Chapter Text
[moodboard by cata]
~ ~ ~
we've got a life, but it's never enough
it got us down, so we're giving it up
we don't care if it's right or it's real love.
-"until the sun comes up" by gabrielle aplin
~ ~ ~
There was nothing as comparatively thrilling as rolling down a grassy hill with a small fortune of stolen gold in a backpack with the threat of disgruntled betas making chase.
But Jeon Jeongguk was not prone to shifting like a forest wolf (much to his dismay), and the three men running after him were out of luck, so the chase took a tumble. Jeongguk kept himself tucked as he rolled gleefully, and when he reached the bottom of the hill, he hopped up, dirt all over his clothing, backpack secured on his chest, since he had chosen to don it backwards in order to hug the goods for maximum protection.
“NEXT TIME, PAY ME WHAT I’M WORTH!” he hollered up the way with a devilish grin, watching the three men struggle to run down the hill without toppling over, none of them willing to take the risk of rolling in style as Jeongguk had done. They kept calling out to him (“YAH! DO DONGHYUN!”—a fake name), infuriated, but it was just noise. Knowing he had the upper hand, a more favorable metabolism, and a wolf that was desperate to go rogue at all times, Jeongguk turned and took off running, getting as far away as possible from the mansion on the hilltop and the elite pair of snobs who had hired cheap help to clean their home.
Being in nature was nice and felt almost innate, and as Jeongguk jogged along the familiar rocky stream with scattered patches of moss, he paused and bent down, breathless, the joints in his knees cracking as he peered at the water. With one hand, he scooped some of it up and let it run through his fingers, his nose twitching with the wind. No foreign scents. He was alone now. Pleased, he shrugged out of his backpack, grabbed the small metal water bottle he carried with him, and dunked it into the stream to collect fresh, cold water. The water poured into his bottle, and he lifted it up and chugged some of it, water droplets trickling down his chin to his black t-shirt. He had never been one to show up to a job dressed formally, and none of his clients seemed to mind, because Jeongguk always did the work he was hired to do, no matter his appearance.
In his pocket, Jeongguk’s phone began to vibrate. He struggled to yank it out as he continued to walk, the back held together by tape, the screen cracked in several places, and he answered.
“Yes, hello?”
“I’m calling the police!” a shrill female voice declared. “You won’t get away with this! We have your name!”
“Yah, you should see me right now. I’m shaking in fear,” Jeongguk said dramatically to the gardener of the home, and then he pressed his tongue into his cheek with a grin and hung up as she continued to yell. This was just his burner phone. He changed the number after every job he did that went sour, so this job would be no different. Jeongguk turned the phone off, shoved it into his pocket, and continued his journey home in glorious silence.
mood: “until the sun comes up” by gabrielle aplin
The walk back towards his beloved, dilapidated town of Gananhan in south Dayangsong was one that Jeongguk knew well. It wasn’t truly dilapidated—it was just considered bland and insipid on the outside in comparison to north Dayangsong in the city of Gogwihan, where the more well-to-do resided. Jeongguk knew the north like the back of his hand, but the south was where he belonged, because though it looked like chaos from the outside, the inside was a spectrum of colorful characters—mixed bloodlines, outrageous pairings, varying statuses, a dawn of opportunity up for grabs that usually always faltered but made for good show. Jeongguk was born an alpha, but he had been born with no status as a commoner, only for his wishy-washy parents to abandon him on the streets of the south at age eight with no interest in raising a rather feisty and curious pup. Jeongguk had lived in alleyways for a few weeks before a quiet pre-teen fellow orphan named Min Yoongi had taken him in.
“HYUNG! Hyung, check this out.” Jeongguk tumbled through the front door and kicked his shoes off excitedly with a grin.
“Yah, what the hell did you get into this time? You’re filthy. I’m proud.” Yoongi, a fellow alpha, raised his eyebrows in amusement and stepped away from the kitchen space. He blinked, his long, soft black hair trapped in his eyelashes, comforting teakwood scent enveloping Jeongguk immediately, full of overprotective curiosity.
“I was in the north,” Jeongguk replied, unzipping his backpack and shaking his long, wavy black hair out of his eyes. He glanced at the hair tie on his wrist, but then he favored pulling out what he had stolen. “Shit’s gonna sell big on the black market.”
“Oh, no fucking way,” Yoongi laughed, shuffling forward to take a look at Jeongguk’s score. Jeongguk had taken gold jewelry that had been sitting gathering dust in Mrs. Kang’s jewelry box, just a few pieces from her outrageous collection that she would never have known were missing if not for the damn metal detector at the backdoor that Jeongguk hadn’t seen.
“These fuckers had metal detectors,” Jeongguk complained. “That’s the first time in months. I had to run for my life. Gonna have to change my burner number again.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” Yoongi’s rough fingers grazed over the selection, and then he smiled over his shoulder. “Hey, did you see this?”
“I do have eyes.” Kim Taehyung crossed his arms and surveyed Jeongguk head to toe with a small smile as he came to stand beside Yoongi, his mate. Yoongi had taken care of Jeongguk since they were kids, both of them orphaned at a young age. Yoongi was a jack of all trades—woodsmith, blacksmith, the works. He had built the funky little cottage they all lived in on the edge of the south’s most populated town ten years ago, as well as many other houses in town. He was the one who had taught Jeongguk about playing the role of a thief, and it had always been just the two of them against the world. But five years ago, Taehyung, a rather rogue and whimsical devil-may-care alpha, had wandered into Yoongi’s shop asking for a sword and refusing to disclose why he needed one, resorting to telling Yoongi that he was off to slay a dragon. Jeongguk could still remember the months of bickering and fighting and sizing the other up before Taehyung and Yoongi had finally both caved (Jeongguk still didn’t know what the sword had been for).
Two alphas in a relationship was not common and often frowned upon outside the comfort of Gananhan. Two alphas mated was even more outrageous. Taehyung’s wolf (and Taehyung, quickly) had recognized Yoongi as its mate almost right away, whereas Yoongi had downright refused to acknowledge that Taehyung was his mate for an entire year despite his wolf’s desires. But to Jeongguk’s relief, Yoongi had finally allowed himself to submit to the feeling, and now they both bore a mating mark on their neck, two alphas making it work. Jeongguk just pretended that he didn’t exist when they both had their ruts.
“Was it the Kangs?” Taehyung asked. “That ugly-ass house on the hill?”
“The very same,” Jeongguk said, and Taehyung snickered, resting his chin on Yoongi’s shoulder, black curly hair wild, soft apple cinnamon scent swirling around happily, eyes sparkling as he eyed Jeongguk.
“Pity you couldn’t make out with more. Who caught you?” he asked, and then he turned and kissed the mating mark on Yoongi’s neck, his nose brushing the scent gland right below Yoongi’s jaw. Yoongi shivered and blew out a breath as Jeongguk zipped the backpack up again.
“The gardener,” Jeongguk sighed. “She saw me putting one brooch in my bag and she started screaming like the house was on fire. I just denied it, but then I walked out the backdoor, and there was a metal detector. Disaster.”
“They deserved it,” Yoongi said with a grin, and then he turned back towards the kitchen. “I’m starving, are you eating with us? Dinner’s on. Kimchi jjigae.”
Yoongi and Taehyung lived in the little cottage together, but Jeongguk had commandeered the attic a long time ago when he and Yoongi were teenagers, refusing (nicely) to leave. The ceiling was low and slanted, and getting up to his room required climbing the hidden pull-down stepladder, but it was cozy and quiet, and Jeongguk had soundproofed it years ago. The number of times he had destroyed his own living space because of his rut was borderline embarrassing, but at least Yoongi and Taehyung could flit in and out of the house in peace.
After dinner, Jeongguk climbed the ladder and flopped onto his bed, staring up at the wood-paneled slanted ceiling and through the window to the night sky. Then he rolled and flicked on his twinkle lights for some ambiance before grabbing the book he was reading. A good distraction.
Maybe Jeongguk didn’t have all the latest and greatest technology or furniture or precious possessions, but he had enough. Half of it was stolen from the rich. Dayangsong was a kingdom with an appealing book cover and questionable content, but most of the elite in Gogwihan tended to ask outsiders to only judge said book by its cover. Jeongguk took full advantage of his career choice and liked to read between the lines.
