to such freeing conversation."

 

That made Jimin perk up, glad he could be that kind of person to the mysterious general. "Really? I guess...I'll speak like I would to a hyung?" He shyly said, dropping the formalities.

 

A steady warmth seemed to radiate off of the alpha. Jimin could see the tip of his tail thump against the ground behind him, much like a playful cat. It made his own tail swish, happy to see the general react in a positive way. 

 

The general nodded. "You can call me hyung, too. If you would like." 

 

Jimin's ears perked up. He tested the waters with an, "Okay, hyung," smiling when the alpha lightened up even more. His eyes seemed to pulse, a flash of light illuminating the space even more. 

 

Briefly startled, Jimin pointed them out. "Your eyes are amazing, hyung. I've never seen someone's glow like yours do."

 

He seemed puzzled at that. The general cupped a hand in front of his eyes before gasping, most likely seeing the way his palm was illuminated with the warm light. His knuckles rubbed at his eyes, as if trying to wipe the glow away. When they refused to settle their radiating light, the general looked to him in disbelief. 

 

"They've never glowed like this. At least...not since I had first presented," he breathed with an air of disbelief. 

 

Tilting his head and flicking his ear, Jimin asked, "Well, why are they glowing now? It must be your magic, right?"

 

The general shook his head. "No...well, yes, it is magic, but it's not triggered by magic."

 

"Then what is it triggered by?" 

 

He was silent for a moment, just staring at the omega with inquisitive eyes. "I don't know," he muttered.

 

Obliviously humming, Jimin nodded. "What's your name? I'm Park Jimin."

 

As if taken aback by the question, the general chuckled. "I can't exactly say." He then whispered, "I'm not exactly supposed to be here," which made Jimin giggle. Our secret, then, he thought. 

 

Accepting the fact, Jimin sighed with a hopeless demeanor, pouting as if not knowing his name had any actual affect on him. The general's eyes glittered, the deep gold lightening to a softer barley color, much like Jimin's own hair. 

 

With his eyes and magic on his mind, Jimin innocently pondered, "What kind of magic do you have, hyung? I hear a fire affinity is more common in our nation." 

 

The general's ears flicked beneath their veil. He seemed to be thinking carefully about how to answer, deciding on how much to reveal. Without so much as a word, he lifted a pale hand, Jimin watching in surprise as a spark ignited into a small ball of fire in the palm of his hand. Jimin gasped, eyes trailing the small orb as the general sent it to the center of the low table. Although small, it was bright enough to illuminate Jimin and the general's faces and the outline of their bodies. The glow of the fire only added fuel to the radiance of Jimin's smile as he gave the general a look of disbelief. 

 

"Wah, how did you do that? I mean, it's magic, but—"

 

A deep laugh cut him off, the general letting his hand fall, the orb still floating despite no motion to keep it frozen in midair. "Practice. And, well, let's just say I wasn't given my title through my father."

 

"Ahhh," Jimin nodded. He then carefully reached his small hand out, inching his hands closer until he could feel the heat radiating off of the orb. Although autumn was coming to a close and winter was raining in, Jimin hadn't felt much of the cold due to his constant movement. Yet in the secluded darkness of the silk booth, he was beginning to feel the effects of a temperature drop. The warmth crept through his skin, spreading faster than any fire he had ever stood near. He thought it had something to do with the general's magic, yet didn't give too much mind to it.

 

The omega failed to notice the general's gaze catch his palms, which were now illuminated by the fire. "Were your hands cut recently in an accident?"

 

The question stunned him for a moment before Jimin snatched his hands away, rubbing the scars as if they were a mere smudge of paint. All previous coziness left him. He knew the general was simply curious and nothing more, but the only ones to see his hands were his family and Jisoo. Eyeing the alpha, he softly said, "Of sorts."

 

Although sensing his discomfort, the general tried to pry a bit more. "Were you punished for something? I noticed your hair was cut."

 

That time, Jimin let out an audible gasp, hands shooting to his head to make sure the hat was still atop. Yet it was secure, not even budging when Jimin's ears had flattened against his head at the sudden remark. The general's eyes widened, as if he felt bad for worrying the younger. 

 

"No one else noticed, rest assured. I only saw when you ducked your head, there was a small piece that slipped out, but you fixed your hat immediately after," he tried to explain. Jimin felt slightly better, but his heart betrayed him in the way it anxiously slammed against his chest.

