Chapter Text
Exiting the abundant and unruly vegetation, he was finally able to step into an overgrown clearing filled with tall grasses, shrubs, and other – what would be considered – unsightly weeds, the stone pathway being completely covered, yet he could still feel the uneven stones dig into his feet as he stepped on and over them, approaching the large white rock castle looming far above its surroundings, casting an intimidating shadow that the man did not hesitate to step into. Her once pristine and polished white walls had lost their shine to the elements, and while still decently preserved for its age, vines had crawled their way up its sides and stained the ivory marble. The once ornate and intricate weaving of the wrought iron fencings elegantly wrapped around the balconies were dusted red and some even bent. There were parts of the towering structure that had succumbed to time and even crumbled or cracked, proving even the most impressive of things were not invincible – that nothing lasted forever.
Years had passed, yet the castle still did not fail to impress, imposing a strong aura around her even though it had been abandoned for as long as anyone alive or their distant ancestors could remember – her use as once the epicenter of the Lee family all but history now, not a single living person left in recent history who had a memory of the castle when it was even close to still being active or even of a single member of the Lee family themselves – the noble-blooded family having died out long ago, the bloodline ceasing and thus bringing the end of their oppressive regional rule and local influence. And with the death of the final member of the Lee family came the end of what had once been deemed an invincible empire, a goddess with her head cut off as the castle was soon abandoned after their death – her master finally gone and nobody allowed or willing to step foot into her cursed walls, so many smiles, laughs, moans, wails, blood, tears, happiness, and pain contained within her seemingly once impenetrable walls – both from the outside and inside.
The heavy wood door wouldn’t budge at first – its hinges having been rendered immobile from the centuries of rust it had accumulated – what was once surely a stunning work of art carved intricately and carefully into its brilliant wooden surface had degraded over the years, the elements having finally broken through the protective finish that had covered the wood to weather the magnificent and majestic stag carved right into the wood, so realistic it looked as if it was jumping right out of the door, that had once adorned its center to indistinguishable, and the forest surrounding its chiseled king stag that had once depicted luscious trees, winding vines, and rabbits, mice, birds, and foxes running through it was gone just like years that had passed since the door even held a candle to what it once was. Bordering the door to complete the main entrance to the castle was a stone archway. Faded but still barely legible in the stone arch bracketing the door, he was able to make out the words carved deep into the rock and framing the door – proclaiming the Lee family motto.
With the Passion of a Stag
Willing to Fight for What is Theirs
The Lee Family
No matter the effort or strength he applied, the door remained shut solid – as if wanting to protect others from the heinous and vile history that had unfolded within her walls, or to others, safeguarding a priceless treasure, and he supposed that in some ways, it was both because inside it held something that he was desperate to obtain but had been repeatedly stowed away because of the once ever-constant conflict that took place within her walls.
So, realizing that he would not be able to force the door open alone, he stepped away and walked a bit into the overgrown forest surrounding the castle, looking for anything he could fashion into an instrument to pry open the door from where it had stayed immobile for hundreds of years. At first, he did not see anything he deemed suitable enough to open the door, but after stepping deeper into the woods, he felt a sense of familiarity wash over him. His feet immediately turned and lead him toward a massive oak tree with roots so thick and extensive they stretched so far into the forest he couldn’t even see the end of them. There, he traversed the hazardous root maze of the forest floor to the base of the tree to discover a small hollow hidden beneath rocks scattered around and about. Cautiously, he pulled up the sleeve of his jacket and fearlessly reached his hand into the blackness, feeling around for who knows what, but when he pulled his hand back out, it was holding something no one would have expected – an ancient sword. Despite knowing when it was last wielded, it was still a beautiful piece of steel smithery and weaponry, it clearly having been commissioned by an extremely wealthy family and meant for an equally as wealthy socialite. The silver that made up its handle had tarnished, and the gold decorating it as embellishments no longer shone, scratches deep in the precious but very soft, metal. Its blade was no longer razor sharp enough to cleanly slice one’s limb off if its wielder deemed reasonable, but feeling its edge, the man could still detect traces of the countless sharpenings the blade that gone through in its life.