Seven years ago, Jeongguk had decided to put himself to work to help support Yoongi by cleaning houses—easy and painless. He had started off small, but then he had weaseled his way to the north based on word-of-mouth, consuming scent blockers to go unnoticed and putzing around the homes of purebloods (anyone the product of strictly an alpha and an omega pairing with status and family lineage) and the wealthy closest to Dayangsong Palace. The people who lived in Gogwihan near the palace adored hiring an alpha with no status and nothing to lose—cheap labor. They didn’t pay Jeongguk what he was worth, and that was part of the reason why Jeongguk always stole something when he worked—compensation. It was only fair.
And stealing helped him immensely on the black market. The next day, Jeongguk waltzed into the marketplace and sat down across from his potential buyers, watching as they examined the gold jewelry with fascination. They gave Jeongguk his money’s worth, which was far more than what he had made cleaning the Kangs’ house. Then he was off, ducking out and pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head and pulling his face mask up over his nose again.
“...Make so much money!”
“No, it just means I’ll have to buy scent blockers from the market.”
“Wait, when are they interviewing? Shit, only one day?”
Jeongguk pressed his tongue into his cheek and glanced over to the message board circle, where advertisements of all sorts were always posted with mismatched pushpins, overlapping one another for dominance. He raised his eyebrows when he noticed that the entire message board seemed to have been cleared, and now the only thing hanging on it, smack dab in the middle, was a cream-colored paper with the royal seal of the Park family on it. Curious, Jeongguk shuffled over, hands in his pockets, and then he looked over the shoulders of two eager girls and read:
AN ANNOUNCEMENT FROM DAYANGSONG PALACE
Dayangsong Palace is seeking one (1) suitable new staff member for purposes of tending to the palace, cleaning, and caretaking.
Neutralized scent favored. Work hours are variable. Pay is weekly. Experience preferred.
~
Interviews to commence tomorrow at sunrise, concluding at sunset.
“Hey, they ripped off my advertisement!”
“This is bullshit.”
“Are you going? Come with me.”
The chatter in the air was thick. The message was short and sweet and to the point, but Jeongguk was already off and running with his hood still up, his mind buzzing.
Pay is weekly.
If money was being offered on a steady basis, Jeongguk was a sucker, but at least he was aware of it. So many people got dragged into the superficial glamour of migrating to the north or the appeal of the palace, thinking they could handle living where the purest of purebloods in Dayangsong converged. Dayangsong was notoriously and blatantly split into rich and poor, pure and impure. The difference was astounding. Jeongguk had flirted with the idea of hanging around the palace once or twice in his teenage life to see if anyone needed his assistance, but he was smart enough (or maybe stubborn enough) to know that most of the wealthy just used him, especially given that he was an alpha.
“I’m going. Are you?”
“I could totally clean the palace.”
“You want to go to Dayangsong Palace? Yeah, good luck.”
Dayangsong Palace was a fortress with a colorful history. King Youngho, currently on the throne, was a dominant alpha with a heavy hand as a ruler and an omega wife who only knew extravagance and luxury, and Jeongguk was not ignorant to all the gossip. The royal couple only had one son, an enigmatic omega named Jimin, and for years, they had been trying to mate him with absolutely no success. Park Jimin, eventual heir to the throne, was a rumored nightmare—uncooperative, nonconforming, and uninterested in the line of betas and alphas seeking to be his mate. He was the tired omega stereotype from TV dramas that made Jeongguk laugh, mostly because those in the north and those in the palace virtually gagged at the idea of an omega not cooperating with so much at stake.
Jeongguk knew only what he heard through the grapevine about Dayangsong Palace and all its residents, including the royal family and their minions. Nothing was thicker than blood up there. Status was everything. Secrets were the norm. The palace worked for those who could feed it enough money. Jeongguk, an alpha with no real family and no status, was dirt beneath their feet. And everyone, everyone, was drowning blissfully in their own wealth.
The palace wanted someone with experience. Jeongguk was going to give it to them.
***
Dayangsong Palace was quite clearly ready to receive visitors.
“This way. Please remain in line. Right this way.” A bored guard guided the dozens upon dozens of people who had inevitably seen the advertisement. Jeongguk was among them, much to Taehyung and Yoongi’s dismay. It had taken a bit of convincing, but once Jeongguk had emphasized the possibility of steady income, Taehyung had caved and smacked Yoongi playfully on the back of the head, saying that Jeongguk was the perfect fit.
“Besides, having someone on the inside could do us some good,” he had joked. “Gguk, dress nicely.”
So Jeongguk was wearing the navy blue modern hanbok that Taehyung had made him once upon a time, seeing as Taehyung designed clothing and side hustled as a tailor and often made clothes for anyone who walked into his little corner of the shop he shared with Yoongi. Jeongguk had a nearly never-ending supply of scent blocking tea courtesy of his ventures in the black market, so his fresh rainwater scent was virtually muted. It was overpowering when he was in rut to the point where Taehyung complained that it felt like a typhoon was sweeping through their house. But in everyday life, his scent was mellow and rather pleasant to most betas and omegas and tolerable to alphas.
Jeongguk had spent his time on the outskirts of Dayangsong Palace as a kid when his scent was just like every other unpresented child and he hadn’t stood out, but he had never stepped over the unspoken threshold. When the concrete ground met the smooth cobblestone footpath leading to the front doors, that was the limit. But Jeongguk followed the line and teetered side-to-side, checking to the right and the left with every step he took, watching the line weave into the palace.
mood: “royals” by jasmine thompson
“Through here, stay in line. This way, please.”
Jeongguk pursed his lips and kept one hand clutched in the other while cracking his knuckles as he let his eyes wander. The moment he walked through the grand front doors, he was on sensory overload. The floors were dark tile, the windows floor-to-ceiling, and large red pillars were holding up the roof. There was an echo from all the chatter in the spaciousness, the ceilings slanted with ornate green, gold, and red traditional patterns and architecture.
“Out of line.”
“What? No, please!”
Jeongguk watched as one after another, people were pulled out of line and dismissed in droves. There seemed to be guards sniffing out the potential hirees whose scents were too strong or offensive, which Jeongguk found rather fascinating. The way the line dwindled was nothing short of extraordinary. The girl in front of him was removed from the line, which Jeongguk had anticipated—she smelled so strongly of strawberry that there was no way the guards hadn’t been able to pick up on her scent. Jeongguk could understand the desire for a neutral scent or forced neutrality. In a palace setting, surely the staff were meant to be invisible. Jeongguk couldn’t imagine an omega with such a strong strawberry scent cleaning the queen mother’s dressing room without causing a disturbance.
Jeongguk followed the misshapen line into the next room, where there were rows of chairs set up. He filed in and took a seat in the first available chair, watching as palace guards slowly paced back and forth, eyes narrowed as they gauged the room. Jeongguk pressed his palms into his thighs and rubbed slowly, running his tongue along his top teeth with his lips closed.
The chaos died down once the doors of the room closed a few minutes later. The chairs were filled, and one gentleman began to summon the first person available. As he did, Jeongguk suddenly wished that he had a book to read, or even his shitty cell phone to distract him. Like clockwork, one person walked into the room and exited three minutes later. It continued at a merciless pace.
“Next, please.”
Jeongguk lifted his head and looked around what felt like seconds later, and then he realized that the chair beside him was empty, which meant that he was being summoned. The interviews were truly moving at a clipping pace, and rightfully so—there couldn’t possibly be much to discuss when all they needed was a staff member to do some cleaning and caretaking. Clearing his throat, he rose to his feet, bowed profusely to the guard holding open the door, and ducked inside the next room.
The room was warm and welcoming, and Jeongguk immediately felt out of place. The walls were made of pale bamboo, and the floor matched. There was a step up to the seating area, where a taupe rug was laid out with an eight-panel folding screen made of bamboo with dark wood cherry blossom carvings against the back wall. In front of it were several red seating cushions with gold embellishments, and there was a red tea table with a teapot and several cups already presented. The scent of the room was neutral, which meant that the three men seated behind the tea table were either betas with faint scents, or they had consumed scent blockers. Jeongguk breathed in the incense that was burning instead, and then he approached the step and slipped out of his shoes. Then he bowed deeply.
“Hello, my name is Jeon Jeongguk,” he introduced himself, and then he stepped up and knelt down on the one cushion that was on the other side of the tea table.