 

Jimin rushed to say, "I'm not unfilial, and I'm certainly not a criminal. I did nothing wrong."

 

The general believed him, but his eyes hardened in a way Jimin couldn't explain. In such a close proximity, the smells from the outside were wearing away, replacing the cozy space with Jimin and the general's scent. The omega could immediately tell that the general was blocking his scent with some sort of herbal concoction (or even magic), but Jimin's scent was inherently weak on its own. With Jimin's curt explanation, the alpha's scent turned softer. It was a fresh woodsy smell, akin to that of a forest or an unlit fire. Warm, in a way, but not ashy nor bitter. 

 

Humming, he replied, "I didn't think you were. Perhaps it really was just an accident," he hypothesized, eyes unrelenting with the gaze they had on Jimin.

 

Uncomfortable with the sudden atmosphere, the omega scowled and ripped his hat off. Damn it all. Who cares anymore, I'm tired. The movement surprised the general, who abruptly lowered his head as if Jimin had just ripped off his clothes. Laughing at his shyness, the merchant teased, "What, never seen an omega without a hat?"

 

The glare he received lacked any real threat as the elder slowly raised his head, eyes filled with shocked curiosity, then delight, upon witnessing the beauty of Jimin's hair. 

 

He coughed, "Of course I have. You're the only omega wearing a hat," he snarked. 

 

Grinning, Jimin leaned back, running a hand through his hair and giving it a good ruffle, eventually shaking his head entirely to settle the chopped hairs around his big ears. "Right, right. The only omega," he mocked, gleaming at the way the general seemed to huff a laugh. A sudden thought crossed through Jimin's head. Feeling bolder and bolder, especially now that his hat was gone, Jimin freely asked, "Do you have a mate?"

 

The man's warm demeanor dimmed, relaxed shoulders tensing as he adverted Jimin's stare. "Well... yes and no. It's more political than anything, we haven't marked each other," he summarized. 

 

Jimin hummed, not completely understanding why his languidly wagging tail suddenly came to a halt, his ears twitching. Instead of showing his slight disappointment, Jimin covered it up with another question. "What are they? Omega, I presume? What are they like?"

 

A hum. "Yes, an omega male. He's... stubborn, I'd say. A strong head, the natural leader type." His eyes seemed distant, a strange look of a dying love dimming his glowing eyes. "He's a bit sick, so, it seems I'll be counting down the days." Voice slightly falling, Jimin frowned, feeling slightly guilty for bringing the subject up.

 

Heart heavy, he apologized. "I'm sorry he's ill." 

 

The general just waved him off, trying to seem nonchalant. "It was expected, he was never a physically strong person. Anyways, do you have a mate?"

 

Jimin was quick to shake his head. "No. Well...no. I am engaged to someone, but we have only met a handful of times and I have a feeling he will reject my hand upon seeing my appearance." Although it was very matter-of-fact, as if the statement didn't bother him anymore, his ears betrayed him as they glowered. 

 

Silence encased them for a moment, instead filled with the sounds of the festival. Jimin could tell that the carriages must have moved on, since feet no longer flanked his curtain. 

 

While Jimin was momentarily intrigued on the state of the celebration, the general quietly stated, "He'd be a fool to reject someone as beautiful as you."

 

Eyes snapping to the general, Jimin furiously blushed, bowing his head to hide his face despite the orb of fire's constant glow. His heart skipped, tail thumping against the ground. He's been complimented before, relentlessly, even, but to be complimented by someone like the general was... he had no words to describe the way it made him feel. It was as if he was naturally pleased to hear the alpha praise him, especially after a day of such cold words from the man. 

 

He loved his warmth. It made those insecurities about his palms and hair wash away just a tad, harsh words and grimaces burnt away to leave room for new growth. And that new growth smelled of wood and ash. 

 

Shyly laughing, Jimin played into his character and cupped his jaw in his hands. "This face? Beautiful?" When the general gave nothing but a stare, Jimin's smile faltered, hands dropping in embarrassment. "Hah. Well, maybe a month ago. I was certainly beautiful with my longer hair and unblemished hands," he noted sadly. He then held out his hands straight in front of him, palms downward, as if to flaunt his perfectly trimmed nails to the general. "My hands were loved by the elders. Because they're so small and soft, they'd just love to hold my hands and think I was their child. I was often adored for them. I'd get picked on for my short pinkies, sure, but it still have me significant respect," he joked. 