Lifting the sword, despite its heavy weight, the man easily handled the expensive weapon, the handle fitting perfectly into his hand. When examining it further, he noticed details that had not stood out in the dark it had been hiding in since its owner had stowed it away. The gold and silver wrapped around the handle, working together to create a beautiful intertwining vine-like design. Traveling along the entire gold and white vine was hundreds of small, perfectly white diamonds, shallowly set into the handle to not cause discomfort or scratching to the noble hands wielding it and still sparkling brighter than the sun when it caught the light despite the dirty and dust covering it – the hollow protected it from the worst of mother nature over the years. In the larger, emptier space of the handle, a bright golden yellow deer – a stag specifically – adorned the silver background, not a detail spared despite its small canvas such that one could even count the 7 points on each of its antlers. And at its base sat the largest ruby museums could only dream of having in their collection one day – its blood red so vivid and clear, making his reflection move in each of its many facets, such a striking contrast to the metals encasing it. One would most likely miss it at first glance, but with further inspection, he saw neatly engraved into the blade at its base of the blade where it met the handle, “LHS.” And upon spotting that, most would stop, correctly assuming “LHS” to be the initials of the owner of the lethal piece of artwork and stop.
But the man knew better.
Looking closer, he turned the sword over to the opposite side, and this time, instead of examining the blade in the same spot “LHS” had been engraved on the other side, he tipped the sword up toward the sky, bringing its sharp point closer to his face without a single fear, and there, right along the tip of the blade engraved much smaller and in a less elegant or elaborate font, “PSH” was crudely engraved. Not even remembering – nor caring even if he did – the sharp edges, the man gently traced his thumb along the amateurly engraved “PSH,” feeling the edge slightly nick his skin but shallow enough to not draw blood.
He didn’t know how long he stood there as if in a trance, just repeatedly tracing those three letters and not taking his gaze off of them for one moment, but with the loud caw of a raven from a nearby branch, his hypnotic state was broken, jerking as if he had been electrocuted. Shaking his head, he carried the sword through the woods back to the abandoned castle, her shadow having shorted as the sun had risen higher in the sky during – what he had thought short – time in the forest, the early rays of the morning slowing giving way to the more intense light of the later hours.
Wielding the sword as if it was second nature to him – an extension of his own arm rather than some foreign object – he plunged the sword into the practically sealed with dirt and mud that had become like concrete over the years gap in the middle of the grand entrance that separated it into two doors in one fluid movement – spot on, not a single margin of error needed nor given – the motion reminiscent of that of high trained swordsmen from long ago. Feeling the sword hit its mark, the man grabbed onto one of the two massive handles of the doors while bracing his foot against the other door. Using the basic physics principal of leverage, he pushed on the sword the opposite direction of the door he was pulling with all his strength, using his foot to gain as much extra stability as he could.
Upon first try, the door remained shut, disappointing him, but without any other option, he tried once again, putting even more force behind his second try than the first. Sadly, the door did not open, but a loud groan was heard from it, and the man slightly stumbled backwards from where the door had jolted and thrown him off balance, but seeing how the seal had been penetrated slightly from where the sword had sunk deeper between them, the slight gap in the door was enough for him to shake off any irritation he might’ve felt from almost stumbling to the ground. Reinvigorated, he scrambled forward, eagerly grabbing onto the sword and positioning his foot once again, giving another massive heave.
The door let out an even longer and louder groan but this time, accompanied by the slight screech of its metal hinges whose oil had long worn out, making the metal scratch against each other as the door was forced open for the first time since it was abandoned. And slowly, second by second, the man saw that small black slit become wider and wider until the sword dropped to the ground, no longer able to be supported by the tight space between the doors. Forgoing the sword, the man took both hands and grabbed onto the pried-open door, pulling on it. In ancient times, the doors were rarely opened by a single person, usually involving more than one servant, but still, a person of decent fitness could open the door by themselves, but that was back then when the door had been in constant use, easily swinging open with its lubricated hinges – its heavy weight not being an issue for someone like the strong and virile young master of the house, his knights, or his father.
