Chapter Text
“My lord, are - you certain that you do not want a service? After all, at least a priest is present - to at least read a prayer of blessing when the body is lowered into the ground.”
Taehyung cast a cold look at the nervous morgue assistant, giving a terse shake of his head, “No. There is no need. The utterance of a prayer by any who would offer it will be enough as he is buried. I highly doubt he would have appreciated it though, and might even be cursing such a spectacle in the afterlife.”
At the mention of such outrageous blasphemy the morgue assistant bowed once, awkwardly, and the funeral director stepped forward, quiet and calm in comparison, “My lord. The funeral will begin soon. We will give you a few minutes alone with your departed brother. All you have to do is call out to us; we are on standby outside the curtain.”
They slipped away, the heavy velvet drapes falling back into place as if never disturbed, and Namjoon and Jimin exchanged glances, moving to stand next to Taehyung.
“It’s… time,” Namjoon murmured, hesitant as he seemed to struggle with what he was to say next, “Estranged as you were… and as much wrong as was done to you… I wouldn’t be surprised if you still felt bereft upon his passing.”
“We are here for you, Taehyung, as long as you need us,” Jimin added quietly, pausing as he glanced at the glass pane of the open coffin, yet to be sealed completely by the cover, “I… I have never met your brother and you have mentioned that you were identical twins but… the likeness is uncanny. The funeral director did a marvelous job at keeping your brother life-like - as if it was just this morning that he passed.”
“It certainly is. Gazing at how one would look like in death is a strange feeling,” Taehyung agreed, looking down at his departed twin brother, only a strange sense of melancholic calm and relief filling his chest, “To have gone out in such a manner… it is not unlike him. I only hope that the afterlife, if there is one, will see that he learns from the lessons from his life on this mortal coil.”
The words of disdain uttered at a funeral service would certainly have made mouths and tongues wag, at such disrespect especially at the passing of a close family member, but Namjoon and Jimin understood his relationship with Vante.
Long have they stood at odds, even as children, drifting apart when they hit prepubescence and then completely cut off when Vante absconded with a few family treasures to seek out a ‘free’ and vagrant life, causing his parents great grief and heartache, never seeing him again even when they passed and attempted to reach out to search for his whereabouts.
And then -
And then upon his unwanted return -
Taehyung stopped himself from thinking about the great rupture in his life that had caused him deep bitterness and pain, but forced himself, for the sake of ceremony, murmuring through gritted teeth, “Is he ready?”
“I believe he is,” Namjoon answered, sensitive to Taehyung’s tension and pain.
A curt nod was given, and Jimin scurried out to inform the funeral director. With a whisk, the makeshift velvet curtains were removed, partitioned off from one of the main halls, and the men bowed before the coffin, before beckoning Vante’s widow and child closer, for one last viewing. Only a few guests had come, or, had been allowed to come, given Taehyung’s strict directions that Vante’s funeral be quiet and private as possible, in light of the reputation he had earned himself in the estate and in the town and among the townspeople, not wanting his childhood home nor his family plot to be made anymore of a spectacle. Not that Vante had friends he knew of.
Reprobate. Devil. Criminal.
For the life of him, Taehyung could not understand how his twin brother had chosen to take such a path, especially with everything handed to them with a silver spoon, with wonderful loving parents unlike so many of their peers, everything in life set for them even if they involved themselves minimally with management of the estate, welfare of the orchards and the townspeople, why he had run off the way he did, into the night, indulging in depravity.
Why Vante had returned and ruined his life, staking his claim to inheritance of Willow Hall, the beloved home he stood in now, tarnished everything he knew and loved…
Why…
Taehyung felt his heart ache with pain, amazed that the old wounds were still festering even after three years had passed since the wedding, as the old familiar scent of sweet, rain-soaked vintage roses filled his nostrils, stirring his hardened heart, eyes automatically lifting to the slender figure all draped in black that approached the coffin, holding onto his toddler son…
The little boy who bore an eerily identical visage to his father, and to him.
If he let himself daydream, let himself slip into a dangerous fantasy, it was so easy to imagine the little boy as his very own…
Taehyung held himself even more rigid, keeping his features stoic and icy cold as the widow approached and bowed stiffly before the coffin, speaking in soft, dulcet tones to his son, who seemed stubborn and refused to do the same, clinging to his father, face buried in his shoulder.
“Taeyong, please, just once. We must - say goodbye to daddy. It’s the last time, I promise.”