 

A fond look filled the general's eyes, the man not even asking before he delicately slid his hand against Jimin's. His heart stopped as the alpha flipped his palm upward, fingertip trailing the scar and the orb seeming to give off more light as if to let the man see with ease. The pink lines almost blended into the creases of his palm, yet despite the way they faded into normal skin he was able to map out each and every mangled direction a cut was made. 

 

He traced over the scar atop the meaty part of the thumb. "This would've hurt like hell," he mumbled. Jimin could only swallow and nod as the alpha turned his attention to his right hand, face warming with blood and cheeks feeling fuzzy as the general bent over to inspect the scars. It felt akin to how a child would curiously investigate something, tracking every nook and cranny with an inquisitive but innocent intent. Yet with the way one hand cupped the underneath of Jimin's while the other traced the pattern of cruel edges, it felt more like a healing touch. One from a lover, from someone who would mourn the loss of bodily autonomy and weep with their partner about the troubles of past trauma. 

 

His touch made him sleepy, eyes drooping closed and shivers creeping down Jimin's breath with the general's kind touch and soft breath against his palm. He didn't even realize he was leaning closer to the man over the table until he noticed the alpha stop his ministrations, Jimin opening his eyes in wonder. 

 

Faces only centimeters apart, Jimin sucked in a harsh breath. He wondered how he looked in comparison to the general, if his eyes held the same shine. The sudden urge to lift the general's veil consumed him, but with that desire came the realization of who they were and what they were doing.

 

Pulling his hands away and leaning back, Jimin pressed the back of his fingers against his cheeks to test the warmth. "I'm not of your status, we shouldn't be doing this." He didn't fail to notice the alpha's eyes dim at the switch from informa to formal.

 

The general seemed mildly disappointed, annoyed, even. "Doing what?"

 

Jimin waved his hand about. "This. Talking like we've known each other for years, touching each other like that. You should've reported me by now, because not only am I an omega posing as a beta so I can work at the Red Market, but I'm purposefully concealing my hair. You could take away our pass to sell here."

 

"Hair grows back, time are changing, and I find you pleasant to converse with. Is it so bad to have a conversation?" He huffed out, sounding more on the accusing side.

 

"It is when I'm nothing but a merchant's son and you're an aristocrat," Jimin snapped back. 

 

The fire grew a bit brighter as the general raised his voice. "And no one would dare say anything to an aristocrat. I have more power than you think, Jimin-ssi. You might as well assume mine rivals the kings."

 

Jimin stared, before dropping his jaw open with an incredulous laugh. The general seemed confused, as if he couldn't possibly understand the sudden switch of emotion. 

 

"You think highly of yourself, I see," he said, tongue in cheek. "It's even worse if your power rivals that of a king. That means you're being watched, and word spreads quickly."

 

Huffing, the general replied, "Who would dare defy the king? That's a death sentence, if anything." 

 

Biting the inside of his cheek, Jimin instead swished his tail into his lap and began brushing through the soft fur. He drew his attention to the way the tip curled, heart clenching so painfully he couldn't maintain his stare. "Don't give me useless hope."

 

"Hope for what?" The general was quick to say. Not mocking him, but perhaps hopeful himself.

 

The omega was quiet for a moment, licking his lips in contemplation. "That I'll get to see you again. That this time won't just be a memory. Things such as that," he whispered at the end. 

 

He could almost hear the cogs grinding in the general's head, the man most likely not knowing what to properly respond with. 

 

"Then I guess I'll just have to keep seeing you," he finally replied.

 

Whipping his head up, a slow heat began to build within his chest. Not like the cozy warmth he's felt ever since sitting down, but...something different. It had to do with the general's words, the way he was gazing at Jimin like he was God's brightest creation. 

 

Jimin whispered, a slight frown on his lips, "Don't make promises you can't keep." 

 

"What if I were to keep true to my words?" The general then asked, slowly standing and traveling to Jimin's right side. He crouched down, eye level with the omega. This close, Jimin could make out the way his glowing gold eyes made intricate shadows out of his eyelashes across the veil, could see how the veil slightly tightened around his cheekbones. From this close, the omega could smell the way his scent sharpened, the way it turned thicker, coating the inside of his lungs. He took a deep breath, heart thumping sporadically against the inside of his chest. 