Unfortunately, no matter how healthy and strong the man was, it seemed time and history tried to keep him out, making the door beyond difficult to pull open, but his will to enter was stronger than time’s determination to keep him out, and the door moved just enough until the gap was wide enough for him to slip in.
Immediately stepping past the defense that was the sturdy door, the man found himself standing in what he was sure was one of the grandest foyers of its time. Even after centuries of abandonment, the dust that coated everything in a thick layer and debris strewn about the floor couldn’t take away from the absolute beauty of the foyer. It was hard to see, but even with the murky light barely able to stream through the ivy covered and caked in grime from years of rain and dirt windows, the floor to ceiling windows still let in enough light for the man to make out the room that had been the first thing to greet visitors to the Lee Castle.
Covered in dirt with evidence of rats having been there recently, the dull checkered white and black marble flooring peeked up from behind the leaves the man was stepping on.
Odd. How did leaves get in here if the door was sealed shut?
Looking up, he saw near the tops of not just one but many of the floor to ceiling windows were large hole with jagged points angrily pointing towards its center – like somebody had thrown something through them and shattered them – evidence of the ill intentions that had caused the break in the first place. Following what would’ve been the path of the hostile projective, he saw the corresponding sharp, almost menacing, shards of glass from the breaks in front of the windows, and in the center of most of them, a large rock with deep gashes engorged into them. Just seeing the rock, the man felt a chill go down his spine.
But looking away from it, he walked forward further into the grand entrance. Following with his eyes, he traced the grand imperial staircase, both its flights perfectly symmetrical and gently curving upward to the second floor and meeting in the middle at an even grander, more delicate gold gilded door that stood out beautifully on its white background. When the man thought about it, the two staircases looked like a heart, starting close together at the bottom and slowing growing apart only to come together again in the end, as if they couldn’t stay away from each other. Without noticing it, the man’s lips had curled up in a smile.
How appropriate, he thought.
With his eyes drawn to the grand staircase, he wasn’t watching where he stepped and was startled when he heard a crunch under his shoe, pausing and slowly pulling his foot off whatever unfortunate object he had stepped on. Seeing what looked like a perfectly shaped piece of crystal glass, so perfect it was like an actual quartz crystal, not like all the irregular shards of glass scattered about. After seeing it, he noticed the many more perfect, identical crystal pieces also scattered across the floor. Following the trail they seemed to be making, they lead his eyes to their source, which he discovered to be was once a glorious crystal chandelier now pitifully laying on her side on the far end of the foyer, a shell of what she once was. Many of her crystals had fallen of, lying pathetically all across the floor, both far and from their origin, even if that made no sense.
For how did they get so far away from the chandelier? In fact, how did the chandelier end up in shoved into that far corner of the large room when she should’ve been in the center of the room had she simply fallen.
But pushing these questions from his mind, he left the broken chandelier and approached the right staircase. Placing his hand on the bannister that had large chunks of its matching white marble missing from it, he lightly pushed on it, testing it. When it held sturdy, he made sure to have a firm hand on it as he ascended the first step, careful to avoid debris and other trash littering the stairs. In his head, he counted each and every step, each one accompanied by a solid thump, the stairs made of solid marble, not a hollow space to allow any other sound; that is, all except for one.
On the 7th step, he paused. Releasing the banister and crouching down, he ran his fingers under the lip of the stair, looking for something. When he felt the slight shallow groove on the bottom of the marble’s lip that acted as a perfect handle, he smiled triumphantly. Using the discrete handle, the man now with a firmer grip on the lip of the stair, heaved upward to pull up the heavy lid of the 7th stair, causing a rather piercing grinding sound of heavy marble against heavy marble to reveal a hidden cavity in the otherwise solid marble staircase. As one solid piece of marble, the lid was very heavy, and he had to quickly use his other hand to keep from dropping it, trying to place it as carefully as he could on the step below.