The two-year old finally lifted his face, but blinked and pouted, standing ramrod straight when he was made to stand, while the widow sighed, the only feature visible under the mourning veil a set of full, rosy lips, perfectly shaped and betraying his beauty, bending down despite the heavy velveteen mourning dress.
Taehyung watched unwillingly, as the widow continued to coax Taeyong, rubbing his small shoulders, whispering sweet words, and what sounded like promises, never chiding or raising his voice at the little tot. He watched the interaction, seeing reluctance written all over the little boy’s face, but eventually giving into his father, relaxing and bowing once, though the grip on his father’s skirts were tight, fists white as he clenched them, eventually turning and gesturing to be lifted, which the widow obliged immediately, praising the little boy and scenting him, comforting him.
They seemed inseparable, similar to the night he had arrived, always holding onto one another.
As per what ceremony dictated, and as the last living relatives Vante had, the widow hesitantly moved to stand by Taehyung’s side, bowing in deference to the younger brother of his deceased husband, Taehyung not missing how Taeyong seemed to shirk away in his presence, perhaps a little disturbed that his father had a doppelganger, an unknown uncle of sorts who bore the exact same features, identical twins.
It was certainly an unnerving occasion, and Taehyung did not blame Taeyong for being wary and uncertain and on edge for it.
He himself was on edge, not only because he’d been forced to arrange and participate in the funeral of his estranged brother, forced to return to his childhood home that Vante had taken over.
Forced to return to him.
To Kim Seokjin.
With a thud, the casket was closed, and yet Taehyung could not find it in his heart to feel sorrow. Perhaps it was sacrilege, but instead, with the shutting of the lid and the click of the locks, something close to relief washed over in his heart, comforted in the knowledge that there was no longer any ill that his brother could wreak upon this earth, and have the consequences spill over his family.
He allowed himself to cast one glance over Seokjin’s figure, still and silent as he was, the black veil hiding any sort of emotions expressed. But he held Taeyong closely, tightly, the little child clinging just as hard to his father, as they marched out of his home, a small procession down the road, and towards the nearby family plot and vault, ancestors, including his parents, interred there for eternal rest.
But because of Vante’s reputation and his wayward behaviour while he had been alive, he was to be buried a little farther from the central area, as Taehyung had dictated, as his brother once wished and declared not to be buried with ‘their lot’.
He watched with detached eyes and heart as the casket was slowly lowered into the newly dug out ground, and the priest, as the morgue assistant had conveyed, read out a few passages in calm and measured tones, a last resort, Taehyung supposed, to save his wretched brother’s soul.
A cursory tossing of a flower onto the coffin before dirt was piled over it and the grave filled, one by one, those who were present took their turns, a grim and silent atmosphere taking hold of the service. Again, Taehyung noticed the young son refusing to toss anything, leaving Seokjin to toss two flowers, one in his son’s stead, before the gravediggers began their task of filling the hole with earth.
Though the funeral was over and Taehyung was grateful for it, there was still much to be done.
So much to dig up and to sort out.
The short three years his brother had taken control of Willow Hall, what havoc had he wreaked?
To set everything back into its rightful place.
But he could not do it alone.
He could not do it without interacting with the one person who had hurt him most, after his brother.
His brother’s widow.
His former lover and companion.
Seokjin.
*
Taehyung made no bones about it; dinner was a terse affair, dining with Seokjin and Taeyong in the aftermath of the funeral. As exhausting as the afternoon had been to entertain and thank the few guests that had come, Taehyung found it much easier to deal with the people, tiring as it was, dispensing and dealing in business with the morgue assistant, the funeral director, and the undertakers who had journeyed from the nearby town all had been much, much easier than sitting in awkward, stilted silence with his former paramour and his nephew whom he’d never met until today. He was grateful for Namjoon and Jimin’s presence, engaging in quiet and polite conversation, ensuring that the strange and unorthodox family was not left alone.
But as weary and worn as he was, and as much resentment he held towards Seokjin for having chosen his brother over him, he could not deny how it felt as if his soul was being watered, nourished almost, by the sweet angelic visage of the omega.
The Gods were cruel and unkind, for making Seokjin’s beauty unchanged, in fact, more beautiful than his memories, ethereal and fae-like even in his sad and sombre demeanour.
And though he would never forget how beautiful Seokjin was, seeing him in the flesh was almost like a bolt of lightning hit him when he first entered the dining hall with Taeyong.