“Jeon Jeongguk, please pour the tea,” the man in the center requested. Jeongguk raised his eyebrows, but then he carefully and politely, with proper etiquette, poured tea for four and handed over each teacup before taking his own.
“What is your rank?” the man on the left asked.
“Alpha.” Jeongguk turned the teacup once in his hands.
“Status?”
“None,” Jeongguk replied firmly. He had no familial ties to the royals. He had no bloodline of which to be proud. He was just Jeongguk.
“We are looking for a new support staff member,” the man in the center stated. “To clean and to potentially promote to a position of caring for palace residents. What are your expectations for this position?”
“Oh. Um, I have none.” Jeongguk sipped the tea and then lowered the cup into his lap. “I clean houses to earn a living. Sometimes I look after pups. I’m good at what I do, but work is sporadic. It’s feast or famine. I just need a steady job, and this seems like a good fit.”
“How many years of experience do you have?” the man on the left asked.
“About five or so years,” Jeongguk replied. “I started in the south, built my reputation, and worked my way to the north cleaning homes.”
The three men exchanged glances briefly while using the tea setting as a distraction, but Jeongguk had a sharp eye. Perhaps he had consumed scent blockers, but that didn’t mean that his wolf was unattentive. Jeongguk could read a room. The conversation had been wordless, but the three men had spoken decisively.
“It is important, Jeongguk, that our staff members understand several things,” the man to the right said, forgoing all formalities and disregarding any honorifics. Jeongguk was not surprised, albeit disappointed. “You are to remain neutral. Your rank as alpha will be acknowledged, but you are not to disturb the environment with your scent or otherwise. You are here to be invisible. You are hardly seen and never heard. You do the duties you are given. You will be asked to work a variety of hours without complaint. Do you understand these conditions?”
“Yes, I understand.” That I’ll be suffocated, but at least the pay will be decent, Jeongguk thought to himself.
“Seeing as you are the first we have spoken to with no real status, we have taken great interest in you,” the man in the middle said. “Most have walked in here ready to discuss their family trees. But you are quiet. Straightforward. Unattached. We can appreciate that.”
“Thank you,” Jeongguk said with a bow that felt ironic. Being at the bottom of the pile seemed to be working to his advantage.
“If you are able to start tomorrow at seven o’clock sharp with your training, then the position is yours,” the man in the center said. Jeongguk raised his eyebrows, surprised, but then he felt his lips twitch in a smile.
“Really? You’re not joking, are you? All those interviews and you ask me? You—You don’t need to know anything more about me? That’s it?” he asked, suspicious. He earned a chuckle from the man on the left.
“Quite serious. The position needs to be filled immediately. You are able-bodied, and therefore suitable for the job. Pay is ten thousand won an hour. You’ll begin tomorrow at seven o’clock, and we will determine your dismissal time,” the man said. “You will be given your uniform on site and your information will be taken in tomorrow. Welcome to Dayangsong Palace.”
“Oh. That was very fast. Thank you. Thank you so much,” Jeongguk said with a profuse bow, three in a row. “Thank you, I will work hard for you. Thank you.”
“Dismissed.”
Jeongguk scrambled to his feet and bowed multiple times yet again, and then he backed up and slipped into his shoes, his mind sprinting. With one final flurry of bows, he exited the room and turned left, following the signs for the exit. He walked through the grandiose entrance hall, and then he slipped out the front doors, holding his breath as he walked. It wasn’t until he stepped over the threshold and back into the real world that he let out a laugh, fingers laced at the crown of his head as he spun in a circle.
Jeongguk, a low ranking alpha without a family, a thief to survive, was going to be working at Dayangsong Palace. The universe truly had a sense of humor.
***
At seven o’clock sharp, Jeongguk turned up to the front gates of Dayangsong Palace with just his backpack, having parked his bike half a mile back where it was safe.
“What is your business here?”
“Oh.” Jeongguk cleared his throat and faced the guard outside the iron gates. “My name is Jeon Jeongguk. I was interviewed yesterday for the—ah. Okay. Thank you,” Jeongguk awkwardly added when the guard stepped aside and gestured to the front doors. Feeling far too small, and feeling the way his wolf curled in on itself, Jeongguk quietly walked down the path as a cool April morning breeze swept through, making him shiver.
“Jeon Jeongguk?”
“Yes, that’s me.” Jeongguk came to a halt and folded his hands in front of him, and he eyed the guard who was walking through the entrance hall. He walked with a bounce in his step, wearing red hanbok with an embellished black sash around the waist, a black scabbard with a sword hanging off his left hip and swinging as he approached. He had some beads around his neck, but he wasn’t wearing any kind of hat or adornment on his head. His black hair was parted deeply to the side and swept off his face, and he looked rather young, though strapping and strong. He moved nimbly, and the closer he got, the more Jeongguk could catch a faint whiff of pine—an alpha.
“Good morning. I’m Jung Hoseok, palace guard.” Hoseok bowed, and Jeongguk returned the gesture. “I’ve been tasked with your onboarding and orientation, as well as aspects of your training. Welcome to Dayangsong Palace.”
“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you,” Jeongguk replied.
“Right this way, then. I guess it’s best to start with the paperwork, and then a tour. This is the first time I’ve done this, so I’m winging it,” Hoseok admitted, and Jeongguk grinned. “They said they gave me the job because I’m ‘relatable.’” The air quotes came out, and Jeongguk snickered. “Honestly, I think they just gave me the job to keep me quiet and keep me busy.”
“Oh? Are you a troublemaker?” Jeongguk innocently asked, and Hoseok’s laugh was light.
“No, not a troublemaker. I’m just one of the younger guards here. I think the palace regrets hiring me, but they know my family, so there isn’t much they can do except smile and nod and pay me,” Hoseok responded as they turned the corner. “Plus, I heard you’re from the south. Gananhan? An alpha with no status. You’re exactly what they want.”
“Am I?” Jeongguk raised his eyebrows as Hoseok gripped the gold door handle.
“You won’t cause trouble over blood or family,” he quietly said with a quick upward flick of his eyebrows, and then he yanked open the door and added with cheer, “Right this way!”
Hoseok sat Jeongguk down in what looked like an office space that was rather elaborate—paintings hanging on the wall, file cabinets, plants (Jeongguk wondered if he would have to water them), the works. Hoseok sat down behind a desk made of what had to be solid mahogany, and Jeongguk sat in the chair across from him. Humming to himself, Hoseok turned on the computer that was available to him, and then he pulled out the keyboard and cleared his throat.
“Full name and date of birth.”
“Jeon Jeongguk. First of September,” Jeongguk replied as Hoseok typed.
“Rank and status?”
“Alpha. No status. Commoner. No known blood relatives. Orphan,” Jeongguk listed dully, and Hoseok hesitated before typing in the information.
“Age presented?”
“Sixteen.”
“Rut cycle schedule? Frequency and duration.”
“Four times per year. Full moon. February, May, August, November. Two to three days,” Jeongguk rattled off, used to having to disclose such information to the wealthy snobs he worked for in the north. Nobody wanted an alpha in pre-rut cleaning their home, especially if there was an unfaithful occupant of the house (there often was).
“When not at the palace, do you live alone or with others? If with others, please elaborate.” Hoseok asked, and Jeongguk rubbed his lips together.
“With others. Two alphas. They’re mated.”
“No shit. Are they really?” Hoseok sounded fascinated, forgetting that he had to type in Jeongguk’s responses. “Sorry, I just—look, all of this information is just to keep palace personnel informed and safe.”
“It’s fine. I get it.”
“So I’ll need to ask about scents, as stated by your healer.” Hoseok glanced over at Jeongguk, and Jeongguk sighed. No matter rank or status, everyone went to some kind of healer just after presenting, mostly to confirm rank and scent. Jeongguk had been no exception.
“Mine, or the alphas I live with?”
“All of it.”
“Rainwater. Fresh rainwater. That’s mine,” Jeongguk replied. “As for the mated couple in the house, one is teakwood, and the other is apple cinnamon.”
“Thank you. As far as pay goes, the palace prefers to provide a paper check on a weekly basis. Does this suit you?” Hoseok asked, peering at Jeongguk in interest. Jeongguk shrugged.
“I don’t really care how I get paid, as long as I actually get paid.”