Looking into the dark space, it was empty save for a single, small, leather book.
Delicately as if picking up a newborn, the man picked up the book, clearly as old as the castle it resided in. The pages had yellowed and frayed at the end, perhaps from water damage from the moisture in the air. The dark leather cover had spots of lighter color from various ailments such as light, liquids, and scratches, and the spine was barely keeping everything together, age and natural wear and tear from its owner repeatedly opening and closing it having broken it over time.
But being hidden away for centuries and thus protected from the elements in its unopened hideout for centuries, its fragile condition had fortunately managed to not deteriorate beyond unrecoverable. As if handling a butterfly with the thinnest of wings, he switched the book to one hand and slowly lifted the cover, holding his breath with each centimeter it rose and more of the book’s sacred contents were revealed to the world once again for the first time in forever. But finally after what felt like ages, he was able to pull back that leather cover as much to rest on his arm, the first page now in plain view for anyone to read. His eyes traced the eloquent ornate script that populated the page, tracing each stroke and flourish of what he was sure was the finest and most expensive ink money could buy back then before he began to read the words transcribed there.
26 June 1732
Today’s beginning was not spectacular by any means. I rose before daybreak to meet father early in his study. Important merchants from the far west lands, further than he or I had ever traveled – him in his 50 odd years or I in my 20 years – were arriving that day, and we – I – needed to be on the same exact page as father before their arrival – the upcoming autumn and winter’s constant supply of incense reliant on today’s meeting.
The meeting was less a meeting and more a lecture. I do not recall muttering a single word in the entirety of the conversation before the butler knocked on the door, announcing breakfast had been served and that mother was requesting my presence. Without even sparing me another glance, father dismissed my presence with a single wave of his hand, already walking back toward his impressive desk, but before I crossed the threshold out of his chokehold and into a lesser hell of an empty hall, his voice carried across the large room to remind me to remember to hold my tongue unless spoken to first that day. I gave a stiff nod back, but I am sure he did not even notice, back already turned as he walked to the adjacent parlor attached to his study while pulling a pipe from the pocket of his coat that he had grabbed from his desk – the first of what I am sure was many smokes for today.
Breakfast had been bland. Mother was polite and mildly curious, but she was still mother, loving but restrained. Beyond the customary discussion about my day’s duties and my morning meeting with father, silence was the ever-constant companion of breakfast.
But finally, light seemed to penetrate the walls of this prison for the first time when we all gathered in the foyer to greet the visiting merchants. Despite, the strong sunlight pouring into the overly cavernous room from the clear windows, the true light was never that that came from the sun, blinding me and warming the room to an uncomfortable temperature. The merchants introduced themselves one by one, and father greeted them back, gesturing to mother and me, and I must have introduced myself even if I do not recall doing so since I received no beratement at that time.
The man blinked, pulling himself out of the mind of the tattered diary’s owner long passed. Raising his head from where it had been bent to read the barely legible ornamental script – a distinct sign of the wealthy and noble at that time – faded into a light grey from its original deep black. Looking around the room at the vaulted ceilings caging him in and the windows circling the room, he could imagine what it once looked like through the young master’s eyes.
~
Rather than the smudging of pastels currently fading and covering it, he could imagine the smell of fresh paint as the massive mural gracing the arching ceilings dried after receiving its annual touchup – how the windows were once as clear as the crystals that hung from the five-tiered chandelier, at that time, still suspended in the center of the ceiling. Between the mural and the chandelier, they together had depicted a scene of prosperity and fertility – cherubs sitting in trees, animals prancing through the luscious vibrant green forest floor and waterfalls flowing throughout it all, and in the middle of the painted light blue sky, the shining chandelier mimicked and posed as the sun that brought light to the idyllic scene, and with the actual sun’s strong beams streaming through the crystal clear windows and refracting through the thousands of crystals dangling daintily on the chandelier, it truly was the picture of opulence, but now nothing more than a fading of colors and peeling paint.