Even grave, even when draped in the plainest and most drab of mourning clothing, Seokjin managed to effuse the room, soften it with his presence, his beauty. Fair skin, dainty and slim hands and wrists, full, rosy lips and soft, doe-like eyes that were often downcast and demure, thick, dark hair done up neatly and tidy. The material nipped at his waist, hinting at his slender grace and gentle curves of his hip outlined as Taeyong was hitched on his waist.
And his scent… his scent that had haunted him throughout the proceedings all afternoon, lingered in every nook and cranny and space of the rooms he had wandered through, it conjured up unwanted memories, dredged up unnecessary thoughts and emotions that Taehyung had long locked away.
But damn it all.
Seokjin was still so, terribly beautiful.
It was almost frightening how perfect the omega looked.
It felt like a thousand knives stabbing him in the heart.
He wondered, with grim amusement, if Vante was turning in his grave, if he was laughing at the torment of his brother in the afterlife? Having claimed and taken Seokjin away? Pupped him up and left an heir?
The memory of the betrayal sobered him, and he had merely nodded to acknowledge Seokjin’s presence before they partook in their meals.
It was only when Seokjin had requested to be excused in order to tuck Taeyong in bed, that they had engaged in conversation.
“If… it is alright, I intend to move my belongings here, to Willow Hall,” Taehyung informed the widow, serious and business-like in tone, “I will sleep here tonight, in my old bedroom which, I understand has been left alone?”
Seokjin bowed and nodded, shifting the drowsing toddler in his arms, “Yes, of course, my lord. We… anticipated as such and had your chambers cleaned and dusted. They should be ready for you… you…” the omega chewed slightly on his bottom lip, Taehyung gritting his teeth in a bid not to be moved by such a gesture, “You need not ask me my permission, my lord. The estate… Willow Hall is yours, not mine.”
“I inquired just in case you had repurposed my room. Where do you and the little one reside?” Taehyung asked, “I do not want to disturb the two of you. I will be up late discussing matters of the estate with Namjoon and Jimin.”
“W - we live… we live outside of the main hall, my lord,” Seokjin said, sounding a little hesitant, eyes cast over and out of the windows, to the grand yard.
Taehyung slowly nodded. It made sense; Willow Hall had an annex building a five minute walk away from here that had been open to guests while his parents were alive and busy entertaining, but it was also old family tradition, or so he had been told, for the annex building to be used as the private quarters of the omega or bride of the Kim family of Geochang. He was surprised by his brother’s generosity.
If it had been him, he’d likely done the same…
Getting a hold of himself, his voice was slightly gruff as he spoke, “Make sure to take a lantern out with you. And have someone accompany you, Hogeon or Kiwoo. It is dark out.”
The omega seemed to flush slightly at that, bowing quickly, “Yes, my lord. Lord Namjoon and Lord Jimin, I will take my leave.”
“Of course, good night, Seokjin,” Jimin said kindly, Namjoon smiling and waving, Taehyung grateful that in his stead, his two friends were able to be friendly and warm with the omega.
The trio had retired soon after from the dining table, moving to the cosier confines of his father’s old study. Taehyung sat in the slightly worn upholstered chair his father used to sit on, grateful to find that there were parts of the manor that remained in tact and neglected by his brother, having turned away in disdain at the state of the rooms Vante had occupied in the west wing, where his body had been found.
By the dim light of the candles that lit the room, Taehyung sipped some calming herbal tea, trying to take stock of the whole situation and to sort out the mess that ensued with his brother’s passing. He watched and sighed a little, Namjoon and Jimin sifting through piles of paper.
Dropping some of the sheafs, Jimin let out a loud sigh of his own, rubbing his forehead and giving Taehyung a rueful look.
“Verdict?”
“Personal documents are a mess,” Jimin reported, shaking his head a little, “Looks like Vante never cared to file any correspondences and simply left it in a pile. It seems in the last year or so he didn’t even bother with filing and tossed them into a pile in the corner. This is what we managed to salvage from his own study.”
Taehyung set his cup down onto the plate and took a deep breath, “I was ready for this. It’s going to be a huge undertaking. I don’t even want to think about how the other estates were managed, and I dread going to look at the state of the orchards, the villages, the forest under our patronage” he shuddered, feeling resentment stir in his chest, “The fact that he got rid of the entire management of our household, save old Doyeon makes me fear what he’s done with the orchards. You’d think he’d take care of the most significant source of revenue for our family, our townsfolk.”