“Great. Easy. Uh… schedule. You’ve been asked to work five days each week,” Hoseok said, and Jeongguk hummed in interest. “Monday, Wednesday, and Thursdays from seven o’clock to seven o’clock, and Fridays and Saturdays from noon to midnight.”
“Jesus fuck,” Jeongguk murmured, trying not to laugh in disbelief. The job had been appealing and the pay would be phenomenal for him, but the hours? Not that it was surprising, in the grand scheme of things. He was an alpha without status—again, cheap labor. This was what he was made for. “Do I get a break to eat?”
“Yes. You get a thirty-minute break at eleven and an hour break at five,” Hoseok said cheerfully. “And on Fridays and Saturdays, you have an hour break at three o’clock and a thirty-minute break at eight-thirty.”
“Guess there’s a lot to clean,” Jeongguk said wryly, but then he shrugged. “Yeah, that’s fine. Thank you.”
“Excellent. You’re still frowning, though,” Hoseok noticed, and Jeongguk sat back in the chair.
“I don’t know. I guess I was just expecting things to be a lot more formal,” he admitted. “I mean, this is the palace, you know? And it kind of feels like I’m doing orientation for the local grocery store as a cashier. No offense to you. You’re doing a great job. It’s just… weird.”
“Can I be straightforward with you?” Hoseok asked, and Jeongguk nodded. “You’re working at the palace with no status.”
Jeongguk was waiting for Hoseok to say more, but Hoseok just clamped his mouth shut and folded his hands politely on the desktop, eyebrows slightly raised as he stared Jeongguk down. The conversation then became silent. Hoseok was saying everything Jeongguk needed to hear without saying a word.
“Okay, let’s begin the tour!” Hoseok said with the same enthusiasm, standing up and adjusting his scabbard and the top of his hanbok. Jeongguk thought to fix some of his clothing, but he just nodded to himself and followed.
Hoseok did, indeed, take Jeongguk on a tour of the entire palace. He showed Jeongguk different rooms, chambers, the kitchens, the staff room, the cleaning supplies, the hallways towards the residents’ rooms, the throne room, the bathrooms, the gardens, a clinic with medical assistance. Jeongguk mentally mapped everything as best as he could, because he knew it would all be relevant when he got to work soon enough. Each room was ornate and unlike anything Jeongguk had ever seen before.
“Make sure you only use these bathrooms,” Hoseok pointed out, and Jeongguk took note. “If you use any other bathrooms and they find out, you’ll be fired. Some things are also offenses punishable by execution, so don’t be an idiot.”
“Oh? Like what?” Jeongguk wondered as they continued to walk down the hallway. Hoseok lowered his voice a little.
“If you so much as look at King Youngho’s son the wrong way, you’re done for,” he quietly said. “You either kiss the prince’s feet or offer up your own life for him. The only people who can even think about touching the prince are pureblood alphas who are seeking to mate, maybe a lucky beta. The rest of us are expendable.”
“Lovely. Anything else?” Jeongguk asked.
“Let me think... Eating something that hasn’t been served to you. Talking shit about the Park family in any capacity. Stealing from the palace. Doing your job poorly,” Hoseok listed. “All offenses that could get you hanged, depending on the king’s mood. He’s not crazy, but he has no heart. He wants his son mated and he wants the poor to remain poor. That’s it.” Hoseok perked up purposely. “Do you want to see where the library is?”
So they continued along their tour and found the library without going inside, Hoseok rambling on about the kind and wise librarian. He provided some history and pointed out as much as he could, speaking with enthusiasm that sounded believable at first, but slowly, Jeongguk began to get the feeling that Hoseok was testing his own limits.
“Okay, here we are. You haven’t asked a lot of questions,” Hoseok said as they stopped by a door, and he began to rummage for a key. “I’ve done most of the talking, and we’ve been touring the palace for almost an hour. Are you okay?”
“Just, you know. Taking it all in.” Jeongguk cleared his throat. “I’m an orphan from Gananhan, Hoseok-ssi. It’s almost an hour by bicycle for me to get here, and I just saw someone being brought from one end of the palace to the other in a little chariot. There isn’t much I can say.”
“It’s just because he’s old,” Hoseok said in a dismissive attempt, but then he blew out a breath and opened the door—a closet. There were what looked like uniforms hanging along racks. Hoseok ushered Jeongguk inside, and then he closed the door, vacuum-sealing them inside. “Listen, I get it. Most new staff who come in here from the south don’t last more than a month. But you’re the first one my age who’s been hired in a long time, so I guess I’m just hoping you’ll be different.”
“That’s very cliché of you,” Jeongguk deadpanned, and Hoseok clicked his tongue as he began flicking through the clothing selection. Hoseok gave Jeongguk a relatively good vibe, and his scent was mellow. Jeongguk rarely opened up to strangers right away, always wary, but Hoseok seemed to be an open book with very little to lose.
“We live in a warped fairytale,” Hoseok replied with a chuckle. “Clichés are everywhere. Just promise me you’ll try. I’ve never been offered the chance to do orientation and intake, so I don’t get to brainwash people into staying, you know?”
“Wow,” Jeongguk said flatly, and Hoseok burst out laughing, the scabbard on his hip swinging as he reached up higher.
“Listen—” Hoseok dropped his heels again, now holding some clothing in his arms. “I only became a palace guard because of the prince. I don’t have any other reason to be here. This job is hell. The king is an idiot. But I’m telling you all this in a soundproof closet without security cameras because I would be executed in a heartbeat for saying it anywhere else.”
“Only because of the prince, huh?” Jeongguk quirked an eyebrow. “Thought he was a nightmare.”
“You and everyone else,” Hoseok mumbled, but then he sighed. “Okay, that’s your uniform. It’s just plain old modern hanbok. Black only. Wear a black shirt underneath. Honestly, go for black underwear, too. I wouldn’t take chances. Make sure it’s buttoned. Also, you’re either going to have to cut your hair or tie it back, or find a way to control it. You can’t draw attention to yourself. Rule number one that no one tells the new hires.”
“Well, I guess it’s my luck that I have the rogue palace guard doing my intake,” Jeongguk said as he accepted the black modern hanbok from Hoseok’s arms.
“Blame the prince.” Hoseok eyed Jeongguk carefully. “I went to school with him. He’s not a nightmare. He’s just not the son the king wants him to be. Come with me, let’s get you set up with the keys you’ll need, and then I’ll show you the cleaning cart that you’ll be able to wheel around with you wherever you want, if you need it.”
Jeongguk followed Hoseok, his mind racing as he tried to collect the little bits and pieces of information that Hoseok was dropping. Jeongguk was nosy but quiet. He liked to know the ins and outs of a place and its inhabitants, liked to know their behaviors and habits. So far, it seemed that Hoseok was trying to say that the gossip about Prince Jimin was largely falsified, and that the king had no issue executing anyone. There seemed to be a very precarious balance of power at Dayangsong Palace, and a tendency to turn a blind eye.
Hoseok handed over a set of keys, warning Jeongguk to use them only for good and not evil. Then he gestured to the black cart that had a black draping with gold embellishments on it to cover the cleaning supplies—easy for Jeongguk to wheel around, discreet and unassuming.
“There isn’t really a rhyme or reason to things,” Hoseok said. “It’s your job to be attentive. You clean as much as you possibly can during your shift, and only the rooms listed on your roster.” Hoseok beckoned to the roster attached to the cart. “Don’t go anywhere near the king and queen mother’s chambers in the east wing—they have their own cleaner. But it looks like you’re responsible for Prince Jimin’s bedroom, so please don’t do anything stupid. Clean and leave. That’s all. Be there at your designated time slot. He knows not to go into the room when it’s being cleaned. You’re invisible. Sometimes seen, but never heard. That’s it.”
“Got it.”
“Cool. It’s just the normal cleaning,” Hoseok said with a smile. “The deep cleaning happens every month, and the rest of the palace cleaning staff will discuss that with you when the time comes. And if you need to find me, my little hideout is in the west wing near the library—that office I brought you to.”
“Thank you, Hoseok-ssi.” Jeongguk bowed deeply in gratitude, and Hoseok waved his hand dismissively.
“Yah, don’t do that. It was nothing. Most of the guards who get saddled with new hires just take their information and throw them to the literal wolves after about ten minutes,” Hoseok mentioned. “They set you up to fail. So I hope I didn’t do that.”