But even in his mind, the man could understand where the Lee heir was coming from. The longer he gazed upon where the now grounded chandelier had once hung, the empty space slowly changed in front of his eyes to its original luminous state, and he could feel a miniscule sting in his eyes cumulate into a fierce burn the more he stared as they watered from the intensity of the brightness. What had initially been a comfortable warmth had elevated into a sweltering heat, causing a sweat to break out underneath the casual cotton shirt he wore despite in reality, the room being dim and cool.
But one blink later, the room had completely transformed. No longer was it pathetic ruins but instead restored back to its former glory and grandeur. The chandelier twinkled in the afternoon light that poured in through the clear and intact massive windows, no longer stained and covered in grime from years of neglect. The floor was polished such that he was sure he would’ve been able to see his reflection had it been metal and not marble, not a speck of the dust or rubble in its modern-day state present.
And then, he saw him, a handsome young man with dark, black hair appeared before his eyes standing below from where he was standing on the stairs in the center of the room. He was tall, and his back was straight, extending him to his full height, a clear posture that had been instilled in him through years of thousands of reprimands. His dress was a perfect representation of his wealth and status – a heavy white coat embellished with gold lapels and stitching – a high collar with a lacey jabot tied around it and pinned with a very detailed cameo in the center, clearly the carving of only the finest artisan – neatly pressed and without a single wrinkle black pants tucked into knee-high black boots polished to not show a single sign of wear – and multiple heavy silver rings adorned the fingers of his hands that were neatly clasped behind his back.
Next to him on his right was a just as impeccably dressed older man that greatly resembled the younger man, clearly his father, and to his left was a woman, shorter than both men, dressed in an elegant dress that matched the white and gold ensembles of her husband and son’s. To the average person, the young man was a picture-perfect example of a well-mannered, well-behaved young heir in the nobility. However, the man knew better.
He walked down the now restored stairs, not a trace of the crumbling banister or the litter left, closer to the nobles in the center of the room who were greeting the visiting merchants. Unnoticed he realized when not a single one turned in his direction or even gave any indication of having heard or seen anything, not even the merchants who were facing his direction while the nobles had their backs turned to him, confirming his suspicions that he was invisible to the people. And while he knew that nothing in front of him was real – that in modern day, the castle was nothing but shambles of what it once was – that the people he was seeing were long gone and had been gone for centuries – he knew that what he was seeing was not purely from his imagination. While he knew everything he was seeing was entirely in his head – that what his head was imagining for him was once real – that the magnificent mural on the ceiling he was now seeing was what it actually once looked like – that the chandelier did sparkle that way in the afternoon sun – that the people he was seeing were not just random figments of his imagination his mind made to fit what the owner of the diary narrated, that they were the real inhabitants of the Lee Castle.
That he was seeing what was really once – that he was seeing history play before his eyes.
Walking closer to the group of people who continued conversing without a single idea that they had an audience, he approached the young man, who stood still and straight as his father boastfully bragged to their visitors. He saw it on his way down the stairs and as he approached the group of people – that the young man’s hands were balled into fists behind his back, rhythmically clenching open and close. Even though his forearms were hidden behind the sleeves of his formal, white coat, the man was sure the veins were prominent from the tense stature at which the young heir was holding himself, and now standing in front of him rather than behind him, there, he saw behind the carefully guarded eyes that would’ve easily fooled anybody else the dead look in the young heir’s eyes.
The wealth of the Lee Family was overt, but behind the delicate gilded façade of grace and elegance was the mentality worse than an animal’s, where parents saw their children as nothing but trophies and treated them as nothing more than show animals, something they could whip and terrorize into obedience – the open cavern of the grand foyer had never felt more claustrophobic and oppressive, a magnificent cage for an expensive animal.