“While I sympathise with you Jimin, perhaps there’s something of an anomaly here,” Namjoon interjected quietly, looking up at the two men, slightly baffled with the crease in his brow, “I do not know how it came to be - but - these documents have been kept neatly. Mind, they came not from your brother’s study but from the library, and from within this study itself. I’ve rifled through a few in this stack, for example, and they’ve been collated by date, and all pertain to the matter of one of the orchards called ‘Treasure’. The purchase of fertiliser, of new manpower, the reports of the harvest - they’re all here.”
“Someone must’ve been keeping record, Doyeon perhaps. He may not be in the best physical health, but he was always very sharp with accounts and a meticulous fellow,” Taehyung surmised, feeling a squeeze of gratitude for his father’s old butler, wondering why he had been kept around by Vante, when others had been kicked out, “Well, Namjoon, Jimin, I think that’s enough. We have poor lighting and - perhaps it’s best we plan ahead first before we deal with the documents. I - I do not want to keep you here too long. It’s bad enough that you’re accompanying me through this mess that has nothing to do with you.”
Jimin left the pile of papers, and came around to give Taehyung a reassuring squeeze of his hand, “If it’s your affairs, then we have everything to do with it. Don’t be ridiculous, Taehyung. What are friends for? You’ve just been through a death in the family and regardless of your relations - there’s the fact that it has now opened up an opportunity for you to reclaim what you’ve longed for all this time. Willow Hall.”
“Yes,” Namjoon agreed softly, seating himself opposite Taehyung, eyes warm with support and compassion, “It isn’t an easy time, loss never is. In a way, ghosts and spectres - they’re these unfinished matters that are left behind by those who pass on. And it is up to us, the living, to make do and make things better, if not right. Three years may not be a long time, but as we’ve seen, surveying the manor, the state of this place, the paperwork - it seems damage has been done long enough under your brother’s management. Much as I do not want to speak poorly of him.”
Taehyung shook his head, grateful for the umpteenth time that day for their presence, “No, I would not wrong you if you did,” his lips twisted into a bitter grimace, “Only twenty-five. Only twenty-five and yet he has left behind a world of pain. I am only sad that my parents did not outlive him to see happier days. But knowing how soft-hearted they were, they might have suffered more from his passing - even if he cut all ties with them. In any case,” he took a deep breath, having given much thought to how the next few days and weeks would run, “Tomorrow morning, I intend to gather some old personnel back to Willow Hall. Doyeon, Hogeon and Kiwoo have told me that some have stayed on in the village and towns nearby. I wish to personally request their services back and apologise for what my brother did. If they do return, I will speak to some of the staff here and inquire if they desire to stay. I will provide them severance pay and speak to the mayor and some of the industry leaders about re-skilling and rehiring, until they depart.”
Namjoon and Jimin nodded at that, “It seems like Vante kept a skeleton staff here, only to clean his wing on the daily, and even then, it didn’t seem like it was maintained much over the past few months.”
“I will stay here to sort some of the missing paperwork and rearrange everything,” Jimin offered, “Perhaps Namjoon can accompany you tomorrow morning. Is the meeting with the mayor still on tomorrow afternoon?”
“Yes. Mayor, constable, the local magistrate, and our business partner and manager of the orchards, we confirmed their attendance. I do not blame Jong ssi for refusing to turn up to the funeral today. He was always wrathful on my parents’ behalf, and never thought highly of Vante,” Taehyung sighed deeply, feeling the sheer weight of his brother’s awry ways, “I need to speak to him. No matter what, as the others have informed me, that he stayed on likely due to his loyalty to my father… he’s a stubborn man but… I am grateful for that.”
“They were happy for your return,” Namjoon said, recalling the meeting earlier that day, “That they would push aside all other engagements to come back here and discuss matters with you and to celebrate your presence in Willow Hall… it speaks volumes. I will do my best to help, Taehyung, before I head quickly back to Seoul to see to my meetings. Rest assured, I will return once they are over.”
“There’s really no need,” Taehyung insisted, guilt in his heart, “Same for you, Jimin. If you wish to return at any point at all - I encourage it. There’s no need to leave behind your own lives for mine.”
“Again, there you go with the nonsense,” Jimin scolded, his tone stern but kind, typical of his best friend who always looked out for his best interests, “How many times must we tell you? No more of this. We are here because we choose to be. Through hard times and the good, we’re by each other’s side.”