“You did more than enough. I’ll be fine. Thank you,” Jeongguk said with another bow, and somewhere in the distance, bells began to chime, signaling that it was ten o’clock.
“Good luck.” Hoseok nodded his head once, and then he turned and walked away, leaving Jeongguk to stare at the roster and figure out what he was supposed to do.
As it turned out, cleaning a palace was not as difficult as Jeongguk had assumed it would be. He started small, dusting around the windowsills, and then he focused on the roster and held his breath when he used a key to unlock the first room, as if he expected some kind of explosion. Without scent blockers, he was certain that his scent would have drowned the entire west wing of the palace in a downpour of anxiety. But he remained neutral as he cleaned his first room (a meeting room), rather proud of himself.
To his surprise, he did indeed go relatively unnoticed. People who passed him in the hallways didn’t even acknowledge him, even if Jeongguk bowed his head. When he walked into a bathroom to clean, there was a pretty female omega seated on the futon in the sitting area, focused only on her phone. She didn’t even look up at Jeongguk, her eyes only catching the black cart. She smelled distinctly like roses, though, which led Jeongguk to believe that perhaps she was one of the gardeners.
Jeongguk had only caught a vague glimpse of the gardens, so during his quick break, he decided to drop into the staff kitchen, grab a gimbap roll, and eat on-the-go so he could maybe sit in the gardens. Hoseok hadn’t said the gardens were off-limits, so Jeongguk strolled the quiet halls, still feeling wildly out of place and almost like he had dreamt up the entire job. He walked through doors to the open-air breezeway, and then he took another bite of his gimbap and turned left onto the cobblestone.
The gardens were absolutely gorgeous, breathtaking in a multitude of colors. There were fountains and ponds, little bridges, large trees that were hundreds of years old. It felt more like a zen garden. Jeongguk walked down the path, and then he located a bench. He paused to sit, but then he looked to the right, and his breath caught in his throat.
Across the pond and through one small garden, there was a fence with a ledge. Sitting high on top of the fence was a young man about Jeongguk’s age. He was dressed in slate grey cotton pants and a pale, seafoam green t-shirt tucked in. His muted blonde hair was soft and hanging in his eyes, which Jeongguk only knew because the man was sitting sideways atop the ledge, straddling it with his palms pressed in front of him. He was barefoot, and Jeongguk couldn’t make out many of his features, but even from a distance and seeing just his side profile, he was striking.
“Shit,” Jeongguk whispered to himself, because the man suddenly turned his head and caught Jeongguk’s eye, and Jeongguk was fisting a gimbap and dressed in what was obviously the clothing of a staff member. But even though he was caught, he couldn’t look away. The man stared at him, stared with purpose, and Jeongguk thought to run, because he suddenly realized who was sitting on the ledge.
The prince. That’s Prince Jimin.
Jimin lifted his right hand. He formed a pointer finger and set it against his lips. Then he swung his leg over the ledge and jumped down, disappearing onto the other side.
***
“But are you keeping the job?”
“I guess.” Jeongguk tilted his head and slurped up as many noodles as he could shove into his mouth, and before even chewing half half a dozen times, he shoved a piece of kimchi into his mouth, completely satisfied.
“‘I guess,’ he says, when he has a weekly paycheck coming in,” Taehyung said to Yoongi, wiggling his chopsticks in his noodles.
“It’s weird, okay?” Jeongguk threw himself back in his chair. “They interview the masses, they pick me specifically because I have no status, they send a guard who’s never trained a new hire, and then they throw me right into it. There was no onboarding process, nothing.”
“Okay, but I had a friend who worked at a private school around the palace,” Yoongi chimed in. “And he was just like you—alpha with no status. But they hired him as a kindergarten teacher, you know why? Because he wasn’t important. He was poor and accepted whatever pay they gave him. He went unnoticed. He was expendable. He didn’t even have to prove that he studied education. They just gave him the position and he started the next day.”
“The north is weird as hell,” Taehyung added. “Anywhere in Gogwihan is. Everything’s about cheap labor. It’s how you can serve them, not what they can do for you. They don’t give a fuck what you gain out of it. They only want quick and dirty.”
“I mean, the guard? Hoseok? He even said that most new hires like me get about ten minutes of training,” Jeongguk said, shoving a soft-boiled egg into his mouth and chewing with a small frown.
“That’s par for the course,” Yoongi said, waving his hand dismissively. “Seriously. Dayangsong is broken, Gguk. The palace is the goddamn heart of it all. The job pays well, and you get your meals. If you end up hating it, then just quit. It’s not a big deal. You’re a free man. Your wolf is smart. Go with your gut instinct.”
“Yeah, but the prince. Prince Jimin. I saw him,” Jeongguk said, and Yoongi and Taehyung both paused with a bite halfway to their mouths. “I went to eat out in the garden in peace, and he was just sitting on the ledge. And he saw me.”
“Okay, so what? Are you going to get in trouble?” Taehyung wondered.
“Fuck if I know,” Jeongguk mumbled, stabbing a piece of kimchi with one chopstick. “Guess I’ll find out tomorrow morning.”
Tomorrow morning came, and Jeongguk approached Dayangsong Palace against the rising sun with his heart in his throat, thinking that he would be snatched up and escorted away for laying eyes on the prince. But to his surprise, he was able to sign his timesheet right at seven o’clock without a problem, and he took his cleaning cart (cleaning cart number 7) and checked his roster.
Today, he was supposed to clean most of the west wing, and that included Prince Jimin’s room and bathroom. He had to wipe down, vacuum, dust, make the bed—the works. Jeongguk flipped quietly to the next day’s roster and noticed the same thing. He was the one who was designated to make Jimin’s bed every morning and refresh his bathroom, and always at the same time. He had to clean from nine-thirty to ten o’clock, which meant he had to be quick, and he couldn’t be early or stay late.
After focusing on dusting the windowsills of the tea room, Jeongguk checked his watch—nearly nine-thirty. Pulse racing, he headed down towards the west wing to where he knew Jimin’s bedroom was, and he rolled the cart quietly down the hallway, glancing at the paintings hanging on the walls and bypassing a few smaller rooms. Jimin’s room was at the end of the hall, the door facing Jeongguk, and there was always a guard at the other end of the hall at all times, who Jeongguk had already bowed to with his eyes averted.
“Jesus,” Jeongguk muttered when he slipped into Jimin’s room, amazed. He had been expecting something grandiose, but the room was actually quite cozy. There was a four-poster bed with hangings that didn’t appear to be used, white sheets, and a white comforter. The large decorative pillows in shades of white and pale blue were strewn across the floor, likely because Jimin had moved them to sleep. There was a chaise lounge at the foot of the bed with some pillows, another directly across from it where Jeongguk rested the cart. Off to the left was a massive three-panel window seat, a desk in the corner, and a full-length mirror near the walk-in closet. To the right was the bathroom, which had a separate room for a toilet, a jacuzzi bathtub, a walk-in shower, and two large sinks.
This is going to be a fuck ton of work.
But Jeongguk got right to it. He started by making the bed, since today wasn’t the day to change the sheets. He evened out his breathing, inwardly meditating so that he was able to keep himself unaffected by any scents he could possibly pick up. There was no choice but to work with haste, never touching anything for too long as he bustled around the room and cleaned up. Jeongguk ducked into the bathrooms and began to wipe everything down, clean the sinks and the shower and the massive bathtub, clean the toilet. He mopped up the floor until it was nearly sparkling, and then he quickly vacuumed the carpet in the bedroom before moving to the windows. He cleaned the glass on the windows, wiped the windowsills, and finally made it to the last few surfaces in the room, exhausted. Thirty minutes was all he had been given, so everything had to be done at top speed but with efficiency. Jeongguk grabbed a cloth to wipe down the nightstand, and then he would be finished, and right on time—
The bedroom door suddenly flew open, and Jeongguk froze with the cloth pressed to the nightstand, the book he had lifted up still in his other hand. In slow motion, he finished wiping down the surface, his heart pounding so hard he was sure it was going to beat out of his chest. He heard the bedroom door close, so he almost breathed a sigh of relief and thought it was a mistake, but then he heard footsteps. Finally, the bed to his left sank, and Jeongguk closed his eyes for a moment.
“You’re late.”