And the young Lee heir was clearly a product of his upbringing. As his father did most of the talking, his son held his tongue and acted interested in the conversation at hand. But the man knew better. He saw how almost imperceptibly, how in between particularly detailed parts of the conversation when his father would not be paying his son as much attention, the young Lee heir’s eyes would quickly flick away from the merchants and his father, only to stare for at most a second or two before returning back to his father, as if to check to make sure he had not been discovered before turning his faux-interested gaze back to the conversation, once again, feigning the perfect young noble image.
And in this case, the young Lee heir was but the most expensive of prized birds that wasn’t even given the space to flap its wings.
Breaking his study of the young Lee, he opened the diary again.
But the conversation that followed never settled with me because your gentle glow was ever the distraction.
You never drew attention to yourself, always preferring to hide in the shadows, but to me, you could never do so – your brightness always providing me a clear path straight to you. As you stood off to the side, you were as beautiful as the finest porcelain doll, but much to my dismay, you also served the same means as one, meant to be nothing more than a pretty and expensive toy, that they could bend to their every will, or decoration, when they chose, to show off my family’s damned wealth and power, and when I saw one of the merchants gesture at you while talking with father, crimson blinded me.
Looking away from the handsome young heir, the man turned to follow his now intense and hardened gaze instead, and at the end of it, he finally saw him.
And the young Lee heir was right.
He did hide in the dark, standing in the far corner of the room hidden partially by the massive doors that he had helped open, without any of the struggle as the man had just experienced, with some other servants when their guests had arrived and were still wide open – his gaze glued to the ground. But even hidden in the shadows, he was afraid that the other young man’s wishes could not be granted – that amongst the darkness, he shined like a light, drawing attention to himself when it was clear he wanted nothing more than to just fade into the background.
The darkness could not conceal the slight gleam of light, fair platinum blond hair that stood out like a sore thumb amongst a society of predominantly homogenous silky, midnight black or deep brown hair that the two were almost indistinguishable. Even his bland clothes that identified him as part of the lower class – as part of the help in the Lee castle – and their unflattering loose and square form did a poor job of covering what was clearly a lithe and elegant frame under all those layers. And even with head bowed in respect – and honestly fear – the sharp angle of his jawline and the straight slope of his high nose bridge still drew attention to his side profile despite his face being obscured, and the pale, milky skin that was so fair and thin – so easily markable – just beckoned for someone to leave their claim.
Glancing back at the meeting behind him, he saw that he and the young Lee heir were not the only ones entranced by the angel-like figure, noticing how one of the foreigners periodically spared a glance at the blonde, trying to do so as discretely as possible to not risk offending the Lee patriarch, and while the highest Lee did not notice one of his guest’s strayed attention, the younger Lee most certainly did, his bored gaze sharpening to an intense glare at the offending merchant that he didn’t even try to conceal. However, it seemed as if the shining diamond refused to meet any of the eyes being given his way.
At first, you would not look at me, determined to follow etiquette, yet even you could not resist attraction, and once, I saw a brief flash of the eyes I had stared into for years before they hurriedly returned back to the floor, but just that meager glance had been enough to quell the restlessness festering inside of me and give me the strength to continue acting the perfect son.
And then the man saw it, the flash of a face with a beauty that far surpassed any possessed by any goddess, siren, or any mystical being that could be imagined under the sky with eyes meant only for one person. Upon realizing that he had been caught, the beauty’s eyes widened before flashing back down to the ground, but not before the man saw the light pink tint of a blush rise to show beneath that creamy skin. And seeing the corners of the young Lee heir's mouth imperceptibly twitch to the form of an almost-smile before he turning his full attention back to his father and their guests, who seemed to finally be wrapping up their introductions and were starting to leave the foyer most likely for the parlor, he knew he was not the only one who saw. The Lee heir knew who the stare was directed at.
