Chapter Text
Rumi was late to marriage. As the last of the blood of the House of Ryu, she should have married young and had children already; but as she was also an omega, things became more complicated. She would not be allowed an alpha scion of one of the other Houses; the blood and name of Ryu could not and would not be subsumed in another. And yet, there were few if any alphas who were not of noble blood yet of sufficient stature to be taken into the House. (An alliance with a beta, an alliance that might not produce progeny? Unthinkable.) Celine, devoted to her since her mother’s untimely death, had finally found a solution – the most prominent chaebol were of sufficient standing that a union with one of their heirs would be permissible, and unusually, the heir to the Lee group was not currently betrothed. The Ryu name could continue, the Lee family could gain access to the circles they could not attain by wealth alone, and everyone would benefit.
Rumi, on the whole, would rather Celine had not found a solution.
Still, she held on to the faint hope that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe the heir would be kind, and compassionate, and intelligent. Maybe he would be a good companion, someone who wasn’t stuffy, who was passionate about his interests, who didn’t have his nose in the air. Maybe they could even be friends.
Maybe pigs would fly.
Suppressing a sigh, she turned her attention back to the low-voiced instructions – not quite a lecture, but only just – that Celine was delivering. (It wasn’t like she hadn’t heard it all a hundred times before.)
“Your faults and fears must never be seen. Now, make your house proud, Ryu Rumi,” Celine stated solemnly. Rumi nodded, perfectly polite and patient, and Celine opened the door, ushering them into the teahouse where Rumi would met her soon-to-be mate.
The venue was traditional, tasteful, and understated, but Rumi wasn’t given much time to contemplate the décor as Celine hurried them to the private room. Rumi barely had time to register that there were three people standing in front of her before she sank in to a deep bow (not something she usually had to do, as a Ryu, but proper to perform for her soon-to-be-mated Alpha). She used the time to examine her prospective mate, letting her eyes trail up the impeccably tailored trousers that encased what seemed to be slim but muscled legs. As her eyes traveled upwards, she noticed something a little odd about the cut – it wasn’t quite traditional, though she couldn’t put her finger on how. Starting to rise, her eyes finally reached his hips –
And the curves there made it immediately clear that this was no he. Rumi’s eyes flicked up to the alpha’s face too quickly to really enjoy the beautiful waistcoat highlighting gentle curves and lean muscle, landing on an angular face with piercing brown eyes and a delicate mouth that was unfortunately drawn out in a frown. Rumi almost forgot that anyone else was there, which wasn’t helped when the alpha (and the two people next to her, though she couldn’t have said anything about what they looked like) bowed, the fitted suit showing the stretch of muscles on her back, and maybe fate was being kind to Rumi after all.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a deep voice as the three figures rose. “Annyeonghaseyo, Ryu-nim. It is an honor to meet you at last. I am Lee Seongmin; this,” he gestured to the woman, who was garbed in a well-tailored hanbok of questionable taste, “Is my wife, Lee Jeongsun, and we are honored to present to you our daughter, Lee Mira.”
Rumi gave her Celine-approved smile, feeling the woman at her back relax slightly. “Annyeonghaseyo, Lee-nim. It is an honor to meet you and your family.” She had planned to say something about a handsome son, but she didn’t know if that was appropriate with a female alpha, and the warmth she felt touch her cheeks when she thought about the alpha – about Mira – made her reluctant to ad lib. “I am Ryu Rumi, and this is my guardian, Kim Celine.”
Celine gave a small half bow, and gestured to the table behind them. “It is, as all have said, an honor to be here. Please, let us talk, and let the young people get to know each other,” she said with velvet smoothness. Seongmin gave what would have been a warm smile if it reached his eyes, bowed slightly, and withdrew along with his wife and Celine to a larger table, leaving the small one to the affianced.
Rumi concentrated on sitting down gracefully, aware she might trip if she didn’t, and smiled prettily at the Alpha. Mira paused for a moment, then sat as well, eyes sharp and searching, frown unmoving. Rumi drew herself up, unnerved by the stare and ready to deliver a scathing remark to the admittedly hot but also rude alpha in front of her, when a quiet throat clearing from behind her reminded Rumi of their audience. Deflating a little, she reached for the teapot waiting on the table and poured one cup, sliding it to Mira in silence, before pouring another for herself. Still conscious of Celine’s eyes heavy on her back, Rumi gave a perfect, demure smile, and took a sip of her tea. “A subtle blend,” she murmured, raising her gaze to Mira’s and inviting her reply.