Jeongguk glanced at his watch—10:02AM. Two minutes late, and all because he had wanted to go the extra mile to wipe down the damn nightstand. Panicking internally but determined not to show it, Jeongguk straightened up with a small sniff and gently set the book down, using one finger to push it onto an angle as it was before he had entered the room.
“I apologize,” Jeongguk quietly said with a bow, avoiding eye contact with the crown prince of Dayangsong.
“You’re new. I haven’t seen you around before until yesterday.”
Jeongguk wanted to keep his eyes averted, but then Prince Jimin slid his hands back against the down comforter of the bed Jeongguk had just made, slouching a little so he could tilt his head to try and catch Jeongguk’s eye. Determined not to be a submissive fool, Jeongguk cleared his throat quietly and lifted his chin, his eyes locking onto Jimin’s.
Shit.
Prince Jimin was nothing short of angelic. He was dressed in luxury brand white workout gear, clearly ready for a tennis lesson (Jeongguk was privy to some of the prince’s schedule now out of necessity). His hair was a soft shade of blonde, combed back with a few rogue strands hanging onto his forehead, complete with an undercut. His eyes were a piercing honey brown color, skin porcelain smooth and unmarred, cheeks with a hint of natural color to them, full lips turned up at the corners in a tiny smile. Jeongguk was employed by the palace, but he wasn’t blind. Jimin was stunningly beautiful, so much so that Jeongguk’s wolf immediately became unsettled, almost rowdy, gripped by the omega prince.
“Are you the new hire? What’s your name? You can speak. I won’t tell,” Jimin said with mischief dripping from every syllable, eyes sparkling. The moment his scent spiked, though, Jeongguk knew. It hit him like a brick wall at top speed, a wave of vanilla peppermint that seemed all-consuming. It was likely nothing to anyone else, but to Jeongguk, it was nearly debilitating. Perhaps he was so used to alpha scents that an omega’s sweet scent was too much for him to handle. That had to be it.
“Yes, Your Highness. My name is Jeongguk,” Jeongguk responded, flicking his eyes downward towards Jimin’s feet. His wolf balked at the instant feeling of forced submissiveness, was more intent on seeking out the omega and learning. But for what? Why now? What was going on?
“Jeongguk.” The name rolled off Jimin’s tongue like sweet honey. “And you are new. So that—” Jimin let out a breathy little grunt as he lurched forward and grabbed the book off his nightstand to set in his lap— “must be why you’re not crying at my feet just because I walked into my own room.”
“I… Should I?” Jeongguk asked, confused as he tried to settle his wolf with very little success. Jimin’s next little breath hinted at laughter.
“In your defense, I’m meant to give you a grace time of two or three minutes to pack up and go to the next room,” Jimin airily replied. “But truth be told, you’re off the hook, because I just wanted to catch you here and see if you were really the new hire.”
“I was just finishing up when you entered,” Jeongguk replied as if he needed to explain himself. Jimin scooted off the bed and stood beside Jeongguk, gently tapping the book against the palm of his hand.
“I thought you were supposed to be seen and not heard,” Jimin quipped lightly.
“I thought you were, too.” The snappy response fell past Jeongguk’s lips so quickly that he didn’t have time to reel it back in. The moment it was hanging in the air, though, he had half a mind to drop to his knees. “I—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean that, I—please forgive me, I wasn’t—”
But Jimin was laughing, eyes sparkling, a grin on his face. “Oh, I like you,” he said in an amused drawl, and Jeongguk stopped stammering. “I also do quite like when my pillows are fluffed, if you don’t mind.” Jimin raised his eyebrows quickly, still grinning, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, and his scent. His scent was so strong and so happy that Jeongguk swore he was going to drown. He could hardly breathe, felt like he was choking on it, and not in a bad way. He was pleased. Jimin was pleased, and Jeongguk’s wolf, previously attempting to lie dormant as requested, picked up on it right away and perked up yet again.
“I—Okay. I’ll… Yes. I’ll fluff your pillows. I’m so sorry,” Jeongguk hastily added with a deep bow, jaw clenched, tempted to smack himself. He wasn’t one to grovel, but he wasn’t about to lose his job because of one slip-up. He didn’t want Prince Jimin to tattle on him.
“You have no reason to apologize,” Jimin said as he set the book down, and then he finally began to walk towards the door. He paused, turned around, and added, “I don’t bite. I promise.”
Jeongguk caught the last fleeting moments of the grin on Jimin’s face before the prince slipped out of his bedroom, pulling the door closed behind him. Jeongguk’s knees gave out slightly as he caught the edge of the nightstand, hating the way the adrenaline was rushing through him. He threw the cloth over his shoulder, and with shaking hands, he reached over and fluffed all of Jimin’s damn pillows just as he had requested. Then, feeling like he had just run a marathon, Jeongguk rushed over to the cart, threw the cloth onto it, made sure he had everything, and then yanked the door open and left the bedroom as quickly as possible.
The fear of losing his job or meeting the gallows resounded in the echo of his footsteps through the high-ceiling halls. The guilt ate Jeongguk alive as he rolled the cart to the next room, just a small bathroom, and when he was inside, he collapsed into the chair by the door with his head in his hands, trying to breathe deeply. His wolf was wild, heart matching, and he was deathly afraid that his anxiety would seep through the scent blockers.
“Calm down, just calm down,” he whispered to himself, blowing out a breath slowly while leaning his head back against the wall, dropping his hands into his lap. Jeongguk figured he would have a moment of solitude, but the door of the bathroom opened, and he almost fell off the chair in his scramble to get back to his cart.
“Woah, woah, are you okay? Easy.”
Jeongguk gripped the handle of the cart, chest heaving, and then he shook his hair out of his eyes (he hadn’t heeded Hoseok’s warning yet) and stared. Another man was standing in the bathroom now—tall, broad shoulders, perfectly symmetrical face, black hair parted to the side and combed off his forehead, full lips, and raised eyebrows as he eyed Jeongguk. He was wearing the same hanbok as Hoseok had been wearing, except his clothing was navy blue and black, and he didn’t have a sword.
“Everything alright?” the man asked, and Jeongguk’s shoulders relaxed a little. It was faint, barely there, but he swore he could smell caramel. It disappeared as quickly as Jeongguk caught it, but this man was surely an omega, and he was stunning. Just the way he was shifting his footing despite his smile said that he understood Jeongguk was an alpha without a word spoken between them.
“I’m sorry.” Jeongguk bowed deeply. “I’ll—I’ll go.”
“No, no, don’t go,” the man insisted, holding out an arm. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just using the bathroom, but you look upset. Forgive me for being forward, but I’ve been working here for five years. What’s wrong?”
“I’m not upset, just—just caught off-guard,” Jeongguk replied, and then he bowed again. FIve years was a long time to hold a job, so this man was to be respected. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be speaking to you, it’s just—”
“Yah, that rule only applies to the royals,” the man laughed, waving one hand. “Palace staff and caretakers can talk to each other. Kim Seokjin. I’m the palace librarian. Deductive reasoning would say that you’re the new hire.”
“Jeon Jeongguk,” Jeongguk introduced himself. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Why were you in a staff bathroom contemplating the meaning of life?” Seokjin turned and put his back to the wall, and then he imitated Jeongguk by putting his head back and resting his hands on his face. Jeongguk narrowed his eyes, and Seokjin dropped his hands with a grin.
“I just cleaned the prince’s bedroom and bathroom,” Jeongguk responded, still wary of the newcomer. Seokjin raised one eyebrow.
“And you’re that distraught?” He sounded confused.
“I overstayed my welcome by two minutes, and His Highness chose to come into the room just to catch me,” Jeongguk replied, and Seokjin sucked in a breath, shaking his head. “On purpose.”
“On purpose?” Seokjin chuckled. “Sounds like him.”
“I messed up,” Jeongguk admitted. “He—He gave me permission to speak, but I felt like an idiot the entire time, like he was just baiting me. I told him my name and everything.”
“Did he ask for your name?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you worried?” Seokjin shrugged.
“He told me he doesn’t bite,” Jeongguk flatly replied, and Seokjin snorted.