“I concur with Jimin,” Namjoon said with a wry smile, “You must now accept our goodwill and be indebted to us forever, as we are indebted to you, when Jimin had that run-in with that nasty alpha on the streets of Seoul, as I was when I went through a bad business deal.”
The teasing in Namjoon’s voice, the kind and gentle scolding from Jimin brought a smile to Taehyung’s lips, relenting, knowing his friends were true to their words, “Very well. I will stop. Only know that I am grateful to the ends of this earth for you two.”
“We know, Taehyung. And matters of the estate, the orchards, your inheritance, renovating and restoring Willow Hall… that may take a while but it is doable,” Namjoon said, his face turning serious.
“But matters of the heart are a different thing entirely,” Jimin murmured, though his eyes were unwavering as they looked into Taehyung’s, “What will you do?”
Trust Jimin to be so direct with a matter that was so sensitive, that was painful to address, one that Taehyung wished he could run away from and shut his ears and eyes and keep buried in his past.
But he knew eventually, he needed to deal with it, in the same way he needed to deal with Willow Hall and everything that came with it.
Seokjin.
“He has every right to Willow Hall,” Taehyung said, trying to remain objective, even if his heart pounded faster, keeping himself calm and composed, looking down at the cup of tea instead of his friends’ sympathetic faces, “As the widow of my brother, and with an heir to boot. I will… need to discuss matters of inheritance with him. His monthly stipend will also need to be sorted out, and living arrangements. I will not stop him from residing here, nor if he chooses to move elsewhere, or even take up residence in any other estate belonging to the family. He… is young yet.”
“That is very kind and generous of you, Taehyung,” Jimin said, Taehyung hearing the fond approval in his friend’s voice, an inherently compassionate creature, “I know the two of you shared relations before and … it isn’t easy to forget and forgive. It isn’t easy to be calm in the face of bitter memories.”
“Is it necessary to discuss inheritance at this stage, Taehyung?” Namjoon asked, his voice gentle and careful, “If it is about the boy, perhaps signing off on it can be done a little later down the line?”
“I’d like to get everything out of the way,” Taehyung said, cutting him off abruptly.
So I need not deal with Seokjin any more than I have to.
“Your… nephew,” Namjoon continued to hedge, sensing Taehyung was even more on edge than before, and yet needing to have the necessary conversations, “He’s young yet but he’ll be needing a proper education. We’ll need to check if his father put anything aside for him. If not, then perhaps we’ll need to discuss a fund of sorts, put aside some money as investment to make sure he’ll have something for college or whatever he chooses to pursue.”
“Whatever it is…” Jimin seemed to hesitate for once, despite his usual bluntness, the weight of the complex and muddy relations felt by all, “If your brother is certainly as cruel and mad as you made him out to be, there is no way that Seokjin ssi was not hurt by him. No? I … seeing him today… with the child… I do not believe he had a truly happy life here with your brother,” his best friend worried his lower lip, “I - his behaviour at the funeral… one thing important to discern is if - if they were abused. It’s strange to me, their relationship. I’m so sorry, Taehyung,” he added quickly, remorse in his tone.
“There’s also the matter of Hyejong,” Namjoon gently reminded, tilting his head slightly, “I believe he will be expecting word of whether you wish for him to come down and accompany you here, or if you wish for him to remain in Seoul. From the sounds of it, it seems you will be residing here over at least a month or so? I am more than happy to convey the message if that is easiest, and if it coincides in my trip back up north. As it is… relations between the two of you have been strained.”
The reminder of Taehyung’s potential bethrothed had him rubbing his temples, an additional matter to worry about, his head now truly beginning to throb. He wished he had not agreed to Hyejong’s mother’s incessant proposal, if only to stop the daily visits to this townhouse back in Seoul. Glancing over at the antique pendulum clock silently ticking away on the wall, he supposed they had been awake long enough, been through long enough for the day.
“I will deal with it as it comes,” Taehyung sighed, “But for now, let us look to what needs to be done in the moment. We should turn in for the night, for tomorrow will be a busy day, as will the days that follow.”
“Yes, it’s been an extremely long day,” both Namjoon and Jimin rose, patting Taehyung on the back as they took the candles and began to exit the study, “Rest well, Taehyung. Try not to think too much of things.”
“I will,” Taehyung murmured, the trio parting ways as they headed to their respective chambers.
Though, Taehyung was right not to hope for respite in the deep night - for the memories held in Willow Hall - the bitter and the sweet - chased him, even into his dreams.