 

The general held his stare, reaching a hand out to brush a strand of hair behind Jimin's ear only for it to pop back out. He then began playing with the strand, voice gruff as he continued. "What if I were to visit you tomorrow night, and every night following?"

 

"I'd think of you as an obsessed man."

 

Instead of scorning him he laughed. "Perhaps." The hand playing with his hair then fell to his cheek, fingers warm and comforting as his thumb brushed against Jimin's jaw. Eyes heavy lidded, the general followed his thumb to Jimin's bottom lip, gently rubbing at the plush and rosy flesh. "Maybe I am," he croaked. 

 

Pulse thrumming in his throat, Jimin didn't know what possibly could of came over him as he blurted out, "Can I kiss you, sir?"

 

Golden eyes met his again, the general never ceasing his thumb's movement. It began pulling on his bottom lip, slightly exposing his bottom teeth, before it jumped back in to place as the general's thumb then moved, hand softly grabbing his chin. 

 

When he began pulling Jimin closer, air thick with tension, Jimin suddenly pointed out the obstruction. "Your veil," he noted.

 

The general paused, almost for a second too long. Jimin flushed, all those thoughts questioning just what he was doing swarming in to his head. Shame ran over his mind like a horse, demolishing anything in its path.

 

He made a move to pull away, but the general simply tightened his grip. "You must close your eyes, though. I'm afraid my beauty is no match to yours."

 

Although Jimin knew that was a hoax just to avoid having Jimin knowing just exactly who he was, the omega obliged, softly letting his eyes fall closed. His world was encapsulated in darkness, only the soft glow from the fire reminding him there was still light beyond his eyelids. He waited, feeling the general's hand fall and hearing the rustle of fabric, before suddenly, two warm hands were guiding his face forward. 

 

Meeting the general's lips was akin to the sensation of basking in the sun on an autumn day. Although the air was cold, his touch was warm, soothing his muscles and skin with its gentle nature. His lips were smooth, albeit a bit smaller than Jimin's own, but they were purposeful. Understanding his inexperience, the general didn't rush him, instead motioning where exactly the omega should tilt and hold his head. Jimin's hands had minds of their own, reaching up to circle around the general's neck. Although the veil from his hat was long, Jimin was able to weasel his arms around his shoulders, wanting to hold him closer.

 

Happy to divulge the younger, the general began leaning backward into a string position, dragging Jimin along with him. Trusting the general to guide him, Jimin suddenly found himself on the elder's lap, straddling his thighs. When a wet tongue peeked out to brush against his lips, Jimin obliged, opening his mouth and moaning in to the general's as he felt his tongue softly touch his own. 

 

The general's hand found his waist through the thick fabric of his hanbok, lightly squeezing and dragging him closer until their chests were flush together. When Jimin's head bumped into the other's hat, the general removed it, allowing Jimin the freedom to straighten his spine, slightly bending the general's head back. Although Jimin was now above the general, it didn't become a fight for dominance—rather, the elder allowed the omega to do as he wished, shifting his head with every kiss. 

 

Gasping for breath, the general began kissing down Jimin's jaw and neck, lightly sucking but never hard nor long enough to leave a mark. Letting out a breathy moan, Jimin reached his hand up, lightly stroking the general's fluffy ear. He growled in response, not as a threat, but a sign of pleasure at having the sensitive appendages played with. 

 

They continued like that, the general teasingly meeting Jimin's lips anytime the omega let out a moan a bit too loud. The alpha began noticing how Jimin began lightly moving his hips back and forth, seemingly desperate for friction. With a quick glance downward as he mouthed as his jaw, the general noticed something hardening beneath the little wolf's trousers. 

 

Well aware of where they were and the general public that was meters away, the general slowed his kisses, despite the harsh grip of longing aching inside his chest. It almost hurt to draw away, to deprive the whining omega of physical affection. 

 

Yet what he wanted to do shouldn't be here, and it shouldn't be now. 

 

He straightened up to the top of Jimin's head, breathily whispering, "Let's not get too ahead of ourselves. There will always be time later."