Mira snorted, replying dryly, “As subtle as the threats that brought me to this table?” Her voice was low and smooth and decidedly wasted on such an asshole, Rumi decided, masking her own irritation behind a bland façade. Still, she would give Mira another opportunity for politeness, for making the best of a bad situation.
“Perhaps,” she said, noncommittally, “I wouldn’t know. But surely it would be relaxing to enjoy a sip.” She gestured again to Mira’s delicate porcelain cup, sitting untouched.
She was doomed to be disappointed. “Seriously?” Mira growled, before sighing and raising an unfairly graceful hand to her forehead. “I,” she enunciated venomously, “Am not some proper alpha.” Her scowl was nearly as sharp as her suit. “So don’t fucking pretend that I am.”
Maybe Rumi should have specified that when she wanted someone passionate, it didn’t extend to them being an asshole.
Rumi drew in a breath, starting to draw herself up, about to let her annoyance have free rein (to match temper with temper, tell Mira exactly how little Rumi wanted to be here and meet these thrice-damned expectations) when a sharp inhale and the click of a cup set a little too hard on a saucer snapped her back to reality. She slumped for a moment before returning to the perfect posture, perfect temperament, perfectly bland face that she was expected to wear, bitterness falling over her in a smothering blanket.
“I see,” she replied, knowing no-one would notice how dull her voice was. “Then I suppose you won’t have any opinions on the recent daegeum concert, either.”
It was like one of her old etiquette lessons, Rumi reflected, where she was free to make up her partner’s responses. (Mira’s stony silence never contradicted her.) She was near the end of her imagination and about to start making up events to talk about – she doubted Mira would know the difference, when she herself barely would – when a warm hand landed on her shoulder. “As pleasant as your time has undoubtedly been,” Celine said smoothly, “we have a few other duties to attend to this afternoon, Lee-nim. We will be taking our leave.” She eased the pressure enough to allow Rumi to rise, and they both bowed to Mira, then turned and bowed again to Mira’s parents, before walking Rumi out to the waiting car.
Celine didn’t need to give instructions to the driver; a quiet nod sufficed to start them on the long drive back to the estate. Rumi braced herself for the inevitable appraisal of her performance, holding back a wince at Celine’s quiet sigh. She looked up to meet Celine’s eyes. Celine opened her mouth to speak, then, as something unknowable flashed behind them, closed her mouth once more and looked away. Shame coiled in Rumi’s gut as she sank into the seat, one hand reaching up to grab the opposite shoulder before she caught herself and set her hands primly in her lap, trying hard not to clench them. (She must have done exceptionally poorly if Celine couldn’t even find anything to say.) The ride home passed in silence, Rumi more than once having to bite her lip to avoid asking how she could possibly have done any better with that to work with.
When they arrived, Rumi didn’t wait for the driver, unbuckling herself and throwing open the car door, not quite running up to her room. (Running would be impolite.) Closing the door behind her, she frantically pulled off the dress and nearly ran to the ensuite to get the hated makeup off of her face. Trembling, she nearly reached for a razor blade to purge the shame and disgust that filled her, then sighed, walking to her nightstand and grabbing her phone instead. She had promised Turtle she would do better, and there was no way she would disappoint her only real friend. Instead, she shot a quick text before going to her dresser and digging around for a pair of cargo pants, a sports bra and a very beat up tee.
[LavenderDemon 😈💜]:
I just had the most awful meeting. Meet me at the park in thirty?
By the time she’d thrown on her clothes and dug her skateboard and helmet from where she’d hidden them, she’d gotten her reply.
[ZeeTurtle 🐢🩵]:
I don’t get off work for an hour, but text me as much as you want, it’s slow today
I’m already texting another friend so no feeling guilty okay?
[LavenderDemon 😈💜]:
I’ll text, don’t worry.
Can you meet me after work?
She paused for a moment, debating, before sighing and typing something more.
[LavenderDemon 😈💜]:
I could use the distraction, it was a really bad day.
[ZeeTurtle 🐢🩵]:
Of course I’ll be there, we can work on your laser flips if you want
That will definitely keep you focused 😊
[LavenderDemon 😈💜]:
I said I needed a distraction, not more bruises.
You just want to see me eat pavement.
[ZeeTurtle 🐢🩵]:
Awww, that’s mean! 😢
You’re getting too good to eat it on that kind of trick
And you know the technicality of it will get you locked in 🥺
Rumi couldn’t help but chuckle; she could never really be mad at Turtle.
[LavenderDemon 😈💜]:
Fine, fine. You’re right.
I’ll be working on it.
Text me when you’re on your way or else you’ll startle me and I really will eat pavement.
Smiling and shaking her head, she slipped the phone into her pocket before she snuck out of the house to the one place she could be free.