“So it was that kind of morning,” he muttered mostly to himself, and then he addressed Jeongguk. “He wasn’t baiting you. He was just playing. Hot tip for you, since you’re new and you’re cleaning his room—Prince Jimin has two sides to him. There’s the perfect angel his father wants him to be, and then there’s the real him that virtually no one knows. He’s a model prince and very sweet to everyone at the palace who doesn’t intrigue him. But if he’s asking for your name and saying things like that to you, then brace yourself.”
“Why?”
“Because now you’re on his radar, and he’s a pain in the ass,” Seokjin replied, sounding rather fond. “I speak from experience. Although he’s technically not even supposed to give me the time of day, considering my status is pathetic compared to him.”
“I’m an orphan from Gananhan with no status,” Jeongguk pointed out, and Seokjin crossed his arms.
“Well, you have me beat,” he said with a sparkle in his eyes. “What is it, your first day? Second day?”
“Second.”
“You’ll be fine. Just follow the rules and don’t mind Prince Jimin. He likes to break all of them when his father isn’t looking because he knows time is running out.” Seokjin’s words were vague, but he gestured towards the toilets. “I’ll do what I came here for and get out of your hair, but don’t hesitate to stop by the library if you need a quiet space during your breaks. People may say otherwise, but the library is open to everyone, not just the royals. Staff included. Relax, Jeongguk. Take it easy. You didn’t mess up.”
“Ah, thank you,” Jeongguk said with a deep bow, and Seokjin bowed his head and slipped past to use the toilet. Jeongguk politely slipped out of the bathroom and waited until Seokjin walked out, and Seokjin glanced over his shoulder and gave Jeongguk a thumbs-up before pulling open the door of the library and sneaking back in. When the halls were quiet, Jeongguk stepped back into the bathroom, and then he collapsed into the chair again.
This job has to be worth it.
Jeongguk was used to working alone. As a thief, he only ever bothered to pull Yoongi into his endeavors. He was a lone wolf in a multitude of different ways. So working in a palace where he was under a microscope with a smattering of other employees… difficult. It was a new challenge, and Jeongguk had to keep himself from panic-quitting just because he was uncomfortable. It was just a new experience, and he had to make sure that he kept that viewpoint.
mood: “strawberry swing” by coldplay
Jeongguk managed to make it through to seven o’clock that evening without any other mishaps, and then he clocked out right on time and dismissed himself into the dusk. With his street clothing back on (he had changed just before departing), he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up and shoved his hands into his pockets, walking briskly until he found the side street where he parked his bike. He unlocked it, tossed the chain into his backpack, and swung one leg over so he could begin pedaling.
Freedom.
It was a fifty-minute bike ride home, which was great exercise, but it was also cathartic. Jeongguk had to bike on a few roads, but he had his backroads as well, and at one point, he had to bike through a wheat field that had a narrow path flattened out from where people constantly walked or cycled through it. The wind blew through his hair as he flew down a hill, hood falling down, but it was pure happiness. His nose twitched as he smiled and turned into the wheat field, flicked his light on because it was getting dark now. He careened through the streets as he reached the south of Dayangsong, headed straight for Gananhan.
“Hey!”
“What in the world are you doing?” Jeongguk laughed the moment he approached home. Taehyung and Yoongi were outside, and they each had two bamboo sticks in their hands about the length of their arms.
“Drills,” Yoongi replied, and then he shifted his footing and began to drill Taehyung again, but it was rhythmic and practiced, something that the two alphas did quite often. Jeongguk was also highly skilled in stick-fighting, because Yoongi had taught him years ago. He also knew how to use a sword thanks to Yoongi, and Taehyung had helped him perfect the skill. Jeongguk parked his bike outside without even chaining it up (trust had been built up in this neighborhood), and then he sat on the tree stump outside the cottage and watched his two friends spar. Five minutes later, Yoongi tossed Jeongguk his sticks, and Jeongguk hopped up and began to drill with Taehyung.
“Got to meet the prince today,” Jeongguk said conversationally, his eyes trained on Taehyung’s face as he met Taehyung step-for-step, hit-for-hit. They paused between techniques, and Taehyung chose the next one before they started again.
“Did you?” Yoongi crossed his arms from off to the side. “Thought that was forbidden.”
“Well, he just barged into his room while I was cleaning, and he did it on purpose,” Jeongguk said, twisting his hips and then re-centering appropriately. “Even told me he did it on purpose. Asked for my name. All that shit.”
“So are you fired?” Taehyung wondered.
“No. He was kind of… feisty,” Jeongguk said after searching for the right word, crossing his sticks in front of his face and then stepping back for a moment to take a break. Taehyung shook his hair out of his eyes and twirled one stick in one hand, conceding. Jeongguk shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it onto the tree stump, and then he rolled his sleeves up. He had a full sleeve of tattoos on both arms, all in black ink. His left arm was a river that began at his wrist, fading into a forest and finishing with a sky that had two birds in it on his shoulder. His right arm was also a forest on his bicep with a full moon near his shoulder and a wolf’s profile wrapping around his forearm.
“Feisty how?” Taehyung asked.
“He told me he wouldn’t bite,” Jeongguk replied, and Yoongi snickered.
“I thought he was supposed to be a nightmare that no alpha wants to mate,” he said from memory, and Jeongguk blew out a breath, swinging his arms.
“I don’t know. I’ve had two palace employees tell me that it’s all just gossip. Met the librarian today, and he said that the prince is intrigued by me, so he’ll be a pain in the ass,” Jeongguk said, cranky already.
“Well, I think that will be a fun little challenge for you,” Yoongi said with laughter as Jeongguk rolled his eyes. He twirled one stick in each hand, and then he bounced a few times and beckoned to Taehyung.
“Yah, this kid’s scent is spiking because he’s that competitive. Don’t slip up,” Taehyung teased, amused. Jeongguk clenched his jaw, pleased that the scent blockers were wearing off so that he could distract Taehyung. Their sticks met again, and Jeongguk lost himself completely in the rhythm, trying to delete all the memories from the day so he could start fresh in the morning.
***
It was Friday, which meant that Jeongguk was slated to work from noon to midnight. He slept in until almost ten o’clock out of sheer exhaustion, and then he forced himself to down some porridge before hopping on his bike and yelling goodbye to Taehyung, who was using the kitchen table to cut fabric, and Yoongi, who was sharpening a blade outside.
The bike ride to the north went by quickly, and Jeongguk chained up his bike half a mile away and walked to the palace, wondering what he was going to do when it inevitably rained or snowed. He approached the palace, ready to show the new ID card he had been given yesterday on his cart, and he flashed it quickly and bowed before hurrying inside.
“Right on time!”
“Oh—hello,” Jeongguk said with a bow and a small smile, straightening up when Hoseok approached.
“Glad you’re here. Princess Yookyung is arriving soon for lunch,” Hoseok said. “The morning staff have been busy, but it would be really good if you were able to dust some of the paintings and portraits and wipe down the windows in the hallways.”
“Oh. Of course,” Jeongguk said with another small bow. “Is that on my list of duties today?”
“No, but see if you can squeeze it in,” Hoseok said with a hint of desperation. “I’ve been waiting for you to get here. I tried to tell a few of the other cleaning staff to do it, but they basically told me to get fucked without actually telling me to get fucked.”
“Is Princess Yookyung that much of a tight-ass?” Jeongguk murmured as he began to walk side-by-side with Hoseok to a small staff room, where he could get changed quickly.
“Not at all,” Hoseok replied, holding open the door. “She’s the opposite. It’s King Youngho’s expectations that we have to meet, and I don’t want to be on the chopping block if he sees dust when he’s showing his sister to the dining hall.”
“Your head wouldn’t be on the chopping block,” Jeongguk darkly said as he finished putting on his uniform. “I’ll do it. East wing?”
“Please,” Hoseok begged. “I have to go meet her son and get him settled. They’re staying the night. Prince Jimin will be pleased, but a little warning would have been nice. I hate when they show up at the last minute.”
“Don’t panic. I’ll do my best,” Jeongguk promised.
“Third day on the job and you’re already a lifesaver,” Hoseok sighed. “Thank you, Jeongguk. Just be glad you’re not a guard or a caretaker right now. Pure chaos. See you later.”