Although, in hindsight, I realize this ire was groundless for these men from foreign lands knew not who you were nor who, what, you were to me, not as anyone associated with the Lees did. And no matter how ambitious or how apathetic father may be, I am too valuable whether he can admit it aloud or not, much more valuable than those distanced merchants who would leave just as fast as they came, and because of this, I could stamp my anger. For father knew that to keep me pliant, to keep me malleable, he could never deny me my single desire in the entire world,
You.
And the man watched as the young Lee heir fell into step behind his parents and their important guests as they started to exit the foyer before sneakily slipping away from the party at the last minute as they passed through one of the ornate doors on the left. Without wasting a second, the handsome noble rapidly crossed the large room to approach the vixen who still shyly hid behind the door, even letting out a small squeak at seeing the other approaching him as the other servants moved to make way for their master, already used to this routine. The blonde’s eyes kept warily flickering to look at the door where the head of the house and his party had just left, afraid they would return any second and that they would be caught – that the young heir would be caught. But neither his shy demeanor, noise of surprise, nor clear worry for the young heir being caught deterred the young Lee as he confidently reached the other and gently took his hand in his, and before the fairer of the two could even start to protest, raised it to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on back of the slender hand all while never breaking his gaze with the other, still holding it right beneath his lips after that kiss such that the other could most certainly still feel his breath flow over his skin.
The blush adorning those rather pillowy cheeks further deepened – turning from a light pink to a darker red in less than a second. While the younger tried averting his eyes and turning his head to try to hide his face in his shoulder, the older just let a gentle smile finally fill his entire face, eyes going ever soft watching the other still so surprised at his shamelessness despite the years he had been the recipient of such blatant affection.
Even when he tried to pull his hand from the other’s grasp as the Lee patriarch’s voice was faintly heard calling for his son from some hallway outside of the foyer after finally realizing he had escaped, the young heir just pressed another kiss to it before slowly lowering it to pull at the servant’s other hand to grasp both between both of his own hands before whispering just barely loud enough to be heard,
“Good morning, my love.”
And after hearing another summon for his presence, he finally let go of the younger’s hand to turn back to begin his trek to the parlor. As the form of the young heir grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared into the hallway, the man turned his attention back to the servant, who, with his hands still raised in front of him, was still frozen in the same position. However, he finally seemed to come back to reality from whatever trance he had been in after finally losing sight of the other, and the man watched as the beauty brought his hands closer to his chest before gradually opening them to reveal a single slip of paper resting in between them. Delicately as if it was the most fragile of orchids, he opened the note.
And while the man could not see its contents from where he stood in front of the blonde, he already knew what it said.
You are beyond perfect to truly exist on this flawed earth, so if you are but a figment of my imagination, I would gladly give up every worldly possession and this reality to spend forever with you.
And some might have seen the words as an exaggeration – a dramatization of the young heir’s feelings – but the man knew better, for he could recall the next words in the aged diary.
A hunger I could never truly sate no matter the feast laid before me.
A thirst I could never quench no matter the water that cascaded onto me.
~
But the scene of the most pure, unadulterated love faded before his eyes, his vision quickly blurred to only gradually come back into focus, but this time – instead of posh accents and lively bodies rushing about the regal foyer in preparation for their guests – to dull grey and the ruined remains of what was once the grand entrance of the heart of the great Lee family.
As he regained his bearings from the sheer opulence exuded from the height of the Lee family back to the bleak, rubble – the only remnants of that opulence – of present day, the man steered himself back to the staircase to take a seat on the staircase. He gazed upon the dusty, dim, empty foyer, feeling small all alone in the cavernous room. But as he stared about the room, the memories kept replaying in his mind, like a lens that tinted his vision to allow him see past the present and to glimpse into the past as spectral figures scurried about his vision, just as he was sure they had actually done once upon a time.
But he was not scared of the ghostly figures that danced about his vision, for he knew how the story ended.
But long before then, he knew how it started.
For you were always my greatest desire and weakness, Park Sunghoon.
And without you, I would not exist.
~Lee Heeseung
That Lee Heeseung loved Park Sunghoon.