 

Jimin whined, hating the way how cold his lips felt without the general's presence. He wanted to open his eyes, wanted to see if the general's lips were as red and swollen as his own, glossy with saliva. He wanted to kiss him more, wanted to divulge in his desires. The thick fog in his mind was coated in the scent of the general, the feel of his warmth. 

 

Get a grip, Jimin. Withholding his whines, Jimin nodded, keeping his eyes tightly closed as the general moved to put his hat back on, fastening the veil back in place.

 

"You can open your eyes, little wolf."

 

When Jimin did, he expected the glow of the fire and the general's eyes to make him wince, yet no such thing happened. He noticed the orb of fire was nothing was a soft ember, and the general's eyes were dim, almost brown in how dark the barley-gold color had gotten. Blinking, Jimin suddenly flushed, embarrassed at what he must look like. He couldn't deny he felt safe in the general's arms, felt like he could do and say whatever he want. In his lap, it was almost as if he wasn't just a merchant, wasn't just an omega. 

 

He made him feel so much more. 

 

The man fondly laughed. "Don't be shy. You're as lovely as a water lily."

 

Chuckling in embarrassment, Jimin raised his gaze again. He wanted to engrave the way the general looked at him into his mind forever, he wanted to paint the way his eyes softened and his eyes sparkled. 

 

Instead of replying, he cupped the general's face, softly kissing him through the veil. When he pulled back, the general looked surprised, but endeared. 

 

"I will see you again, right?"

 

He nodded. "Of course."

 

Satisfied, Jimin sighed, pushing himself off of the general. He reached a hand out and helped pull the other up, regretfully watching him dust off his robes after sitting in the dried dirt. Jimin found his own hat, pulling his ears through and tucking any stray strands of hair away. 

 

Back in reality, Jimin silently began freaking out, wondering what exactly just happened. He could feel the elder's presence behind him as he peeked past the curtain.

 

They must've been talking for a while, for the Red Market was dwindling down, now just a few merchants and customers chatting or helping each other close up for the night. 

 

A sudden thought dawned on Jimin. "My brother never came back."

 

His heart that just settled grew nervous, beating wildly, this time for anxiety. Jimin peeled back the curtain, earning very few glances as he shimmied past the small gap between the wall and the shelf, stepping in to the center of the road. 

 

Whipping his head around, he could only see the market continue on for miles in each direction. He breathed in, but with so many scents that were previously there, he couldn't catch a whiff of his brother's.

 

The general watched him nervously approach the merchant diagonal to their booth. The old man was sweeping along his shop as Jimin said, "Excuse me?"

 

Eyeing him up and down, the old man said, "Can I help you?"

 

"Uhm," Jimin started, then motioned toward his own booth. "Have you seen my brother lately? He is usually here with our father, his name is Park Taemin."

 

Nodding in recognition, the man replied, "Taemin-ah? No, I haven't seen him since a few hours ago, before you began manning the booth. Someone might've stolen another silk and he chased after them," he theorized.

 

Jimin sighed, but kindly bowed and thanked the man before returning to the general, whose eyebrows were knitted together on concern. He noticed his swords were poised at his sides again, dark forms standing out against the warm tones of the market. 

 

"Did he say anything?"

 

Shaking his head, Jimin bit his lip with worry. He suddenly felt like crying, nerves over where his brother went consuming him, chest constricting. Blinking back his tears, he clearly said, "He might've run off after another thief, but he would've been back by now..."

 

Jimin helplessly looked around. "It's late, too. He's a beta, but still, to be out alone..."

 

"I'm sure he'll be fine," the general reassured. "He looked fairly capable to handle himself."

 

"My parents will kill me..." he groaned, eyeing the shop. "I can't pull all the silks back myself, too, I'll have to sleep here tonight..."

 

The general froze at that. "I'll pull the cart to your home. It's unsafe to sleep here overnight."

 

"But my brother—"

 

"I will send word before we leave for the other guards to look for him. He will be found," the general stated.

 

Jimin looked at him, as if weighing his options, before he signed in defeat. "Fine. Let's...I'll bring the cart around while you talk to the guards."

 

The general nodded, both momentarily going their separate ways. Jimin slid between the booths, maneuvering between the back of his booth and the back of the booth behind theirs. The way the booths were divided allow for a small alleyway where most merchants kept extra storage boxes and carts, away and hidden from general view. 