Jeongguk watched Hoseok jog off, holding his scabbard close to his body as he disappeared down the hall. Wishing he could just pop headphones in and listen to music while cleaning, Jeongguk dragged his feet to the supply closet and grabbed his designated cart, and then he did exactly what Hoseok had actually, quickly dusting the edges and corners of the paintings and frames hanging on the walls and using his stepladder to clean the windows until they shone. His roster said that he wasn’t supposed to go anywhere near Prince Jimin’s room until quarter to ten in the evening, when he was meant to “prepare the chambers for rest” (according to the register). He had no idea what that meant, other than that the fine print said to turn down the bed and provide fresh towels. Jimin had a caretaker who looked after him, preparing him for bed and staying by his side whenever Jimin requested it. Jeongguk was meant to be invisible.
He did, however, know about Princess Yookyung. She was King Youngho’s younger alpha sister, younger by only a year, and she was third in line to the throne, knocked down a peg by Jimin. The princess was married and mated to a beautiful pureblood omega woman named Narae, and they had a son, an alpha, named Namjoon—Jimin’s cousin, older than Jimin by one year, and fourth in line to the throne. Jeongguk also knew that the king despised his sister but played nice for the crowds. Rumors had always flown around that Yookyung disapproved of her brother’s way of handling the throne, but Dayangsong was a stubborn kingdom—why fix what they didn’t think was broken? Why change a world that suited so many of them?
Jeongguk finished the work Hoseok had given him and began to do what was on his schedule for the day, peeking around corners whenever he heard a bit of commotion. He happened to push his cart past when a group was walking towards the east wing for lunch, and he caught a brief glimpse of Kim Namjoon, the prince himself. He was tall and strapping and handsome, everything the king coveted, and he was wearing glasses and standing between his mothers as if simultaneously escorting and protecting them. They all disappeared and Jeongguk just stood there with his cart, feeling about two inches tall.
After his three o’clock break, Jeongguk got dragged into the kitchen to help with dishwashing, which was not surprising but tedious nevertheless. He couldn’t even push up his sleeves because of his tattoos, so he had to let his shirt sleeves soaked up water as he worked, lips twisted as he kept himself from voicing his complaints. Everyone was working in tense silence, as if no one dared to speak just in case they were being watched. Jeongguk still wasn’t sure he understood the politics of the palace, but he continued to wash the dirty dishes in silence.
At promptly quarter to ten, Jeongguk found himself in the hallway that led to Jimin’s bedroom, pushing his cart while reading the one line of instructions he had been given. There had to be something more to it, but all he knew was that he was going to fluff the absolute fuck out of Jimin’s pillows just to prove a point. Holding his breath, he slipped the key into the lock, and then he turned it and entered, dragging the cart in as well.
“...Okay,” he sighed when he saw that the room was empty.
“Such a relief, isn’t it?”
Jeongguk nearly fell to the floor in fright, because he had spoken too soon. Jimin was stepping out of his bathroom, placing the back onto one of his earrings with a lip-biting grin. He was dressed impeccably in an all-black suit that clung to every curve on his body, and Jeongguk had to sink into a bow to keep himself from staring. The shirt wasn’t even buttoned up all the way, so Jimin was playing a dangerous game, wherever he was going.
“Where are you going?” Jimin asked when Jeongguk silently turned to leave the room. He closed his eyes and paused, and then he turned his outstretched hand into a fist with a deep breath, moving away from the doorknob.
“To give you your privacy,” Jeongguk politely said, his eyes still averted.
“Don’t be silly. I know you’re here to prepare my room for sleep, and right on time,” Jimin replied. “But I’m getting ready to go out for a late dinner with my cousin, so here I am.”
Jeongguk nodded once, tilting his head a bit as his neck cracked. He suddenly found himself desperate to get out of the room, because his wolf was once again riled up just from Jimin’s presence. Calm down, I’m begging you, Jeongguk bargained quietly, grateful for the scent blockers more than ever.
“Sorry to disturb you,” Jeongguk apologized stiffly.
“So formal,” Jimin teased. “If anything, I’m the one disturbing you. On purpose. Sue me. Actually, you can help me. My caretaker is relatively useless and I think he’s waiting somewhere in the hall, so will you?”
Jeongguk lifted his eyes, and then he froze. Jimin was standing there with his hand palm-up, all fingers curled but his pointer finger. A necklace was dangling from that finger, and he was holding it out to Jeongguk with puppy dog eyes, expectant.
He’s testing me.
“I… apologize, Your Highness, but I don’t think that I’m—”
“Please, Jeongguk-ssi.”
Jeongguk choked on his next breath, coughing with his mouth closed as his wolf lost all sense of itself. Not a single person at the palace had yet to address Jeongguk with any kind of respect or honorific, mostly because Jeongguk hadn’t earned it and didn’t really deserve it in their eyes, given his lack of status. He was to be seen and not heard. He was expendable. He was a commoner from the south. And the crown prince, the heir apparent, was calling him “Jeongguk-ssi.”
Jeongguk narrowed his eyes suspiciously, and immediately, Jimin laughed.
“Tough crowd,” he joked. “I guess I can just put it on myself.”
Jimin started to lower his hand, but Jeongguk lunged forward on one leg but paused when Jimin raised his eyebrows, finger curling, eyes twinkling. There was a moment of silence, a stand-off of sorts, where Jeongguk tried to desperately communicate that he had been warned by Hoseok a thousand times to not even look at the prince. Perhaps Jimin was intuitive, because he clicked his tongue, a flicker of understanding in his eyes.
“Yes, you’ve been told not to come anywhere near me or even look at me wrong, or my father will punish you. While that holds true on his part, I’m an adult, and I’m asking if you’ll put this on me,” Jimin stated, plain and simple, as if there were no rules.
He likes to break all of them when his father isn’t looking because he knows time is running out.
Jeongguk wasn’t quite sure what Seokjin had meant, but even though Jeongguk had developed impossibly thick skin and rough edges over the years, he couldn’t help but find the prince to be just as intriguing as the prince supposedly found him. Without a word, Jeongguk took a few cautious steps forward, his eyes trained on Jimin’s, because in what world could he trust the omega prince? Who was to say that this wasn’t just an elaborate scheme to prove that Jeongguk was the dirt beneath the feet of any pureblood or royal? Who was to say that Jimin wouldn’t run to his father and relay the entire occurrence in full detail?
Fuck it.
Jeongguk had reservations in his life, but this wasn’t one of them. He took the final step and pinched the necklace with two fingers around the middle, avoiding touching Jimin’s skin, and Jimin released it from his fingers. He then slowly turned around, folding his hands together delicately and pressing them to his chest, his head turned slightly as he waited. With surprisingly steady fingers, Jeongguk unhooked the clasp, and then held his right hand over Jimin’s shoulder and reached his left hand around to grab the necklace, holding his breath to keep from touching Jimin at all costs. Gently, he fastened the necklace around Jimin’s neck, his pulse racing, and the moment he did, he almost collapsed for what felt like the thousandth time.
It’s him.
Jeongguk erased the subconscious thought from his mind instantly, as he stepped back as far as he could, because Jimin’s scent had sweetened the closer Jeongguk had gotten. Jimin turned around slowly, adjusting the necklace against his chest, eyeing Jeongguk carefully.
“You’re an alpha.” Jimin paused and licked his lips. “Aren’t you? I can’t make out your scent, but you are, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Jeongguk clenched his jaw tightly, silently grateful that the scent blocking tea he’d had for breakfast this morning (and the second helping he’d had for lunch) was still doing its job. Otherwise, poor Jimin would have been in for it. Jeongguk knew himself and his wolf well enough to know that neither one of them was in control right now. He had had two encounters with Jimin, and both times, he had feared for his job because without scent blockers, it would have smelled like a damn monsoon. His skin felt hot, his pulse was racing, his wolf was irritated, and he had never once encountered anything like this feeling before.
“Mm. Well, thank you, Jeongguk-ssi. I’ll leave now so you can ‘prepare my chambers for rest,’” Jimin said with air quotes, suppressing a laugh. Jeongguk stepped towards his cart, and then he took his chances.
“Why are you saying that?” he asked. Jimin paused just short of his bedroom door and glanced over. “I’m sorry, I know I’m speaking out of turn, it’s just… Why are you calling me that? Neither one of us is supposed to even be talking.”
“Do you not deserve to be respected?” Jimin asked, cocking his head to the side. He was solemn for a moment, but then his face burst into a sweet smile. “See you later!”
The door closed, and Jeongguk finally exhaled.