 

When he pulled the cart around, the general had already returned, standing tall as he pulled the curtain back and moved the shelf aside for them to load the crates and deliveries of silks inside. 

 

With a heavy heart and muddled mind, Jimin wordlessly began loading the silks, careful to fold and wrap them in cotton before placing them inside the wooden box. The general quickly caught on, aiding Jimin in speeding up the process.

 

Finished, Jimin sighed once again, glancing around the market a final time.

 

"Ready?" The general asked.

 

Silent for a moment, Jimin then nodded, wordlessly leading the general pulling the cart through the market.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

Their journey was silent, the quiet almost deafening when they made their way out of the Red Market and on to the dark and lonely trial. The only source of light was from the moon, which held high and full in the sky. The only reminder Jimin had that the general was still behind him was the extra addition of steps and the creak of the old wooden cart. 

 

He often thought about their kiss, how close they held each other, but anytime he recalled that incident his cheeks flushed and he shook his head as if the thoughts would leave. Other than that, he contemplated what exactly he could say to his parents about Taemin's disappearance. If they'd be mad at him, if they'd scream or ban him from ever going in to the market again. It terrified him, he knew, but the concern for his elder brother's position mattered more than a scolding.

 

Eventually, by the time Jimin made it to his village, his feet were sore and his shoulders were tense with anxiety. He led the general all the way to his front door, turning to finally meet him eye-to-eye after the long one hour walk.

 

He hardly seemed effected from pulling the cart for so long, simply setting it down and meeting Jimin. 

 

The omega deeply bowed. "Thank you so much for your help. Would you like to spend the night? I'm sure the journey back would be—"

 

"I apologize, but I must decline. I will be alright, but there is something I must tend to near the capital," he said plainly, eyes no longer glowing.

 

Jimin nodded, bowing once more. His heart lurched as he said, "Take care, sir."

 

The general was silent, staring at Jimin one last time. He then nodded his head. "Of course, Jimin-ah. Thank you for the splendid day."

 

The omega blushed, watching the general turn and leave, shoulder square and right hand poised at his sword. 

 

With a sigh, Jimin closed his eyes, trying to calm his aching heart. 

 

You will see him again. Surely, you will. Now is about Taemin-hyung.

 

He swallowed, grabbing the cart and lugging it through the door, head bowed in shame as he steeled himself in order to prepare for the onslaught of his parents words as he would explain what happened.

 

I will. I will see him again. 

 

With a deep breath, he let the cart roll to a stop in the center of the courtyard, making his way to the light inside the main room to inform his parents on Taemin's disappearance.

 

I will.

Notes:

hi everyone!!! I hope you’ve enjoyed the first chapter of Red Fish, Blue Fish!! Come say hi on Twitter @leanmeancuizine :)

a/n: it’s finally here!! I first coined and posted the idea for this fic in October 2020, but pushed it to the side to complete a couple updates of my other fic, TCT. I began tweaking parts of the story and adding/completely removing some parts of the storyline, so for those of you who have read the preview, the new continuation of this story will be very different (which I apologize for).

Writing this chapter was definitely a doozy, and I often found myself unsure of how to particularly go about it. I did a bit of research into the historical eras of Korea, but due to the nature of abo I had to change a couple things (like the clothing), but nonetheless I hope it is a bit accurate.

And if you read the whole chapter, congrats! It was a whopping 15.4k words, which is the most I’ve ever written in one part (yay me?).

I hope you enjoyed, see you next time!!

Notes:

hi everyone!!! I hope you’ve enjoyed the first chapter of Red Fish, Blue Fish!! Come say hi on Twitter @leanmeancuizine :)

a/n: it’s finally here!! I first coined and posted the idea for this fic in October 2020, but pushed it to the side to complete a couple updates of my other fic, TCT. I began tweaking parts of the story and adding/completely removing some parts of the storyline, so for those of you who have read the preview, the new continuation of this story will be very different (which I apologize for).

Writing this chapter was definitely a doozy, and I often found myself unsure of how to particularly go about it. I did a bit of research into the historical eras of Korea, but due to the nature of abo I had to change a couple things (like the clothing), but nonetheless I hope it is a bit accurate.

And if you read the whole chapter, congrats! It was a whopping 15.4k words, which is the most I’ve ever written in one part (yay me?).

I hope you enjoyed, see you next time!!